A Commentary on Lysias, Speeches 1-11

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A COMMENTARY ON LYSIAS, SPEECHES 1–11

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A Commentary on Lysias, Speeches 1–11 S. C. TODD

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford ox2 6dp Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With ofﬁces in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © S. C. Todd 2007 The moral rights of the author have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 2007 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Data available Typeset by ReﬁneCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by Biddles Ltd., King’s Lynn, Norfolk ISBN 978–0–19–814909–5 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Contents Preface General Introduction

vii 1

Lysias 1: Concerning the Killing of Eratosthenes: Defence Speech Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

43 62 88

Lysias 2: Funeral Speech for those who Assisted the Corinthians Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

149 166 210

Lysias 3: Against Simon: Defence Speech Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

275 288 308

Lysias 4: Concerning a Premeditated Wounding: Prosecutor and Client Unknown Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

347 354 364

Lysias 5: On Behalf of Kallias: Defence Speech on a Charge of Hierosulia Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

385 390 394

Lysias 6: Prosecution against Andokides for Impiety Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

399 412 440

Lysias 7: Areiopagos Speech: Defence concerning the Se¯kos Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

477 490 512

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Lysias 8: Accusation of Defamatory Speech against the Sunousiastai Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

541 554 566

Lysias 9: On behalf of the Soldier Introduction Text and Translation Commentary

581 594 604

Lysias 10 & 11: Prosecution against Theomnestos, 1 and 2 Introduction

625

Lysias 10: Prosecution against Theomnestos, First Speech Text and Translation Commentary

642 660

Lysias 11: Prosecution against Theomnestos, Second Speech Text and Translation Commentary

696 702

Abbreviations Bibliography Index Locorum Index of Greek Terms Index of Names General Index

705 707 731 757 765 771

Preface I have used the following conventions when referring to Lysias: references to the speech currently under discussion take the form ‘§9’ (or ‘§9n’, where the reference is to the Commentary on a particular passage; or ‘§9n θλαζεν’, where it has seemed useful to identify one particular lemmatic note from other substantial notes on the same section of text); reference to speeches in the Lysianic corpus other than the one currently under discussion take the form ‘1.9’ (without ‘Lys.’ unless in context this has seemed necessary to distinguish it from the work of other authors).1 All references to the fragments of Lysias are to Carey’s OCT, unless otherwise indicated. Speeches of all the Athenian Orators are numbered according to standard conventions, except in the case of Hypereides, for whom (in default of a universally accepted numbering system) I have used abbreviated speech-titles. All dates are bc, except where this is either stated or obvious: Athenian calendar-years, which ran from summer to summer, are indicated by the form 403/2, etc. (or occasionally 403/2, to specify in this case the ﬁrst half of this period); where the hyphenated form 403-2 is used, this is to denote a period of (in this case) up to 24 months. Greek script has (for obvious reasons) been used throughout this volume for the text itself, for the lemmata, and (usually in footnotes) for any passages being quoted that are either longer than a few words or where this would help clarify the presentation of textual or linguistic matters. But for reasons noted at pp. 40–41 below, italicised forms in the western alphabet have been preferred not only for Greek terms that are in common use either generally in academic texts (e.g. polis) or in academic texts covering this sort of subject matter (e.g. legal procedures like graphe¯ paranomo¯n, etc.), but also for individual Greek words or short phrases which form part of the Lysianic text under discussion. In such italicised transliterations, macrons are used for those two vowels where Greek distinguishes between long and short forms with a separate letter (omega and eta), but they have on occasions also been used for the sake of clarity in cases where the orthographic style of the text being quoted does not so distinguish (e.g. moikio¯n in the Gortyn Code). The rendering of Greek terms into English is a contentious subject, and no solution is likely to satisfy everybody.2 The general principle that I have followed is to transliterate rather than latinising, but I have allowed exceptions in the case 1 For reasons noted at p. 40 below, I have not used square brackets to distinguish those speeches which I believe to be mis-attributed, though the author of the Lives of the Ten Orators is cited throughout as Ps.-Plutarch, and I have followed my own prejudices in nowhere identifying Aristotle as the author of the Ath.Pol. 2 Even those who prefer to latinise rarely do so with absolute consistency.

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of some names which are so well known that strict adherence to a principle would risk either causing confusion or sounding silly (e.g. Plato and Thucydides), to the extent that there is occasional inconsistency between names which appear together (thus Thermopylae, because so well known, alongside Artemision). Where there is a standard and non-confusing English equivalent for an Athenian public ofﬁce or other constitutional body, this is the form that I have generally used (hence ‘Assembly’ rather than ‘Ekkle¯sia’, and ‘General’ rather than ‘Strate¯gos’),3 but where there is no agreed term I have used a version of the Greek word, to avoid readers having constantly to refer to a concordance. For ease of recognition, the titles of public ofﬁces are capitalised but treated as naturalised English words (i.e. not italicised, though I have in some cases retained macrons, especially with lesser-known ofﬁces where this seemed likely to assist with pronunciation or interpretation: as in the case of the Po¯le¯tai, to emphasise inter alia that their etymology does not derive from polis).4 Abbreviations for ancient authors follow standard conventions, except that I have used ‘Aristot.’ for Aristotle, rather than ‘Ar.’ or ‘Arist.’, to avoid confusion with Aristophanes (‘Aristoph.’); the rare appearance of Aelius Aristeides is unabbreviated. ‘Aiskhin.’ is used for Aiskhines, and ‘Aeschyl.’ for Aeschylus. Titles of plays are translated and where appropriate abbreviated if there is a simple and conventional form (thus, in Aristophanes’ case, ‘Wealth’ rather than ‘Ploutos’), but otherwise referred to by abbreviated versions of the Greek title (‘Aristoph., Thesmo.’; ‘Soph., OT ’; and ‘Eurip., Hkld.’ rather than ‘Children of Herakles’); the same goes for e.g. Platonic dialogues, where in general I have used Latinate forms for the names because these have become conventional. Any scholar producing a work of this type and on this scale incurs many debts, and my apologies are due at the outset to anybody who may accidentally have been omitted from what follows. For periods of research leave, I would like to thank particularly the Universities of Keele and of Manchester, and my departmental colleagues in each of those institutions; the Directors and Senior Fellows of the Hellenic Center in Washington DC; the President and Fellows of Clare Hall, Cambridge; and the Arts & Humanities Research Council. Also deserving of thanks are the many University librarians both in Europe and in the USA who have allowed me facilities as a visiting scholar, and the inter-library loan staff both at Keele and now at Manchester. 3 The exception being the Boule¯, where I have preferred not to use the standard term ‘Council’ on the grounds that ‘Councillor’ has for the English ear connotations of local government which are avoided by the use of Bouleute¯s. 4 There are a few cases where a Greek word carries a signiﬁcantly different meaning from its English derivative, and where (following what has become an established convention) I have used the English form but with ‘k’ rather than ‘c’. This results in what is in some ways an ugly hybrid, but it does have the advantage of alerting the reader to the fact that an Athenian sykophant was not in our sense sycophantic, and that when one of Lysias’ clients spoke about ‘the Akademy’ (18.10), this had neither the scholarly nor the bureaucratic connotations of its modern equivalent.

Preface

ix

The text that is included with this commentary is that of the new Lysias OCT, edited by Chris Carey (Oxford University Press, 2007): my thanks are due both to him and to the Press for permission to reprint it, and similarly to Michael Gagarin and Texas University Press for having allowed me to base the translation of Lysias for their Oratory of Classical Greece series (Austin, TX, 2000) on the draft that I was preparing for this volume. I would like also to thank various people at Oxford University Press: in particular Hilary O’Shea, who has supported the project from the outset; and more recently Dorothy McCarthy, Kathleen Fearn, Jenny Wagstaffe, copy editor Tom Chandler, and proof-reader Maggi Shade. The research support fund of the School of Arts, Histories and Cultures at Manchester gave ﬁnancial assistance with indexing, and my thanks are due also to Wendy Moleas, Joanne McNamara, and Jamie Wood, for their help in checking index entries. Above all, there have been a host of intellectual debts to those who have read parts of the typescript or helped me with particular problems: in particular, those who acted as OUP’s readers either for the original proposal in 1987 (John Davies, Douglas MacDowell) or for the complete manuscript in 2005 (Chris Carey, Robin Osborne); others who have read all or part of the manuscript at various stages of completion and have between them made a range of suggestions which I have gratefully incorporated on too many occasions to be individually credited (Michael Gagarin, Peter Liddel, David Konstan, Enrico Medda, Robert Parker, Peter Rhodes, and of course OUP’s readers), or who have provided information or ideas or bibliographical assistance on particular points (Carla Antonaccio, Jean-Marie Bertrand, Paul Cartledge, John Crook, Kenneth Dover, Michael Edwards, Esther Eidinow, Michele Faraguna, Andrew Fear, Nick Fisher, Hamish Forbes, Lin Foxhall, Lorenzo Gagliardi, Roy Gibson, Simon Goldhill, Eric Handley, Edward Harris, Julia Hillner, Steve Hodkinson, Neil Hopkinson, Stuart Jones, Helen King, Todd Klutz, Stephen Lambert, David Langslow, Polly Low, Douglas MacDowell, Kathryn Morgan, Fred Naiden, Nikos Papazarkadas, John Porter, Lene Rubinstein, Alison Sharrock, James Thorne, Richard Todd, Ruth Westgate, David Whitehead, Thomas Wiedemann); my students (particularly those who studied Lysias with me as a special subject at Keele); and my departmental colleagues, both at Keele and at Manchester, who have now humoured my obsession for so many years, and will (I hope) continue to do so. S.C.T. University of Manchester August 2006

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General Introduction I. SETTING LYSIAS IN CONTEXT Rather more than thirty speeches or parts of speeches ascribed to Lysias have survived from antiquity.1 Most of these are prosecution or defence speeches written for the Athenian law courts (‘forensic’ speeches), though there are some others.2 There are many reasons why these speeches are unusually interesting, particularly as historical documents. First, a high proportion of them are explicitly or implicitly linked to Athenian political life, and the political life of the period which they cover—Lysias’ career as speech-writer ran from 403 to c.380 bc,3 but several of the speeches refer in some detail to things that occurred in the preceding decade—was markedly eventful. The last ten years of the twenty-sevenyear Peloponnesian War (431–404) saw not only Athens’ catastrophic military defeat by Sparta and the ﬁnal loss of the ﬁfth-century Athenian empire, but also two traumatic though short-lived periods of political revolution, during each of which the democracy was itself temporarily overthrown: the resulting oligarchic régimes of the Four Hundred and of the Thirty held power respectively for four months in the summer of 411 and for eight months over the winter of 404/3. In each case, however, democracy was restored, on the second occasion in 403/2 under the terms of an Amnesty and following several months of civil war. For an understanding of the politics of this period, the speeches of Lysias provide some of our most important evidence, not simply because of what they can tell

1 Thirty-one in mediaeval manuscripts of Lysias, plus several others that are conventionally included in modern editions, but what survives is only a small part of a much larger ancient corpus: see the discussion of the textual tradition at pp. 17–25 below. 2 The only clear exceptions are Lys. 2, Lys. 8, Lys. 11, Lys. 33–34 (both of which were selected by Dion.Hal. to illustrate non-forensic genres) and Lys. 35 (Plato’s Ero¯tikos, on which see p. 17 n. 66 below). The status of several other speeches has in the past been contested (e.g. Lys. 6 and Lys. 9, both of which are generally now accepted as genuine law court speeches though not written by Lysias). 3 Two of the lost forensic speeches (Lys. frag. spp. XX and LXXVI, for which see Dion.Hal., On Lysias, §12, discussed at p. 27 below) and one of the surviving ones (Lys. 20, either 410 or possibly 409 bc) can be ﬁrmly dated outside this period, but there are stylistic as well as chronological reasons in each case for believing that these are not by Lysias himself. (Lys. 8 is in my view Hellenistic or later, but is not a forensic speech: see previous footnote.)

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us about political events or democratic institutions (important though these are),4 but also because they show us post-imperial Athens coming to terms with its recent history of defeat and of oligarchy, in ways that are often rather more nuanced than the relatively sparse narrative sources for the period would have us assume.5 But these are far more than simply ‘political’ speeches, even if that term is broadly deﬁned to include not just the repeated and often tendentious reinterpretations of the Amnesty of 403/2 that are presented in show-trials like Lys. 13,6 but the reinvention of historical memory that we see in Lys. 2. Their range of coverage is much wider than this, for reasons deriving in part from the nature of Athenian law-court oratory. One of the distinctive features of the Athenian legal system was the extent to which individual litigants were expected to speak for themselves, both as prosecutors and as defendants. In this context, it is worth noting that Classical Athens (like Republican Rome in the age of Cicero) regarded prosecution as something that should normally be undertaken not by public ofﬁcials but by private individuals: this was expected even for what we would regard as offences committed against the community, or indeed for high crimes and misdemeanours by leading political ﬁgures. Athens differed from Rome, however, in that the latter had a much stronger tradition of legal advocacy.7 Cicero’s speeches, for instance, are written to be delivered by the orator himself, and frequently speak of his reasons for supporting a litigant in ways that

4 In a series of works from 1974 to the mid-1990s, M. H. Hansen has demonstrated that 4th-cent. democracy differed in important ways from its 5th-cent. predecessor: for a survey of his conclusions, see Hansen (1991). Although the focus of Hansen’s own work has been on the workings of the democracy in the age of Demosthenes (350s–323 bc), many of the key institutional changes were ﬁrst introduced in or immediately after 403. A striking impression of the broader context of cultural change during the period of Lysias’ career can be gained from the forthcoming work of R. G. Osborne’s AHRC-funded research project Anatomy of Cultural Revolution, which ranges from the presumed impact of population-decline on land-prices (Akrigg) to changing patterns in the erection of politically-signiﬁcant statues (J. Shear). 5 The prevalence of speeches for dokimasia (judicial scrutiny of qualiﬁcation for public ofﬁce: Lys. 16, Lys. 26, Lys. 31, Lys. frag. sp. CXLV Anonymous Dokimasia Speech, and probably Lys. 25 and Lys. frag. sp. L Eryximakhos), along with show-trials like Lys. 13, together suggest that life was a lot less easy for those who had failed to back the democratic side in 404/3 than we might infer from the very positive statements about the Amnesty of 403 made by the narrative sources (primarily Xen. Hell. 2.4.43, and Ath.Pol. 40.2). 6 For a brief survey of some particularly tendentious reinterpretations, see p. 17 n. 65 below. 7 On advocacy, primarily but not only at Rome, see Crook (1995). It was not illegal at Athens to invite somebody else to speak on your behalf as a sune¯goros (as in e.g. Lys. 5), and the growth of a system of ‘prosecutorial teams’ has been emphasised by Rubinstein (2000), but the etymology of the Greek term sune¯goros (‘somebody who speaks alongside [the litigant]’) reveals the underlying assumption that a citizen litigant is normally expected to give at least the token opening speech (as in Lys. 20, where the defendant evidently delivered 20.1–10 and his son 20.11–36). Given the scale of Lys. 13, it is hard to imagine that the speaker’s brother-in-law as nominal prosecutor (13.1) had spoken more than a few preliminary words.

General Introduction

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openly advertise a relationship of patronage, using his own political authority for the beneﬁt of his clients.8 Lysias was himself a metic (non-citizen resident) at Athens, and as such his opportunities to appear in court will have been extremely restricted. The expectation that Athenian litigants would deliver their own speeches, however, enabled him to develop a thriving career as logographos (lit. ‘speech-writer’). The traditional and in my view correct interpretation of Athenian logography is that a litigant rich enough to commission a speech would seek out the services of a professional orator to act as ghost-writer, and would in return receive a text which he could recite or perform in court.9 (Unfortunately we have no good evidence for the level of fee, but very few speakers in the Attic Orators show any sign of being poor men, so the evidence of the speeches is at all times biased towards the upper end of the social spectrum.)10 Since the logographer’s activity did not have to be acknowledged in public—and indeed was probably best not acknowledged, for fear of arousing prejudice against professionalism—there was nothing to prevent a metic from undertaking this rôle. It is important to remember that nearly all the surviving speeches in the corpus are forensic and that all but one of these are themselves logographic,11 since forensic logography has implications both for the nature of the corpus and for the way we read it. As far as interpretation is concerned, for instance, the distinction between litigant and logographer means that questions of persona, voice and characterisation operate very differently in Lysias from the way they do in the speeches of Cicero, or even from those speeches delivered in their own person by Attic Orators like Aiskhines, Andokides, or (in his major public cases) Demosthenes.12 As for content, one of the effects of forensic logography was to give its practitioners at least the opportunity of writing for any type of legal case. This is not so obvious to the modern reader of Antiphon, Isaios and Deinarkhos, where what survives is only a portion of their output, focusing for each orator on a particular group of trials or legal procedures. But the corpus of Lysias, even 8 The extent and signiﬁcance of this phenomenon in Cicero’s speeches is discussed from various perspectives in J. F. G. Powell & J. J. Paterson (2004): see e.g. the editors’ introduction (at p. 8 and esp. p. 13, where they note that the Latin for ‘advocate’ is patronus), and the essays by Paterson himself (at pp. 80–83) and by Burnand (esp. at p. 278). 9 Dover’s (1968) argument that the logographer should be seen less as a writer of speeches and more as a ‘consultant’, operating in varying degrees of collaboration with the litigant, is discussed at pp. 28–29 below. 10 Nicole, the ﬁrst editor of Ant. On the Revolution, read frag. 1a col. ii line 20 (Blass & Thalheim) as reporting a claim by Antiphon’s opponents that he had ‘proﬁted on a 20% basis’ (κα τ ε´ κ ρδαινον) from logographic speech-writing, but subsequent editors have generally preferred to read simply ‘that I proﬁted’ (κα κ ρδαινον). The signiﬁcance of a possible exception to the rule that clients are not poor men is discussed at pp. 58–60 below. 11 The exception is Lys. 12, written as for delivery by Lysias himself. For non-logographic and/or autobiographical speeches (not necessarily the same thing) among the fragments, see p. 6 with n. 17 below. 12 For characterisation and narrative in the speeches, see e.g. pp. 49–50 (with the introductory note at 1.6–28), pp. 284–286, and p. 636 below.

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more than the private speeches of Demosthenes, covers a vast range of litigation, making this among our richest evidence for the social and economic as well as the political history of Athens. It is however very tendentious evidence, and this is not simply because it is in the nature of those involved in legal disputes to suppress information and to encourage misleading inferences. Because the speeches have been preserved for us primarily as literature and often within an educational context by ancient scholars interested in models of prose style, our texts do not normally contain any of the evidence (including legal statutes and witness testimonies) which will have been read out during the trial, and which are instead indicated simply by a lemma such as ‘law’ or ‘testimony’ (cf. 1.28n). Nor do we normally know the opponent’s side of the case, except insofar as this is mediated and presumably distorted by the speaker. And except on a very few occasions for which external information happens to have survived, we do not know the decision of the court.13 It is therefore dangerous simply to take at face value as historical evidence any assertion made by an orator like Lysias, and I have argued elsewhere that the growing realisation of this danger was one among several factors which led to a decline in the systematic study of this author in the ﬁrst half of the twentieth century (Todd 1990b), though there has been something of a resurgence in recent decades, partly because Lysias’ reputation for linguistic simplicity (which itself may perhaps encourage a certain naïveté of reading) has made him a suitable text for ex-beginners language teaching.14 Throughout this time, however, the speeches have continued to be widely cited as historical evidence, sometimes without regard to their context. One of the main aims of the present commentary, therefore, is to explore questions of forensic strategy (hence the relatively long introductory essay that accompanies each speech), so as to enable particular passages to be read in context and against the grain. I do not believe that we can ever expect to know ‘the truth’ behind any of these cases, but we can reasonably ask what shared assumptions might have made it sensible to argue the case in this particular way. As evidence for ideologies 13 Of the surviving speeches, the result is known or can plausibly be inferred in only three cases: one which won, viz. Lys. 28 (because Lys. 29 deals with a follow-up case); and two which lost, viz. Lys. 6 (because of the defendant’s subsequent career) and Lys. 26 (because the opponent’s name appears on the Arkhon-list). Earlier scholars’ assumptions about the result of Lys. 12 would seem to have little validity (see p. 639 below). Of the lost speeches, the survival of the inscription recording Theozotides’ decree probably implies defeat in the case Against Theozotides (frag. sp. LXIV); assuming that the speech Against Arkhinos (frag. sp. XXII) relates to the latter’s attempt to annul Thrasyboulos’ citizenship decree (see p. 10 n.18 below), this too will have been a defeat; so also the Prosecution of Aiskhines Concerning the Conﬁscation of the Property of Aristophanes (frag. sp. II), if as suggested by Blass (1887 [1868]: 532 with n. 3) this was an attempt to prevent by graphe¯ paranomo¯n the conﬁscation of the estate which is the subject of Lys. 19; frag. 308 recto line 1 may constitute a claim that a particular case was victorious, but the speech in question cannot be identiﬁed. For the claim of Ps.-Plut. (Life of Lysias, 836a9–10) that Lysias lost only two of his cases, and the possibly successful outcome of another fragmentary case, see p. 31 with n. 116 below. 14 The impact of teaching on the design of the present commentary (particularly in the presentation of Greek) is discussed at pp. 40–41 below.

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and semantic codes, the question of why particular statements are made to a particular audience in a particular context is in many ways more signiﬁcant than whether these statements are true.

II. LIFE, CAREER, AND CHRONOLOGY The fact that the majority of Lysias’ speeches are (as we have seen) logographic has implications for our knowledge of his career, because it means that very few of them deal with cases in which he was himself a litigant. The only ﬁrst-person autobiographical speech to survive intact is Lys. 12, written to be delivered by Lysias himself against Eratosthenes (the former member of the Thirty who had arrested Lysias’ brother Polemarkhos in 404/3, resulting in the latter’s death). The narrative of this speech deals for the most part with Lysias’ own dramatic escape from arrest, but it does also provide some details about the family’s wealth and activities before 404. In addition, we possess substantial papyrus fragments published in 1919 of the speech Against Hippotherses (frag. sp. LXX), in which Lysias is the focus of the narrative (though not the speaker, since he is repeatedly referred to in the third person). This speech seems to have dealt in some way with his attempt under the restored democracy to recover property that had been conﬁscated by the Thirty following Polemarkhos’ execution, but it includes also some further information about Lysias’ own activities in 404/3, in particular his benefactions towards the democratic counter-revolutionaries. There is in addition some fourth-century evidence external to the speeches themselves, since the family was—for metics—fairly prominent in Athenian life. Two of Plato’s dialogues are relevant here:15 the Republic is set in the house of Lysias’ father Kephalos, and although Lysias is not himself mentioned, his brother Polemarkhos is one of the participants in the debate; the Phaedrus, by contrast, deals explicitly with Lysias’ own reputation as an orator, and incorporates a version of an Ero¯tikos or Lover’s Speech said to be by him.16 In addition, a speech preserved among those of Demosthenes but probably written by Apollodoros in the late 340s includes a passing anecdote about Lysias’ relationship with the courtesan Metaneira, which offers some further details about his family (Dem. 59.21–22).

15 The dating of Plato’s dialogues is highly problematic, but both of these are generally attributed by scholars to his middle period (possibly transitional to late in the case of the Phaedrus), which would place them in the 370s or possibly 360s. (Few scholars would now credit the tradition reported by Diog.Laert. 3.38 that the Phaedrus was the earliest of Plato’s works.) For the difﬁculty of determining dramatic dates—if any—for at least some of the dialogues, see pp. 10–11 below; for the impact of the composition date on our reading of Plato’s literary assessment of Lysias and of Isokrates at the end of the Phaedrus, see p. 32 n. 121 below. 16 In my view probably a pastiche by Plato himself, but included in many modern editions as Lys. 35: see p. 17 n. 66 below.

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It was on the basis of these sorts of evidence that ancient scholars sought to construct a life of Lysias, though it is important to remember that they may have had access to other autobiographical speeches that are lost to us:17 in addition to the missing portions of the Hippotherses, we hear also of a speech Against Arkhinos (frag. sp. XXII), said to have been written against the latter’s attempt to annul a grant of citizenship to Lysias himself,18 and of a speech On his Personal Benefactions (Περ τν δων εεργεσιν [frag. sp. LII], cited three times by Harpokration), though it is possible that these are alternative titles for the same speech.19 Four ancient biographies of Lysias survive.20 The earliest and almost certainly the most reliable of these is by Dionysios of Halikarnassos, one of the two leading critics of Attic Oratory active in the ﬁrst century bc.21 His essay On Lysias is primarily a literary assessment, and includes extended quotations from several speeches that are otherwise lost (see p. 18 below); one of these is introduced in terms which may imply a continuing interest in Sicilian politics on Lysias’ part,22 though Dionysios himself displays no great interest in the question. Instead, his essay opens with details about Lysias’ family background and early life (§1): speciﬁcally, that his father 17 These now potentially include the Against Nikeratos (frag. sp. CX), of which the P.Oxy. 2537 hypothesis claims that it was spoken by Lysias himself: since the speech appears from the meagre traces to have been a defence speech in an antidosis involving a khore¯gia, this claim is not impossible, but we known nothing else about it. 18 Thus Ps.-Plut. Life of Lysias, 836a10–b1: it is generally assumed that the reference is to the graphe¯ paranomo¯n by which Arkhinos succeeded in annulling Thrasyboulos’ proposal to enfranchise all those who had assisted the democratic counter-revolutionaries (see n. 20 below). 19 Ps.-Plut.’s mention of a speech Against the Thirty (κατα` τν τρια´κοντα: 836b2) is usually thought to be a reference to Lys. 12, given the way Lysias generalises the charge by attacking Pheidon (12.53–61) and Theramenes (12.62–79), by speaking as if other members of the régime are on trial (12.79), and by hypothesising the prospect of ‘the Thirty’ being acquitted (12.87). 20 Particular episodes tend to be disseminated more widely, often growing in the telling: we hear in historical narratives (e.g. Ath.Pol. 40.2) of a collective grant of citizenship proposed by Thrasyboulos for all who had assisted the democratic restoration at Peiraieus, which was annulled as unconstitutional following a graphe¯ paranomo¯n brought by Arkhinos; in Ps.-Plut. (Life of Lysias, 835f8–836a3), this has already become a personal grant in favour of Lysias; in Sch. Aiskhin. 3.195 (= Lys. frag. 52c), we are offered a highly colourful and procedurally implausible account of its annulment, with Thrasyboulos allegedly proposing his own death for failure to deliver his promise to Lysias, and the jury out of shame ﬁning him only one drachma but still annulling the decree. 21 The other was Kaikilios of Kaleakte, none of whose work survives, though there exist several named testimonia reporting some of his views about Lysias, and he may also be the author of some of the anonymous judgments reported by Photios (see p. 34 below). He is mentioned by Dionysios in terms suggesting that he was a contemporary and a friend (τ φιλτα´τ Καικιλ, Letter to Pompeius, 3.20). The views of both scholars on the numbers of speeches genuinely written by Lysias are bracketed together in Ps.-Plut.’s Lives of the Ten Orators in terms which seem to envisage them as joint founders of a rhetorical school (Life of Lysias, 836a8: ο! περ ∆ιον$σιον κα Καικλιον, on which cf. p. 8 n. 28 below). 22 Dion.Hal. (On Lysias, §29), describes the Olympic Speech (= Lys. 33 in modern editions) as an attempt ‘to persuade the Greeks to cast out the tyrant Dionysios [ruler of Syracuse, 405–367: no relation to the essayist] and to liberate Sicily’. A fuller account is given by Diodoros (Diod.Sic. 14.109), who dates this episode at the Olympic Games of 388, though many scholars prefer 384, for reasons that I have discussed elsewhere (Todd 2000a: 332).

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Kephalos was a Syracusan living as a metic in Athens when Lysias was born,23 that at the age of 15 he had left with his brothers to become a citizen of the Panhellenic but Athenian-inspired colony of Thourioi in southern Italy,24 and that he had returned to Athens in 412/11 following the failure of Athens’ great expedition against Sicily (415–413) after being exiled from Thourioi for ‘Atticism’.25 At this point, Dionysios breaks off his biographical narrative, though he does later brieﬂy return to discuss the date of Lysias’ death, which he places in 379/8 or 378/7 and uses as a supplementary criterion to conﬁrm the spuriousness of two attributed speeches (§12).26 Dionysios’ interest in Lysias’ biography seems to have been primarily chronological, and although throughout §1 he is apparently conﬁdent of his conclusion that Lysias will have been born in 459 or 458, he is careful both to make clear the process of inference on which this depends (viz., that the departure to Thourioi at age 15 will have been when that city was founded in 444/ 3),27 and to emphasise the hypothetical status of the result (the return to Athens in 412/11 was at the age of 47 α%ν τι εκα´σειεν ‘as one may calculate’). As we shall see, the majority of modern scholars have preferred to reject this chronology, proposing a date of birth in the mid-440s.

23 Dover (1968: 40–41) rightly points out that although Lys. 12.4 claims that Kephalos was invited to Athens by Perikles, it does not mention his Syracusan origins (an understandable omission in the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War, given the lingering humiliation caused by the Sicilian Expedition). A more plausible context for this detail, in Dover’s view, might have been the Hippotherses, if this speech belongs to the late 390s: his argument is partly that it would have been safer to mention Syracuse at a time when Athens was seeking to establish relations with Dionysios of Syracuse, but also that it was something which Lysias might have had to explain in response to criticisms by a prosecutor. Methodologically, Dover’s point that forensic and chronological contexts may have made it desirable to mention particular details in particular speeches is an important one: as we shall see at pp. 14–16 below, however, the chronological relationship of Lys. 12 and the Hippotherses is not uncontested. 24 Dover (1968: 42) notes that ﬁfteen is a number with no conventional signiﬁcance for ancient biographers, and suggests that this might have been mentioned in a defence speech like the Hippotherses (cf. previous footnote), to rebut a claim by the prosecution that Lysias had (on Dover’s late chronology) left Athens in 430 and therefore during time of war. 25 For the suggestion that it might have suited Lysias to offer this explanation of his return, see p. 12 below. In the political context of the ﬁfth century, ‘Atticism’ is a term used by opponents against those seen as being too sympathetic to Athenian imperialism: cf. the Thebans’ speech against the Plataians in 427 (Thuc. 3.64.5), and their action against Thespiai in 424 (Thuc. 4.133.1). For the use of the term in ﬁrst-century controversies over rhetorical style, in opposition to ‘Asianism’, see pp. 32–33 below. 26 It is difﬁcult to be sure of the basis on which Dionysios calculated the date of Lysias’ death, but we can reasonably assume that none the speeches that he regarded as genuine contained obvious allusions to later events. As Dover (1968: 45–46) notes, however, we do not possess the essay in which Dionysios promised systematically to discuss the question of which of Lysias’ speeches were genuinely ascribed (Dion.Hal. On Lysias, §14: δαν δ& περ το' (τορο πραγµατεαν συνταττ*µενο, ν + τα´ τε α%λλα δηλωθσετα µοι κα τνε εσ ν ατο' λ*γοι γνσιοι, and cf. also the unfulﬁlled promise at the end of §12). 27 Dionysios’ phrasing is cryptic, but Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: p. x) is probably right to say that this is the only possible reading of the imperfect -στελλον (‘to join in the colony which the Athenians and others were sending. . .’).

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A much more detailed biography (540 words) is preserved in the Lives of the Ten Orators. Since this group of works is attributed falsely to the second-century ad essayist Plutarch, we cannot be certain that it was written during his lifetime, but this date cannot be far wrong: it is included in a catalogue of Plutarch’s essays compiled between the second and the fourth century (R. M. Smith 1995: 79), and it must be later than Dionysios (who is mentioned by name e.g. at 836a8).28 Dionysios is also the likely source for at least some of the opening chronological information, though we may note that Ps.-Plutarch tends here to report as fact what for Dionysios was inference or probability—thus for instance the date of birth is ﬁxed ﬁrmly in 459/8 (835c5–6), and the departure to Thourioi is ﬁxed ﬁrmly in the year of that city’s foundation in 444/3 (835d6)—but even here Ps.-Plutarch adds details which (whether right or wrong) cannot simply be taken from Dionysios,29 and at least acknowledges the existence of alternative accounts. Assessments of the reliability of the Lives of the Ten Orators have varied considerably,30 but Ps.-Plutarch’s biographical interest is certainly much broader than This is the claim that ο! περ ∆ιον$σιον κα Καικλιον (perhaps ‘Dionysios and Kaikilios and their supporters’, cf. p. 6 n. 21 above) regarded 233 (number restored from Photios, 488b14–16) of the 425 attributed speeches as genuine works of Lysias. Given the discussion of Ps.-Plut.’s reliability in the following footnote, it should be emphasised that although the ﬁgure of ‘no fewer than 200 forensic speeches’ mentioned in Dionysios’ extant essay (On Lysias, §17) implies a similar order of magnitude once allowance is made for non-forensic speeches (thus Winter 1973: 34), it does not support 233 as a precise number, though it is possible that Dionysios accepted this ﬁgure elsewhere (cf. last-but-one footnote). It is perhaps worth noting that Ps.-Plut. Life of Isokrates, 838d10–11, does distinguish between Dionysios’ and Kaikilios’ opinions over how many of that orator’s surviving 60 speeches were genuine. 29 In narrative order, the details absent from Dionysios but found in Ps.-Plut. 835c–e are as follows: (a) the names of Lysias’ grandfather and great-grandfather; (b) Perikles’ rôle in inviting Kephalos to Athens (evidently from Lys. 12.4, cf. p. 7 n. 23 above); (c) the alternative account ( δ τινε, ‘but some people say’, 835c5) whereby Kephalos was exiled from Syracuse by the tyrant Gelon (if this derives from a lost speech, it may suggest deliberate chronological confusion by Lysias, since even on the earliest chronology Kephalos’ arrival in Athens will have occurred c.474, four years after the succession of Gelon’s brother Hieron); (d) Lysias’ departure to Thourioi at age 15 is placed after Kephalos’ death, and its purpose is reported as being to share in the allocation of land (the latter could be an inference from the assumption that he was one of the original colonists); (e) the names of his brothers, albeit reported incorrectly even after textual emendation: Ps.-Plut. appears at 836b10–11 to have been confused by the statement in Dem. 59.21 that Lysias later married ‘his niece, the daughter of Brakhyllos’, which he evidently misread as meaning that Brakhyllos was a brother rather than a brother-in-law, whereas Plato (Rep. 328b5) makes clear that the real brothers were Polemarkhos and Euthydemos (Dover 1968: 39 notes that Ps.-Plutarch also misreads his source here in making the affair with Metaneira precede his marriage); (f) at Thourioi he is said to have received instruction in rhetoric from Tisias and Nikias (sic), though editors often restore this in Dionysios’ text on the basis of its inclusion in the Souda (cf. p. 9 n. 32 below); (g) those exiled from Thourioi in 412/11 are speciﬁed as numbering probably 300 (Xylander’s conjecture for ms ‘three’). 30 Edwards (1998) has done much to rehabilitate the Life of Antiphon, and has hinted at the possibility of a book-length study of all ten Lives. Schindel (1967: 33), reporting Drerup’s negative assessment of Ps.-Plut.’s Life of Demosthenes for including extensive gossip, observes that there is signiﬁcantly less of this in the Life of Lysias (the only possible exception being the anecdote about Metaneira at 836b8–9, though Dem. 59’s three-in-a-bed hints are omitted here, and the mention of the story’s provenance alongside Plato’s Phaedrus could be justiﬁed as evidence for Lysias’ being 28

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that of Dionysios. Rather than conﬁning himself to chronological matters prior to the return from Thourioi to Athens, he includes also a detailed account of Lysias’ escape from arrest under the Thirty’s reign of terror (835e6–f3), during which his brother Polemarkhos was killed and the family’s property conﬁscated (835e8–f3), and he reports Lysias’ ﬁnancial support for the democratic counterrevolutionaries in 403 (835f5–8), along with the annulment of what is presented as a grant of citizenship offered personally to Lysias himself (835f8–836a3):31 this account relies either directly or otherwise on a close and generally accurate reading of Lysias’ own autobiographical speeches, including for instance the detail about the house from which he had escaped arrest having two doors (835f2, cf. Lys. 12.15), to the extent that it has enabled several restorations in the fragmentary papyrus speech Against Hippotherses (e.g. the use of 835f5–8 at frag. 170 lines 163–167). There then follows mention of the number of surviving speeches and the number of these that are genuine (836a7–9), leading into discussion of the range of work attributed to him (including rhetorical textbooks, letters, etc., 836b4–7), interspersed with a one-sentence stylistic analysis (836b2–4) and brief mention of the title or content of a few of the speeches (836a10–b2, 836d2–10). Two further texts can be dealt with more brieﬂy, at least for their biographical content. The only ancient lexicon to offer an entry s.v. Lysias is the Souda (tenth century ad), which allocates fewer than a hundred words to the author. Most of this is devoted to biography, giving no details that are not found in Dionysios,32 though it does conclude with a short summary of the range of Lysias’ output: this is unlike anything found in Dionysios’ essay, and is indeed closer to Ps.-Plutarch, but contains one minor additional detail about his non-oratorical output that is not otherwise attested.33 A more substantial literary assessment is presented by the ninth-century ad patriarch Photios, whose Bibliothe¯ke¯ (‘library’) of books read includes entries on each of the Ten Orators (codices 259–268). Roughly a quarter of the material in Photios’ thousand-word entry on Lysias (codex 262, 488b18–490a10) is biographical, with the rest offering a series of discussions of Lysias’ style and illustrating it with comments on three of the speeches. There has, as we shall see, been considerable debate as to how far these literary discussions known by contemporary and near-contemporary authors). Inconsistencies of texture between and within the Lives of the Ten Orators are analysed by Pitcher (2005) as evidence for Ps.-Plut.’s use of sources which themselves reﬂect different modes of writing about the past (e.g. 2005: 222–224 on the signiﬁcance of the repetition of the arkhon-year of Lysias’ birth). 31 For the possibility that this misrepresents the annulment of a collective grant, see p. 6 n. 18 above. 32 The one possible exception being the mention of Lysias’ having studied while at Thourioi under Tisias and Nikias: the dependence of the rest of the Souda’s biographical account on Dionysios, however, has encouraged editors to regard this as a detail which has simply dropped out of our manuscripts of the latter’s text (cf. p. 8 n. 29 above at item f ). 33 Whereas Ps.-Plut.’s list of Lysias’ output at 836b4–7 simply mentions the existence of letters, the Souda speciﬁes that there were seven of these, one dealing with public affairs and the remainder love-letters, ﬁve of them addressed to meirakia (young men).

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are the ﬁrst-hand product of Photios’ own judgment, and how far they may comprise material taken from earlier scholars.34 His biographical material, on the other hand, is very closely based on that of Ps.-Plutarch, to the extent that the latter has probably been Photios’ direct source,35 and it therefore requires no further comment here. Whereas the ancient biographers, as we have seen, either accept or at least leave unchallenged Dionysios’ claim that Lysias will have been born in 459 or 458, the majority of modern scholars have rejected this in favour of a date in the mid440s.36 The case for this later date is based partly on doubts over the reliability of some of Dionysios’ inferences, and partly on possible conﬂicts between elements of the biographical tradition and the external evidence. But only the ﬁrst of these points is uncontentious: it has for instance rightly been noted that Dionysios offers no proof of his claim that Lysias went to Thourioi at its foundation in 444/3 rather than at a later date. The external evidence is more difﬁcult to handle. Dover (1968: 34–38) for example argues that Lysias’ relationship with Metaneira (recounted at Dem. 59.21–22 by implication during his mother’s lifetime) is unlikely to have taken place much before 380. However, he acknowledges that this rests in large part on a contestable interpretation of how Neaira is described at the time of her own trial in the 340s,37 and that even if accepted this would not of itself necessarily prove that Lysias had been born later than 459 or 458, since his mother might have lived to a very advanced age and he might have kept a mistress in his late seventies. Rather different issues are created by the two Platonic dialogues, which at ﬁrst sight would seem to present considerable chronological detail. Of these, the Republic is set at a time when Kephalos is still alive though elderly (328b8–9), but when Lysias (though mentioned at 328b4–6) may possibly, unlike Polemarkhos, be too young to take a full part in the discussion. Scholars have suggested a variety of dramatic dates for the Republic between 432 and 404 (Nails 2002: 325–327, with refs.), but it is worth noting that none of these dates can be reconciled with Ps.-Plutarch’s chronology: he claims not only that Lysias left for Thourioi as

34 For the literary assessments reported by Photios, see in general p. 34 below; for more detailed discussion of the one example that relates to a speech covered in this volume, see pp. 477–478 below. 35 For criticisms of the alternative view, that both drew independently on an earlier common source, see Pitcher (2005: 219 n. 14). Certainly the minor substantive differences between Ps.-Plut.’s account and that of Photios (who states that it was Lysias rather than Kephalos who moved to Athens and that he did so because of Perikles’ reputation, and claims that the purpose of going to Thourioi was to have a share in his paternal inheritance; cf. p. 8 n. 29 above at items b and d respectively) can easily be explained as errors or misunderstandings introduced by the latter. 36 Thus most notably Blass (1887 [1868]: 339–353), tentatively followed by Dover (1968: 28–46 at p. 42). 37 Dover reads Dem. 59.115 as implying that she is still a seductive woman, but notes that it could mean that she is still dangerous despite appearing old and harmless. For Dover’s tentative support for Blass’ preference for a date of birth in the mid-440s, see previous footnote.

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one of the original colonists in 444/3, but that this was after Kephalos’ death (p. 8 n. 29 above at item d ).38 The Phaedrus, by contrast, presupposes the presence in Athens of Phaedrus himself (who was exiled following the Herms and Mysteries affairs of 415 and is unlikely to have returned to Athens until 404).39 To reconcile this with the biographical tradition that Lysias returned to Athens only in 412/11,40 it is necessary to locate the dramatic date of the dialogue early in the rule of the Thirty, since Lysias’ brother Polemarkhos is evidently still alive (257b3–4: he died, as we have seen, in 404/3). But such a solution creates its own problems. On the one hand, we know of no pre-403 literary work by Lysias himself that would justify his being represented as already a distinguished literary ﬁgure (228a1–2). But there are also some positive indications suggesting an earlier date. For instance, Sophokles and Euripides, who both died a year or so before the Thirty, are talked about as if they too are still alive (268c5). More signiﬁcantly, Phaedrus himself, who seems to have been born c.450, is addressed by Sokrates as a young man (neanias, 257c7) and even as a boy (pais, 267e5). But given Phaedrus’ presumed exile, to take these descriptions at face value would mean placing the dialogue before 415, and although this might better suit the similar description of Isokrates (born in 436) as a young man (neos, 278e10) who has not yet made his name as an orator (279a3–9), it would entail rejecting a key aspect of the biographical tradition, as noted at the start of this paragraph.41 Methodologically, however, we need to be cautious here both about the evidence of Plato and about the use of lost speeches by ancient biographers. On the one hand, Plato’s readiness to admit anachronism into other dialogues is such that any attempt to base inferences on the assumption of a consistent dramatic date is fraught with danger.42 But it is important to remember also that autobiographical statements made in Lysias’ speeches are parti pris, and should be treated with caution unless they were the sort of thing that could be refuted so easily as to arouse derision. Where a speech survives, we can of course consider

38 For Nails’ discussion of the Republic, see further n. 42 below. Dover (1968: 39) suggests at one point that Lysias is presented in this dialogue as an adult—this would be irreconcilable with his leaving for Thourioi at age 15, a detail which Ps.-Plutarch shares with Dionysios—but at (1968: 29) he seems to acknowledge that the dialogue may be assuming a signiﬁcantly younger Lysias. 39 Thus Dover (1968: 32), noting that the evidence against him—unlike that against Alkibiades and Adeimantos who were recalled earlier—seems never to have been rebutted. 40 Agreed both by Dionysios (p. 7 above) and by Ps.-Plut. (p. 8 n. 29 above at item g). 41 The dramatic date of the Phaedrus is brieﬂy discussed by Nails (2002: 314), who follows Dover (below) in rejecting the date of Lysias’ return to Athens and locating the dialogue in 418–416, but brieﬂy summarises the conﬂicting positions of other scholars. 42 The Menexenos (on which see p. 152 below) may be a special case, but the Symposion (in a dialogue set in 416) contains an almost certain reference at 193a3 to events of 385, and the ﬁve-year gap in the Euthyphro between the collapse of Athenian settlements abroad in 404 and the trial in 399 is at least problematic. The problems of Republic and Timaeus/Critias are set out in detail by Nails (2002: 324–326), who acknowledges the ‘jarring anachronisms’ of the former but seeks to explain them in terms of a complex process of composition.

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the context. For instance, the claim that Kephalos was invited to Athens by Perikles and lived there thirty years (Lys. 12.4) may be entirely true, and if so might weaken the traditional early chronology, given that Perikles will have been a very young man in the mid-470s (Dover 1968: 39). But although it is unlikely that Lysias, at least in the written version of the speech, could have got away with such a claim if Kephalos had not become a friend of Perikles, that is not enough to conﬁrm the claim in the form in which Lysias presents it. Where a biographical statement is likely to have come from a lost speech, there is more room for uncertainty, but Dover’s suggestion that as well as departing for Thourioi later than its foundation in 444/3, Lysias might also have returned to Athens earlier than 412/11 (Dover 1968: 42) could be supported by suggesting that it was Lysias himself who claimed that his exile was for ‘Atticism’ (see p. 7 with n. 25 above)— though as has been indicated, I would not myself put as much emphasis as Dover does on the advantage of thereby creating a possible dramatic date for Plato’s Phaedrus before the latter’s exile in the aftermath of 415.43 Perhaps more important than the search to establish a secure chronology— which may ultimately be impossible, though on balance I would agree that there is enough doubt about the chain of inferences made by Dionysios to call into question the ancient biographers’ early dating of Lysias’ birth in 459 or 458—is the question of why this matters. The traditional ancient chronology would place Lysias’ return to Athens in 412/11 in his mid to late forties, but (with the sole exception of Lys. 20, which is universally agreed to be misattributed)44 he is not attested as the author of any forensic or other speeches before the democratic restoration in 403/2, after which the next quarter-century sees him produce as many as 233 speeches regarded by ancient critics as correctly attributed (see p. 8 n. 28 above), i.e. at a rate averaging ten speeches per year from his mid-ﬁfties onwards. This is not impossible, but it does make him in literary terms a late developer. The period of rhetorical silence after his return to Athens would be exacerbated if we were to accept Dover’s argument for an earlier return from Thourioi, and particularly for those who regard the Phaedrus as evidence for an established literary reputation at any of its possible dramatic dates rather than (as I would tend to see it) as a back-projection from the time of writing. It is in many ways the absence of speeches before 403 that is more striking here than the question of Lysias’ age during this period. At least two types of explanation are possible. One is that the family before that date not only moved in the highest social circles (witnessed by the setting of the Republic) but were also extremely wealthy. The Hippotherses indeed calls him ‘the richest of the metics’ (frag. 170 lines 153–155), and speaks of the Thirty having deprived him 43 For the problem of the dramatic dates of Plato’s dialogues, see pp. 10–11 above. An early date for Lysias’ return would increase the period of rhetorical inactivity at Athens, on which see the following paragraph. 44 There is, as Dover (1968: 44) notes, no good reason to see Lys. frag. spp. V–VI as written for cases involving the elder Alkibiades, and Carey himself (2007: 314) agrees that a case in the 390s against the younger Alkibiades is more probable.

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of property in excess of thirty talents (frag. 165 lines 28–31),45 while Lys. 12 speaks of the loss of substantial wealth in cash (12.11), as well as three houses and considerable amounts of furniture (12.18),46 and also 700 shields and 120 slaves, most of the latter apparently representing the productive work-force in what is by far the largest manufacturing enterprise known from fourth-century Athens (12.19).47 The question of whether and if so when Lysias might have recovered any of this property depends in part on our interpretation of the Hippotherses (on which see p. 5 above), but it is certainly possible that ﬁnancial need will have driven him to exploit professionally an existing amateur talent. The second explanation for the absence of speeches before 403/2 (and the two are by no means mutually exclusive) would focus not on the issue of need but on the realisation of capability. If we assume that Lys. 12 is a speech that was actually delivered at the euthunai (judicial accounting for actions in ofﬁce) which Eratosthenes as a former member of the Thirty would have had to undergo if he wanted the protection of the Amnesty so as to remain in Athens, then this would have had to take place immediately after the democratic restoration. Whatever the result of the case, a high proﬁle achieved by Lysias in the course of such a trial might have led to demand for his services as logographer. One problem in interpreting Lys. 12 is that we do not know for certain whether non-citizens had the right to bring a charge or to deliver a speech at a public ofﬁcial’s euthunai (although even if they normally did not, it is conceivable that the euthunai of the Thirty might have been treated as a special case).48 Scholars have sometimes suggested that the case could have been heard during a brief period between Thrasyboulos’ grant of citizenship to those who had assisted the democratic restoration at Peiraieus and its annulment,49 but this reconstruction 45 The number in the text is incomplete but ends ‘-ν.τα’: the ﬁrst editors read it as [/βδοµκο]ν.τα (seventy), but Carey notes that other restorations are possible. 46 For the signiﬁcance of whether these houses were owned or rented, see p. 15 n. 58 below. For various arguments suggesting that both brothers lived in houses in the Peiraieus, see Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: p. xii) and Dover (1968: 30), against Blass (1887 [1868]: 347) and Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 145). 47 The next largest known are Demosthenes’ father’s 20 couch-makers and 32–33 knife-makers (Dem. 27.9). It is worth bearing in mind that demand for shields at least until the end of the Peloponnesian War will have been substantial and consistent. 48 The rights of metics to initiate litigation (mainly private dikai) are discussed by Harrison (1968–71.i: 193–199, who does dismiss this as a special case) and by Whitehead (1977: 89–97), the latter rightly emphasising how much of the evidence is inconclusive (e.g. on the question of whether a metic involved in litigation would speak in person or be represented by his citizen prostate¯s or ‘guardian’). The claim in the subtitle of the Palatinus manuscript that the speech was spoken by Lysias himself need be no more than inference from the speech’s contents. 49 Thus e.g. Lamb (1930: 221): for the proposal and its annulment following Arkhinos’ successful graphe¯ paranomo¯n (prosecution for proposing an unconstitutional decree), see p. 6 with n. 20 above. A more substantial version of this hypothesis is offered by Murphy (1986: 78–88, esp. at p. 82), who infers from Ath.Pol. 39.6 that the euthunai of former oligarchic ofﬁcials had to be complete by the deadline for registration at Eleusis and so within twenty days of the reconciliation, thereby requiring Lys. 12 to be placed at a time before the restoration of other court-proceedings and so before Arkhinos will have been able to take action. As Rhodes (1981: 471) points out, however, the relevant clause of Ath.Pol. 39.6 (ε1θ 2 ο3τω, etc.) can hardly be referring to those former ofﬁcials who are intending to

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seems prima facie unlikely since the implementation of a proposal was normally suspended as soon as the prosecutor gave formal notice of his intention to bring a graphe¯ paranomo¯n, and it would presumably have been in Arkhinos’ interests to do this immediately. I have suggested elsewhere (Todd 2000a: 114) that ‘If Lysias was entitled to prosecute, it is difﬁcult to think of reasons why he would not have done so, and there is nothing about the speech as it stands which would make it inappropriate for delivering at a trial. On the other hand, if Lysias was prevented by his status from appearing in person, he could have circulated this as a pamphlet, and as a way of showing what he would have said—all the more so if he felt cheated at not having received the citizenship in return for his support for the democratic counter-revolutionaries in 404/3.’ To which it is tempting to add that frustrated ambitions of citizenship might have provided an additional reason for embarking on a logographic career.50 These explanations of Lysias’ career-move into logographic oratory are based on the traditional (and in my view correct) relative chronology of the autobiographical speeches, whereby Lys. 12 was either delivered or else written as if for delivery in 403/2 as one of the earliest of the speeches, with the Hippotherses presumably at some later date.51 This chronology has however been challenged in an article and a monograph by Loening (1981; 1987: 70, 89), who seeks instead to place the Hippotherses earlier than Lys. 12. His argument for this is based fundamentally on two assumptions: ﬁrst, that the only reason for the Hippotherses to be spoken in the third person was if Lysias did not possess the legal capacity himself to deliver what, from the scale of the surviving fragments, must have been the main defence speech; and second, that the contrast with the ﬁrst-person delivery of Lys. 12 implies that Lysias must have gained this right in the intervening period. (Loening suggests that this will have happened as the result of the passing of the decree which did in the end grant privileges to those non-citizens who had assisted at various stages in the democratic restoration, for which a date of 401/0 is now universally accepted.)52 Although the problem that Loening has leave Athenian jurisdiction by emigrating to Eleusis, and if this link is broken then there is no reason to place the euthunai at such an early date. 50 This view is the basis of the highly tendentious interpretation of Lysias’ political speeches offered by Ferckel (1937, e.g. at pp.158–161), but theories are not always wholly undermined by their adherents. 51 Any attempt at an absolute chronology of the Hippotherses depends on whether we read the now conclusively-established reference to the Walls which had been built (τ . ν τ.[ειχν] 5ικ.[ο]δοµηµ νων.) at frag. 170 lines 195–196 in comparison to those destroyed by the Spartans in 404 as a reference to those rebuilt by Konon (in which case the perfect participle implies that the speech must post-date the substantial building work carried out in 393), or as a reference to their original erection by Themistokles in the 470s, which would have no such implication. Medda (2003: 181–188) argues strongly for the later date, on the grounds that an allusion to Themistokles’ walls would need to be made more explicit (as it is at 12.63), and that the rhetorical structure of the sentence implies that the building is more recent than the destruction. 52 The deﬁnitive editing of the decree (= IG ii2, 10, with additional fragments) is by M. J. Osborne (1981–83: D6; repr. with trans. and discussion in Rhodes & Osborne [= R. G. Osborne] no. 4). M. J. Osborne has established three categories of beneﬁciary: (i) those who joined in the return from Phyle, (ii) those who fought in the battle at Mounykhia, and (iii) those who remained in Peiraieus with the

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identiﬁed is a genuine one, his way of resolving it creates considerable difﬁculties, both negative and positive. In the ﬁrst place, it relies on the assumption that Lysias was present with the democratic counter-revolutionaries at Peiraieus in time to be included in the third category of beneﬁciaries, and that it was on this basis that he ﬁrst became isotele¯s.53 Now, it is almost certain that he was not included in either of the ﬁrst two categories, since he surely would have made clear if he had been present in time to ﬁght either at Phyle or at Mounykhia, whereas in fact the emphasis in frag. 170 lines 163–171 of the Hippotherses and in Ps.-Plutarch is very much on his ﬁnancial benefactions; and although there are references in the Hippotherses to his having ‘returned from exile with your democracy’ and perhaps more clearly ‘when he was in the Peiraieus he envisaged that on returning from exile he would recover his property’,54 even the second of these passages is not absolutely conclusive evidence that he was there early enough to be rewarded.55 More signiﬁcantly, perhaps, Loening’s reconstruction relies also on the assumption that Lysias was not already isotele¯s before the oligarchic revolution, although his prior possession of this status is if anything the most natural reading of Ps.-Plutarch’s claim that following the failure of Thrasyboulos’ proposal for citizenship ‘he spent the rest of his life as an isotele¯s’,56 since there is no mention here of any gap before he subsequently received it: admittedly we have no supporting evidence for Lysias’ family having held this status prior to 404, but it is the sort of right that was often available for prosperous metics,57 particularly if one accepts the claim that he had been exiled from Thourioi for Atticism.58 de¯mos (presumably in the face of Pausanias’ attack). M. J. Osborne himself believes that category (i) received citizenship and categories (ii)–(iii) isoteleia (see following note), though Whitehead (1984) has suggested that all three categories received citizenship. The date is based on the fact that the Arkhon’s name ends in ‘–os’, for which the only candidate between 403 and 395 is Xenainetos (401/0): Krentz (1986) has now abandoned his previous attempt to restore this as the Arkhon’s demotic and allow a wider range of dates. 53 A privileged class of metic, who received isoteleia or ‘equality of taxation’ (sc. equal with citizens), which meant that he was exempted from payment of the metoikion (poll-tax otherwise imposed on all adult metic males and at least some females). 54 Lys. frag. 165 lines 36–38: [6ιχ]ετο κα µε.τ.[α`] τ.ο' 7µ[ετ] ρου πλθου κ.ατ8λθεν; and frag. 164 lines 10–13: [9τε µ&ν :]ν ν Πειραιε; 6ιε[το τα` α7τ]ο' κατελθ<ν α2.ν[ακοµζ]εσθαι. For the text of the latter passage, see Medda (2003: 23–25). 55 Loening (1981: 288) reads the claim at Lys. frag. 170 lines 171–173 to have received no reward from the Athenians for his benefactions (κα α2ντ τ[ο]$των οδεµαν χ[α´ρ]ι.ν οδ& δωρεα`ν παρ2 7µν κεκ*µισται) as a complaint against Arkhinos’ graphe¯ paranomo¯n and as evidence that IG ii2, 10 had not yet been enacted, but it would make equal sense as a complaint that he had not received any reward under its terms (or, cf. below, that the reward offered had been of no value because he was already isotele¯s). 56 Ps.-Plut. Life of Lysias, 836a2–3 (the Loeb translation is misleading). 57 Our evidence for isoteleia is mainly post-403, but this may be more a fact about the dating of epigraphic evidence than about the phenomenon: certainly it was a recognised status in 404/3, when the democratic counter-revolutionaries promised it as a reward to any foreigners who would join them (Xen. Hell. 2.4.25). 58 To have owned the three houses at Lys. 12.18, they would have had to have enkte¯sis (right to own land), which was a privilege that frequently accompanied isoteleia, but we cannot be certain that they

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Looking at the matter from the other direction, Loening’s argument requires us to read Lys. 12 not as a speech delivered at Eratosthenes’ euthunai (see p. 13 above)—since the latter would not have been able to remain in Athens without having completed this procedure satisfactorily in the autumn of 403/2—but as a subsequent dike¯ phonou (prosecution for homicide). This however creates difﬁculties with the terms of the Amnesty, which is generally interpreted to mean that members of the régime who had passed their euthunai were protected against any subsequent prosecution for judicial killings.59 The theory also fails to resolve conclusively the problem that it sets out to answer, since although we know that metics (and a fortiori therefore isoteleis) could initiate a dike¯ phonou—and incidentally therefore that Lysias could presumably therefore have done so without waiting for IG ii2, 10—we do not know whether in such a case they could speak in person, or would have to be represented by a prostate¯s. By contrast, it is if anything more likely that a metic (even if not isotele¯s) could have spoken in a case involving private property, like the Hippotherses. The problem of why Lys. 12 is written in the ﬁrst person and the Hippotherses in the third person is a genuine one, but there could be other explanations. As has already been noted (at p. 13 with n. 48 above), we have no ﬁrm evidence that metics could not speak at euthunai: if they could, then there is no longer the same need to reverse the traditional chronology, and this might imply that the Hippotherses reﬂects a deliberate choice not to deliver the main defence speech himself, rather than a legal inability to do so.60 The alternative possibility, as noted above, is that Lys. 12 is not the speech that Lysias delivered, but rather a version of what he would have said if his hopes of citizenship had not been dashed.61 Lysias’ experiences under the Thirty raise the question of his own political views, and how far these might be reﬂected in his choice of clients and the arguments that he gives them. It is striking that although the shadow of 404/3 were not renting them. Scholars have often tried to use frag. 165 lines 43–46 of the Hippotherses to resolve this question, but the passage can be interpreted in too many ways to be helpful here (see Todd 2000a: 370 n. 8). For Atticism, see p. 7 n. 25 above. 59 For the evidence, and Loening’s difﬁculties in accommodating it to his theory, see p. 639 with n. 55 below. The length of the Theramenes digression at 12.62–78 may be a further argument against the speech being a dike¯ phonou: such cases were heard by the Areiopagos, which (as noted at p. 282 with n. 29 below) was supposed to have stricter rules of relevance than other courts. (I am not persuaded by the heterodox views of the Amnesty put forward by Carawan 2006; cf. also Carawan 2001 and Carawan 2002.) 60 I have speculated elsewhere (Todd 1993: 198 n. 46) that the earlier case might have led Lysias to see a risk of prejudice against his appearing in person. Medda (2003: 191) adds the suggestion that he may be trying to live up to the ideal image of the metic as apragmo¯n (one who does not interfere in public life). 61 See Todd (2000a: 114), quoted at p. 14 above. Such a hypothesis might help account for the claim in the Hippotherses not to have caused distress to any citizen by casting blame on the offences of other people (frag. 170 lines 175–181: κ.ατελθ<ν δ& ο.δ να π=[π]ο.τε >θηναων λ$πη[σε]ν . . . ο?τε περ τν α2λλ[*]τ.ρων @νειδζων α2µ.αρ[τη]µα´των), which is, as Loening (1981: 288) notes, a pretty tendentious claim, and would be more so if Lys. 12 had come to court. For the suggestion that Lysias’ prosecution of Eratosthenes might have faded from public memory by the late 390s, see Medda (2003: 186).

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dominates the corpus,62 nevertheless a signiﬁcant number of the litigants are clearly among those who had remained ‘in the town’63 throughout the rule of the Thirty. On the basis of the sort of distinction drawn at 26.16–20 between moderate supporters of the oligarchy and radical oligarchs who had been implicated in the régime’s excesses, Kennedy and Lateiner both argue that Lysias was himself a conservative rather than a radical democrat, willing to write speeches not just for those who had supported the democracy in 404/3 but also for moderate oligarchs.64 But there is a risk here of circular argument, since our only reason for believing that these had been moderate supporters of the oligarchy is that Lysias represents them as having had no share in the Thirty’s crimes. A more sophisticated reading is surely that there was at no time during this period any political mileage in representing oneself as a former oligarchic extremist, whereas aggressive interpretation of the Amnesty from the opposite side was on occasions a trick worth playing.65

III. THE SURVIVAL OF THE SPEECHES Modern editions of Lysias contain either 34 or 35 speeches,66 plus fragments of what in Carey’s new Oxford Classical Text now amount to 145 others,67 making a 62 Of the twenty-eight surviving forensic speeches from the period 403–380 in the corpus (discounting therefore Lys. 2, Lys. 8, Lys. 11, Lys. 33, Lys. 34 as non-forensic and Lys. 20 because of its date), more than half make at least some reference to the events of 404/3: Lys. 6.37–41, 45; Lys. 7.9; Lys. 10.4, 27, 31; Lys. 12 passim, Lys. 13 passim; Lys. 14.32–33, cf. 38; Lys. 16 passim; Lys. 18.4–12; Lys. 21.4; Lys. 24.25; Lys. 25 passim; Lys. 26 passim, esp. 16–20; Lys. 28.12–14; Lys. 30.10–14; Lys. 31 passim. 63 Gk. astu: i.e., the area within the city walls. For the contrast with the democratic counterrevolutionaries at Phyle or Peiraieus, see 6.38n. Litigants who remained in the astu include the speakers of Lys. 7, Lys. 16, Lys. 18, Lys. 21, Lys. 25, and cf. also the title of the Eryximakhos (Lys. frag. sp. L). 64 This is the central argument of Lateiner’s 1971 thesis (summarised in Lateiner 1981). Kennedy (1963: 139) similarly claims that Lysias was prepared only to defend those with an oligarchic past rather than writing prosecution speeches for them, but this is hard to match with 30.7 (albeit referring to alleged membership of the Four Hundred rather than activity under the Thirty). Dover (1968: 149 n. 2) rightly criticises as anachronistic Kennedy’s suggestion that it would be unprofessional for an Athenian logographer to turn away a client, in the way that it is for a modern advocate. 65 Among the more striking reinterpretations of the Amnesty are 6.39 (Amnesty as agreement between two parties, so not intended to cover attacks by those not on the opposite side, cf. also 13.88–90, and perhaps 31.8, 13–14); 26.16–20 (distinction between moderate and radical oligarchs, as above, with the Amnesty being intended to protect the former, cf. the inversion of the topos at 28.12–14); and 30.9–14 (reasonable to hear allegations despite Amnesty because opponent started it). For the signiﬁcance of the Amnesty in the one of these speeches that is included in the present volume, see p. 407 with n. 32 below (Andokides’ position vis-à-vis the Amnesty) and pp. 409–410 below (chronological links with the trials of Sokrates and others). 66 The variation in number depends on the status attributed by editors to Lys. 35 Ero¯tikos (a display-speech which Plato quotes as the work of Lysias, but in my view probably a pastiche written by Plato himself). 67 Of the fragments, 127 speech-titles are reported in the edition of Baiter & Sauppe (1839–50.i),

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total of c.180. This however is only a fraction of the 425 speeches allegedly circulating under his name in antiquity. In terms of numbers of speeches, indeed, this makes Lysias by some way the most productive of the ancient orators, even if we accept Ps.-Plutarch’s report that the leading ancient critics believed only 233 of these to be genuine (cf. p. 8 n. 28 above): the number of speeches that Ps.-Plutarch attributes to others among the Ten Orators never exceeds 75.68 The distinction drawn in the previous paragraph between fragments and speeches is not qualitatively absolute, since only Lys. 1–31 survive in the mediaeval manuscripts of Lysias (in two groups, as we shall see). Of the others, the socalled Lys. 35 derives from Plato’s Phaedrus, whereas Lys. 32–34 are extended quotations from otherwise lost speeches which have been preserved in Dionysios of Halikarnassos’ essay On Lysias to illustrate the orator’s success in what Hellenistic critics regarded as the three branches of oratory: forensic (written for the law courts, Lys. 32), epideictic (written for display, Lys. 33), and demegoric or symbouleutic (written for debate in the Assembly, Lys. 34).69 In terms of scale, the longest of Dionysios’ three quotations is substantial (Lys. 32, at 1,720 words, esp. given that it lacks a peroration and part of the proofs), since even the two longest extant speeches (Lys. 12 and 13) are only just over 5,000 words: the speeches in our corpus never achieve the size of those of Isokrates, Aiskhines, or Demosthenes, and indeed 1,000–2,000 words is typical. The shortest of the three quoted by Dionysios (Lys. 33), however, is at 440 words only slightly longer than the largest of what we are accustomed to describe as fragments.70 On this basis, it would possibly be more logical either to reclassify Lys. 32–34 as fragments, or alternatively to reclassify some of the latter as speeches, but the conventional distinction is now so ﬁrmly established that it is immune from challenge. It is however worth noting that only ﬁve of the fragments preserved through with three more being added without renumbering in Thalheim’s Teubner edition (1913 [1901]). Blass (1887 [1868]: 357–375) catalogues and classiﬁes a total of 164 titles, excluding Lys. 8 but otherwise including speeches as well as fragments. Hude’s OCT (1912) did not include the fragments, while the editions by Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1926].ii) and by Albini (1955) were consciously selective. The signiﬁcant increase in the numbers in the editions of both Carey (titles of 145 lost speeches, as above) and previously Floristán Imízcoz (2000, 139 titles) is the product partly of additional citations (Lys. frag. spp. LXXIII, CXLV) but primarily of papyrus discoveries since 1906: although some of these were from speeches whose titles were previously known (XII, LXIV, LXX), others were completely new (L, LXV, CXLIV); while a page of papyrus hypotheses has yielded no fewer than ﬁve new titles (LXXII, CX, CXVI, CXXXIV, CXXXVIII), and perhaps more importantly, a considerable insight into the formation of the corpus (below). 68

Ps.-Plut. Life of Hypereides, 849d (75 attributed, of which 52 genuine). A ﬁgure of 160 speeches was attributed to Deinarkhos by Demetrios of Magnesia, according to Dionysios (On Deinarkhos, §1). 69 Dionysios seems to have had difﬁculty in ﬁnding an example to illustrate the third of these categories, since he expresses some doubt as to whether it was delivered and commits himself only to saying that it was composed in a style suitable for a real debate ( πρ α2γνα πιτηδεω, On Lysias, §32). The signiﬁcance or otherwise of his failure to select Lys. 2 as his epideictic example is discussed at p. 160 n. 54 below. 70 Lys. frag. 279 is a 366-word quotation from the speech Against Teisis, which survives through being quoted by Dionysios, On the Style of Demosthenes, §11. Of the surviving speeches, Lys. 5 is still shorter (283 words), but this is because some pages in the manuscript are lost.

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quotation are longer than a hundred words, and most are very much shorter; the bulk of our information comes from the lexicographers, and tells us simply that Lysias perhaps in a particular speech used a particular word or phrase in a particular sense.71 Given that our manuscripts of Lys. 1–31 contain fewer than one-tenth of the speeches attributed in antiquity to Lysias, it is worth asking why these particular speeches have survived, and whether they are in any way unrepresentative. Have they been selected for instance because they were felt to be Lysias’ ﬁnest speeches (but many of those cited for special comment by Dionysios, Ps.-Plutarch, or Photios are not included)?72 Did the process of selection concentrate on preserving what were felt most likely to be the genuine works of Lysias (but it is hard in that case to account for the survival e.g. of Lys. 8)? Or were they selected because they were believed to be speeches in which the orator won his case, perhaps against odds (but how far was this known)?73 As far as the mediaeval manuscripts of Lysias are concerned, all the remaining copies of Lys. 3–31 are derived directly or indirectly from a surviving archetype, Palatinus Graecus 88 (usually designated MS ‘X’), now in Heidelberg.74 This is a manuscript of the late twelfth or early thirteenth century, and is signed by a scribe named Theodoros, though changes in handwriting reveal that he had assistance in small sections from three other copyists. From a note at the back of the manuscript, X is known to have been in Nicaea (temporarily the capital of the surviving Byzantine empire after the 1204 sack of Constantinople) and was probably therefore a product of Byzantine scholarship, but was subsequently brought to the West, where its various apographs were all produced in or after the ﬁfteenth century: work on these secondary manuscripts by Sosower (1982, 1987) and others has added considerably to our knowledge of renaissance scholarship on Lysias, but although they provide some scribal corrections, they do not contribute independently to the establishment of the text. The loss of several pages from X, which evidently took place before any of its apographs was copied, has led to the mutilation of several speeches, with two leaves missing at the end of Lys. 5 and the start of Lys. 6, a further leaf towards the end of Lys. 6, and a complete quaternion 71 The papyrus fragments are often longer than this (about 540 words for instance can be read or restored in the Hippotherses), but the text is often not continuous. Carey (2004a: 123) likens them to a Swiss cheese. 72 Dionysios in fact mentions none of Lys. 1–31. Ps.-Plutarch derives material from Lys. 12 at 835f2 of the Life of Lysias, and probably refers to it under a different title at 836b2 (see respectively p. 9 and p. 6 n. 19 above); in addition, he alludes almost certainly to Lys. 2 in the Life of Isokrates, 837f4–7. Photios in the Bibliothe¯ke¯ (codex 262, at 489a14–b2) includes also a detailed discussion of Lys. 7. 73 For an interpretation of Ps.-Plut.’s claim that Lysias lost only two of his cases, see p. 31 n. 116 below. 74 This was conclusively demonstrated by Sauppe (1841). For detailed discussion of the main manuscripts, see Carey (2007: pp. xi–xviii). Roncali (1969: 392–397) details the contents of 50 manuscripts of Lysias (Sosower 1987: xii adds two more but without listing their contents): of Roncali’s manuscripts, 21 contain some or all of Lys. 1–31, while the other 29 contain either or both of the ﬁrst two speeches but none of Lys. 3–31.

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of eight leaves missing at the end of Lys. 25 and the start of Lys. 26. Since the quires are numbered, we can estimate with some accuracy the amount of text that is missing in each case, though we cannot of course know where in the missing pages one speech ended and the next one began. The manuscript does however contain a table of contents, from which it is clear that the gap between the speeches that we know as Lys. 25 and Lys. 26 contained also the now lost speech Against Nikides.75 Lys. 1–2, by contrast, has a separate textual tradition both within X and outside it. Within X, the most striking feature is physical separation, such that the manuscript both as we have it and as listed in its table of contents begins with Lys. 1–2, follows this with ﬁve epideictic speeches (attributed variously to Alkidamas, Antisthenes and Demades, all of the sort that are common in anthologies), and only then continues with Lys. 3–31, before concluding with another epideictic and much anthologised speech (Gorgias’ Encomium on Helen).76 Both Lys. 1 and Lys. 2 also have a separate textual tradition in the sense that they are found in a much wider range of manuscripts, and that in each case some of these manuscripts derive from sources independent of X.77 The most important evidence for the process underlying the selection of Lys. 3–31 to form the core of our corpus of Lysias is a papyrus containing hypotheses or brief summaries of Lysianic speeches.78 This papyrus, written in the late second or early third century ad and published in 1966, comprises two sides of a single sheet evidently from a codex; it offers titles plus brief summaries (each typically 2–8 lines) of some twenty speeches, grouped under seven headings, all of which are attested as the names of Athenian legal procedures.79 As it happens, the second 75 There are however ten fragments of this speech (Lys. frag. sp. CXIII), nine of them from Harpokration, which enable us to form some idea of its contents. The signiﬁcance of this speech for understanding the formation of the corpus is discussed at p. 24 with n. 91 below. 76 Traces of internal numeration within X suggest that Lys. 1–2 may have been a later addition after Lys. 3–31 had already been completed (Carey 2007: p. xv), so it is possible that they were obtained from a different source. It is notable that where the apographs of X contain speeches from both groups, there are no intervening speeches by other authors between Lys. 1–2 and Lys. 3–31. 77 For details, see Carey (2007: pp. xix–xx). The separate tradition of Lys. 1–2 means that their location within X does not invite explanation in the same way as does the structure of the ‘corpusculum’ (below), but see p. 56 below for discussion of Dover’s view that Lys. 1 was copied here in error for the similarly-titled Lys. 12. 78 P.Oxy. 2537, ﬁrst published by Rea (1966: 23–37) and republished with additional readings and conjectures in the new OCT (as frag. 308). The signiﬁcance of this papyrus for understanding the corpus is discussed by Dover (1968: 11–13) and by Carey (2007: pp. viii–ix). 79 The groups are all dikai (private prosecutions) except where speciﬁed: (i) biaio¯n (for [sexual] violence), at least two speeches at verso lines 1–5, heading on previous page but restored from line 3; (ii) kake¯gorias (for defamation), four speeches, heading at verso line 6, speeches summarised are Lys. 10, 11, 9 and 8 (in that order); (iii) exoule¯s (a form of possession order), ﬁve speeches, heading at recto line 29, three of them on the recto and two on the verso page; (iv) antidoseo¯s (for exchange of property, arising from obligation to undertake liturgy, i.e. compulsory public service), two speeches, heading restored at verso line 12 in view of line 13; (v) parakatathe¯ke¯s (for recovery of loan), ﬁve speeches, heading at verso line 17; (vi) (graphe¯) xenias (against a foreigner pretending to be a citizen), heading restored at verso line 33 in view of title of ﬁrst such speech, apparently three speeches in view of lines 37 and 39; (vii) six speeches, but only traces of heading remain (verso line 42).

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of these groups provides a very illuminating match with X, since the four speeches summarised in the papyrus appear consecutively in the manuscript (though in a different order) and with substantially the same titles, but it is clear from the contents of the four manuscript speeches that only Lys. 10 is a speech genuinely written for a dike¯ kake¯gorias. The possibility that Lys. 8–11 were linked thematically though not juridically around the theme of defamation had previously been suggested by the nineteenth-century scholar Blass.80 The signiﬁcance of the papyrus, however, is not simply to conﬁrm this hypothesis, but more broadly to suggest that a principle of classiﬁcation based albeit loosely on legal procedure might have applied elsewhere in the corpus also. It is notable for instance that whereas Blass had himself proposed identifying one of the fragmentary speeches as an additional dike¯ kake¯gorias,81 this fragmentary case does not appear in the papyrus, which instead mentions only four speeches under this heading, all of which appear in X together as a group: this suggests that the process of selection that has been used to make up at least this portion of the manuscript may represent the selection of whole groups of speeches, rather than of speeches from within groups. It is notable however that in the papyrus these four speeches appear in a different order from in the manuscript: this suggests that the existence of any groups of speeches which make up the latter may initially have been more ﬁxed than was the internal ordering within such groups. The suggestion that the speeches might have been ‘organised with divisions on a principle which oscillated between legal genre and thematic afﬁnity’ has been applied with some success by Dover to X—or at least the main body of X as originally constructed, viz. Lys. 3–31 with the inclusion of the speech Against Nikides (for which cf. p. 20 with n. 75 above), which for convenience Dover terms the ‘corpusculum’—and more tentatively by Carey to some of the papyri.82 Certainly this theory accounts well for the locating of many of the speeches particularly in the ﬁrst part of the corpusculum, where we can see groups of speeches linked either by legal procedure or by categories that are capable of being described in procedural terms. To take them in order, Lys. 3–4 are both cases of wounding with intent to kill (trauma ek pronoias, cf. pp. 281–284 below): we do know of one other such fragmentary case which on the basis of P.Oxy. 2537

80 For Blass’ thematic analysis of the four speeches, and details of the procedure in each case, see pp. 545–546 below. (One at least of the four might equally have appeared elsewhere in the corpus, cf. p. 581 n. 1 below.) 81 Blass (1887 [1868] : 364) on the Prosecution against Ktesiphon (now conﬁrmed as the ﬁrst of two such speeches: Lys. frag. sp. XCII): the surviving fragment mentions a legal restriction banning the sons (possibly in my view the orphaned sons) of war-heroes from saying anything either justly or unjustly (about persons unspeciﬁed), but this need not be the subject of the case. 82 Dover (1968: 7–22, quotation at p. 11), Carey (2004a: 124, and in more detail 2007: p. viii). I am less convinced by the latter’s suggestion that X reﬂects the deliberate formation of a smaller corpus by the selection of certain procedural/thematic groups of speeches and the exclusion of other groups: our only evidence for such a reduced corpus is X itself, and it is at least possible that these were the only groups that Theodoros or a previous scribe could get his hands on from what will presumably have been a multi-volume or multi-roll collection. For the papyri, see pp. 24–25 below.

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we might have expected to ﬁnd grouped with them,83 but Dover (1968: 27) notes the possibility that this speech might originally have preceded Lys. 3 in the ur-Palatinus, and have been lost by mutilation. Lys. 5–7 similarly form a clear group of speeches focused on impiety (though as we found with the kake¯goria speeches, these are not all graphai asebeias), and this time there are no other clearly-attested fragmentary speeches whose absence from this group might cause surprise.84 Lys. 8–11 have already been discussed. Lys. 12–13 deal with judicial murders committed under the Thirty: neither takes the form of a regular homicide prosecution (dike¯ phonou), and if these are to constitute a complete group of speeches, we would have to suppose that it is either the difference of procedure or the special context of the killings that has led to their appearance separate from other attested homicide speeches.85 From this point onwards it becomes more difﬁcult to apply Dover’s theory consistently, and although there are some examples of groups capable of being represented in terms of legal procedure, there are others where any link would have to be more loosely thematic. The clearest procedural group in the remainder of the corpusculum is Lys. 17–19, which all relate to procedures connected with apographe¯ (denunciation of what is alleged to be public property held in private hands): in this instance there are two other apographe¯-speeches which seem to have been placed elsewhere in the corpusculum for reasons of subject-matter rather than procedural afﬁnity, plus possibly a further apographe¯-case among the fragmentary speeches.86 Dover (1968: 9) suggests that there may be a thematic link between these three speeches and Lys. 20–21, since although the procedure in both of the latter cases is unknown, both defendants seem to be facing a crippling 83 Prosecution of Lysitheos for trauma ek pronoias (Lys. frag. sp. XCVII): titles of lost speeches are not always reliable indicators of procedure, but frag. 212 is plausibly interpreted by Carawan (1998: 222 n. 13) as an attempt to prove intention on the part of a would-be poisoner. 84 For the procedure in each case, see the introduction to the relevant speech. Of the fragments, impiety was certainly mentioned in the two speeches Against Kinesias (Lys. frag. spp. LXXXV– LXXXVI, cf. frags. 195 and 196), but frag. 195 conﬁrms that juridically the ﬁrst of these was a graphe¯ paranomo¯n (cf. p. 6 n. 20 above), and might well have been grouped as such. The trial of Sokrates was deﬁnitely a graphe¯ asebeias, but the Defence Speech on Behalf of Sokrates attributed to Lysias (frag. sp. CXXVII) might have been grouped elsewhere in view of its presumed epideictic character. Blass (1887 [1868]: 362) suggests that the Prosecution against Telamon (frag. sp. CXXX) might have been an impiety case, but only two words are cited, and they could just as easily refer e.g. to the control of a genos and the cult with which it was involved. 85 We might have expected to ﬁnd alongside them the lost speeches Concerning the Death of Akhilleides (Lys. frag. sp. XXVIII), Concerning the Death of Batrakhos (frag. sp. XXX), Prosecution of Mikines for Homicide (frag. sp. CIII), Prosecution of Nikias for Homicide (frag. sp. CXII), and Defence Against Philon concerning the Death of Theokleides (frag. sp. CXXXIX), to say nothing of Lys. 1. 86 Lys. 9 (where the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses show that it has been grouped with the kake¯goria speeches presumably on the basis that it arises out of an alleged insult to public ofﬁcials), and Lys. 29 (which arises from the conviction of the defendant in Lys. 28, itself almost certainly an eisangelia). Blass (1887 [1868]: 360) read the Prosecution of Aiskhines Concerning the Conﬁscation of the Property of Aristophanes (Lys. frag. sp. II, possibly the same Aristophanes as in Lys. 19 but a different case) as an apographe¯; if the title is to be trusted, however, this could well be a graphe¯ paranomo¯n alleging that a decree to conﬁscate had been unlawfully proposed.

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loss of property for offences allegedly committed in a public capacity; a further link which could be suggested, albeit of a much looser type, is that in both Lys. 19 and Lys. 20 the bulk of the case is delivered by a son defending the reputation of his father, and that both speeches make much of the topos that an old man could not conceivably have committed his ﬁrst offence at the age of 70 (19.60; 20.10). The remaining quasi-juridical group is Lys. 27–29, where although there are differences of procedure (cf. p. 22 n. 86 above), nevertheless all three speeches arise directly or otherwise from allegations of embezzlement or the receipt of bribes made against men active in public life (Dover 1968: 7), and it is possible that Lys. 30 has been grouped with them on the basis that it too is a complaint of malfeasance in ofﬁce (Dover 1968: 8). To group any further speeches, however, requires an acceptance of thematic links that are in no real sense procedural. Admittedly Lys. 22 and Lys. 23 both involve defendants who are, either by admission or by allegation, of metic status (Dover 1968: 10); similarly, Lys. 14–15 (a prosecution for military desertion, probably by graphe¯ lipotaxiou)87 and Lys. 16 (a dokimasia for public ofﬁce, cf. below) belong to cases in which allegations are being made about the defendant’s membership of the cavalry (Dover 1968: 9–10). But it is hard to see how either of these putative groups could have been described under a single procedural heading in a list of hypotheses such as P.Oxy. 2537.88 Dover (1968: 7) suggests that Lys. 25–26 might form the core of a group of speeches relating to dokimasia for public ofﬁce, to which one might add that Lys. 24 is another type of dokimasia-speech:89 he is himself concerned that we might have expected Lys. 31 to appear as part of the same group, but suggests that this might have been added at the end of the corpusculum following loss through mutilation of the ur-Palatinus (Dover 1968: 9 and 27). This, however, is hardly a satisfactory explanation of why Lys. 16 (cf. above) has become separated from the putative dokimasia-group,90 nor does it take account of the fact that Lys. 25 and

87

I am not incidentally persuaded by Dover’s description of Lys. 15 as an ‘epitome’ of Lys. 14, since although it relates to the same trial, it is in no sense a summary of the preceding speech in the way that Lys. 11 summarises Lys. 10. He has however highlighted some odd features in Lys. 15 which may represent misunderstandings of the point at issue (Dover 1968: 166), in which case it could be a rhetorical exercise. For epitomes, see p. 541 below. 88 It is of course possible—I owe this suggestion to Michael Gagarin—that a loose grouping by subject (possibly by Kallimakhos, cf. p. 26 below) might have come ﬁrst, followed only later by a systematic catalogue employing technical procedural terms, in which case the looser thematic clusters outlined here might reﬂect a different stage in this hypothetical process of classiﬁcation from the putatively procedural groups analysed in the previous paragraph. 89 The term dokimasia is used for the judicial scrutiny required before the exercise of a right or privilege: most commonly the right to hold public ofﬁce following selection whether by vote or by lot (as at p. 2 n. 5 above), but also e.g. for those claiming entitlement to an invalidity pension (as in Lys. 24). For the general acceptance among scholars that Lys. 25 is a dokimasia-speech (even though the word does not appear in the text), see Todd (2000a: 260). 90 As have also two fragmentary speeches: On Behalf of Eryximakhos (Lys. frag. sp. L: again, generally agreed to be a dokimasia-speech, cf. Todd 2000a: 379); and the Anonymous Dokimasia Speech (frag. sp. CXLV).

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Lys. 26 were originally separated by the lost speech Against Nikides, of which neither the title nor the fragments seem at all easy to reconcile with a dokimasiaspeech.91 The private speeches of Demosthenes provide a possible parallel for a broadly procedural grouping that is applied more consistently at the start of the corpus than at its end.92 They may also provide a parallel for the existence of competing corpora, since it is important to remember that just because X is the basis of all surviving manuscripts of Lys. 3–31, it does not necessarily follow that all ancient collections of Lysias’ speeches will have been arranged in the same way. We do have one piece of papyrus evidence for the existence of a second collection based on procedure, since P.Vindob. 29816, which includes the speech Concerning the Daughter of Antiphon (frag. sp. XII), appears to have contained at least two and possibly more speeches, both or all dealing with matters of inheritance.93 Carey himself (2007: p. viii; more cautiously at 2004a: 124) suggests the existence of another example also, since ‘most of the speeches included in P.Oxy. 1606 come from debt or property cases, where the theme is identiﬁable’; however, the range of procedures that need to be so designated is rather wider than the types of classiﬁcatory term found in the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses,94 and perhaps more

91 The full title of this speech (for which see p. 20 with n. 75 above) is Prosecution against Nikides for argia (lit. ‘idleness’, but cf. below). Of the fragments, frags. 248 and 254, as Carey himself notes, might suggest that Nikides is alleged to be a non-Athenian who has had himself illegally registered as a citizen, a charge which would be relevant also at a dokimasia, but references to moneylending (frag. 253) and the fall of olives (frag. 255), and the mention of three deme names (frags. 251 and 252 along with 254) seem more appropriate for a graphe¯ argias as traditionally interpreted (viz. prosecution of a landowner for mismanagement of family estates). 92 Thus Dem. 27–31 in modern editions deal with his own guardianship dispute, and Dem. 32–38 are all paragraphai (hence the separation from Dem. 56, even though the substantive dispute is very similar to those of Dem. 32–35); there is by contrast no very obvious grouping among Dem. 53–59, which includes several public cases. It should however be noted that although many of the speeches in the manuscripts of Demosthenes are grouped in broadly similar ways, there are signiﬁcant variations both in the grouping and ordering of the paragraphe¯-speeches (details in Butcher 1907: pp. vi–xi), and it is possible that dependence on a single manuscript has made the ordering of Lysias’ corpusculum seem more stable than was really the case. The speeches of Deinarkhos, by contrast, are catalogued by Dion.Hal. (On Deinarkhos, §§10–13, for which see p. 27 below) under four categories (genuine public speeches, spurious public, genuine private, spurious private): the internal organisation of the third category is essentially procedural, but that of the ﬁrst category is more personal and thematic (Dover 1968: 20 perhaps overestimates the procedural element here), and that of the second and to some extent of the fourth is primarily chronological (this being one of Dionysios’ criteria for ascription). We do not of course know how far the internal classiﬁcation of these categories was how Dionysios found his texts, as opposed to being how he left them. 93 Carey (2004a), in the most recent discussion of this papyrus: p. 124 for procedure (either λ*γοι κληρικο claiming an inheritance, or λ*γοι πικληρικο claiming an epikle¯ros, viz. a daughter with no brothers, in whom the inheritance of her father’s estate is vested), p. 136 on number of speeches. 94 The Hippotherses (Lys. frag. sp. LXX) relates in some way to the attempted recovery of property that had allegedly been wrongly conﬁscated; the speech involving Theomnestos (frag. sp. LXV) deals with a loan made without witnesses, possibly leading to a dike¯ parakatathe¯ke¯s; the extant fragment of the speech against ‘. . .ylios’ (the ﬁrst part of the name is lost: frag. sp. CXLIV) relates to maritime trade, which we might expect to have come under a different set of legal procedures.

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signiﬁcantly, Carey himself accepts Medda’s convincing restoration of Lys. frag. 311 line 458 as the title of a graphe¯ paranomo¯n or public prosecution against an illegal proposal. There is however one text which may suggest an entirely different system of organisation: P.Lond. 2852 + P.Ryl. 489, which is palaeographically the latest of our papyri,95 copied about a century after the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses, comprises a page from a codex in which the extant speech Lys. 1 Concerning the killing of Eratosthenes is followed immediately by the previously unknown speech On behalf of Eryximakhos (Lys. frag. sp. L). Given the names in the titles, it is tempting to see this as evidence for a collection organised alphabetically (thus Dover 1968: 5), which is a system well attested for other genres of literature, particularly drama (Daly 1967: 22–25). Admittedly had this principle been strictly followed we might have expected the two to be separated by Lys. 28 Prosecution against Ergokles (thus Avezzù 1985b: lxxxvii), and possibly also by Lys. 17 Concerning the property of Erato¯n, but ancient alphabetisation is rarely carried through consistently to the end of the words listed (Daly 1967: 32–34; C. A. Gibson 2002: 18–19). Even if this alphabetic interpretation is insecure, however, the complete lack of thematic afﬁnity in this papyrus is clear evidence for the continuing existence of a collection that was not organised on any sort of procedural basis.96 The picture that emerges is to my mind therefore one of competing collections, often though not necessarily organised on a basis of legal procedure (loosely deﬁned), from which the elements that go to make up our corpus are in many cases complete groups (and therefore not selected on the basis of perceived quality or genuineness or known or assumed result), but where the survival of particular groups to the exclusion of others may represent the result not so much of selection but of chance survival. It has been suggested (Carey 2007: p. x) that because four out of the eight papyri so far identiﬁed as containing the work of Lysias include speeches which form part of our corpus, we can infer that our speeches were therefore among those most often read in antiquity, which might represent an attenuated process of deliberate selection. But the numbers of papyri are so small that this balance could rapidly change—as indeed it has done signiﬁcantly within the past decade—and at least one of the new discoveries is a scrap so small that it would quite possibly never have been identiﬁed without computer word-search facilities,97 so there is a risk of distortion here. On this basis, I would continue to emphasise the rôle of chance over that of deliberate selection in our interpretation of what survives.

‘Late third to fourth century ad’: Roberts (1938: 103). There is incidentally no evidence as yet for the inclusion of speeches by Lysias and by other orators within the same papyrus, in the way that mediaeval codices often incorporate or contain anthologies (as indeed does X, cf. p. 20 above). 97 P.Oxy. 4716 (ed. Obbink 2005, containing Lys. 21.3–9, 15, 17) covers several columns, but PL III/284 B (ed. Pintaudi & López García 2000, containing Lys. 1.14–15) contains only 39 identiﬁable letters. 95 96

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IV. AUTHORSHIP AND AUTHENTICITY The question of whether speeches attributed to Lysias were genuinely his work was debated in antiquity. Kaikilios and possibly Dionysios, as we have seen (at p. 8 n. 28 above), claimed that only 233 out of 425 purported speeches were genuine. The extent to which such questions had been worked on by previous scholars is not entirely clear. The Hellenistic poet Kallimakhos, who was librarian at Alexandria during the second half of the third century bc, is said to have compiled the Pinakes, a 120-book catalogue of ‘those distinguished in every form of learning and what they wrote’ (Souda s.v. Kallimakhos). Dionysios refers to him on four occasions, twice as authority for the received title of a speech (once by Lysias and once by another orator),98 and the other two times more interestingly in the one of his essays which is devoted speciﬁcally to questions of authorship, where he begins by observing that ‘neither Kallimakhos nor the grammarians from Pergamon have written accurately’ (On Deinarkhos, §1), while later in the same essay he comments in passing that the speech Against Theokrines, which he himself regards as one of Deinarkhos’ genuine public orations, was included by Kallimakhos among those of Demosthenes.99 This second pair of references may imply that Kallimakhos—and also the unnamed Pergamene scholars—had done rather more work on the major orators, and that this was not simply conﬁned to the determination of titles but included attribution of authorship. Unfortunately, however, we have no indication of the basis on which Kallimakhos (or indeed Kaikilios) made their judgments.100 Dionysios himself twice discusses speeches which he believes to have been misattributed to Lysias, in one case criticising by name a previous scholar who had used one of these misattributed speeches as the basis of what Dionysios regards as a misleading analysis of Lysias’ style,101 and in the other case to explain

98 Lysias’ ‘For Pherenikos concerning the estate of Androkleides’ (frag. sp. CXXXV), at Dion.Hal. On Isaios, §6; also the speech, ‘Concerning Halonessos’ (Dem. 7), at Dion.Hal. On the Style of Demosthenes, §13. 99 Dion.Hal. On Deinarkhos, §10: it is perhaps ironic that the speech in question appears as Dem. 58 in modern editions. Photios (codex 265, 491b31–34) remarks somewhat dismissively and without giving reasons that the allegedly Demosthenic speech On Behalf of Satyros, Defence against Kharidemos concerning Guardianship (which does not survive) was attributed to Deinarkhos by Kallimakhos ‘who is not even capable of judging’ (οδ’ !καν Aν κρνειν): he cannot have got this assessment directly from Dionysios, who does not mention Kallimakhos in this context, but it is interesting that Dionysios too rejects this speech, and gives chronological reasons for doing so (Dion.Hal. On Deinarkhos, §13). 100 Cf. similarly Harpokration (p. 27 below, with more detail at p. 626 with n. 9 below). 101 Dion.Hal. (On Lysias, §14), attacking the lost essay On Style by Aristotle’s successor Theophrastos of Eresos for criticisms based on the artiﬁcial diction and obsessive symmetry and assonance found in the Defence Speech on behalf of Nikias (Lys. frag. sp. CXI: presumably epideictic, since it was apparently addressed to Nikias’ Syracusan captors in 413).

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his use of stylistic factors as the primary criterion for attribution.102 He does on the latter occasion cite chronological factors as a supplementary criterion for judging authorship, claiming that his initial suspicions of the two speeches for Iphikrates (the second being frag. sp. LXXVI) had been based on grounds of style, but that this had been conﬁrmed by his subsequent realisation that they were written respectively in 372/1 and 356/5. This is well after the date of 379/8 or 378/7 when he believes Lysias to have died, and he suggests that they were probably the work of Iphikrates himself. There is something of a contrast here with the methodology that he adopts when dealing systematically with Deinarkhos, where he places chronological factors ﬁrst (On Deinarkhos, §4), and uses them as the primary criterion of authorship in his speech-by-speech catalogue (for which see p. 24 n. 92 above): this may however be because his stylistic rule-of-thumb for attribution to Deinarkhos is fundamentally negative, consisting of the absence of the desirable characteristics which he attributes either to Lysias or to Hypereides.103 Outside Dionysios, we have very little in the way of reasoned argument from antiquity about the ascription of particular speeches, apart from a passing comment by Photios criticising the shadowy Paul of Mysia for his failure to appreciate Lysias’ special combination of literary merits, and particularly for his rejection of Lys. 7 (codex 262, 489a34–b2):104 he goes on to complain that Paul’s rejection of this and of many other speeches has led to their neglect and therefore their disappearance, which is a perceptive point even though in this instance the speech that is the subject of his comments has survived. The ancient author who expresses a view on the authenticity of by far the greatest number of speeches is Harpokration in the second century ad, whose Lexicon to the Ten Orators regularly cites authors and titles often with brief quotations to illustrate his lemmata, but he questions the authorship of some speeches—though in our manuscripts not always consistently—with the comment ‘if genuine’ (gne¯sios). As is noted at p. 626 with n. 9 below, where the pattern of Harpokration’s citations is brieﬂy analysed, nineteenth-century scholars used this as perhaps the most conclusive criterion for determining authorship, albeit with elaborate reservations when they disagreed with him. The chief difﬁculty in evaluating Harpokration’s judgments, however, is that he does

102 Dion.Hal. (On Lysias, §12), on the speech Concerning the Statue of Iphikrates (Lys. frag. sp. XX, with alternative title), which he regards as forceful but lacking in Lysias’ ‘charm’ (kharis) and euphony of diction (eustomia lexeo¯s). Dionysios does not say whom he is attacking here, but for a maverick if possibly later ancient reader of this speech, see p. 478 below. 103 Dion.Hal. (On Deinarkhos, §7): charm (<τ > χα´ριεν), persuasiveness (τ πιθαν*ν), precision of language (τ τν @νοµα´των α2κριβ ) and adherence to reality (<τ > τ8 α2ληθεα αBπτ*µενον) in the case of Lysias; forcefulness of diction (τ8 µ&ν λ ξεω τ σχυρ*ν), simplicity of composition (τ8 δ& συνθ σεω τ αBπλο'ν), effective timing (τν δ& πραγµα´των τ ε?καιρον) and absence of melodramatic artiﬁciality (τ8 δ& κατασκευ8 τ µD τραγικ ν µηδ& @γκδε) in that of Hypereides. 104 On the question of how far the criticisms expressed by Photios are the latter’s own work, and the possible identity of Paul, see p. 478 below.

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not give reasons, and he never (at least in the case of Lysias) indicates where they have come from.105 The second approach taken by nineteenth-century scholars relied on linguistic features such as hapaxes and hiatus (the latter was identiﬁed by Benseler 1841 as something that Isokrates and in his view later orators sought systematically to avoid but Lysias did not): these approaches have some merit, but their use requires the exercise of judgment on the part of the reader, and is not as objective as might at ﬁrst appear.106 A wider range of stylometric criteria is deployed in an important study by Dover (1968), who devotes two chapters to a comparison of other speeches with Lys. 12, which he regards as the one indubitably genuine forensic speech. In the ﬁrst of these chapters he selects as his sample a series of speeches of comparable length—Lys. 12, Lys. 13, and several attributed to other orators—and applies to them a succession of what he terms ‘crude stylometric tests’:107 his conclusion is that internal variations within each of the speeches tested outweigh any detectable variation between them. In the second of the chapters he moves on to more ‘reﬁned stylometry’, comparing all the other forensic speeches with Lys. 12 and dealing primarily with vocabulary choice and wordorder: the end product here is a series of interesting observations about the pattern of linguistic usage in individual speeches.108 Perhaps surprisingly, given that the book focuses so heavily on stylometric analysis, Dover’s conclusion seems to be that it is not a reliable tool for attributing authorship, and in the ﬁnal two chapters of the book he puts forward a much more signiﬁcant hypothesis, albeit based less on stylistic features and more on a theory of logography. It was noted at the start of this introduction (p. 3 above) that the traditional interpretation of the relationship between litigant and logographos rests on a clear demarcation of rôles, with the latter writing the speech and the former performing it. Dover’s innovation was to call into question this demarcation, suggesting that the logographos will at least in some cases have acted as what he terms a ‘consultant’, suggesting ideas and collaborating in the drafting of the speech rather than presenting the client with a ﬁnished product. This is in some ways an attractive theory,109 though its strength is also its weakness, in that a relationship

105 He does in the case of one speech attributed to Demosthenes state that it was regarded as genuine by Kallimakhos but as spurious by Dionysios (Harpok. s.v. enepiske¯mma, on the lost defence speech Against Kritias). Kaikilios is cited once (s.v. exoule¯s), but not for a question of authorship. 106 See the discussion of hiatus (a vowel at the end of a word followed by another word beginning with a vowel) and hapaxes (words found nowhere else in Lysias or sometimes in other orators) at pp. 549–551 below, and, for a test-case, the analysis of hapaxes at pp. 625–626 below. 107 Such as the frequency of the deﬁnite article, the frequency of use of the most common connecting particles (kai and de), the ratio of participles to ﬁnite verbs and of aorist aspect to imperfective and perfective forms (results tabulated at Dover 1968: 112–113). 108 Summarised at Dover (1968: 146). Equally valuable are his passing observations, e.g. on the frequent use of the articular inﬁnitive in Lys. 31 (Dover 1968: 88–89). 109 For the possibility that the logographos might have been involved in suggesting which documents should be produced during the preliminary hearing before the arbitrator, see p. 636 n. 42 below.

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which is by deﬁnition secret will not leave positive evidence; and it relies heavily, for instance, on assumptions about the workings of the ancient book-trade. Several critics have pointed out that Dover’s putative relationship between client and consultant is not reﬂected in the ancient terminology, since logographos means precisely ‘speech-writer’ without any sense of collaboration (Kennedy 1970: 497, Usher 1976: 31); nor does it seem to have been something with which Dionysios was familiar, and ‘it is not really enough to say that we know more about the fourth century than Dionysios did’ (Kennedy 1970: 497, quoted by Winter 1973: 39 n. 12). In addition, Usher (1976: 34–35) has identiﬁed two ancient anecdotes about speech-writing, both of which seem to presuppose that the traditional interpretation was at least regarded as the norm. The ﬁrst of these is Theophrastos’ character-sketch of the hypothetical ‘querulous man’ (mempsimoiria = Characters, 17.8), describing him as the sort of person who wins his dispute by the unanimous vote of the court but nevertheless complains to the person who wrote his speech that he had left out many good points, and what is signiﬁcant here is that Theophrastos is a late-fourth-century writer contemporary with Deinarkhos, the last of the Ten Orators. The second anecdote is later, but in some ways still more revealing: Plutarch (On Garrulity, 5 = Moralia, 502c5–10), writing in the second century ad, tells a story about Lysias himself having written a speech and given it to a litigant (λ*γον συγγρα´ψα -δωκεν), only for the latter to come back and complain that each time he read it, what had initially seemed a brilliant speech appeared less persuasive. The point of the story as Plutarch tells it is of course Lysias’ predictable response that the jury would only hear it once; its signiﬁcance for Dover’s theory, however, is the assumption that the client’s ﬁrst action will be to read the speech through repeatedly and in private, presumably in order to learn it by heart, suggesting that control of the contents of the text is assumed to lie ﬁrmly in the hands of the logographos. In a more systematic and computer-based response to Dover’s implicit rejection of the value of stylometric analysis as applied to the Orators, Usher & Najock (1982) have tested each of the speeches for divergence under ﬁve headings.110 The summary of their ﬁndings awards between nought and three asterisks to each speech under each such heading, with the greater number of asterisks showing the greater divergence from what is typical within the corpus. On this basis, and bearing in mind that no other speech receives more than three asterisks, they suggest the athetisation of the following speeches: Lys. 9 (nine asterisks), Lys. 8 (eight ditto), Lys. 6, Lys. 2, and Lys. 20 (seven), Lys. 7 and Lys. 23 (six), and possibly Lys. 31, Lys. 32, and Lys. 14 (ﬁve).111 To some extent this list corresponds with the traditional scholarly consensus, which has always regarded Lys. 2, Lys. 6, Lys. 8, Lys. 9, and Lys. 20 as among the most suspect, but there are some surprises: 110 Usher & Najock’s headings are: (i) FW (frequent words), (ii) IWC (initial word classes), (iii) WC (word classes in general), (iv) FWC (ﬁnal word classes), and (v) VR (vocabulary richness). 111 Usher & Najock (1982: 103–104), noting that they do record some disagreements between the two authors over their response to the last three speeches, and also (for generic reasons) to Lys. 2. They do not include Lys. 11 in their analysis, since it is agreed to be an epitome of Lys. 10.

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for instance, Lys. 15 has always been thought more likely to be the work of another author (possibly a rhetorical exercise, cf. p. 23 n. 87 above) than Lys. 14, but receives no asterisks in comparison with the latter’s ﬁve; and the only ancient scholar known to have denied Lysias’ authorship of Lys. 7 is generally regarded as a maverick (cf. p. 478 below). A signiﬁcant objection to Usher & Najock’s conclusions, however, is that they have reached their ranking order simply by adding the total number of asterisks for each speech, without regard to their distribution.112 Usher (1999: 244 n. 1) has subsequently observed, with reference to Demosthenes, that criteria for judging authorship include ‘assessments of literary worth and technical competence, which are, despite their subjectivity, not without value, and should be accepted until scientiﬁc examination of objective criteria can be conducted on the whole corpus’. I am myself less sanguine than this about the value of such allegedly objective criteria, partly because the sample sizes at least for Lysias are relatively small, but primarily because of the possibility that differences of genre, and potentially also of voice or audience, might have inﬂuenced the type of literary effects that an orator was seeking to achieve. Like Dover, therefore, I remain to be convinced of the value of stylometric analysis for the attribution of the speeches of Lysias. Unlike him, however, I do not believe that this rejection of stylometry requires us to reject also the concept of authorship as traditionally conceived, in favour of its redeﬁnition by Dover as a composite achievement, and it seems to me likely that the subsequent public circulation of the written version—the term ‘publication’ is perhaps best avoided, because of the connotations of mass-production associated with printing—will normally have been undertaken by the orator rather than the client.113 It is worth bearing in mind that the concept of authenticity, when applied to ancient law-court speeches, is a complex one. We need to distinguish between issues relating to authenticity of occasion (was the speech written for delivery on the occasion to which it purports to belong? to what extent has the surviving version been revised for public circulation after the trial?) and those relating to authenticity of authorship (is it the work of the orator to whom it is attributed?). Lys. 9 and Lys. 20, for instance, are generally now agreed to be speeches written for real trials during Lysias’ adult lifetime, but not to have been Lysias’ work. Conversely, it is very difﬁcult to see Lys. 2 as a speech written for delivery at a public funeral ceremony, but that does not preclude the possibility that it was written by Lysias as a rhetorical exercise.

112 For instance, Usher & Najock award three asterisks to Lys. 9 under each of the ﬁrst three headings with none under the other two, which could be held to signify that the fourth and ﬁfth tests do not conﬁrm its spuriousness; by contrast, Lys. 25 has three asterisks under the ﬁfth heading and none under any other, which could be held to indicate greater divergence albeit in a restricted area of diction than Lys. 23, which has twice as many asterisks in total but no more than two under any heading (2/2/0/0/2). 113 It is, as Kennedy (1970: 497) points out, far easier to see what the orator had to gain in terms of attracting clients.

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Although questions of authorship are discussed in the introductions to the speeches in this commentary, at least where this is a matter of controversy, they are not to my mind fundamental to the value of the speeches as historical texts. To that extent, I am more concerned with questions relating to the authenticity of occasion, and I do not for instance accept the proposition that a pamphlet, even if contemporary, can for historical purposes be equated with a speech, because of the different types of control that the different audiences would impose on what could be said (see p. 403 with n. 18 below).114 Equally, however, I do not accept the view that a contemporary speech loses its value as a historical document simply because Lysias was not its author (see pp. 581–582 with n. 3 below). There are of course some questions of interpretation for which authorship matters a great deal, either throughout the corpus or in relation to particular speeches. To speak of Lysias’ style, or his use of narrative, argument, or characterisation, for instance, is to presuppose that we have succeeded in identifying which of the speeches are genuinely the work of Lysias. As far as individual speeches are concerned, I have suggested elsewhere that Lysias’ status as metic and his background as (arguably) a war proﬁteer115 makes it important at least to ask what part he played in the composition of Lys. 22, which twice makes explicit the plea to kill metic retailers in order to keep down the price of grain (Todd 1993: 320); by contrast, the praise for the rôle played by xenoi (non-Athenians) in the democratic restoration may be relevant to our interpretation of Lys. 2 (see p. 162 below), as also may the possibility that Plato’s Menexenos is deliberately making fun of Lysias’ appropriation of a genre which prided itself on citizen autochthony (see pp. 155–156 below). Perhaps more interesting, though more speculative, is the suggestion that a direct rivalry between Lysias and his fellow-orator Isokrates may be a possible inference from two sets of speeches summarised in the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses (for which see p. 20 above), both involving claims for repayment of moneys deposited (parakatathe¯ke¯).116 The ﬁrst is the pair of speeches On behalf of Euthunous against Nikias (frag. sp. LVII–LVIII), which are evidently the defence’s response to Isokrates’ speech Against Euthunous, since the speaker in the latter case identiﬁes himself as a sune¯goros (supporting speaker, cf. p. 2 n. 7 above) appearing on behalf of the plaintiff Nikias (Isok. 21.1). It is striking that the

114 There is at least one respect in which it is almost impossible to determine the authenticity of occasion of any of the speeches attributed to Lysias, since we have no way of checking the scale of any post-trial revision (on these questions, see generally pp. 403–408 below). 115 For the phrase, see Murphy (1986: 74). 116 I owe the suggestion of a personal rivalry here to Whitehead (2004: 166 with n. 95). It may be risky to place too much emphasis on Ps.-Plut.’s claim (Life of Lysias, 836a9–10) that Lysias lost only two of his cases (tentatively accepted by Whitehead, but four probable losses are identiﬁed at p. 4 n. 13 above, and the claim need mean no more than that its author was aware of only two speeches of which he thought he knew that this was the result). However, Whitehead’s comment that ‘litigants facing clients of Lysias were likely to come off worst’, which he sees as a possible contributory factor in Isokrates’ abandonment of forensic oratory, may perhaps be supported by the observation that Pasion’s reputation as a banker evidently suffered no long-term damage from the Trapezetikos trial.

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papyrus hypothesis here not only mentions a speech delivered by somebody on behalf of Nikias, but appears also to include the statement that Lysias’ speech made disparaging remarks about Isokrates:117 on this basis, it is tempting to suggest that Isokrates had made the mistake of appearing in person, despite the hostility that could be aroused against a professional orator,118 and that Lysias’ client had made the most of the opportunity. The other is a speech entitled Trapezitikos (‘banking speech’, frag. sp. CXXXIV). We do have independent evidence for the circulation of such a speech under Lysias’ name,119 but mention in the hypothesis of the sum of ‘a thousand [staters]’ and the name of Kissos or Kittos, both of which appear in the speech of the same title that we know as Isok. 17, had led earlier scholars generally to assume that that was the speech which was being summarised here.120 Trevett (1990), however, has pointed out that nothing in the hypothesis requires us to conclude that this was a prosecution speech, as Isok. 17 is, and has suggested on this basis that Lysias had been retained by the defendant, who was the banker Pasion.

V. COMMENTING ON LYSIAS The earliest attested literary analysis of Lysias is arguably in Plato’s Phaedrus (see p. 5 and p. 11 above). As often with Plato, the levels of irony are so complex that it is hard to be sure precisely what he is saying,121 but it seems fairly clear that Sokrates’ initial and enthusiastic praise for Lysias’ verbal clarity (Phaedrus, 234c6–d6, cf. 234e6–8) is subverted by his subsequent criticism of the orator for failing to achieve what Plato would regard as a proper understanding of his subject (Phaedrus, 259e4–6), which itself in Plato’s view undermines the structure of his speech (Phaedrus, 262d8–264c5). Among the ancient scholars known to have worked on Lysias, many of whom have already been mentioned, the most important in literary terms are Dionysios and Photios (see p. 6 and p. 9 above respectively). Dionysios’ essay On Lysias, which is the only systematic assessment of the author to survive from antiquity, was written against the background of the Asianism–Atticism controversy in ﬁrst-century bc rhetorical theory. Since one of the tenets of Atticism—of Lys. frag. 117: ’I[σοκρ]α´τ.ην κα.κ . λ [γει and 7π&ρ. [Νι]κου λ[*]γον. Cf. e.g. Dem. 32.31–32, and similarly Aiskhin. 1.170–176, though there are political overtones in the latter case. 119 Lys. frag. 285a, citing a word which is not found in our texts of Isok. 17 (cf. following note). 120 Thus Dover (1968: 14), who argues for scribal confusion, with the author of the hypotheses knowing there was a speech under this title by Lysias but erroneously summarising that of Isokrates. 121 Compare the praise lavished on the young Isokrates in comparison to Lysias (Phaedrus 278e8– 279b3). It is possible to read it as a straight compliment, but given the likely composition date (cf. p. 5 n. 15 above), some time after the end of Lysias’ career and when Isokrates was an established literary ﬁgure and in some sense Plato’s rival as philosophical educator, I would myself tend to see it as a slightly barbed hint that Isokrates has failed to fulﬁl his philosophical potential. 117 118

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which Dionysios was himself a proponent, though not as extreme as his ally Kaikilios122—was the avoidance of what was perceived as excessive word-play and emotionalism, it is perhaps not surprising that following a short biography, he begins the body of his essay with a survey of ten characteristic features of the orator’s style,123 and that the ﬁrst two points to be highlighted are both in a sense polemical: opening the list is Lysias’ purity of expression (καθαρ* . . . τDν /ρµηνεαν) and avoidance of archaism (§2), and in second place is his adoption of everyday ‘moderate’ language (τν . . . ν µ σ κειµ νων @νοµα´των) and limited use of metaphors (§3).124 In places three to ﬁve come lucidity of style (σαφνεια, §4), brevity (βραχ$τη) in the treatment of subject-matter (§5), and a use of language which reduces ideas to their essentials and expresses them with succinctness (G συστρ φουσα τα` νοµατα κα στρογγ$λω κφ ρουσα λ ξι, §6): in respect of this latter characteristic, Dionysios notes that even Demosthenes had failed to achieve the clarity and simplicity of Lysias (οχ οHτω γε λευκ οδ& α2φελ, §6). There then follow three further characteristics, all of which link language to the depiction of character: the type of vividness (να´ργεια) which makes us feel that we are meeting the characters in the narrative face-to-face (§7); characterisation (IθοποιJα), by which Dionysios appears to mean the ability to depict the client both in thoughts and in words as upright, reasonable and fair-minded (7ποτθεται χρηστα` κα πιεικ8 κα µ τρια, §8); and particularly ‘propriety’ (τ πρ πον), in the use of language appropriate to the age, background and way of life of the litigants, though even here Dionysios may have in mind more the depiction of conventional character-types than what we would understand as individual characterisation (§9).125 The ninth characteristic, persuasiveness (πιθανD κα πειστικ), is mentioned as if it needs no discussion (§10); it is followed immediately, at the climax of the list, by what is generally translated ‘charm’ (χα´ρι), though Dionysios himself clearly regards this as a less than adequate term (§10), and glosses it both here and subsequently in terms which

122

For the latter, see p. 6 n. 21 above: he appears to have scandalised at least one later critic by regarding Lysias as in all respects superior to Plato as a literary artist (Longinus, On the Sublime, §32.8, and cf. more generally §35). 123 ‘Style’ here is narrowly deﬁned, and does not include structural characteristics, which are covered later in the essay. Of the four conventional (but possibly post-Lysianic) divisions of a forensic speech, Dionysios praises (i) Lysias’ proems (§17), and especially (ii) the persuasiveness of the narrative (§18), but he has mixed views about the section of the speeches devoted to (iii) proof (§19), which he regards as making good use of arguments from character but weaker in arousing emotion, and he is similarly critical of (iv) the perorations (§19), which again he sees as weak in emotional appeal. (For a more positive assessment—possibly by Kaikilios—of the structural balance of Lys. 32, see p. 34 n. 129 below.) 124 Given the occasional verse-rhythms that are observed at 1.16n, and also at 8.1 and 12.100 (for which cf. p. 549 n. 29 below), it is striking that Dionysios speaks here of Lysias’ having invented a language with its own harmony but free from metre (λελυµ νη κ το' µ τρου λ ξεω δαν τινα` ε7ρηκ< αBρµοναν): perhaps his desire to discover Attic purity has led him to ignore counterexamples. 125 On the extent of individual characterisation in Lysias, and the tendency of earlier scholars to follow ancient rhetoricians in looking instead for character-types, see Usher (1965).

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seem to link it with good timing (τ K λεγ*µενο καιρ κα πο' τ µ τριον, §11; G χα´ρι κα K πα´ντα µετρν καιρ*, §13). The main feature of interest in the literary assessments reported by Photios lies in the discussion of three speeches, two of which happen to survive (Lys. 7 and Lys. 32). Corresponding problems of interpretation, however, are caused by the difﬁculty of knowing how far he is reporting the views of earlier critics without attribution, which makes it hard to know what consistency of judgment to expect. With the exception of the otherwise virtually unknown Paul of Mysia, criticised in detail in the course of Photios’ discussion of Lys. 7,126 the only critic that Photios mentions by name is Kaikilios (489b13), in the context of a brief allusion to frag. sp. CV Prosecution against Mnesiptolemos (489b11–13).127 Ofenloch’s edition of the fragments of Kaikilios includes also the passage culminating in the discussion of Lys. 32 (488b25–489a13, as Kaikilios frag. 109), even though he is not named here: Ofenloch’s justiﬁcation is that although we owe our text of this speech to Dionysios’ having quoted it at length and discussed it in detail (On Lysias, §§20–27), and although some of Photios’ language does overlap with critical terminology familiar from Dionysios, nevertheless it does so in slightly different contexts,128 and one at least of the views put forward would seem to contradict the type of analysis found in Dionysios, in a way that could be regarded as a piece of pro-Lysias polemic.129 Taken overall, and despite the difﬁculties of attribution, the points made by Photios are of considerable interest because of the ways they hint at a breadth of ancient scholarly views that is not obvious from a reading of Dionysios himself. As far as the modern reception of Lysias is concerned, by far the most productive period (at least as measured in terms of specialist work on the interpretation of the speeches) was the long second half of the nineteenth century.130 Perhaps 126 For discussion of the extent to which some or all of Photios’ comments on Lys. 7 may derive from the work of earlier critics (perhaps indeed Kaikilios or one of his opponents), and for a possible identiﬁcation of Paul of Mysia, see p. 478 below. 127 Kaikilios, frag. 110 Ofenloch (= Photios 489b3–15): more a testimonium than a fragment, given that 489b13 is explicitly critical of Kaikilios. For the view that both of Ofenloch’s fragments derive instead from comments on Kaikilios by the 3rd-cent. critic Longinus, see Heath (1998). It is perhaps worth noting that the Mnesiptolemos speech is mentioned also and equally brieﬂy in Photios’ codex on Demosthenes (cf. Lys. frag. 236b), as if he was reluctant to waste his material. 128 For example, the description of the narrative at 488b37–38 not just as persuasive (πιθανν) but also as ‘pure’ (καθαρα´ν): Dionysios uses the latter term with reference to Lysias’ choice of words, with σαφνεια and cognates used to denote lucidity. 129 The claim that unlike other orators, Lysias does not here jump immediately from narrative into ampliﬁcation and rhetorical effects (τα` αξσει κα τα` δειν=σει): contrast the views of Dionysios reported at p. 33 n. 123 above. 130 No attempt is made here to discuss either the implications of ﬁfteenth-century manuscripts for understanding the revival of Renaissance interest in Classical Greek rhetoric (alluded to at p. 19 above), nor the work of 16th- to 18th-cent. editors of Lysias in establishing the text (esp. the 18th-cent. scholars Taylor, Markland, and Reiske, on which see Carey 2007: p. xxii). An interesting study could be made of early translations—including for instance P. S. Dupont de Nemours’ 1794–95 re-issuing of Lys. 12 (from Athanase Auger’s very scholarly 1783 French version of all the speeches) under the title Lysias, Plaidoyer contre les membres des anciens Comités de Salut Public et de Sûreté Générale, in which

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surprisingly, there has never been a full-scale commentary on the whole corpus of Lysias, as there has been for instance on the admittedly smaller corpus of Isaios (Wyse 1904), but this was the period that saw the two editions of Blass’ literary study, in which each of the speeches is accorded what is often an eight- or tenpage treatment (Blass 1887 [1868]),131 together with what are still the two most substantial multi-volume commentaries on signiﬁcant portions of the corpus, those of Rauchenstein & Fuhr132 and of Frohberger & Thalheim.133 There is a certain self-deprecation in the way that the ﬁrst of these describes itself as being intended for ‘for pupils in the upper classes of Gymnasia’ and the second is similarly subtitled ‘for the use of schools’:134 even without Gebauer’s 311-page repertory of textual conjectures in the (perhaps unsurprisingly) short-lived second edition of Frohberger’s ﬁrst volume, these are both works of formidable scholarship. Outside Germany, which also saw large numbers of commentaries and other studies during this period relating to individual speeches, the country that produced the greatest volume of nineteenth-century work on Lysias was probably the USA, where no fewer than six commentaries on selected speeches appeared in the period from 1876 to 1905:135 taken together, these are of interest both educationally and in terms of the extent to which certain speeches recur and

Eratosthenes is identiﬁed with Collot d’Herbois, Batrakhos and Aiskhyleides with Fouquier-Tinville and Dumas, Antiphon and Arkheptolemos with Danton and Camille Desmoulins, and Theramenes with Robespierre, with continual reference to Auger’s page numbers to conﬁrm the accuracy of the text—but it is impossible here to do more than scratch the surface. 131 There was a similar but much briefer study in English by Jebb (1893 [1876].i–ii), again running into two editions, but with far less by way of secondary literature. Jebb’s fairly brief commentary, which covers only selections from the nine speeches included (Lys. 7, Lys. 10, Lys. 12, Lys. 13, Lys. 16, Lys. 23, Lys. 24, Lys. 33, Lys. 34), again went into two editions (Jebb 1888 [1880]). 132 The ﬁrst edition, by Rauchenstein alone, was in 1848; the most recent editions barring simple reprints were in 1917 (vol. 1, 12th edn.) and in 1899 (vol. 2, 10th edn.). In total, twelve speeches were covered (Lys. 7, Lys. 12, Lys. 13, Lys. 16, Lys. 19, Lys. 22, Lys. 23, Lys. 24, Lys. 25, Lys. 30, Lys. 31, and Lys. 32), though Lys. 13 is not found in the latest editions because of a projected swap with Lys. 19. 133 The ﬁrst edition (by Frohberger alone) was in 1866–71 and in three vols. A subsequent edition of vol. 1 by Gebauer (1880), followed by the ﬁnal edition in two vols. by Thalheim, means that vol. 2, 2nd edn. appeared in 1892, and vol. 1, 3rd edn. not until 1895. In total, ﬁfteen speeches were covered, but only twelve in both complete editions: Lys. 1 (1868 only), Lys. 7 (1892 only), Lys. 10, Lys. 12, Lys. 13, Lys. 14+15, Lys. 16, Lys. 19, Lys. 22 (1892 only), Lys. 24, Lys. 25, Lys. 30, Lys. 31, Lys. 32. 134 ‘Für Schüler oberen Gymnasienklassen’ (Rauchenstein 1848: p. iii, reprinted in all subsequent editions), and ‘für den Schulgebrauch erklärt’ (subtitle of all editions of Frohberger’s commentary). Cf. perhaps the comments of J. G. W. Henderson (2002: 205 n. 2) on the formula ‘primarily for undergraduates, but I hope it will also interest professional scholars’, which he describes as R. G. Austin’s ‘ﬂag of address’. 135 Whiton (1892 [1876]), covering four speeches (Lys. 7, Lys. 12, Lys. 16, Lys. 25); Stevens (1882 [1876]), covering ﬁve (Lys. 2, Lys. 7, Lys. 12, Lys. 13, Lys. 22); Bristol (1892), covering ten (Lys. 7, Lys. 12, Lys. 16, Lys. 17, Lys. 19, Lys. 22, Lys. 23, Lys. 24, Lys. 32, Lys. 33); M. H. Morgan (1895), covering eight (Lys. 7, Lys. 12, Lys. 16, Lys. 22, Lys. 23, Lys. 24, Lys. 31, Lys. 32); Wait (1898), covering ten (Lys. 7, Lys. 12, Lys. 16, Lys. 22, Lys. 23, Lys. 24, Lys. 28, Lys. 29, Lys. 31, Lys. 32); Adams (1905), covering eight (Lys. 12, Lys. 16, Lys. 19, Lys. 22, Lys. 24, Lys. 25, Lys. 32, Lys. 34). For the relative shortage of UK work during this period, see p. 37 with n. 141 below.

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others (e.g. Lys. 1) are repeatedly absent, while several of them are still worth consulting in their own right.136 The twentieth century has for much of its duration seen a signiﬁcant decline in scholarly commentaries, at least in the German- and English-speaking worlds. I have discussed elsewhere some of the reasons for this decline (Todd 1990b: 160–163), emphasising a number of overlapping factors relating to the compartmentalisation of literary and historical scholarship and the place of oratory in the educational curriculum. This pattern of decline has not been universal throughout Europe—Italy has seen the continuing production of commentaries, albeit mainly short works usually on individual speeches and often designed explicitly for teaching purposes137—nor has it prevented Lysias from appearing in the types of series where the Greek text appears with facing translation,138 but although several of these are extremely scholarly works and cover the whole of the corpus and in some cases also the fragments,139 the annotation in each case

136

As with the 19th-cent. national commentaries on Xenophon’s Anabasis analysed by Rijksbaron (2002), one has the impression of a close relationship between books competing for the same market: it is notable for instance that no fewer than four (out of the six listed in the previous footnote) presuppose that Lys. 16 will be the ﬁrst speech tackled, and then Lys. 12 (this is the order in which Whiton presents the text; and cf. the prefatory comments of Wait 1898: 7, Bristol 1892: 16, and Adams 1905: 6). There are however striking differences in academic level: Whiton, Stevens, Bristol, and Wait each focus their attention almost exclusively on how to construe the text, but Adams includes a detailed analysis of the argument and style of each of his speeches, while Morgan incorporates notes on literary parallels and discussion of interpretative problems, with extensive citation of primary evidence and interaction with secondary literature. Of the six, Adams’ (1905) commentary was reprinted by Oklahoma University Press as late as 1989. 137 For a text to be designed for teaching need not imply that it is unscholarly: Albini (1954: 61–62), in an important bibliographical essay, highlighted the continuing production within Italy during the previous ﬁfty years of commentaries typically on individual speeches, singling out six of these for their contribution to scholarship. A search of the http:/www.libreriauniversitaria.it/ webpage (6 June 2005) yielded a total of ninety-three Italian books on Lysias, of which only twelve were currently unavailable, suggesting that works of this type are still signiﬁcant at least nationally. No fewer than eighty-ﬁve of those listed were on individual speeches, of which only nine were over 100 pp. (the average length of the others was 57 pp.): they often belonged to series which identiﬁed themselves either as teaching texts or as having facing translations, and covered between them eighteen speeches (including one on Lys. 5), but with very uneven distribution (fourteen titles for Lys. 24, thirteen for Lys. 1, ten for Lys. 12, seven for Lys. 7, no other speech more than ﬁve times). 138 Greek + English by Lamb (Loeb, 1930); Greek + French in 2 vols. by Gernet & Bizos (Budé: normally cited from fullest edn. of 1955, which includes the 1st edn. of 1924–26 plus addenda; Navarre’s 1992 edn. of vol. 1 contains an extra page of introduction and some revisions of the apparatus to take account of papyri, but omits the 1955 addenda); Greek + Spanish (Alma Mater) by Fernández-Galiano (1953), Gil (1963), & Floristán Imízcoz (2000). Greek + Italian by Albini (1955) and in 2 vols. by Medda (1992–95.i–ii). 139 Collections of fragments: comprehensive in Medda (1992–95.ii) and in Floristán Imízcoz (2000); substantial selection in Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924–26].ii), but with no papyri later than the ﬁrst edition; limited to the largest survivals in Albini (1955). Of the various works mentioned, Gernet & Bizos is particularly interesting on questions of law; all but Medda produce their own editions of the text, with Albini being the most adventurous as a textual critic; Fernández-Galiano et al. is especially useful for bringing together the texts for many of the ancient testimonia to each speech.

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comprises only a short introductory essay on each speech, together with very limited footnotes. This brief survey of modern work on Lysias should not of course encourage us to infer a total lack of interest throughout the twentieth century, since the range of his litigation (as noted at p. 3–4 above) has continued to guarantee regular appearance in the indices locorum of almost every book on Classical Athens. And there are of course more insidious risks in focusing the survey on commentaries because they are easy to count. In the ﬁrst place, it may lead us to ignore the extent to which work even on a single speech can often take different forms (no mention has been made, for instance, of the vast number of nineteenthcentury German dissertations which argue either for or more usually against the authenticity of particular speeches). Second, and interlocking with the issue of form, a survey of commentaries inevitably disregards any studies which are based on themes running throughout the corpus rather than on individual texts within it, including what are by far the best studies of Lysianic argumentation (Bateman 1958a) and characterisation (Usher 1965): the latter is a journal article, while the former is a dissertation which has never been published as a book and of which only two extracts appeared in article form,140 neither of which does justice to the author’s overall thesis about the professionalisation of methods of argument during this period. Having said that, however, the survey is certainly revealing so far as it goes. When I matriculated as a student in 1978, the text recommended for the study of Lysias by the Classics Faculty in Cambridge was Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]).141 It is only since the 1980s that there has been a revival, with two doctoral commentaries in German,142 and three more on selected speeches by established scholars based in the UK:143 it is perhaps an interesting sign of change that each of these three—unlike Shuckburgh and the six US scholars reported at p. 35 n. 135 above—has chosen to include Lys. 1 among the selection.

140

One of Bateman’s two papers (1962: 159) does touch brieﬂy on what he sees as a shift in the manner of arguing cases in court between 411 and 403, but his dissertation (1958a: 168–172) concludes with a much broader thesis, suggesting that Lysias’ success lay not in developing Antiphon’s ‘professional’ organisation of his material, but in taking the ‘non-professional’ approach that is seen operating chaotically in contemporary speeches by other orators (in which group he places Lys. 6, Lys. 9, and Lys. 20), and giving it a type of cohesion that nevertheless does not appear professional. 141 An odd selection (Lys. 5, Lys. 7, Lys. 9, Lys. 10, Lys. 12, Lys. 13, Lys. 14, Lys. 16, Lys. 17, Lys. 19, Lys. 22, Lys. 23, Lys. 24, Lys. 28, Lys. 30, Lys. 32), made particularly inconvenient because Shuckburgh reassigned them the numbers 1–16 and annotated them on the basis not of §-numbers but of linenumbers in his own edition. Although it contains some useful introductory comments on particular speeches, the fact that it was still being republished in cut-down form (ﬁve speeches rather than sixteen) by Bristol Classical Press as late as 1991 may indicate the absence of competing editions within the U.K. 142 Weissenberger (1987) on the group of four dokimasia speeches (Lys. 16, Lys. 25, Lys. 26, Lys. 31), and on a more substantial scale Hillgruber (1988) on Lys. 10. 143 Usher (in Edwards & Usher 1985), covering seven speeches (Lys. 1, Lys. 10, Lys. 12, Lys. 16, Lys. 22, Lys. 24, Lys. 25); Carey (1989), covering six (Lys. 1, Lys. 3, Lys. 7, Lys. 14, Lys. 31, Lys. 32); and Edwards (1999), covering ﬁve (Lys. 1, Lys. 12, Lys. 19, Lys. 22, Lys. 30).

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Discussion of previous commentaries obviously raises questions about my aims in writing this one, and several of my inclusions and omissions may require a word of explanation. This is primarily a historian’s commentary, in that my interest in the speeches was initially aroused by the question of how one might use them as historical evidence.144 But I do not believe that it is legitimate to interpret historical sources which are themselves literary texts without paying attention also to literary questions—or, at least, to some literary questions.145 It will be obvious to the reader that I am interested in issues of narrative, of persuasion, and of rhetoric in the sense of the manipulation of weighted or ambiguous language, but that I am not particularly interested in stylistic issues which do not to my mind affect interpretation, such as the collection and classiﬁcation of Aristotelian rhetorical ﬁgures.146 Since I am not by profession a textual critic, I have gratefully accepted the offer of Chris Carey and of the Press that I should use his new OCT rather than attempt to edit my own text:147 some textual matters are discussed in the Commentaries, but only where this affects interpretation, on the grounds that the issue of what Lysias might have written is a question of historical importance insofar as it affects the use of the text as evidence. Nor have I attempted the systematic presentation of realia, useful though it might be to offer a comprehensive reference work on topics that happen to be mentioned in the text;148 the sheer scale of reference required to cover a text of this scope requires selectivity, and I have therefore sought to concentrate my attention on two types of material: issues which have been the subject of signiﬁcant scholarly debate and/or for which the text itself provides important historical evidence, and those where the provision of such information seems necessary for a historical understanding of the text. It is perhaps worth noting that in cases where realia are tied to particular Greek words, the fact that every research library now has the facility to undertake

144

My reading of ‘historical’ is broad, and includes issues of e.g. law, religion, and social life. There is I think a potential difference between my preferred phrase ‘historian’s commentary’ and the more common ‘historical commentary’, in that the latter can imply an explicit avoidance of literary questions (examples are discussed by Ash 2002: esp. 270 and 281–282). 146 In this, I would align myself with Whitehead (2003: §1) against Usher (1999: 1–26), in believing that the rhetorical tekhnai traditionally attributed to 5th-cent. ﬁgures like Tisias and Korax (the former being the reputed teacher of Lysias, cf. p. 8 n. 29 above at item f ) are likely to have been at most model speeches rather than prescriptive manuals: later theorists were admittedly capable of analysing the works of early orators using Aristotelian terminology, but this does not demonstrate that Lysias himself would have analysed his material in such terms. For the contents of early rhetorical tekhnai, see generally T. Cole (1991: 82–89). 147 I have not personally collated the manuscripts, though I have beneﬁted from Carey’s answers to questions especially about the structure of X, and also from participating in several of his seminars on the papyrus fragments. 148 For this as a (contentious) function of a commentary, see R. K. Gibson (2002: 344–346). I hope that the inclusion of substantial indices will assist the reader to track down discussions of realia where they occur. 145

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computer word-searches via TLG has made the listing of references a less useful end in itself than it was for previous generations of commentators. A signiﬁcant purpose for which readers look to a commentary is as a source of guidance on the interpretation of particular passages, and obviously I have sought to fulﬁl this need, but I have tried to restrain myself from what is sometimes described as the commentator’s habit of citing every previous scholar known to have worked on a problem, in favour of giving space to those whose views I have found interesting. Similarly, following the lead of my colleague Roy Gibson (2002), I have refrained where possible from lists of parallel passages in the form ‘cf. e.g.’, and have concentrated instead on those cases where patterns of usage seem to merit discussion. One of the perils inherent in the commentary format to which attention has recently been directed is that of atomising the text:149 this is a particular danger for those of us who grew up as students writing ‘gobbets’ (historical commentaries on short passages, often written under exam conditions), which can encourage precisely the habit of ﬁnding each passage so interesting that we do not stop to consider its wider context. In the case of Athenian oratory, it is of course always important to bear in mind questions of forensic strategy, and especially the way that rhetorical misrepresentation often works by the suppression of inconvenient ideas or the manipulation of ambiguous language, given the risks involved in too obvious a statement of what is explicitly untrue. An awareness of the constraints imposed by legal procedure or by the likely extent of public knowledge in each case can be useful here in drawing attention to what the orator does not say, as can comparison with other speeches either in the corpus or in the works of other orators, particularly where these take the opposite side of the case in similar forms of litigation. It is because of the need on the one hand to keep in balance an overall attention to detail which would not be possible in a purely thematic approach, but on the other hand a desire to set this within a context of forensic strategy, that each of the speeches is the subject of its own introductory essay.150 These are on a more substantial scale than is sometimes found in commentaries on multiple speeches, particularly those intended chieﬂy for teaching purposes, where there can be a pressure to use the introduction primarily to summarise the contents of the speech, rather than to explore ways in which it might be or has been read. It will be seen that in these essays (and occasionally elsewhere) I have made extensive though necessarily selective151 use of nineteenth-century scholarship on the 149 Thus e.g. Most (1985: 36–38), focusing particularly on the lemmatic habits of ancient scholarship and its inﬂuence on the thinking of modern critics; also Ma (1994: esp. 76–77), emphasising the extent to which commentaries share this problem with putatively more sophisticated forms of scholarship. 150 The exception is Lys. 11, which in view of its derivative status is introduced (brieﬂy) at the end of the introduction to Lys. 10. 151 Even with the use of Inter-Library loan and computerised catalogues, there are some things I have simply not been able to lay my hands on. For the (selective) citation of predecessors even where this involves tracing what the commentator regards as blind alleys, see Goldhill (1999: 409–411).

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General Introduction

authenticity of particular speeches: although this work can often have a very narrow focus on questions of authorship, it is nevertheless useful precisely because those who are desperate to prove such a thesis are likely to notice things in the text which are in some way problematic, and the identiﬁcation of such problems can often provoke broader questions of interpretation. Since I am writing as a historian rather than as a literary critic, I take a relatively relaxed attitude to the authenticity of authorship and am much more concerned about authenticity of occasion (for the distinction, see p. 30 above). It should perhaps be noted, however, that Lys. 1–11 contains an unusually large proportion of speeches whose authenticity is generally contested, and obviously such questions are covered in the appropriate introductions: in general, my views on such matters are broadly conventional, in that I regard Lys. 11 as an epitome (the only one in the corpus), and Lys. 8 as a work by an author signiﬁcantly later than Lysias; Lys. 6 (where this is still sometimes doubted) and Lys. 9 are both in my view best read as works of misattributed authorship but as genuine and contemporary law-court speeches; I am probably more in a minority in viewing Lys. 2 as a genuine work of Lysias but written for epideictic display rather than delivery. Because questions of authorship are in many cases ultimately matters for judgment rather than knowledge, however, I have systematically refrained from using the convention of square brackets to distinguish those of the speeches which I regard as not being the work of Lysias, nor have I (like Albini 1955) placed them at the end of the corpus for restricted consideration: my reason in the ﬁrst case is that it would require taking a deﬁnite decision about each speech and would convey the impression of positive certainty in cases where square brackets are not used; in the second, because it would imply that speeches which are not genuinely by Lysias are therefore not as interesting (which is possibly true of Lys. 8 and certainly of Lys. 11, but hardly of Lys. 9 or Lys. 6, let alone of Lys. 2).152 The question of how to balance the Greek text and the needs of a wider audience raises a number of problems for the modern commentator. It is fundamental to a commentary of this type that what is being addressed should at all times be the Greek text, rather than (as for instance in the Aris & Phillips commentaries, which aim to fulﬁl a different purpose) an English translation. Correspondingly, however, it seems to me essential that as scholars we should endeavour as far as possible to present our arguments in a form that is accessible for instance to our own students as well as to fellow-professionals: this is a particular issue in Ancient History, certainly at my own University, where a signiﬁcant proportion of students on our undergraduate courses are taking degree programmes in History. It is with this in mind that I have provided not simply a facing translation, which in this case is based on work that I did in preparing a translation of Lysias for Michael Gagarin’s Oratory of Classical Greece series

152 For the tendency at least in literary commentaries to assimilate texts which are regarded as inauthentic with those which are regarded as late, imitative, and aesthetically bad, see R. Hunter (2002, e.g. at 88 and 99).

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several years ago,153 but have followed the lead of e.g. Hornblower (1991–i–ii) in heading each of the lemmatic notes within my Commentaries not simply with the Greek text that is being commented on but with the corresponding phrase from the translation. Perhaps more controversially, I have tried where possible to present single Greek words or short phrases in the body of the text (both in the introductions and in the Commentaries) in transliteration rather than in Greek script. More technical linguistic arguments requiring longer passages of Greek are generally presented in footnotes. It is in the nature of forensic speeches that the process of commentating involves the use of some technical terminology, particularly that dealing with Athenian law. Unlike a monograph, where it can reasonably be expected that the reader will normally be glancing at least through a whole chapter, a commentary is the sort of text that readers will often wish to consult rapidly and on particular points. With that in mind, I have tended to accompany the technical terminology of law with a brief gloss where this would seem helpful, even if this results in some repetition. I have tried however not to repeat more extensive explanations, preferring instead the use of internal cross-reference within the volume. It will be seen that I have used footnotes extensively, not simply in the Introductions but also in the Commentaries: it is one of the more endearing and infuriating character-traits of commentators to be obsessive about their material, and to want to button-hole the reader with all sorts of ideas about it; and this has seemed the best way of balancing my own desire not to waste material which seems interesting (at least to myself) with the reader’s wish to have the main argument ﬂowing clearly. After some hesitation, I have decided in the end not to include the text and translations of the ancient testimonia to each speech. My reason for this is partly positive, in that references to such material are collected in Carey’s OCT, with many of the texts (though not translations) in Fernández-Galiano (1953); but there is also the negative point that such a collection is only of use if it is comprehensive, and that the nature particularly of the ancient lexicographical tradition means that a comprehensive collection would involve a fair degree of repetition in a volume whose length may already be thought to be self-indulgent. Where testimonia are of particular interest either for the reception of a speech as a whole or the interpretation of particular passages, I have discussed them either in the relevant Introduction or in the Commentary. This has been a lengthy project, ﬁrst envisaged as Research Fellow in 1985–87, during which I prepared the ﬁrst draft (now completely rewritten, though I have continued to ﬁnd useful the material collected then and during my 1981–85 Ph.D.) of a commentary on Lys. 1, but begun seriously during a year at the 153 Since the function of a translation in a commentary of this type is primarily exegetical—to reduce the need to explain in the lemmatic notes how I construe the syntax—the version here is intended to be more literal and less readable than that in Todd (2000a): in addition to the thanks expressed in the preface of this volume to the publishers of that one, I am grateful also to those who both as readers and as reviewers (esp. MacDowell 2001) have pointed out errors or infelicities in the translation there.

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Hellenic Center in Washington, DC in 1995/96, and continued thereafter mainly during periods of leave and the interstices of teaching and increasingly also of other responsibilities. It is my ambition in due course to extend the project in further volumes to cover the remaining speeches, and eventually also the fragments. Pressures in British Universities are such that this will probably take some time, but for a variety of reasons—not all connected with the RAE—this seems the appropriate stage at which to publish a ﬁrst volume, even though it is in the nature of things that it will contain infelicities and errors (I hope only minor ones) which will probably come back to haunt me. Given the likely timescale for the remaining volumes, however, I have taken the opportunity of this volume to present my views on some of the problems relating to other speeches and particularly the fragments, where this seems relevant and where there seems to be something interesting to say.154 154

Such passages are highlighted in the Index Locorum.

Lysias 1 Concerning the Killing of Eratosthenes: Defence Speech Introduction I. THE LITIGANTS, THE COURT, AND THE LAW ON JUSTIFIABLE HOMICIDE Lys. 1 is a defence in a dike¯ phonou (private prosecution for homicide). There is no clear reference to any external political events, and as a result we cannot date it more securely than within the career dates of Lysias (403–c.380).1 Most of the forensic speeches in the corpus carry titles bearing the name of the speaker’s opponent. This reﬂects the balance of naming within the speeches, where opposing litigants are quite often criticised by name (see 3.1n), or even addressed directly (especially in prosecution speeches, cf. 6.49n), whereas the names of Lysias’ clients are usually unknown because they refer to themselves simply in the ﬁrst person. The present speech is unusual in carrying as its title the name not of the opponents, but of the dead man Eratosthenes.2 We can also infer that the speaker himself is named Euphiletos, because of his report at §16 of a remark addressed to him by a third party. It is, as we shall see, possible though not certain that Eratosthenes belonged to a family with past political connections, in which case the failure to mention this would mean that politics is being deliberately suppressed. Euphiletos, on the other hand, is extensively characterised within the speech, but otherwise unknown.3

1 The possible allusion at §30n to the Amnesty of 403/2 offers no further precision. If Lys. 13.68 is read as a reference back to this case (cf. p. 50 n. 31 below), then that would provide a terminus ante quem of c.399, but the allusion is by no means conclusive. 2 Eratosthenes’ name appears in the proem (§4), rather sparingly in the narrative (§16, §19, §23: for the effect of this, see §8n), and in the proofs (§40, §43). 3 The possibility that these names have etymological signiﬁcance is discussed at p. 57 below, and questions of prosopography (including also the two friends of Euphiletos named at §22 and §41) at pp. 57–60 below. For the characterisation of Euphiletos, see pp. 50–52 below.

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The presentation of Euphiletos’ opponents within the speech is very different: they are systematically referred to in nondescript but plural terms (‘these men’ §27, and cf. the plural verbs at §37 and §39). Since we know that prosecution in homicide cases was normally and perhaps exclusively the responsibility of the next-of-kin,4 we can deduce that they are Eratosthenes’ relatives. But their anonymity is itself signiﬁcant, since a key feature of Lysias’ forensic strategy is to invert the legal situation by repeatedly representing the deceased as the defendant and the charge as one of moikheia (adultery, though see below).5 Whereas most homicide defendants deny killing, Euphiletos here admits this but claims justiﬁcation, on the grounds that the dead man had been the lover of his wife and that he had killed him after catching them in bed together. Classical Athenians attributed their law on homicide—uniquely—to the seventh-century legislator Drakon, and what purports to be the text of Drakon’s law was reinscribed in 409/08 during the course of a process of legal reform. Although the inscription is substantial, very little of it is still legible (IG i3, 104), but several extracts evidently from the same text reappear in a speech of Demosthenes (Dem. 23.37, 60), and the text may indeed be the source of the quotation and discussion of the law on justiﬁable homicide at Dem. 23.53–56. The way that this law is phrased, however, is rather different from what we might expect: whereas modern jurisdictions tend to set out general principles for what might constitute justiﬁcation (self-defence against an imminent threat, etc.), the Athenian law instead lists particular circumstances in which homicide is not to be punished, culminating precisely—as here—in the case of someone whose killer had found him in bed either with his wife or with other speciﬁed female relatives or dependants.6 Later in the speech, Demosthenes identiﬁes the court at the Delphinion as dealing with ‘cases where a man acknowledges that he has killed but claims that he has done so lawfully’ (Dem. 23.74).7 At no point does Lysias explicitly state that

4

Tulin (1996) argues that the right of prosecution was restricted to relatives (which is what we might naturally expect from a dike¯), against the arguments of MacDowell (1963: 17–18 with 94–95) and Gagarin (1979: 302–313), both of whom believe that although the law envisaged relatives as the primary prosecutors, nevertheless it did not explicitly rule out the possibility of this being done by non-relatives. See further p. 49 n. 29 below. 5 For this strategy, see pp. 51–52 below with refs. Moikheia is discussed at pp. 46–49 below. 6 The terms in which Lysias reports the law overlap substantially with the text as quoted by Demosthenes (see §30n ΝΟΜΟΣ), but there is one important difference. Both Lysias and also Ath.Pol. 57.3 (which paraphrases the same regulation), speak of it as referring to the capture of a moikhos (broadly ‘adulterer’, though see p. 47 below); however, the word moikhos does not occur in the law as reported by Demosthenes, which could in principle cover cases of rape also (cf. §30n µοιχ ν λαβ=ν). 7 Demosthenes’ word for ‘lawful’ here is ennomo¯s, paraphrased at Ath.Pol., 57.4, as kata tous nomous (‘according to the laws’). Carawan (1998: 122) suggests plausibly that a defendant at the Delphinion could cite other statutes as evidence for lawfulness alongside that quoted at Dem. 23.53, but it seems that he had to produce some statutory basis for his act. Gagarin (1978a) notes that there is no ancient evidence for the view that the Delphinion heard cases of self-defence such as Antiphon’s Third Tetralogy, or of excessive retaliation such as Euaion’s killing of Boiotos in Dem. 21.71–75.

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Euphiletos is addressing the Delphinion, but there seems little doubt that this is the case.8 The Delphinion court is associated by ancient lexicographers with a range of sometimes contradictory mythological details linking it to various actual or attempted killings by or of Theseus, and also with the cult of Artemis and Apollo Delphinios.9 The sanctuary of Delphinian Apollo, and presumably therefore the court, is located by Pausanias near the Olympieion, at and possibly outside the south-eastern boundary of the city.10 Given the particular statutory justiﬁcation for homicide put forward in the current case, it is interesting to note that twice in the Orators we hear of a woman swearing or offering to swear a judicial oath in front of an arbitrator (diaite¯te¯s) at the Delphinion,11 and that in both cases the subject of this oath is the paternity of her children (Isai. 12.9; Dem. 40.11). Trials for homicide at Athens were presided over by the Basileus (the second of the Nine Arkhons), who was responsible for a range of matters primarily concerned with religion (Ath.Pol. 57). In cases of homicide, it was his job to conduct the necessary preliminary hearings or prodikasiai (for details see Ant. 6.42), and to bring the dispute before the appropriate court.12 What is less clear, however, is the make-up of the voting membership of the court that heard the current case. Whereas the Areiopagos was a council composed of those who had held ofﬁce as one of the Nine Arkhons, various ancient sources speak of other homicide courts including the Delphinion being manned by ephetai, in at least some contexts

8 He clearly cannot be addressing the Areiopagos, because of the way he mentions that court at §30. For the jurisdiction of the various homicide courts cited by Demosthenes (Areiopagos, Palladion, Delphinion, Prytaneion, Phreatto), see MacDowell (1963: 39–47, 58–89); a more wide-ranging but more speculative reconstruction is offered by Carawan (1998: 84–135). 9 MacDowell (1963: 70) connects the cult-title to their link with Delphi, though the testimonia for this court (which are collected, translated and discussed by Boegehold 1995: 135–139) focus more on anecdotes about dolphins. It is odd that by no means all of Boegehold’s Delphinion testimonia raise issues of statutory justiﬁcation (e.g. Aigeus’ attempted poisoning of Theseus at Plut. Thes. 12.6), whereas the charter myth that Pausanias associates with the Areiopagos—Ares’ acquittal for killing Halirrhothios son of Poseidon for the rape of Ares’ daughter Alkippe (Pausan. 1.28.5, cf. 1.21.4)—relates to a case which juridically might seem to fall within the competence of the Delphinion. 10 Pausan. 1.19.1, with discussion by Manthe (2000: 219) and by Albini (1952b: p. v). 11 Possibly the sanctuary rather than the court: cf. Goldhill (1994: 357–358), correctly criticising Todd (1990a: 25–27). My more recent views on the question of the presence of women in court are set out in Todd (2000c: 32–36). 12 A strong view of the signiﬁcance of these preliminary hearings is taken by Carawan (1998), who sees them as providing the basis for the development of a highly sophisticated jurisprudence speciﬁc to homicide, dealing with questions e.g. of intent. But we know so little of what went on at the prodikasiai that there is a danger of circular argument here. Formally speaking, the allocation of the present case to the Delphinion will have been made by the Basileus, but Loomis (1972: 87 n. 11) plausibly suggests that the defendant’s plea will have made this automatic. I am not convinced by the suggestion of Boegehold (1995: 49) that by rejecting the defence claim, the accuser could force the trial to be transferred to the Areiopagos, which would seem to conﬂict with the wording of Dem. 23.74 (quoted above).

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ﬁfty-one in number.13 The meaning of the word ephetai is obscure, though it is possible that they were selected from members of the Areiopagos.14 Earlier scholars generally assumed that ephetai had by the end of the ﬁfth century been replaced by dikastai convened in the same way as a standard Athenian law court, but over recent decades the view that ephetai continued to judge cases at least in the Delphinion, Palladion and Phreatto has won widespread though not universal acceptance.15 The issue is important because it raises questions of expertise: if a large range of homicide cases was heard by a relatively small body of ephetai, sitting repeatedly, that might affect their attitude to some of the juridical arguments put forward by Euphiletos (see e.g. §33n). If Euphiletos wins the hearing, he will go free. Some scholars have suggested that if his plea is rejected, his case will be referred back to the Areiopagos for trial (thus e.g. Loomis 1972: 87 n. 11), but it is difﬁcult to see what room there would be for further argument given his admission that he had killed and that this was intentional, and it seems easier to read his closing remarks as meaning that if the court ﬁnds against him, he will automatically stand convicted of deliberate homicide (for the penalty faced, see §50n). As in the majority of Athenian forensic speeches, however, we know nothing about the case other than what can be deduced from the text: we do not have the opponents’ speech, and we do not know the result.

II. MOIKHEIA AND ADULTERY Lysias’ forensic strategy, as has been noted (p. 44 with n. 5 above), is to represent the dead man as himself on trial for moikheia, but the meaning of this term is by no means uncontested. Moikheia and its cognate moikhos are conventionally translated ‘adultery’ and ‘adulterer’ respectively (a convention that has for 13

The mainly lexicographical testimonia for the ephetai are collected and analysed by MacDowell (1963: 48–57) and by Boegehold (1995: 125–126, with further material at 135–150); there is a succinct discussion in Rhodes (1981: 647–648). The ﬁgure ﬁfty-one is convincingly restored in the Drakon inscription (IG 13, 104.17, 19) on the basis of a document quoted at Dem. 43.57, though its context is non-deliberate rather than justiﬁable homicide. 14 Rhodes (1981: 647) reviews the arguments, with refs. to previous scholarship. Membership of the Areiopagos was for life, and on this basis its size has been estimated by Hansen & Pedersen (1990: 75, with p. 78) at between 145 and 175. Wallace (1989: 96–97) proposes ‘somewhat more than 200’, but uses a less nuanced demographic model. 15 The fullest statement of the dikastic view is by G. Smith (1924); for similar conclusions, see e.g. Lipsius (1905–15: 130), Albini (1952b: p. v), Fernández-Galiano (1953: 5), and Bizos (1967: 17). This, however, was strongly challenged by MacDowell (1963: 48–57), whose ephetic arguments are accepted by Harrison (1968–71.ii: 40–42) and Rhodes (1981: 647–648), tentatively by Wöhrle (1995: 103) and Manthe (2000: 220), and supported with detailed analysis of Lys. 1 by Carawan (1998: 154–167). The case for dikastai has been restated by Wallace (1989: 102–105), but to my mind he puts too much emphasis on the mention of seven hundred jurors in a case heard apparently by the Palladion at Isok. 18.54: this may be the wrong number for ephetai, but it does not make any better sense as a number for a dikastic trial.

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convenience been followed in my own translation), but scholars have traditionally perceived this correspondence of terms as inexact,16 at least by the Classical period,17 arguing that moikheia in the Orators denotes unlawful sexual relations with any respectable citizen woman,18 irrespective of her marital status. This broad reading of moikheia—corresponding perhaps to ‘seduction’ rather than ‘adultery’—has frequently been supported by reference or allusion to Demosthenes’ phrasing of the law on justiﬁable homicide to include ‘wife, mother, sister, daughter, or concubine kept for the purpose of free children’.19 Indeed, the most far-reaching statement of this traditional interpretation by a major legal scholar (Paoli 1950 = 1976: 251–307) argued not only that moikhos and its cognates are used in our sources in contexts where the woman concerned is unmarried (cf. below), but more signiﬁcantly that moikheia was in essence an offence not against matrimony but against the oikos or household (1950: 139 = 1976: 266), and that the source of the power summarily to kill the offender lay in the survival of a primitive jurisdiction held by the householder over certain offences committed within the boundaries of his oikos (1950: 144 = 1976: 270). D. Cohen, in a series of publications, has sought to re-interpret moikheia as an offence speciﬁcally against marriage, like adultery in the modern or perhaps more accurately the Roman sense.20 In addition to comparative arguments,21 he emphasises that Demosthenes’ statement of the law on justiﬁable homicide nowhere uses the term moikhos (1984: 151 and 1991a: 105, cf. p. 44 n. 6 above); that only one of Paoli’s cases of non-marital moikheia is based on secure Greek evidence, and this a very odd case which in his view should not be taken at face value;22 and that the text of a law which is included in the manuscript of Dem. 59.87 with the heading Nomos Moikheias (‘the—or possibly “a”—law of 16 Lipsius (1905–15: 429), followed by e.g. Harrison (next footnote). Perhaps to emphasise the point, MacDowell (1978: 124–125) uses the term ‘seducer’ (cf. below), though he indexes it s.v. ‘adultery’. 17 Harrison (1968–71.i: 36), following a hint in Lipsius (previous footnote), suggests that the term may originally have been restricted to sex with a married woman. 18 Prostitutes may have been a statutory exception, cf. Lys. 10.19n. 19 Thus e.g. Dover (1974: 209). The context of Demosthenes’ discussion is an extended survey of Athenian homicide law; for the text, see §30n. H. J. Wolff (1952.i: 23 = 1968: 642), as noted by D. Cohen (1984: 149 n. 6), even refers to this as ‘Drakon’s adultery law (Ehebruchsgesetz)’, though elsewhere H. J. Wolff (1944: 73) speaks instead of ‘Draco’s famous provision for justiﬁable homicide’. 20 In Roman law, it is adulterium if a man has sex with a married woman: his own marital status is not legally relevant. 21 D. Cohen (1984: 149, cf. 1991a: 102) suggests ‘as a cautionary note rather than an objection’ that it would be hard to ﬁnd a parallel for a society to have legislated on illegitimate sexual intercourse in terms which do not take account of the woman’s marital status, not least because the interests of the father in maintaining his daughter’s qualiﬁcation for marriage will have differed from the husband’s interest in the paternity of his children. 22 D. Cohen (1984: 154 n. 15, cf. 1991a: 109 n. 32), on Stephanos’ arrest of Epainetos for moikheia with Phano (the formerly-but-no-longer-married daughter allegedly of Neaira) at Dem. 59.64–70, for which cf. next paragraph. (Paoli’s use of examples taken from Roman New Comedy is no longer regarded by scholars as reliable evidence for Athenian law.)

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moikheia’) speciﬁes not only that a woman who has been caught with a moikhos must suffer penalties comparable to male atimia (loss of civic rights),23 but also that a man who catches a moikhos is not permitted to continue living with his wife and will suffer atimia if he fails to divorce her. The laws quoted in the manuscripts of some of our speeches (mainly those of Demosthenes) are not always authentic, but this one has the support of most scholars:24 its signiﬁcance for present purposes rests in the underlying assumption of the compulsory divorce clause that the person with whom moikheia is committed will be a married woman and that the person who takes action against the moikhos will be her husband.25 Reactions to these arguments have tended to focus on the question of whether moikheia could be committed with a non-married woman, and on the speciﬁc case of Epainetos and Phano.26 This is probably the weakest part of Cohen’s case: it is possible to argue e.g. that in order to trap Epainetos as a moikhos, Stephanos will have had to present the formerly married Phano as if she were still married, but this has a ﬂavour of special pleading (thus Carey 1995b: 408 with n. 3). But Cohen has I think succeeded in demonstrating, particularly from the compulsory divorce rule of Dem. 59.87, that Athenians (and even Athenian legislators) seem to have regarded marriage as the normal context of moikheia. This certainly is valuable background to Lysias’ argument at 1.32–33 (to which we shall turn in the next paragraph) that one of the things that makes moikheia more serious than rape is the risk that it will introduce an illegitimate child into the blood-line. And although Paoli’s alternative view that moikheia constitutes an offence against the household is still widely cited, nobody to my knowledge accepts his suggestion that the summary killing of a moikhos reﬂects the survival of any primitive 23 Speciﬁcally a life-long ban on entering religious sanctuaries. Aiskhin. 1.183 conﬁrms this, and adds a ban also on the wearing of jewellery. 24 Primarily on the grounds that only part of its contents could be inferred from the surrounding text (Dem. 59.85–86 mentions the ban on sanctuaries [cf. previous footnote], but not compulsory divorce): thus e.g. Carey (1992: 129) and Kapparis (1999: 354). There is no hint in our speech of a law penalising Euphiletos’ wife in this way or requiring him to divorce her: it is possible that such a law was passed in the half-century which divides Lys. 1 and Dem. 59 (Fernandes 1999: 106 n. 74 ﬁnds a possible reference to this putative law in Lys. 14.28, which would conﬁrm its existence as early as 395, but the allusion is not conclusive), but Euphiletos’ failure to mention it may simply constitute deliberate suppression of evidence, as part of his strategy to portray his wife more as fellow-victim than as conspirator (see p. 53 below). 25 It is perhaps worth noting that in law, moikheia is an offence committed by a male moikhos. There is no obvious feminine noun to denote an adulteress (moikhas in Aiskh.Sok., frag. 20 Dittmar, and moikheutria in Plato, Symp. 191e1, are both found only once in Classical sources): a woman with whom moikheia has been committed is usually described by a passive feminine participle (‘she who has been adulterated’), as at Dem. 59.110, or Aristoph. Peace, 980. However, the fact that the penalties imposed on the woman are non-capital and extra-judicial (Dem. 59.85–87, discussed above) should not blind us to their seriousness. 26 For which see p. 47 n. 22 above. In addition to Carey (cited below), Patterson (1998: 114–116) explores the assumptions underlying Cohen’s thesis, and argues (1998: 122) that the etymology and usage of the word moikhos suggest that it is a more vulgar term of abuse than might be implied by Cohen’s model of competitive honour.

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jurisdiction vested in the householder, nor that illegitimate sex was only moikheia if committed within the physical boundaries of the oikos.27 A related area of socio-legal controversy concerns the claim at 1.32–33 that moikheia is a more serious offence than rape. The weakness of Lysias’ argument here has been analysed in detail by E. M. Harris (1990), who notes in particular the reliance on selective quotation, used both to disguise the fact that Athenian law apparently offered a range of remedies and procedures for each offence, and consequently to suppress the existence of less serious penalties for the former and more serious ones for the latter (details at §32n). It is more difﬁcult to determine how such sophistries will have been received by the audience—which may have had greater experience in hearing legal disputes than that of an ordinary dikastic court, cf. p. 46 above—but several scholars have found parallel sentiments expressed in non-forensic sources:28 the plausibility of the argument will of course have seemed greater, as noted in the previous paragraph, if Athenians did regard moikheia as being primarily an offence committed with a married woman.

III. NARRATIVE AND CHARACTERISATION On ﬁrst reading, Euphiletos’ case appears so good that it is hard to see what the fuss is about. The justiﬁable homicide law cited at §30 would seem to protect him from any charge of murder in killing his wife’s lover, and although there is dispute over the identity of the ﬁrst law that he cites (see §28n), it may well have granted him the right explicitly to do this. It seems an open-and-shut affair. Only one thing may give us pause for thought. If Euphiletos’ case is as good as he makes it sound, then why have Eratosthenes’ relatives pressed charges? We might suggest that for religious reasons they felt obliged to bring at least a token prosecution;29 but if so, why has Euphiletos gone to the expense of commissioning a speech of this quality from the leading logographos in Athens?30 27 Carey (1995b: 416 n. 31) rightly notes that there is no supporting evidence for Paoli’s claim about location. Indeed, Aristophanes provides two strong counter-examples: a putative married woman envisages going outside the house to meet a man described as a moikhos (Aristoph. Thesmo. 488); and lest it be claimed that this might denote a meeting in the courtyard (in which case its ‘jurisdictional’ status in Paoli’s theory might still be that of the oikos), Blepyros is in the courtyard already when he meets Praxagora his wife returning from outside (i.e. from the street), and she immediately defends herself against the charge of having been with a moikhos (Aristoph. Ekkles. 522). 28 See the discussion of Brown (1991) and Carey (1995b) at §33n. 29 It would be an exaggeration to say that a dead man’s relatives were obliged to prosecute (cf. p. 44 n. 4 above), but for them knowingly to maintain friendly relations with the killer was certainly regarded as improper (Ant. 6.39–40) and could even lead to prosecution for impiety (Dem. 22.2). 30 Chris Carey has suggested to me that the social stigma attached to an adulterer (which he infers from the unanimous condemnation of moikheia in all our sources except comedy) may have made prosecution a matter of family honour, but on this hypothesis it would seem counter-productive to take the matter to court unless—for which cf. below—they could plausibly deny the allegation of adultery.

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The arguments available to the prosecution can to some extent be reconstructed from Euphiletos’ speech, though it is not always easy to distinguish the seriousness with which they pressed or were expected to press particular charges: see in particular §37n (entrapment), with §27n (force) and §43n (prior enmity). Scholars sometimes speak as if one or more such charges will have represented statutory restrictions on the right of summary killing, and have suggested for instance that entrapment may have been forbidden by law (as it was at Gortyn, cf. §37n, but there is no evidence for such a rule at Athens), or even that there may have been restrictions against particular methods of killing (inferred on the basis of Dem. 59.66, but the context of that passage is very different, cf. §49n). It is therefore probably best to look at the matter in less formal terms, and to suggest that Euphiletos risks being convicted not if the court decides that he has breached some statutory restriction, but rather if they conclude that he has exercised his rights unreasonably. In this context, his primary problem would seem to be something that can be inferred not from the speech itself but from parallel evidence, or rather from its absence. The law may have granted Euphiletos the right summarily to kill his wife’s lover, but there is no case outside Lysias in which this possibility is seriously envisaged.31 In other sources we hear sometimes of the moikhos risking exposure to humiliating physical penalties at the hands of the outraged husband;32 but it seems to have been more typical to settle the matter by the offer of ﬁnancial compensation, which is indeed what Euphiletos claims that Eratosthenes had offered but he had rejected (see §25n).33 It is therefore essential for Lysias, in constructing Euphiletos’ defence, to represent the killing of Eratosthenes as a normal or even obligatory response to his adultery, rather than an unusual one. This he achieves in two ways, partly by characterisation and partly by narrative (though the two are in many ways linked, 31 There are two other possible examples in the fragments of Lysias, viz. On the Killing of Akhilleides (cf. the description of the speaker’s sister’s suicide at Lys. frag. 62), and Defence against Philon concerning the Killing of Theokleides (cf. the reference to ‘the room behind the gunaiko¯nitis [women’s quarters]’ at Lys. frag. 298, though as Carey notes this might relate to the killing of a night-time thief: cf. Dem. 24.113, discussed at §28n). If these are killings of adulterers, it is notable that they occur so near in time to that of Eratosthenes, which might raise suspicions that the pretext of adultery is being used to settle old scores from the time of the Thirty (see Todd 1985: 131 n. 51). Lys. 13.68 claims that Agoratos was ‘caught (λφθη) as a moikhos, for which death is the penalty,’ which may suggest that Eratosthenes’ case was still fresh in the speaker’s mind: the verb used could refer either to judicial conviction or to extra-judicial punishment; but given that Agoratos is still alive, we can infer that there has been some form of out-of-court deal, if indeed there is any truth in the allegation. 32 Including most famously the talionic insertion of a radish: this is mentioned only at Aristoph. Clouds, 1083, and D. Cohen (1985) has suggested that it may simply be preparation for the string of jokes about eurupro¯ktoi (lit. those suffering from anal dilatation). See, however, Roy (1991) and Carey (1993), though Kapparis (1996: 67–70) offers some practical reservations against Roy’s comments on spiny ﬁsh. 33 Motives for a husband to accept such an offer will presumably have included the desire to avoid being publicly branded as a cuckold, and if he had children, to avoid calling their paternity into question (cf. §6n); he may also have wanted to avoid compulsory divorce (on which see p. 48 with n. 24 above).

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because the former is constructed through narrative rather than through character-sketch). As far as characterisation is concerned, a major part of the defence strategy is to present Euphiletos as a naïve and straightforward person, incapable of the type of plotting that would constitute entrapment. He is the sort of person who might all too easily notice but fail to see the signiﬁcance of his wife’s make-up, or fail to pursue his puzzlement at the fact that both doors made a noise during the night (both at §14): he is very slow on the uptake, but this is made sustainable by the way in which Euphiletos the story-teller joins us in telling the story at the expense of Euphiletos the protagonist.34 Other elements in the characterisation of Euphiletos that have been more controversially identiﬁed by scholars include gaucheness and anger.35 The ﬁrst of these characteristics has been detected in Euphiletos’ ﬁnal confrontation with Eratosthenes, and especially in the unanswerable question about why Eratosthenes has dishonoured him, both of which are held to portray a certain gaucheness (§25n); it has also been suggested that anger is what makes it inconceivable that he would stop short of killing Eratosthenes.36 But this is surely to misread Lysias’ strategy by turning it into a crime of passion. If that were the case, we would expect the climax of the narrative to be recounted in terms either of a ﬁght in the bedroom in which Eratosthenes had been killed while trying to resist capture, or else with a statement that ‘when I saw him in my bed with my wife, anger ﬂowed over me and I lost control’, which is by no means how it is related (see §27n).37 Similarly with the unanswerable question to Eratosthenes,

34 For the complexity of narrative viewpoint, with events being presented both as Euphiletos claims he saw them but interspersed with explanatory comments from Euphiletos the subsequent narrator, see the introductory note to the narrative at §§6–28n. 35 Both characteristics are asserted by Usher (1965), in an important paper which argues persuasively against the tendency of earlier scholars, following the lead of the ancient rhetorical theorists, to view characterisation in the Orators in terms of the construction of stock characters or favourable character-types. (Devries 1892: 29–34, for instance, discusses the characterisation of Euphiletos under the heading ‘the simple man’, while Motschmann 1905: 40 depicts him as the cheated husband of comedy.) In Usher’s view, Lysias was unusual in seeking to portray many of his clients particularly in the defence speeches as individuals, often with venial ﬂaws of the type that make them believable and sympathetic: this is an attractive thesis, which may help explain for instance Euphiletos’ acknowledgement of his previous sexual history (§12). 36 Usher 1965: 101–105, reiterated at Edwards & Usher 1985: 221, and with supporting arguments at Usher 1999: 56–57. Herman’s attack (1993) on D. Cohen’s model of Athens as a feuding society, by contrast, to my mind goes too far in arguing for a ‘civic’ as opposed to a ‘tribal’ code of behaviour: although Athens was certainly a society in which private citizens did not normally carry weapons in the streets (as noted at Thuc. 1.6.1–3: hence the signiﬁcance of Euphiletos’ implied admission at §42n, and contrast the world of Romeo & Juliet, with its immediate recourse to violent duels), Herman underplays the fact that in a highly personalised system of adversarial justice, the decision to initiate legal action is itself an act of hostility, even if the litigant sometimes chooses to represent it in more emollient terms. For a more detailed critique of Herman’s reading of this speech, see Fisher (1998: 78–80). 37 Of the evidence that Usher cites to support his view, I would agree that the aside at §10n strikes a note of bitterness, and the syntax of his recollection at §17n certainly indicates emotional tension, but neither passage seems to me sufﬁciently impulsive to justify a crime of passion, while an occasional

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which I would read not as an attempt at characterisation but as serving a narrative function, designed to represent Euphiletos’ action in killing Eratosthenes as if it were a judicial punishment, with Euphiletos himself playing the part of the relevant public ofﬁcial.38 This would help to explain one of the most striking oddities of the speech, which is that there is no narrative of the killing itself, since the Athenian Orators seem to have been deeply reluctant to describe the execution of citizens (see §27n). Indeed, by representing the trial from the outset as a prosecution not of himself for homicide but of the dead Eratosthenes for adultery (§1n), Euphiletos is able to present the laws as Eratosthenes’ prosecutor and himself as their agent (§26n). In general, the narrative of this speech is characterised by an almost complete absence of rhetorical ﬁgures (far fewer than in the proem or the peroration, cf. §§1–5n), but by the presence of considerable repetition. The former certainly plays some rôle in characterisation, helping to sustain the impression of Euphiletos’ naïvety. The latter too has sometimes been interpreted as a tool of characterisation (e.g. Büchler 1936: 67, who saw reuse of words as typical of a ‘simple man’). To my mind, however, this explanation pays insufﬁcient attention to the degree of verbal variation in which repetition is cast, and its use to control the speed of the narrative (e.g. §11n and §17n); and also to the way in which deferred repetition allows information to be presented in the narrative as incidental detail to provide credibility, only to reappear in the proof as key elements of the defence against entrapment (e.g. §39n, and see in more detail §37n).39 The other male characters receive far less attention than does the characterisation of Euphiletos himself. His friends Sostratos (§22, §39) and Harmodios (§41) are no more than names. Eratosthenes is simply a villain; his sole individuality consists in the range of his previous adulteries, which are neatly implied rather than spelt out (§16n). No motive is assigned to his behaviour; this again is an effective touch, because it tends to assimilate his adultery even more closely to hubris, an offence regarded as typical of rich young men (see §37n): it is characteristic of hubris that it is committed not in response to injury but to indulge the arrogant will of the criminal. But there is no character assassination attacking Eratosthenes’ record as a citizen, nor indeed that of the prosecution. This is unusual within Lysias’ forensic speeches (see Voegelin 1943), but in this case there may be political reasons (see pp. 59–60 below). Women, by contrast, are often ﬁnely portrayed in Lysias. Here this is achieved particularly through the use of direct speech, as placed in the mouths both of

sharpness in the tone adopted towards the maid at §18n and towards his wife at §12n may reﬂect no more than a desire to be seen showing his dependants who is master. Anger is perceived also by Trenkner (1958: 156) and Edwards (1999: 58–59), but rejected by Carey (1989: 62) and by Vianello de Córdova (1990a [1980]: p. lxvii). 38 For the parallel with apago¯ge¯, in which malefactors who admit their guilt are summarily executed by the Eleven, see §21n and §28n. 39 For the narrative (and in particular the relationship between Euphiletos as narrator and Euphiletos as participant), see further the introductory note at §§6–28.

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Euphiletos’ wife (§12n, with wider discussion of the phenomenon) and of the elderly woman, probably a slave, who informs him of his wife’s affair (§16). For the latter, this is her sole appearance, but sufﬁcient to portray her as nervous but rather garrulous; her unnamed mistress, by contrast, remains very much in the shadows. Euphiletos’ own maid, on the other hand, is restricted to indirect speech (§§18–21), and despite her repeated appearance throughout the narrative (§8, §11, §16, §23), she comes across very much as the agent initially of her mistress (at §11) and then of Euphiletos himself (at §23), rather than as a personality in her own right. Much more subtle is the portrait of Euphiletos’ wife: the initial testimonials that he gives her are admittedly somewhat conventional (§7, §9), but she plays a dominant rôle in the ﬁrst half of the narrative, particularly on the night of the successful adultery at §§11–14, where the speed and poise of her responses leave her husband completely wrong-footed. How far she is being held responsible for the affair is a complex question. Fernandes (1999: 112) rightly emphasises that she is introduced to us at §8 as the subject of passive verbs (‘was seen’, ‘was ruined’),40 but by §§11–14 is the subject of actions (lying, make-up, etc.) that are ‘startlingly different from his earlier representation of her as the model wife’, and by §20 is reported to be acting in complicity with her lover’s mother. After this, however, she fades out of the action, despite the sight of Eratosthenes in bed with her at §24; at no point does Euphiletos confront her with the affair, nor blame her for it. The effect is of course to focus the blame on Eratosthenes, just as if he had indeed been the defendant (refs. at §1n), with the result that our overall impression of her is as Euphiletos’ fellow-victim (refs. at §16n) rather than as Eratosthenes’ fellow-conspirator. As has already been observed (p. 48 n. 25 above), not only is moikhos a distinctively masculine term, but so too it is only a man who can be tried for such an offence: there are continuing social and religious penalties on the woman, in addition to the requirement of divorce, but these will be imposed without her being put on trial. Johnstone (1999: 46–49, with reference to this speech at pp. 52–53) has observed that Athenian trials are typically structured in such a way that the judicial narrative tends to be about men. Whether it would have been feasible for the story here to have been told in any other way is uncertain: some scholars have suggested that citizen women could appear as witnesses in homicide trials (e.g. Bonner 1906), but the evidence for this is at most inconclusive (MacDowell 1963: 102–109), and certainly there is no clear case where it was done.41 Another 40 It is perhaps worth noting that Greek verbs describing (hetero)sexual activity tend to be used in the active of males and in the middle or passive of females (γαµ ω/γαµο'µαι, µοιχε$ω/µοιχε$οµαι, βιν ω/βινο'µαι, etc.). 41 For the argument that citizen women were in general absent from the law courts, see in detail Goldhill (1994: 357–360), and cf. also p. 45 n. 11 above. Loucks (1994: 112–122, with quotation at p. 119) suggests that Euphiletos’ wife was ‘the star witness for the prosecution’ and that the aim of the speech is to discredit her testimony: leaving aside the juridical implausibility of this hypothesis, it relies also on what is in my view (cf. previous paragraph) the false assumption that Lysias’ treatment of her is simple character-assassination.

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striking aspect of the same phenomenon, however, is the failure to discuss the evidence that could have been provided under torture either by the old woman or particularly by Euphiletos’ own maid, for which various explanations have been put forward. Perhaps the most attractive hypothesis, at least in the maid’s case, is that of Gagarin (1996: 9), who notes that we ﬁnd in the Orators nearly forty challenges to torture proposed by the speaker himself but only four attempts to rebut an opponent’s challenge, and suggests on this basis that a challenge was indeed issued by the prosecution but that Lysias chose not to respond to it.42

IV. LYS. 1 AS SOCIAL DOCUMENT More perhaps than any other speech in the corpus, Lys. 1 provides important evidence for a range of topics in Athenian social history, though its interpretation is not always uncomplicated. In the area of domestic arrangements, for instance, some features of the narrative correspond closely with the material record, but others do not. As an example of close correspondence, one of the most striking features noted by Jameson is that unlike a modern front garden, which performs a transitional function between house and street because of its visibility to the passer-by, the courtyard of an ancient Greek house is ‘entirely interior’ (Jameson 1990a: 97). In addition, the archaeological record suggests a pattern at least in Athens itself for houses typically to have only one external entrance from courtyard to street.43 Both these features serve to explain the signiﬁcance of Euphiletos’ having heard two doors in the night, and his inference that somebody has gone out into the street (see §17n).44 There are however other ways in which the material evidence for Athenian housing differs substantially from its literary representations. Take for instance

42

Previous suggestions include that of Dover (1968: 188), who argued that the maid’s evidence did ﬁgure in the trial but has been suppressed from the published version, but Carey (1989: 63 n. 11) rightly objects that it is hard to see why this should have been done. Feraboli (1980: 46) believed that the opponents chose not to challenge because they believed she would conﬁrm that Eratosthenes was an adulterer, but if so we might have expected Euphiletos to use this against them, possibly by issuing a challenge himself. The suggestion that Euphiletos’ promise to the maid that she will suffer no harm if she tells the truth (§19) is being paraded to forestall a challenge is noted again by Carey (1989: 63), but he rightly points out that we would expect the issue to be addressed more directly, though it is of course possible that the plan was to deal with this matter in Euphiletos’ second speech. (Gagarin’s explanation works less well in the case of the old woman, but see §15n.) 43 To have more than one such entrance may have been more common in rural demes (Nevett 2005: 85, discussing primarily Thorikos). Certainly Lys. 12.15 seems to regard the two external doors of Damnippos’ house (which in context must be either in Athens or possibly Peiraieus) as a detail sufﬁciently unusual to require explanation. 44 Other areas of domestic life for which there is material evidence which can be compared with the speech include babyhood (feeding and toilet-training, §9n) and marital sleeping arrangements (§10n). The evidence of the speech for settlement patterns is discussed at pp. 57–58 with n. 53 and n. 55 below.

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the rôle of the hearth, which is presented in this speech and in other literary sources as the centre of the house and as a context of religious supplication, but which is strikingly absent from the archaeological record, suggesting that its rôle in this regard is as much conceptual as physical (§27n). Similarly, the consensus of recent scholarship is that literary references to the gunaiko¯nitis (‘women’s rooms’) are more to a symbolic than to a physically demarcated space (§9n), which may itself have relevance to the question of how Euphiletos gets locked in overnight (§13n). Also valuable is the evidence for codes of social behaviour. Lys. 1 is indeed one of the two most informative speeches for the rôle and treatment of women in Athenian society, the other being Apollodoros’ speech Against Neaira (Dem. 59). To some extent, these two speeches complement each other, but their special value lies in the difference of their perspective. Whereas Dem. 59 shows us life on the putatively scandalous boundaries of the citizen ideal, the value of Lys. 1 lies in its predictable normality. In this context it is worth emphasising particularly the contrast between the things which Euphiletos mentions without feeling the need for explanation, and those which he seeks to justify. In the former category, for instance, we may infer that it is socially acceptable for his wife to be seen at a funeral and therefore normal to require a go-between in negotiations with her lover (see §8n π’ κφορα´ν and §8n τDν θερα´παιναν),45 while the scene with the locks at §§12–13 presupposes the normality of certain sexual expectations (not simply Euphiletos’ relations with the slave-girl, but also the apparent assumption that the wife is expected to remain and presumably to sleep with her husband unless there is reason not to). A rather different interpretative move, on the other hand, can be made from those things that Euphiletos feels the need to justify: for instance, the defensiveness with which he explains his initial switch from caution to trust in his wife may suggest that both positions will have appeared to the audience as slightly excessive (§§6–8), whereas the change of sleeping quarters following the baby’s birth is explained in such detail as to suggest that this will have seemed rather unusual (§9).

V. REPUTATION, DELIVERY, AND POLITICAL PROSOPOGRAPHY As is noted at p. 20 above, the ﬁrst two speeches of Lysias are located at the front of the Palatinus manuscript, followed immediately by ﬁve speeches attributed to other orators, and only then by the bulk of the corpus. This separation suggests 45 D. Cohen (1991a: 133–170, with some overlap from his earlier papers [1989] and [1990]) rightly emphasises that the language of female seclusion in our sources may represent a potentially negotiable social code rather than a social reality. We may notice Euphiletos’ care to emphasise that it is he or the maid who does the shopping, and never his wife (§8, §16, §18). But his wife not only attends a funeral (§8) and a religious festival (§20), but has developed a sufﬁcient social network for the latter to be undertaken in the company of her lover’s mother.

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that the two sets of Lysianic speeches may have been copied from different sources. Dover (1968: 2) ﬁnds surprising the precedence implicitly given to Lys. 1 in the construction of the manuscript,46 describing it as a ‘lively and interesting, but not exceptional’ speech; his suggestion, that a scribe mistaking the two titles copied it here by mistake for Lys. 12 Against Eratosthenes, is reported apparently with approval by Sosower (1987: 9). Other critics, however, have rated the speech more highly—Wilamowitz (1923: 57), for instance, regarded it as Lysias’ ﬁnest— and it seems to have had a high reputation also in antiquity, judging from frequent signs of linguistic or thematic imitation by later writers,47 and more speciﬁcally from the verdicts of two ancient rhetorical theorists who discuss the speech. One of these is John of Sicily, a Byzantine commentator on the second-century ad rhetorician Hermogenes’ treatise On Types of Style (Peri Ideo¯n), who cited this as one of two speeches which in his view best demonstrated Hermogenes’ proposition that there is a type of forcefulness (deinote¯s) which exists without making itself obvious.48 The second verdict comes from Demetrios, who cites the description of the house on two ﬂoors at §9 as the classic example in the Orators of what he terms the plain style: what is interesting about this is that he attributes it simply to Lysias without giving the title of the speech, as if he assumes that his readers will know its location already.49 Lys. 1 is among the few speeches of which the authorship seems never to have been seriously questioned, even in the nineteenth century (Darkow 1917: 10 n. 15). There have however been some doubts as to how far our text represents a speech that was genuinely delivered. The suggestion of Wilamowitz, that the rebuttal of entrapment at §§37–46 constitutes a post-trial addition to the speech, is discussed at §37n. More wide-ranging, however, is the theory put forward by two recent scholars, that what we have is not a law-court speech at all, but rather 46 Less surprising in the case of Lys. 2, since this (like the ﬁve intervening speeches) is of a type commonly found in mediaeval anthologies. 47 Albini (1960) ﬁnds linguistic imitation of particular phrases in Choricius of Gaza (cf. §7n), and Bartolini (1971) similarly identiﬁes imitation of §17 κα πα´ντα µου ε τDν γν=µην εσOει in Libanios, Declam. 6.2.21. Broader imitation by Rutilius Lupus of a particular passage (cf. §11n) is suggested by Barabino (1967: 98–100). Trenkner (1958: 155–160) suggests that the speech had a general inﬂuence on the themes of later prose ﬁction, but does not discuss detailed examples; inﬂuence speciﬁcally on the narrative structure of Khariton, Khaireas and Kallirhoe, 1.4.1–1.6.1, is suggested by Kapparis (2000), but doubted by Porter (2003b) on the grounds that these are generic topoi; inﬂuence on the narrative structure of Nikolaos of Damascus’ account of Gyges’ rise to power is identiﬁed by Porter (2003a). 48 The other speech cited by John of Sicily Scholia en Hermogenes’ Peri Ideo¯n, VI, p. 458.16–20 Walz, appears in the manuscript as κατ2 2Αριστογετονο κακ8 πιτροπ8 (Prosecution of Aristogeiton for Corrupt Guardianship). Carey (2007: 332–333) suggests that ‘Aristogeiton’ might be an error for ‘Diogeiton’ (i.e. Lys. 32), which Dionysios of Halikarnassos selected as his model among Lysias’ private speeches. 49 Demetrios, On Style, 190: οQον τ παρα` ΛυσS, ‘οκδι*ν στ µοι διπλο'ν, 1σα -χον τα` α%νω το; κα´τω.’ The testimonia to Lys. 1 are extensive, providing further evidence that the speech was widely read: leaving aside the two rhetorical theorists cited here and the various suggested imitations noted at n. 47 above, Carey’s OCT list of testimonia includes six words or phrases glossed by lexicographers. (Three of these are discussed with reference to particular passages at §9n, §16n, and §17n.)

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some form of rhetorical exercise composed by Lysias either for the instruction of pupils (Perotti 1989–90) or to advertise his forensic skill and attract clients (Porter 1997). Both these scholars draw attention to the etymology of the two protagonists’ names, which they suggest are ironically symbolic of function: Euphiletos the ‘beloved’ husband, and Eratosthenes the adulterer ‘vigorous in love’.50 But to my mind the critical weakness of this type of explanation and therefore this theory is the mention of Eratosthenes’ deme as Oe (§16). To grasp the signiﬁcance of this,51 it is necessary in more detail to look at the prosopography and social setting of both protagonists. Euphiletos, as we saw at the start of this introduction, is otherwise unknown to us. We do however get some sense from the narrative of his social and economic position. The repeated references to time spent in ‘the countryside’ either by himself (§11, §13, §20) or by his friend Sostratos (§22, §39) suggest that they are by occupation farmers.52 But on each occasion the countryside is somewhere from which they return home; and at home there are neighbours (§14), including shops of some description (see §24n), and the maid can conveniently go shopping in the Agora (§8, etc.). The most likely interpretation is that Euphiletos lives in Athens itself, though this is not in my view absolutely conclusive.53 Depending on the distance from his home to his land, he may sometimes at peak agricultural seasons need to stay away overnight (cf. his absence at §20 apparently throughout the festival of the Thesmophoria),54 50 Since most Greek names can be analysed etymologically, this tendency can easily be pushed to excess (as in Buermann’s interpretation of Menophilos in Lys. 8, for which see p. 551 n. 41 below). In the present speech, for instance, Perotti interprets Euphiletos’ friend Sostratos as another signiﬁcant name (‘saviour of the army’, 1989–90: 45), and sees the events of the case more broadly as a metaphor for public political life under the Thirty, with Euphiletos himself symbolising the democracy and his wife the polis (1989–90: 47). These aspects of the argument are not followed by Porter. 51 For which see further p. 59 n. 59 below. 52 The term ‘farm labourer’ (used by Usher, in Edwards & Usher 1985: 220, and by Edwards 1999: 56) is best avoided, since this would imply what is nowhere speciﬁed, that he is being hired to work somebody else’s land. 53 Translation of terms like ‘polis’ can be prejudicial, since several of Euphiletos’ phrases could apply equally well either to any resident in Attica (see §10n) or at least to those living in a large demevillage (§23n). The repeated allusions to ‘the countryside’ (agros: refs. as above) are more suggestive, however, since in the Orators this is used as an oppositional term mainly in contrast with Athens itself (e.g. Lys. 20.11; 31.8; Dem. 55.17; 58.64–65), or failing that in contrast with Peiraieus (Dem. 47.62). The implications of Euphiletos’ claim not to have had any previous dealings with Eratosthenes are discussed at §20n. 54 The extent to which staying overnight will have been feasible and worthwhile will depend on distance from his home (unknowable), length of day, and (if sleeping in informal accommodation of the type hypothesised here) weather conditions. The Thesmophoria took place in the second week of Pyanopsion, the month which roughly corresponds to October/November, though the use of a lunar calendar means that there will have been a year-on-year variation of several weeks, even without allowing for intercalation. Weather records for Athens itself over the past thirty years (data gleaned from a variety of websites) suggest an average night-time minimum temperature of 63°F and 11 hours 48 minutes daylight on 1 October, falling to 56°F and 10 hours 27 minutes on 1 November, and 50°F and 10 hours 04 minutes on 1 December, with an average of eight wet days in October and twelve in November.

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but that might not imply any more than a shack or store-room in the ﬁelds.55 Perhaps more interesting is the question of Euphiletos’ wealth. For reasons set out at §18n and at §42n, there is to my mind no reason to follow those scholars who see him as the owner either of a mill or of a set of farm-slaves separate from his domestic holding. The scale of his domestic slave-holding, however, has been variously interpreted, depending partly on how we interpret the recurrent phrase about the maid (therapaina) who goes shopping,56 but primarily on how we read the relationship between the paidiske¯ (‘slave-girl’) who is the object of his sexual attentions at §12, and the therapaina who is downstairs teasing the baby at §11. Scholars have sometimes seen these as different people: Carey (1989: 70), for instance, glosses the former with the words ‘clearly not the therapaina of §8 and §11, who is downstairs at this time’, presumably on the basis that Euphiletos’ wife is envisaging sexual activity ‘here’ (i.e. upstairs) between paidiske¯ and husband. But the wife’s action in locking the door immediately afterwards is meaningful only if the paidiske¯ is not in fact present in the room with Euphiletos, since her aim is to keep them apart; and on that basis it is surely easier to infer that she and the therapaina are the same person—not least given the connotations of sexual availability which the term paidiske¯ appears to carry in the Orators (see §12n), which would sharpen the point of Euphiletos’ wife’s comment here. It is important not to exaggerate the scale of Euphiletos’ poverty, not least because it may be in his interests to portray himself as the poor victim of the wealthy Eratosthenes, so as to reduce the risk that the prosecution might present the killing as an act of hubris (for hubris, see §2n; the connection between hubris and wealth is explored at §37n). Certainly Euphiletos’ family do not go in for luxuries like a wet-nurse, but it is hard to be sure of how far down the socioeconomic scale this could be expected (cf. §9n). More signiﬁcantly, they do not fall into the category described by Aristotle (Politics, 1300a7), when he says that the wives of the poor cannot be prevented from going outside to work: on the contrary, Euphiletos is careful to remind us repeatedly that the shopping is done 55 The extent to which Athenian working farmers typically lived on isolated homestead farms or in nucleated settlements has been extensively but inconclusively discussed in recent years. Topics of debate have included the meaning of terms such as oikia in agricultural leases (‘farmhouse’ or ‘building used perhaps primarily for storage’?); the interpretation of excavated and other remains (the Dema and Vari houses, for instance, are isolated and substantial, but neither seems to have been occupied for more than a few decades); and the extent of local or other variation, such as to make it dangerous to generalise either from the literary or from the archaeological record. The argument for nucleated settlements can be found in R. G. Osborne (1985a: 15–35) and (1985c); the contrary case in Lohmann (1993.i: 126–248, summarised in Lohmann 1992), Hanson (1995: esp. 51–60), and N. F. Jones (2004: 17–47); general surveys in Isager & Skydsgaard (1992: 67–82), and more recently in Pettegrew (2001, with responses by R. G. Osborne and by Foxhall). For another possibly relevant passage in Lysias, see 7.28n. 56 Some scholars have seen this as distinguishing the maid who has this task from other maids in Euphiletos’ household, but it could just as easily be straightforward description (see §8n). Certainly there is no hint that the therapaina mentioned at §11 needs to be distinguished from other therapainai.

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either by the maid (§8, §16), or occasionally by himself with the maid acting as human shopping-trolley (§18), and never by his wife. But if this is indeed a oneslave family, that would make Euphiletos considerably poorer than the impression created by the rest of the Orators’ clients,57 which raises the question of how he paid Lysias’ fees for the speech (the scale of which we do not know, but it is generally assumed that they were expensive). Before attempting to answer this question, however, let us turn to Eratosthenes, who is prosopographically interesting because of the rarity of his name. It is attested four times in the Attica volume of LGPN,58 but two of them belong to the ﬁrst century bc, leaving only two persons of this name from Classical Athens: one of these is the victim in this speech, and the other is the member of the Thirty Tyrants who is accused in Lys. 12 of the judicial murder of Lysias’ brother Polemarkhos. Attempts have been made (initially by Kirchner 1901–03: no. 5035, p. 332, and more recently by Avery 1991) to identify the two Eratostheneis as the same person, but the ages of the two men seem not to ﬁt: the tyrant must have been aged at least 18 in 411 to have served as a Trierarkh (allegedly abandoning his post, Lys. 12.42), and we might have expected him to have been aged at least 30 (since this was the normal minimum age for public ofﬁce) as a member of the Thirty in 404/3; in this speech, by contrast, which presumably dates no earlier than 403/2 (cf. p. 43 above), the adulterer is described as neaniskos, a word which Lysias elsewhere reserves for much younger men, and Avery’s attempt to avoid the implications of this is to my mind unconvincing (see §37n). There remains however the possibility that the two Eratostheneis could be relatives. In favour of this hypothesis is the probable overlap of tribes. Given that the list of the Thirty Tyrants in Xen. Hell. 2.3.2, appears to be in tribal order (thus Whitehead 1980), it can be inferred that the tyrant is a member possibly of tribe V Akamantis but probably of tribe VI Oineis; one of the demes making up Oineis was Oe,59 to which the adulterer belonged (§16). In view of the fact that Athenian names tend to run in families, albeit not normally from father to son,60 several scholars (e.g. Davies 1971: no. 5035, p. 185) have suggested that the adulterer could be a close relative: for instance a nephew or indeed possibly a grandson of the tyrant, in the male line and therefore sharing the same deme and tribe. 57 The only possible parallel is the speaker in Lys. 24, but there is reason to believe that he is concealing the scale of his assets. 58 Euphiletos by contrast appears 61 times, Sostratos 171 times, and Harmodius 10 times in the volume. (For the prosopography of the last of these three, see §41n.) Kapparis (1993: 364) used the frequency of the name Eratosthenes throughout the Greek world to argue that it might therefore have been more common in Athens than Kirchner had believed, but the 1994 publication of LGPN Attica revealed no new Classical homonyms. 59 In an attempt to avoid the circumstantial detail (cf. p. 57 n. 51 above), Porter (1997: 437) seeks to explain the attribution of the putatively ﬁctitious adulterer to this deme as ‘a reminiscence of the well-known oligarch’. But it is not clear that this detail would have been well-known (the tyrant is nowhere described e.g. in Lys. 12 as ‘Eratosthenes of Oe’); and if there is an allusion to the tyrant, we might expect there to be an attack on his political career (see following paragraph). 60 Though there are occasional exceptions, including at least one in the form ‘—sthenes —sthenous’: the father of Demosthenes the orator was himself called Demosthenes.

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A prima facie argument against this hypothesis is the problem of silence, ﬁrst noted by Davies himself, who argued against direct identiﬁcation on the grounds that there is no allusion anywhere in the speech to the anti-democratic political career of the tyrant,61 and that ‘such restraint, for Lysias of all men, would have been superhuman’. But the same objection, as was noted by Whitehead (1980: 210), would count also against Davies’ own hypothesis, since in the world of forensic character assassination you are normally held responsible for the misdeeds of your relatives. Further examination, however, suggests that the argument from silence may be of limited signiﬁcance on this occasion. It is an important part of Euphiletos’ defence to suggest that there had been no motive for the killing, but to attack the anti-democratic credentials of a close relative of the deceased would make it clear that there had been a very good motive indeed.62 It is tempting therefore to suggest that we may be facing a game of double bluff, in which Lysias is tacitly challenging the prosecution (themselves the dead man’s relatives) to be the ﬁrst to verbalise what could be a genuine motive, but which for them to mention is to call down upon themselves the opprobrium of the Thirty’s reputation. On this basis, I am therefore attracted by Davies’ suggestion that we may be dealing here with a close relative of Eratosthenes the tyrant. Perhaps indeed it was the presence of such a clear political motive that made the prosecution, if not the court, suspect that Euphiletos had plotted the killing. This can only be wild speculation, but if correct, it would certainly be very interesting that Lysias, a man whose brother had been killed following arrest by Eratosthenes the tyrant, undertook the defence of a man who (as was noted at pp. 58–59 above) seems to have been poorer than the majority of the Orators’ clients: a cut-price deal for services rendered? 61 Kirchner (1901–03: no. 5035, p. 332) speculated that such an allusion could underlie the reference to sykophancy at §44, but all subsequent scholars have agreed that this is a purely hypothetical topos. 62 The importance of avoiding the suggestion of prior enmity is discussed by Avery (1991: 381), in response to Davies’ comments on superhuman restraint (above), but his distinction between the aims of client and of logographer is in this context to my mind unhelpful, and he does not consider the issue of double bluff (below).

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1 Concerning the Killing of Eratosthenes: Defence Speech [1] I should greatly appreciate, gentlemen, your behaving in the same way towards me as judges in this case as you would towards yourselves, if you had suffered the sort of things that I have. For I know full well that if you held the same opinions about other people as you do about yourselves, there would not be a single one of you who would not be angry at what has happened; instead, you would all regard as trivial the penalties for those who engage in things like this. [2] Indeed, this verdict would be shared not only among yourselves, but throughout the whole of Greece: this is the only crime for which under both democracy and oligarchy the same redress is given to those who are powerless against those who are all-powerful, so that the weakest achieves the same position as does the strongest. Clearly therefore, gentlemen, everybody believes that this is the most terrible type of hubris. [3] Concerning the level of the penalty, I am sure that you all share the same view, and that nobody rates the matter so lightly as to believe that those who are responsible for such deeds ought to be pardoned,

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or to suggest that they deserve only a token punishment. [4] As far as I can see, gentlemen, my job is to demonstrate the following: that Eratosthenes committed adultery1 with my wife; that he ruined her, and disgraced my children, and committed hubris against myself by entering my household; that there was no prior enmity between us except for this, and that I did not do what I did for the sake of money, in order to achieve wealth instead of poverty, nor for the sake of any other reward except for the redress permitted by law. [5] So then, I shall tell you everything about my affairs from the beginning, leaving nothing out, but telling the truth. This in my opinion will be my only refuge, if I can tell you everything that happened. [6] After I decided to get married, men of Athens, and brought my bride home, for a while my attitude was that I would not trouble her, but that it would not be entirely up to her to do whatever she wanted. I kept watch on her as far as was possible; and I paid her the level of attention that was appropriate. But when my child was born, from that moment I began to have full conﬁdence in her, and I placed all my affairs in her hands, reckoning that our relationship was as secure as it could be. [7] In those early days, men of Athens, she was the best of women: a skilful, thrifty housekeeper, who supervised everything perfectly. But when my mother died, a death which was the cause of all my troubles—[8] For it was while attending her burial

1

For this translation of moikhos and cognates, see pp. 46–49 above.

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that my wife was seen by this fellow, and she was eventually ruined by him: he kept an eye out for the maid who did the shopping, and put forward proposals and corrupted her. [9] Now before continuing, gentlemen, there is a point which needs to be explained: my house is on two levels. The upper ﬂoor has the same area as the ﬂoor underneath, at least as far as the women’s and the men’s rooms are concerned. When the baby was born, my wife breast-fed it. So as to avoid her risking an accident coming down the stairs every time it needed washing, I took over the upstairs rooms, and the women those downstairs. [10] By now this had become so much a matter of habit that my wife would often leave me to go and sleep with the baby, so that she could suckle it without it crying. And things went on in this way for a long time, and I never had the slightest suspicion; indeed, I was so simple-minded that I used to reckon that my wife was the most respectable of all the women in the polis. [11] Time passed by, gentlemen, and one day I returned unexpectedly from the countryside. After dinner, the baby began to cry and was restless. He was being teased by the maid deliberately so that he would do this, because the man was inside the house: I found out all about it at a later date. [12] I told my wife to go and feed the baby, to stop it crying. At ﬁrst she refused, as if she were glad to see me now that I had returned after so long. When I became

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angry and ordered her to go, she replied, ‘Oh yes, so that you can stay here and force your attentions on the slave-girl. You made a grab at her once before when you were drunk.’ [13] I laughed at this, and she got up and left. She closed the door behind her, pretending to make a joke out of it, and locked it. I had no suspicions, and thought no more of it; instead, I went to bed perfectly satisﬁed after my return from the countryside. [14] When it was getting towards morning, she came and unlocked the door. I asked her why the doors had made a noise during the night; and she explained that the baby’s night-light had gone out, and so she had had it re-lit at our neighbours’. I was silent, and believed that this was the case. But it struck me, gentlemen, that she had put make-up on her face, even though her brother had not yet been dead for thirty days. Even so, I did not make any comment about the matter, but went out and left the house in silence. [15] After this, gentlemen, there was an interval of some time, during which I remained completely unaware of my misfortunes. But then an old woman came up to me. She had been secretly sent by a lady with whom this fellow had committed adultery, as I later discovered. This lady was angry, and reckoned that she had been cheated by him, because he no longer came to visit her in the same way as before; so she kept watch until she found out the reason for this.

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[16] She came up to me, the woman did, near to my house; she was keeping an eye on it. ‘Euphiletos,’ she said, ‘please do not think that it is out of meddlesomeness that I have approached you: the man who is committing hubris against you and your wife is an enemy of ours as well. Get hold of your maid, the one who does the shopping and waits on you, and torture her: you will learn all about it. It is,’ she continued, ‘Eratosthenes of Oe who is doing this. He has seduced not only your wife but many others as well. He makes a hobby of it.’ [17] She said this, gentlemen, and left me. At once I became alarmed. Everything came back into my mind, and I was ﬁlled with suspicion. I recalled how I had been locked in my room, and I remembered how on the night in question both the door of the house and the outer door had made a noise (a thing which had never happened before), and how I had noticed that my wife had used make-up. All these things ﬂashed into my mind, and I was full of suspicion. [18] I returned home, and told the maid to come shopping with me, but I took her to the house of one of my friends, and I told her that I now knew everything that was going on in my house. ‘So it is up to you,’ I said, ‘to choose the fate that you prefer: either to be ﬂogged and thrown into a mill, and never to experience any respite from that sort of suffering; or else to admit the whole truth

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and suffer no punishment, but instead to have my forgiveness for your crimes. No lies now: I want the full truth.’ [19] At ﬁrst she denied it, and told me to do whatever I pleased: she knew nothing. But when I mentioned the name Eratosthenes to her, and declared that this was the man who was visiting my wife, she was confused, believing that I had a clear knowledge of the whole affair. At that point she fell at my knees, and received a pledge from me that she would suffer no harm. [20] She accused him, ﬁrst, of having made contact with her after the burial, and then how she herself had eventually acted as his messenger, and how my wife had in the end been won over, and the various times he had entered the house and the different ways he had been smuggled in, and how during the Thesmophoria, when I was out in the countryside, my wife had attended the sanctuary with his mother. And she gave me a full and accurate account of everything else that had happened. [21] When she had ﬁnished talking, I said to her, ‘You make sure that no living soul hears about this, otherwise nothing in your agreement with me will be binding. And I want you to show me their offence in the act. I don’t want words; I want their actions to be clearly proved, if it is really true.’ She agreed to do this. [22] After this there was an interval of four or ﬁve days, as I shall bring clear evidence to show. But ﬁrst, I want to tell you what happened on that last day. There is a man called Sostratos, who was a close friend of mine. I happened to meet him, at sunset, when he was returning from the countryside. I knew that if he returned at that time, he would ﬁnd no food at home,

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so I asked him to come and have dinner with me. We returned to my house, went upstairs, and had supper. [23] After he had had a good meal, he left, and I went to bed. Eratosthenes, gentlemen, entered the house, and the maid woke me at once and said that he was indoors. I told her to take care of the door, and I went downstairs and left my home in silence. I called at the houses of various friends: some I found at home, but others I discovered were not in town. [24] I gathered together as many as I could from those available, and returned home. We picked up torches from the nearest shop, and made our way in; the door was open, because it had been kept ready by the maid. We burst open the door of the bedroom, and those of us who were ﬁrst to enter saw him still lying beside my wife. The others, who came later, saw him standing on the bed unprotected. [25] I struck him, gentlemen, and knocked him down; I twisted his arms behind him and tied them, and I asked him why he had committed hubris against my house by entering it. He admitted his guilt. He begged and entreated me not to kill him but to accept compensation. [26] I replied, ‘It is not I who will be your killer, but rather the law of the city; you have broken that law, and have made it less important than your own pleasure; and you have preferred to commit this crime against my wife and my children rather than to behave as a responsible citizen and to obey the laws.’ [27] Thus it was, gentlemen, that this man met the fate which the laws prescribe for those who do such things. He was not snatched in from the road, nor had he taken refuge at the hearth,

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as these men claim. How could he have done so? It was inside the bedroom that he was struck, and he immediately fell down, and I bound his hands; moreover, there were so many men in the house that he could never have escaped; and he did not have a knife or a club or any other weapon with which to repel those who were coming at him. [28] I am sure that you too realise, gentlemen, that men who commit injustice never admit that their enemies are telling the truth, but instead they themselves tell lies and use tricks to arouse anger on the part of their hearers against the innocent. First of all, then, read out the law. LAW [29] He did not dispute it, gentlemen. He agreed that he was guilty and he begged and pleaded not to be killed. He was ready to pay money in compensation. But I did not accept his proposal. I reckoned that the law of the city should have greater authority; and I exacted from him that penalty which you yourselves, believing it to be just, have ordained for people who behave in this way. Let my witnesses to these facts come forward. WITNESSES [30] Read me out this law also, the one from the inscription on the Areiopagos. LAW You hear, gentlemen, how it is explicitly declared by the court of the Areiopagos itself (whose right of judging homicide cases is both ancestral and has been granted in our own day): a man is not to be convicted of homicide if he captures an adulterer by the side of his wife and exacts the death-penalty from him. [31] Indeed,

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the lawgiver is so convinced that this is appropriate in the case of married women that he has imposed the same penalty in the case of concubines, who are of course less important. Now clearly if the lawgiver had had any more severe punishment available, he would have imposed it in the case of married women; but as it is he was unable to ﬁnd a more powerful sanction than death to use in their case, and so he decided the penalty should be the same as in the case of concubines. Read me out this law as well. LAW [32] You hear, gentlemen: it ordains that if anybody shames with violence a free adult or child, he shall pay double damages; while if he does this to a woman (in those categories where the death-sentence is applicable), he shall be liable to the same penalty. Clearly therefore, gentlemen, the lawgiver believed that those who commit rape deserve a lighter penalty than those who seduce: he condemned the latter to death, but for the former he laid down double damages. [33] He believed that those who act by violence are hated by those who have been assaulted, whereas those who act by seduction corrupt the minds of their victims in such a way that they make other people’s wives more closely related to themselves than to their husbands. The victim’s whole household becomes the adulterer’s, and as for the children, it is unclear whose children they are, the husband’s or the seducer’s. Because of this the lawgiver laid down the death-penalty for adulterers. [34] So then, gentlemen, the laws have not only acquitted me of crime, but have actually commanded me to exact this penalty. It is for you to decide whether the laws are to be authoritative or worthless.

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[35] This is the reason, in my opinion, why every city enacts its laws, so that when we are uncertain in a situation we can go to the law to ﬁnd out what we should do; and it is the law which commands the victims in such cases to exact this penalty. [36] So I beg you now to reach the same verdict as the law does. If not, you will be giving to adulterers such security that you will encourage thieves to call themselves adulterers too. They will realise that if they describe adultery as their object and claim that they have entered another’s house for this purpose, nobody will dare to touch them. Everyone will know that we must say good-bye to the laws on adultery and take notice only of the jury’s vote—which is of course the sovereign authority over all the city’s affairs! [37] Please consider this point as well, gentlemen. They accuse me of having ordered my maid on the night in question to fetch the young man. Now as far as I am concerned, gentlemen, I would have been acting justly in capturing in any way possible the man who had corrupted my wife. [38] Admittedly if I had sent her to summon him when words alone had been spoken but no act had been committed, then I would have been acting unlawfully. If however I had captured him, whatever my methods, when he had already achieved all he wanted and had repeatedly entered my house, then I would have regarded myself as acting in a wholly appropriate fashion. [39] But consider that they are lying about this point as well. You can see this easily from what follows. As I told you before, gentlemen, Sostratos is a close friend of mine. He met me around sunset on his way home from the countryside, he had dinner with me, and when he had had a good meal, he left. But in the ﬁrst place,

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gentlemen, think about this: [40] if I had been engaged in a conspiracy that night against Eratosthenes, would it not have been more sensible for me to dine somewhere else with Sostratos, rather than to bring him back home for dinner? In this latter case the adulterer would have been that much less likely to risk entering my house. And second, does it seem plausible to you that I would send away the man who had had dinner with me and would stay behind alone and unaccompanied, instead of asking him to remain so that he could help me punish the adulterer? [41] And then again, gentlemen, do you not think it likely that I would have sent messages during the day to my acquaintances, asking them to meet at the house of one of my friends, whichever was nearest, rather than racing round during the night the moment I heard the news, not knowing whom I should ﬁnd at home and who would be out? I called on Harmodios, and on another man, who were both out of town (I had no reason to expect this), and I found that others were not at home; but I went round and gathered everybody I could. [42] And yet if I had had foreknowledge, do you not think I would have gathered together slaves and warned my friends, so that I would myself have been able to enter the bedroom with complete safety (how was I to know whether he too might have a weapon?), and so that I could have exacted the penalty in front of the maximum number of witnesses? But in fact I knew nothing of what was going to happen that night, so I took with me those that I could ﬁnd. Let my witnesses to these facts come forward. WITNESSES [43] You have heard the witnesses, gentlemen. But I would like you to examine the affair in your own minds as follows. Ask yourselves whether

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there had ever been any enmity between Eratosthenes and myself except for this. You will not be able to ﬁnd any. [44] He had not maliciously brought a public prosecution against me; he was not trying to expel me from the city; he was not bringing a private prosecution; he did not know of any offence of mine which I would kill him for, fearing that it would become public knowledge; and even if I could have done this, I had no hope of extracting money from anywhere (for there are admittedly those who plot the deaths of other people for this purpose). [45] So far from there being a dispute or drunken brawl or any other disagreement between us, I had never even seen the man before that night. What was I hoping for, then, by running so great a risk—if I had not in reality suffered the most terrible of injuries at his hands? [46] And why did I commit this impious act after myself summoning witnesses—since if I had wanted to make away with him illegally, it would have been possible for me to have none of them knowing anything about it? [47] So, gentlemen, I do not accept that this redress was exacted privately on my own behalf, but rather for the sake of the whole city. If men who commit this sort of offence see the sort of rewards that await crimes like these, then they will be less eager to commit them against other people—if only they see that you are holding fast to the same opinion. [48] If not, then it would be much better to scrub out the existing laws and enact other ones, laws which would impose penalties on men who guard

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their own wives, and which would grant total security to criminals who offend against these women. [49] It would be far more just to do this than to let citizens be trapped by the laws: for these instruct the man who catches an adulterer to treat him in any way he pleases, whereas the courts turn out to be far more dangerous to the victims than to the men who break the law and dishonour other people’s wives. [50] For I am now on trial for my person, my property, and all that is mine—simply because I obeyed the laws of the city.

Lysias 1. Concerning the Killing of Eratosthenes: Commentary §§1–5 Proem In keeping with his strategy of inverting the legal situation (see next note but two), Euphiletos makes no attempt to throw himself on the mercy of the jury. Instead, he adopts from the outset a pose of conﬁdence in the merits of his case and in the certainty of a favourable verdict, similar to that of Mantitheos in speech 16. For the subordination of commonplace elements here to the strategic aims of the speech, see Grau (1972: 62–69). Linguistic features of the proem are discussed by Edwards (1999: 64), who notes the complexity of its sentencestructure (240 words in only four sentences); also by Blass (1887 [1868]: 576–577), who ﬁnds much more deployment of rhetorical ﬁgures in the proem and peroration than in the narrative. §1. ὦ ανδρες (‘gentlemen’). It seems unlikely that there were binding rules about the choice of vocatives with which to address an Athenian court,1 but Lysias’ speeches are fairly consistent in their usage. Both the Council of Five Hundred (as in Lys. 16, Lys. 24, Lys. 31) and the Areiopagos (Lys. 3, Lys. 4, Lys. 7, Lys. frag. 210 Prosecution of Lysitheos for trauma ek pronoias) are always and only addressed as ‘members of the council’ (o¯ boule¯, found on 56 occasions, only in these seven speeches), whereas a dikastic court is normally addressed as o¯ andres dikastai (‘gentlemen of the jury’, lit. ‘dikasts’, found 183 times elsewhere in the corpus).2 Despite manuscript variants (for which see Carey’s apparatus at §6, §7, §32, §47, and esp. §9), editors are generally agreed that this speech shows a complete avoidance of the o¯ andres dikastai form, and a marked preference as here for o¯ andres (24 times in Lys. 1, found in the rest of his forensic corpus only at Lys. 32.21), interspersed twice with o¯ Athe¯naioi (‘Athenians’, at §6 and §7, found elsewhere in the corpus only in the non-forensic Lys. 34 and in frag. 279 Against 1 Antiphon for instance uses o¯ andres indiscriminately throughout his three extant homicide speeches, despite the fact that Ant. 1 was evidently delivered before the Areiopagos (Gagarin 1997: 119), Ant. 6 at the Palladion (addressed ten times as o¯ andres but also once as o¯ andres dikastai at Ant. 6.1), and Ant. 5 before a dikastic jury. (The possible signiﬁcance of the refusal of Sokrates in Plato’s Apology to address the court as o¯ andres dikastai is discussed by Dickey 1996: 177–180.) 2 For a systematic collection of the data, see Perotti (1989–90: 46 n. 8), whose interpretation, however, is not followed here. There is of course a danger in any analysis that variations may be edited out, as is done for instance by many editors at the end of Lys. 28.10.

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Teisis §1). This may therefore reﬂect an authorial view that the phrase o¯ andres dikastai was not appropriate for use in front of the Delphinion, which perhaps supports the hypothesis that this court continued to be manned by ephetai rather than being transferred to dikastai after 403/2 (see p. 46 above).3 ἐπὶ τοῖς γεγενηµένοις (‘at what has happened’). Logically this must refer to the adultery rather than to the killing, but the language is formally and perhaps deliberately ambiguous. For Euphiletos explicitly and unambiguously to adopt the part of an indignant prosecutor (though this rôle can also be subverted, cf. following note) would risk arousing objections in the minds of the jury: far better to do this more gradually, and start by using language to which they cannot so object. Similar ambiguity underlies το$του . . . το' α2δικµατο (‘this . . . crime’) and τα$την τDν Hβριν (‘this . . . type of hubris’) in §2, and τοZ τν τοιο$των -ργων ατου (‘those who are responsible for such deeds’) in §3. τὰς ζηµίας (‘the penalties’). A key strategic aim in this speech is to invert the legal situation. Whereas in reality Euphiletos is the defendant in a prosecution for murder brought by the relatives of Eratosthenes, Lysias turns it into a prosecution of Eratosthenes for adultery brought by the laws (e.g. §26n). See in detail Bateman (1958a: 6–7; 1962: 171–172); Carey (1989: 64); Desbourdes (1990: 101–102). Hence the curious spectacle of a defendant claiming that penalties are too lenient. The euphemistic vagueness here is noted by Weissenberger (1993: 57): care is taken not make explicit at this stage that the penalty he has exacted is death. §2. ἐν ἁπάσῃ τῇ Ἑλλάδι (‘throughout the whole of Greece’). The veracity and credibility of this assertion is hard to determine. The claim by one of Xenophon’s speakers that ‘many cities’ permit those committing moikheia4 to be killed with impunity (Xen. Hieron, 3.3) implies that it is a view which could be heard, but makes no attempt to justify it with examples. We do hear of severe sanctions in a couple of jurisdictions (Tenedos in Aristotle, Constitution of Tenedians, frag. 593 [Rose], Epizephyrian Lokroi in Aelian, VH 13.24 and Val.Max. 6.5.3, which are discussed by Carey 1989: 65; for further refs., see Lipsius 1905–15: 432 n. 50, S. G. Cole 1984: 108 n. 49, and Schmitz 1997: 107–115), but evidence of this type is so scattered and decontextualised that I would prefer to read it as rhetoric rather than as legal history.5 More reliable as legal evidence is the tariff of ﬁnancial penalties laid out in the Gortyn Code (2.20–45), which suggests that not 3

Since we have no extant speeches in which ephetai are addressed by title (Wallace 1989: 104, though I do not share his inference that this means they were no longer available to address), there seems no reason to accept the argument of G. Smith (1924: 354), that o¯ Athe¯naioi would be an inappropriate form of address for what she describes as ‘a court composed of a small section of the Areiopagos’. 4 For the meaning of moikheia (‘adultery’ or ‘seduction’), see pp. 46–49 above. 5 For moikheia as a topic attracting moralising assertions in legal guise, compare the remark attributed by Plutarch to one Geradas or Geradatas, putting forward an explicitly implausible sanction based on the claim that this was an activity unknown at Sparta (Plut. Lykourgos, 15.9–10 with Spartan Sayings 228b8–c11).

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every Greek city would have accepted Lysias’ preceding claim that moikheia should merit maximum penalties, let alone his succeeding assertion that the procedures for dealing with it should ignore issues of status. It is however a commonplace of forensic oratory to buttress the claims of a moral custom or law by asserting its universality: thus for instance will-making is allegedly common to all the Greeks (Isok. 19.50–51), whereas recognition of the moral element in wrongdoing, generous rewarding of benefactors and the duty of hospitality towards fugitives are described as common to all mankind (Lys. 31.11, Dem. 20.39, and Dem. 23.85 respectively), while other regulations are explicitly said to be either shared or at least well regarded even by non-Greeks (respectively Dem. 43.22 on degrees of kinship and Dem. 21.50 on hubris). But once again the interest of such passages, in my view, lies more in their rhetoric than as evidence for comparative legal history.6 To that extent, perhaps the closest parallel to this passage is Isaios’ claim that ‘all men, both Greeks and Barbarians’—barring of course his client’s opponent—make use of the Athenian law on adoption (Isai., 2.24, on which see the reservations expressed by Rubinstein 1993: 5–6). On the use of the law of other poleis as a source of authority by Athenian forensic orators, see §35n. καὶ ἐν δηµοκρατίᾳ καὶ ὀλιγαρχίᾳ (‘under both democracy and oligarchy’). A polar opposition, serving to denote every type of constitution. It is perhaps striking, given the recent and negative reputation of the Thirty at Athens, that oligarchy is mentioned with no attempt to undermine its legitimacy as a form of government. This may be because the overriding immediate aim is to mark out the uniqueness of adultery (‘even oligarchies legislate severely against this offence’), though if the suggestion about Eratosthenes’ family relationships made at pp. 59–60 above is accepted, there may be a barbed ad hominem allusion here to the dead Eratosthenes (‘even a would-be oligarch would not dissent from this proposition’). In general, however, oligarchy is something that Lysias’ clients have no great hesitation in mentioning, even if it is something in which they themselves have pretty clearly been implicated (see e.g. Lys. 7.41, and the twelve appearances of the noun in Lys. 25): it does not fall into the category of unmentionable words like Aigospotamoi (for which see Lys. 6.46n). τιµωρία (‘redress’). This word is conventionally translated into English either as ‘vengeance’ or as ‘punishment’.7 The complex of meanings (seen e.g. in the use of the verb timo¯reomai at 3.39 and 10.13 to denote personal vengeance achieved through legal means) is signiﬁcant: the prosecutor in an Athenian trial had to be a private individual, and it was normal for him to claim that he was acting in order to get his own back on the defendant. 6 Even as evidence for a purported belief in a common set of legal principles shared throughout the Greek world (for the ‘Greek law’ debate, see Gagarin 2005: 29–40), the value of these passages is undermined precisely because the topos is routinely extended to non-Greeks. 7 Allen (2000: 61) emphasises the connection with time¯ (honour), and suggests as translation ‘to assess and to distribute honour’, noting that punishment stripped the convicted wrongdoer of honour but simultaneously gave back honour to his prosecutor.

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ὕβριν (‘hubris’). Hubris and its cognates are used of a variety of transgressive behaviours, ranging from verbal insult to physical violence. What they have in common is their seriousness: indeed, the existence of the graphe¯ hubreo¯s (i.e. a public rather than a private prosecution) suggests that in Athenian law the term signiﬁed acts which, although committed against private individuals, were nevertheless regarded as in some sense threatening to the community at large.8 In sexual contexts, hubris can denote either a consensual affair (as here) or an act of violence accomplished by coercion (refs. in Fisher 1992: 106; for the relationship between adultery and rape in Athenian law, see §32n). In the present case, Lysias is notably ambivalent as to whether the offence is to be seen as being committed primarily against Euphiletos himself as head of the household (§4n), or against himself and his wife jointly (§16n). For hubris and paranomia, see 3.5n; for the absence of the term from funeral speeches, see 2.9n. §3. τοὺς τῶν τοιούτων ἔργων αἰτίους (‘those who are responsible for such deeds’). For the continuing ambiguity, see §1n. §4. τοῦτό µε δεῖν ἐπιδεῖξαι (‘my job is to demonstrate the following’). Usher (in Edwards & Usher 1985: 222) notes that unlike his predecessor Antiphon, Lysias regularly uses the proem to summarize the issues at stake in the case (cf. e.g. Lys. 7.5). When an orator begins his speech by setting his own agenda, however, it is time for his audience to be on their guard: the issue of motive, for instance, is dealt with in very general terms and may be a distraction from the charges focused on by the prosecution (see §37n). ἐµοίχευεν (‘committed adultery with’). For the meaning of the term moikheia (‘adultery’ or ‘seduction’), see pp. 46–49 above. Along with δι φθειρε (‘corrupted’), [σχυνε (‘disgraced’) and Hβρισεν (‘humiliated’, lit. ‘committed hubris’, cf. §2n) in the next few lines, this sets the theme for the speech: all are aspects of what Eratosthenes has done, and these are the terms which will recur throughout the speech (moikheuo¯ [verb] at §15; moikheia [the offence] at §36; moikhos [the offender] at §30, §33, §36 bis, §41, §49; diaphtheiro¯ at §8, §33, §38; aiskhuno¯ at §49 and cf. §32; hubris and cognates at §2 and §16). For Euphiletos as the sole object of hubris here, contrast §16n. τοὺς παῖδας (‘children’). The plural is found also at §26, but in the key sections of the narrative he seems to have only one child (§6, §9, §10, §11). A plurality of children is accepted by Patterson (1998: 167), but most scholars have inferred that the two plurals represent an attempt to generalise and thus to make the crime more heinous (thus e.g. Albini 1952b: 5; Carey 1989: 65). 8 The classic treatments of hubris are those of MacDowell (1976; 1990: 18–23) and Fisher (1976–79; 1992). For the former, the core concept lies in the psychology of the person committing the act, and what distinguishes it e.g. from lesser forms of assault is the misuse of his excessive strength; for the latter, the key issue is the sociology of the victim, such that hubris is an attack on the dignity of the person assaulted.

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εἰσιών (‘by entering’). The ﬁrst appearance of what becomes another key-note of the speech. What makes Eratosthenes’ behaviour particularly horrible is that he has come into my home and broken it up, as is emphasised by the repeated use of eiserkhomai in the narrative at §23 and §25, and in the proofs at §36, §38 and §40. οὔτε ἔχθρα . . . πλὴν ταύτης (‘no prior enmity . . . except for this’). Personal enmity as a motive for litigation is a frequent topos in the Orators, and has been discussed extensively by scholars (most recently Rhodes 1998 and Kurihara 2003, the latter with particular reference to Lysias and focusing on the pattern of usage in private and public speeches). For the context-speciﬁc ﬂexibility with which it can be acknowledged or denied by litigants, see Carey (1989: 65–66); for a development of the topos, see §44n. It should be noted that the denial both here and at §43 is subject to an important caveat: for there to have been a state of enmity at the time of the killing is acceptable since this had been provoked by Eratosthenes’ actions, but it is important for Euphiletos to deny any pre-existing enmity. οὔτε . . . ἔπραξα ταῦτα (‘I did not do what I did’, lit. ‘do these things’). The ﬁrst allusion to the fact that it is Euphiletos who is on trial for what he has done. It is however a very guarded allusion: as Desbourdes (1990: 102) notes, he avoids saying ‘I did not kill him’. χρηµάτων ἕνεκα (‘for the sake of money’). To the extent that the phrase is a commonplace particularly in Lysias (e.g. 10.5; 12.7; 19.17; 24.2), Euphiletos may have in mind the type of compensation that he claims that Eratosthenes vainly offered at §25 and §29. But given that he has in fact killed, he may possibly be denying that he did so as a paid assassin. ἵνα πλούσιος ἐκ πένητος γένωµαι (‘in order to achieve wealth instead of poverty’, lit. ‘to become wealthy,’ etc.). Acquisition of sudden wealth is commonly alleged by speakers against their opponents, particularly where these are political ﬁgures (κ π νητο/πεντων in Lys. 25.27, 30; 27.9; 28.2; Dem. 24.124; κ/α2ντ πτωχο'/ πτωχν in Lys. 30.28; Dem. 3.29; 18.131). Although the present passage represents a variation on the topos, Weissenberger (1993: 59 n. 12) rightly notes that it cannot be taken as straightforward evidence of Euphiletos’ economic status.9 §5. οὐδὲν παραλείπων, ἀλλὰ λέγων τἀληθῆ (‘leaving nothing out, but telling the truth’). For the programmatic gambit, cf. Lys. 3.3 and Lys. frag. 279 Against Teisis §1. In fact the details of what he tells us are very carefully selected, as is the order in which they are told, and the perspective from which we hear them. Euphiletos offers, for instance, no details of the killing itself, and even if his account were factually complete, it is notable that he never stops to discuss what might have been his motives, as opposed to what his motives were not.

9

Euphiletos’ economic status is discussed at pp. 58–59 above. For other variations, see Dem. 57.45 and (comic inversion) Lys. 32.17.

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§§6–28 Narrative A substantial narrative, introduced at §§6–8 with an overview of the whole affair. This is followed by a short connecting passage (§§9–10), which describes the domestic setting that enabled the affair to proceed, and which itself underlies the ﬁrst and third of the three sequences of events which follow. It is at this point that the perspective changes, with Euphiletos’ initial stance—that of omniscient narrator looking back at the past—giving way to the viewpoint of Euphiletos as participant in the story,10 though this itself is interpenetrated with conspiratorial hints in which Euphiletos as narrator can share with us the advantage of hindsight: ‘inside the house: I found out all about it at a later date’ (§11); ‘secretly sent . . . as I later discovered’ (§15). Then come the three main narrative sequences, each separated by the passage of time (cf. esp. §22n): the successful adultery downstairs with Euphiletos asleep upstairs (§§11–14); Euphiletos’ discovery of the truth and his reaction (§§15–21); and the unsuccessful adultery which led to the killing of Eratosthenes (§§22–26). The ﬁnal stage of the narrative (§§27–28) marks the way for the proofs. The complexity of perspective in Euphiletos’ narrative is noted by Erbse (1958: 53), by Grau (1972: 67–68), and by Porter (1997: 421), but it is worth emphasising here the way it enables him to be portrayed as slow on the uptake (an important aspect of his defence), but without his stupidity becoming irritating to the hearer. It also enables him to enter into a twofold special relationship with the hearers: we feel clever, because we can spot what is going on before Euphiletos did, and we gaze round at our fellow-jurors wondering whether they too have picked up what is going on; and we also feel that we can trust Euphiletos, because he is not simply a participant in the story, but has assumed the position of commentator and therefore must be impartial. §6. γῆµαι (‘to get married’).11 It is no surprise that he does not name his wife here. As Schaps (1977) has observed, only three groups of women are normally named in Athenian courts: women of low repute; women related to your opponent (with the tacit implication that they fall into the ﬁrst category also); and women who are dead. At this stage in the story, however, Euphiletos’ wife is still eminently respectable and cannot therefore be identiﬁed in this way. What is at ﬁrst sight more surprising is that she is not named later in the speech, when she has lost her respectability, but it is striking that she simply fades out of the story at that point (see §24n). Nor is she identiﬁed at the moment of marriage here, as often in the Orators, by the name of a male relative (typically that of the father, as at Isai. 2.18; Dem. 27.56; 40.12), but this silence here allows us not to 10 De Jong’s narratological study of Euripidean messenger speeches uses the terms ‘experiencing focalisation’ and ‘narrating focalisation’, citing as a parallel the juxtaposition of ‘the young Pip [in Great Expectations] who undergoes the events, and the mature Pip who recounts them’ (De Jong 1999: 30). 11 ‘There is no mention here of his having become attracted to a particular girl—that would be quite improper. No, it was rather a feeling that he had sown his wild oats . . . and it was now time to settle down and start a family’ (Dillon 2004: 2).

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notice that barring an entirely passive allusion at §14, his in-laws take no part in the action, not even as witnesses to his wife’s disgrace. On her depiction more as fellow-victim than as fellow-criminal, and the failure to mention the law requiring her to be divorced for adultery, see p. 48 with n. 24 above). γυναῖκα ἠγαγόµην (‘brought my bride home’). It is only in certain parts of the modern west that newly married couples are expected to set up home jointly. Here the marriage is virilocal (the bride is received into her husband’s home), which was normal but not automatic among Athenian couples: see R. G. Osborne (1985a: 127–141); Cox (1998: 38–67, esp. pp. 41–47). µήτε λυπεῖν (‘I would not trouble her’). Pomeroy (1975: 83), followed by Edwards (1999: 67), sees here a possible euphemism for not making excessive sexual demands. But this may presuppose an anachronistically modern attitude on the part of men towards sexual relationships. Certainly in Aristophanes it is women rather than men who are routinely assumed to want too much sex, and this does not seem to be a topos conﬁned to comedy: Gardner (1989: 51 with nn. 3–4) offers extensive citations from Thesmo. and Ekkles., but notes also the pseudoHesiodic story of Teiresias’ being blinded by Hera for saying that sex gave greater pleasure to women. µήτε λίαν ἐπ’ ἐκείνῃ εἶναι (‘it would not be entirely [lit. “too much”] up to her’). It is perhaps worth noting that at this stage his mother was still alive (cf. §7n), and will presumably therefore have exercised considerable control over domestic responsibilities within the household. On conﬂicts between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law, see Demand (1994: 15–18). ἐπειδὴ δέ µοι παιδίον γίγνεται (‘when my child was born’). The overt function of this detail is to show that he was not being foolhardy in putting trust in his wife, but presumably he is also seeking to dispel suspicions that his son is a bastard, by making it clear that the liaison cannot have begun before this date. Note the use of the dative singular here to denote the birth of a baby ‘to me’, with the plural ‘to us’ being used only at §9 when his wife’s physical safety is at issue. ἐπίστευον ἤδη καὶ . . . παρέδωκα (‘I began to have full conﬁdence . . ., and I placed [lit. “handed over”] . . .’). Pomeroy (1994: 36) suggests that such a trial period was normal before a husband would allow his wife to control his (not her) affairs. For the birth of the ﬁrst child as marking the full transition to female maturity, see King (1998: 77); for its rôle in creating trust between husband and wife, see Golden (1990: 164–165). ἡγούµενος ταύτην οἰκειότητα µεγίστην εἶναι (‘that our relationship was as secure as it could be’, lit. ‘was the strongest’, or possibly ‘that this was the best relationship’). Oikeiote¯s in the surviving forensic speeches nearly always denotes a relationship between males.12 It is most commonly used to assert the speaker’s 12

The one clear exception (Isai. 5.10, discussing the standards expected of an adoptive son towards his adoptive father’s sisters and nieces) is not a close parallel.

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claim to a blood-link with a deceased relative (Andok. 1.118; Isai. 1.33, 41, 42, 47; 9.31); and where marriage is involved, it is normally the bond between male in-laws that is at issue (Isok. 19.8; Dem. 27.5).13 This male focus, however, may derive more from the way in which legal stories in our speeches tend to be told about men (thus Johnstone 1999: 46–69), rather than from anything intrinsic in the meaning of the word: certainly Isokrates in an epideictic context uses it to denote the relationship ﬁrst of Theseus and then of Paris towards Helen (Isok. 10.18, 42: it should be noted that neither relationship would be a valid marriage in Athenian eyes, since neither has the consent of Helen’s male kin). §7. οἰκονόµος δεινὴ καὶ ϕειδωλὸς [ἀγαθή] (‘a skilful, thrifty housekeeper’). The emphasis here is on thrift as a social value which Lysias believes the jury will share, but the manuscript text makes uncomfortable reading, because φειδωλ* and α2γαθ are both apparently adjectives and cannot therefore qualify each other. Many solutions have been suggested: the easiest (proposed by Dobree 1874: 173 and adopted in Carey’s OCT) is to delete agathe¯ (‘good’) as a marginal gloss made by a scribe who was uncertain of the meaning in this context either of deine¯ (here ‘skilful’ rather than ‘dangerous’) or of pheido¯los (‘thrifty’). Other scholars however have regarded it instead as a corruption of something else (thus e.g. Erbse 1958: 54 n. 8, who suggested δαπαν8, ‘thrifty in her expenditure’). A further complication was introduced by Albini (1960), who observed that the text as we have it has clearly been imitated by a sixth-century ad rhetorician (Choricius of Gaza, Funeral Speech on Mary, 4); Albini himself suggested that the manuscript text should be retained, and interpreted not as one adjective qualifying another but as asyndeton (lack of grammatical connection). It is however possible that Choricius was imitating an already corrupt text: the incidence of textual corruption well before his time is inferred by Carey (2007: p. x) from the fact that the text of those papyri which preserve fragments of surviving speeches is ‘rarely superior and sometimes markedly inferior to that of the medieval tradition’. ἣ πάντων τῶν κακῶν ἀποθανοῦσα (‘a death . . . of all my troubles’, lit. ‘who by dying’). Assuming the accuracy of this reading (there are manuscript variants, for which see Carey’s apparatus), then we are faced with a temporal clause (πειδD . . . τελε$τησε ‘when . . . died’) with a dependent relative but no main sentence. Possible remedies are discussed in detail by Carey (1989: 67–68). It is notable that Euphiletos seems to regard the death of his mother as a double loss: she was no longer around to keep an eye on her daughter-in-law, and her funeral proved the opportunity for the start of the affair. §8. ἐπ’ ἐκϕοράν (‘burial’). Ekphora (lit. ‘carrying out’ for burial) is that part of the funeral rite which took place on the third day after death, following the prothesis (laying-out of the body in the house of the deceased): details in Kurtz & 13

Cf. also Dem. 27.65, where the opponents’ treatment of Demosthenes’ sister is conﬂated with their treatment of Demosthenes himself.

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Boardman (1971: 144–146). For legislation (presumably sumptuary) limiting female attendance to close relatives and women aged over sixty, see Dem. 43.62–63. The extent to which the seclusion of women may have been a negotiable code rather than a social reality is noted at p. 55 n. 45 above, but it is very much in Euphiletos’ interests to represent his household as one of the utmost respectability, in which his wife would only leave the house for such proper purposes as funerals and religious festivals (cf. §20n). ὑπὸ τούτου τοῦ ἀνθρώπου (‘by this fellow’). Halbertsma (1862: 2) objected to the text here, claiming that such language was appropriate only to those present in court. This however takes insufﬁcient account of the inversion of rôles of deceased and defendant (see §1n), and also of the balance between hindsight and actor’s perspective noted at §§6–28n. Naming is one of the things that we learn only as Euphiletos learnt it: although Eratosthenes was named in the prologue (§4), both here and in §11 he is simply anthro¯pos; in the narrative, he is named for the ﬁrst time only at §16 when Euphiletos himself ﬁrst learns of his existence and his identity.14 ὀϕθεῖσα (‘was seen’). For the use of passive verbs here, see p. 53 above. We are not told (perhaps deliberately, cf. §20n), whether Eratosthenes was a complete bystander, or whether he had some reason for being present. Llewellyn-Jones (2003: 305) notes that normal practices of female veiling tended to be inverted during mourning, which might provide a suggestive context here, though I am not aware of speciﬁc evidence for unveiling during the ritual. χρόνῳ (‘eventually’). There is a strong emphasis throughout the narrative on the passage of time (§§10, 11, 15), but it is rarely made speciﬁc what the temporal intervals were (see, however, §22n). διαϕθείρεται (‘ruined’). In this overview of the course of events (§§6–8), the temporal perspective is simply that of hindsight, and we are told the whole course of the action at one blow. In §9 the temporal perspective shifts, and thereafter each example of hindsight is clearly demarcated. ἐπιτηρῶν (‘kept an eye out’). For the irony in this situation, see §16n. τὴν θεράπαιναν τὴν εἰς τὴν ἀγορὰν βαδίζουσαν (‘maid who did the shopping’, lit. ‘went to the Agora’). Some scholars (e.g. Randazzo 1974 [1957]: 58) have seen the participial phrase here and at §16 as serving to distinguish one maid from others, but linguistically it could as easily be a descriptive phrase applied to the household’s only maid (i.e. the one who did the shopping): for the signiﬁcance of this point, see p. 58 n. 56 above. For the rôle of the trusted maid as messenger between wife and lover, see Eurip. Hipp. 649–650, and cf.

14 Subsequent naming is linked to his confession at §19, the statement of his guilt at §23, and the discussion of entrapment at §40. Alternative forms of designation in addition to those listed here include §15 κε;νο (also §25 and §27), §24 ατ*ν (also §25), §37 τ ν νεανσκον, and §40 τ ν µοιχ*ν.

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Aristoph. Thesmo. 340–341. It is notable that Euphiletos’ wife is never described as shopping (cf. §8n π2 κφορα´ν), presumably because this would entail a loss of respectability; by contrast, a female slave has no such respectability to lose, so that shopping is something which she does either on her own or (hypothetically in §18) accompanying Euphiletos presumably to carry his purchases. Literary references to shopping both by citizens (always males) and also by slaves (also predominantly male, unlike here) are collected by Carey (1989: 68). Aristophanes and Theophrastos are mainly interested in shopping by citizens, presumably for reasons of literary genre: the former offers, for the most part, ﬁrst-person anecdotes by citizen speakers (Wasps, 788–791, and Birds, 501–503, while Lysist. 555– 559 contrasts the proposed behaviour of the women with that displayed by their menfolk), whereas for Theophrastos it is citizen shopping which gives more occasion for inappropriate behaviour (Char. 9.4, 10.12, 11.7, and 22.7; the sole counter-example being the distrustful man who sends a second slave to check the price paid by the ﬁrst, at Char. 18.2). But the impression of citizen shopping is reinforced by the Orators, where there is no such comic subtext (Lys. 24.20, Aiskhin. 1.65). For slave shopping, Carey cites also two Socratic passages from Xenophon which are of particular interest: Mem. 1.5.2 has agoraste¯s (‘marketgoer’) as the job-description of an individual slave in a hypothetical household, while Oikon. 8.22 suggests signiﬁcantly that it is Iskhomakhos’ wife who is envisaged as telling the slaves to buy anything she may require (as a wealthy woman, she is certainly expected not to do the shopping herself). λόγους προσϕέρων ἀπώλεσεν αὐτήν (‘put forward proposals, and corrupted her’). The object of this may be either the wife (as Lamb 1930: 7) or the maid (as Scodel 1986: 4). The phrase λ*γου προσφ ρω is in this context ambiguous: it means ‘to address words’ (LSJ s.v. προσφ ρω A.I.4); but this could refer to Eratosthenes catching the maid’s attention, or else sending a message to the wife or arranging an assignation. The use of ατν, however, suggests that Lamb’s interpretation is correct: there is no point in mentioning the maid again, so if Lysias is going to emphasise, it is probably the mistress that he is referring to. §9. οἰκίδιον ἔστι µοι διπλοῦν (‘my house is on two levels’). The form oikidion is diminutive, and can be used in contexts which emphasise the owner’s straitened means (e.g. Isai. 2.35 and Dem. 59.39, of houses valued at 3 and at 7 minas respectively), but it does not necessarily carry this implication here: Usher (Edwards & Usher 1985: 223) rightly observes that by no means all Athenian houses will have had two ﬂoors. This passage has attracted considerable attention,15 as one of the two fullest pieces of literary evidence (along with the much wealthier house of Iskhomakhos at Xen. Oikon. 9.2–5, on which see e.g. Pomeroy 1994: 291–300) for the internal organisation of a classical Athenian house. 15 See also p. 56 above, for its being quoted by the ancient rhetorical theorist Demetrios (On Style §190) as the classic example of the ‘plain style’ of oratory, and the implications of this for the reception and textual transmission of the speech.

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G. Morgan (1982) offers an attractive attempt to map Euphiletos’ description to the archaeological remains of one of the houses from the area near the Areiopagos (House D, exempli gratia); and a much-debated paper by Walker (1983) has sought to distinguish within the archaeological record between those rooms used by men and those used by women. Subsequent scholarship, however, has argued for greater versatility in the use of rooms than Walker’s model presupposes, and has suggested that gunaiko¯nitis (‘women’s rooms’)16 may denote a conceptually demarcated space rather than something with identiﬁable physical boundaries (Jameson 1990b: 172, 184; Nevett 1995b; 1999: 12–20).17 On the architecture, ﬂoors and rooms of Euphiletos’ house, see §9n; on related questions of social relationships, see §13n and §27n; the extent of compatibility between literary and archaeological evidence for various aspects of domestic arrangements is brieﬂy surveyed at pp. 54–55 above. ἴσα ἔχον τὰ ανω τοῖς κάτω (‘the upper ﬂoor has the same area as the ﬂoor underneath’). Interpretation here depends on the function of the κατα´ (lit. ‘according to’ the women’s and men’s rooms). If used distributively, it means that the entire ﬂoor area of both ﬂoors was identical, with the upper ﬂoor forming the gunaiko¯nitis and the lower one the andro¯nitis (Frohberger 1868: 114; FernándezGaliano 1953: 10 n. 4; implied also by Manthe 2000: 225); if used restrictively, as in my translation here, then it means that as far as the gunaiko¯nitis and the andro¯nitis were concerned, the ﬂoor area of both was identical (G. Morgan 1982: 116; Usher in Edwards & Usher 1985: 223; Edwards 1999: 69). ἐθήλαζεν (‘breast-fed’).18 A priori we would expect the employment of a wetnurse to imply at least moderate wealth, but it is hard to be sure how far its absence here indicates the contrary (see p. 58 above). An Athenian litigant who acknowledges that his putative mother had served as a wet-nurse clearly regards this as at best a sign of embarrassing poverty, while his opponents have evidently presented it as proof of non-citizen status (Dem. 57.35, 42, 44–45), but these are statements about the social standing of the employee rather than of the employer. For a comparative study of wet-nursing, see Fildes (1986: esp. 17–25 on Classical Greece; the same material forms the basis of Fildes 1988: 1–25, but with more speciﬁc reference to the literature). Wet-nursing in Athens has not been extensively studied, primarily because of the limitations of our evidence: we lack for 16 It has also been noted that the standard term for the room used by men e.g. for the symposion is not andro¯nitis (as here and at Xen. Oikon. 9.5, implying a plurality of rooms) but andro¯n (men’s room, singular: thus e.g. Jameson 1990b: 172). Nevett (1995a: 92) argues that the andro¯n is the one male room which can plausibly be identiﬁed archaeologically, both because of location and because of the comparative lavishness of its decoration. 17 ‘That ﬂexibility [in the use of architectural space] was the norm can be inferred from the fact that Euphiletos had to explain the arrangement of space within his house, but needed no defense for ﬂexibility’ (Antonaccio 1999–2000: 529). 18 Fernández-Galiano (1953: 10) notes that an ancient lexicon (Souda s.v. θηλα´ζειν, and there is a verbally identical text in Zonaras), which cites Lysias as using this word in the passive of a woman breast-feeding, may have been using a corrupt text of this passage.

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instance the papyrus contracts from Egypt or the large sample of tombstones from Rome that have provided the evidence for detailed studies by Bradley (1980; 1992), and the term is absent from the index of Demand’s Birth, Death and Motherhood in Classical Greece, where the discussion of infant feeding practice focuses instead on weaning (Demand 1994: 7). Iconographic depictions of a baby being fed are not common (the special circumstances of one exception are discussed by S. Lewis 2002: 39), but some pottery baby-feeders survive (discussion and illustrations in Neils & Oakley 2003: 230–233, who suggest the use of honey mixed with wine, rather than milk). ὁπότε λοῦσθαι δέοι (‘every time it needed washing’). This passage would seem to imply that the water supply is at ground level. One possible interpretation is that water is stored indoors but not worth transporting upstairs. But the fact that Euphiletos later appears to regard the noise of doors at night as surprising only insofar as this involves egress from the enclosed courtyard into the street (see §17n) may suggest that she needs regular access to the courtyard to draw water, either from a well, or else (noting that the speech takes place some time after the Thesmophoria in Oct/Nov, cf. §20) from some form of water-butt storing rainwater from the roof. It is possible that ‘wash’ is meant speciﬁcally, but the operation envisaged may well be a more general one: Strepsiades similarly used to pick up his infant son and rush him outside, to avoid causing a mess inside the house (Aristoph. Clouds, 1380–1385). Sanitary arrangements albeit for adults are the subject of two further passages in Aristophanes: a detached latrine is evidently envisaged by the story at Thesmo. 483–485; while Ekkles. 311–326 seems to imply defecation in the open air, though this may be a function of the humour of the situation. We would speak of ‘changing’ rather than of ‘washing’ a baby, but Greeks do not seem to have invented the nappy.19 κατὰ τῆς κλίµακος καταβαίνουσα (‘coming down the stairs’). ‘Stairs’ may be something of a euphemism here: G. Morgan (1982: 117) argues from archaeological evidence that stairs in Athenian houses were normally outdoors; and it may have been little more than an uncovered ladder giving direct access from the courtyard. αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες κάτω (‘and the women those downstairs’). This certainly would seem to give the women control of the entrance to the house, and there is presumably the risk that putting his wife on the ground ﬂoor like this could be seen by the audience as tantamount to making her a prostitute, though that can hardly be what Lysias is intending to imply here. (Usher 1999: 56 n. 11 suggests that he is trying to characterise himself here as a kind and thoughtful husband on the grounds that this would make him appear sympathetic to the jury, but the risk is that to a male audience he will simply appear weak.)

19

There is, however, archaeological evidence for potty-stools: Neils & Oakley (2003: 239–241).

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§10. συνειθισµένον (‘a matter of habit’). Oakley & Sinos (1993: 36 with n. 103) cite iconographic evidence and literary parallels for the marital bed being housed in the husband’s room (originally downstairs but now upstairs). It is not clear from this passage how often she would sleep there with him, though this certainly seems to have been expected on the night of his return at §11, in a passage which also implies that the baby routinely sleeps in the gunaiko¯nitis, presumably under the care of the maid. καὶ ταῦτα πολὺν χρόνον οὕτως . . . (‘things went on in this way for a long time’). This is the ﬁrst of Euphiletos’ asides made with the beneﬁt of afterthought (see §9n); it is also by far the longest, as if Lysias is worried that if the hint is not made fairly clear at ﬁrst then the jury may fail to pick it up. ἠλιθίως (‘simple-minded’). Usher (Edwards & Usher 1985: 223) describes this as a ‘bitter aside’, though the tone of delivery may equally have been rueful. Either way, it is an unnecessary inference to claim that this ‘marks him out as a man capable of anger’ (Edwards & Usher 1985: 220), cf. similarly §18n; the characterisation of Euphiletos is further discussed at pp. 50–52 above. σωϕρονεστάτην (‘most respectable’). The adjective so¯phro¯n and its cognates are most often predicated in the Orators of men (as at §38n), but there are some superlative female parallels, such as Alkibiades’ wife (Andok. 4.14), and those of the wives of the jurors who will object if Neaira is acquitted (Dem. 59.111). τῶν ἐν τῇ πόλει (‘of . . . the women in the polis’). I am inclined on balance to believe that Euphiletos and his family do live in Athens itself (see pp. 57–58 above), but this passage is not in itself conclusive evidence: polis can be used as at Isok. 10.35 to include the scattered villages of Attica, and the phrase here may be simply descriptive rather than serving to contrast women who are not in the polis.

First narrative sequence: Euphiletos’ unexpected return from the country (§§11–14) §11. προϊόντος δὲ τοῦ χρόνου (‘time passed by’). For the passage of time introducing the ﬁrst narrative sequence, see §§6–28n. Several scholars have noted the similarity between the following section of narrative and a passage quoted in Latin translation by the ﬁrst-century ad Roman rhetorician Rutilius Lupus 1.21 as an example of e¯thopoiïa or characterisation (Lys. frag. 443:20 as elsewhere in Rutilius, it is attributed by name to Lysias, but without identifying the speech).

20 Trans: ‘While I was returning home, gentlemen of the jury [iudices], as an old man, on a very hot day [lit. ‘in great heat’], scarcely able to bear the exertion of the journey, I nevertheless consoled myself with these words: “Bear this toil bravely. In a short time now you will arrive home, where you are expected. Your dutiful and loving wife will welcome you as a tired man. By her solicitous and gentle ministrations, she will take away your tiredness, and at the same time the strength of an elderly man will revive with nourishment.” This thought-process strengthened me during my journey, even though I was nearly worn out. Later, however, when I arrived home, I found none of these things, but instead a domestic war which had been raised up against me by my wife.’

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Naber (1905: 70) indeed suggested that there is a lacuna at this point in the manuscript tradition, and that Rutilius is quoting a missing part of our speech. More attractive in my view is the suggestion of Barabino (1967: 98–100), followed by Porter (1997: 446–447) and Edwards (1999: 62), that what Rutilius offers is a rather clumsy paraphrase or imitation of our passage, in which some details that are at best implicit have become reiﬁed (the assumption that a cuckolded husband should be elderly: contrast for instance the view of Frohberger 1868: 107 that the speaker is most naturally read as a young man because of his recent marriage), and others have been either distorted (expected versus unexpected arrival: Barabino) or represented over-explicitly (too much emphasis for this stage in the narrative on wife as plotter: Porter). ἧκον . . . ἐξ ἀγροῦ (‘I returned . . . from the countryside’). The repetition within this section of narrative (as indeed in the narrative as a whole) is striking, and serves to hold together the structure of the events. It is notable however that the repetition is never precise, but there are always small changes of words or of word-order. In this episode for instance \κον . . . ξ α2γρο' at the start of the story matches ]κων ξ α2γρο' (§13) which rounds off the events of the night; at ﬁrst Euphiletos’ wife is α2σµ νη (§12) to see him, but at the end it is his turn to sleep α%σµενο (§13). Compare the use of σι=πων and σιωπ^ in §14, and the striking construction of §17. ἀπροσδοκήτως (‘unexpectedly’). For the function of this detail in the story, see next-but-one note. The implication of §12 ]κοντα δια` χρ*νου (‘returned after so long’) is that Euphiletos is not simply getting home earlier than he had promised when he left that morning, but that he is getting home on an unexpected day. The question of how far such patterns of commuting are typical in Athenian agriculture is noted at p. 58 with n. 55 above. δεῖπνον (‘dinner’). In the Classical period Athenians appear to have had two meals per day: ariston (a light lunch, for which cf. 3.11n), and the main evening meal, deipnon (as here), in the evening. At some stage during the fourth century, this two-meal pattern gradually gave way to three meals per day: ariston and deipnon as before, with the addition of akratisma (breakfast) in the early morning. (For details see Sallares 1996.) It is notable that when Euphiletos dines on his own, his wife expects to be present;21 but when he has a friend to dinner, she does not attend. (See further §23n.) ὑπὸ τῆς θεραπαίνης ἐπίτηδες λυπούµενον (‘teased by the maid deliberately’). This is interpreted by some scholars22 as a signal from maid to wife to indicate Eratosthenes’ arrival during the course of dinner, but that would seem to be unnecessarily risky. So it is easier (with e.g. Trenkner 1958: 157) to take -νδον :ν 21 It is not clear whether she is eating or simply serving: for the general absence of ‘family meals’ from our literary sources, see Foxhall (2007: 240–242). 22 Thus e.g. Weissenberger (1993: 60–61), who as a result in my view overestimates the implausibility of §§11–14 (see however §14n), and perhaps also Wolpert (2001: 419).

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in the following sentence as meaning that he was already in the house when Euphiletos returned: this would mean that the maid is colluding with instructions given by her mistress presumably before the latter joins her husband, the (successful) aim being that Euphiletos will send his wife to sleep downstairs with the baby rather than remaining with him, thereby giving the lovers time together and the opportunity to let him out of the house. For the sleeping arrangements implied by this narrative, see §10n. §12. διὰ χρόνου (‘after so long’). He has evidently been away for at least several days (see §11n), as also on other occasions (see §20n). ὠργιζόµην . . . ἐκέλευον (‘I became angry and ordered her’). Usher (1965: 104 n. 31) takes this as a piece of characterisation, intended to portray Euphiletos as short-tempered, but see §10n and §18n. Albini (1952b: 9) notes that keleuo¯ can be used in a weaker sense to mean ‘invite’ as well as ‘order’, but see §27n. ἔϕη (‘she replied’). One of the striking features of Lys. 1 is the frequency and importance of direct speech,23 and in particular the fact that two of the three speakers to be so distinguished are women, with the only other example of female direct speech being the claimants’ mother at Lys. 32.12–13, 15–17.24 On the widely varying use of direct speech in different orators, see Trevett (1995: 126), who notes its relative frequency in Andokides, Aiskhines, and in the Apollodoran corpus within the private speeches of Demosthenes, and its rarity in Lysias outside these two speeches, but does not deal with questions of gender. Gagarin (2001: 163), on the other hand, discusses the attribution of speech in the Orators speciﬁcally to women, ﬁnding only nine examples longer than a few words, but includes passages of ‘indirect speech that seems closely to represent direct speech’.25 A possible explanation for Lysias’ particular readiness to attribute direct speech to women (as an attempt at characterisation in a system where he could not call them as witnesses) is suggested by Todd (1993: 201–203). The characterisation of Euphiletos’ wife (primarily through this episode at §§11–14) is discussed at p. 53 above. Like the other female speaker (the elderly slave at §16n), and unlike Euphiletos (see §18n, §21n and §26n), she is given a relatively informal diction: cf. for instance the striking use of the non-emphatic ατν at the end of a sentence. 23 Direct speech: §12 here, in the mouth of Euphiletos’ wife; §16 the old woman to Euphiletos; §18 Euphiletos to the maid, and similarly §21; §26 Euphiletos to Eratosthenes. (Indirect speech, by contrast, is found in Euphiletos’ order to his wife at §12, his enquiry and her response at §14, the maid’s response to questioning at §§19–20, Euphiletos’ dinner invitation to Sostratos at §22, and Eratosthenes’ admission and plea at §25 and §29.) 24 Her speech is notable also for its scale (82 + 126 words of direct speech, interspersed with indirect). There is a briefer piece of male direct speech at Lys. 32.9 (Diogeiton to the orphans, 37 words). The remaining speeches of Lysias yield only two examples of direct speech: 12.14 (Lysias to Damnippos, 32 words) and 28.6 (Ergokles to Thrasyboulos, 20 words). 25 Ant. 1.15–16 (indirect); Lys. 1.12–13 (direct and indirect); 1.16 (direct); 32.11 (indirect); 32.12–17 (direct interspersed with indirect); Dem. 47.57 (mainly direct); 55.24 (indirect); 59.110–111 (direct but future hypothesis); Hyp. Athenog. §§1–4 (indirect).

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πειρᾷς . . . εἷλκες (‘force your attentions on . . . made a grab at . . .’). For the sexual connotations of both verbs, see J. J. Henderson (1991 [1975]: 158 in detail on peirao¯; more brieﬂy p. 156 with n. 25 and pp.163–164 on helko¯), who suggests that the latter is probably a metaphor derived from wrestling, and notes that although the former only once in Old Comedy denotes actual rape (Aristoph. Wealth, 1067–1068), nevertheless its implications are nearly always non-consensual.26 Several recent scholars have read this text as in some sense a genuine indication of female protest (thus e.g. Johnstone 1998: 227; Patterson 1998: 167; and esp. Gagarin 2001: 174). As the latter points out, however, her voice exists only as invented or at least mediated for us through the words that Lysias gives to Euphiletos, so it is perhaps safer to explore instead the assumptions entrenched in his side of the narrative. On the one hand, Euphiletos regards sexual ﬁdelity as a one-sided duty which his wife owes to him (as indeed does the law: sexual relations between him and his own or anybody else’s female slave would not constitute moikheia). But it is not something that he is keen to ﬂaunt in front of her (compare Aristoph. Peace, 1136–1139, where Trygaios includes among the pleasures of peace-time existence that he can kiss the maid speciﬁcally while his wife is busy bathing, and cf. §13n κα2γ< µ&ν γ λων).27 Euphiletos’ wife, by contrast, will take measures where possible (see §13n τDν κλε;ν φ λκεται) to prevent her husband from sexually assaulting the servants, but she regards it—or at least this is how she is presented (by a male logographer and a male litigant in front of a male jury) as regarding it—as a matter for a joke rather than as a grievous attack on her honour (§13n προσποιουµ νη παζειν). µεθύων (‘when you were drunk’). Excessive drinking (both methuo¯ as here and more strongly paroineo¯ and cognates, as at §45, 3.19n, and esp. 4.8n) is found in the Orators both at Athens and abroad. In the latter context, drunkenness frequently serves to signify those who are being portrayed as barbarians or are being linked to them: thus e.g. Dem. 2.19 and 4.49 (Philip of Macedon in both passages), 23.114 (Kotys of Thrace), Dem. 19.198 and Aiskhin. 2.4 (Athenian ambassadors in two versions of an alleged diplomatic incident). When predicated of Athenians at Athens, on the other hand, it is usually associated with claims of violence committed by young élite males (e.g. Lys. frag. 279 Against Teisis §5; Dem. 54.5, 14, 16), and often with overtones of sexual predation in ﬁghts over boys and/or women (e.g. Lys. 3.6n, 3.12n, 3.19n; 4.8n), though it can also be used to describe female sexual debauchery (Dem. 59.33). What is unusual is to ﬁnd drunkenness predicated of the speaker himself: contrast Ant. 5.23–29, where pino¯ 26 Carey (1989: 70) notes the conjunction of helko¯ with hubrizo¯ and tupto¯ at Dem. 21.221, albeit in a context of physical rather than sexual violence. For the absence of consent in the present passage, compare §13n. On the availability of slaves for the sexual pleasure of their masters, see Finley (1980: 95–96). 27 Several passages in the Orators suggest that a man might refrain from bringing home prostitutes or a mistress out of respect for his wife (Dem. 59.22, with negative counter-example at Andok. 4.14), and cf. the assumption at Dem. 59.30 that two men getting married might be expected to give up their joint ownership of a slave whom they had jointly been keeping as their mistress.

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is used of both parties but methuo¯ only of the deceased (‘we were drinking’/‘he was drunk’).28 Telling a story against oneself can however be a clever trick, especially when the crucial detail is disarmed by putting it into the mouth of a third party. τὴν παιδίσκην (‘the slave-girl’). My use of ‘slave-girl’ here for paidiske¯ (lit. ‘young girl’) and ‘maid’ elsewhere in the speech for therapaina is intended not so much to catch the speciﬁc connotations, but to avoid imposing on the reader my own conclusion (for which see p. 58 above) that the two terms refer to the same person. There is admittedly one passage in the Orators which distinguishes between a paidiske¯ and two therapainai, presumably on the basis of age (Isai. 8.35), but in general the Orators seem to use paidiske¯ in contexts which (as here) emphasise sexual availability.29 §13. κἀγὼ µὲν ἐγέλων (‘I laughed’). There is a tone of mild embarrassment here (both in his response to his wife and in his implied acknowledgment to the jury of the truth of what she has said), but no more. For Lysias’ use of minor character-ﬂaws as a means of persuasion, see p. 51 n. 35 above. προσποιουµένη παίζειν (‘pretending to make a joke out of it’). She agrees to go, as Euphiletos has asked; the joke lies in her shutting the door and locking him in, which is therefore presumably something she would not normally do. τὴν κλεῖν ἐϕέλκεται (‘locked it’). It is implied at \κεν . . . α2ν ξεν (§14) that Euphiletos cannot get out until she releases him in the morning. There is some literary evidence for the locking of rooms used by women: Aristophanes regards it as normal practice for the gunaiko¯nitis (‘women’s rooms’) to be secured by the use of one or more seals and bars;30 and Xenophon mentions a gunaiko¯nitis separated by a locked door from the andro¯nitis (‘men’s rooms’).31 But given the consensus of recent scholarship (refs. at §9n οκδιον -στι µοι διπλο'ν) that the gunaiko¯nitis is more a conceptually than a physically demarcated space, it is worth noting also the suggestion reported at §9n κατα` τ8 κλµακο καταβανουσα that access to the upstairs storey of Euphiletos’ house (where he is now himself living)

28 Though pino¯ can be used in contexts where drinking is clearly excessive, as at Lys. 3.11n and 14.25. 29 Sexual availability provides a possible though not a certain context for paidiske¯ at Lys. frag. 188, and in the alleged abduction by Agoratos’ brother at Lys. 13.67. Elsewhere, paidiske¯ is used of a slave due to be purchased by an alleged brothel-keeper at Hyp. Athenog. §2; also of those destined for prostitution at Isai. 6.19, Dem. 59.18, and—albeit unlawfully—Dein. 1.23. 30 Aristoph. Thesmo. 414–415 (τα; γυναικωντισιν / σφραγ;δα πιβα´λλουσιν _δη κα µοχλο$): presumably an indication of current practice, even if we discount as a joke the suggestion that this is an innovation introduced because of Euripides. 31 Xen. Oikon. 9.5: θ$ρS βαλανωτ^: a balanos is a pin dropped into the mokhlos (bolt) to hold it in position (Pomeroy 1994: 297). A twofold purpose for the lock is reported in this passage: to prevent the unauthorized removal of goods (Pomeroy suggests textiles manufactured in the gunaiko¯nitis) and to control breeding among slaves.

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may have been by an outside staircase, and therefore directly from the courtyard. It is not clear whether what is envisaged in our text is a lock with a removable key, or a more primitive bolt that could be operated by anybody but in this case from the outside only.32 If Euphiletos is envisaging a bolt, then the implication embedded within a story that is admittedly ﬁctitious on several levels is that his wife is more worried about his getting out and getting hold of the maid than she is about the maid getting in and sleeping with Euphiletos, which would reinforce the non-consensual connotations of the sexual language noted at §12n. ασµενος, ἥκων ἐξ ἀγροῦ (‘perfectly satisﬁed after my return from the countryside’). It is not clear whether we are meant to assume that he is glad to be back at home, or tired out after a long day’s work, or both. For the use of repetition to close the ﬁrst stage in this episode, see §11n. §14. ἧκεν . . . ἀνέῳξεν (‘came and unlocked’). See §13n. ἐροµένου δέ µου (‘I asked’). The appearance of naïveté in the narrative here is deceptive: it sounds as if we are being told everything as it happened, but in fact the details are carefully selected for maximum impact. In particular, we are not told until later why it was signiﬁcant that both the doors made a noise, for which see §17n. ψοϕοῖεν (‘made a noise’). This may mean that they creaked (the speaker in a parallel though multiply ﬁctitious anecdote at Aristoph. Thesmo. 487 speaks of watering the door-sockets to avoid waking the sleeping husband), or possibly banged, but it is also possible that they are locked or barred on the inside: in this case the noise could have been that of unbarring the doors in order to open them for Eratosthenes to leave. ἐνάψασθαι (‘she had had it re-lit’). Reading the middle as causative (with Carey 1989: 71)—i.e. she sent the maid round—rather than reﬂexive (‘got herself a light’, as LSJ II followed by Edwards 1999: 58). This detail serves to explain why she had had to open the street door (see §17n), as well as the door into the courtyard, given that the latter could have been explained by e.g. needing to wash the baby. It is notable that neither now nor after subsequently discovering the affair does Euphiletos seem to have made discreet enquiries with his neighbour; but if his wife had been really far-sighted, she might well have put the lamp out herself, in order to give a reason for calling on the neighbour and at the same time

32 Linguistically either is possible here. G. Morgan (1982: 118 n. 7) himself prefers the latter, but acknowledges the suggestion of a referee that φ λκεται (‘to draw across’, LSJ III.3, i.e. ‘to fasten’ rather than ‘to remove’) could also be applied to the action of a ‘Lakonian’ key, of the sort evidently envisaged by Xenophon. Aristophanes’ language in 411 bc (esp. mokhlos, cf. last-but-one footnote) may imply the latter; on the other hand Xenophon’s account, which may be up to a few decades later than our speech and is set in a much wealthier household, seems to envisage some form of removable key (cf. immediately previous footnote).

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letting Eratosthenes out of the house. Either way, it suits Euphiletos’ pose of being slow on the uptake not to raise the possibility here. And of course, there is always the chance that not only the wife’s account but also her husband’s is a fabrication, in this case by Lysias.33 ἐσιώπων (‘I was silent’). Part of the reason for the success of this story is that Euphiletos is telling it against himself. His reaction to his wife’s explanation begins with σι=πων and ends in σιωπ^: it is clear that he will take no further action at this stage. ἐψιµυθιῶσθαι (‘had put make-up’). Athenian women used psimuthion (white lead) with which to paint themselves as a form of make-up, along with enkhousa (alkanet/bugloss, a plant extract) as a form of rouge: refs. in Carey (1989: 71) and in Pomeroy (1994: 305). The health implications of the former are alarming but there is no reason to believe that they were realised: Xenophon (Oikon. 10.2, 7) disapproves of the practice, but for moral or ideological rather than medical reasons. It is slightly odd (on my reading of Eratosthenes’ arrival time, cf. §11n) that it is in the morning rather than at the previous night’s dinner that Euphiletos notices this detail, unless we are supposed to assume that Eratosthenes had arrived too soon before Euphiletos for her to have had time to make herself up, or unless what he notices is traces on the skin left following inadequate efforts at removal and visible by the light of day. It is odd also that she should feel obliged to court the risk of discovery in the way that he describes here. However, Praxagora may reﬂect an assumption shared by the (male) audience when she describes perfume as a necessary adjunct to female sexual promiscuity (Aristoph., Ekkles., 522–526), which perhaps suggests that the detail is an invention by Lysias: the way in which Euphiletos tells the story against himself is particularly effective in establishing his credibility with the jury. οὔπω τριάκονθ’ ἡµέρας (‘not yet . . . for thirty days’). Presumably (thus Kurtz & Boardman 1971: 147) the period of mourning after which the family would resume normal life in the community. (Evidence for a variety of such periods of mourning at different dates and places throughout the Greek world is collected by Parker 1983: 37 with n. 17.) During this period a wife would not be expected to put on make-up for her husband—and certainly not in the early morning, or on a night in which she had not slept with him. It is notable that Lysias makes no attempt to exploit the pathos of such an apparently rapid sequence of family bereavements (cf. §§7–8), for instance to suggest that it compounded the enormity of Eratosthenes’ action.

33 Her story presupposes what may at ﬁrst sight be surprising, viz. that there is no other source of light available within Euphiletos’ own house, such as a ﬁre kept lit overnight: this could be designed to suggest that Euphiletos is so trusting that he does not question even an implausible detail, or alternatively his may be a house in which e.g. cooking was done on a portable brazier that would normally be extinguished overnight (see §27n).

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Second narrative sequence: Euphiletos is informed of the affair (§§15–21) §15. µετὰ δὲ ταῦτα (‘after this’). For the passage of time, see §§6–28n. πρεσβῦτις ανθρωπος (‘an old woman’). When used to denote an individual, and particularly a woman, the word anthro¯pos tends to be derogatory (Dover 1974: 283; Sosin 1997), with implications of low civic status:34 the probability therefore is that we are meant to think of her as a slave. If so, then it is notable that (just as in the case of Euphiletos’ own maid) no mention is made of any attempt to call for her evidence to be obtained under torture. Prima facie, the evidence of both women could have been useful for Euphiletos: the old woman could prove that the affair had started long before Euphiletos knew of it, whereas the maid could show that she had not acted as his agent in enticing Eratosthenes into the house. One reason for not trying to obtain the old woman’s evidence in this way is probably that noted by Thür (1977: 60 with n. 3), who points out that adversarial torture is a process designed to be used on the slaves of one or other litigant, not those of a third party; there is of course the additional problem that any challenge would entail identifying her mistress (cf. following note).35 ὑπὸ γυναικὸς ὑποπεµϕθεῖσα (‘secretly sent by a lady’).36 The silence over the identity of the woman with whom Eratosthenes had had this previous affair is unexplained, but perhaps not surprising: to have identiﬁed her even as ‘X’s wife/daughter’ would admittedly have added to the verisimilitude, but would have risked causing both social ructions and also legal ones (cf. the compulsory divorce rule, discussed at p. 48 with n. 24 above). On the other hand, the resulting absence of corroborative detail does raise the suspicion that both the mistress and her slave are convenient ﬁgures of ﬁction. ἐµοίχευεν (‘had committed adultery [with]’). The imperfect µοχευεν is used here rather than the aorist µοχευσεν, even though the affair appears to be over (cf. οκ τι Kµοω φοτα, ‘no longer came to visit her’): this may be intended to suggest that the damage once done by adultery continues for ever, thus preparing the way for §33. As a mode of conveying information, this has the additional advantage of providing splendid incidental and thus apparently impartial characterisation of Eratosthenes: here we see that he is faithless; and in §16 we shall 34 The clearest example in Lysias is the repeated use throughout Lys. 4 (refs at 4.1n). Elsewhere of female slaves: Ant. 1.17, Isai. 6.20; of a male slave, Dem. 48.16; of men whom the speaker affects to regard as servile, Lys. 30.28. Edwards (1999: 72) is rightly hesitant about the suggestion of Porter (1997: 422 n. 6) that the anthro¯pos here is being presented as ‘a former hetaira (courtesan) now earning her living as a mastropos (bawd)’, and himself suggests that the failure to name her here is a sign of her respectability, but it would seem more likely that this is to protect the respectability of her mistress (cf. below). 35 Explanations for the absence of Euphiletos’ maid’s evidence are discussed at p. 54 with n. 42 above. 36 Gune¯ is the standard word for an Athenian woman (usually married, cf. §31n): the connotations of Eng. ‘lady’ are not quite right, but it seems the best way in a fairly literal translation to avoid confusion with the anthro¯pos of §§15–16.

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discover—without Euphiletos himself having to tell us, because it is given as the direct speech of his victim’s agent—that Eratosthenes is a serial adulterer. ὡς ἐγὼ ὕστερον ἤκουον (‘as I later discovered’). He gives no indication of having tried to check the circumstantial details of the story before taking action, so he may be seeking to suggest that this is information obtained after the killing, either from his wife (in which case this is perhaps deliberately non-speciﬁc) or from the neighbours. For the rôle of gossip in the Orators, particularly as a mode of social control, see V. J. Hunter (1994: 96–119) and S. Lewis (1996: 9–23). §16. προσελθοῦσα οὖν µοι ἐγγὺς ἡ ανθρωπος τῆς οἰκίας τῆς ἐµῆς ἐπιτηροῦσα (‘she came up to me, the woman did, near to my house; she was keeping an eye on it’). The word-order of this sentence is intricately interwoven: γγ$ (‘near’) is divided from its dependent genitive by the subject of the sentence; and the second participle πιτηρο'σα (‘watching’) is the last word of its clause, although it is grammatically redundant. The word-order has worried some critics,37 but its effect is to give some of the naturalness of conversation, as if Euphiletos is thinking out his words as he goes along. ἐπιτηροῦσα (‘keeping an eye on it’). There is an ironical parallel here with §8: the start of the liaison took place as a result of Eratosthenes keeping an eye out for a maid (πιτηρν); the beginning of the end for the adulterer comes as a result of a slave-woman keeping an eye out for his victim. Εὐϕίλητε . . . (‘Euphiletos’). On the use of direct speech in Lys. 1, see §12n. A note of hesitancy is detected in this case by Vianello de Córdova (1990a [1980]: p. lvi), though the opening phrase µηδεµιa (rather than µ) πολυπραγµοσ$νb προσεληλυθ ναι (‘not . . . out of meddlesomeness have approached’) has a slightly portentous ring, and both Usher (in Edwards & Usher 1985: 224) and Edwards (1999: 72) regard the diction attributed to the old woman here as ‘artiﬁcial’ or ‘cumbersome’. However, to ﬁnd πρ σ at the end of a sentence is deﬁnitely conversational; and the non-corresponding κα . . . κα . . . (although perfectly clear) is not a literary phrase, so on balance I would tend to locate it rather closer to that placed in the mouth of Euphiletos’ wife at §12 than to the highly formal words given to Euphiletos himself at §18 and §25.38

Halbertsma (1862: 3) and Cobet (1863: p. xiv), for instance, both excised G α%νθρωπο, with the former explaining that it breaks up the ﬂow of the sentence; but as Frohberger (1868: 175) and Groeneboom (1924: 296) pointed out, this would create ambiguity as to whether the mistress or the slave is meant. 38 One curious feature of her speech is that µηδεµιa πολυπραγµοσ$νb προσεληλυθ ναι µε / ν*µιζε is capable of being scanned as a dactylic hexameter, albeit without a caesura and with uncomfortable enjambment. This however is by no means unique in the Orators: various Demosthenic parallels are collected by Naber (1905: 72), and discussed extensively in Blass (1893 [1877]): 137–140). For other examples of verse metre in Lysias, see p. 549 n. 29 below (iambics), and cf. also p. 33 n. 124 above (Dionysios of Halikarnassos on Lysias’ avoidance of metre). 37

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πολυπραγµοσύνῃ (‘out of meddlesomeness’). Polupragmosune¯ is noted by Christ (1998: 66) as the characteristic behaviour attributed to ‘sykophants’ or vexatious prosecutors (see further §44n), and which Athenian litigants regularly therefore disavow. Several scholars have noted that the speech given here to the old woman is constructed out of commonplaces frequently used by Athenian prosecutors. See most fully Gagarin (2001: 167–168), who notes in addition the claim that the opponent is a personal enemy who can properly be pursued for revenge rather than for ﬁnancial gain, and her categorisation of Eratosthenes’ behaviour in terms used also by Euphiletos as litigant (hubrizo¯ as at §2, §4, §25, and diaphtheiro¯ as at §4, §8, §38, cf. §33). ὁ ὑβρίζων εἰς σὲ καὶ τὴν σὴν γυναῖκα (‘the man who is committing hubris against you and your wife’). For hubrizo¯, see §4n. Damsté (1914: 197) wanted to emend κα τDν σν into κατα` τν, arguing that it is Euphiletos who is the victim of hubris (as at §4), whereas his wife has connived in the offence. The received text however has the support of an ancient lexicographer (Peri Suntaxeo¯s in Lexica Segueriana, p. 176.25–29 [Bekker]). It is certainly striking that she is portrayed here sympathetically as joint victim, or at least as victim-cum-pawn of the villain Eratosthenes, and this may be something that Lysias has chosen to place initially in the mouth of a speaker other than Euphiletos. In general, however, after the episode in which she hoodwinks her husband, she is portrayed with sympathetic silence rather than with repeated criticism (similar language is found, for instance, at §26 ε τDν γυνα;κα τDν µν). τὴν εἰς ἀγορὰν βαδίζουσαν (‘the one who does the shopping’). See §8n. βασανίσῃς (‘torture’). Torture was regarded at Athens as the appropriate way to extract information from a slave. To be admitted in court, indeed, a slave’s evidence had to be given under torture following a challenge issued by one litigant and accepted by his opponent; in the event, however, such challenges seem consistently to have been rejected (cf. 4.10n). We hear rather less in the speeches of torture as a form of private enterprise imposed by owners on their own slaves for withholding information, but the speaker in Dem. 48.14–21 regards its use in such contexts as perfectly proper, merely complaining that he should have been involved in it, as the current owner of part of the estate which had allegedly been defrauded by the slave in question. Ἐρατοσθένης ̓ Οῆθεν (‘Eratosthenes of Oe’). Like Euphiletos, we are hearing the name for the ﬁrst time since the narrative began (cf. §8n). On this occasion alone, Eratosthenes is identiﬁed by his deme, as a member of Oe, which is part of tribe VI Oineis. For the setting of this deme—until recently thought to be in the Thriasian plain above Eleusis, but now convincingly relocated to a site in the Mesogaia just east of ancient Sphettos and north of modern Koropi—see Traill (2003: 118–119). Demotics are mentioned in the Orators for a range of reasons. Sometimes it is done to conﬁrm or challenge a man’s citizen status, as at Lys. 13.73 and 23.2, but that of Eratosthenes will have been known to the court from the wording of the indictment. Alternatively it can serve to distinguish him from

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others of the same name (particularly common when introducing one’s in-laws, as at Lys. 19.15–16)—but Eratosthenes is a very rare name at Athens (the prosopographical implications of this are explored at pp. 59–60 above). It is possible that Lysias is here using the language of a formal indictment, attempting once again to cast Eratosthenes as the defendant (cf. e.g. §§1–2). He may, however, also be encouraging us to infer that despite the rareness of the name, Euphiletos did not previously know who Eratosthenes was, and therefore there had been no motive for the killing. οὐ µόνον . . . ἀλλὰ καὶ αλλας πολλάς (‘not only . . . but many others as well’). A neat piece of character assassination, placing in the mouth of a third party the implication that her mistress is not the ﬁrst woman to be seduced (and therefore presumably also jilted) by Eratosthenes; the very lack of detail is far more suggestive than a catalogue of names would have been. ταύτην γὰρ [τὴν] τέχνην ἔχει (‘he makes a hobby of it’). The meaning of the manuscripts would be, ‘he has this profession’; Bekker’s emendation makes the phrase far more effective: ‘he has this as a profession’ or ‘he makes this his profession’. For the metaphorical use of tekhne¯ (‘craft-skill’), compare 6.7n. §17. ταῦτα εἰποῦσα . . . ἐκείνη µὲν ἀπηλλάγη (‘she said this . . . and left me’). We might have expected τα'τα µ&ν επο'σα κενη α2πηλλα´γη or κενη µ&ν τα'τα επο'σα α2πηλλα´γη to match the γ< δ , but the delayed µ ν shortens the ﬁrst half of the sentence and thereby renders more striking the contrast: she went off (quickly), but Euphiletos was left thinking things through (at great length). The old woman has now served her purpose in the story, and Lysias wants to discard her as quickly as possible, in order to throw into the highest relief Euphiletos’ reaction. ἐγὼ δ’ εὐθέως ἐταραττόµην (‘at once I became alarmed’). Two forms of repetition are being used here to represent the process of Euphiletos’ thinking, and above all to control its pace: this is crucial to the defence, since Lysias needs to portray Euphiletos as a man slow on the uptake, but thereafter utterly convinced of the rightness of what he has to do. The ﬁrst of these is internal repetition within §17, which has worried some critics. Dobree (1874: 174), for instance, deleted the phrase κα πα´ντα µου ε τDν γν=µην εσOει, κα µεστ :ν 7ποψα, arguing that it arose by dittography of the ﬁnal sentence of §17. But the repetition here is not precise (κα πα´ντα µου ‘everything ’ becomes τα'τα´ µου πα´ντα ‘all of this ’), and the text as it stands makes Euphiletos’ own reaction into a complete and decisive unit. The second form of repetition takes place in the intervening catalogue of three memories, each of them referring back to the sequence of events previously described in §§11–14. In this case the repetition is external: several key words from the preceding narrative are picked up (ψιµυθισθαι, ψ*φει, the latter with added detail), so we can feel the events ﬂooding back into our mind just as they do for Euphiletos. The pace of recollection is controlled here also by varying the length and verbal structure of the three

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reported memories,39 which grammatically form two clauses rather than three, but the second clause is itself divided into two very unequal parts: νθυµο$µενο µ ν covers the locking of the bedroom, but α2ναµιµνbσκ*µενο δ serves to introduce both the noise of the doors and also the make-up.40 The memories therefore start quickly as Euphiletos begins to realise what is going on; they slow down with the episode of the doors (note the additional detail explaining which doors are meant, and the fact that this has never previously happened); by the time we get to the make-up, Euphiletos’ mind is itself made up, and rushing to its conclusion. Usher (Edwards & Usher 1985: 224, with more detail at 1965: 103) suggests that the variation in tenses here is intended to heighten the tension between Euphiletos’ own obsessive state (imperfect ταραττ*µην) and the old woman’s abrupt departure (aorist α2πηλλα´γη). ἡ µέταυλος θύρα καὶ ἡ αὔλειος (‘both the door of the house and the outer door’). This detail serves to explain what was left unexplained in §14. The metaulos thura is the door from the house into some form of unroofed but evidently enclosed courtyard; the auleios thura is the outer door ﬁrst approached from the street.41 Euphiletos had not been surprised to hear the metaulos thura opened: the reason for changing rooms with his wife had been to enable her to wash the baby downstairs (presumably requiring access to the courtyard, cf. §9n), without having to risk the stairs at night. But he had been surprised—and it is this that ‘had never happened before’—to hear the auleios thura being opened also, because of the implication that someone had gone out into the street. §18. ἐλθὼν δὲ οἴκαδε (‘returned home’). Once Euphiletos has made his mind up, he acts without further ado. There is no reference to any uncertainty, debate or decision-making in his own mind, because it is a function of his defence to suggest that he could have acted in no other way. ἐκέλευον ἀκολουθεῖν (‘told . . . to come . . . with me’). This is to enable Euphiletos to cross-examine the maid in private, without his wife realising that anything is going on. Shopping (or perhaps carrying the shopping-bags) evidently forms part of the maid’s regular duties (cf. §8 and §16), and Euphiletos’ instruction therefore arouses no suspicion either from her or from his wife. The elaborate precautions imply that he has already decided to catch the lovers red-handed; and indeed they suggest that from the ﬁrst he had the intention of setting some form of a trap for Eratosthenes. This is of course, as Usher observed (Edwards & Usher 1985: 221), a dangerous thing for Euphiletos to admit. But by suppressing the process of 39 Usher (1999: 57 with n. 14), as part of his argument that anger is key to Lysias’ characterisation of Euphiletos, regards the repeated µεστ :ν 7ποψα as evidence for ‘suddently released emotion, mirrored in the style’, but to my mind this under-plays the control of timing in §17. 40 The use of τε to link two phrases in -δοξ τ µοι is unusual, but Albini (1952b: 12) cites as parallels Lys. 13.1 and Syrianus’ reading of Lys. 32.1. 41 Thus Harpokration s.v. auleios (correctly identiﬁed as a reference to this passage by Blass 1887 [1868]: 571 n. 2), and similarly at Lys. 12.16. Harpokration’s entry s.v. metaulos refers explicitly to the present speech, but its description is less clearly phrased.

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decision (see previous note) and thereby ignoring any alternative course of action that Euphiletos might have taken, Lysias considerably reduces its impact. We are not supposed to ask him the question, ‘why did you not confront your wife with the evidence, and secure an admission from her?’ ὡς τῶν ἐπιτηδείων τινά (‘to the house of one of my friends’). Several scholars have found problematic the issue of conﬁdentiality here: what explanation for instance did Euphiletos give to the friend? Why does Lysias not make clear whether the latter was called as a witness, especially if he was present at the interview?42 How did Euphiletos plan to avoid the risk that the news that he had discovered his wife’s affair would leak back to her prematurely, e.g. through the friend’s slaves? Damsté (1888) indeed proposed τν πιτηδεων cνεκα (‘as if for the purpose of provisions’) but the idea of conducting such an interview in the open street is perhaps even more difﬁcult, and it seems best to regard the apparent absence of the putative friend’s evidence as an unexplained silence. σοὶ οὖν . . . ἔξεστι (‘so it is up to you’). Unlike his wife (see §12n), and to a greater extent than the old woman (see §16n), Euphiletos speaks in a very mannered style both to the maid here and elsewhere in the speech (cf. §21n), and also when he confronts Eratosthenes (see §26n). Here for instance we may notice the convoluted order of δυο;ν Kπ*τερον βο$λει /λ σθαι, and the chiasmus of ψε$σb δ& µηδ ν . . . τα2ληθ8 λ γε. Usher (1999: 57) reads the threat of violence here as a sign of impulsiveness, but it may rather be that such threats are considered to be the only language that slaves understand.43 Indeed, Euphiletos’ studied artiﬁciality of diction here seems designed to portray him as acting with full deliberation, just as in his language to Eratosthenes at §26. µαστιγωθεῖσαν (‘to be ﬂogged’). ‘Our only unequivocal instance of a serious threat [of physical punishment] made against a female slave’ (V. J. Hunter 1994: 173). εἰς µυλῶνα ἐµπεσεῖν (‘thrown into a mill’). Neither the rotary mill (whether animal- or human-operated) nor the water-mill is attested before the second century bc (Moritz 1958: 67). This will therefore have been a hand-operated mill, consisting either of a series of individual pestle-and-mortar-style querns (Moritz 1958: 34–41), or possibly of a ‘pushing’-mill, in which a grinding-stone is pushed backwards and forwards over a trough by several operators (Landels 1978: 15). Either way, the machinery was inefﬁcient, and its operation backbreaking (see Odyssey, 20.105–109). Being sent to work in a mill is regularly cited in our sources as a punishment for refractory slaves: e.g. Menander, Hero, 1–3 (note the leg-irons, appropriate to a hand-operated rather than a rotary mill); 42 Unless he is among those called at §29, but we would still expect this to be more clearly highlighted. 43 For the corporal punishment of slaves in Athenian sources, see V. J. Hunter (1994: 154–184). For the separation of this from anger, compare Ste Croix’s discussion (1981: 48–49) of the behaviour attributed to Plutarch by Aulus Gellius, 1.26.4–9.

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Dem. 45.33 (used to hint at opponent’s servile origins); and Eurip. Kyklops, 232–240. Wilamowitz (1923: 59) and Fernández-Galiano (1953: 18 n. 24) both infer from our passage that Euphiletos owned the mill in question, which would have signiﬁcant implications for his economic status (cf. p. 58 above). But on that logic, Libanios’ suggestion (Declam. 33.1.33) that any of his hearers would impose this penalty on an idle slave implies an entire jury made up of millowners. So presumably what Euphiletos envisages is either hiring or possibly selling her to the owner of the mill. §19. Ἐρατοσθένους (‘Eratosthenes’). The name of Eratosthenes has not been used since Euphiletos ﬁrst heard it in §16: once again, it has been saved up by Lysias to have a dramatic effect upon the person who hears it. πρὸς τὰ γόνατά µου πεσοῦσα (‘fell at my knees’). For the ritual of supplication in the Orators, see §27n. µηδὲν πείσεσθαι κακόν (‘that she would suffer no harm’). It has been suggested that this promise is designed to forestall the risk that he might be challenged to make her give evidence under torture (for which cf. §15n), but see p. 54 n. 42 above. §20. κατηγόρει . . . ὡς (‘she accused him of’, lit. ‘accused, that he had’). The verb normally used for a slave denouncing a criminal is me¯nuo¯ (for the offences covered by this procedure, see pp. 388–389 below). The use of kate¯goreo¯ here is striking though not unparalleled (similar language is used of another slave at Ant. 5.35), because it is the word normally given to a prosecutor—something for which qua slave, let alone qua woman, she did not have the independent standing. Just as the old woman uses language normally associated with prosecution (§16n), so here the maid is temporarily accorded that status: within the terms of the metaphor, therefore, Euphiletos does not have to assume this rôle, and can simply deliver and carry out the sentence. (For the presentation but also the subversion of Euphiletos as prosecutor, see §1nn, §26n.) µετὰ τὴν ἐκϕοράν (‘after the burial’). A careful selection of details is given here. Some are things that we have heard already (for instance this reference to the funeral as the start of the liaison, cf. §8), and serve to establish conﬁdence in Euphiletos, by showing us how he got the information on which he based the ﬂashes of hindsight in his previous narrative. Other details are otherwise unknown to us (for instance the reference to the Thesmophoria), and create the impression of a depth of background behind the episodes which have been narrated; we have clearly heard only a selection of Eratosthenes’ crimes. Θεσµοϕορίοις (‘during the Thesmophoria’). The Thesmophoria (details in Deubner 1966: 50–60, Parke 1977: 82–6) was one of several festivals conﬁned to women, and took place over a period of several days in the autumn (see following note.) Unlike the Adonia, which was open to slaves and hetairai (courtesans), and which reﬂected a stereotype of women as ‘loose’ and sexually dangerous, the

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Thesmophoria was aimed at, and indeed possibly conﬁned to, married citizen women (the contrast between these festivals is perceptively explored by Detienne 1977: 78–79). Certainly there is a close link between the Thesmophoria and the married status of women in the only two other occasions when the festival is mentioned in the Orators (Isai. 3.80; 8.19), so the appearance of the two women together here may be intended to suggest a quasi-public insult, or the connivance of Eratosthenes’ mother in her son’s affair. I am on balance not persuaded by the suggestion of Clinton (1996: 122) that the two women here are attending a local deme celebration in their capacity as wives of members of the same deme44—i.e. that Euphiletos is a member of Oe, just as Eratosthenes is— even though this certainly would cast an intriguing light on Euphiletos’ claim to have had no previous dealings with the deceased. The problem with this hypothesis is that even if we suspect that the two households were not so completely unknown and unconnected as we are led to believe (see further §8n and §16n),45 Euphiletos’ claim here has to be at least prima facie plausible to the audience, who would have been aware of his demotic from the indictment read out to the court at the start of the case.46 ἐµοῦ ἐν ἀγρῷ ὄντος (‘when I was out in the countryside’). The Thesmophoria took place in mid-Pyanopsion (Oct./Nov., depending on the vagaries of a lunar calendar). This was a time of peak agricultural production, as tabulated by Isager & Skydsgaard (1992: 161–163 at p. 162: autumn sowing of cereals and harvesting of olives),47 which may well be the reason for Euphiletos’ absence. His language certainly implies that he was away for at least the duration of the festival, which seems to have lasted three days. §21. ὅπως τοίνυν (‘you make sure’). For the stiffness of Euphiletos’ diction here, see §18n. It is interesting to note the frequency of legal terms in this speech to the maid: κ$ριον (‘binding’), µολογηµ νων (‘the terms of our agreement’), π’ ατοφ=ρ (‘caught in the act’: see below); he is already beginning to create an identity for himself as both prosecutor and judge (see further §26n, §29n). 44 Clinton’s view (1996) that the Thesmophoria was celebrated only in the demes, and that there was no city festival at all, has by no means won universal acceptance (see e.g. Robertson 1999: 8 with n. 25), but it is hard to avoid the conclusion that there were celebrations in at least some demes: certainly Halimous (Sch. Aristoph. Thesmo. 80) and Peiraieus (IG ii2, 1177); cf. generally Parker (1987: 142 with n. 45). 45 It is conceivable that Eratosthenes’ mother was vouching for Euphiletos’ wife, if this were the latter’s ﬁrst celebration, though the timing of her pregnancy would suggest she has been married over a year. Pregnant women are not known to have been excluded from the Thesmophoria (Parker 1983: 81–83), though they were excluded from certain other rites (details at Parker 1983: 49 with n. 64). 46 The size of all but the largest rural demes would make Euphiletos’ claim unlikely to be factually true even if they were members of different demes with one living in the deme of the other, though its falsity might have been less obvious to the audience than if they were members of the same deme. But on balance, it seems most likely that Euphiletos and Eratosthenes live in the city (see p. 57 with n. 53 above). 47 For other agricultural and ritual connections, particularly with the Apatouria, see Foxhall (1995: 76–77).

1. Killing of Eratosthenes: Commentary §§21–22

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ἐπ̓ αὐτοϕώρῳ (‘in the act’). Ep’ autopho¯ro¯i is a legal term normally associated with the procedure of apago¯ge¯ (summary arrest), for which at least in some cases it seems to have been a precondition (cf. the special pleading in Lys. 13.85–87). The precise signiﬁcance of the term is contested (see variously Hansen 1976: 48–53; D. Cohen 1983: 52–61; E. M. Harris 1994), but there is general agreement that the term can also be used in an extended sense to cover e.g. situations where a thief is arrested following a chase or a house-search in possession of stolen goods. Here however what Euphiletos wants is clearly to ﬁnd the lovers in bed together. For the possible connection between apago¯ge¯ and Euphiletos’ summary execution of Eratosthenes, see §28n. ὡµολόγει ταῦτα ποιήσειν (‘she agreed to do this’). The question of what might constitute entrapment is discussed at §§37–42 (see esp. §37n, §40n, and cf. also §22n and §23n). It is already evident that some form of trap is envisaged, even if this is simply a case of catching them in an act which would have taken place anyway, rather than enticing them to commit an offence which might not otherwise have occurred. But it is important to notice that he has at no stage speciﬁed what he intends to do when he catches them. The primary reason for this is presumably that he wants to avoid even suggesting that there were alternative courses of action open to him (cf. §18n), but it has the incidental effect of accustoming us to the idea of such a trap at a stage where its purpose (at least within the narrative) could be simply that of using the evidence obtained as the basis for prosecuting Eratosthenes rather than killing him.48

Third narrative sequence: the night of the killing (§§22–27) §22. καὶ µετὰ ταῦτα διεγένοντο . . . (‘after this there was an interval. . .’). This third sequence is again introduced by the passage of time (as at the start of §11 and of §15, cf. §§6–28n). Like the ﬁrst sequence, it begins with somebody’s arriving home unexpectedly and being given supper, and it continues into the night with Eratosthenes’ adultery. Here however the positions are ironically reversed: in the ﬁrst sequence Eratosthenes was in control; here it is Euphiletos. ἡµέραι τέτταρες ἢ πέντε, ὡς ἐγὼ µεγάλοις ὑµῖν τεκµηρίοις ἐπιδείξω (‘four or ﬁve days, as I shall bring clear evidence49 to show’). The majority of scholars have followed the suggestion of Reiske (1770–75.v: 25 n. 55a) that a lacuna should be placed after the comma, on the grounds that Lysias never does supply ‘clear evidence’ of the length of the interval, and that it is not clear why he should need to do so. Suggestions for ﬁlling the gap have included Reiske’s own summary of the circumstantial evidence κα π’ αυτοφ=ρ τ ν µοιχ ν -νδον -λαβον (‘and then I caught the adulterer red-handed inside my house’), or Thalheim’s assertion of 48 Erbse (1958: 57–58) notes that at this stage the evidence available to Euphiletos consisted entirely of women and slaves, none of whom could appear in court as witnesses. Admittedly citizen women could give evidence under oath, and slaves could do so under torture, but in either case the agreement of the opposition would be required, and this would hardly be forthcoming. 49 Lit. ‘great proofs/signs’: for the use of tekme¯rion in Lysias, see 4.12n.

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legality /ω γ< τDν κ τν ν*µων δκην -λαβον (‘until I exacted the penalty set by the laws’).50 The manuscript text, however, has been defended by Lämmli (1938: 68–69), and more recently by Carey (2002: 63–65),51 who notes the importance for Euphiletos’ defence of allowing the audience to infer that he took no action during this time, but without explicitly denying and therefore prematurely raising the question of entrapment.52 πρῶτον δὲ διηγήσασθαι βούλοµαι (‘but ﬁrst, I want to tell you’). The relationship between the narrative here and its recapitulation in the proof-section of the speech—and in particular the question of why the narrative here is introduced in such an incidental fashion and why its recapitulation is held back for so long—is discussed at §37n. Σώστρατος (‘Sostratos’). The name is fairly common (171 individuals in LGPN Attica), so there is no reason to identify him with e.g. the minor political ﬁgure of that name in Lys. 9.13 or the speaker’s opponent in Lys. frag. 277 Defence against Sostratos for hubris. It is perhaps slightly odd to have him introduced here so sharply, and with no connecting particle: we might have expected :ν γα´ρ µοι πιτδειο κα φλο, @ν*µατι Σ=στρατο, or the like. Scodel (1986: 8) suggests that Lysias here is trying to achieve a rapid ‘just the facts’ style. ἡλίου δεδυκότος (‘at sunset’). The device of repetition is used here again: a number of the phrases in this account are picked up when Lysias returns to this story to rebut the prosecution’s case (see §39n). οὐδὲν [αν] καταλήψοιτο οἴκοι τῶν ἐπιτηδείων (‘he would ﬁnd no food at home’). Taken on its own, epite¯deio¯n could either be masculine (‘friends’, or possibly ‘family’) or neuter (‘necessities’, i.e. ‘food’), with the choice depending on what is read in the rest of the sentence. The manuscript reading is οδ&ν α%ν, but most scholars have followed Bekker in deleting the particle (i.e. reading the optative as a function of indirect speech rather than unreal condition). Palaeographically, it is slightly easier to follow Bekker also in reading masc. οδ να, which would help explain the intrusive particle, and this is accepted by e.g. Hude. Carey (1989: 74) however suggests that the absence of food is a better reason for offering dinner than the absence of company, and that his friends would if anything be more rather than less likely to be at home after dark; and his text has been followed in my translation here. The suggestion of Schultz (1911: 631–632), (‘until I exacted the penalty laid down by the laws, not by means of plotting, but after catching the adulterer red-handed inside [my house]’), was rightly criticised by Carey (1989: 73–74), who at that stage accepted the lacuna, on the grounds that the issue of entrapment is avoided until the end of the narrative (see §27n and §37n). 51 Edwards (2005) similarly rejects the lacuna, but suggests reading ‘other evidence’ for ‘clear evidence’ (µ&ν α%λλοι for µεγα´λοι). 52 It is particularly important, of course, that the jury should not start wondering whether one of the things that he might have done during the interval was to consult Lysias at this early stage, only to receive advice to take direct action and an offer of a speech for free . . . . 50

1. Killing of Eratosthenes: Commentary §§22–23

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ἐκέλευον συνδειπνεῖν (‘asked him to come and have dinner with me’). For the times of meals in Athens, see §11n. For a woman to eat and drink in the presence of a man who is not a relative is regarded at Isai. 3.13–14 and at Dem. 59.48 as presumptive evidence that she is a hetaira (courtesan): hence Euphiletos’ wife’s absence on this occasion, in contrast to that earlier meal. Casual invitations to hospitality are not well attested in our sources,53 but Euphiletos’ action needs to appear normal to the audience, so we may assume that they were not uncommon. §23. καλῶς αὐτῷ εἶχεν (‘he had had a good meal’). ‘The polite formula for refusing an offer of more food’ (Scodel 1986: 8). ἐγὼ δ’ ἐκάθευδον . . . ἡ θεράπαινα ἐπεγείρασά µε (‘I went to bed . . . the maid woke me’). Euphiletos takes care to emphasise this point: if he had entrapped Eratosthenes into the house, he would have stayed awake. εἰσέρχεται . . . ϕράζει . . . (‘entered . . . said’). As the excitement mounts, Lysias shifts into the vivid use of the historic present. ἐπεγείρασά µε εὐθὺς ϕράζει ὅτι ἔνδον ἐστί (‘woke me at once and said that he was indoors’). Paoli (1958 [1950]: 47 n. 10) notes the close association between -νδον (‘indoors’) and the presence of a moikhos, on the basis of Aristoph. Thesmo. 397 and Ekkles. 225. It is not clear whether εθ$ qualiﬁes πεγερασα (as in my translation) or φρα´ζει; the difference in meaning would be slight. ἐπιµελεῖσθαι τῆς θύρας (‘to take care of the door’). Euphiletos here leaves it unclear precisely what the maid was to do with the door, and indeed which door is intended: was she meant to keep it locked so as to ensure that Eratosthenes did not escape before Euphiletos returned with his supporters, or to keep it unlocked so that they could get right into the bedroom before Eratosthenes had a chance either to defend himself or to escape to the hearth (on which see §27n) and invoke divine protection? From §24 it appears that the latter is more probable. σιωπῇ ἐξέρχοµαι (‘left my home in silence’). Euphiletos’ silent exit ironically combines the many occasions on which Eratosthenes has entered the house, and the silence with which Euphiletos himself had accepted his wife’s explanation of the noise of the doors in §14. Towards the climax of the story there is a lot of coming into and going out of the house (Eratosthenes εσ ρχεται, §23; Euphiletos ξ ρχοµαι, here; Euphiletos and the posse εσερχ*µεθα into the house and εσι*ντε into the bedroom, §24; Euphiletos asks Eratosthenes why he has εσι=ν, §25; and Eratosthenes had had no weapon with which to defend himself against τοZ εσελθ*ντα, §27). All this serves to stress the horror of Eratosthenes’ offence: in the words of Euphiletos himself in the middle of the sequence, Eratosthenes has committed hubris by entering into my oikia (§25). The theory of Paoli, that its 53 Of a rather different type are those at Xen. Symp. 1.4, and at Plato, Symp. 174a9–b1 (the latter from a fellow-guest rather than from the host), since in both cases the albeit last-minute invitation is to join an existing party. A closer parallel to the present passage is Aristoph. Peace 1140–1158, on which see Wilkins (2000: 204–205).

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location within the house was a key element in the legal deﬁnition of moikheia, is noted but rejected at p. 47 above. ὡς τὸν καὶ τόν . . . (‘at the houses of various friends’, lit. ‘of this one and of that one’). Once again, it is not until later that we discover the signiﬁcance of this detail: see §41n. τοὺς µὲν ἔνδον κατέλαβον, τοὺς δὲ οὐκ ἐπιδηµοῦντας ηὗρον (‘some I found at home [lit. ‘indoors’], but others I discovered were not in town’).54 Scholars since Reiske (1770–75.v: 27 n. 61) have been concerned at the apparent discrepancy between the manuscript here and what is said at §41, where Euphiletos describes how he had called on two of them only to discover that they were out of town (οκ πιδηµο'ντα), and had found others not at home (οκ -νδον dντα), but had collected those who were available. Most scholars have accepted Reiske’s own remedy, which was to emend §23 to match the ﬁrst two of the categories found at §41 (τοZ µ&ν <οκ> -νδον. . ., τοZ δ& οδ2 πιδηµο'ντα . . . ‘some not at home . . . others not even in town’).55 The manuscript reading of both passages has however been defended by Boegehold, on the grounds that there are often signiﬁcant variants in the use of repetition within this speech (Boegehold 2000, accepted in Carey’s OCT). Boegehold himself sees this variation mainly as an aspect of character-portrayal, but it may serve also to make it sound at §41 as if Euphiletos is simply referring back to something we already know, while at the same time introducing there a detail which is signiﬁcant for his defence against entrapment—i.e. that he wasted crucial time not only on those who had popped out for a drink, but on people who had been away all week—but which might have revealed his hand too obviously if mentioned as early as §23. §24. δᾷδας λαβόντες (‘picked up torches’). With shops doubling as private houses, it is perhaps anachronistic to speak of ‘opening hours’. Scodel (1986: 8) indeed suggests that the kape¯leion here is a tavern offering torches for the beneﬁt of inebriated patrons. The choice of detail is signiﬁcant: Euphiletos here tells us something that we do not really need to know, but which serves to make the narrative more vivid. He does not tell us something which we would have liked to know: how he and the posse armed themselves. Compare the lack of reference to the manner of Eratosthenes’ death (see §27n and §42n). ἀνεῳγµένης τῆς θύρας καὶ ὑπὸ τῆς ἀνθρώπου παρεσκευασµένης (‘the door was open, because [lit. “and”] it had been kept ready by the maid’). This is clearly 54 Epide¯meo¯ denotes residence in a community for a period of time, e.g. in contrast with being away on campaign (Lys. 20.21; Isai. 9.39). The community in question may be Athens (the city), though there seems no reason in principle why the word could not also denote residence in one’s deme village: it is certainly used of non-polis communities at Aiskhin. 3.128 (Macedonia) and at Dem. 34.34 (the emporion at the Bosporos). 55 Among the dissentients is Tarán (1996), who instead makes his emendation at §41, where he excises the negative before -νδον (thus ‘others at home’, to match §23). Edwards (1999: 75) rightly objects that this weakens the force of οκ πιδηµο'ντα (for which see the ﬁnal sentence of this note).

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separate from the ‘door of the bedroom’ mentioned later in the sentence, so it is probably the main door of the house (the metaulos thura, cf. §17), which is the one most likely to cause a noise and warn Eratosthenes of his danger; possible but less likely is the outer door to the street (the auleios thura). Francken (1865: 27) proposed to delete the 7π*, so that the passage would mean, ‘the door was open and the maid was ready’ (i.e. taking παρεσκευασµ νη as a description of her rather than of the door). But the passage as it stands makes perfectly good sense, if we interpret §23 to mean that Euphiletos wanted her to keep it unlocked, so as to make it easier to catch Eratosthenes actually in bed (see §23n). οἱ µὲν πρῶτοι εἰσιόντες ἔτι εἴδοµεν . . . (‘those of us who were ﬁrst to enter saw him still. . .’). This detail is important, because it serves to convince the court that Eratosthenes really had committed moikheia before his killing, rather than having been placed in a compromising position after death (see §27n). The question of whether (as I suspect) the homicide law required the lovers simply to be found in bed together—which would be fulﬁlled by the phrase παρα` τ^ γυναικ (‘beside my wife’)—or whether the law contained further clauses requiring them to be caught during the commission of the sexual act, is discussed at §30n. γυµνὸν ἑστηκότα (‘standing . . . unprotected’). There is a useful ambiguity here, with the same word meaning ‘naked’ (i.e. caught in an indefensibly compromising position, which is how it would naturally be read at this stage in the speech) but also ‘unarmed’ (which prepares the way for the proof section of the speech). The audience’s acceptance of the word here permits the later claim that Eratosthenes could not have escaped to the hearth (see §27n) because he had no means of defending himself (cf. also §42n). §25. πατάξας καταβάλλω (‘struck him . . . and knocked him down’). It is important for Lysias to make it clear from the narrative that Eratosthenes could not have escaped to the hearth or to the door (see §27n). διὰ τί ὑβρίζει εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν (‘why he had committed hubris against my house’). For hubris in this speech, see §2n. Since there is no credible answer that Eratosthenes could have given, Usher (1965: 104) reads this as a ‘somewhat gauche’ question intended to characterise Euphiletos. But the question leads to an admission which may serve an important rhetorical purpose, since part of Lysias’ strategy seems to be to represent the killing as being in some sense modelled on the right of the Eleven (Athenian ofﬁcials in charge of prisons) to execute without trial in cases of apago¯ge¯ (summary arrest) where the defendant acknowledged his guilt. There is indeed characterisation here, but not in Usher’s sense: Euphiletos is representing himself no longer as defendant or even as prosecutor (this rôle is to be fulﬁlled by ‘the law’, §26), but as surrogate for the Eleven acting on behalf of the polis. For the emphatic εσι=ν (‘entering’), see §23n. ἀδικεῖν µὲν ὡµολόγει (‘admitted his guilt’). Eratosthenes’ admission comes naturally within the narrative, because there is not much else he could have said

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in response to Euphiletos’ question. The legal signiﬁcance of this is not picked up until later (see §29n). ἠντεβόλει δὲ καὶ ἱκέτευε µὴ ἀποκτεῖναι (‘he begged and entreated me not to kill him’). Here and at §26 we ﬁnd the ﬁrst direct reference to Eratosthenes’ fate within the speech itself: contrast §1n, §4n, §5n, and §27n. ἀργύριον πράξασθαι (‘to accept compensation’). For the exaction of ﬁnancial compensation from a supposed moikhos, see e.g. Dem. 59.41, 65; Kallias frag. 1 and Kratinos frag. 81 Kassel & Austin; and other comic refs. discussed by Davidson (1997: 199–200 with n. 21). Such an offer in this case—for which we have of course only Euphiletos’ account of the conversation—deprives Eratosthenes (and therefore the prosecution) of the chance to plead that he was not liable to punishment as a moikhos. §26. οὐκ ἐγώ . . . ἀλλ’ ὁ τῆς πόλεως νόµος (‘not I . . . but rather the law of the city’). For the personiﬁcation, see most famously Plato (Crito, 50a6–54d1), where the laws are envisaged as delivering an extensive lecture on social contract; here similarly it is the rôle of the law in giving instruction (see §27n) that makes it responsible for Eratosthenes’ death. Given the date of these two works, there may be a link with the debate over the status of law that underlies the legal reforms of 410–400 bc (cf. §48n). For the explicit mention of killing, see last note but one. Euphiletos is beginning here to develop the picture that forms the heart of his defence: he is not a murderer, and this is not an action of personal revenge; it is the laws which condemned Eratosthenes to death, and he has acted merely as their agent. For the topos, compare Aristoph. Ekkles. 1055–1056; Anaxim. Rhet.Alex. 36.44 = 1444b17–18. εἰς τὴν γυναῖκα τὴν ἐµήν (‘against my wife’). For the representation of his wife as fellow-victim, compare §16n, and see also p. 53 above. ἢ τοῖς νόµοις πείθεσθαι καὶ κόσµιος εἶναι (‘rather than to behave as a responsible citizen and to obey the laws’). To describe somebody as kosmios (‘responsible’ or perhaps ‘orderly’) is always a term of praise in the Orators,56 and is a particular favourite of Lysias (accounting for 15 of its 36 appearances in the Orators). It tends to be associated with democracy (though Lys. 7.41 claims somewhat provocatively that he behaved like this under the oligarchy as well), in contrast to the would-be oligarch whose hubris seeks to set itself above the law (for the link between moikheia and hubris, see §2n and §37n). Throughout this speech, however, politics is kept in the background; if Eratosthenes the adulterer is indeed a close relative of his namesake the tyrant (see pp. 59–60 above), Lysias is leaving it to the prosecution to invite opprobrium by raising the subject. 56 For the use of the term in institutional contexts in 4th-cent. Athens, see Rhodes (1981: 504–505), who notes the rôle given to eukosmia (good order) in public meetings, whether of the Boule¯ and Assembly or in the theatre, and the title of Kosme¯te¯s given to the public ofﬁcial supervising the ephebes.

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§27. οὕτως . . . ἐκεῖνος τούτων ἔτυχεν (‘thus it was . . . that this man met the fate’). Johnstone (1999: 53) notes the suppression here of the name not just of the agent (‘this man’) but also of the sexual act itself (‘those who do such things’), but perhaps the most striking of Lysias’ narrative omissions is that there is no account of the actual killing; and indeed, Euphiletos nowhere speciﬁcally says that what he did was to kill Eratosthenes. The initial word here neatly disguises the ellipse; it sounds as if Lysias is summarising what he has told us, but in fact this is not the case. Considerable attention is paid to the capture and the interrogation; the killing itself is passed over in one brief, generalised, and rather formal sentence; and Euphiletos quickly moves to rebutting the charges against him. We may note in passing that it is not simply at this point in the story that the manner of death is suppressed: there is no reference in §24 to any weapons which the posse carried, presumably because to have mentioned this would have involved narrating the killing itself (see however §42n). Why the narrative of the killing is suppressed is another matter. The suggestion of D. Cohen, that the law cited at §28 might have contained a clause banning the use of a knife, is intriguing but highly speculative (see §49n). My own inclination is to see here a combination of two factors, both connected with Lysias’ prior decision to present the killing as execution rather than as crime of passion. In the ﬁrst place, to recount the killing would entail a narrative so one-sided that it would be hard to present it sympathetically. More speciﬁcally, however, it is characteristic of Athenian orators to mention the execution of citizens only in euphemisms and without detail (Todd 2000b: 36–37, and cf. 44–45 on the contrast with the use of apotumpanismos to execute Agoratos’ non-citizen brothers at Lys. 13.67–68). ὧνπερ οἱ νόµοι κελεύουσι (‘which the laws prescribe’). There is a useful ambiguity in the verb keleuo¯, which is used with particular frequency in this speech.57 The law ‘ordains’ that the death-penalty can be used against adulterers, but it does not ‘command’ that such a penalty must be used. Lysias is using the truth of the ﬁrst meaning to suggest that the second must be true also, and is thereby preparing the ground for the ﬁnal words of the speech (see §49n, §50n). οὐκ εἰσαρπασθεὶς ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ (‘not snatched in from the road’). The narrative closes with a short argument designed to rebut (part of) the prosecution’s case (§§27–28), and then the transition to the proof proper (§28). Lysias has been careful to delay this statement of the charges until now, rather than to refute them during the course of the narrative, thereby encouraging us to absorb the whole story from Euphiletos’ perspective before we become aware that there might be 57 Used of the laws ordaining a legal remedy (also at §32, §34 [not just acquitted (α2πεγνωκ*τε) but commanded action], §49, cf. also §35 [parakeleuomai]). Used of real or hypothetical instructions or requests between individuals: (a) Euphiletos to his wife about the baby (§12, twice), (b) Euphiletos to the maid (§18, §37, §38), (c) the maid to Euphiletos (§19), (d) Euphiletos to Sostratos (§22, §40), (e) Euphiletos to the posse (§41). Albini (cited at §12n) notes that keleuo¯ can be used in a weak sense to mean ‘invite’ rather than ‘command’, but I suspect this is more plausible in e.g. cases (c) and (d ) than in cases (a) and (b), and that Lysias does not want us to distinguish the two meanings in what he says about the laws.

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alternative versions. Reading this passage in the context of the speech, it is possible that the prosecution’s claim here should be associated with the much more dangerous charge of entrapment (i.e. that he was led past the house by a false message with no intention of entering it, only to be jumped on by Euphiletos and his friends),58 which is not mentioned directly until §37. Lysias, however, is careful here to have the prosecutors use language that is both ambiguous and at least superﬁcially self-refuting:59 if they are claiming that Eratosthenes had put up enough of a ﬁght to be able at least temporarily to escape his attackers, then he can hardly have escaped both to the hearth and to the street; if however they are claiming that he was (at least on this occasion) an innocent passer-by rather than an adulterer, then he would hardly have been given the chance to get to the hearth. ἐπὶ τὴν ἑστίαν καταϕυγών (‘taken refuge at the hearth’). Hestia (the hearth) is in Greek literature a place of religious signiﬁcance, being indeed the name of a goddess. Vernant (1983: 127–175), in an important study of the relationship between Hestia and Hermes, represents the former as a ﬁxed feminine point at the symbolic centre of the house, with the masculine Hermes being responsible for movement and communication with the outside world. Archaeologically, however, ﬁxed hearths are largely absent from Classical Greek houses—Jameson (1990a: 98–99) notes that portable braziers or small ﬁres seem to have been the preferred means of heating and cooking60—which suggests that it may be more a conceptual than a physical space within the house, though Carey’s argument (1989: 76) that it is unlikely to have been located in the bedroom would presumably apply to conceptual space also. Whether conceptual or physical, it is perhaps signiﬁcant that the hearth is linked with rituals connected with childbirth and also marriage:61 these associations make it a singularly insulting place for Eratosthenes to have taken refuge. For the hearth as a context of religious supplication, compare Thuc. 1.136.3 (set in the Molossian royal household); cf. also Andok. 1.44, where the term hestia is used evidently to denote a public altar in the bouleute¯rion (MacDowell 1962: 93–94). The present passage is

58 The reconstruction of the prosecution’s case offered by Desbourdes (1990: 104–105) perhaps goes too far in suggesting that Euphiletos sent the maid to invite Eratosthenes to dinner at the house of a third party to whom she claimed to belong; after all, she was not unknown to him (§8). 59 Their own statement of claim may of course have been phrased in ways that avoided this appearance: e.g. ‘Given that Eratosthenes is no longer available to tell his story, how do we know that he had not escaped to the street or to the hearth?’ 60 Foxhall (2007: 234) indeed argues that ﬁxed hearths in private domestic contexts are an Archaic rather than a Classical feature. For the limited compatibility between literary and material evidence for domestic arrangements, see pp. 54–55 above. 61 Childbirth: the amphidromia, at which the father carried the baby round the hearth (Harpokration s.v., citing Lys. frag. 22 Against Antigenes on the Abortion). Marriage: Harpok. s.v. katakhusmata makes clear that this ritual (the throwing of nuts, etc.), which is said to have taken place at the hearth (Aristoph. Wealth, 793–794), was carried out not just for a newly-purchased slave but also for a newlymarried wife. Jameson (1990a: 95) notes that the ﬁre used for cooking serves also for communication with the gods, making this an appropriate site for supplication (below).

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interpreted by Naiden (2004: 73) as an example of supplication with both divine and human elements, in which Eratosthenes tries to reach the hearth but is prevented, and then tries to supplicate Euphiletos personally but is rebuffed. The concept of sanctuary at Athens was not absolute—Kallistratos was executed, according to Lyk. 1.93, when he returned to Athens and took refuge at the Altar of the Twelve Gods—but his removal evidently had ofﬁcial sanction: the apparent implication of the narrative here is that while Euphiletos was within his rights to refuse Eratosthenes’ personal appeal, it would have been sacrilegious for him as a private individual to kill Eratosthenes if he had managed to reach the hearth. οὗτοι (‘these men’). As often in forensic speeches, this is used in a hostile sense to refer to the speaker’s opponents. πῶς γὰρ αν (‘how could he’). Sc. κατ φυγεν: ‘how could he have escaped?’ Once again, it is not until this point in the proof that the details of the narrative turn out to have been signiﬁcant: Eratosthenes had no forewarning (§23n); he was unarmed (§24n); and he was struck down and interrogated before he could offer any resistance (§25n). §28. οἶµαι καὶ ὑµᾶς εἰδέναι (‘I am sure that you too realise’). The narrative is neatly terminated by a gno¯me¯, a moralising generalisation, which paves the way for the transition to the proof. Bateman (1958a: 49–50) notes that such gno¯mai are rather less common in Lysias than in some of the other orators (in particular Antiphon and Demosthenes), but here it serves an important function at the climax of the narrative, indeed a function that is unique in Lysias’ speeches: it simultaneously refutes the opponents’ arguments and by implication exposes the malignity of their motives (for details see below); ‘this is a lot of weight for a maxim to bear’ (Bateman 1958a: 53).

§§28–46 Proof This falls into two parts, arguments designed to support the speaker’s own case (apodeixis or conﬁrmatio, §§28–36) and arguments designed to weaken the opponents’ case (lusis or refutatio, §§37–46); but it is worth noting also that there has already been a short, informal refutation at the end of the narrative (§§27–28).

First legal argument: moikheia or apago¯ge¯ ? (§§28–29) §28. ἀνάγνωθι τὸν νόµον (‘read out the law’). As usual in the speeches of the Orators, we can only infer what was read out by the clerk of the court at this point, because the texts of laws (and indeed the statements of witnesses) were not of sufﬁcient interest to copyists to have been included in our manuscripts.62

62 There are a few exceptions, mainly in the corpus of Demosthenes, though even those are of contested authenticity. The only Lysianic exceptions are in Lys. 10, where the archaising terms within the texts quoted are integral to the speaker’s argument.

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ΝΟΜΟΣ (‘LAW’). Euphiletos defends his killing of Eratosthenes by citing three laws, the third of which is used as the basis of an a fortiori argument about sexual assault at §§32–33, whereas the ﬁrst two seem more directly relevant to the circumstances of the case.63 The second of these, as we shall see at §30n, can be identiﬁed with some conﬁdence as a law dealing with justiﬁable homicide, but the identity of the ﬁrst law here is less certain precisely because Euphiletos says much less about it. Indeed, rather than discussing the law in any detail, he simply goes on at §29 to reiterate the point already emphasised in the narrative at §25, that Eratosthenes had confessed his guilt and had begged not to be killed. The conventional view, which has been defended by Carey (1995b: 412), is that the law read out here is one dealing with moikheia.64 This is certainly possible, though, as Carey notes, it would suggest the inference ‘that it was a precondition for the exercise of this right under the nomos moikheias that the individual apprehended should not only be taken in the act but should also admit to the charge’, which is something for which we have no direct independent evidence.65 The alternative, for which I have in the past expressed some support (Todd 1993: 276–278), is the view proposed originally by Paoli (1950: 153) and reiterated by D. Cohen (1991a: 110–113), that the law cited here may instead be one dealing with apago¯ge¯ or summary arrest of kakourgoi (malefactors). In favour of this view, as Cohen notes, is the well-attested link between apago¯ge¯ and the summary execution of those who did not contest their guilt, which might explain the emphasis on Eratosthenes’ admission (§25n, §29n). Against it are the arguments that the case for the formal classiﬁcation of moikhoi as kakourgoi rests on the interpretation of one contested passage (Aiskhin. 1.90–91),66 and that summary execution in apago¯ge¯ was carried out by the Eleven as public ofﬁcials rather than by a private individual. I am not convinced, however, that these objections are necessarily decisive. If moikhoi were mentioned in the apago¯ge¯ law, then the case is surely a strong one: Demosthenes certainly provides evidence for the right of private individuals summarily to kill night-time thieves (themselves a category of kakourgoi) in a context that he links closely with apago¯ge¯, which may suggest that the apago¯ge¯ law mentioned other instances also in which this additional right was 63 The question of why he feels the need to cite two relevant laws has puzzled some scholars (e.g. Cantarella 1991: 291–292, who offers a reconstruction based on the passage of Lucian quoted at §30n), but it is not uncommon for Athenian Orators to cite multiple laws (e.g. Lys. 14.5, 7). 64 For moikheia, see pp. 46–49 above. Recent reconstructions of the law dealing with it are offered by D. Cohen (1984; 1991a: 113–121); Cantarella (1991); Kapparis (1995b); Schmitz (1997). We hear of a nomos moikheias at Dem. 59.87, but this does not necessarily prove that there was a single such statute. 65 The question of whether the moikheia law putatively cited here restricted in any way the right of the captor to maltreat the moikhos (e.g. by banning killing, or banning the use of a knife) is discussed at §49n. 66 The interpretation of Aiskhin. 1.90–91 is discussed by Hansen (1976: 44–45 and 1981: 22–23, arguing for moikhoi as kakourgoi), and by E. M. Harris (1990: 376–377, arguing against). Euphiletos’ limited jurisdiction as a private individual is noted by E. M. Harris (1990: 376 n. 27), who also argues but in my view less successfully against the signiﬁcance of Eratosthenes’ admission of guilt, which he sees as simply ‘a preliminary step in his attempt to convince Euphiletos to accept his offer of compensation’: that would work for §25, but hardly needs to be reiterated so emphatically at §29.

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available.67 Even if not, then the fact that Aiskhines can list moikhoi in the same breath as other offenders who clearly were liable to apago¯ge¯ suggests some degree of popular feeling that moikhoi were a category of offender for whom apago¯ge¯ ought to be appropriate. And even if the apago¯ge¯ law made no mention of moikhoi and no mention of the right to kill night-time thieves, it is worth noting that a key element in the strategy of this speech is precisely to elide the distinction between public and private summary justice, by representing Euphiletos as acting as agent of the polis and its laws (cf. §1n, §26n)—though it would admittedly be a bold stroke even by Lysias’ standards to open his discussion of the laws by citing one which did not on that hypothesis deal with the case at issue or authorise what Euphiletos has done. §29. ὡµολόγει ἀδικεῖν . . . ἠντεβόλει καὶ ἱκέτευεν (‘he agreed that he was guilty and he begged and pleaded’). Repetition is used to bind the proof to the narrative: compare α2δικε;ν µ&ν µολ*γει, Iντ βολεν δ& κα !κ τευεν (§25). Once again, however, the repetition is not verbally identical; and details which in the narrative had seemed identical turn out to have additional signiﬁcance. ὅπως µὲν µὴ ἀποθάνῃ (‘not to be killed’). Compare §25n. τῷ µὲν ἐκείνου τιµήµατι (‘his proposal’). An allusion to the process of time¯sis, used following conviction in cases where there was no statutory penalty: in such cases, both litigants would propose an alternative penalty (time¯ma, as here), leaving the court to vote for one or other proposal but without the option of compromising between them. See in outline Todd (1993: 400), and in more detail Harrison (1968–71.ii: 80–82). Once again (cf. §21n), the frequency of legal terms in §29 (κυρι=τερον, δκην) serves to conﬁrm the construction of Euphiletos as both prosecutor and judge. τὸν δὲ τῆς πόλεως νόµον (‘the law of the city’). As Bateman (1962: 171–2) points out, this is a carefully-constructed false parallel. We expect him to say, ‘I did not agree to his proposal, but I set the penalty at death’; in fact he makes ‘the law’ into the subject of the second clause. εἶναι κυριώτερον (‘have greater authority’, lit. ‘should be more authoritative’). Note again the legal terminology here (see last note but one): a kurios law is one that is valid as opposed to one that has been repealed; to have let Eratosthenes off, Euphiletos implies, would have been to invalidate the law. For the term kurios, see also §36n. For the danger of ‘erasing’ a law, see §48n. ταύτην ἔλαβον τὴν δίκην (‘I exacted from him that penalty’). For δκη as ‘penalty’, see LSJ s.v. IV.b.3. The combination with δικαιοτα´την (‘the dike¯ which you believe 67 Dem. 24.113: ε δ τι ν$κτωρ Kτιο'ν κλ πτοι. (It may be signiﬁcant that night-time thieves are not mentioned at Dem. 23.54–56, so the right to kill them seems to stem from some source other than the justiﬁable homicide law.) It would certainly add a certain irony to the already outrageous claim that thieves (kleptai) will claim to be moikhoi if Euphiletos is acquitted (§36).

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to be most dikaios’) is very effective, even if it is a misrepresentation: it is, after all, only one of a range of penalties available in such circumstances (a point which Lysias is trying throughout this speech to suppress). ΜΑΡΤΥΡΕΣ (‘WITNESSES’). As often, we have no way of telling precisely which (if any) of the pieces of information in the narrative are being conﬁrmed by these witnesses.

Second legal argument: justiﬁable homicide (§§30–31) §30. τοῦτον τὸν νόµον <τὸν> ἐκ τῆς στήλης (‘this law . . . the one from the inscription’). I have discussed elsewhere (Todd 1996: 120–131, with refs. esp. at p. 123 and pp. 129–30) the fact that orators who cite laws rarely tell us their provenance, but do on occasions specify that this is an individual ste¯le¯ or inscribed stone, and do not—at least in the case of laws—claim to be quoting from the text in the Me¯tro¯on, which served as a repository for state-documents probably on wooden tablets or papyri from 403 at the latest. To my mind this suggests that the Orators and their audience tend to identify the law with the inscribed text. For a detailed study, which takes a much more positive view of Athenian public record-keeping and of the Me¯tro¯on as a genuine and searchable state-archive, see Sickinger (2004). ΝΟΜΟΣ (‘LAW’). The reference to the Areiopagos as the location of this ste¯le¯ strongly suggests a law dealing with some form of homicide rather than with e.g. moikheia.68 At ﬁrst sight the obvious candidate would seem to be the 409/8 republication of Drakon’s homicide law, though there are problems with straightforward identiﬁcation, given that the latter was to be set up ‘on a ste¯le¯ in front of the Stoa of the Basileus’ (IG i3, 104.7–8).69 Although the texts of Lysias’ laws do not appear in our manuscripts (cf. §28n), nevertheless this time he discusses its contents in some detail, claiming that he is quoting from it explicitly (διαρρδην). This allows it plausibly to be identiﬁed with a law on justiﬁable homicide which appears in our manuscripts of Dem. 23.53—such texts are not always reliable, but Demosthenes’ extensive quotations at 23.54–56 serve as a check on the accuracy

68 Legislative inscriptions at Athens were often set up on the Acropolis or (after the mid-4th cent.) the Agora, but where other locations were chosen, this seems to have been for reasons connected with content or jurisdiction (Liddel 2003: examples at p. 82 and p. 84). Underlying the location chosen for IG i3, 104 (see above), for instance, will have been the fact that the Basileus was the one of the Nine Arkhons who presided over homicide trials. 69 The same problem arises with ‘the nomos from the nomoi about homicide from the Areiopagos’ cited by the speaker of Dem. 23.22, unless IG i3, 104 had been moved or duplicated in the intervening period (no more than a couple of decades in the case of Lys. 1.30), or unless both orators are describing the location very loosely (the latter possibility is noted by Carey 1989: 78, but the Stoa of the Basileus is on the north-west side of the Agora, away from the Areiopagos). We might have expected the law at Lys. 1.30 (unlike the one at Dem. 23.22) to have been erected at the Delphinion, as the court with jurisdiction speciﬁcally over justiﬁable homicide, but this may suggest either that the laws dealing with homicide were felt to form a group best kept together, or else that the Areiopagos was felt to have an over-riding jurisdiction in homicide matters which made it a more proper location.

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of what is for us the crucial clause,70 if not necessarily its completeness71—because of the overlap of two phrases between Lysias’ discussion and Demosthenes’ quotations. Demosthenes’ text runs as follows: α´ν τι α2ποκτενb ν α%θλοι α%κων, e ν Kδ καθελ=ν, e ν πολ µ α2γνοσα, e π δα´µαρτι e π µητρ e π’ α2δελφ^ e π θυγατρ e π παλλακ^ fν αgν π’ λευθ ροι παισν -χb, το$των cνεκα µD φε$γειν κτεναντα (‘if a man kills another [a] by mistake at the games, or [b] catching him on the highway, or [c] unwittingly in war, or [d] with his wife, or his mother, or his sister, or his daughter, or his concubine kept for the purpose of free children, he shall not be exiled [or possibly, “put on trial”] as a homicide for these things’).72 Lysias’ overlapping phrases—π δα´µαρτι (‘with his wife’, §30) and παλλακ (‘concubine’, §31)—certainly suggest that it is the same law, but comparison with the much more complete Demosthenic text allows us also to observe Lysias’ manipulation of the law by verbal addition and verbal suppression (see §30n and §31n). τῷ δικαστηρίῳ . . . εἴρηται (‘it is expressly declared by the court’). Thus the majority of scholars (e.g. Carey 1989: 78), taking the dative as agent. But it is not clear to me that an Athenian court would naturally be described as ‘saying’ the law, which was an action more commonly attributed to the legislator (e.g. Aiskhin. 3.21; Dem. 23.51). So I am attracted by the suggestion of Scodel (1986: 10, albeit without explanation) that it might instead be an indirect object ‘declared to’: the inscription is located where the Areiopagos meets, precisely to ensure that they know the limits of their jurisdiction (compare the location of other laws restricting their jurisdiction at Ath.Pol. 35.2 and at SEG 12 [1955], 87.22–27). πάτριον (‘ancestral’). One of the clauses of the Amnesty of 403/2 (Ath.Pol. 39.5) speciﬁed that homicide trials were to take place κατα` τα` πα´τρια (‘according to ancestral custom’), and it seems probable that the use of this term here is a

70

Carawan (1998: 92–95) subjects the text at Dem. 23.53 to careful scrutiny, focusing on Demosthenes’ failure to discuss clause (b) ‘catching on the highway’, but elsewhere he seems prepared to regard it as a genuine law, though not one of Drakon’s (Carawan 1998: 121). Certainly all the other clauses in the law are clearly discussed at 23.54–56, including the full list of female dependents in clause (d). For the interpretation of clauses (a)–(c), which are not discussed here, see also MacDowell (1963: 73–76) and Sealey (1983: 283–285). 71 The Roman jurist Ulpian claims that Drakon and Solon used the phrase ν -ργ to mean ‘in the actual act of love’ (Digest, 48.5.24, but specifying no further context for the Greek phrase), and a character in Lucian, Eunuch, §10, speaks of his opponent’s being caught ‘α%ρθρα ν α%ρθροι -χων (male sexual member in female), as the axo¯n says’. Since the writing of laws on axones is associated only with Drakon and Solon, several scholars have taken this as evidence for the existence of additional clauses in either or both of the laws cited at §30 or §29 (see e.g. Lipsius 1905–1915: 430–431 with n. 45 [§29], and Gernet & Bizos 1955 [1924].i: 25 [§30]). Lucian however is by no means a reliable authority on Athenian law (his list of legal actions in Dis Kate¯goroumenos, §13, contains signiﬁcant errors). 72 Unlike the Roman marriage legislation of Augustus, which permitted the paterfamilias of an adulterous woman—though not the husband—summarily to kill the adulterer but only if he killed her also (Digest, 48.5.21.pr [Papinian]), the law quoted by Demosthenes permits only the killing of the man: for the civic penalties imposed on the woman in such a case, see p. 48 with n. 24 above.

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conscious or semi-conscious reference by Lysias to the terms of the Amnesty (thus Gernet & Bizos 1955 [1924].i: 36 n. 2). ἀποδέδοται (‘has been granted’). Apodido¯mi can mean either ‘restore’ (LSJ s.v. I.1) or ‘assign’ (LSJ s.v. I.2): the latter has been preferred here to avoid gratuitously contradicting Demosthenes’ albeit unsupported claim that the Areiopagos was the one court which nobody (not even the Thirty Tyrants) had ever dared deprive of its jurisdiction over homicide (Dem. 23.66). The powers of the Areiopagos seem in fact to have been increased under the Thirty, who are said to have repealed the ‘laws of Ephialtes and Arkhestratos’ (Ath.Pol. 35.2), evidently referring to the reforms of c.462/1 by which the Areiopagos seems to have lost a broader jurisdiction over constitutional matters. But although the Ephialtic restrictions on its powers will presumably have been re-enacted after the democratic restoration, nevertheless the Areiopagos seems to have avoided becoming too heavily implicated in the Thirty’s excesses. Lys. 12.69 certainly feels it appropriate to claim soon afterwards that the Areiopagos had been playing a prodemocratic rôle in the constitutional negotiations of 404, while the important if temporary constitutional function granted to them by the decree of Teisamenos (Andok. 1.84) tends to suggest that they were well regarded by the restored democracy of 403/2. ἐπὶ δάµαρτι (‘with his wife’). The term damar is found also in a law specifying who has the right to give a woman in marriage (Dem. 46.18, and restored at Hyp. Athenog. §18). The fact that Lysias feels the need to gloss it (cf. §31n) suggests that it was felt to be an archaic term in prose authors—though in fact it is not particularly common in Homer, but is used frequently by the tragedians, particularly Euripides. µοιχὸν λαβών (‘captures an adulterer’). Despite the claim to be quoting from the law explicitly (διαρρδην, cf. §30n),73 it is notable that the word moikhos does not appear in the law quoted at Dem. 23.53–56, which does not say ‘kills another <ﬁnding him> as a moikhos by the side of’ assorted female relatives, but simply ‘by the side of’. So it seems reasonable to infer that this detail has been deliberately introduced by Lysias to suit his case. Whereas the law as reported by Demosthenes would appear to include non-consensual assault as well as consensual sex,74 Lysias wants to be able to argue in §§32–36 that rape is not a capital crime; and so it is in his interests to misrepresent the terms of the law here. §31. καὶ οὕτω σϕόδρα . . . (‘so convinced’). The argument based on this second law (like its successor based on the third one, cf. §32n) is a fortiori: if moikheia 73 The absence of the concept of quotation marks means that orators quoting laws are not averse to interpolating their own interpretative glosses: e.g. Aiskhin. 1.19–20 with Dover (1978: 24–25). 74 That this is the natural meaning of the text is argued by E. M. Harris (1990: 372), who notes the signiﬁcance here of the charter-myth of Hallirhothios (justiﬁably killed because of rape, not moikheia, though cf. p. 45 with n. 9 above). Kapparis (1995b: 105) claims that epi + dative of a person can signify only adultery, but does not spell out his argument.

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with a pallake¯ or concubine merits death, how much more does moikheia with a wife. The law in question, however, refers not simply to pallakai, but to those kept ep’ eleutherois paisin (‘for the purpose of free children’: Dem. 23.53–56, for which see §30n). This point is studiously ignored by Lysias. Rhetorically he can probably get away with doing this because the term seems to have been a legal archaism with little meaning for the audience, but logically it substantially undermines his argument: if (as has been suggested, cf. below) the phrase eleutheroi paides here denotes children who at the time of the legislation were in some sense full members of the community, then their paternity would be as important as that of the children of wives. ὁ νοµοθέτης (‘the law-giver’). Arguments from the legislator’s intention are more common in later orators than in Lysias (see 3.42n), but another example is discussed at §33n. For the rhetoric of the all-wise law-giver, see §48n. γαµεταῖς γυναιξί (‘married women’). It is not clear how far the adjective is serving to create emphasis, and how far to remove the risk of ambiguity. Gune¯ on its own is the normal word for ‘wife’ in classical Greek, and is used in this sense throughout the speech to denote the wife of Euphiletos (e.g. §4, §8, §10, §12), but the word can be used of any woman (pl. gunaikes is used at §10 to include the maid). The absence of a single classical term unambiguously denoting ‘married woman’ is discussed by Ste Croix (2004: 249), who sees it as evidence for the nonsigniﬁcance of marriage except where this involved the transmission of property; it is worth noting, however, that the apparently archaic term damar used in the law (see §30n) does speciﬁcally denote a woman who is married.75 παλλακαῖς (‘concubines’). The connotation of pallake¯ by this date was that of a regular, and to some extent regularized, but extra-marital relationship.76 Some pallakai would be slaves (for the possible implications of this on the security of the woman, see Ant. 1.14); but a foreign woman could not after 451 be the legitimate wife of an Athenian citizen, and such women would be included in the category of pallakai; it is possible also that the daughters of citizens too poor to provide them with dowries might be forced to accept this status rather than marriage (Isai. 3.39, with Harrison 1968–71.i: 14–15). As we saw at §31n, Lysias offers a selective and tendentious summary of a law which appears to have referred speciﬁcally to a pallake¯ kept ep’ eleutherois paisin (‘for the purpose of free children’): the signiﬁcance of this qualifying phrase is uncertain, not least because it is found nowhere else outside Dem. 23.53–56. Harrison (1968–71.i: 13–14) has 75 It is evidently cognate with the verb δαµα´ζω ‘to tame, break in’ (LSJ s.v. δα´µαρ): for the metaphor, see e.g. King (1998: 76–77). 76 Davidson (1997: 73–74) argues for slipperiness of demarcation between terms like hetaira (courtesan) and pallake¯; for an alternative reading of Apollodoros’ rhetorical strategies in Dem. 59 (where the terms are famously if tendentiously distinguished in what purports to be an exhaustive classiﬁcation of women at 59.122), see Miner (2003). For the relationship between hetaira, porne¯ (prostitute)—the latter a striking omission from Apollodoros’ classiﬁcation though frequent in the rest of his speech—and pallake¯, see Kurke (1999: 175–219) and McClure (2003: 11–21).

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plausibly suggested that it relates to a period when female captives of war might be socially on the same level as their captors, and when the status of offspring depended on the wishes of their father or at least his ability to carry them out.77 Several scholars, most notably Sealey (1984), have gone further, suggesting that the law here reﬂects a period when the content of citizenship was minimal, and when eleutheros denoted in effect a full member of the community; for a contrary view, see Ogden (1996: 33–34). τὴν αὐτὴν δίκην (‘the same penalty’). Dike¯ here (cf. §29n) and timo¯ria in the following clause (cf. §2n) both represent a careful elision of the difference between the permission of private vengeance and the imposing of a judicial sentence, preparing the way for the a fortiori argument in §§32–33. εἴ τινα . . . µείζω τιµωρίαν (‘if . . . any more severe punishment available’).78 This is reminiscent of a famous (and probably apocryphal) remark attributed to Drakon, who had allegedly made death the penalty for even the smallest offences; when asked why he had done this, he is said to have responded that such a person richly deserved death, and that he had been unable to devise a more serious penalty for more serious crimes (Plut. Solon, 17.4). Since Lysias is here quoting part of the homicide law, this may be evidence that Drakon (as its putative author) had this reputation already. A death sentence could in fact be compounded by further humiliation, including the denial of burial in Attica (Todd 2000b: 46), but to mention this would undermine the argument here.

Third legal argument: adultery worse than rape (§§32–33) ΝΟΜΟΣ (‘LAW’). The third law. In view of the a fortiori argument which follows (see §32n), we might expect it to be a law dealing speciﬁcally with rape. But it is notable that although Greek has several terms for assault which can be used to signify sexual assault committed with violence and without consent, nevertheless there is no word with this speciﬁc and unique meaning;79 indeed, Lysias’ own discussion of the law is forced to use the periphrasis ‘shames with violence’ (ασχ$νb βS, §32). This phrasing suggests that what is being read out here is not a rape law—indeed, it may imply that no such law existed—but rather a law regulating a legal procedure that was available in much wider circumstances but which could also be used against rapists. Possibilities include the dike¯ blabe¯s (private prosecution for damage, in view of the phrase διπλ8ν . . . τDν βλα´βην in

77 He also makes the important point that the law did not say ‘pallake¯ who is herself free’ (Harrison 1968–71.i: 164 n. 2). 78 My translation here follows Carey’s punctuation: previous editors read ‘if the lawgiver had had any more severe punishment available in the case of married women, he would have imposed it’. 79 Thus S. G. Cole (1984: 98), with discussion of the use of several verbs including βια´ζεσθαι, 7βρζειν, and ασχ$νειν. The absence of clear differentiation at Athens between rape and other sexual transgressions is suggested by the scope of the phrase epi damarti in the justiﬁable homicide law (see §30n); see more generally Omitowoju (2002: 63–70, esp. at 64).

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§32), or more plausibly the dike¯ biaio¯n (one of the suits for assault, in view of ασχ$νb βS and τοZ βιαζοµ νου, both again in §32).80 §32. ανθρωπον ἐλεύθερον ἢ παῖδα (‘a free adult or child’). A difﬁcult phrase, for which I offer one of two translations that are both possible linguistically, while noting that a textual emendation yields a third option. The problem lies partly in the ambiguity of pais (which as in many slave-societies can denote either a child or a slave) and partly in the application of the adjective eleutheros. Most scholars read this as applying to both nouns: i.e. ‘a free adult or child’ (as in my translation). A minority however has applied it speciﬁcally to the ﬁrst noun, and has seen here a contrast between ‘free person’ and ‘slave’.81 Among the reasons that have been suggested for preferring the ﬁrst reading is the fact that pais meaning ‘slave’ is not otherwise found in legal statutes (Carey 1989: 79),82 though some caution is needed because we do not know how closely the law is being paraphrased here. The use of pais to denote a slave is not uncommon in the Orators (e.g. Andok. 1.64, Isok. 17.11, Dem. 47.36), but Lysias himself in the extant speeches uses the word (as opposed to for instance paidiske¯) always of children; there are however two fragments where it does seem to apply to slaves (frag. 61 Prosecution of Autokrates for Moikheia, frag. 222 Against the Graphe¯ of Meixidemos), though the absence of context makes these difﬁcult to evaluate. (A second reason is based on the interpretation of ‘double damages’, but there is a danger of circular argument here, cf. following note.) The third option is to accept the emendation proposed by Dobree (1874: 174: α%νδρα, i.e. speciﬁcally ‘male adult’, for α%νθρωπον), which would yield ‘a free man or boy’; this provides an attractive contrast with the woman in the second conditional sentence, but the logic of the argument is sufﬁciently unclear to preclude certainty. διπλῆν τὴν βλάβην (‘double damages’). Once again, several interpretations of this phrase are possible. The ﬁrst was suggested originally by Frohberger (1868: 127),83 who read it as meaning ‘two sets of damages’, one as a ﬁne to the treasury and the other as compensation to the victim. He put forward as a parallel Dem. 21.43, which speaks of a double payment for a deliberate offence, but a more natural reading of that passage (thus MacDowell 1990: 258) is that Demosthenes is envisaging the victim as recipient of the totality whether his compensation is single or double. Perhaps a better parallel is Dem. 58.21, which speciﬁes that whoever wrongfully asserts the liberty of a slave shall pay half of the sum assessed 80

Other forms of prosecution for assault seem less likely: we do not normally ﬁnd aikeia (as in the dike¯ aikeias) used to describe sexual assault; and the graphe¯ hubreo¯s (a public prosecution) could lead to the death-penalty, which would grievously weaken Lysias’ argument (see §32n). 81 Free adult or child: Glotz (1904: 393); Lamb (1930: 19); Fernández-Galiano (1953: 15); Harrison (1968–71.i: 34 n. 2); Usher (Edwards & Usher 1985: 141); Carey (1989: 79); Vianello de Córdova (1990a [1980]: pp. lxxxv–lxxxvi). Free person or slave: Frohberger (1868: 127); Albini (1952b: 22); Medda (1989–95.i: 94 n. 11). Free man or boy (Dobree’s emendation, below) is cited as a serious possibility in the addenda to Gernet & Bizos (1955.i: 239). 82 The term normally used is doulos, for which see §42n. 83 Followed most recently by Ogden (1996: 146 n. 58).

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(time¯ma) into the treasury, which presumably means either that the victorious owner gets the other 50 per cent, or possibly that the 50 per cent paid to the treasury is a penalty on top of the 100 per cent paid to the owner. Either way, however, Carey (1989: 79) is right to note that Lysias’ wording here is not very similar.84 The second and more common interpretation was proposed by Glotz (1904: 394),85 who took what he regarded as the equation of free woman with free man or boy in this passage (see previous note); combined it with a statement in Plutarch that Solon imposed a statutory penalty of 100 drachmas for raping a free woman (Solon, 23.1);86 and hypothesised a penalty of 50 drachmas for raping a slave, with ‘double’ here meaning ‘twice the putative lower penalty’.87 To my mind the main difﬁculty with this interpretation is a point which seems not to have received attention: on ideological grounds it is surely unlikely that the law would have been phrased so as to make a slave into the basis on which the penalties for free victims were calculated. (It is notable for instance that those passages of the Gortyn Code which are often cited as parallels for such a status-based system of penalties always start with the highest-status victim and the highest penalty, and then work downwards.)88 The third alternative, however, as noted by Fernández-Galiano (1953: 15 n. 20), is to assume that it means double some other predetermined ﬁgure: it is tempting for instance to suggest that the law in question might have been drawing a contrast with a lesser category of injury, rather than a lesser category of victim. 84 Harrison (1968–71.i: 34 n. 2) is concerned at the difﬁculty involved in assessing and doubling ‘a moral injury such as violation of a person’s chastity’, but I am not sure this is itself an over-riding problem that could not be resolved by the normal process of time¯sis. Admittedly doubling in our sources applies most often where the offence has a clear cash value (stolen property at Dem. 24.105; unpaid ﬁnes at Andok. 1.73 and probably Dein 1.60; and Plato, Laws, 868a5–6 envisages the same for the killing of a slave); and admittedly a slave can have a price, in the way that a free person does not. But Dem. 21.43 (above) claims that all the laws applying to blabe¯ (damage) required the sum to be doubled if the offence is deliberate, and blabe¯ is by no means limited to material damage. Similarly, Dem. 23.28 claims that although a murderer in Attica could be arrested or killed, it was illegal for him to be maltreated or despoiled, for which the penalty was twice the amount of the damage (λυµανεσθαι δ& µ, µηδ& α2ποινα˜ν, e διπλο'ν @φελειν 9σον αgν καταβλα´ψb), implying that maltreatment was thought capable of being assessed in ﬁnancial terms. 85 Followed by S. G. Cole (1984: 102–103); Carey (1989: 79); Carawan (1998: 290); Edwards (1999: 79); tentatively Harrison (1968–71.i: 34 n. 2). 86 Lipsius (1905–15: 259), who rejected Glotz’s interpretation, saw Lysias’ language here as evidence that the statutory penalty mentioned by Plutarch had over time given way to a penalty assessed by time¯sis (for which cf. §29n); in this he has been followed by many scholars, including some, such as Harrison (1968–71.i: 34 n. 2), who also follow Glotz. 87 Some scholars have linked this with a possible interpretation of a law quoted at 10.19n, but the reading of this passage is itself extremely problematic. 88 Thus the Gortyn Code on rape has the following order (col. 2.2–20): rape of free man or woman, 100 staters; rape of apetairos, 10 staters; if rapist is slave then double that sum; if free man rapes male or female woikeus, 5 staters; if woikeus rapes male or female woikeus, 5 staters. So too the penalties imposed on an adulterer (moikio¯n, col. 2.20–45): adultery with free woman in the house of father or brother or husband, 100 staters; free woman elsewhere, 50 staters; wife of apetairos, 10 staters; if committed by slave with free woman, double amount; if by slave with wife of slave, 5 staters. Plutarch (despite Glotz’s reconstruction) similarly takes as his point of reference a free woman.

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ἐϕ̓ αἷσπερ ἀποκτείνειν ἔξεστιν (‘in those categories where the death-sentence is applicable’, lit. ‘in the case of those <women> where it is permissible to kill’). The meaning of this exceedingly elliptical sentence seems to be: ‘but if he a woman, in the case of whom it would be lawful to kill him, he is to be liable to the same .’ οὕτως, ὦ ανδρες . . . (‘clearly therefore, gentlemen’). E. M. Harris (1990) has argued persuasively that the argument in §§32–33 is a carefully constructed a fortiori, based on selective quotation in both the terms of the comparison. On the side of the equation that concerns adultery, it is now generally agreed that Lysias represents the relevant clause in the justiﬁable homicide law as if it dealt only with moikhoi rather than including rapists (see §30n), as if it represented the only way of dealing with moikhoi rather than one among several (cf. §18n), and as if it set out a judicial penalty of death rather than permitting extra-judicial killing (see §31n). Less conclusive is Harris’ argument that the frequent use of hubrizein to denote rape (see §31n) implies the availability of the graphe¯ hubreo¯s against rapists, but it is tempting to see this in e.g. the case of the Rhodian harpist at Dein. 1.23. It is known that the penalty in the graphe¯ hubreo¯s was ﬁxed by time¯sis (assessment, cf. §29n) rather than by statute (Dem. 21.47), but it could be a capital offence (Dem. 21.70–76), and the alarmed reaction which Bdelykleon (Aristoph. Wasps, 1418) shows to the threat of a graphe¯ hubreo¯s may imply that this penalty was regarded as normal. To the extent that Lysias has ignored the existence of less severe penalties for moikheia and arguably also more severe penalties for rape, there is general agreement. Whether his argument here would have sounded convincing or tendentious to the audience is however less certain: see §33n. τοὺς πείθοντας (‘those who seduce’, lit. ‘persuade’). Throughout this argument, Lysias distinguishes adultery and rape roughly according to their modern meanings: rape is a crime of violence, whereas adultery involves consent and takes place within the context of marriage (implied by οκειοτ ρα, οκαν, etc.). This may however be a far-fetched rather than a widely accepted interpretation of the law: it is notable that he does not use the word moikhos until the end of §§32–33. §33. ὑπὸ τῶν βιασθέντων µισεῖσθαι (‘are hated by those who have been assaulted’). A present participle could have been used to describe the victims of rape, but the aorist serves to avoid ambiguity (it can only be passive, whereas pres. βιαζοµ νων might have been middle, as is βιαζοµ νου in §32). The choice of masc. βιασθ ντων is interesting, since we would have expected assaulted wives to be described as fem. βιασθεισν: it may be a reference back to the πα;δα of §32, or it may be simply a generalisation (‘people who have been . . .’). τὰς ψυχὰς διαϕθείρειν (‘corrupt the minds’). This ‘destruction’ is what Eratosthenes has done to Euphiletos’ own wife, as Lysias has emphasised from the ﬁrst (see §4n).

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οἰκειοτέρας (‘more closely related’). There is a strong emphasis throughout this argument on the destruction of the marriage bond and thus of the family. It may not be literally true to say that an adulterer makes the wife more a member of his own oikos than of her husband’s (this would be the full implication of oikeioteras); but adultery certainly creates doubts as to the paternity of the children (ade¯lous), and this is to strike at one of the major functions of the oikos. ἀνθ̓ ὧν ὁ τὸν νόµον τιθείς (‘because of this the lawgiver’). Once again (as at §31n, and cf. 3.42n for broader discussion of the topos) an argument from the legislator’s intention. How it would have sounded to the jury is an interesting question, the more so if the court was still manned by ephetai and especially if these were drawn from the members of the Areiopagos (see p. 46 with n. 14 above), since members of the Areiopagos held their position for life and were therefore considered to be experienced judges, at least in matters of homicide and general legal argument. Legally, as we have seen at §32n, the a fortiori argument here rests on highly tendentious selective quotation. The social assumptions behind the argument, however, may have been more in tune with the jurors’ expectations. Brown (1991) ﬁnds parallel sentiments in Menander, Dyskolos, 289–293, a passage which has no such axe to grind; and Carey (1995b) notes other non-forensic echoes (e.g. Xen. Hieron, 3.6), arguing that the key issue for an Athenian will have been the threat to paternity posed by moikheia. (This of course will have made more sense if Athenians regarded moikheia as something normally committed with a married woman, as noted at pp. 47–48 above).

Panegyric on the laws (§§34–36) §34. ἐµοῦ τοίνυν (‘so then . . . me’). Lysias concludes the conﬁrmatory section of the proofs with a short panegyric on the importance of the laws (§§34–36). During the course of this, the laws are repeatedly personiﬁed, with unusually metaphorical language: they ‘have not only acquitted me of crime, but have actually commanded me to exact this penalty’ (§34); ‘when we are uncertain in a situation, we can go to the law to ﬁnd out what we should do’ (§35); if he is convicted, ‘[everyone will know that] we must say good-bye to the laws’ (§36). For the high view which Lysias takes of the law here—itself of course a function of his case—see Bateman (1958b). Throughout the speech there is a slippage from ‘the law permitted me’ through ‘I obeyed the law’ to ‘the law commanded me’; and having got there, he is ready for a triumphant deployment of the familiar propaganda about the rule of law, for which see 10.31n. ἐν ὑµῖν δ’ ἐστί (‘it is for you’). For the use of arguments from precedent in Athenian oratory, see Lanni (2004), who lists at p. 166 n. 36 the following examples in Lysias of what she calls the ‘consequentialist topos’ (i.e. the argument that verdicts may cause members of the community to adapt their behaviour): 1.36, 1.47, 12.35, 14.12, 22.21, 27.7, 30.23. It is notable that all these are from speeches delivered either by prosecutors or (as in the present case) by defendants stealing the prosecutors’ clothes.

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χρή (‘are to be’). The necessity here is presumably incumbent upon the public at large, and especially any potential offenders among them; these are of course precisely the people (at least in Lysias’ imagination) who are queuing up to hear the result of the present case. ἰσχυροὺς ἢ µηδενὸς ἀξίους (‘authoritative or worthless’). An extreme dichotomy: they are not given the chance to suggest that the law should be kept but interpreted differently, or that it applies only within certain limits. §35. πάσας τὰς πόλεις (‘every city’). Athenian rhetoric about the rule of law within Athens itself (for which cf. §34n) is—at ﬁrst sight perhaps surprisingly— compatible with a positive respect for the law of other Greek poleis, whether this is used to demonstrate that other cities operate similarly tough rules (as in the treatment of traitors at Sparta in Lyk. 1.128–130), or indeed to criticise Athens’ readiness to accept unnecessary legislative change (as in the vivid, if probably ﬁctitious,89 account at Dem. 24.139–141 of the barriers to legislative change imposed by the ‘well-governed polis’ of Lokris). περὶ ὧν . . . ἀπορῶµεν (‘when we are uncertain in a situation’). The idea that the law cannot possibly cover every situation is recognised explicitly at Ath.Pol. 9.2 (as a reasoned response to the suggestion of some critics that this was a deliberate plot on Solon’s part to magnify the power of the democratic courts); it is also implied by the wording of the dikastic oath, that ‘concerning matters where there is no law, I shall make the decision that is most just’ (gno¯me¯i dikaiotate¯i: Dem. 20.118, 23.96, etc.). This passage however seems to go further, seeing it as the function of law to be available for use by citizens to ﬁll in the gaps in their conceptions of justice; I am not aware of any parallels within the Orators, though the rhetorical theorists’ classiﬁcation of laws as a form of evidence (on which see e.g. Carey 1996, with refs.) may be compatible. §36. τοιαύτην αδειαν (‘such security’). Adeia (lit. ‘freedom from fear’) is frequently used to denote a grant of immunity resulting from an ofﬁcial decision to suspend penalties (Ant. 1.77; Andok. 1.11), which might include an excessive leniency on the part of a lawcourt (Lys. 12.85). The argument here from undesirable consequence (cf. §34n) relies on a series of elisions and assumptions:90 ‘if you convict me of non-justiﬁable homicide, , then <everyone will know that moikhoi can escape unpunished, and> thieves will claim to be moikhoi, because
89 For the mythologising process by which famous laws tend to attract lawgivers, see SzegedyMaszak (1978). It is notable in this case that the same story is attributed by Diodoros to Kharondas of Katane as lawgiver at Thourioi (Diod.Sic. 12.17–18), albeit with the addition of two further accounts of new legislation alongside Demosthenes’ story of the one-eyed man. 90 The argument here is so weak that it has convinced nobody. Blass (1887 [1868]: 575) even argued that the whole thing was meant by Lysias as a joke, in order that Euphiletos can display to the jury his conﬁdence.

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being thieves they will be executed,91 but> if they claim to be moikhoi the householder will not dare to touch them.’ The ﬁnal phrase here is carefully ambiguous: it may be true that if Euphiletos is convicted, then householders will probably hesitate before laying violent hands on future moikhoi, but the fact that there are ways of punishing moikhoi other than summary execution means that they will not escape unpunished if Euphiletos is convicted. And certainly moikhoi found within the house at night might be wary of making this claim, since we are told at Dem. 24.113 that night-time thieves were liable to summary execution by their captors. κυριωτάτη (‘the sovereign authority’, lit. ‘is most authoritative’). Hansen (1991: 303), in one of his more recent analyses of the topic, argues that modern debates about constitutional sovereignty would have meant little to a fourth-century Athenian, for whom the proposition that ‘the laws are kurioi’ was by no means incompatible with the proposition that ‘the democratic courts are kurioi’. To portray the authority of the courts as being above that of the law, however, is much less common, at least in forensic sources.92 At Isok. 20.23 the tone seems to be one of ﬂattery (‘even those like my opponent who despise the law will respect the court’); here I suspect there may also be a hint of sarcasm.

Rebuttal of entrapment (§§37–42) §37. σκέψασθε δέ (‘please consider’). The section of the proofs devoted to refutation (§§37–46) falls into two parts. The second of these takes the form of a series of rhetorical commonplaces (§§43–46) aimed at the possible charge that Euphiletos had had a motive for killing Eratosthenes: this issue was alluded to in the proem (§4), though at no stage in the speech is it ever directly claimed that Euphiletos’ opponents had raised the matter themselves. By contrast, the ﬁrst part of the refutation (§§37–42) picks up many of the details from the narrative, especially those relating to Sostratos (§§39–40, cf. §§22–23) and the summoning of the posse (§§41–42, cf. §23): these are together used to rebut a charge of entrapment which is directly attributed to the prosecution, but which makes its ﬁrst explicit appearance at §37 (for a possible but if so very guarded earlier allusion, see §27n). Wilamowitz (1923: 60–61) was worried at the degree of repetition between narrative and refutation, and argued that the whole of §§37–46 must have been added to the published version of the text after the trial though probably by Lysias, on the grounds that the latter would have been unable to prepare against the charge of entrapment, since on his view this would not have been mentioned by the prosecution until the trial itself. This view has won few adherents, partly because it ignores the possibility that prodikasiai 91 Kleptai (thieves) were among those classed as kakourgoi (malefactors), liable to arrest by apago¯ge¯ (see §28n) and summary execution if they did not contest their guilt. 92 On occasions the dikastai are encouraged to act as legislators (Lys. 14.4, Lyk. 1.8–9), but only in contexts where this is portrayed as supplementing the law. Outside the Orators, the topos of the sovereign lawcourt is associated with criticism of excessive democracy (as at Ath.Pol. 41.2), which would not be appropriate in a forensic speech.

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(preliminary hearings in homicide cases, for which see p. 45 above) and informal gossip will have enabled a logographer to make shrewd guesses about the opponents’ case in advance, but also because the details that are recapitulated in rebuttal are much more deeply embedded in the structure of the narrative than Wilamowitz allowed (for both these points, see the extensive analysis in Lämmli 1938: 58–69).93 The underlying question posed by Wilamowitz, however, has received less satisfactory attention:94 why is there such a delay between narrative and recapitulation, and why is the question of entrapment raised explicitly for the ﬁrst time only at §37? My own view is that the episodes both of Sostratos and of the posse play a double function, with one of these rôles appearing in the narrative and the other in the refutation, and that their ability to sustain either function depends on the separation of argument from narrative. In the narrative, they are presented simply as incidental detail, and we believe in the truth of the episodes (and therefore of the surrounding narrative) precisely because irrelevance creates the illusion of realism. The proof section, however, capitalises on our acceptance of the narrative: a hearer who has once accepted a thing as fact will no longer question this when its signiﬁcance is discussed. The probabilityargument therefore depends on the illusion of realism; and that illusion depends on the absence of argument from the narrative. If Lysias had drawn the probability-argument at §22, or failed to mention Sostratos until §37, the impact would have been irretrievably weakened, because the hearer would necessarily have asked the question which the whole structure of the speech is designed to suppress: why should I believe what I am told?95 µετελθεῖν ἐκέλευσα (‘of having ordered . . . to fetch’). Probably in the sense of sending her with a message purporting to come from his wife and ﬁxing a time at which he would himself be absent, rather than (as suggested by Desbourdes, as cited at §27n) with a message claiming to be the slave of a third party. τὸν νεανίσκον (‘the young man’). Since Eratosthenes’ behaviour has been repeatedly described as hubris (see §2n, and cf. §4, §16), and since hubris in Greek social theory was behaviour characteristic of men who were young as well as rich (ο! ν οι κα ο! πλο$σιοι 7βριστα: Aristot. Rhet. 2.2.6 = 1378b28), the word neaniskos is well chosen.96 As part of his argument for the identiﬁcation of the deceased here 93 It is also the case that, as often in this speech, the repetition between narrative and recapitulation is not verbatim (see §39n and §23n), though this is more an argument for the refutation having been written by the same author than for it having been written as part of the original design of the speech. 94 Lämmli himself (at p. 69) and Carawan (1998: 294 n. 21) both speculate that §§37–46 might have been intended for the second speech which we would expect a defendant in a homicide trial to have had to deliver, but they do not develop the point. The question of the second speech is raised also but in a different context by Albini (1952b: 20). 95 Compare the discussion at p. 285 below of the relationship of Lys. 3.12–13 with 3.35 (too obvious) and with 3.27 (much more effective). 96 One of the clauses in the second-century gymnasiarchal law from Beroia in Macedonia (SEG 27 [1977], 261B.13–15) prohibits neaniskoi from speaking to paides (boys): the inference, as noted by Cantarella (1992: 29), is presumably that the former are perceived as sexually predatory, at least in certain contexts.

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with the defendant of Lys. 12 (discussed at p. 59 above), Avery (1991: 382) cites a somewhat schematic Pythagorean use of the term to cover the twenty-year period to the end of a man’s thirties (Diog.Laert. 8.10), and suggests that it may be being used here sarcastically of a mature man who ought to be past the age for such activity. But his argument is rendered implausible by the failure to cite parallels for such sarcasm, and by the fact that elsewhere in Lysias the word is used consistently of much younger men, and particularly of those coming of age (refs. at p. 277 n. 11 below). δίκαιον µὲν αν ποιεῖν (‘would have been acting justly’). It is perhaps signiﬁcant that he uses the language of justice rather than lawfulness: often the two overlap (e.g. Ant. 5.9; Dem. 23.82; Dein. 1.63), but in this passage it is not so much the statutory basis but rather the moral legitimacy of the killing that needs to be demonstrated. Some scholars (e.g. Blass 1887 [1868]: 574) have taken the argument here at face value, but to rely on the unsupported interpretation of the law by an Attic Orator is methodologically unsound. For it to be worth Lysias’ while offering this interpretation, we may assume that the question of what would constitute entrapment was certainly not deﬁned in Athenian law, and it is indeed possible that it was not even mentioned.97 The unusually cautious tone in which the argument is presented here,98 in contrast to the conﬁdence which Lysias takes care to display throughout the rest of the speech, may suggest that he did not expect his interpretation of the law to carry great conviction. But its function is that of an extreme claim: even if it fails fully to persuade the jury, it does not therefore convict Euphiletos, because he is claiming that he would have been entitled to go much further than he actually did. §38. λόγων εἰρηµένων ἔργου δὲ µηδενὸς γεγενηµένου (‘when words alone had been spoken but no act had been committed’). In other words, if Eratosthenes had simply sent love-letters or some other proposal, it would have been wrong then for Euphiletos to put temptation in his way. This is an attempt by Lysias to guard the defendant’s ﬂanks: perhaps the strongest impression that we are encouraged to draw from the vivid narrative is that Euphiletos was wholly in the dark until matters had got to the stage of consummation. But as Carey (1989: 82) notes, there is no explicit denial of the allegation of entrapment at this point. σώϕρον̓ (‘in a wholly appropriate fashion’), lit. ‘as so¯phro¯n’, i.e. one who acts with so¯phrosune¯ or proper self-control. Unlike Eratosthenes, who came to grief because he was not kosmios (see §26n), Euphiletos as a law-abiding citizen is therefore so¯phro¯n. The two terms are frequently associated in Lysias (e.g. at 3.4, 14.41, 97 Contrast the Gortyn Code, 2.33–45, which included detailed provisions as to the number of witnesses required to swear that the capture had taken place without subterfuge. Gagarin (1978b: 301–302) suggests that dikaion in our passage here denotes moral justiﬁcation rather than speciﬁc legality. 98 Note the explicit statement of opinion in Gγο$µην, the construction of the hypothesis as an unreal past condition, and the sweeping claims of the repeated iτινιο'ν τρ*π.

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19.16, 21.19), and elsewhere (e.g. in institutional contexts: Ath.Pol. 42.2 with Rhodes 1981: 504–505). For so¯phro¯n used of a woman, see §10n. §39. σκέψασθε δέ . . . (‘but consider’). The repetition of this phrase from the start of §37 again irritated Wilamowitz (see §37n), but it serves a perfectly respectable function: in §37 it was used to mark the transition to the refutation of charges, but almost immediately (γ< δ . . .), Lysias allowed himself to be side-tracked into deﬁning the limits of entrapment; here he returns to the subject in hand. The style is conversational, but the passage is not necessarily therefore to be athetised. ὅτι καὶ ταῦτα ψεύδονται (‘that they are lying about this point as well’). A reference to the charge, not to the refutation. We might perhaps have expected σκ ψασθε δ& κα κ το$των 9τι ψε$δονται, ‘what follows will provide further proof that they are lying’; but Lysias prefers the more aggressive, ‘the fact that they have brought this charge is further evidence for their duplicity’. ῥᾳδίως δὲ ἐκ τῶνδε γνώσεσθε (‘you can see this easily from what follows’). These words by contrast do refer to the refutation. In fact we are offered two separate sets of arguments in rebuttal of the charge: the ﬁrst set is based on the story of Sostratos, which is recalled in §39 and has a twofold implication spelt out in §40; the second set concerns Euphiletos’ own not-too-successful attempts to gather the posse (§§41–42). ϕίλος ὢν Σώστρατος καὶ οἰκείως διακείµενος (‘Sostratos is a close friend of mine’). Once again (cf. §11n, §17n, §29n), the device of repetition is deployed, here to recall to our minds the connection with what we have already heard and accepted in §§22–23; and once again, strict verbal repetition is avoided, to avoid tedium: Σ=στρατο :ν µοι πιτδειο κα φλο becomes φλο Aν Σ=στρατο κα οκεω διακεµενο (there is a matching pair of terms in both passages, but only one of the terms is expressed in the same way both times); in grammatical status, phrasing and word-order, the clause (sc. Εφλητο) Gλου δεδυκ*το *ντι ξ α2γρο' α2πντησα is changed to the phrase (sc. Σ=στρατο) α2παντσα ξ α2γρο' περ Gλου δυσµα´; from the sentence πειδD δ& καλ ατ εjχεν, κε;νο µ&ν α2πι<ν kχετο, γ< δ’ κα´θευδον, many of the words remain (although their order has in one place subtly shifted), but here the emphasis is simply on Sostratos, and the contrast with Euphiletos’ own behaviour is omitted as irrelevant: κα πειδD καλ εjχεν ατ, α2πι<ν kχετο. §40. εἰ . . . ἐπεβούλευον (‘if I had been engaged in a conspiracy’). The use of epibouleuo¯ here is striking (more so than at §44, where it is used generically). It is an extremely strong term, which in another case of alleged moikheia denotes not just the trapping of the guilty but the framing of an innocent man (Dem. 59.65–66, where it is used twice). Elsewhere in Lysias it is used frequently but irregularly: it occurs six times in Lys. 3, where it seems to represent a sarcastic exaggeration of the opponent’s claims (see 3.29n); more straightforward is its association with opponents who are alleged to have plotted against the

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democracy (thus Voegelin 1943: 29, with refs., noting its use ﬁve times in Lys. 13). Here the tone is presumably that of deliberate exaggeration, designed to undermine the opponents’ argument at a climactic moment, but there might also be political overtones (‘how can I be said to be conspiring, since that is what oligarchs do’), if the family link with the Eratosthenes of Lys. 12 is accepted (see pp. 59–60 above). §41. ἔπειτα, ὦ ανδρες (‘and then again, gentlemen’). The apostrophe to the jury serves to mark the transition from Sostratos to another set of arguments, those based on Euphiletos’ attempt to gather a posse (§§41–42). εἰς οἰκίαν τῶν ϕίλων τὴν ἐγγυτάτω (‘at the house of one of my friends, whichever was nearest close by’), i.e. as a convenient meeting-place. οὐκ εἰδὼς ὅντινα οἴκοι . . . καὶ ὅντινα ἔξω (‘not knowing whom . . . at home and who would be out’). This is the crucial point, picking up what had seemed to be a chance observation in §23 about the difﬁculties that Euphiletos had had in ﬁnding friends to form the posse. Had I planned the whole thing (his argument runs), I would have found out in advance which of my friends were at home and which were not, to avoid unnecessarily wasting time which might risk Eratosthenes’ taking fright and escaping. To use a syllogistic form: entrapment requires reasonable foresight and reasonable precautions; Euphiletos did not take such precautions; therefore Euphiletos did not entrap Eratosthenes. But somebody with extreme foresight might decide not to take reasonable precautions, in order to dispel the impression of plotting. We may well believe that Euphiletos was not such a man, but our estimate of his character is entirely based on his own speech. In terms of fact, we have only Euphiletos’ own word for what has happened, and we only believe it because we accepted it when nothing seemed to hang on it (see further §42n). ̔Αρµόδιον . . . καὶ τὸν δεῖνα (‘on Harmodios, and on another man’). Lysias was careful not to mention any names at §23, presumably because to have done so at that stage would have been to make it sound as if the matter was important. Here, however, the decision to name one but not the other is slightly odd. It is of course possible that Harmodios was one of the witnesses at §42, while the second friend was unavailable or unwilling to appear. An alternative possibility is that Harmodios was better-known or better-trusted by the jurors. The name is not common (ten individuals distinguished in LGPN Attica), and no fewer than six of these can be identiﬁed with the family of the tyrannicide Harmodios of Aphidna. Davies (1971: no.12267.VI, p. 477) indeed describes as ‘quite likely’ the identiﬁcation of one member of this family—Harmodios son of Proxenos,99 the elder brother of the adopted Dikaiogenes in Isai. 5.11—with Euphiletos’ friend and

99 Himself the opponent in a lost speech written for Iphikrates, attributed to Lysias but rejected following detailed discussion by Dionysios of Halikarnassos (for the fragments and testimonia, see frag. sp. XX).

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neighbour.100 Once again (cf. 40n), if there is a family relationship with the Eratosthenes of Lys. 12, then there would be a certain point in trying to take a descendant of a tyrannicide with you when going to confront the relative of a tyrant. ἑτέρους δὲ οὐκ ἔνδον ὄντας (‘others were not at home’). For the text, see §23n. This is the second of three groups, with the ﬁrst being those who were out of town, and the third those who were at home. It is this ﬁnal group that Euphiletos gathered together and took with him. §42. καίτοιγε εἰ προῄδη (‘and yet if I had had foreknowledge’). A further rhetorical question (containing yet another rhetorical question in parentheses) completes and broadens the implications of §41: κατοι often introduces an objection to what has just been said, in this case an objection to the prosecution’s claim of entrapment. Here it is slaves as well as friends who would have been called on, and their function would have been both physical assistance (in case Eratosthenes had turned out to be armed) and legal support (in the case of the friends, as witnesses). καὶ θεράποντας παρασκευάσασθαι καὶ τοῖς ϕίλοις παραγγεῖλαι (‘have gathered together slaves and warned my friends’). Both verbs can, however, have connotations of legal chicanery: parangello¯ is used particularly for those summoning political partisans (LSJ s.v. IV.1, citing Dem. 21.4), and paraskeuazomai of procuring those who will help obtain a verdict by fraud or force (LSJ s.v. B.I.2, often but not only used of witnesses, as at Dem. 29.27–28).101 The four main Greek nouns for ‘slave’ tend, as was pointed out by Gschnitzer (1963–76), to be used by ancient writers not so much to describe different types of slavery, but rather with reference to the way in which slaves are being conceptualised: it is notable for instance that the same group of slaves in an evidently agricultural context can be described by three of the four terms in the course of a single speech.102 Of the four, therapo¯n (as here) tends to envisage the slave in functional terms, particularly (at least in the Orators) where the potential value of his evidence is under consideration: this term is relatively common in Lysias vis-à-vis other orators,103 whereas the

100 The identiﬁcation would be easier if the events of our speech take place in Athens, since Harmodios of Aphidna’s family deme is in the far north-east of Attica. His brother Dikaiogenes had several property holdings in the plain of Attica (Isai. 5.22) including a tenement-house in the Kerameikos (Isai. 5.26), but this will have been acquired through his adoption. 101 Cf. also Lys. 7.18n, though there the allegation is that the speaker has arranged for the absence of hostile witnesses. 102 Therapontes at Lys. 7.16, 7.34 bis, 7.43; douloi at 7.16; oiketai at 7.17, 7.19. 103 The other references to therapontes in Lysias are, like this one, all plural (5.3, 5.5, 7.16, 7.34 bis, 7.43), with the exception of one passage where it serves to gloss an archaic term in a law (10.19). Elsewhere in the Orators, the word appears only eleven times. The cognate feminine therapaina, by contrast, is much more common (46 examples in the Orators, 6 of these in the current speech and 2 elsewhere in Lysias): not least because, as noted by Gschnitzer (1963–76.i: 1303), there is in practice no female form of oikete¯s.

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opposite is true of andrapodon (slave as booty or property).104 Doulos, which is the term normally used in the framing of Athenian statutes,105 is widespread in other orators but in Lysias tends to be used in the context of allegations of servile status.106 By contrast oikete¯s, which etymologically connotes the slave as dependent member of a household, is readily used both by Lysias and by other orators107 to describe not simply domestic slaves but also those engaged e.g. in farming the speaker’s land.108 Wilamowitz (1923: 59) assumed without discussion that the slaves mentioned here belonged to Euphiletos, but he could easily be thinking of hiring or borrowing from friends. Certainly the description of the livingarrangements in §9 (γ< µ ν . . . α! δ& γυνα;κε) implies that there are no male slaves resident in Euphiletos’ house; and although he seems to own land, and occasionally stays there for a few nights (§11n, §20n), there is no indication of farm buildings sufﬁcient for permanent residence, even by slaves. εἴ τι κἀκεῖνος εἶχε σιδήριον (‘whether he too might have a weapon’). The kai is signiﬁcant here (‘he too’, sc. ‘as well as I/we’), since it implies what Lysias took care to suppress in the narrative, that some at least of the posse had taken good care to arm themselves (see (§24nn δaδα λαβ*ντε and γυµν ν /στηκ*τα; cf. also §27n). The question of whether the law explicitly prohibited the use of a knife on a captured moikhos is discussed at §49n.

104 Andrapodon appears 58 times in the Orators (only 4 in Lysias), overwhelmingly in the plural (though it is used of a hypothetical abductee at Lys. 13.67), and typically when a man’s assets are being summarised in contexts of property-exchange (Lys. 4.1) or conﬁscation (Lys. 12.8, 19) or inheritance (Isai. 8.35). It is notable that the two latter sets of examples relate to slaves whose function is explicitly to generate income (for which cf. also Andok. 1.38), though the term is used also in some challenges to torture (e.g. Ant. 1.6–12; Andok. 1.22), and in Demosthenes’ famous and repeated dictum about slaves being ‘answerable with their bodies’ (Dem. 22.55; 24.167). 105 This point is made by Mactoux (1980: 58): examples can be found both in laws quoted by the Orators (hubris law at Aiskhin. 1.15 and at Dem. 21.47; laws excluding slaves from the palaistra and other homoerotic pursuits at Aiskhin. 1.138–139, law on homicide proclamation at Dem. 43.58; the ms reading of the law at Lys. 10.19 contains the fem. doule¯ but the archaic masc. oikeus), and also in epigraphic texts (rewards for slave-informers at Koresos in IG ii2, 1128.18, 28; differential penalties for offences committed by slaves in the silver coinage law [SEG, 26 [1976–77], 72.30] and in the lex sacra prohibiting removal of wood from the sanctuary of Apollo Erithaseos [IG ii2, 1362.9–10]). 106 Of the nine uses of masc. doulos in Lysias (there are also two examples of fem. doule¯, with 117 masc. and 14 fem. uses in the Orators overall), three form the basis of allegations against Agoratos (13.18, 64) and Nikomakhos (30.27), and a further four serve to describe the runaway slave of Nikomedes in Lys. 23 (itself an implicit allegation against the opponent Pankleon). 107 Oiketai are used to tie up a rival within the house at Lys. frag. 279 Against Tesis §4, but also allegedly to grub up the olive-roots at Lys. 7.19 (cf. Dem. 47.52, where the oiketai are mentioned at the stage when the opponents have come onto the speaker’s land but are still outside his courtyard). They are also found as hypothetical attendants in a street ﬁght (Lys. 3.33) and in the context of a challenge to torture (Lys. 4.15). Overall, the word appears 134 times in the Orators, including 7 in Lysias. 108 Other possible terms for slaves include akolouthos (see 6.21n), paidiske¯ (1.12n), and possibly paidion (3.33n). Diakonos is found seven times in the Orators, but not in Lysias. For the use of pais (‘child’ more often than ‘slave’) in Lysias, see 1.32n.

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ὡς µετὰ πλείστων δὲ µαρτύρων (‘so that . . . in front of the maximum number of witnesses’). For the tendency of potential litigants to maximise the number of available witnesses, see Bonner (1905: 39–40, with refs.) and Todd (1990a: 31). ΜΑΡΤΥΡΕΣ (‘WITNESSES’). As usual, we do not know precisely who and how many these witnesses are, and which of the preceding statements they are supporting. The crucial evidence here would have been that of Harmodios and those others who had been unavailable; but it is quite possible that the focus here was on issues that are less directly important, for instance the evidence of the members of the posse, or for that matter of Sostratos. It would have been fairly easy to arrange for Euphiletos’ friends to give testimony that sounded impressive but in reality carried little weight: was Harmodios’ evidence that he had got back home to ﬁnd a message waiting for him, or that Euphiletos had subsequently told him that he had left a message?

Rebuttal of motive (§§43–46) §43. σκέψασθε δὲ παρ’ ὑµῖν αὐτοῖς (‘I would like you to examine the affair in your own minds’). Lysias moves without indicating the transition from the charge of entrapment to the charge of motive, which he had previously hinted at in §4, and which he spends §§43–46 refuting. It is the only one of the charges which is not speciﬁcally attributed to the prosecution; and Lysias’ response consists almost entirely of rhetorical commonplaces. This may suggest therefore that the charge was never really made, but that Lysias is raising it himself in order to end on a strong note (thus Lämmli 1938: 62–63). It is possible, however, that the charge was a real one in the eyes of the jury, but one which the prosecution could not safely deploy: if the adulterer was indeed a relative of the tyrant (see pp. 59–60 above), then there was a clear public motive for anybody to kill him; if so, then Lysias’ refusal to attack the tyrant directly would presumably be intended to leave to the prosecution the opprobrium of raising this subject, whereas by refuting the hypothetical possibility of a private motive, he can appear to the jury to have thereby refuted the existence of any motive. Because none of the commonplaces concerning motive ﬁt the case, therefore there can have been no motive. ἔχθρα . . . πλὴν ταύτης (‘any enmity . . . except for this’). For the concessive phrase, see §4n. §44. συκοϕαντῶν (‘maliciously’, lit. ‘being a sykophant’). The term ‘sykophant’ has been extensively discussed in recent scholarship (R. G. Osborne 1990 with response by Harvey 1990; Christ 1998: 48–71). There is general agreement that it is a form of rhetoric used by defendants in private cases and by both parties in public litigation to describe litigation that is felt by the speaker to be ‘vexatious’, though there is disagreement as to how far the sykophant is a real ﬁgure who made it his practice to bring prosecutions in the hope of exacting hush-money from wealthy defendants, and how far a way in which élite Athenians sought to construct a negative image of the litigious ‘other’. For personal enmity as a motive for litigation, see §4n. Litigation as a motive for enmity is a less common

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development of the theme, though there are parallels (e.g. as a motive for murder in Ant. First Tetral. 1.5–8, and as a motive for revolution in Ant. On the Revolution, frag. 1a col. i lines 9–12 [Blass & Thalheim] ): in both these passages it is the defendant who is expected to have the hypothetical motive, following cases against him that have already been completed coupled with the prospect of defeat in further litigation. γραϕάς . . . ἐγράψατο (‘[had not] brought a public prosecution’). The ﬁrst four motives hypothesised here relate explicitly or otherwise to litigation, with a shift of tenses from aorist to imperfect distinguishing between completed graphai and other procedures deemed to be ongoing (see previous note). The distinction between graphai and dikai (here translated respectively as ‘public’ and ‘private’ prosecutions) was fundamentally that the latter could be brought only by the aggrieved party, and tended to involve lower risks for one side and lower penalties for the other; public prosecutions were usually more serious, and tended to involve cases where an individual victim could not appropriately take action, as in the case of orphans or widows, or where the offence was deemed to be in some sense against the community: see generally Todd (1993: 109–112). ‘Expel from the city’ (see following note) evidently implies some form of public procedure that would result in exile or atimia (loss of civic rights). οὔτε ἐκβάλλειν ἐκ τῆς πόλεως ἐπεχείρησεν (‘he was not trying to expel me from the city’). Given the recent history of the two oligarchies, and given the way that the Orators of the early fourth century use this verb to describe those seeking to force their opponents into political exile (Isok. 16.8, 12; Lys. 25.9, 18), this could be read as an attempt to portray Eratosthenes in language appropriate to a political revolutionary (cf. pp. 59–60 above). συνῄδη . . . δεδιώς (‘know . . . fearing . . .’). As an afterthought, Lysias hypothesises a ﬁfth motive, that of killing for money. This neatly serves to make the list of motives ridiculous, because if you want to exact money from a moikhos, the last thing you do is kill him. §45. τοσούτου τοίνυν δεῖ . . . γεγονέναι, ὥστε . . . (‘so far from there being’, lit. ‘indeed, so far was it from . . . happening, that . . .’). The particle suggests that we are moving from unlikely to still less likely hypotheses, but in fact attention has also shifted subtly from the type of motive that would lead one to plot a killing to the type of motive that would lead to unpremeditated homicide. Lysias here emphasises what the course of the narrative has conditioned us to accept, that Euphiletos had not even heard of Eratosthenes before §16. ἢ λοιδορία ἢ παροινία ἢ αλλη τις διαϕορά (‘a dispute or drunken brawl or any other disagreement’). Loidoria denotes abuse that remains at the level of verbal insult: within the corpus of Lysias it is most frequently found in Lys. 9, where there seem to be no associations with violence, but it is linked to hypothetical drunken violence at Lys. 3.43. Paroinia relates speciﬁcally to the misuse of wine, always by the speaker’s opponent (see 4.8n), and is often associated with the fact

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or threat of violence (as at 3.19n). Diaphora, which is used at Lys. 3.40 to denote (and possibly to undermine) the opponent’s representation of the quarrel, perhaps represents a deliberate attempt here to conclude by ruling out even a weak form of disagreement. §46. ἔπειτα παρακαλέσας (‘and why . . . after summoning’). A ﬁnal rhetorical question acts as a superﬁcially effective postscript: why collect witnesses if you intend to commit a murder? (The force of the autos is to emphasise that these are not just bystanders who might have gathered, but witnesses who had been summoned.) It should however be noted that the function of the posse was not simply that of witnesses: Eratosthenes might have resisted (see §42n). Moreover, if you intend to plead justiﬁable homicide after a killing, you will want as many witnesses as you can get to support your version of events. ἠσέβουν (‘commit this impious act’). Since justiﬁable homicide does not seem systematically to have required ritual puriﬁcation of the killer (Parker 1983: 114 with 366–369), Lysias is presumably placing this word in the prosecutors’ mouths. It is possible that the word refers speciﬁcally to their allegation that Eratosthenes had escaped to the hearth (see §27n), but the limited space devoted to this detail suggests that it lies more broadly in the allegation of unlawful killing. The rôle of religion in the structure of Athenian homicide law is generally accepted by modern scholars,109 even by those such as MacDowell (1963: 141–150 at p. 145) who to my mind under-emphasise the legal signiﬁcance of concepts such as pollution. ἐξόν µοι . . . µηδένα µοι τούτων συνειδέναι (‘it would have been possible for me to have none of them knowing anything about it’). He conveniently ignores the problem of disposing of the body.

§§47–50 Peroration §47. οὐκ ἰδίαν . . . τὴν τιµωρίαν (‘not . . . that this redress . . . privately’). Euphiletos returns to his constant theme: the real case is not the prosecution of Euphiletos for murder, but that of Eratosthenes for moikheia, and he himself acted as the agent of the laws rather than out of private revenge. For the ambiguity of timo¯ria as ‘revenge’ or ‘punishment’ (particularly convenient here), see §2n. οἱ γὰρ τὰ τοιαῦτα πράττοντες (‘men who commit this sort of offence’, lit. ‘do this sort of thing’). The phrase is a euphemism frequent in the Orators, but it is normally used by the prosecutor to refer to the defendant. Here (as in the similar phrasing at §3n), it constitutes a plea not so much to acquit Euphiletos as to convict Eratosthenes. The argument from social consequences is the same as that in §36, but here it is deployed more aggressively.

109

We may note for instance the fact that the competence both of the Basileus (as in Lys. 6.4–5, 6.11) and of the Areiopagos (as in Lys. 7) lay otherwise generally in religious matters.

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ὁρῶντες οἷα τὰ αθλα πρόκειται (‘see the sort of rewards that await’). Prokeimai (LSJ s.v. I.3) is the word normally used to describe a prize being ‘displayed’ before an athletic competition. In contrast with the lack of metaphors throughout the rest of the speech, the peroration has no fewer than three (for the others, see §48n and §49n). On the use of rhetorical ﬁgures in the proem and peroration, see §§1–5n. τὴν αὐτὴν γνώµην (‘the same opinion’). Either ‘the same as you have always held’, or ‘the same as mine’, or perhaps even ‘the same as that held by the law’—or indeed possibly a convenient conﬂation of all these ideas. §48. τοὺς µὲν κειµένους νόµους (‘the existing laws’). The participle keimenos (‘established’) is used to describe nomos (law) on no fewer than 65 occasions in Athenian forensic speeches. There is a marked preference (48 instances) for using the phrase in the plural, as here, which may reﬂect an Athenian tendency to think of their laws as the conceptually uniﬁed product of a single all-wise lawgiver.110 The phrase is found in almost all the Orators, but its distribution among speeches is less regular: we ﬁnd it particularly in those speeches which seek to challenge the legitimacy of a single enactment proposed or relied on by the opponent, by showing that this conﬂicts with the established laws and is therefore unconstitutional.111 ἐξαλεῖψαι (‘to scrub out’). Given that the semantic ﬁeld of the word nomos covers both ‘law’ and ‘custom’, and given the Athenian tendency to regard all the laws as the product of an all-wise lawgiver (see previous note), it is hardly surprising that unchangeability was at all times part of the rhetoric of law (cf. §35n). This seems to have become a particular issue at Athens after 411 bc: the fact that the Four Hundred took power by means of a constitutional coup rather than by force—nobody knew whether they had the right to abolish the graphe¯ paranomo¯n, or to persuade the Assembly to vote itself out of existence, because the possibility had never been envisaged—created a need to deﬁne the status of law itself, which lies at the heart of the legal reforms of 410–400 (cf. Lys. 30, with extensive discussion in Todd 1996: 120–131), and of the process of nomothesia whereby laws were for the ﬁrst time given precedence over decrees. It is against this background that the prospect of erasing the laws takes on particular horror, 110 Various implications of this are fruitfully explored by Thomas (1994) and by Johnstone (1999: 25–33). 111 Fairly even distribution between orators: no examples in Lykourgos, Hypereides or Deinarkhos, but only small numbers of their speeches survive; ﬁve examples in Antiphon, which implies that it is not simply a by-product of the constitutional changes of 403/2. Uneven distribution between speeches: of the 34 examples in Demosthenes, 25 occur in the four prosecution speeches from graphe¯ paranomo¯n or related procedures seeking to invalidate a new legislative proposal (Dem. 20 and Dem. 22–24), but none in the one graphe¯ paranomo¯n defence speech (Dem. 18, whereas Aiskhin. 3 prosecuting in this case uses the phrase six times). It is similarly common in Andok. 1 (seven examples), which seeks among other things to prove that the Amnesty of 403 has invalidated the Decree of Isotimides.

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as also in Lys. 6.8 and Lys. 30.5. The metaphor implied by the choice of verb here raises important questions in the debate over how Athenians at this date visualised the relationship between laws and written texts (cf. §30n), but without conclusively being able to answer them. We might expect exaleipho¯ to refer most naturally to the wiping-away of charcoal or ink,112 which in this context would imply that he is visualising the laws as texts written presumably on papyrus in the Me¯tro¯on (as is certainly the case in Lyk. 1.66, dated in the 330s). But there is one clear case of exaleipho¯ (rather than e.g. kathaireo¯ ‘destroy’ or ekkopto¯ ‘cut out’) being used to describe excision speciﬁcally from a ste¯le¯ (SEG 24 [1969], 151.24), which may suggest that the metaphor could be used loosely. For the use of metaphor in the peroration of this speech, see §47n. οἵτινες τοὺς µὲν ϕυλάττοντας τὰς ἑαυτῶν γυναῖκας ταῖς ζηµίαις ζηµιώσουσι (‘which would impose penalties on men who guard their own wives’). A heavily ironical statement of some of the disastrous consequences that would result from a verdict against Euphiletos, with strong emphasis on the importance of marriage as something to be guarded from people who offend against it. The future tense of ze¯mioo¯ could be read as a statement of purpose, as if such a decision would be equivalent to creating laws designed to punish honest men and to let criminals escape scot-free. πολλὴν αδειαν ποιήσουσι (‘would grant total security’). For adeia, see §36n. §49. ἢ ὑπὸ τῶν νόµων τοὺς πολίτας ἐνεδρεύεσθαι (‘than to let citizens be trapped by the laws’). Yet another metaphor (see §47n), in this case picking up the theme of danger from §45 κινδ$νευον. Given what has been said at §§34–36 about the rule of law within a democratic polis, the prospect that those citizens who rely on the law might themselves be trapped by it is worryingly unnatural for an Athenian audience. κελεύουσι (‘instruct’). For the manipulation of the ambiguity of keleuo¯, see §27n. ὅ τι αν οὖν βούληται (‘in any way he pleases’). The nearest we have to a law phrased in these terms is the one reported at Dem. 59.66, that if an alleged moikhos brings a prosecution for false arrest (graphe¯ adiko¯s heirkhthe¯nai, cf. Lipsius 1905–15: 434–435, Harrison 1968–71.i: 33) but loses the case, he is to be handed over to the man who had caught him ‘in the lawcourt to treat in any way he pleases, without a knife’ (π δ& το' δικαστηρου α%νευ γχειριδου χρ8σθαι 9 τι αgν βουληθ^). Several scholars have sought to maximise the signiﬁcance of the knife-clause, arguing either that it might represent a more general ban on killing rather than simply on the use of one particular weapon, or alternatively that a ban speciﬁcally on the use of a knife might have applied throughout the captor’s

112

Rhodes (2001.i: 34–35) discusses the use of the verb to denote the removal of individual items from temporary records on whitened boards (pinakes, grammateia, etc.).

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treatment of the moikhos including at the moment of arrest.113 Acceptance of the second of these theories would of course provide an additional reason for Lysias to suppress the details of the killing from the narrative (cf. §42n for the inference that at least some members of the posse were so armed). But the case for extending the provision in either way is by no means secure—E. M. Harris (1990: 374) has suggested that the ban might be designed to avoid polluting the lawcourt by the shedding of blood—and there are other possible explanations for suppressing the killing from the narrative, as discussed at §27n. οἱ δ̓ ἀγῶνες (‘the courts’), lit. ‘contests’, but used here (as often in the Orators) in the sense of ‘trials’ in a law-court (e.g. in this vol. alone: 3.20; 5.5; 6.4; 7.2; 9.3; 10.1). §50. περὶ τοῦ σώµατος . . . περὶ τῶν χρηµάτων . . . περὶ τῶν αλλων ἁπάντων (‘for my person, my property, and all that is mine’). MacDowell (1963: 117) notes the possibility that so¯ma (‘person’, lit. ‘body’) here could cover either death or (if Euphiletos chose to abandon his case and go into exile following the ﬁrst set of speeches) exile with loss of civic rights; he uses this passage to argue persuasively for the proposition that conﬁscation of property was combined with either death or exile for those convicted of deliberate homicide (1963: 115–117). The third term of Euphiletos’ tricolon, by contrast, is so vague as to have little meaning, since it is hard to see what else he has to lose. It does however enable Lysias to ﬁnish the speech with a rhetorical ﬂourish, as beﬁts a peroration (see §47n). ἐπειθόµην (‘I obeyed’). Albini (1955: 413 n. 15) translates this as ‘I had conﬁdence in’ rather than ‘I obeyed’, on the grounds that the law entitles him to kill but does not command it. But the whole thrust of the speech is directed towards building up the fallacious impression that the law does command it (see §27n). 113 Thus e.g. Kapparis (1995b:115, cf. 1996: 65) regards the knife as proxy for a wider ban on killing unless this was done at the moment of arrest; D. Cohen (1984: 158, cf. 1991a: 120–121), by contrast, suggests tentatively that the knife ban might have applied at this moment also.

Lysias 2 Funeral Speech for those who Assisted the Corinthians Introduction I. PUBLIC FUNERALS AND FUNERAL SPEECHES The dramatic setting of Lysias 2 is the annual Athenian ceremony of burying the war-dead. This is described in some detail by Thucydides (Thuc. 2.34),1 who says that the Athenians made it their practice at least in wartime to bring back the— presumably already cremated—bones of those who had died in battle during the previous year for interment at a public burial-site (de¯mosion se¯ma) in ‘the most beautiful quarter of the city’ (evidently the Kerameikos).2 He describes the prothesis or laying out of the remains in ten tribal chests or cofﬁns,3 together with an additional one for those whose bodies had not been recovered,4 and concludes by noting that interment was followed by a logos epitaphios or funeral oration delivered by a ‘man chosen by the polis’ (2.34.6). Thucydides’ emphasis that this was a ceremony held at Athens seems to provide an implied contrast with the practice of other Greek cities, which was to bury 1 The timing of the ceremony within the year is open to discussion: Thucydides speaks of it as an annual winter event (2.34.1), but Hypereides’ epitaphios seems to have been delivered in Spring 322. Pritchett (1971–91.iv: 111) argues that there may have been some ﬂexibility over the date; Loraux (1986: 37–38) suggests also that the component parts of the ceremony could have taken place in stages. 2 Thuc. 2.34.5. For the signiﬁcance in Greek hero-cult of burial at the city gate, see Loraux (1986: 40). 3 For the rôle of prothesis and ekphora in private funerals, see 1.8n. We are not told how the remains of each tribe’s war-dead were identiﬁed (some of the potential problems can be inferred from Menander, Aspis, 68–79). 4 This may imply that only the bodies of citizens were buried in this ceremony, but it is not decisive, because metic hoplites too were tribally brigaded. Lys. 2.66 implies that those foreigners who had died ﬁghting for the democrats in 403/2 were among those buried in the Kerameikos; and it is worth noting that Thucydides emphasises the participation of metics alongside citizens in the ekphora (carrying out of the corpses), as well as the presence of female relatives mourning at the tomb. See further pp. 162–163 below (on the question of whether Lysias could have delivered the speech, and on the praise for fallen metics in Lys. 2.66).

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those killed in battle on or near the battleﬁeld.5 He describes the ceremony as an Athenian ancestral custom (patrios nomos, 2.34.1), and claims that their only war-dead not to lie in the Kerameikos were those killed at the battle of Marathon in 490 bc, who as a mark of special distinction were buried on the battleﬁeld itself. It is possible (though this motivation would not be unique to Athens) that one of the reasons for repatriation was to make it easier for the dead to receive continuing cult-honours as heroes—we have independent evidence for such offerings, as well as for the celebration of some form of funeral games as part of the annual ceremony, although Thucydides makes no mention of this6—in which case Marathon’s location within Attica might have provided an additional reason for its special status, since proximity would facilitate such continuing cult-activity, and the cultic power of the bodies would remain within Athenian sovereign territory.7 There do however seem to have been at least some other cases of battleﬁeld burial, most notably at Plataia in 479 bc (Hdt. 9.85.2), and there is room for debate as to whether the origins of the custom may have been more recent than Thucydides acknowledges.8 But even if the custom was ancestral, there is reason to suspect that its meaning will have undergone signiﬁcant change since the end of the archaic period. As has been pointed out most notably in a ground-breaking study by Loraux (1986), the surviving funeral speeches provide the nearest we have to an ofﬁcial democratic reading of Athenian history, set within the context of funeral ceremonies which in Homer’s world were conﬁned to the individual aristocrat, but which in democratic Athens were rendered both anonymous and collective, so as to commemorate ordinary Athenian ﬁghting men (particularly hoplites) rather than their political or military leaders.9 The context of Thucydides’ account of the ceremony is his version of Perikles’ funeral speech in honour of those killed in 431/30 bc during the ﬁrst year of the

5

Jacoby (1944: 42–43), with refs. For the games, and Thucydides’ silence, see §80n. 7 The beneﬁts which could accrue from having even a non-Athenian hero’s body buried in Athenian territory form a signiﬁcant theme in e.g. Soph. Oed.Col. 1518–1538 (Oedipus’ body), and Eurip. Hkld. 1026–1044 (that of Eurystheus: rather surprisingly, nothing is said about this at Lys. 2.11–16). 8 Thus Jacoby (1944: 55), who argues for other early exceptions alongside Plataia, and uses Pausanias’ statement that the ﬁrst of those buried in the Kerameikos were the dead from the campaign at Drabeskos (πρτοι δ& τα´φησαν, Pausan. 1.29.4) as evidence that the custom was introduced only in 465/4. This was challenged by Gomme (Gomme, Andrewes & Dover 1945–81.ii: 94–101), for whom the custom was an old one, though he accepts Jacoby’s contention that Thucydides has blundered by failing to note certainly Plataia and perhaps other exceptions also. 9 Samons (2004: 57 n. 74) objects that explicit references to democracy in the funeral speeches are limited in number, but does not confront Loraux’s arguments for the democratisation of the ceremony. A more nuanced critique is that of Morris, who notes the increasing development of family monuments from c.425, with expensive private cenotaphs for war-victims like Dexileos in 394 coexisting with the de¯mosion se¯ma (Morris 1992: 128–155, at p. 143). For the two named Athenians in the present speech, see §42n and §52n; for hoplites, see §26n. 6

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Peloponnesian War (Thuc. 2.34–46),10 which is the most famous representative of the genre but by no means the only one. We possess in all some half-dozen funeral speeches,11 although none of them is a complete text of a speech which can safely be assumed to have been delivered. There has for instance been considerable scholarly debate as to whether and how far Thucydides’ funeral speech is an accurate rendition of a Periklean original, or a reworking, or a free composition,12 though what is perhaps most signiﬁcant for the purpose of this commentary is the extent to which themes from Thucydides’ speech recur to some extent in the fourth-century funeral orations,13 while in other respects (e.g. the suppression of mythological paradigms) his speech is entirely unlike them. An entirely different set of problems applies to the other surviving funeral speech from the late ﬁfth century, where the attribution to the rhetorician and sophist Gorgias is not contested, but of all the surviving funeral speeches it is the most deﬁnitely a literary exercise rather than a real speech, and also the most fragmentary: quotations in later authors preserve only a couple of phrases and one 200-word paragraph of continuous text (the latter quoted in the lost introduction to Dionysios of Halikarnassos’ essay On the Style of Demosthenes, which is itself quoted by Planudes).14 The nearest we have to a full and genuine speech is Hypereides’ oration for the dead of the Lamian War, which is agreed to have been delivered in 322 bc: substantial chunks survive on a papyrus ﬁrst published in 1858. By contrast, the speech attributed to Demosthenes honouring those who died at Khaironeia in 338 bc survives complete as Dem. 60, but there is room for doubt over its authorship, although Demosthenes is certainly known to have delivered the funeral speech on this occasion (cf. Dem. 18.285). Falling between 10 Dion.Hal. (On Thuc. §18) criticises Thucydides’ funeral speech on rhetorical grounds, for being located at the end of a year in which the few who had died had done so without any glorious achievement, though he does note that to have delayed it until 425 or 413 would have made it impossible to place it in the mouth of Perikles. Such criticism, however, misses the dramatic effect created by the juxtaposition of the funeral speech (2.35–46) with the plague (2.47), as well as more generally ignoring the extent to which the individual dead in this genre are assimilated to the glory either of their polis or of their ancestors. 11 There is a useful translation of all six, with introductions and brief annotation, by Herrman (2003). 12 The trend in recent scholarship has been to see the speech as the work of Thucydides: for a contrary view, reading it as a putatively Periklean response speciﬁcally to the political situation of 430, see Bosworth (2000). 13 The greater the overlap, the stronger would be the inference either that later speeches are reacting to Thucydides or that Thucydides is accurately reproducing the themes of 5th-cent. speeches. Identiﬁcation of topoi is necessarily more subjective than the identiﬁcation of mythological or historical paradigms in the ﬁve non-Thucydidean speeches (for which the fullest account is Ziolkowski 1993: 27–29), but Loraux (1986: 181) has tabulated a series of what she terms democratic criteria attested in the extant funeral speeches and related texts: analysis of her ﬁgures reveals that of the nine such topoi found in Perikles’ speech, eight recur in at least one other funeral speech, though only one of these is found in all six speeches and none of the other ﬁve speeches displays more than ﬁve of Thucydides’ nine. 14 Scholia on Hermogenes, V.548–551 (Walz). In addition to Herrman (for which see n. 11 above), there is a translation in Usher’s Loeb edition of Dion.Hal.’s Critical Essays, vol. 1, pp.238–241.

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these two sets of dramatic dates are the two remaining speeches. One of these is Lysias 2, which purports to honour those who died ‘assisting the Corinthians’ evidently during the Corinthian War of 395–387. The other is to be found in Plato’s dialogue Menexenos, the core of which consists of a funeral speech placed in the mouth of Sokrates, who claims that he is reciting a text originally composed by Aspasia, the mistress of Perikles. Among the many oddities of this text are its blatant anachronisms, and in particular the fact that it takes its narrative of Athenian history down to the King’s Peace of 387 bc, twelve years after Sokrates’ death.15 It is indeed so problematic as a speech that many earlier scholars denied the authenticity of the whole dialogue, but it is generally now agreed to be genuinely by Plato and in some sense a parody or pastiche: we shall be examining its relationship to Lysias 2 at pp. 153–157 below.16 To classify the six texts mentioned in the previous paragraph as funeral speeches is already to extend the boundaries of the genre broadly enough to include not simply speeches written for delivery, but also literary constructs embedded within historical or philosophical works on the one hand, and selfcontained rhetorical exercises on the other. Mention should also be made, however, of several other texts which while not themselves funeral speeches nevertheless reﬂect aspects of the genre. It has long been noted, for instance, that large parts of the mythological and historical sections of Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos or Panegyric Speech of c.380 bc resemble the accounts of the same events in Lys. 2 so closely as to suggest that material has been lifted from one speech to the other.17 The fact that the two works serve different purposes, however, and in particular that the Pane¯gyrikos is a plea for Athens to lead a panhellenic crusade against Persia, is one criterion which may help to determine who is borrowing from whom, a question which (as we shall see at pp. 157–163 below) has implications for the date and ultimately the authorship of our speech.18 Finally, there are a couple of speeches in Herodotos which have been identiﬁed by scholars as being

15

Since Aspasia’s son, Perikles the younger, was old enough to serve as General at Arginousai in 406 bc (an ofﬁce for which the minimum age was apparently 30), Aspasia herself would at the very least have been a very old woman by 387, and she may well have been dead: this is something that the original audience would have known, even though we do not. Similarly, Arkhinos makes no other appearance in our sources after the immediate aftermath of the Democratic Restoration (Ath.Pol. 40.2), before being described at Menex. 234b10 as a leading candidate to deliver that year’s speech. On the anachronisms, see now Rosenstock (1994) and Dean-Jones (1995), both arguing that Sokrates is being represented as in some sense speaking from the grave. 16 A full survey of scholars who have attacked the authenticity of the Menexenos is given by Tsitsiridis (1998: 21–41): the latest of these is an article by Momigliano in RFIC 1930. 17 Several scholars have similarly noted parallels between the Demosthenic epitaphios and Lyk. 1 (Loraux 1986: 126 with 393 n. 210): epitaphic themes in the latter speech include the myth of Eumolpos (§§98–101), various Persian War battles (§§108–109), and a formal eulogy for the dead of Khaironeia (§§46–51). 18 It is also worth noting that whereas a funeral speech (or at least a genuine one) was expected to function as ‘one of the authorised mouthpieces of classical Athens’ (Loraux 1986: 5), this constraint did not apply to the political pamphlets of Isokrates, whose reading of Athenian history is at least crypto-oligarchic.

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based on the epitaphic genre.19 One of these in particular, the Athenians’ response to the Tegeans claiming the second place of honour behind the Spartans at the battle of Plataia (Hdt. 9.27), deploys a series of mythological topoi very similar to those in Plato’s Menexenos, Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos, and Lys. 2; this suggests that these topoi must have been part of the genre at least as early as 430 bc.

II. INTERTEXT AND ALLUSION WITHIN THE GENRE Thucydides’ success as a historian, together with the attribution of his speech to Perikles and its status as one of few surviving statements of ﬁfth-century democratic ideology, can make it hard for us to escape the shadow of his work.20 Almost every modern reader comes across this before any of the other funeral speeches, with the result that we can too easily (because subconsciously) regard his speech as the norm from which the remainder are deviating. But in fact the rules of the genre seem to permit considerable variation. Gorgias’ speech is admittedly too fragmentary to permit meaningful structural analysis, but Demosthenes’ funeral speech for instance is notable for the extended and indeed somewhat laboured way that Athens’ mythical past is set within the context of the tribal system in which its hoplite army was brigaded, while that of Hypereides displays strikingly personal emphasis on the leadership given by the dead commander Leosthenes, who is depicted being welcomed with his companions into Hades by the great heroes of the past in a memorable passage which recalls the ﬁnal book of the Odyssey. Thucydides’ funeral speech, however, is perhaps the most deviant of all, at least in its choice of subject-matter. Perhaps ironically for a historian—though his concept of history notoriously subordinates the past to the contemporary present—he explicitly eschews discussion of Athens’ glorious past (Thuc. 2.36.4), whether mythical or historic, in favour of an extended eulogy of the Athenians’ politeia (constitution and/or collective way of life), which is contrasted explicitly and in detail with that of other poleis (2.36.4–2.41.5). Given this background, it is perhaps dangerous to speak of the ‘typical’ funeral speech, but if any of them deserve this designation, it is arguably those of Lysias— which is one of the things that gives the text its particular interest—and (in a more complex way) of Plato. It is now generally agreed among scholars that the funeral speech in the Menexenos is in some sense a pastiche on the genre, but 19

Walters (1980: 1 n. 3), following Meyer (1892–99.ii: 219–220, whose main emphasis lies in the argument that the epitaphios was a local Athenian product earlier than Gorgias), identiﬁes not only Hdt. 9.27 but also 7.161, though the latter is in my opinion less convincing. 20 For the impact of nineteenth-century idealisations of Thucydides as ‘scientiﬁc’ historian, see Stahl (2003: 13–35), and Finley (1985b: 47–53). He does not seem to have held such a high status in antiquity (though Hornblower 1995 rightly emphasises that his fourth-century readership should not be underestimated). Dionysios of Halikarnassos, for instance, not only criticises Thucydides’ location of Perikles’ funeral speech (p. 151 n. 10 above), but eulogises the Menexenos as the most important of Plato’s political dialogues (On the Style of Demosthenes, §23). For Lucian’s reading of Thucydides, see Greenwood (2006: 109–129).

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attempts to locate it as a parody of a particular text have been less successful.21 Sokrates’ attribution of the speech to Aspasia would at ﬁrst sight imply that it is Perikles who is Plato’s target, whether as memorable speaker in 430 bc or perhaps more likely as mediated through Thucydides, given that the latter will have been writing at a date that may have been much closer to the composition of Plato’s text in the aftermath of the King’s Peace of 387.22 Some of the details in Plato’s speech can certainly be read as a subversion of Thucydides’ text, including for instance the extended discussion of the Athenian politeia (Menex. 238c1–239a4). Whereas Thucydides had taken as his starting-point the uniqueness of Athens in favouring the many, and hence the term ‘democracy’ (de¯mokratia, Thuc. 2.37.1), Plato by contrast emphasises the superﬁcial nature of such constitutional changes as the abolition of hereditary monarchy and of such terms as de¯mokratia (238c7– d1) and insists that Athens’ constitution is in reality the same as it has always been, an ‘aristocracy supported by popular consent’.23 Nevertheless, Plato’s speech cannot be read simply as a parody of Thucydides’, since it focuses extensively on precisely those aspects of Athenian myth and history to which Thucydides offers no space. Indeed, as far as content is concerned, Plato’s strongest resemblances are with Lysias, though there are also signiﬁcant differences.24 Of the similarities, the most obvious are the broad overlaps in theme and subject matter,25 such as the emphasis placed in both speeches on Athens as champion of liberty, and on envy and jealousy as the motives for 21 The views of earlier scholars are well collected by Clavaud (1980: 37–77), but the dialogue has received particular attention since that date, from scholars such as Loraux (1986: e.g. p. 94 ‘as a hymn to Greek freedom, it is no more than a pastiche of Lysias’ epitaphios’, cf. in more detail at pp.304–327); Coventry (‘parody’, 1989: 4); Ziolkowski (‘satirising Lysias in particular’, 1993: 18); Rosenstock (‘a ﬁne line between overt parody [of the Thucydidean speech] . . . and a successful display of his mastery of the rhetorical conventions’, 1994: 333); Dean-Jones (‘pastiche of conventional tropes’, 1995: 51); and Monoson (‘Plato’s opposition to the veneration of Pericles’, 2000: 182), all of whom agree in seeing it as a genuine work of Plato. There is a good analysis of the use of terms like ‘parody’, ‘fantasy’, and ‘irony’ in this context by Méridier (1964: 53), who himself emphasises that Plato may have had multiple targets in his sights. 22 For the former view, see e.g. Rosenstock (1994: 332–333); for the latter, see Kahn (1963: 221–223, though at 1963: 231 he acknowledges an even closer relationship with Lysias) and in detail Monoson (2000: 181–205). On the problems inherent in the question of when Thucydides ‘published’ the various parts of his work, see Hornblower (1991–.ii: 27), who rightly emphasises the possible prior recitation of oral versions. 23 µετ’ εδοξα πλθου α2ριστοκρατα (Menex. 238d1–2). M. M. Henderson (1975: 38 n. 55) seeks to dismiss the subversive nature of this claim on the grounds that it was an ‘oratorical habit to claim that a democracy was really an aristocracy’ (his italics), but this ignores the signiﬁcance of genre: he relies heavily on Isok. 12.131 and 12.153, but these are epideictic pamphlets which can afford to be much more oligarchic (or at least crypto-oligarchic, cf. p. 152 n. 18 above) than is expected of a funeral speech. 24 The fullest catalogues both of similarities and of differences can be found in Lattanzi (1935: 358–359), Colin (1938.i: 230–234), and particularly M. M. Henderson (1975: 25–29) and Ziolkowski (1993: 27–29). 25 Cf. the observation of Ziolkowski (1993: 13) that if we exclude the four words which occur in all these speeches (Asia, Barbaroi, Hellas, Helle¯nes), the number of names found only in Lysias and in Plato is eleven, whereas no other combination of speeches yields an overlap of more than four.

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Athens’ enemies in the ﬁrst Peloponnesian War.26 Perhaps more important, however, in establishing the closeness of the relationship between the two texts, are small but striking verbal matches like the size of the Persian army at Marathon, rated by both authors as ‘50 myriads’.27 Such resemblances have encouraged many scholars to see Lysias as the primary target of Plato’s Menexenos,28 and this theory would seem capable of further development, because there are a number of passages in Plato which would take on added point in such a case. On several occasions during his narrative, details are introduced which can be read as subverting the silence of Lysias, for instance at Marathon, where mention is made of Athens’ having assisted in sacking Sardis at the outbreak of the Ionian Revolt, and of the Persians’ having sailed ﬁrst against Eretria before attacking Marathon. The ﬁrst of these details, though introduced by Plato as a pretext for Darius’ expedition,29 nevertheless draws attention to Athenian aggression, in sharp contrast to Lysias’ claim that Darius ‘was not content with what he already possessed, but wanted to enslave Europe as well’;30 the second detail serves to undermine Lysias’ fundamental claim about Marathon, which is that Athens faced the Persians both isolated and unsupported. This undermines one of the fundamental functions of funeral oratory, which has been well described as ‘creat[ing] a myth, a reality of words, which explained aggression as assistance and altruism and which transformed isolation from that of a tyrannical city into the desertion of Athenians by other Greeks, a desertion which left them the solitary defenders of the common cause’.31 Plato’s version of the Civil War, on the other hand, is so extraordinarily laudatory that it is difﬁcult to take at face value, which may suggest a sarcastic

26 Refs. in M. M. Henderson (1975: 30), who argues that both themes are unique to these two speeches. 27 Lys. 2.21 and Pl. Menex. 240a6. Herodotos gives no ﬁgure, and neither the phrase nor the number is found in any of the sources for this campaign cited by Tsitsiridis (1998: 269). 28 Thus e.g. Colin (1938.i: 216 n. 3 and 230–234), and Avezzù (1988: 214, with particular reference to the Thirty). Lattanzi (1935: 357–358) observes that the two speeches are written as if for the same dramatic occasion, though without arguing the case. Hude (1917: 11–12), Kahn (1963: 231, cf. p. 154 n. 22 above), and Loraux (1986: 94, cited at p. 154 n. 21 above), all see Plato as responding either to the genre as a whole or to a number of texts including Thucydides as well as Lysias, but with special emphasis on the latter. 29 Pl. Menex. 240a4–6: ατιασα´µενο δ& ∆αρε;ο Gµα˜ τε κα Ε 2 ρετρια˜, Σα´ρδεσιν πιβουλε'σαι προφασιζ*µενο (‘Darius brought an accusation against us and against Eretria, putting forward the pretext that we had plotted against Sardis’); Tsitsiridis (1998: 267) sees parallels in Hdt. 6.94.1 (προφα´σιο) to the language of pretext here. That Eretria was the joint target is repeated at 240a8, and Persian military activity there is described in detail at 240b1–c2, with a stratagem which appears to have been unnecessarily introduced from Herodotos’ account of the Persian capture of Khios, Lesbos and Tenedos after the Ionian Revolt (Hdt. 6.31.2). 30 Lys. 2.21: οκ α2γαπν το; 7πα´ρχουσιν α2γαθο;, α2λλ’ λπζων κα τDν Ερ=πην δουλ=σεσθαι. 31 Tyrrell (1984: 15). The omission of Eretria is by no means Lysias’ most striking contribution to the historiography of the Marathon campaign: see §§20–26n, on the suppression of the Plataians.

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exaggeration of Lysias’ heroising account.32 In addition to these narrative details, there are certain differences of phrasing which may be intertextual. Plato’s description of ‘the children of this land, our own parents’, for instance, is both unusual and emphatic, and it is tempting to read this as a dig at Lysias’ repeated assertion that his subject is ‘our’ ancestors: both would take on added point if our speech is genuinely by Lysias, since Lysias was a metic not an Athenian.33 Indeed, such a hypothesis might allow even the presence of Aspasia to be read as a subversion not just of Perikles and/or Thucydides (as we have seen) but also on another level of Lysias: the imputation being that Lysias is not only (like Aspasia) a metic interfering in Athenian affairs, but that his activity as orator is itself a form of prostitution.34 This reading of Aspasia’s rôle is admittedly speculative, but the broader theory that Lysias is a target for Plato’s dialogue is nevertheless attractive, though it is important neither to exaggerate the resemblances nor to rush to conclusions. We have already mentioned the existence of differences between the two speeches, and it is worth drawing attention particularly to the presence of independent narrative details in the historical section of both of them.35 Perhaps more signiﬁcant, however, is a small difference in the mythological narrative which does not seem to have received attention.36 Lysias recounts in detail three myths, in which the Athenians ﬁrst defeat the Amazon invasion which threatens the freedom of Greece (§§4–6), then recover the bodies of the Seven Against Thebes at the request of the Argives (§§7–10), and ﬁnally defend the suppliant status of the Herakleidai (children of Herakles) when this is threatened by their father’s enemy Eurystheus (§§11–16). Plato on the other hand alludes in passing to a wider 32 Note particularly the description of the moderation which accompanied the war to reincorporate Eleusis into the Athenian democracy in 401/0 (τ*ν τε πρ τοZ Ε 2 λευσ;νι π*λεµον µετρω -θεντο, at Menex. 243e6–244a1): there is no particular need for Plato to have mentioned this campaign, and the defensiveness of his phrasing draws attention to the treacherous assassination of the Eleusinian Generals that accompanied it (Xen. Hell. 2.4.43). For Lysias’ version of the Civil War, see §§61–65n. 33 Pl. Menex. 239d2–3: ο! τ8σδε τ8 χ=ρα -κγονοι, γον8 δ& Gµ τεροι. For Lysias’ appropriation of Athenian ancestors throughout this speech, see §6n, with other examples at §17, §23, and §32. The question of authorship is discussed in the ﬁnal section of this introduction. 34 Aspasia’s status in Old Comedy as ‘a whore and a monstrous producer of the illegitimate’ is emphasised by M. Henry (1995: 34). 35 See M. M. Henderson (1975: 32–33) and Ziolkowski (1993: 27–29). Details in Lysias but not in Plato include the Athos canal and the bridging of the Hellespont (§§28–29); Thermopylae (§§30–32); Themistokles’ rôle at Salamis (§42); the fortiﬁcation of the Isthmus (misdated, §44); and the naval battle at Aigina and the Geraneia campaign (§§49–53). Details in Plato but not in Lysias include the early history of the Persian royal family (Cyrus at 239d6 and Cambyses at 239e2); Eurymedon and the Cyprus campaign (241d4–e2); and Tanagra and Oinophyta (242a6–b4). Overall, Lysias devotes his chief attention to Salamis (§§32–43), as one might expect from a democratic reading of Athenian history, and glosses very quickly (at §§54–57) over events between Geraneia in c.458 and the Civil War of 404–403; Plato on the other hand regards Marathon as the primary act of liberation (240e6–241a2, the climax of a narrative which began at 240a4), and focuses his narrative particularly on the Peloponnesian War (242c2–243d7). 36 The absence of Eumolpos in Lysias, as opposed to Plato, is noted but not fully discussed by Roy (1993: 36 n. 1) and by Frangeskou (1999: 321).

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selection of myths, including the contest of Athene and Poseidon over the Acropolis (Menex. 237c7–d1), and Demeter’s introduction of grain to Attica (Menex. 237e7–238a3), but when he does albeit brieﬂy cover the same ground as Lysias, he catalogues not three myths but four: in front of Lysias’ three, he adds also Eumolpos, a mythical king of Eleusis who had led an unsuccessful invasion of Thracians against Athens (Menex. 239b3–7). The closest parallel to this catalogue of four myths is to be found in Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos, which lists two invasions, those of the Thracians led by Eumolpos and of the Skythians led by the Amazons (4.68–70), in close proximity to the accounts of the recovery of the bodies of the Seven and the defence of the Herakleidai as suppliants (4.54–65). It would seem unlikely that Plato is using Isokrates as a direct source here, since the Pane¯gyrikos is not itself a funeral speech, but Isokrates’ list may be evidence that Eumolpos was one of a fairly small group of myths common to funeral speeches.37 All in all, it is probably best to see Plato as on one level responding to the genre, albeit with particular reference to the speeches of Thucydides and especially of Lysias, rather than to see him parodying Lysias as his sole target.38

III. AUTHENTICITY, DATE, AND CONTEXT OF DELIVERY We have already noted that the relationship between Lys. 2 and Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos is so close as to suggest that material has been borrowed from one speech to the other. The nature and particularly the direction of this borrowing is important for present purposes because of its implications for the date and authenticity of our speech. The Pane¯gyrikos is universally agreed to be a genuine work of Isokrates. The political situation that it presupposes is the aftermath of the King’s Peace of 387 bc, and it is generally thought to have been completed c.380, though Isokrates is said by ancient writers to have taken ten or alternatively ﬁfteen years over its composition.39 If the consensus of ancient critics is correct in 37

The earliest parallel is the Athenian speech at Hdt. 9.27.2–4 (cf. above at p. 153), which lists the Herakleidai, the Seven Against Thebes, the defeat of the Amazons, and Athens’ contribution at Troy. This suggests that Lysias’ three myths at least were being associated in epitaphic contexts a generation earlier, although Eumolpos is not included. Two other passages in Isokrates list parallel invasions which do include Eumolpos, whether explicitly or otherwise: Isok. 6.41 mentions as items not worth discussing the Amazons, the Thracians (evidently under Eumolpos) and the Peloponnesians under Eurystheus (i.e. the defence of the Herakleidai seen from another perspective), whereas Isok. 12.193–194 offers a fuller narrative of invasions by the Thracians under Eumolpos, the Skythians led by the Amazons, and the Peloponnesians under Eurystheus. Neither speech of Isokrates has a close overall relationship with funeral speeches (cf. especially the reasons given for the invasions in Isok. 12, in contrast with the absence of motive common in epitaphioi, cf. §§4–6n), but together they suggest that this is a group of myths often cited together in this connection. 38 Clavaud (1980: 243) suggests that Plato is mocking Gorgias as well as or instead of Thucydides: although the possibility is attractive, nevertheless too little survives of Gorgias’ speech to permit any detailed structural analysis. 39 Thus Ps.-Plut. Life of Isokrates, 837f4–7. For the c.380 date, see most recently Usher (1999: 19), who sets the panhellenic agenda of the speech against the background of the changing balance of power during the previous decade.

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believing that Isokrates borrowed from Lysias,40 this would mean that Lys. 2 must have been completed very soon after its dramatic date, which, as we shall see, is some time in the late 390s. There is however the possibility that ancient critics were misled by assumptions about dramatic dates, and a signiﬁcant number of scholars particularly in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century argued that the relationship between the two texts was actually the other way round.41 If that is the case, then it is difﬁcult to ﬁnd time for our speech to have been written by Lysias,42 whose latest securely datable speeches belong at the end of the 380s,43 and indeed those scholars who accept the priority of Isokrates tend to agree in regarding our speech as a sophistic imitation from the late fourth century or after. This view has however been opposed in some detail by more recent scholarship,44 and the general consensus is now to accept the priority of Lys. 2. Debate has focused on a number of areas, some of which are necessarily subjective. While there is general agreement that the Pane¯gyrikos is a speech of high quality, for instance, scholars’ opinions of the literary merit of Lys. 2 have varied considerably, with those who see it as plagiarised also tending to regard it as a bad speech.45 Certainly it is a highly mannered piece of writing, but it is 40 Thus Theon, Progymnasmata, in Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, vol. 2 p. 63, lines 30–1 (‘in Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos, too, you can ﬁnd things that are in Lysias’ Funeral Speech and Olympic Speech’); Photios, Bibl. 487b31–40 (‘in his Pane¯gyrikos are appropriated many of the things said by Arkhinos and Thucydides and Lysias in their various epitaphic speeches’); Ps.-Plut. Life of Isokrates, 837f4–7 (‘they say he derived the Pane¯gyrikos from the speeches of Gorgias of Leontini and of Lysias’); note however Philostratos, Lives of the Sophists, p. 505 lines 5–14, who accuses him of borrowing only from Gorgias. 41 The fullest statement of the case for Lys. 2’s dependence on Isok. 4 is to be found in E. Wolff (1895: 16–43), but similar conclusions are reached by Eckert (1868: 24–34), Richter (1881: 1–8), Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 205), Pohlenz (1913: 291 n. 2, reiterated at 1948: 71 in response to Walz [n. 44 below]), Wilamowitz (1920: 127 n. 1), and Albini (1955: 453 n. 15). See also Reuss (1883: 148–150), for whom Lys. 2 is dependent on Isok. 7 (Areopagitikos), produced in 355. 42 This of course ignores the possibility that Lys. 2 could have been written in the 380s in response to preliminary drafts of the Pane¯gyrikos, but it is not clear that such drafts were circulated more widely than the circle of Isokrates’ own pupils (Isok. 12.233–234). 43 The latest speeches preserved in the mediaeval manuscripts are Lys. 10 and Lys. 26 (securely dated to 384/3 bc and to 383/2 bc respectively), though frag. sp. CXXXV For Pherenikos on the Property of Androkleides belongs in 382–379 bc. Dionysios of Halikarnassos (On Lysias, §12) argued that Lysias could not have written the two speeches For Iphikrates, because they belonged in 372/1 and 356/5, whereas he believed Lysias to have died c.378. 44 Most signiﬁcant here are the analyses of Lysias by Walz (1936: 31–50, cf. also the detailed review by Zucker 1940 which agrees with his conclusions though differing on many points) and of Isokrates by Buchner (1958: 11–13 and 65–108). Earlier statements of the same view can be found in Le Beau (1863: 60–68), Girard (1872.ii: 8–13), and Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 42–45). Walz’s case was rejected by Pohlenz and Albini (refs. at n. 41 above), but his arguments are discussed in detail and tentatively accepted by Fernández-Galiano (1953: 27–32), as are those of Buchner by Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 25–28). Kleinow (1981: 15 with n. 10), cites J. Klowski, Zur Echtheitsfrage des lysianischen Epitaphios (diss., Hamburg, 1959), which I have not seen, as another inﬂuential proponent of the case for authenticity. 45 Thus for instance Blass catalogues repeated usages of ﬁgures which he regards as non-Lysianic (overuse of paranomasia, homoioteleuton, parallelism, at 1887 [1868]: 445–446) in support of his claim that this is a ‘sophist adorning himself with vain tinsel’ (‘ein mit dem eitelsten Flitter sich putzender Sophist’, 1887 [1868]: 444). For the tendency of scholars to associate poor literary quality with the absence of named authorship, see R. Hunter, cited at p. 40 n. 152 above.

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also generically unlike the bulk of the surviving Lysianic corpus. The only other comparable epideictic speech to survive is Lys. 33 Olympiakos (‘Olympic Speech’), of which we possess a fragment that is fewer than 450 words (Lys. 2 comprises over 4,000), which would seem an insufﬁcient basis of comparison for us to judge whether this is the sort of speech that Lysias could have written.46 And it is worth emphasising also that the question of authorship is not necessarily decisive for determining the date of composition: we do not, in my view, know enough about ancient attitudes to plagiarism to be able to assert with conﬁdence, as does Pohlenz (1948: 71), that Isokrates would not have lifted material from a putatively second-rate orator. A second and perhaps more fruitful area of discussion has been the comparison of individual intertexts. Two passages in Lys. 2 have attracted particular attention, with earlier scholars tending to see them both as derivative. One of these is at 2.18, which claims that the Athenians during the heroic period were the ﬁrst to have abolished their own dunasteiai (non-democratic régimes, whether oligarchic or tyrannical) and to have established democracy. Pohlenz (1913: 291 n. 2) argued initially that this reﬂected a linguistic misunderstanding of Isok. 4.39, which refers to the Athenians’ abolition of dunasteiai not at Athens but in other poleis.47 In a later essay, however (1948: 71 n. 1), he backed down, accepting at least as possible the rival interpretation put forward by Zucker (1940: 273–274), that the reference at Lys. 2.18 is to the suppression of local magnates by Theseus, to whom was attributed the uniﬁcation of Attica and the foundation of democracy.48 The other passage is Lys. 2.58–59, which presents a view of the battle of Knidos in 394 bc that is as negative as its portrayal in Isok. 4.119: both texts regard Athens’ defeat at Aigospotamoi as the prelude to further disasters for the Greeks, and represent Knidos as a defeat of Greeks by foreigners, thereby suppressing the fact that the Persian ﬂeet at Knidos had been led by the Athenian commander Konon, and that their defeated adversaries had been the Spartans, who were Athens’ opponents throughout the Corinthian War. More signiﬁcant in this case than the verbal overlaps between the two passages—given that the overlapping words are not themselves unnatural in such a context49—is the question of appropriate sentiments. The Pane¯gyrikos has a Pan-hellenic agenda, seeking to unite the Greeks under the leadership of Sparta or preferably Athens in an anti-Persian crusade, and against that background Konon’s activity at Knidos is an obvious embarrassment best passed over in 46

Thus Dover (1968: 69), followed by Medda (1989–95.i: 106). Dunasteia is found in both passages, but de¯mokratia only at Lys. 2.18 (κβαλ*ντε τα` παρα` σφσιν ατο; δυναστεα δηµοκραταν κατεστσαντο), whereas Isok. 4.39 speaks of τοZ mΕλληνα . . . τοZ µ&ν 7π δυναστειν 7βριζοµ νου, and follows this with the establishment of nomoi and politeia rather than of de¯mokratia. 48 See e.g. Plut. Theseus, 24.1–3 (sunoikismos of Attica, with obvious advantages for the poor and a promise of de¯mokratia and constitutional government for the dunatoi), and 32.1 (long-standing hostility of dunatoi towards Theseus, for robbing them of their arkhe¯ and basileia). 49 Lys. 2.59: νκησαν µ&ν ναυµαχο'ντε τοZ mΕλληνα ο! πρ*τερον ε τDν θα´λατταν οδ’ µβανοντε; Isok. 4.119: νκησαν µ&ν ο! βα´ρβαροι ναυµαχο'ντε. 47

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silence. It is at ﬁrst sight harder to see why Pan-hellenic rhetoric should appear in a funeral speech, and several scholars have inferred that Lys. 2.58–59 has been borrowed from the equivalent passage in the Pane¯gyrikos.50 It should however be noted that hostility towards Konon in Lys. 2 extends beyond the immediate conﬁnes of this passage, since the Generals at Aigospotamoi are criticised in terms that may include him (see §58n); similarly, whereas our sources generally associate the rebuilding of the Long Walls with Persian money brought by Konon in the aftermath of his victory at Knidos, the present speech locates it as one of the more anachronistic achievements of the democratic counter-revolutionaries of 403/2 (see §63n).51 And it is at least possible to construct a plausible historical setting for such a negative view, if one adopts a date for the speech around 390, when Persian support had come to seem less desirable:52 certainly the view of Knidos presented here is very similar to that implied in Lys. 33.5, where the situation at the time of writing is presented in terms of Persian naval hegemony.53 A third line of argument concerns the reception of Lys. 2 in other ancient texts. Dionysios of Halikarnassos’ failure to mention the speech has been regarded as signiﬁcant by some critics,54 but given that his primary interest is in Lysias’ skill as a forensic rather than an epideictic orator, his silence at least in the essay On Lysias is not necessarily any more conclusive than is his failure to discuss any of Isokrates’ forensic speeches except the Trapezitikos (On Isok. §§18–20). More problematic is the contested allusion in Aristotle’s Rhetoric (Rhet. 3.10 = 1411a31–b1), which quotes from ‘the epitaphios’55 a passage calling for the cutting of hair as a sign of mourning at the tomb. Aristotle’s quotation here is substantially similar to Lys. 2.60, but with several variants which are not simply verbal but affect the meaning of the passage. In particular, whereas the context of Lys. 2.60 is the defeat at Aigospotamoi, Aristotle speaks instead of cutting the hair 50 Thus e.g. Richter (1881: 4) and Pohlenz (1948: 70). The implied criticism of Konon was a matter of concern to Treves (1937: 280–281), who argued that it could not have been written by an orator who supported Konon so warmly in Lys. 19, but as Dover (1968: 54–55) rightly objects, Athenian orators are not always consistent from one speech to another. 51 Scholars such as Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 203), Pohlenz (1948: 70), and Albini (1955: 454 n. 21) have seen such anachronism as evidence that the speech could not have been written by a contemporary, but it is important to remember the methodological point made by Pearson (1941: 210–211), that historical inaccuracy in the Orators may be the result of distortion rather than of ignorance. 52 For this view, see Seager (1967: 108, and in more detail 1994: 108–109); some indications that the speech as we have it might not have been completed until 387 are noted at p. 164 below. Changing attitudes in the Orators towards Knidos are discussed brieﬂy in S. Perlman (1961: 157 n. 31), who notes that Isokrates and Demosthenes are similarly ambivalent, and that it is not until Deinarkhos (Dein. 1.75) that it becomes a wholly positive event. 53 For the date of this speech (either 388 or possibly 384 bc), see in brief Todd (2000a: 332). 54 For example, Blass (1887 [1868]: 438), who argues that if Dionysios had thought it genuine, he would either have chosen it in preference to Lys. 33 as Lysias’ representative epideictic speech (On Lysias, §§28–30), or else have mentioned it in his discussion of the funeral speech in the Menexenos (On the Style of Demosthenes §23). But Lys. 33 was certainly regarded as one of Lysias’ most famous speeches by Ps.-Plutarch (Life of Lysias, 836b9), so its choice by Dionysios cannot of itself be regarded as surprising. 55 The Loeb translation ‘as Lysias says in his Funeral Oration’ is incorrect.

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‘at the tomb of those who died at Salamis’.56 This passage is of major signiﬁcance because few critics now would place the third book of the Rhetoric any later than the 320s: if what is being alluded to here is Lys. 2, then this is evidence that the speech was in existence and possibly well known by that date.57 The differences of wording and the reference to Salamis, however, have caused some scholars to suggest that what is being quoted here is not in fact our speech, but instead a lost epitaphios from which Lys. 2.60 has itself been plagiarised: thus Pohlenz (1948: 49), for instance, suggested that it came from the speech that Perikles is said to have delivered for the dead of the Samian War, while Wilamowitz (1886: 37) argued that the obvious source was the lost sections of Gorgias’ speech. But there remained a logical problem, because the quotation makes explicit that the reason for mourning is that ‘freedom lies entombed together with the bravery of [the dead]’, and despite the efforts of scholars to tease out a plausible sequence of thought,58 mourning would seem something that is more appropriate for a defeat like Aigospotamoi than for a victory like Salamis.59 One telling argument against the view that Aristotle is citing a lost speech is that the phrase about cutting the hair is quoted by two other ancient scholars, both of whom attribute it speciﬁcally to Lysias’ epitaphios,60 which suggests that they at least were unaware of a more famous original from which our speech had putatively been plagiarised. On balance, and with some reservations, I am therefore inclined to accept the view that Aristotle is quoting Lys. 2.60, but doing it inaccurately and probably from

In addition to omitting Lysias’ τ*τε (‘on that occasion’, which refers back to Aigospotamoi), Aristotle also changes the pronouns in the second half of the quotation, such that freedom is no longer that of the Greeks, as in Lysias, but of the dead (συγκαταθαπτοµ νη τ^ α2ρετ^ ατν τ8 λευθερα for Lysias’ συγκαταθαπτοµ νη τ8 α7τν λευθερα τ^ το$των α2ρετ^). 57 The most natural reading of Aristotle’s phrase ‘the epitaphios’ is ‘the one that contains the words that I am citing’ (thus Dover 1968: 26 n. 3), or perhaps ‘the well-known epitaphios’ (thus Cossatini 1899: 12), rather than ‘the one whose author is unknown to me’. Avezzù (1985a: 362–363) notes that in more than thirty citations from Isokrates, Aristotle refers to him by name on only ten occasions; and indeed he never mentions Lysias by name (cf. the discussion of Aristot. Rhet. 3.19.6 = 1420a8 at p. 162 with n. 61 below). This seriously undermines the argument of Reuss (1883: 149–150) that the failure to mention Lysias’ name here is evidence that Aristotle believed the speech not to be by Lysias. 58 Thus e.g. Wilamowitz (1886: 36–37) suggested that Salamis uniquely represents a conﬂict in which freedom and honour were obtained by the same men and remains theirs both alive and dead; Buchner (1958: 160) and Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 99)—both of whom believe that Lys. 2.60 is the passage being quoted here—argue that Aristotle is catching accurately the spirit of the text, in which the Kerameikos represents a continuity in which all those buried have fallen in the defence of liberty. 59 Hence the still more ingenious suggestion that ‘Salamis’ should be emended to ‘Lamia’ (Leosthenes’ defeat in 322 bc), and the quotation attributed instead to the epitaphios of Hypereides (for the origins of this theory, see Cossatini 1899: 12 against Hude 1917: 7–8); this however would entail impossibly tight chronology unless the third book of the Rhetoric is regarded as postAristotelian, a view which few scholars now accept. 60 Peri Suntaxeo¯s in Lexica Segueriana, p. 129.20–2 [Bekker], s.v. apokeiromai; scholion to Aiskhin. 3.211 s.v. ekeirato. It is perhaps worth noting that the ancient testimonia to this speech are extensive (Carey’s OCT collection includes ﬁfteen from the lexicographers alone, albeit with some overlaps), implying an extensive readership. 56

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memory, just as it is generally supposed that the ﬁnal words of the Rhetoric are an inaccurate and unattributed reminiscence of Lys. 12.100.61 On the basis of the evidence that we have considered, the earlier critics of our speech would seem to have failed to establish a strong case for a late date either on the grounds that it was unknown to Aristotle or by showing that it was plagiarised from Isokrates. If anything, indeed, the intertextual relationship would seem to run in the opposite direction. Buchner has assembled a number of passages in the Pane¯gyrikos which he regards as possible responses to Lys. 2, the most persuasive of which is Isokrates’ rather disparaging insistence that the clamour, the shouting, and the cheers at the battle of Salamis are things not worth mentioning because they are common to all naval battles (thorubous, kraugas, parakeleuseis, Isok. 4.97).62 It is admittedly possible that this is an allusion to Thucydides’ famous account of shifting morale during the battle in the Great Harbour at Syracuse (Thuc. 7.71.4), which seems to have been the model for the extended analysis of morale at Salamis in Lys. 2.34–40, but the context of Salamis and the verbal similarity to Lys. 2.38 (parakeleusmou, krauge¯s) would suggest that this is the passage that Isokrates has in mind. To this I am tempted to add one argument in negative form: had Lys. 2 been based on the Pane¯gyrikos, we might have expected to ﬁnd not just a bland assertion that ‘triremes did not sail out of Asia’ under the period of the Athenian Empire (see §57n), but more speciﬁcally a mention of the Peace of Kallias, which for Isokrates was the means by which this was achieved (Isok. 4.118–20). The proposition that Isokrates is the borrower would not of course prove that our speech was written by Lysias, though it would mean that it is a product of Lysias’ lifetime. It was noted at p. 158 above that for this speech at least, evaluations of literary merit tend to follow rather than precede attributions of authorship; and that there are no other substantial epideictic speeches within the Lysianic corpus, which makes attempts to answer the question of authorship on stylistic grounds even more dangerous than usual. Under normal circumstances, the issue of authorship is not one that particularly concerns me, but Lysias 2 is perhaps an exception, because of what may be personal touches. On balance, I am inclined to accept this as a work of Lysias, given that I ﬁnd it difﬁcult to think of anybody else during this period who would have such good reason for highlighting the contribution played by xenoi (foreigners) in the democratic counter-revolution of 403/2 (2.66). And as we have seen, if the speech was known to be by Lysias, it would give added point to Plato’s subversion of the way in 61 Aristot. Rhet. 3.19.6 = 1420a8. Girard (1872.ii: 13) plausibly suggests that if quoting from memory, Aristotle may have been misled by his memory of the amount of space devoted to Salamis in Lys. 2. 62 See Buchner (1958: 106). (Resemblances between Lys. 2.38–39 and Thuc. 7.70–71 are discussed in detail in the Commentary.) Cf. Buchner’s discussion of the relationships between Lys. 2.4–6 and Isok. 4.67–70 (Amazons, 1958: 71–74); between Lys. 2.17 and Isok. 4.24, mediated in his view through Pl. Menex., 237b-238a (autochthony, 1958: 45–46); between Lys. 2.20–26 and Isok. 4.85–87 (Marathon, 1958: 96–99); between Lys. 2.27–31 and Isok. 4.88–92 (Artemision and Thermopylae, 1958: 99–102).

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which Athenian ancestry is appropriated, and possibly also to his construction of the ﬁgure of Aspasia.63 Much attention has been devoted to discussing whether and in what sense Lysias as a metic could have written a funeral speech for delivery at the annual public ceremony. There is admittedly no direct evidence that a metic could not be chosen to deliver the speech, but the civic nature of the occasion (as emphasised by Loraux) would seem to make this extremely unlikely. The possibility that the speech was written by Lysias as logographos for delivery by that year’s selected orator would seem equally implausible, however, not least because we would expect such a person to have been chosen at least partly on the basis of his ability to produce an appropriate speech. These may however be false questions, as is argued by Dover (cited at p. 164 n. 68 below), who notes the attractiveness of the genre to a skilled orator, and seems to envisage the speech being produced either as a written text or for private performance.64 If Lysias’ speech were a display piece which gained wide readership, that might help explain Plato’s banter about funeral speeches being easy to compose (Menex. 235c4–d6). It could also account for the difﬁculty of identifying a precise and consistent chronological setting for the speech itself. The wording of the manuscript title (‘Epitaphios for those who assisted the Corinthians’, rather than for instance the Boiotians) would tend to suggest that the ﬁghting has been taking place in the Corinthiad, which was the focus of the Nemea River campaign in 394 (see 3.45n) and of further ﬁghting in 393–391 (Xen. Hell. 4.4), culminating in Iphikrates’ destruction of a regiment of the Spartan army at Lekhaion near Corinth in 390 (Xen. Hell. 4.5). One of the testimonia to Lys. 2 indeed claims that the Athenians killed at Lekhaion form the subject both of this speech and also of the funeral speech in the Menexenos, but this may be just an educated guess.65 There is very little internal evidence within the speech to help us identify the campaign (cf. §2n): at §§67–68 we are told that simply those being buried had supported the Corinthians in their struggle for freedom against the Spartans, but apparently (though this relies on a textual emendation) without success. Failure to discuss the campaign which has given rise to the funeral, however, is not unusual in funeral speeches, where those being buried are routinely assimilated to their predecessors, to the extent that what is being praised is more Athens’ military tradition than its instantiation in a particular year.66 63

See above at p. 156 n. 33 and n. 44. On this basis, Lysias would certainly be an obvious candidate for authorship. 65 John of Sicily, Scholia on Hermogenes, VI p. 233.8–13 (Walz). It is hard to see how he could have known it, and it is not in itself plausible (for one thing, Lekhaion could hardly be regarded as a failure, cf. below; for another, Xenophon’s account of Lekhaion implies that although Athenian hoplites were present, it was only Iphikrates’ peltasts who engaged the enemy: Xen. Hell. 4.5.13–14). It is however interesting as evidence that at least one ancient reader linked the two speeches so closely. 66 Blass (1887 [1868]: 439) claims that real funeral speeches do give such details, but only the last of his three chosen examples—Thucydides, Plato and Hypereides—is persuasive, and its focus on Leosthenes is (as we have seen) unusual in its individuality and perhaps therefore its speciﬁcity. (Dem. 60.18–23, not cited by Blass, does talk about the Khaironeia campaign, but in much more general 64

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Perhaps the best internal indicator of an intended dramatic date is the reference to the Walls of Konon, which are described in terms that suggest that they are at least substantially complete (cf. §63n). This is not something which could easily be said at the time of the Nemea River campaign, but would be appropriate by 391 or possibly even 392. There is no conclusive reference to anything after that date, though there are a number of indications which might suggest that the speech as we have it was not completed until after the King’s Peace of 387 bc.67 But that sort of inconsistency is very much the picture we might expect from a speech written for display rather than for delivery. The only objection to this hypothesis that has been put forward is that we might have expected a more patriotic occasion such as a victorious campaign to have been chosen for such purposes, but such considerations do not seem to have concerned Thucydides.68 One of the most interesting features of our speech, indeed, is its commemoration of brave defeat against odds, which is perhaps characteristic of a certain form of post-imperial rhetoric (there is a possible comparison here with Demosthenes’ unexpectedly successful gloriﬁcation in the speech On the Crown of a diplomatic policy that had led to the crushing defeat at Khaironeia in 338 bc).69 And it is not without its individual touches, such as the special and detailed attention given to the psychology of the participants at Salamis (see §§36–39n), or the careful manipulation of the Amazon legend to present heroic Athens to best effect (§§4–6n), or the praise given to the foreigners who participated in the democratic counter-revolution (§66n). But perhaps its main value, as we saw at p. 153 above, lies in its status as a typical funeral speech, giving us—perhaps paradoxically—a better sense of the norms of the genre than we gain from the more spectacular but more maverick speeches of Thucydides or Hypereides. terms.) For the tendency to talk not so much about those now being buried but about all those who have been buried in the Kerameikos, see e.g. §2n, §54n. 67 Perhaps most suggestive is the claim that the Athenians alone deserve to be prostatai of the Greeks (in place presumably of the Spartans, cf. §57n). Other passages that have been cited in this context include the claim that the slavery of the Peloponnesians has become more complete (2.68, but this could be an over-pessimistic reading of the situation in 391), and the establishment of tyrants over enslaved Greek cities (2.59, but Diod.Sic. 18.84.4 predicates ‘freedom’ of those cities which did not join Konon after Knidos, which would imply the enslavement of those who did). 68 ‘A rhetorician must often have composed such a speech without even entertaining the possibility that he himself or anyone else would deliver it at a real state funeral’ (Dover 1968: 197). For the objection that we would expect a more patriotic occasion, see Fernández-Galiano (1953: 32) and Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 33–34). Dionysios’ criticism of Thucydides’ choice of subject is discussed at p. 151 n. 10 above. 69 Yunis (2000), in an important study, emphasises the extent to which Dem. 18 uses models of thinking derived from tragedy to redeﬁne concepts of failure and responsibility.

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2 Funeral Speech for those who Assisted the Corinthians [1] My fellow-mourners: if I thought it possible to describe in words the merits of the men who are lying here, I would make this a criticism of those who instructed me to speak with only a few days’ warning. But since for all mankind the whole of time would not be enough to prepare a speech that is equal to the merits of the dead, it is for this reason (or so it seems to me) that the polis also, when laying down the regulations for those who are to speak here, makes the period of notice short: the idea is that in this way the speakers would have the best chance to gain the forbearance of their hearers. [2] Nevertheless, although it is about the dead that I have to speak, the contest in which I am engaged is not against their achievements, but against those who have previously spoken about them. The merits of the dead have created such an abundant resource, both for those capable of composing poetry and for those willing to deliver speeches, that as a result much that is good has been said about these men by previous speakers, but much has also been omitted by them, and there is enough

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left over for the speeches of their successors. For they were experienced both on land and in every sea: everywhere, and among all mankind, those who lament their own disasters celebrate the merits of these men. [3] In the ﬁrst place therefore I shall recount the dangers faced by our ancestors long ago, for which I owe my memory to word of mouth. For it is right for all mankind to commemorate our ancestors as well, singing their praises in ceremonial songs, speaking of them in the memories of good men, honouring them on occasions like the present, and bringing up the living to know the achievements of the dead. [4] The Amazons, long ago, were daughters of Ares, and lived by the river Thermodon. They were the only people among their neighbours to be equipped with iron weapons, and they were the ﬁrst human beings to ride on horseback. It was by this means—unexpectedly and because of the inexperience of their opponents—that they captured those who ﬂed from them, and escaped their pursuers. They were regarded as males by dint of their courage, rather than females by dint of their nature; they seemed superior to men in spirit, instead of being inferior to them in form. [5] While they were ruling over many races, and had reduced those who lived near them to slavery, they heard great things about this land of ours. Gathering together the most powerful of tribes, thanks to their powerful reputation and their widespread ambition, they attacked our polis. But when they encountered brave men, they displayed spirits to match their nature; and gaining a reputation which was the opposite of their previous one, they were seen to be women more on the basis of danger than on the basis of their bodies. [6] To them alone it was not granted to learn from their errors and

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make better plans for the future; nor was it granted to them to return home and report their own disasters or the merits of our ancestors. They perished here, and paid the penalty for their folly. They made the memory of our polis immortal because of its bravery; while as a result of the disaster which they suffered here, they left their own fatherland without a name. They coveted unjustly that which did not belong to them, so it was only just that they lost what was their own. [7] When Adrastos and Polyneikes campaigned against Thebes and were defeated, the Thebans would not allow the bodies to be buried. The Athenians believed that if these men had committed any offence, they had paid the supreme penalty by dying; but that the gods below were not receiving their dues, and that impiety was being committed against the gods above because the sacred rites were being polluted. First they sent heralds and asked to take up their bodies, [8] because they believed that it was the job of honourable men to punish their enemies while they were alive, but that to display courage at the expense of the bodies of the dead was the sign of those who had no conﬁdence in themselves. They could not get what they requested, so they made war against them, even though no previous quarrel existed between the Thebans and themselves, nor were they doing this to please those of the Argives who were still alive. [9] Instead, believing that those who died in war deserved to receive the customary rites, they risked danger at the hands of one side on behalf of both: on behalf of the one side [i.e. the Thebans], so that those who had committed crimes against the dead should no longer display continued hubris towards the gods; on behalf of the others [i.e. the Argives], so that they should not return home prematurely—without receiving the honour due to their fathers,

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being deprived of Greek rites, and having failed to obtain the common hope. [10] It was with this in mind that they reckoned the fortunes of war to be common to all men. They made many enemies, and defeated them in battle because they had justice as their ally. It was not because they had been stirred up by success to desire a greater punishment from the Thebans. Instead, in place of impiety they showed them their own merit. They collected the prize for which they had come, the bodies of the Argives, and they buried them in their own territory at Eleusis. That was how they behaved towards those of the Seven against Thebes who had died. [11] Some time later, after Herakles had vanished from among men, his children were trying to escape from Eurystheus. They were being driven away by all the other Greeks, who were ashamed at their actions, but afraid of Eurystheus’ power. The children of Herakles came to our polis and sat down at the altars. [12] Despite Eurystheus’ demands, the Athenians refused to surrender them. They respected the bravery of Herakles more than they feared the danger to themselves. They believed that they should ﬁght on the side of justice for those who were weaker, rather than surrender people who had been wronged by those in power simply to please the latter. [13] Eurystheus, together with those who at that time controlled the Peloponnese, launched a campaign. The Athenians, however, did not change their minds when facing danger, but kept to the same resolve that they had had previously. They did this even though they had received no personal beneﬁts at the hands of the boys’ father, and even though they could not know what sort of men the boys themselves

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were going to turn out to be. [14] Believing their course of action to be just—even though they had no previous quarrel with Eurystheus, and stood to gain no advantage except to their reputation—they risked such great dangers on the boys’ behalf. They took pity on those who were being wronged, whereas they hated those who were committing hubris, and they wanted to thwart the latter group, but regarded it as right to help the others. They believed that it was a mark of freedom that they should not act unwillingly; a mark of justice that they should help those who were being wronged; and a mark of courage that they should ﬁght and die, if necessary, on behalf of both these. [15] Such was the state of mind of both parties that Eurystheus’ supporters did not seek to acquire anything from those who were complaisant, whereas the Athenians would not have allowed Eurystheus, if he supplicated, to drag away from them those who were suppliants. They drew up their own forces against him, and defeated in battle his army, which had come from the whole Peloponnese. They restored physical security to the sons of Herakles, and freed their minds from fear, decorating them on account of their father’s bravery with a garland that consisted of the dangers they themselves had undertaken. [16] So much more fortunate did the boys become than their father, for although he brought many beneﬁts to the whole of mankind, and rendered his life full of toil and victory and honour,

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nevertheless, though he punished other wrongdoers, he was unable to defeat Eurystheus, who was his enemy and had wronged him speciﬁcally. His sons, on the other hand, on one single day saw themselves being rescued and their enemies being punished—and all because of our city. [17] There were many reasons for our ancestors to be of one mind and to ﬁght for justice, because the origin of their life was just. They were not, like the majority of peoples, assembled together from all sorts of places, casting out their predecessors and living on land which was not originally their own. Instead, being autochthonous, they had the same land both as mother and as fatherland. [18] They were the ﬁrst people, and at that time the only ones, to have driven out those who held autocratic power among them, and to have established democracy, in the belief that freedom for all is the greatest source of harmony. They allowed everybody to share in the hopes that arise out of danger, and governed themselves with freedom of spirit. [19] They honoured according to nomos1 those who were good, and punished those who were bad, in the belief that to be ruled forcibly by each other was an ergon for animals, but that it was ﬁtting for humans to determine justice by means of nomos, to persuade by using logos, and to serve those purposes by their ergon, while being ruled by nomoi and taught by logos. [20] Because of the nobility of their nature and the harmony of their thoughts, the ancestors of the men who lie here achieved many good and wonderful things. Their descendants, because of their own bravery, have left many great and ever-memorable trophies all over the world. They were the only ones to undergo dangers against countless myriads

1 It has proved impossible in translation to catch the complex interplay in §19 between the terms nomos (pl. nomoi: law or custom), logos (rationality or speech), and ergon (task or action), so I have instead transliterated these terms.

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of barbarians, on behalf of the whole of Greece. [21] For the King of Asia was not content with what he already possessed, but wanted to enslave Europe as well, and he sent an army of ﬁfty myriads strong. His men believed that if they could either turn our polis into a willing ally or force it unwillingly, they would easily gain control of the rest of the Greeks. They therefore sailed to Marathon, thinking that this would leave very short of allies, if they could force the crisis while Greece was still in a state of disagreement over how the invaders were to be repelled. [22] In addition, as the result of earlier actions they retained the following opinion of the Athenians: that if they attacked any other polis, they would be ﬁghting not just its inhabitants but Athens as well, because the Athenians would come to the rescue of those who were being wronged. On the other hand, they thought that if they came here ﬁrst, none of the other Greeks would dare to defend another city if this meant creating open hostility with the Persians for its sake. [23] This was the sort of plan these men had in mind. Our ancestors, however, took no account of military danger, but reckoned that among brave men, a glorious death leaves behind an immortal fame. They did not fear the massive number of their opponents, but put greater conﬁdence in their own ability. They were ashamed because the barbarians were within their territory. They did not wait for their allies to be informed or to help them,

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nor did they want to have to acknowledge a debt to other people for their safety. Instead, they wanted the rest of the Greeks to be in debt to them. [24] They marched out, few against many, all of them in agreement on this point: they thought that to die was something that they could share with everybody, whereas to be famous could only be shared with few; and that on account of death, they possessed lives which were not their own, whereas they would leave behind a memory resulting from their danger which would be theirs and theirs alone. They believed that those who could not win on their own should not be able to win with the help of allies either. If defeated, they would only die a little earlier than the others; if victorious, they would be making other people free. [25] They proved to be brave men, neither sparing of their own bodies nor faint-hearted in the pursuit of arete¯, and they respected the established nomoi more than they feared danger at the hands of the enemy: they put up a trophy on behalf of Greece within their own territory over the barbarians, who had invaded another in pursuit of wealth. [26] They took up the danger so quickly that the same messengers announced to the others both the arrival here of the barbarians and the victory won by our ancestors. None of the other Greeks had time to fear the coming danger: when they heard about it, they rejoiced in their own freedom. In view of the deeds that were performed long ago, therefore, it is in no way remarkable that even today their merit is esteemed by all mankind as if their deeds were still new. [27] Later on, Xerxes King of Asia

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took it into his mind to despise Greece. He had been cheated of his hope, was humiliated by events, was oppressed by the disaster, and was angry at those responsible. He had not known a reverse, and had not tested himself against brave men. After considerable preparation, he came here in the tenth year: his ﬂeet was 1,200 ships, and he led ground forces of such enormous size that it would be a massive task to list even the nations which followed him. [28] And this is the clearest evidence of their number: for although it would have been possible for him to transport his ground forces from Asia to Europe on a thousand ships at the narrowest part of the Hellespont, he refused to do that, because he thought it would waste too much of his time. [29] Instead, he showed contempt both for natural phenomena and for the works of the gods and for human inventions. He constructed a path across the sea, and forced sailing to take place on land, by yoking together the Hellespont and cutting a trench through Athos. This was done without resistance, as some obeyed reluctantly while others voluntarily turned traitor. The one group was insufﬁcient to defend themselves, and the other was corrupted by bribes: fear and proﬁt were what corrupted them in both cases. [30] When they saw that this was the condition of Greece, the Athenians themselves embarked on their ships, and came to their help at Artemision. Meanwhile, the Spartans and some of their allies marched out to Thermopylae, hoping that they would be able to block the road because of the narrowness of the pass. [31] In the battles that took place at the same time, the Athenians were victorious by sea. As for the Spartans, they were not lacking in spirit, but

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they were deceived by the numbers both of those who they thought would protect them and of those against whom they were expecting to face danger. They perished, not defeated by the enemy, but dying where they were drawn up in the battle-line. [32] In this way the one group [the Spartans] suffered misfortune, but the others [the Persians] gained control of the pass, and they marched on our city. Our ancestors heard about the disaster which had fallen on the Spartans, and were in two minds about the situation that faced them. They knew that if they met the barbarians on land, their opponents could sail with a thousand ships against an empty city and capture it; while if they embarked on their triremes, they would be vanquished by the ground forces: they would not be able both to defend themselves and to provide adequate protection. [33] There were two proposals: either they would have to abandon the fatherland, or they could take the side of the barbarians and enslave the Greeks. They believed that freedom accompanied by bravery and poverty and exile was preferable to the enslavement of their fatherland with wealth and shame. It was on behalf of Greece that they abandoned their city, so that they could run risks in turn against each of the dangers, rather than against both of them at once. [34] They sent their children and their wives over to Salamis, and they assembled also the ﬂeet of the rest of the allies. Not many days later, the ground forces and the ﬂeet of the barbarians arrived. Was there anybody who could have seen it

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without fear?—so great and terrible a danger was faced by our city on behalf of the freedom of the Greeks. [35] What was in the mind of people who looked on the men in those ships, given that the danger was pressing and that the means of rescuing them had not yet been tested? What was in the minds of those who were about to ﬁght at sea for their friends, and for the prize that was Salamis? [36] Against them in every direction was drawn up such a mass of the enemy, that to contemplate their own death was for them the least of the evils facing them, but the greatest calamity was what they expected the refugees to suffer if the barbarians should triumph. [37] In their perplexity, they evidently greeted each other frequently, and perhaps they lamented their own fate: they knew that their ships were few, they saw that the enemy’s were many, and they knew that Athens had been abandoned, that Attica was being laid waste and was full of the barbarians, that the sanctuaries were on ﬁre, and that all those terrible things were happening close at hand. [38] Meanwhile, they heard the paians of the Greeks and of the barbarians mingled together, the cheering of both sides, and the noise of ships being destroyed; the sea full of bodies, with many wrecked ships sinking,

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both friendly and hostile ones. For a long time the battle was evenly matched, and now they seemed to be victorious and safe, now defeated and destroyed. [39] Because of the presence of fear, they evidently thought that they saw many things which they did not see, and thought that they heard many things which they did not hear. What prayers there were to the gods, and how they reminded them of their sacriﬁces! What cries of pity for children, and cries of longing for women, and cries of mourning for fathers and mothers! What catalogues of future evils, if things should go badly! [40] Which of the gods would not have pitied them because of their great dangers? Which mortals would not weep? Who would not admire them for their fortitude? In terms of their merits, they vastly exceeded all other men, both in their counsels and in the perils of war—for they abandoned their city, embarked on board ship, and drew up their own courage (few as they were) against the hosts of Asia. [41] Victorious in the sea-battle, they showed everybody that it is better with few men to run risks for the sake of freedom, rather than with many to be ruled for the sake of your own slavery. [42] These men achieved many glorious deeds for the freedom of Greece. Themistokles was their General, a man best prepared in speech and thought and action. Their ships outnumbered those of their allies put together, and their men were the most skilled. Which of the other

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Greeks could have competed with them in planning, in numbers, or in bravery? [43] It was only fair that they received without dispute from the Greeks the prize of victory. It was reasonable that they obtained a good fortune sufﬁcient to match their dangers, and displayed their own bravery—a thing both home-bred and of legitimate birth—to the barbarians of Asia. [44] This, then, was how they performed in the sea-battle. Above all, by sharing in the dangers, they obtained a common freedom for others also by means of their own bravery. Later on, the Peloponnesians were fortifying the Isthmus: they desired security, believed that they had escaped from sea-borne danger, and were content to see the rest of the Greeks coming under barbarian control. [45] The Athenians, however, angrily warned them that if they held to this plan they would have to build a wall round the entire Peloponnese: if they themselves were betrayed by the Greeks and so took the side of the barbarians, the latter would not be short of a thousand ships, nor would the wall at the Isthmus be any help to the Peloponnesians, because control of the sea would pass effortlessly into the hands of the Great King. [46] Hearing this, and realising that they were committing an injustice and were in error in their plans, whereas what the Athenians were saying was just and the advice they were offering them was the best, they went to help at Plataia. The majority of their allies deserted their ranks under cover of night because of the number

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of the enemy, but the Spartans and the people of Tegea repelled the barbarians, and the Athenians and Plataians fought and overcame all those Greeks who had despaired of freedom and had submitted to slavery. [47] On that day they achieved the most wonderful end to their previous perils. They established freedom securely for Europe, and in the middle of all their dangers, they gave proof of their own merits: both alone and with assistance, ﬁghting both on foot and on board ship, against both barbarians and Greeks, they were considered worthy by all—both those who were sharing the risks with them and those against whom they were ﬁghting—to become leaders of Greece. [48] Later on, war broke out between Greek cities. It took place because of rivalry over what had happened and envy over what had been achieved. Everybody thought highly of themselves, and each side required small grievances. The Athenians fought a sea-battle against the Aiginetans and their allies, and captured seventy of their triremes. [49] They were blockading Egypt and Aigina at the same time, and while the ﬂower of their young men were absent in the ships and the ground forces, the Corinthians and their allies came out in force and attacked Geraneia, in the belief that they would either have an empty territory to invade or else force the expedition to return from Aigina. [50] The Athenians had the courage not to recall a single soldier, either of those who were far off or of those who were close at hand.

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The older men, and those who were still under age, trusted in their own bravery and held their attackers in contempt. They decided to face the danger on their own, [51] because one group of them was courageous as a result of experience, and the other group by nature. The ﬁrst group had often displayed their bravery, and the others were copying them; the older ones knew how to take command, and the younger ones were skilled at doing what they were ordered. [52] Under the leadership of Myronides as General, they marched out to the Megarid, and they defeated in battle the full force of their enemies by means of those who had already lost their strength and those who were not yet powerful. They confronted in a foreign land those who thought it right to invade their own territory, [53] setting up a trophy in memory of deeds which were highly glorious for them but deeply shameful for their opponents. Some of them were no longer strong physically, others were not yet strong, but both groups showed themselves superior in courage. After returning home with a ﬁne reputation, the one group resumed their education, the other their counsel for the future. [54] It would not be easy for one man to recount individually the dangers faced by so many, nor could the things achieved in all this time be described in a single day. What speech, what time-limit, what orator would be sufﬁcient to reveal the bravery of the men who lie here? [55] By performing many labours, by competing in public contests, and by risking glorious perils, they set Greece free, and showed their fatherland to be the best; they ruled the sea for seventy years, and liberated their allies from civil strife, [56] not by being content to enslave the masses to the minority, but by enforcing equal

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shares for all. They did not render their allies weak, but strengthened them as well. They proved their own power to be such that the Great King no longer coveted what did not belong to him, but gave up part of what he owned, and feared for what remained his. [57] During that period triremes did not sail out of Asia, and no tyrant was established among the Greeks, nor was any Greek polis enslaved by the barbarians. This was the level of respect and fear which their bravery inspired among all mankind. It is on this account that they alone deserve to be champions of Greece and leaders of the poleis. [58] They displayed their merits even in times of misfortune: for when the ﬂeet was destroyed in the Hellespont (either because of incompetence on the part of a commander, or else as a result of divine intervention), and there occurred what was a notorious disaster both for us who suffered it and for the rest of the Greeks, they made clear not long afterwards that the power of our city meant the security of Greece. [59] For it was when others became leaders that those who had not previously manned a ﬂeet defeated the Greeks in a sea-battle, sailed to Europe, and are enslaving the cities of the Greeks. Tyrants were established, some in the aftermath of our misfortune, and others following the victory of the barbarians. [60] At this tomb, therefore, it would have been right for Greece on that occasion to cut its hair in mourning, and to weep for those who lie here,

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because their own freedom lies entombed together with the bravery of these men. Greece suffered disaster when it was bereaved of such men; the King of Asia rejoices, and has taken on other leaders. As for Greece, slavery has encircled it because it is deprived of them. As for the Great King, with others leading, he is ﬁlled with a desire to emulate the ambition of his ancestors. [61] I have been led into uttering these lamentations on behalf of the whole of Greece. But it is right that we should commemorate both privately and in public those men, who ﬂed from slavery, struggled for justice and fought for democracy; they had all sorts of enemies, but returned from exile to Peiraieus. They were not compelled by nomos, but persuaded by their own noble nature. In new situations of danger, they copied the ancient bravery of their ancestors, [62] in the hope that by means of their own bravery they would gain a polis that would be shared with other people as well. They preferred death accompanied by freedom, rather than life with slavery. Their motive was not so much shame at the disasters they had suffered, but anger directed at their enemies. They preferred to die in their own land rather than to live as inhabitants of other peoples’. They made the oaths and the agreements into their allies, whereas their enemies were not just those who had previously fulﬁlled this rôle, but also their own citizens. [63] Nevertheless, they did not fear the number of those against them, but risked danger in their own bodies. They put up a trophy over their enemies and created witnesses of their own bravery, in the shape of the tombs of the Spartans which are near this monument.

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They proved that the polis was great instead of being weak, and showed that it was united instead of being crippled by civil strife; they put up walls in place of those which had been destroyed. [64] Those of them who returned from exile showed that their counsels were equal to the deeds of those who lie here—they turned their attention not to the punishment of their opponents but to the safety of the polis. They could not be defeated, and did not desire to possess more, but gave a share in their own freedom to those prepared to endure slavery, whereas they themselves refused to share the slavery of those men. [65] They defended themselves by means of very great and very glorious deeds, showing that the city’s previous misfortune was not the result of its own cowardice nor of the enemy’s bravery. If they were able to return to their land while engaged in military conﬂict against fellow-citizens and in the face of the Peloponnesians and other hostile forces, it is clear that united they would easily have defeated them. [66] So then, these men are respected by all mankind, because of the dangers they faced at Peiraieus. But we should remember also to praise the xenoi buried here, who assisted the democracy and fought for our safety. They regarded bravery as their fatherland, and they made this the climax of their lives. It was in return for this that the polis gave them ofﬁcial mourning and burial, and allowed them for all eternity to have the same honours as citizens. [67] The men who are now being buried here brought help to the Corinthians when they were wronged by former friends, and became their new allies. The Athenians did not share the attitude of the Spartans, for the one group [the Spartans]

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envied the good things that belonged to them [the Corinthians], whereas the others [the Athenians] pitied them because of the wrong done to them: forgetting previous quarrels, and placing a high value on existing friendship, they made their own merits clear to the whole of mankind. [68] They had the courage to make Greece great, not only by facing danger for the sake of their own safety, but by dying to win freedom for their enemies: it was on behalf of the allies of Sparta that they were ﬁghting, to ensure their freedom. Victorious, they regarded their opponents as worthy of the same things; unsuccessful, they made the slavery of the Peloponnesians secure. [69] So, then, for the latter, given their situation, life was pitiable and death was something to pray for. The former, by contrast, were worth copying both in life and in death: they had been schooled in the bravery of their ancestors, and after becoming adults they preserved the glory of their ancestors and displayed their own merits. [70] They have been responsible for many beneﬁts for their fatherland, they remedied the misfortunes suffered by others, and they banished the ﬁghting far away from their own territory. They ended their life as good men deserve to die, repaying their fatherland for their upbringing, but leaving their parents to grieve. [71] It is ﬁtting therefore for those who are left alive to miss them, to lament their own situation, and to pity the dead men’s relatives in view of their future life. What pleasure remains for them, as men like these are buried?

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– men who rated everything else as less important than bravery, who have themselves been deprived of life, who have left their wives as widows, who have turned their own children into orphans, and who have left their brothers and mothers and fathers isolated. [72] Despite the many terrible things which have happened, I regard their children as happy, because they are too young to know the sorts of fathers they have lost. But I pity those who gave birth to the dead, because they are too old to forget their misfortune. [73] What could be more dreadful than to give birth to one’s own children, to bring them up, and then to bury them? To be physically weakened by old age, to be without friends or means of livelihood, and deprived of all hope? To have previously been envied and now to be mourned by the same people, and for death to be preferable to life for them? The braver men they were, the greater the grief for those bereaved. [74] When is it appropriate for them to cease from grieving? Should it be at times of disaster for the city? But that is when it is reasonable for others also to remember them. Or should it be at times of general rejoicing? But given that their own children are dead and the living are beneﬁting from their bravery, it is surely enough for them to have grieved. Or should it be at private times of danger, when they can see their former friends trying to escape from their own perplexity, and their enemies boasting about the misfortunes that these men are suffering? [75] The only thing, it seems to me, that we could give as an act of gratitude to those who are lying here would be for us to value their parents as much as they themselves valued them, to welcome the children as if we were their parents, and in our own persons

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to offer the same sort of support to their widows as they did when alive. [76] Who is there that we would praise more appropriately than those who lie here? Which of the living would we value more justly than we value their relatives, who rejoice in the bravery of those men just as much as other people do, but who alone have a legitimate share in the misfortunes of the dead? [77] I do not know why it is necessary to lament like this: for we have not forgotten that we ourselves are mortal. So why is it necessary for us now to mourn something which we have been expecting from earliest times to suffer? Or for us to be so grieved by human suffering, since we know that death is the common fate for the best and the worst of men? It does not overlook criminals, nor does it respect good men, but presents itself equally to everybody. [78] If it were possible for those who avoid military danger to be immortal for the rest of time, it would be proper for the living to mourn the dead for ever. As it is, human life is weaker than disease or old age, and the divine power that controls our fate is inexorable. [79] So we should regard as the most blessed of men those who died like this after running dangers on behalf of that which is greatest and most glorious. They did not surrender their affairs to chance, or await the whims of death, but chose the best of fates.

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Their memory will never grow old, and their glory is envied by all men. [80] Those who are mourned as mortal in their bodies are praised like immortals on account of their bravery. For in fact they have a state funeral, and moreover contests of strength, wisdom, and wealth are celebrated in their honour, because those who have died in war deserve to be honoured with the same dignities as the immortals. [81] So then, I praise them, and pronounce them happy in their death. These are the only men for whom I think it better that they have been born. Although they have found that their bodies are mortal, nevertheless because of their bravery they have left behind an undying memory. All the same, ancient precedents deserve to be copied: let us therefore follow ancestral custom, and mourn for those who are being buried here.

Lysias 2. Funeral Speech: Commentary Title: The reference to the Corinthians here is presumably inferred from §67 (though this is only a passing allusion and does not permit identiﬁcation of a speciﬁc campaign, cf. p. 163 with n. 65 above). A similar version of the title appears once in the testimonia (Scholion to Aiskhin. 3.211), but the majority refer to it more brieﬂy, e.g. as ‘Lysias’ Epitaphios’.

§§1–2: Proem §1. ὦ παρόντες ἐπὶ τῷδε τῷ τάϕῳ (‘my fellow-mourners’). Lit. ‘O those who are present at this burial’. Taphos can denote either the funeral rite (LSJ s.v. I, citing Thuc. 2.46.2), or alternatively an individual or collective tomb (Dem. 60.1, LSJ s.v. II), Albini, following Radermacher (1932: 179–180 with 1934: 171), reads o <α%νδρε ο!> παρ*ντε, on the premise that α2νδρν in the following line of X is a misplaced correction. If accepted, this would identify the audience as speciﬁcally male. At no stage within this speech are women directly addressed, as they are in Thuc. 2.45.2, though their existence is alluded to at §71 and §75. Even without the emendation, the parenthetic vocative is a uniquely long one for Lysias, and may reﬂect a heightened register. Plato has several extended examples in the Menexenos (o πα;δε α%νδρων α2γαθν ‘O sons of brave men’ at 246b5, and o πα;δε κα

γον8 τν τελευτησα´ντων ‘O children and parents of the dead’ at 248d7), though his phrasing is probably not close enough to be deliberate allusion. Forms of address in Greek literature other than by ethnicity or occupation are discussed brieﬂy by Dickey (1996: 180). τῶν ἐνθάδε κειµένων ἀνδρῶν (‘of the men who are lying here’). The phrase enthade keimai is found much more frequently in Lys. 2 and in Plato’s Menexenos than in other funeral speeches (here and at §20, §54, §60, §66, §75, §76; Pl. Menex. 242d6, 242e6, 243c7, 246a5; elsewhere keimai but without enthade at Thuc. 2.37.3 and 2.43.2). Its repeated appearance in this speech would seem to reﬂect an attempt to create realism by repetition, and Plato’s usage possibly suggests that this attempt struck him as unsuccessful. At ﬁrst sight, the phrase may refer here simply to those who are imagined as having died on this year’s campaign, as also at §§75–76. But ‘these men’ in §2 seem to include the war-dead from previous years buried in the Kerameikos (hence the previous speakers), and the phrase is used in this extended sense for much of the historical narrative section of the speech (though see §54n): the effect is to emphasise the location of the current honorands within a larger tradition.

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ἐξ ὀλίγων ἡµερῶν λέγειν (‘to speak with only a few days’ warning’). An arresting conclusion to the opening sentence. On one level, this complaint plays with the dramatic illusion that it is a real speech (cf. παρασκευα´σαι ‘to prepare’ later in §1), though to criticise the way in which the polis chooses to conduct its affairs is understandably not a common characteristic of real speeches.1 Cf. Kahn’s comment on Plato’s assertion that all the candidates to deliver the funeral speech will have their texts prepared before the selection is made (Menex. 235c6–d3): ‘the blow is a particularly telling one against Lysias, since his own speech was apparently not composed under any time limit at all’ (Kahn 1963: 231). ὁ πᾶς χρόνος οὐχ ἱκανὸς λόγον ἴσον παρασκευάσαι (‘the whole of time would not be enough to prepare a speech that is equal’). The motif of insufﬁcient time is found at different stages of the speech in Plato’s Menexenos, but in each case with possible allusion to Lys. 2. At Menex. 239b6–7, it provides a justiﬁcation for the mythological paraleipsis (for which see §§3–16n below); while at Menex. 246b1–2, it is placed the end of a fairly detailed narrative of the Corinthian War, perhaps with the hint that Lys. 2 has not properly covered this. For the difﬁculty of making a funeral speech that matches the deeds of the dead, see e.g. Dem. 60.1, Thuc. 2.35.2. §2. ἀγών (‘contest’). Plato (Menex. 234b4–10) implies that the process of choosing each year’s speaker was in some sense competitive, though without using the word ago¯n. Frangeskou (1999: 318 with n. 15) notes that although other funeral speeches do mention previous speakers (see e.g. Thuc. 2.35.1), nevertheless this passage is unique within the genre in presenting a competitive relationship. Agonistic openings are however common in other branches of epideictic oratory,2 and I am not persuaded by the argument of Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 26 with n. 1) that this only makes sense in a speech written for delivery at a real funeral ceremony. τοῖς ποιεῖν δυναµένοις (‘for those capable of composing poetry’). On reﬂection, this reading of poieo¯, which is how the passage is interpreted by one of the lexicographers (Lexicon Vindobonense, s.v. poiein, P.90, p. 151.8–10 Nauck), seems more plausible than my previous translation ‘for those who are capable of action’ (Todd 2000a: 27). οὔτε γὰρ γῆς απειροι οὔτε θαλάττης οὐδεµιᾶς (‘they were experienced both on land and in every sea’). Glory extending over both land and sea is a common theme in earlier praise poetry (e.g. Bacchylides, Epinician, 13.178–181; Pindar, 1 The only occasion to my knowledge in which existing legislation is criticised in the Orators is Andok. 4.3, which again is not a real speech. It is more common in funeral speeches to praise the polis for instituting the custom of epitaphioi (Dem. 60.2, cf. Thuc. 2.35.1). 2 Cf. e.g. Isok. 4.1 (rhetoric competing with athletics on panegyric occasions); Isok. 4.3–4 (many sophists have spoken on this theme but I shall be superior); Isok. 8.1–2 (everyone claims his own topic is important, but mine really is); Isok. 12.1–2 (abandonment of myth to other orators); Isok. 13.1 (criticism of other orators). The question of delivery is discussed at pp. 163–164 above.

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Nemean, 6.48–49), so there is no need to assume that those envisaged as being buried had been engaged in a naval campaign, especially if they are being assimilated to other occupants of the Kerameikos (cf. §54n). τὰς τούτων ἀρετὰς ὑµνοῦσι (‘celebrate the merits of these men’). Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 48, with refs.) argues that in prose texts, humneo¯ denotes not so much ‘sing’ as ‘celebrate’ or ‘praise’, though some form of singing is clearly involved at §3. The reappearance of the term at §80 serves to frame the speech, and would seem to imply some form of connection with hero-cult: 7µνο'νται δ& α2θα´νατοι δια` τDν α2ρετν (‘are praised like immortals on account of their bravery’).

§§3–16: The Mythological Past It is a truism that Greek popular thought about the past tends not to distinguish sharply between myth and history,3 though S. Perlman (1961: 158–159), cautioning against overstatement of this view, argues that we ﬁnd throughout the Orators a general acceptance of the distinction drawn at Hdt. 3.122.2 between the mythological and historical periods, and that the Orators were aware of the problem of mythological accuracy. Funeral speeches however may be particularly signiﬁcant in this context, because the epitaphic tradition tended to suppress the events of the Archaic period, leaving the narrative to move immediately as here from myth to Marathon, which creates a much clearer divide than one ﬁnds for instance in Thucydides’ arkhaiologia. An indication that the audience might have been expected to notice this gap can be found at Dem. 60.9, which speaks of passing over ‘many events classed as myth’ (τν µ&ν οpν ε µ$θου α2νενηνεγµ νων -ργων); see further §3n and §6n. As we saw at p. 153 above, the choice of myths in this speech is highly conventional—the defeat of the Amazon invasion (§§4–6), the recovery of the bodies of the Seven Against Thebes (§§7–10), and the defence of the Herakleidai against Eurystheus (§§11–16), with the only omission from the epitaphic canon being that of Eumolpos—as is their basic narrative structure. Walters (1980: 10) rightly emphasises how these myths represent Athens as acting alone to secure justice, in response either to foreign invasion or to a violation of cultural norms by another Greek state. But whereas the Amazon story focuses on the size of the threat and takes for granted the Athenian decision to resist, the subsequent myths emphasise the decision to resist injustice on the part of other Greek states, allowing extensive exposition of the sorts of circumstances that might lead to aggressive activity on the part of the Athenians, as well as the nature and limits of such aggression. Though the choice of myths within epitaphioi is broadly conventional, the scale of the attention devoted to them is not. Whereas here some two hundred words each are devoted to the Amazons and to the Seven Against Thebes, with

3

For the rôle of oral tradition in ancient constructions of the past, see e.g. Finley (1986: 11–33), Thomas (1989: esp. 197–213).

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a further three hundred reserved for the Herakleidai, Demosthenes by contrast (Dem. 60.8) simply lists these three myths and that of Eumolpos, covering them all in fewer than 100 words; while Plato (Menex. 239b3–8) mentions all four in fewer than 50, explicitly adding two touches which may be directed against Lysias: that time is too short to treat this material properly, and that it has been well covered by the poets (NB not the speech-writers).4 Indeed, the only comparably detailed accounts in the Orators are those of Isokrates, particularly in the Pane¯gyrikos, which as we have seen is more likely to be dependent on Lys. 2.5 Similarly ﬂexible within the epitaphic tradition is the ordering of the myths.6 No reason for selection and order is speciﬁed here, though there could be links with more recent history. The omission of Eumolpos allows the narratives successively to focus on opponents from Asia, Boiotia, and the Peloponnese, as if Athens’ Peloponnesian War opponents are being recalled in reverse order of priority.7 In keeping with the epitaphic focus on Athenians as a collectivity,8 the telling of each myth here is (as we shall see) consistently anonymous, at least as far as Athenians are concerned. Opponents like Eurystheus and suppliants like Adrastos can be named, but not Theseus. This is particularly striking given the way in which other literary genres such as tragedy give Theseus a prominent rôle as in some sense the individual personiﬁcation of Athenian democracy9—Euripides’ Suppliants makes him central to the recovery of the bodies of the Seven Against Thebes, which contrasts sharply with his absence from §§7–10—though it is of course in the nature of drama to require protagonists. Similarly, whereas other versions of the Amazon myth present their invasion as provoked by Theseus’ rape of one of their number (variously named), here they have no

4 There is a rather less pointed paraleipsis in Dem. 60.9, where it appears to be other myths that are being omitted. Herodotos, in a speech closely dependent on the epitaphic genre (cf. p. 153 above) devotes fewer than 125 words to all three of these myths and the Trojan War (Hdt. 9.27.2–4), though this is admittedly a highly condensed speech, as beﬁts its position within Herodotos’ narrative. 5 The relationship between the two speeches is discussed at pp. 157–162 above. Isokrates devotes some 350 words to the Herakleidai and the Seven together in a closely intermingled narrative at 4.54–60, and c.200 words to the Amazons (together with Eumolpos) at 4.68–70. Details of similarity and difference in the two treatments are noted below as appropriate, as also is the signiﬁcantly different non-epitaphic presentation of these myths by Isokrates at 12.168–171 (the Seven), 12.193 (Amazons), and 12.194 (Herakleidai), and also at 6.43 (Amazons, Thracians [i.e. Eumolpos], Herakleidai). 6 Hdt. 9.27.2–4, for instance, presents them in the order Herakleidai, Seven, Amazons (and Trojan War); Dem. 60.8 has Amazons (and Eumolpos), Herakleidai, Seven. Only Plato has what is basically Lysias’ order, though with the same addition: (Eumolpos and) Amazons, Seven, Herakleidai. 7 Perhaps fortunately, given that the dead are described at §67 as having assisted the Corinthians as new allies, the epitaphic tradition did not include myths in which Corinth played the rôle of villain: see further §§48–53n. 8 On anonymity and collectivity in the funeral speeches, see p. 150 above. 9 On the one hand, the Theban herald’s demand to know the ruler he is addressing is met by Theseus’ insistence that Athens is a free city ruled by the de¯mos rather than by one man (Eurip., Suppliants, 403–408), but on the other hand it is Theseus in person who claims to be recognised among the Greeks as punisher of injustice (Suppliants, 341).

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identities (presumably because to name an Amazon would be to recall the nature of her link with Theseus) and act under no provocation.10 §3. τοὺς παλαιοὺς κινδύνους τῶν προγόνων δίειµι (‘I shall recount the dangers faced by our ancestors long ago’), lit. ‘the ancestors’: see for contrast §6n. The word kindunos (danger) is particularly common in this speech.11 Here for instance the parallel passage in Thuc. 2.36.1 speaks of beginning with ancestors but makes no mention of danger. The language of danger is particularly prevalent in the historical narrative of our speech, where it tends to accentuate the theme of isolation (as at §20, §26, and §34). In the mythological narrative, on the other hand, there is a sense of crescendo: in the ﬁrst myth the only danger to be mentioned is remote (being faced by the Amazons, §5); in the second it is closer but appears only once (§9); in the third it recurs three times (as a future prospect at §12, as a motive for present action at §14, and as a striking metaphor of glory at §15). µνήµην παρὰ τῆς ϕήµης λαβών (‘owe my memory to word of mouth’). I doubt if this is meant to suggest that he has by contrast used written accounts as his sources for the historical narrative (even though there are several occasions where he does appear to have done precisely this, cf. e.g. §38n, §§48–53n, and §52n), though the phrase may indicate at least an awareness that the mythological period is less capable of precise knowledge (for phe¯me¯ in the sense ‘what everybody knows although nobody can legally prove it’, cf. most famously Aiskhin. 1.125–131); for oral versus written memory, see §§3–16n. ὑµνοῦντας µὲν ἐν ταῖς ᾠδαῖς (‘singing their praises in ceremonial songs’). Following Snell (1887.ii: 6), I take the switch from dative anthro¯pois to the accusative sequence of participles to be the result of the intervening inﬁnitive. For humneo¯, see §2n. ἐν ταῖς τῶν ἀγαθῶν µνήµαις (‘in the memories of good men’). The majority of editors, including Carey, have rejected X’s gno¯mais (‘opinions’) in favour of mne¯mais (‘memories’), which is the reading of all ﬁve of the independent manuscripts.12 Either way, the phrase could mean either those memories or opinions 10 For the motives of the Amazon attack, see further §5n. It is interesting to contrast Isok. 4.68–70 (which offers an epitaphic version of the Amazon myth as anonymous as that at §§4–6 below) with Isok. 12.193, which presents the Amazons as acting to recover Queen Hippolyte, in a version that is equally rape-free (she has accompanied him voluntarily), but that nevertheless recalls his part in the story. The absence of provocation in our version is reﬂected in the historical narrative by the omission of Athens’ part in the sack of Sardis: see §§20–26n. 11 The noun kindunos and its cognate verb are found on a total of 39 occasions in Lys. 2 (out of 167 examples in the Lysianic corpus, whereas only three other speeches account for more than ten uses, and none of these more than ﬁfteen). Comparable ﬁgures for the other funeral speeches: Gorgias × 0 (very fragmentary), Plato × 2, Hypereides × 6, Demosthenes and Thucydides both × 8. 12 It does, however, have the possible disadvantage of repetition, given mne¯me¯n in the previous sentence, and Thalheim followed by Albini suggested tois . . . enko¯miois (‘in the eulogies’), which makes good sense but is palaeographically difﬁcult.

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held by (or eulogies delivered by) good men, or more likely those held about (or delivered to commemorate) good men. παιδεύοντας δ’ ἐν τοῖς τῶν τεθνεώτων ἔργοις τοὺς ζῶντας (‘bringing up the living to know the achievements of the dead’). Paideusis (not just ‘schooling’, but more broadly ‘upbringing’) plays an important rôle in epitaphioi. It is something predicated not just of those being buried (Dem. 60.3; Hyp. Epit. §8; and this speech at §69), but also of their ancestors (Pl. Menex. 238b7; Dem. 60.3; cf. also this speech at §53n), such that the rest of the Greek world can learn either from the victors of Marathon and Salamis (Pl., Menex. 240e3–6 and 241c1) or from Athens itself (Thuc. 2.41.1). Perhaps most signiﬁcant is the message which Plato places in the mouth of the dead (Menex. 248d4), requesting a ﬁtting upbringing for their orphaned sons (speciﬁcally masculine), which calls to mind the public support given to war-orphans (for which see e.g. Thuc. 2.46.1).13

§§4–6: The Mythological Past: (a) Repelling the Amazon Invasion §4. Ἀµαζόνες γὰρ Ἄρεως µὲν τὸ παλαιὸν ἦσαν θυγατέρες (‘the Amazons, long ago, were daughters of Ares’). Not a new detail—the ﬁfth-century genealogist Pherekydes is quoted as describing the Amazons as being descended from Ares and the nymph Harmonia (FGrH 3 F.15 Jacoby), which is itself an interesting combination—but it is unique in the epitaphic corpus, and serves to emphasise their militarism. For the motive of the Amazon attack, see §5n. οἰκοῦσαι δὲ παρὰ τὸν Θερµώδοντα ποταµόν (‘lived by the river Thermodon’). Shifts in the location of the Amazon homeland over time are discussed by Tyrrell (1984: 55–59), who notes that they are always found on the margins of the known world. Thermodon, however, which is on the southern shore of the Black Sea, is already attested as their homeland in Herodotos (Hdt. 4.110.1; cf. Aeschylus, Prometheus, 725). It is not clear whether there is anything about the heat-etymology of Thermodon that makes it a particularly suitable location for Amazons. In Aristotelian gynaecology, women are by nature cold, and so warmth would presumably make them more masculine; but at least some Hippocratic writers seem to have regarded menstrual blood as evidence that women are hotter than men (for details, see King 1998: 32–33), and to use Aristotle for interpretation here is potentially anachronistic. µόναι µὲν ὡπλισµέναι σιδήρῳ τῶν περὶ αὐτάς, πρῶται δὲ τῶν πάντων ἐϕ̓ ἵππους ἀναβᾶσαι (‘they were the only people among their neighbours to be equipped with iron weapons, and they were the ﬁrst human beings to ride on horseback’). Being the ﬁrst and/or only people to have done something is normally in the epitaphic corpus a positive virtue predicated of those being celebrated. It can be used to describe Athens’ past military achievements, and also its diplomatic 13 The fullest discussion of Athenian provision for war-orphans is in Goldhill (1990), who focuses particularly on the public and ritual aspects (proclamation in the theatre, etc.). One group of texts which merit further attention is Lysias’ frag. sp. LXIV Against Theozotides, together with the inscription recording Theozotides’ decree: I hope to say more in the relevant volume of this commentary.

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stance; but it goes back to the earliest times of the Athenian community and includes also principles of internal organisation; and it applies particularly to those being buried.14 This is one of very few occasions when the motif is applied to non-Athenians (the other example being Cyrus, the ﬁrst liberator of the Persians in Pl. Menex. 239d6), and the tone here is by no means necessarily positive (cf. similarly §6n). Both ‘ﬁrst’ and ‘only’ in the context of this episode appear to be unique to Lysias’ version, and Tyrrell (1984: 17) sees both details as designed to represent the Amazons as the moral inferiors of Greek hoplites: iron weapons give them an unfair military advantage (note the emphasis below on their opponents’ inexperience), and horses allow them to break ranks and ﬂee successfully if defeated (explicit in what is said about pursuers).15 ᾕρουν µὲν τοὺς ϕεύγοντας, ἀπέλειπον δὲ τοὺς διώκοντας (‘they captured those who ﬂed from them, and escaped their pursuers’). It is presumably the second clause which provides the sting here (cf. previous note). Imperialist aggression is not in itself undesirable, but it is transgressive when practised by those without the courage to stand in line. §5. αρχουσαι δὲ πολλῶν ἐθνῶν, καὶ ἔργῳ µὲν τοὺς περὶ αὐτὰς καταδεδουλωµέναι, λόγῳ δὲ περὶ τῆσδε τῆς χώρας ἀκούουσαι κλέος µέγα (‘while they were ruling over many races, and had reduced those who lived near them to slavery, they heard great things about this land of ours’). The familiar contrast ergon/logos (deed/word) cannot easily be captured in translation here, since the relationship between their enslavement of neighbours and their hearing of Athens’ reputation is not between what they did and what they said, but between what they did and what they heard. The extent of the Amazon empire seems to be an original detail, serving primarily to highlight their fall from power and the scale of Athenian victory. The presentation of the Amazons’ motive in this speech is discussed by Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 47 n. 4), who draw attention to alternative versions of the story (e.g. in Plut. Theseus, 26.1–27.2, where they are pursuing Theseus for the rape of Antiope; and in Plut. Theseus, 28.1, where Antiope herself attacks Theseus after he has abandoned her in favour of Phaedra). The absence of 14 Past military achievements: either the ﬁrst to stand up against the barbarians at Marathon (Menex. 240d4; Dem., 60.11), or indeed the only ones (Lys. 2.20, while Dem. 60.11 even predicates this isolation of Salamis also); used to ﬁghting alone on other occasions (Lys. 2.50); unique in proving stronger than reputed (Thuc. 2.41.3). Diplomatic stance: the only ones who deserve to be prostatai (Lys. 2.57), and the only ones who refuse to betray Greece in Corinthian War (Menex. 245c5). Earliest times of Athenian community: we alone were autochthonous, and Attica was ﬁrst place where crops grew (Dem. 60.4–5). Principles of internal organisation: uniquely public-spirited (Thuc. 2.40.2); uniquely liberal-spirited (Thuc. 2.40.5); ﬁrst to establish ise¯goria (Theseus, in Dem. 60.28). First and at that stage only Greeks to cast out dunasteiai (Lys. 2.18). Unique burial (Dem. 60.33), and unique happiness of those being buried (Lys. 2.81). Other examples of the topos are discussed in Walters (1978: 188), Walters (1980: 3), and Tyrrell & Brown (1991: 204). 15 There is no sense in this passage that inventiveness gives a moral right to superiority, as there is in the mentality being parodied in Belloc’s 1898 poem The Modern Traveller: ‘Whatever happens, we have got / The Maxim gun, and they have not.’

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Theseus from our narrative, as we saw at §§3–16n, is part of a general tendency towards the suppression of individual names from epitaphioi; but as Tyrrell (1984: 15) notes, it serves also to turn the Amazons into unprovoked aggressors. The parallel account in the Pane¯gyrikos (Isok. 4.68) is similar in its anonymity, but focuses on a general hatred of the Greeks as the motive both for the Amazons and also for Eumolpos’ Thracians, whereas in our speech the motive is imperial ambition. There is an interesting double standard here, but for the intended audience it may have seemed so rooted in the natural order as not to appear inconsistent: to rule over other communities, and to take up the challenge proffered by the reputation of a rival power, would be a good thing when done by the proper people (male Athenians); but these are acts of excessive ambition when performed by barbarian women. τοὺς περὶ αὐτὰς καταδεδουλωµέναι (‘had reduced those who lived near them to slavery’). Given the imperial reputation of 5th-cent. Athens as having ‘enslaved the Greeks’, this would seem a daring gloss on ‘ruling over many races’ (cf. previous note), but no more so than Isokrates’ use of language about ‘putting an end to the hubris of the barbarians’ to gloss both 5th-cent. imperialism (as at Isok. 12.47) and also his own calls for a Pan-hellenic crusade (Isok. Ep. 9.19). πολλῆς δόξης . . . ἐναντίαν τὴν δόξαν τῆς προτέρας . . . (‘powerful reputation . . . a reputation which was the opposite of their previous one. . .’). The verbal play in this section is difﬁcult to catch in translation: I have found myself forced to use ‘many races’ and ‘most powerful of tribes’ for ethne¯; and enantios (‘opposite’) may be picking up §4 ‘opponents’. τυχοῦσαι δ’ ἀγαθῶν ἀνδρῶν ὁµοίας ἐκτήσαντο τὰς ψυχὰς τῇ ϕύσει . . . (‘but when they encountered brave men, they displayed spirits to match their nature . . .’). A complex sentence, which might be easier with commas after α2νδρν and λαβο'σαι. ‘Displayed’, lit. ‘obtained’ (κτσαντο); ‘were seen’, lit. ‘seemed’ (-δοξαν). I take the point of the ﬁnal section to be that it was their (sc. cowardly) conduct when in danger which revealed them to be women. §6. µόναις δ’ αὐταῖς οὐκ ἐξεγένετο ἐκ τῶν ἡµαρτηµένων µαθούσαις (‘to them alone it was not granted to learn from their errors’). Herwerden (1897: 211) proposes µ ναι for µ*ναι (‘in their defeat’, rather than ‘alone’), on the grounds that this happens to every defeated invader, though he admits that monos could be exaggeration and fails to notice the parallel with §4n. The language of ‘error’ here, and of ‘folly’ and ‘covet[ing]’ below, reﬂects the transgressive presentation of the Amazons’ ambition throughout this narrative. οὐδ’ οἴκαδε ἀπελθούσαις ἀπαγγεῖλαι (‘nor [was it granted] to them to return home and report . . .’). The point seems to be that the Amazons are envisaged as being wiped out without survivors (cf. ατο' . . . α2ποθανο'σαι ‘they perished here’), which is not a normal part of the myth: see further next note but one. τῶν ἡµετέρων προγόνων (‘our ancestors’). Where the meaning is clear, Greek tends to use personal possessive pronouns much less than English does. Here it is

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perhaps justiﬁed by the contrast with ‘their own’ disasters (spheteran auto¯n), but the repeated use in this speech of the possessive he¯meteroi to denote ‘our’ ancestors (here and at §17, §23, and §32) is striking. For the suggestion that Plato (Menex. 239d2–3) is deliberately making fun of this arriviste usage, see p. 156 above. Thucydides, by contrast, refers to them in a similar context simply as τν προγ*νων (Thuc. 2.36.1).16 τὴν δὲ ἑαυτῶν πατρίδα . . . ἀνώνυµον κατέστησαν (‘they left their own fatherland without a name’). Describing the Amazonian homeland as ‘nameless’ may be part of an elaborate literary game, relying on the perceived gap between mythic and historical worlds: with the growth of geographical knowledge, the audience is assumed to know that the traditional land of the Amazons is now part of the civilised world. A more obvious literary game is the use of patris (for which cf. also §17n): it is not obvious that a race of women would have a fatherland.

§§7–10: The Mythological Past: (b) Burial of the Seven Against Thebes §7. Ἀδράστου δὲ καὶ Πολυνείκους ἐπὶ Θήβας στρατευσάντων καὶ ἡττηθέντων µάχῃ (‘when Adrastos and Polyneikes campaigned against Thebes and were defeated’). Part of a cycle of legend that forms the subject of many Greek tragedies, including Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes and Sophocles’ Antigone. This particular episode is most famous (at least to us) from Euripides’ Suppliants, though at least one other dramatic version was available in antiquity, in the shape of Aeschylus’ lost Eleusinians, which differed in one important respect from that found in Euripides and in the funeral speeches (see §8n). As is noted at §§3–16n, to name individual Athenians goes against the collective ideology of the funeral speeches, but this does not apply to non-Athenians. Although no other funeral speech is as detailed as this account, some related texts are comparable: Hdt. 9.27.3 names Polyneikes (though not Adrastos), while Isok. 4.55 gives considerably more information about Adrastos’ own failed campaign against Thebes (dealing with the Athenian campaign, by contrast, in rather more general terms at 4.58–59).17 οὐκ ἐώντων Καδµείων θάπτειν τοὺς νεκρούς (‘the Thebans would not allow the bodies to be buried’). Strictly ‘Kadmeians’ (named after Kadmos, the legendary founder of the city). It is notable that the Thebans themselves are called by this name on both the occasions that they appear as Athens’ opponents in §§7–10, just as ‘Argives/Mycenaeans’ are never mentioned by name as Athens’ opponents throughout §§10–16;18 and it is at ﬁrst sight tempting to see this a reﬂection of 16 For comparison, Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos speaks of ‘our progonoi’ (variously Gµν and Gµ τεροι) at 4.28, 51, 58, 64, 69, 85, 87, 119, 159; of progonoi without speciﬁcation at 4.61, 73; uses the term in another context at 4.137; and the text is contested at 4.91. 17 The non-epitaphic version in Isok. 12.168–171 is similarly detailed about Adrastos’ prior failure, but differs in naming Theseus and in having the Thebans restore the bodies without ﬁghting: for the latter, see §8n below. 18 The Argives do appear by name §§7–10, but as suppliants (§8) and bodies (§10), not as enemies.

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the political sensitivities of the late 390s, when Thebes and Argos were in alliance with Athens. Thebes as a city, however, is mentioned at the start of §7, and the fact that Herodotos’ version of the story also speaks of Kadmeians (Hdt. 9.27.3) suggests that it could be a generic convention rather than a temporary expedient.19 ἐκείνους µέν, εἴ τι ἠδίκουν (‘that if these men had committed any offence’). In his discussion of Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes, Cameron (1968: 252) rightly notes that rival versions of the story will have varied, and that we should not therefore import into our readings of the play the assumption familiar from Euripides’ Phoenician Women that Eteokles has cheated his brother out of the kingdom. This is methodologically an important point, but I am not persuaded by Cameron’s further insistence that Lys. 2.7–10 shows that ‘the commonplace story laid all the blame on Polyneices’. The only absolute and independent moral judgment made in this passage concerns the wrongness of refusing burial in the sentence which follows: the proposition that the dead might have done wrong is stated here only in conditional terms, and the idea that they deserved to be punished is stated only from the perspective of their enemies. ἀποθανόντας δίκην ἔχειν τὴν µεγίστην (‘they had paid the supreme penalty by dying’). For a similar sentiment in similar context, cf. Eurip. Suppl. 528–530. ‘Supreme penalty’ as a euphemism for capital punishment is a commonplace in forensic speeches also, though normally without the explicit mention of death. The implication of the phrase is to ignore the possibility that for offences such as treason, the death-sentence was regularly exacerbated e.g. by the denial of burial within Attica: cf. similarly 1.31n. τοὺς δὲ κάτω τὰ αὑτῶν οὐ κοµίζεσθαι, ἱερῶν δὲ µιαινοµένων τοὺς ανω θεοὺς ἀσεβεῖσθαι (‘that the gods below were not receiving their dues, and that impiety was being committed against the gods above because the sacred rites were being polluted’). For the cultic signiﬁcance of this distinction between Chthonic and Olympian gods, see the reservations expressed by Parker (1996b). It is not clear whether burial is itself being classed as a sacred rite that is being withheld, or whether the idea is that other rituals are being impeded as a result.20 For pollution as something affecting shrines rather than simply affecting humans, see Parker (1983: 145 with n. 7, citing this passage). The absolute nature of the moral principle here, and the tension created by its relationship with the Athenian legal rule of denying burial within Attica to traitors, are discussed respectively in the two preceding notes. 19 Of the two other epitaphioi to mention the story, Plato (Menex. 239b5) uses ‘Kadmeians’, while Dem. 60.8 individualises by speaking of Kreon. By contrast, Isok. 4.58 refers to them as The¯baioi, but is not strictly an epitaphios. 20 For the impeding of other rituals, compare Teiresias’ speech in Soph. Antigone, 998–1032. My inclination is that this is probably the meaning intended here: although you can speak of hiera (‘sacred ’, as here) being performed at a tomb, this signiﬁes rites performed annually in commemoration of the dead (e.g. Isai. 9.36), whereas for the interment itself you would tend to use words like nomizomena (‘customary ’, as at §9).

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πέµψαντες κήρυκας ἐδέοντο αὐτῶν δοῦναι τῶν νεκρῶν ἀναίρεσιν (‘they sent heralds and asked to take up their bodies’). When done by the loser in a hoplite battle, this is to concede defeat (Van Wees 2004: 136), but here it is an act of third-party magnanimity. §8. ἐστράτευσαν ἐπ’ αὐτούς (‘they made war against them [i.e. the Thebans]’). There is a detailed analysis of this narrative in Walters (1980: 10–14), who notes the contrast between versions of the story where the Athenian use of violence to recover the bodies is either stated (here and also at Hdt. 9.27.3) or at least implied (Pl. Menex. 239b5, and Dem. 60.8), and those in which the bodies are returned either voluntarily (the Theban version according to Pausan. 1.39.2) or as the result of diplomacy (the majority account, including Aeschylus’ lost Eleusinians, according to Plut. Theseus, 29.4–5): see further §10n. The righteous use of violence is a characteristic theme of funeral speeches, though we ﬁnd it also in Euripides’ Suppliants; Isokrates, who presents the violent version in the Pane¯gyrikos (4.58–59), is willing in non-epitaphic contexts such as 12.170–171 to present the diplomatic alternative. οὐδεµιᾶς διαϕορᾶς πρότερον πρὸς Καδµείους ὑπαρχούσης (‘even though no previous quarrel existed between the Thebans and themselves’). Again, ‘Kadmeians’. For a very similar phrase, again emphasising the disinterested nature of the Athenian quest for justice, see §14n. There may however in each case be a contemporary application also (‘we’ve had lots of problems with Thebans and Peloponnesians since then. . .’). οὐδὲ τοῖς ζῶσιν Ἀργείων χαριζόµενοι (‘nor were they doing this to please those of the Argives who were still alive’). The nearest Lysias gets to describing the survivors and/or relatives of the dead as suppliants, which is such a powerful theme in Euripides’ version (said of the mothers at Suppl. 100; of the sons at Suppl. 106–107). Even here, their suppliant status is not emphasised (there is no sense for instance that the Athenians are acting at their request), which serves to make the Athenian action more the disinterested product of a desire for justice. §9. τῶν νοµιζοµένων τυγχάνειν (‘to receive the customary rites’). For burial of the dead (glossed later in the sentence with the phrase ‘being deprived of Greek rites’) as an international nomos of the Greeks, see Eurip. Suppl. 526–527 (τ ν Πανελλνων ν*µον / σqζων), 538 (πα´ση BΕλλα´δο κοιν ν τ*δε), and 671–672 (τ ν Παν λληνον ν*µον / σqζοντε). ἵνα µηκέτι εἰς τοὺς τεθνεῶτας ἐξαµαρτάνοντες πλείω περὶ τοὺς θεοὺς ἐξυβρίσωσιν (‘so that those who had committed crimes against the dead should no longer display continued hubris towards the gods’). Given the emphasis on the justice of Athens’ wars, we might expect hubris and its cognates to recur with some frequency in funeral speeches, but in fact it is relatively rare: apart from Gorgias’ statement that his subjects ‘proved themselves hubristai towards those who committed hubris’, its only appearances—as beﬁts Athens’ mythological rôle as moral

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arbiter—are in mythological contexts: the Seven here and at Dem. 60.8; the Herakleidai at §14; and the myth of Tereus at Dem. 60.28–29 (twice).21 There is an apparent play on the verb (ex)hamartano¯ (here ‘to commit crimes’, below ‘to fail to obtain’ the common hope, i.e. burial), which I have not attempted to catch in translation. ὑπὲρ δὲ τῶν ἑτέρων, ἵνα µὴ πρότερον εἰς τὴν αὑτῶν ἀπέλθωσι (‘on behalf of the others, so that they should not return home prematurely’). This is the manuscript reading, accepted by e.g. Carey, who notes however that several editors have been unhappy with proteron (‘prematurely’): Hude obelises the word, and other remedies have included the conjectures tapeinoteroi (Thalheim: ‘more lowly’, cf. Isok. 5.143 and 14.37), and luproteron or pikroteron (Emperius: ‘in a more wretched/more bitter state’). Several editors have deleted hetero¯n (‘others’: certainly otiose, though not necessarily wrong). §10. πολλοὺς µὲν πολεµίους κτώµενοι (‘they made many enemies’). Worded as if it is meant as a general assessment of Athenian policy during the heroic age, though it leads into further discussion of the same episode. οὐχ ὑπὸ τῆς τύχης ἐπαρθέντες (‘not because they had been stirred up by success’), lit. ‘fortune’, but with more of a sense of ‘good fortune’ than the English word. αὐτοὶ δὲ λαβόντες τὰ αθλα ὧνπερ ἕνεκα ἀϕίκοντο, τοὺς Ἀργείων νεκρούς (‘they collected the prize for which they had come, the bodies of the Argives’). An odd intrusion of the idea of competitiveness, for which see §1n. It does however serve to emphasise the limited nature of Athenian aims and their punctilious limitation of military action to those aims. Ἐλευσῖνι (‘at Eleusis’), i.e. in Attica. Both Homer (Iliad, 14.193) and Pindar (Olympian, 6.15–16; Nemean, 9.22–24) seem to presuppose that the Seven were buried at Thebes, but burial at Eleusis is found in Hdt. 9.27.3, and Eleusis forms the setting of Euripides’ Suppliants. The play itself, however, is less concerned with the ﬁnal resting-place than it is with Theseus’ personal involvement with the preparation of the corpses (lines 760–770), and the implication is that the bones of the Seven are to be repatriated to Argos (line 1185), albeit evidently after cremation at Eleusis (lines 1123–1124). For the cultic signiﬁcance of possessing a hero’s corpse, see p. 150 with n. 7 above. περὶ µὲν οὖν τοὺς ἀποθανόντας τῶν ἑπτὰ ἐπὶ Θήβας τοιοῦτοι γεγόνασιν (‘that was how they behaved towards those of the Seven against Thebes who had died’). The ﬁrst mention of the Seven Against Thebes as if a title within inverted commas serves to round off this section of the narrative.

21

For the relative frequency with which the term is used in epideictic speeches by Isokrates, see §5n.

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§§11–16: The Mythological Past: (c) Protecting the Herakleidai §11. ἐξ ἀνθρώπων ἠϕανίσθη (‘had vanished from among men’). An interesting phrase to describe Herakles’ unique combination of death and/or apotheosis.22 Herodotos uses aphanizo¯ and cognates in contexts which imply that a dead man subsequently received hero-cult (it is found three times each in the stories of Aristeias of Prokonnesos in Hdt. 4.14–15, and of Hamilcar at Himera in Hdt. 7.166–167). I am not aware of any direct parallels relating to Herakles himself, and was surprised to discover that aphanizo¯ appears only ﬁve times in tragedy, where the closest example is its use to describe the disappearance of the knot of wool with which his wife Deianeira anointed the fatal robe that killed him (Soph. Trakh. 676); it is not found for instance where one might expect it at the start of Euripides’ Herakleidai, where Herakles is described as being ‘removed from the earth’ (γ8 α2πηλλα´χθη, Eurip. Hkld. 12). οἱ δὲ παῖδες αὐτοῦ ἔϕευγον µὲν Εὐρυσθέα (‘his children were trying to escape from Eurystheus’). On the rôle played by Eurystheus in this narrative, see §13n. The imperfect tense here implies continuous or incipient action, with no sense as yet that they have succeeded in escaping. Aristotle (Rhet. 2.22.6 = 1396a12–14) describes Athenian support for the Herakleidai as one of three mandatory themes in Athenian eulogies of Athens, third in his sentence structure after the battles of Salamis and Marathon. It formed the subject most famously of Euripides’ Herakleidai, with which the narrative here has many parallels but also some differences (the epitaphic tradition focuses entirely on the part played by Athenians collectively, for instance, suppressing on the one hand Demophon’s activity as king of Athens,23 and more signiﬁcantly the self-help rendered by non-Athenians such as Herakles’ eldest son Hyllos and especially his aged friend and kinsman Iolaos), and is the subject also of Aeschylus’ lost play of the same name. ἐξηλαύνοντο δὲ ὑπὸ πάντων τῶν Ἑλλήνων (‘they were being driven away by all the other Greeks’). Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 57), noting that the version in Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos presents the Herakleidai as choosing Athens on the ground that other cities would be unable to assist (τα` α%λλα π*λει 7περορντε, Isok. 4.56), suggests that we have here a Lysianic addition to the narrative designed to emphasise pathos, and compares the extended description of the orphaned plaintiffs’ departure from the house of their guardian in Lys. 32.16. On the status of the Herakleidai as suppliants, see next-note-but-two. Athens’ rôle as protector of Greece as a whole (as in the case of the Amazons) but speciﬁcally of those who are weak (as in this episode and that of the Seven Against Thebes) is fundamental

22 Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 57) renders ξ α2νθρ=πων as ‘from the face of the earth’ (‘dalla facia della terra’), which does not quite convey the sense that he was subsequently to be found as something other than a man. 23 Compare the suppression of Theseus in the narratives of the Amazons and of the Seven, for which see §§3–16n (ﬁnal para); §5n; and §10n.

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to the epitaphic narrative, and there may therefore be a conscious contrast between ‘all the Greeks’ who reject the Herakleidai here, and ‘the whole of Greece’ which is defended by Athens at Marathon (see §20n). αἰσχυνοµένων µὲν τοῖς ἔργοις, ϕοβουµένων δὲ τὴν Εὐρυσθέως δύναµιν (‘who were ashamed at their actions, but afraid of Eurystheus’ power’). At this stage in the narrative, while Athens is the supporter of the weak, dunamis is generally transgressive (cf. §12 το; δυναµ νοι χαριζ*µενοι, ‘to please those in power’), though this changes when Athens restores the proper moral order (§15 δS δυνα´µει, ‘their own forces’, is clearly positive). The shame of the other Greeks at their inability to resist tyranny does not seem to be paralleled in other epitaphic accounts, and may also reﬂect the contemporary political situation (see further §13n). ἀϕικόµενοι εἰς τήνδε τὴν πόλιν ἱκέται ἐπὶ τῶν βωµῶν ἐκαθέζοντο (‘the children of Herakles came to our polis and sat down at the altars’). The ﬁrst explicit mention of Athens as receiver of suppliants (contrast §8n). §12. ἐξαιτουµένου δὲ αὐτοὺς Εὐρυσθέως Ἀθηναῖοι οὐκ ἠθέλησαν ἐκδοῦναι (‘despite Eurystheus’ demands, the Athenians refused to surrender them’). The standard terminology used to denote demands for extradition, for which exaiteo¯ is used both in the active and in the middle with no apparent difference of meaning (Hdt. 1.74.1 and 1.159.1–2 respectively, both times in close conjunction with ekdido¯mi; for the passive, used of the person being demanded, compare Dem. 18.41). The context of each of these passages is (as here) one of diplomatic threat rather than legal process: it is not something that seems to have found itself into Greek systems of international law (though see Bravo 1982 on androle¯psia). Iolaos in Euripides (Hkld. 18–20) seems to regard as particularly outrageous (hubrisma) the fact that as soon as Eurystheus heard the whereabouts of the Herakleidai he had had systematically sent heralds to demand their extradition (exaitei), and the herald threatens them in peculiarly speciﬁc terms that they will be taken back to Argos and there stoned to death (Hkld. 59–60). τὴν Ἡρακλέους ἀρετὴν µᾶλλον ᾐδοῦντο ἢ τὸν κίνδυνον τὸν ἑαυτῶν ἐϕοβοῦντο (‘they respected the bravery of Herakles more than they feared the danger to themselves’). Note the care taken not to use the language of personal beneﬁt, even though Theseus in particular had received considerable assistance from Herakles. See further §14n. ἠξίουν ὑπὲρ τῶν ἀσθενεστέρων µετὰ τοῦ δικαίου διαµάχεσθαι µᾶλλον ἢ τοῖς δυναµένοις χαριζόµενοι τοὺς ὑπ’ ἐκείνων ἀδικουµένους ἐκδοῦναι (‘they believed that they should ﬁght on the side of justice for those who were weaker, rather than surrender people who had been wronged by those in power simply to please the latter’). The equivalent section of the mythological narrative in the Pane¯gyrikos is preceded by an explicit statement of Athens’ status as protector of the powerless against oppression in disregard of its own diplomatic self-interest (Isok. 4.53).

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§13. Εὐρυσθέως µετὰ τῶν ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ χρόνῳ Πελοπόννησον ἐχόντων (‘Eurystheus, together with those who at that time controlled the Peloponnese’). An interesting periphrasis, which at ﬁrst sight suggests that the intended audience is supposed to read the myth in terms of the political situation of the late ﬁfth and early fourth century, with Eurystheus standing as proxy for the Peloponnesian League and so for Sparta. (This would be a more contrived version of the familiar equation whereby Menelaos’ family links with Agamemnon allow the latter to be presented in a similar rôle.) The very similar phrasing in Hdt. 9.27.2 (τοZ τ*τε -χοντα Πελοπ*ννησον, ‘those who then controlled the Peloponnese’), however, should make us cautious of accepting this hypothesis too readily, on the grounds that such a reading is less appropriate for Herodotos and his audience. On the other hand, it is worth noting that whereas Herodotos and Plato speak of Athens struggling against Mycenaeans and Argives respectively, Lysias is careful not to specify which city Eurystheus is king of, which allows a much easier slippage for him to become a proxy-Spartan.24 ἐγγὺς τῶν δεινῶν (‘when facing danger’), lit. ‘close to terrible things’. Deina, not kindunos as in §3 and elsewhere (cf. §3n). τὴν αὐτὴν εἶχον γνώµην ἥνπερ πρότερον (‘kept to the same resolve that they had had previously’). Consistency of moral purpose is one of the themes of this speech: compare for instance the link between autochthony (always having lived in the same territory) and justice at §17n. ἀγαθὸν µὲν οὐδὲν ἰδίᾳ ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτῶν πεπονθότες (‘even though they had received no personal beneﬁts at the hands of the boys’ father’). At ﬁrst sight this is an odd line to run, given Herakles’ status as benefactor of mankind in general, and particularly the beneﬁts that Theseus had allegedly received (rescuing from Hades, and even in one version killing the vengeful Amazon at the wedding), but the emphasis is presumably on the personal and the collective: the Athenian community had not beneﬁted any more than mankind in general. Contrast the general and future terms in which Athens’ relationship with the Argives is described in §8. ἐκείνους τ’ οὐκ εἰδότες ὁποῖοί τινες ανδρες ἔσονται γενόµενοι (‘they could not know what sort of men the boys themselves were going to turn out to be’). This topos can be used in two ways. It can mean that the child is known subsequently to have turned out very badly (as at Lys. 14.17), though the implication here has surely to be the opposite. It is however ironic that the Herakleidai as a clan are in some sense responsible for the Dorian invasion and thus for the strength of Sparta as leader of the Dorian Peloponnese, making them the progenitors of Athens’ 24 Hdt. 9.27.2 ‘Mycenaeans’; Pl. Menex. 239b5–6 ‘Argives’ (contrast Isok. 4.56–60). The conﬂation is a standard one (Eurip. Hkld. for instance speaks of Argos at lines 7, 21, etc., and Mycenae at lines 85, 87, etc.), though Plato may have an additional subversive motive, because his formulation (‘they defended the Argives against the Kadmeians and the Herakleidai against the Argives’) allows him to present Athens as diplomatically inconsistent.

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enemies in the ﬁfth and early fourth centuries. The link between the Herakleidai and the rôle played by the Spartans in the Peloponnesian War is made explicit in Eurip. Hkld. 1032–1036, albeit in the mouth of their enemy Eurystheus, who offers his posthumous cultic protection as a hero to defend Athens against them. There is no hint of this in Lys. 2, though it may be a subtext that the reader is supposed to pick up. §14. δίκαιον δὲ νοµίζοντες εἶναι (‘believing their course of action to be just’). It is a function of the rhetoric of epitaphic mythology that it emphasises not only the justice of the Athenians’ actions, but also their altruism (cf. 7π&ρ ατν ‘on the boys’ behalf’, later in the sentence). Other Greeks appear in this context essentially as passive ﬁgures: their presence is implied in the phrase πλDν δ*ξη α2γαθ8 (‘except to their reputation’), but never stated, while it is only the Athenians who have the courage to respond to injustice (τοZ µ&ν α2δικουµ νου λεο'ντε ‘they took pity on those who were being wronged’). οὐ προτέρας ἔχθρας ὑπαρχούσης πρὸς Εὐρυσθέα (‘they had no previous quarrel with Eurystheus’). Unlike Athens’ relationship with those who beneﬁt from its patronage (the Argives at §8 and the family of Herakles, for which see §13n), its relationship with its two most recent sets of enemies (Eurystheus here and the Thebans at §8) is described in strikingly similar terms. τοὺς δ’ ὑβρίζοντας µισοῦντες (‘they hated those who were committing hubris’). For the use of hubris and its cognates in funeral speeches, see §9n. εὐψυχίας δ’ ὑπὲρ τούτων ἀµϕοτέρων, εἰ δέοι, µαχοµένους ἀποθνῄσκειν (‘and a mark of courage that they should ﬁght and die, if necessary, on behalf of both these’). Since there is no obvious other group to refer to alongside those who are being wronged, amphotero¯n here is probably neuter (‘both of these principles’) rather than masculine (‘both groups’, as at the start of §15). §15. οὐδὲν παῤ ἑκόντων ἐζήτουν εὑρίσκεσθαι (‘did not seek to acquire anything from those who were complaisant’). Hard to translate, since the emphasis appears to be on the hekonto¯n: better perhaps ‘it was not from those who were complaisant’—the point evidently being that they did try to get something from the Athenians but the Athenians (not being complaisant) refused. οὐκ <αν> ἠξίουν Εὐρυσθέα αὐτὸν ἱκετεύοντα τοὺς ἱκέτας παῤ ἑαυτῶν ἐξελεῖν (‘would not have allowed Eurystheus, if he supplicated, to drag away from them those who were suppliants’). The participle hiketeuonta (lit. ‘being a suppliant’, used here of Eurystheus) has caused difﬁculties ever since Hölscher (1837: 51) ﬁrst pointed out that he was not a suppliant in the technical sense at this stage in the narrative,25 but the insertion of the particle an (proposed by Jacobs and 25 Snell (1887.ii: 13–14) notes that he is presented as a suppliant in Isok. 4.59, but only after his defeat, which is therefore not directly relevant here. Snell himself suggests that Lysias is using the word in a non-literal sense, but does not provide parallels.

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accepted in Carey’s OCT) allows it to be read as an unreal hypothesis. For supplication, albeit primarily in legal contexts, see Naiden (2004). παραταξάµενοι δ’ ἰδίᾳ δυνάµει (‘they drew up their own forces against him’). ‘Their own’ does not really catch the nuance of idiai, the point of which is presumably to contrast the forces of a single polis with those of the whole Peloponnese. For the theme of isolation in this speech, see §20n. ἐκείνους τοῖς αὑτῶν κινδύνοις ἐστεϕάνωσαν (‘decorating them . . . with a garland that consisted of the dangers they themselves had undertaken’). An unusual metaphor, similar though not identical to the prizes (athla) at §10 and §35: in each of those cases the prize consists of what they were ﬁghting to achieve, whereas here the garland is the qualities demonstrated in the ﬁght. §16. τοσοῦτον δὲ εὐτυχέστεροι παῖδες ὄντες ἐγένοντο τοῦ πατρός (‘so much more fortunate did the boys become than their father’). A tragic topos most famous from Sophocles, Ajax, 550. τοὺς µὲν αλλους ἀδικοῦντας ἐκόλασεν, Εὐρυσθέα δὲ καὶ ἐχθρὸν ὄντα καὶ εἰς αὐτὸν ἐξαµαρτάνοντα οὐχ οἷός τε ἦν τιµωρήσασθαι (‘though he punished other wrongdoers, he was unable to defeat Eurystheus, who was his enemy and had wronged him speciﬁcally’). To punish the opponents of oneself and especially of mankind is an important part of the justiﬁcation of one’s claim to be a hero, or at least this sort of hero. For funeral oratory, it is important that Herakles should be the only mythological individual to play this part (hence the suppression of Theseus, for which cf. §§3–16n above), but also that he is ultimately unable to fulﬁl the demands of the rôle and is surpassed in this respect by the collectivity of Athenians.

§§17–19: Transitional Section: Autochthony Autochthony is a standard topos in funeral oratory, as also in some other Athenian literary genres,26 but its origins and meaning have undergone signiﬁcant revaluation in modern scholarship. Whereas Loraux for instance argued for a strong link with the belief that Athenians were ge¯geneis (‘born of the soil’), and sought to trace this combination of ideas back to early myths about the chthonic birth of legendary Athenian kings such as Erekhtheus and especially Erikhthonios,27 it has been argued persuasively by Rosivach that the two beliefs are potentially separable, and that both of them were developed as part of Athens’

26 Funeral speeches: here and at §43; Pl. Menex. 237b4–c3 (cf. also 238e5–239a7 and 245c6–d6); Dem. 60.4; Hyp. Epit. §7 (the idea, though not the word, is found also at Thuc. 2.36.1). Other Athenian oratory: mainly epideictic, as at Isok. 4.24, 63; 8.49; 12.124; but also forensic, as at Dem. 59.74 and Lyk. 1.41. Tragedy: Eurip. Ion, 29, 589–592, 735–740; Erekhtheus frag. 360 (Nauck) line 8 (ap. Lyk. 1.100). Comedy: Aristoph. Wasps, 1075–1080; Lysist. 1082. 27 Thus e.g. Loraux (1986: 148–149 with 339 n. 69), and in more detail Loraux (2000: 1–3 and 28–31, both of which are extracts from essays originally published in 1981).

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §17

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self-image at a relatively late stage, possibly the second quarter of the ﬁfth century.28 The general signiﬁcance of autochthony in Athenian funeral oratory is well discussed by Rosivach (1987: 302–304), who notes in particular the advantage of claiming the earliest possible origins for one’s polis in a world where old age generates respect, and the signiﬁcance of the claim to shared origins as a way of creating group identity (‘but as always in Athenian democracy equality levels up, not down’, Rosivach 1987: 303). The use of the topos in the present speech, however, displays some distinctive features, particularly of location. Whereas other funeral speeches tend to bring in autochthony at or near the outset, with their myths introduced either immediately thereafter or at a later stage,29 Lysias uses autochthony here to bridge the gap between mythical and historical narrative. The reason for this is uncertain,30 though the particular connection that is developed between autochthony and justice makes it an effective non-narrative myth with which to round off the preceding mythological narratives, and serves to highlight a theme which will be prominent in the historical narrative also (cf. §43). The use of autochthony as a summarising rather than an introductory theme is perhaps closer to what we ﬁnd in epideictic speeches such as the Pane¯gyrikos.31 §17. τοῖς ἡµετέροις προγόνοις (‘our ancestors’). See §6n. µιᾷ γνώµῃ χρωµένοις περὶ τοῦ δικαίου διαµάχεσθαι (‘to be of one mind and to ﬁght for justice’). The ﬁrst appearance in the speech of the theme of homonoia (unity of purpose), for which see §18n. 28 Rosivach (1987, esp. at p. 305 for the date). He cites evidence for the term autokhthones being applied to communities which are not said to be ge¯geneis (e.g. the Arkadians and Kynourians in the Peloponnese, glossed by Hdt. 8.73.1 as having always inhabited the same territory, Rosivach 1987: 297); we may add that there are other Greek communities who were born of the soil without apparently being autochthonous (e.g. Kadmos’ sown men at Thebes, in Eurip. Herakles, 4–7). For the complex relationship between authochthony and potentially contradictory myths of Athenian origins such as those related to Ionian migration, see J. M. Hall (1997: 53–56). 29 Thus e.g. Dem. 60.4 (with the Amazons & co. at 60.8); Pl. Menex. 237b4–c3 (with the introduction of crops at 237e7–238b1) and 238e5–239a7 (with the Amazons & co. at 239b3–8); Hyp. Epit. §7 (with no space for myth in the preceding sections of the speech); and Thuc., 2.35.1 (with no myth in the speech). 30 I am not convinced by the suggestion of Frangeskou (1999: 320) that the topos receives more emphasis in Plato and Demosthenes and that the reason for this is that Lysias as a metic was embarrassed about it. For one thing, it is dealt with here at some length; for another, the way in which Athenian ancestry is appropriated in this speech (cf. §6n) would hardly lead us to expect embarrassment. 31 S. Perlman (1961: 159) observes that whereas the funeral speeches use autochthony in praise of Athens, the Pane¯gyrikos does so to criticise Sparta. Certainly the context both at Isok. 4.23 and at Isok. 4.61–62 is one of rival claims to hegemony, but there may be a hint of this also at §17n, and similarly in Pl. Menex. 245c6–d6. Nouhaud (1982: 60–61), by contrast, distinguishes between speeches which use autochthony as a slogan (Lys. 2.17, Isok. 4.24, and Isok. 12.124), those which feel the need to introduce proof (Menex. 237b4–c3, and Dem. 60.4), and those which use the topos as an excuse not to talk about individuals (Hyp. Epit. §7).

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ἥ τε γὰρ ἀρχὴ τοῦ βίου δικαία (‘because the origin of their life was just’). The point presumably being that Athenians were in a particularly good position to champion justice because they occupied their own land by virtue of autochthony rather than invasion (for the contrast, cf. following note). οὐ γάρ, ὥσπερ οἱ πολλοί (‘they were not, like the majority of peoples’). One of the reasons for the success of autochthony as an ideological construct was that it drew on Athenian legal thinking about citizenship and land. The latter was acquired ideally by inheritance rather than by purchase, the former typically by descent rather than place of birth, leaving immigrants and their descendants to be marked out as metics, whose diverse origins contrasted with those of the Athenian descent-group. What is less common about this passage is that it links the negative connotations of disparate origins with those of acquisition by conquest.32 There would seem to be an allusion to the Spartans’ claim to be the descendants of Dorian conquerors of the Peloponnese. τὴν αὐτὴν ἐκέκτηντο µητέρα καὶ πατρίδα (‘they had the same land both as mother and as fatherland’). On the use of patris (‘fatherland’) vis-à-vis polis in archaic and classical authors, see generally Nielsen (2004). Within the Orators, repeated appearances of the term tend to be characteristic of speeches in which there is a particular emotional appeal. Nothing in the Lysianic corpus matches Dem. 18 and Lyk. 1, where it appears 32 and 70 times respectively, but it is found eight times in the present speech and six times in Lys. 31, both of which (like Dem. 18 and Lyk. 1), appeal extensively to patriotism; and six times in Lys. 3, where there is a tone of pathos in the repeated plea not to be exiled from the fatherland. For the fatherland as nursing mother, cf. e.g. Isok. 4.25; Lyk. 1.21, 1.53; Pl. Rep. 575d7–8. §18. πρῶτοι δὲ καὶ µόνοι ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ χρόνῳ (‘the ﬁrst people, and at that time the only ones’). For the ﬁrst/only topos, see §4n. ἐκβαλόντες τὰς παρὰ σϕίσιν αὐτοῖς δυναστείας δηµοκρατίαν κατεστήσαντο (‘to have driven out those who held autocratic power among them [lit. ‘their dunasteiai’, pl.], and to have established democracy [de¯mokratia]’). For the connotations of dunasteia in the Orators, see 9.14n. On the assumption that the abolition of dunasteiai here is an anonymising allusion to Theseus’ sunoikismos or uniﬁcation of Attica,33 the ﬁnal phrase would refer to his status as mythological founder of democracy (for which see e.g. Plut. Theseus, 24.2 and 25.1–2). The link between autochthony and democracy is not spelt out here, but presumably relies on the idea that autochthony is something in which all true-born Athenians share equally.

32 The only parallel in the Orators known to me is Isok. 4.24, which takes the sequence of thought even further because its contrast with the autochthonous Athenians includes not only those who conquer but also those who settle an uninhabited land. 33 See the discussion of the relationship between this passage and Isok. 4.39 at p. 159 above.

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ἡγούµενοι τὴν πάντων ἐλευθερίαν ὁµόνοιαν εἶναι µεγίστην (‘in the belief that freedom for all is the greatest source of harmony’). Picking up the theme of unity introduced at §17n, and implicit in the concept of autochthony as the shared origin of all true-born Athenian citizens (§§17–19n). An additional reason for the repeated recurrence throughout this speech of terms related to homonoia (unity of purpose), however, is presumably the positive connotations that the word had acquired in Athens’ public image because of the Amnesty following the Democratic Restoration of 403. The Amnesty itself is the context of §63 Kµονοο'σαν δ& α2ντ στασιαζο$ση α2π φηναν (‘that [Athens] was united instead of being crippled by civil strife’), but see also §17 µιa γν=µb χρωµ νοι (‘[being] of one mind’); §20 γν*ντε 9µοια (‘because of . . . the harmony of their thoughts’); §24 µιa γν=µb πα´ντε γν*ντε (‘all of them in agreement’), and even metaphorically §43 Kµονοο'σαν (of good fortune ‘sufﬁcient to match’ their danger). §19. νόµῳ τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς τιµῶντες καὶ τοὺς κακοὺς κολάζοντες (‘they honoured according to nomos those who were good, and punished those who were bad’). It is not clear to me that there is any particular reason why the complex interplay between nomos, logos and ergon occurs here rather than at any other place in the speech, unless there is a link with the introduction of democracy in §18. (For the meanings of the terms, see the footnote to the translation.) A similarly complex interplay, though on that occasion of nomos and phusis, occurs at §§61–62. ἡγησάµενοι θηρίων µὲν ἔργον εἶναι ὑπ’ ἀλλήλων βίᾳ κρατεῖσθαι (‘in the belief that to be ruled forcibly by each other was an ergon for animals’). Reminiscent of Hesiod’s claim that the reason animals eat each other is that they have no dike¯ (‘justice’), which Zeus has given to mankind (Works & Days, 276–281). ὑπὸ νόµου µὲν βασιλευοµένους, ὑπὸ λόγου δὲ διδασκοµένους (‘being ruled by nomoi and taught by logos’). For the rôle of education in funeral speeches, see §3n. For the rule of law, see 1.34n. The combination of nomos with basileuomai (‘to be ruled by a king’) is to my knowledge unique in funeral speeches and throughout the Orators, though cf. Hdt. 3.38.4 (nomos in the sense of ‘custom’ as basileus, citing Pindar), and Hdt. 7.104.4 (for which cf. §25n: nomos in the sense of ‘law’ as despote¯s, albeit said of Spartans to a Persian King).

§§20–66: The Historical Past The historical narrative that makes up more than half this speech divides into three sections with unequal detail. First comes an account of the Persian Wars (§§20–47), which perhaps predictably focuses heavily on the battles of Marathon in 490 (§§20–26) and Salamis in 480 (§§32–43). Artemision and particularly Thermopylae, also in 480, receive relatively little attention (not surprisingly in the case of the latter, since no Athenians were involved), though rather more is said about Plataia in 479, not least because it is represented in such a way as to turn it into something very close to an Athenian triumph (§§44–47). The second stage of the narrative (§§48–57) is perhaps the most surprising, at least to readers of

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Thucydides,34 because it conﬂates into a very brief compass the pente¯kontaëtia of 478–431 and the Peloponnesian War of 431–404: the only episode recounted in detail is the Geraneia campaign of c.458 (§§49–53), and the Peloponnesian War itself is subsumed into a generalising summary of the Athenian Empire in its heyday (§§54–57). Finally comes what might best be described as a narrative of Athenian misfortune (§§58–66), selectively summarising events from the decisive defeat at Aigospotamoi in 405 (unnamed, §58), at the end of the Peloponnesian War, down to the democratic restoration of 403/2 (§§61–66) following the oligarchy of the Thirty (not itself mentioned). It will be noted from this summary that both the distribution of space, and perhaps more importantly the breaks in the narrative, are such as to surprise readers brought up with a canonical sense of periodisation derived ultimately from Thucydides. This is all the more striking given that (as will be seen) sections of the narrative show evident familiarity with the text both of Herodotos and of Thucydides himself.

§§20–26: The Historical Past: (a) The Persian Wars (i) The Marathon Campaign Idiosyncratic features in this ﬁrst section of the historical narrative include the suppression of the Ionian Revolt and consequently of Athens’ participation in the sack of Sardis, of the Persian sack of Eretria in the run-up to the Marathon campaign (most striking at §22n), and of the Plataian support for Athens at Marathon. The effect, as we saw at p. 155 above, is to make Persia uncomplicatedly the aggressor and Athens the isolated resister. §20. καὶ ϕύντες καλῶς καὶ γνόντες ὅµοια (‘because of the nobility of their nature and the harmony of their thoughts’), lit. ‘being nobly born and thinking in the same way’. This could mean ‘in the same way as just stated’ (i.e. their thoughts were as noble as their birth), which is the interpretation accepted in Lamb’s translation and in the glosses of Snell (1887.ii: 17) and of Bizos (1967: 52 n. 20). The alternative reading is ‘in the same way as each other’ (a reappearance of the homonoia theme, for which cf. §18n): this is regarded by Stevens (1882 [1876]: 181) as more plausible, rightly in my view, given the way in which the epitaphic tradition seeks to democratise what in the archaic period had been the glory of individual leaders and apply it instead to all hoplites (see p. 150 above). οἱ πρόγονοι τῶν ἐνθάδε κειµένων (‘the ancestors of the men who lie here’)—not on this occasion τν Gµετ ρων προγ*νων (contrast §6n). ἀείµνηστα δὲ καὶ µεγάλα καὶ πανταχοῦ . . . τρόπαια (‘many great and evermemorable trophies all over the world’). The ﬁrst of several references in this speech to battle-trophies (also at §25, §52 and §63), in addition to the mentions of prizes, both military (aristeia, §43) and sporting (§10, §35, both metaphors for 34

For the possibility of a close relationship between our speech and Thuc.’s text, see §38n.

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military victory). To establish everlasting memory (as already at §6 and again at §23) is a motivation common also to epic and to historiography, for which see e.g. Hdt. 1.pr. οἱ ἐξ ἐκείνων γεγονότες (‘their descendants’). The extent to which those being buried are subsumed within an ancestral tradition can be seen in the fact that the victors of Marathon are represented not as the ancestors of the deceased, but instead as the descendants of their mythological forefathers. µόνοι γὰρ ὑπὲρ ἁπάσης τῆς Ἑλλάδος πρὸς πολλὰς µυριάδας τῶν βαρβάρων διεκινδύνευσαν (‘they were the only ones to undergo dangers against countless myriads of barbarians, on behalf of the whole of Greece’). Picking up the theme of altruism which runs throughout the mythological narrative, and linking the theme of danger with that of isolation.35 It also prepares for the exaggerated numbers of the Persians even at Marathon (§21n). §21. οὐκ ἀγαπῶν τοῖς ὑπάρχουσιν ἀγαθοῖς, ἀλλ’ ἐλπίζων καὶ τὴν Εὐρώπην δουλώσεσθαι (‘was not content with what he already possessed, but wanted to enslave Europe as well’). The implication being that his motive is gratuitous expansionism rather than revenge for Athens’ activities at Sardis (cf. p. 155 above). The use of agapao¯ with the dative here proved of interest to the lexicographers, four of whom discuss it.36 πεντήκοντα µυριάδας στρατιάν (‘an army of ﬁfty myriads strong’). A grossly exaggerated ﬁgure, which is directly paralleled only in Plato’s Menexenos (240a6), where the phrasing is identical: the implications for the relationship between the two texts are discussed at p. 155 with n. 27 above. Isok. 4. 86, by contrast, simply has ‘many myriads’. εἰ τήνδε τὴν πόλιν ἢ ἑκοῦσαν ϕίλην ποιήσαιντο ἢ ακουσαν καταστρέψαιντο (‘if they could either turn our polis into a willing ally or force it unwillingly’). The implication being that Athens is sufﬁciently dominant among Greek states to hold the balance of power. The idea that an Athenian alliance would have led to Persian domination is explored at Hdt. 7.139 (Herodotos’ own view, which he admits to being polemical) and Hdt. 8.140–143 (a fear attributed to the Spartans), but in both cases the context is 480 rather than 490, and neither of them seriously explores the theme of willingness versus force. ἀπέβησαν εἰς Μαραθῶνα (‘they therefore sailed to Marathon’). With no reference to Hippias, who is said at Hdt. 6.102 to have chosen this location partly because of its suitability for cavalry. νοµίσαντες οὕτως αν ἐρηµοτάτους εἶναι συµµάχων [τοὺς Ἥλληνας] (‘thinking that this would leave very short of allies’). Emperius’ deletion of τοZ 35

Danger: see §3n. Isolation: compare §4n, and see also §22n, §24n, and esp. §26n. Lexicon Vindobonense, A.113, 21.8–11 (Nauck); Peri Suntaxeo¯s in Lexica Segueriana, p. 129.23–5 (Bekker); Philemon, p. 226.5–p. 227.3 (Osann); Souda A.161 (Adler); all s.v. agapo¯. 36

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mΕλληνα (‘the Greeks’) is followed by subsequent editors, on the grounds that the context would require a reference speciﬁcally to the Athenians. ἔτι στασιαζούσης τῆς Ἑλλάδος (‘while Greece was still in a state of disagreement’). Lit. ‘engaged in civil strife’ (as at §56, §61, and §63), but here it is presumably a metaphorical allusion to one or more of Herodotos’ congresses called to plan resistance to Persia, though once again (cf. last note but two) most of these relate to Xerxes’ invasion: Hdt. 7.145 (noting the decision to abandon existing enmities); 7.175; 7.207. §22. ἐκ τῶν προτέρων ἔργων (‘as the result of earlier actions’). This could be a cryptic allusion to Athens’ participation in the sack of Sardis, seeing it as evidence not of naïve stupidity (as at Hdt. 5.97.2) but rather of Athens’ altruistic support for its fellow-Greeks of Asia Minor under Persian rule. Elsewhere in the speech, however, this episode is suppressed, for reasons discussed at p. 155 above. More likely, therefore, is a reference to the Athenian tradition of altruism represented in the mythological narrative of §§4–16: something that in reality the Persians would not have known, but this is mythologising historiography. ὡς εἰ µὲν πρότερον ἐπ’ αλλην πόλιν ἴασιν (‘that if they attacked any other polis’). This is the stage at which the suppression of Eretria becomes most striking, since in reality the Persians did ﬁrst attack another polis: for the contrast with Plato’s Menexenos, and the implications for the relationship between the two texts, see p. 155 above. ἑτέρους σῴζοντας ϕανερὰν ἔχθραν πρὸς ἐκείνους ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν καταθέσθαι (‘to defend another city if this meant creating open hostility with the Persians for its sake’), lit. ‘by defending other people, to create open hostility for their sakes against those men’. Preparing for another suppression, this time of the help Athens sought from Sparta and received from Plataia, cf. §23n and §24n. §23. ἀλλὰ νοµίζοντες τὸν εὐκλεᾶ θάνατον ἀθάνατον περὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν καταλείπειν λόγον (‘but reckoned that among brave men, a glorious death leaves behind an immortal fame’). The concept of the ‘beautiful death’ of the heroic warrior has been particularly inﬂuential in French scholarship. A series of essays by Vernant (1991: esp. 50–74 and 84–91) take as their starting point the paradoxical description in Iliad 22 of the Greeks admiring the physical beauty of the dead Hektor even as they take turns to disﬁgure it, while Loraux (1986: 98–118 at p. 105) argues that it is characteristic of funeral speeches to praise not the lives of the citizens but their choice of death. αἰσχυνόµενοι ὅτι ἦσαν οἱ βάρβαροι αὐτῶν ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ (‘they were ashamed because the barbarians were within their territory’). What makes this a cause for shame, in ancient Greek thinking, is partly that one’s reputation ought to frighten off potential invaders, and partly that as they come over the border one ought to be waiting for them in the nearest ﬁeld suitable for hoplite battle.

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§23–25

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οὐκ ἀνέµειναν πυθέσθαι οὐδὲ βοηθῆσαι τοὺς συµµάχους (‘they did not wait for their allies to be informed or to help them’). Not formally untrue, but distinctly misleading. The emphasis on the speed of Athens’ response in sending the army out to Marathon before they knew whether they had any allies (which is fully compatible with the account at Hdt. 6.102–106) allows attention to be distracted from their prior attempt to canvass such support from Sparta (Pheidippides’ mission, Hdt. 6.105.1), and also from the support that they did receive from the Plataians (apparently unsolicited, Hdt. 6.108.1). §24. ταῦτα µιᾷ γνώµῃ πάντες γνόντες (‘all of them in agreement on this point’). Once again, language suggestive of homonoia (cf. §18n), though Herodotos’ subsequent anecdote about the shield-signal (6.115 and 6.121.1) suggests at least a perception that patriotic unanimity was not unlimited. οὓς µὴ µόνοι νικῷεν, οὐδ’ αν µετὰ τῶν συµµάχων δύνασθαι (‘that those who could not win on their own should not be able to win with the help of allies either’). Once again (as at §23n) this statement can formally be justiﬁed on the grounds that at the moment of setting out they did not know whether any allies would materialise, but its implications are grossly misleading. §25. ανδρες δ’ ἀγαθοὶ γενόµενοι (‘they proved to be brave men’), lit. ‘became’, but in Greek it can be used of a characteristic that is already true but is now being demonstrated further. καὶ τῶν µὲν σωµάτων ἀϕειδήσαντες, ὑπὲρ δὲ τῆς ἀρετῆς οὐ ϕιλοψυχήσαντες (‘neither sparing of their own bodies nor faint-hearted in the pursuit of arete¯’). Both verbs are rare in speeches, but may have patriotic connotations. Apheideo¯ (‘to be unsparing’) occurs nowhere else in the Orators, and the cognate adverb only ﬁve times, one of which is epitaphic (Dem. 60.13). Philopsukheo¯ (‘to love one’s life’, sc. too much), by contrast, is found on four other occasions, once in a funeral speech (Dem. 60.28) and twice in Lykourgos’ diatribe against Leokrates (Lyk. 1.107 [quotation] and 1.130). καὶ µᾶλλον τοὺς παρ’ αὑτοῖς νόµους αἰσχυνόµενοι ἢ τὸν πρὸς τοὺς πολεµίους κίνδυνον ϕοβούµενοι (‘and they respected the established nomoi more than they feared danger at the hands of the enemy’), lit. ‘the nomoi among them’.37 This looks as if it may be an appropriation of Demaratos’ famous response to Xerxes, that the Spartans serve law (nomos) as their master, which they fear more than Xerxes’ men fear him (Hdt. 7.104.4). ἔστησαν µὲν τρόπαιον ὑπὲρ τῆς Ἑλλάδος τῶν βαρβάρων ἐν τῇ αὑτῶν, ὑπὲρ χρηµάτων εἰς τὴν ἀλλοτρίαν ἐµβαλόντων [παρὰ τοὺς ὅρους τῆς χώρας] (‘they put up a trophy on behalf of Greece within their own territory over the barbarians, 37 In Todd (2000a: 32), I translated this as ‘their own laws’ (albeit with a footnote indicating the ambiguity of nomos as law or custom), but on reﬂection this would suggest a simple preference for local custom, with connotations of capriciousness which do not seem to be present in the Greek.

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who had invaded another [sc. territory] in pursuit of wealth’). Despite the odd word-order, the phrase ν τ^ α7τν ‘within their own territory’38 must presumably refer to the setting-up of the trophy. For trophies, see §20n; for greed as the Persians’ motive, see §20n. §26. ὥστε οἱ αὐτοὶ τοῖς αλλοις ἀπήγγειλαν τήν τ’ ἐνθάδε αϕιξιν τῶν βαρβάρων καὶ τὴν νίκην τῶν προγόνων (‘[so quickly] that the same messengers announced to the others both the arrival here of the barbarians and the victory won by our ancestors’), i.e. announced both events to the other Greeks, with no measurable delay between them. Herodotos’ narrative presupposes a much more relaxed chronology, with Pheidippides taking two days to run the c.140 miles to Sparta to request help, followed by a ﬁve-day Spartan delay until the full moon (6.106– 107); the Spartans then take three days over the march to Athens, before arriving in time to hear the news of the battle (6.120). By minimising the delay, Lysias’ version allows Sparta’s late arrival to be generalised into the misleading assertion that Athens neither received nor even sent for help (thereby suppressing the even more famous presence of the Plataians).39 Isokrates’ version of events in the Pane¯gyrikos similarly asserts that the Athenians marched out without waiting for their allies, but exaggerates also the speed of the Spartan response by omitting Herodotos’ statement that they waited until the full moon (Isok. 4.86–87): the resulting picture is one of friendly competition for glory. πάλαι τῶν ἔργων γεγενηµένων (‘in view of the deeds that were performed long ago’). Probably causal, but as often the logical function of a genitive absolute is unstated, and it could be concessive (‘even though so long ago. . .’). ὥσπερ καινῶν ὄντων ἔτι καὶ νῦν τὴν ἀρετὴν αὐτῶν ὑπὸ πάντων ἀνθρώπων ζηλοῦσθαι (‘even today their merit is esteemed by all mankind as if their deeds were still new’). The uniquely high status in Athenian mythography of the victors of Marathon, even above those of (for instance) Salamis, is widely attested.40 It is partly that they are the ﬁrst to have resisted the Persians successfully in a pitched battle, and also that they can be represented as acting in heroic isolation. (A modern parallel would be the way in which Battle of Britain pilots are represented in UK accounts of the Second World War.) Their status as hoplites, however, may also be relevant: even after Athens’ establishment as a naval empire, the ideology of the polis as a hoplite community continued to be powerful. (The rôle played by the commemoration speciﬁcally of hoplites within the epitaphic tradition is noted at p. 150 above.) 38 If correct, cf. Carey’s apparatus: the alternative is to accept the emendation κ τ8 α7τν (‘from their own territory’), reading this as part of the ‘invaded’ clause, and taking it in conjunction with the phrase παρα` τοZ 9ρου τ8 χ=ρα (‘in breach of the boundaries of the land’), which is deleted by Carey following Gernet & Bizos. 39 For the theme of isolation, see generally p. 155 above, with examples at §4n, §20n, §22n, and §24n. 40 For example, of 5th-cent. sources alone Aristoph., Akharnians, 181, and esp. Clouds, 986. For Plato’s ranking order at Menex. 240e6–241a2, see §§32–43n.

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §27

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§§27–31: The Historical Past: (a) The Persian Wars (ii) Xerxes’ Invasion None of the other funeral speeches deals with the arrival of Xerxes’ expedition. The bridging of the Hellespont and the canal at Athos are touched on brieﬂy at Isok. 4.88–89, but without any parallel to the complex calculations here of the size of Xerxes’ army. Considerable care is taken not precisely to replicate Herodotos’ account of such matters, which (perhaps paradoxically) suggests a close intertextual relationship, and there may be occasions where Lysias is playing with our knowledge of this (cf. the ironic signiﬁcance of the second bridge at §28n). §27. µετὰ ταῦτα δέ (‘later on’). Rather a Herodotean chronological marker. It is however possible (see following note) that the reference here is to the start of Xerxes’ preparations rather than the departure of his expedition, which is marked out later in the sentence much more precisely (δεκα´τ -τει, ‘in the tenth year’). ἐψευσµένος δὲ τῆς ἐλπίδος, ἀτιµαζόµενος δὲ τῷ γεγενηµένῳ, ἀχθόµενος δὲ τῇ συµϕορᾷ, ὀργιζόµενος δὲ τοῖς αἰτίοις (‘he had been cheated of his hope, was humiliated by events, was oppressed by the disaster, and was angry at those responsible’). Probably a reference back to the failure of the Marathon campaign (though this entails some conﬂation of Xerxes’ hopes with those of his father), rather than a prospective reference to the failure of his own expedition. ἀπαθὴς δ’ ὢν κακῶν (‘he had not known a reverse’). Given Xerxes’ recent accession, it is hard to see what this is referring to (which is perhaps the point of the negative) unless possibly the reconquest of Egypt (Hdt. 7.7). διακοσίαις µὲν καὶ χιλίαις ναυσίν (‘his ﬂeet was 1,200 ships’). No more exaggerated than the ﬁgures in other texts. A ﬁgure of 1,207 is reported by Herodotos as the initial number of triremes (Hdt. 7.89.1), and apparently also by Aeschylus as the ﬁgure available at Salamis (Aeschyl. Persians, 341–343).41 τῆς δὲ πεζῆς στρατιᾶς (‘ground forces’), i.e. in contrast to the ﬂeet. Evidently a standard usage, despite the tendentious attempt in Lys. 14.5–6 to redeﬁne the term as denoting the infantry as opposed to the cavalry. ὥστε καὶ τὰ ἔθνη τὰ µετ’ αὐτοῦ ἀκολουθήσαντα πολὺ αν ἔργον εἴη καταλέξαι (‘that it would be a massive task to list even the nations which followed him’). There seems to be a close relationship here with the account given by Herodotos, who claims to be unable to provide a breakdown of the numbers of the individual contingents in the ground forces and can only give a global ﬁgure of 1,700,000 (Hdt. 7.60.1), but substitutes instead an extensive account of the national contingents 41 This assumes that his second ﬁgure of 207 is additional to rather than included within his ﬁrst ﬁgure of a thousand. Though identical, the two sets of ﬁgures are not compatible, because Herodotos’ account presupposes that his 1,207 had been reduced by signiﬁcant losses before Salamis (at least 400 off the Magnesian coast at Hdt. 7.190, and further losses to the squadron of 200 off the Hollows of Euboia at Hdt. 8.12–13). Note also that Herodotos’ 1,207 is the ﬁgure for triremes only: he gives a ﬁgure of 3,000 including transports at Hdt. 7.97.

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and their equipment (Hdt. 7.61–87). For the ﬂeet, by contrast, he provides a detailed breakdown of the contingents and their numbers (Hdt. 7.89–97). §28. ὃ δὲ µέγιστον σηµεῖον τοῦ πλήθους (‘and this is the clearest evidence of their number’). Herodotos too regards the size of Xerxes’ army as epistemologically problematic, but seeks to demonstrate it either by mathematical calculation (170 lots of 10,000 at the Doriskos review, Hdt. 7.60.2) or else by physical signs (drinking dry all but the greatest rivers: Hdt. 7.21.1, and cf. also 7.187.1). By contrast, Lysias argues from a reconstruction of Xerxes’ strategic objectives,42 though he promptly undermines the premise of this argument by attributing the decision to hybristic rather than practical motives at the start of §29. χιλίαις ναυσὶ διαβιβάσαι (‘to have transported . . . on a thousand ships’). Whereas Lysias’ numbers relate to a hypothetical ferry service, Herodotos by contrast reports two bridges of 360 and 314 ships respectively (Hdt. 7.36.1), leaving aside an abortive ﬁrst bridge (the destruction of which is reported at 7.34–35). ἡγούµενος τὴν διατριβὴν αὑτῷ πολλὴν ἔσεσθαι (‘because he thought it would waste too much of his time’). Herwerden (1897: 211–212) proposed to delete this clause as a grammarian’s gloss, on the grounds that a ferry service would have been quicker, and that the crucial point is the contempt reported in §29. I am not sure that this remedy works, because contempt would not in itself be evidence for the army’s size (see last note but one), though I do wonder whether there is a note of irony here: admittedly the building of a bridge is an advance investment, with the crossing itself taking only seven days and nights (Hdt. 7.56.1), but having a second bridge will hardly have provided signiﬁcant further saving of time for the expedition. §29. ὁδὸν µὲν διὰ τῆς θαλάττης ἐποιήσατο, πλοῦν δὲ διὰ τῆς γῆς ἠνάγκασε γενέσθαι (‘he constructed a path across the sea, and forced sailing to take place on land’), i.e. by bridging the Hellespont and by cutting the canal across Athos. A combination of paradox and the hybristic reversal of the natural order, for which cf. Aeschylus, Persians, 745–750; Isok. 4.89. ζεύξας µὲν τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον (‘yoking together the Hellespont’). As at Hdt. 7.34–36. διορύξας δὲ τὸν Ἄθω (‘cutting a trench through Athos’). As at Hdt. 7.22–25 (background, details, and Herodotos’ assessment), with references back to it at 7.37 (news of completion) and 7.122 (use). Note that Herodotos, unlike Lysias, does give a strategic reason for its construction (the wreck of a previous ﬂeet there, Hdt. 7.22.1), though he also emphasises the disproportionate scale of the preparation (3 years, Hdt. 7.22.1), and himself judges the real motive to have been ostentation (megalophrosune¯, Hdt. 7.24.1).

42

He seems to be assuming (though see next note but one) that the numbers were so great that a bridge would be more cost-effective than even an inﬁnitely resourced ferry service.

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§29–30

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τῶν µὲν ἀκόντων ὑπακουόντων, τῶν δὲ ἑκόντων προδιδόντων (‘as some obeyed reluctantly while others voluntarily turned traitor’). For the language of compulsion, compare the statement of the Thessalians in Hdt. 9.172.3 (οδαµα` γα`ρ α2δυναση α2να´γκη κρ σσων -φυ, ‘no necessity is stronger than inability to resist’). It is not clear whether Lysias is thinking here of the compliance of those in the north, who arguably had no choice, or of the behaviour of Athens’ Corinthian War allies: Argos refused to join the Greek confederacy which opposed Xerxes in 480–479, and Thebes (at least after the battle of Thermopylae) actively supported his invasion. §30. οὕτως διακειµένης τῆς Ἑλλάδος (‘this was the condition of Greece’). Compared to Herodotos’ narrative, there is very little detail here about Greek disunity and attempts to overcome it (the congresses and the appeals to Argos and to Gelon, Hdt. 7.145–163). αὐτοὶ µὲν εἰς τὰς ναῦς ἐµβάντες ἐπ’ Ἀρτεµίσιον ἐβοήθησαν (‘[the Athenians] themselves embarked on their ships and came to their help at Artemision’). Whereas Herodotos sees the choice of Artemision as being made collectively by the Greeks (Hdt. 7.175–177), Lysias represents it as an Athenian expedition sent to rescue them. This is part of a broader strategy of distortion, for which see Walters (1980: 5), who notes in particular Lysias’ suppression of the fact that the ﬂeet was commanded by the Spartan Eurybiades. Indeed, Herodotos’ ﬁgures for the separate contingents report the Athenians as initially supplying less than half the ﬂeet, though he subsequently notes the arrival of Athenian reinforcements which presumably take them above this proportion.43 It should however be noted that Thucydides makes the Athenian speakers at Sparta in 432 claim to have provided ‘nearly two-thirds’ of the Greek ﬂeet (Thuc. 1.74.1, in a speech where the equivalent phrase σβα´ντε τα` να' is used twice), while Plutarch (Them. 8.5) quotes elegiacs inscribed at Artemision which attribute the victory to Athens, so clearly the revisionism extended outside the genre of funeral speeches. Λακεδαιµόνιοι δὲ καὶ τῶν συµµάχων ἔνιοι εἰς Θερµοπύλας ἀπήντησαν (‘the Spartans and some of their allies marched out to Thermopylae’). Herodotos speaks of the 300 Spartiates being accompanied by 2,800 allies from the Peloponnese, plus 1,100 Boiotians, plus ‘all they had’ from Lokris and 1,000 from Phokis (Hdt. 7.202). This is the only funeral speech to mention Thermopylae (though it is discussed in some detail in a closely-related account at Isok. 4.90–92), but the narrative is carefully constructed so as to diminish the part played by the Spartans. By introducing Thermopylae as the Spartans’ contribution to the wareffort, Lysias distracts attention from their command at Artemision (see previous 43 Hdt. 8.1–2: the Athenians, together with the Plataians under their command, provide 127 triremes out of the initial 271; other Greeks provide 144, including 20 Athenian ships manned by Khalkis. (The ﬁgures on this occasion do add up to the correct number.) The subsequent addition of 53 Athenian reinforcements (Hdt. 8.14.1) presumably take these totals up to 180 and 144 respectively out of 324.

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note), which he represents as an Athenian military activity. In addition, whereas Herodotos attributes to a general Greek congress the decision to defend Thermopylae and Artemision together,44 and Isokrates presents the Spartans as marching to Thermopylae and the Athenians sailing to Artemision as an evidently conscious division of labour, Lysias’ introduction of Thermopylae only after Artemision gives strategic priority to the latter, with the Spartans playing only a supporting rôle. §31. γενοµένου δὲ τοῦ κινδύνου κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν χρόνον (‘in the battles that took place at the same time’), lit. ‘the danger occurring’: on the use of kindunos in this speech, see §3n. Ἀθηναῖοι µὲν ἐνίκων τῇ ναυµαχίᾳ (‘the Athenians were victorious by sea’). Not ‘the Greeks’. Herodotos regards the battle of Artemision as being at best inconclusive: thirty ships from the Persian ﬂeet are captured on the ﬁrst day (Hdt. 8.11.2); on the second day the Persian losses are heavier (Hdt. 8.16.3), but half of the Athenian ships are damaged and they are glad to withdraw (Hdt. 8.18). οὓς ϕυλάξειν ᾤοντο (‘those who they thought would protect them’).45 Presumably he has in mind the allied contingents from Central Greece, including the Phokians who were supposed to guard the mountain track (Hdt. 7.212.2; 7.217–218), rather than the treachery of Ephialtes the Malian (Hdt. 7.213).

§§32–43: The Historical Past: (a) The Persian Wars (iii) Salamis Given that funeral speeches exist to praise Athens, we would expect Salamis alongside Marathon to receive attention throughout the genre, but in fact this is not consistently the case. Admittedly Thucydides’ speech and the surviving portions of Gorgias’ contain no historical narrative whatever, but both Hypereides and Demosthenes are notably brief: the former announces that he will pass over all previous mythological or historical narrative so as to concentrate on the activities of Leosthenes (Hyp. Epit. §§4–5), while the latter summarises the Persian Wars in even less detail than he devotes to mythological topoi, noting merely and misleadingly and repeatedly that the Athenians twice repelled the forces of Persia on their own (monoi at Dem. 60.10 and 60.11). The only epitaphic text to cover these campaigns in similar detail to that of Lysias is Plato’s Menexenos, though of related texts Isokrates’ Pane¯gyrikos is also comparable. On the assumption (for which see pp. 154–162 above) that these two texts are in some sense responding to Lysias, the way in which each of them does so is interesting. Whereas Lysias presents as it were the ofﬁcial reading of Athenian history, praising both battles (cf. §26n) while devoting marginally more attention to Salamis as a naval and therefore democratic victory,46 Plato’s account is directly 44

Hdt. 7.175.1–2: the ﬁrst appearance of either location in his narrative of the war. The antecedent of the relative is an implied genitive of content (κενων vel sim.) depending on πλθου. 46 For the view that the men of Salamis were superior, albeit only in very guarded terms, cf. §40n. 45

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§31–32

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comparative and by implication anti-democratic: he explicitly awards Marathon the ﬁrst prize ahead of Salamis and Artemision (Menex. 240e6–241a2), devoting much more time to the former (Menex. 240a4–e6 compared to 241a2–c3), and painting the latter as a follow-up operation (Menex. 241a4–6). Isokrates is less ideologically charged, but shows independent touches: he focuses his account of Salamis on the claim that the Persians tried to buy off Athens before the battle, and that the abandonment of Athens was a patriotic rejection of this option, but refuses to discuss the details of the battle of Salamis itself.47 §32. ἐπορεύοντο ἐπὶ τήνδε τὴν πόλιν (‘they marched on our city’). Herodotos too makes revenge on Athens a signiﬁcant motive for Xerxes’ expedition, but Lysias presents a version of the expedition that is focused uniquely on Athens by omitting the annexation of Boiotia and the attack on Delphi (Hdt. 8.37–39). οἱ δ’ ἡµέτεροι πρόγονοι πυθόµενοι µὲν τὴν γεγενηµένην Λακεδαιµονίοις συµϕοράν (‘our ancestors heard about the disaster which had fallen on the Spartans’). Nothing is said here about the retreat of the Greek naval forces from Artemision, and we are left presumably to infer that this occurred only because they were let down by the Spartan failure at Thermopylae. Contrast Herodotos’ insistence that the two battles occurred on the same days (Hdt. 8.15.1), and that the decision to abandon Artemision was taken independently because of losses suffered particularly by the Athenians (Hdt. 8.18). ἀποροῦντες δὲ τοῖς περιεστηκόσι πράγµασιν (‘were in two minds about the situation that faced them’). The decision to abandon Athens is taken at this stage in Herodotos’ account without discussion or second thoughts (Hdt. 8.41), though he has previously reported a debate over the signiﬁcance of the wooden wall oracle (Hdt. 7.140–143, set apparently in 481), and we discover subsequently that there were some who refused to leave (Hdt. 8.51.2). Plutarch, on the other hand, places the signiﬁcant debate at this stage in his narrative, with the story of Athene’s snake abandoning the city being not just a report by the priestess (as at Hdt. 8.41.3) but a cunning trick deployed by Themistokles to persuade a reluctant de¯mos (Plut. Them. 10.1). εἰ µὲν κατὰ γῆν τοῖς βαρβάροις ἀπαντήσονται (‘if they met the barbarians on land’). Herodotos claims that the Athenians after Thermopylae had expected the full Peloponnesian army to be deployed in Boiotia rather than retreating to the Isthmus of Corinth (Hdt. 8.40.2; cf. more outspokenly Plut. Them. 9.3–4). By turning this into a proposal that the Athenians alone might have fought the Persians on land, Lysias conjures up memories of Marathon, which are reinforced by reference to the risk of Persian seaborne attack on their unguarded city.

47 Patriotic rejection: Isok. 4.93–96, an anachronism which could be derived from Lys. 2.33. Refusal to discuss details of battle: Isok. 4.97, the relationship of which to Lys. 2.34–40 is noted at p. 162 above.

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ἐπιπλεύσαντες χιλίαις ναυσὶν ἐρήµην τὴν πόλιν λήψονται (‘could sail with a thousand ships against an empty city and capture it’). This number is presumably a generalised version of the 1,200 reported earlier, rather than a reduced ﬁgure to allow for the scale of Persian losses reported by Herodotos, for which see §27n. Isokrates similarly reports the numbers at Salamis as 1,200 (Isok. 4.93 and 4.97), though he gives no earlier ﬁgure. ἁλώσονται (‘they would be vanquished’). Grammatically we would expect the subject here to be the same Athenians as were doing the embarking (thus Snell 1887.ii: 23), but it seems slightly odd to predicate disaster of the eventually successful plan. Stevens (1882 [1876]: 183) by contrast takes ‘they’ here in the sense of ‘Athens’, though it would seem odd in this case simply to repeat the capture of the city from the previous conditional. ἀµϕότερα δὲ οὐ δυνήσονται, ἀµύνασθαί τε καὶ ϕυλακὴν ἱκανὴν καταλιπεῖν (‘they would not be able both to defend themselves and to provide adequate protection’). Plutarch, by contrast, sees the abandonment of Athens as a necessary consequence of the retreat of the Greek ground forces to the Isthmus (Plut. Them. 9.5). I am not clear why Lamb (1930: 47) takes the subject here to be the Athenians left in the city, of whom no mention has yet been made. §33. δυοῖν δὲ προκειµένοιν (‘there were two proposals’). A different conundrum from the one in §32, which was about how to resist: here it is about whether to resist. ἢ µετὰ τῶν βαρβάρων γενοµένους καταδουλώσασθαι τοὺς Ἥλληνας (‘or they could take the side of the barbarians and enslave the Greeks’). This sounds like an allusion to the Persian attempt to buy Athenian support, which is reported in Hdt. 8.136 and 8.140–144. If so, it is anachronistic, because the offer was made by Alexander of Macedon acting on behalf of Mardonios in the winter or spring of 480/79, in the changed circumstances that followed the battle of Salamis. (This may be why it is not more explicit: for Isokrates’ less guarded version of events, see §§32–43n.) The equation of enslavement with support for Persia may be designed to justify Athenian imperial policy in the ﬁfth century, and possibly also (if we put the speech as late as 387) to criticise contemporary Sparta, since it implies that what is not medism cannot be enslavement.48 µετ’ ἀρετῆς καὶ πενίας καὶ ϕυγῆς ἐλευθερίαν (‘freedom accompanied by bravery and poverty and exile’). Uses of penia (poverty, in the sense of having to work for one’s living) in the corpus are commonly negative, as at Lys. 7.14 (hypothetical motive for crime) and at Lys. 22.13 (opponents’ alleged excuse for crime). In the rhetoric of contrast between Greece and Persia, however, it had traditionally 48 It is also a snide reference to Thebes, which is at ﬁrst sight surprising given that the Thebans were Athens’ allies in the Corinthian War. But what is said about Thebes in this speech is signiﬁcantly less favourable than what is said about Corinth (cf. §§48–53n).

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§33–35

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taken on more positive moral overtones, as at Hdt. 7.102.1 (Demaratos’ claim that Greece was brought up with penia), and at Hdt. 9.28.3 (Pausanias’ contrast between Persian luxury and the oïzuros way of life of the Greeks). ἵν’ ἐν µέρει πρὸς ἑκατέραν ἀλλὰ µὴ πρὸς ἀµϕοτέρας αµα τὰς δυνάµεις κινδυνεύσωσιν (‘so that they could run risks in turn against each of the dangers, rather than against both of them at once’). Paving the way for the reconstruction of the battle of Plataia as an Athenian victory at §46. §34. ὑπεκθέµενοι δὲ παῖδας καὶ γυναῖκας καὶ µητέρας εἰς Σαλαµῖνα (‘they sent their children and their wives over to Salamis’), i.e. out of immediate danger from the Persian ground forces, since Salamis is an island. According to Herodotos, the majority were sent to Troizen and only a minority to Aigina and to Salamis (Hdt. 8.41.1). Plutarch (Them. 10.5) takes a similar view, quoting a decree proposed by Nikagoras (in context evidently a Troizenian). The inscribed decree of Themistokles, on the other hand, speaks only of Salamis (Meiggs & Lewis, no. 23, line 10), but the text is in third-century lettering and its authenticity has been disputed. συνήθροιζον καὶ τὸ τῶν αλλων συµµάχων ναυτικόν (‘they assembled also the ﬂeet of the rest of the allies’). The distinction between Athens and the allies is reminiscent (perhaps deliberately) of the political structures of the period after 478, as if Athens’ ﬁfth-century empire is being seen as a logical and legitimate development of the Salamis campaign. ὃ τίς οὐκ αν ἰδὼν ἐϕοβήθη (‘〈was there anybody〉 who could have seen it without fear?’). The start of a carefully crafted account which focuses attention on issues of morale and battleﬁeld psychology. Particularly important in achieving this effect is the use of two sets of rhetorical questions, ﬁrst to direct our view inwards until we share the minds of those ﬁghting at §§34–35, and then outwards again towards the response of the gods at §§39–41. Embedded between these is a set of probabilistic statements at §§37–39, which serve to heighten the audience’s awareness that this is a psychological reconstruction. §35. ποίαν δὲ γνώµην εἶχον ἢ οἱ θεώµενοι τοὺς ἐν ταῖς ναυσὶν ἐκείναις (‘what was in the mind of people who looked on the men in those ships’). Unlike the rhetorical question in §34 (cf. previous note), which is phrased in indeﬁnite form as the hypothetical response of somebody who does not exist, the grammatical construction of §35 draws attention to the minds of those who were present. The dramatic setting is initially on shore, among Athenian non-combatants (cf. α7τν in the following phrase, which refers back to the onlookers’ concern about their own prospects of rescue). The second half of the question, however, shifts attention to the minds of those in the ships (ο! µ λλοντε ναυµαχσειν ‘〈what was in the minds of 〉 those who were about to ﬁght at sea’), where it remains. ὑπὲρ τῆς ϕιλότητος (‘for their friends’), lit. ‘for friendship’, or perhaps their commitment to their friends.

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ὑπὲρ τῶν αθλων τῶν ἐν Σαλαµῖνι (‘for the prize that was Salamis’). For the metaphor, see §10n, and compare especially §15n. §36. οἷς τοσοῦτον πανταχόθεν περιειστήκει πλῆθος πολεµίων (‘against them in every direction was drawn up such a mass of the enemy’). Alluding presumably to the story of Themistokles’ tricking the Persians into dividing their forces so as to blockade both ends of the channel between Salamis and the mainland (Hdt. 8.75–76). µεγίστην δὲ συµϕοράν, <α> ὑπὸ τῶν βαρβάρων εὐτυχησάντων τοὺς ὑπεκτεθέντας ἤλπιζον πείσεσθαι (‘the greatest calamity was what they expected the refugees to suffer if the barbarians should triumph’). For the sentiment, cf. e.g. Homer, Iliad, 6.450–455. §37. ἦ που διὰ τὴν ὑπάρχουσαν ἀπορίαν πολλάκις µὲν ἐδεξιώσαντο ἀλλήλους (‘in their perplexity, they evidently greeted each other frequently’). The start of a series of probabilistic statements (cf. §34n): not just : που (‘evidently’) here, but εκ*τω (‘perhaps’) in the second clause of §37, and : που again at the start of §39. Together, they serve to heighten the audience’s awareness that psychological reconstructions, however plausible, are inevitably speculative (cf. §39n). This type of interest in the reconstruction of battleﬁeld psychology is familiar from Thucydides, for whom it is a truism that those who participated in events need to be interviewed (Thuc. 1.22.2), and that memories are not always trustworthy, especially at moments of high drama (Thuc. 1.22.3; 7.44.1), but that it is precisely these psychological questions which are most important in understanding the battleﬁeld.49 εἰδότες µὲν τὰς σϕετέρας ναῦς ὀλίγας οὔσας, ὁρῶντες δὲ πολλὰς τὰς τῶν πολεµίων (‘they knew that their ships were few, they saw that the enemy’s were many’). Although the focus is still on the Athenian ﬁghters’ perceptions (cf. previous note), nevertheless what they saw and heard and knew throughout the rest of §§37–38 is represented as fact rather than hypothesis, presumably because it refers to their perception of external events rather than their response to the situation. ἐπιστάµενοι δὲ τὴν µὲν πόλιν ἠρηµωµένην, τὴν δὲ χώραν πορθουµένην καὶ µεστὴν τῶν βαρβάρων, ἱερῶν δὲ καιοµένων (‘they knew that Athens had been abandoned, that Attica was being laid waste and was full of the barbarians, that the sanctuaries were on ﬁre’). The ﬁring of sanctuaries is mentioned in Herodotos’ account of the capture of the Acropolis (Hdt. 8.52–54), but not in Lys. 2.34, where no details were given of the Persian sack of Athens. 49 As most notably in his account of the battle in the Great Harbour at Syracuse (cf. Thuc. 7.71.4), which may have inﬂuenced Lysias’ account here. Several detailed resemblances are explored at §38n παρακελευσµο' and §38n α2ντιπα´λου, and it should be noted that Thucydides’ account draws attention to the involvement of large numbers of ships in a small space (Thuc. 7.70.4), to the importance of the result for those involved (Thuc. 7.71.6–7), and to the reactions both of those ﬁghting and of those on shore (Thuc. 7.71.4–5, for which cf. §35n).

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§38. παρακελευσµοῦ δ’ ἀµϕοτέρων καὶ κραυγῆς τῶν διαϕθειροµένων (‘the cheering of both sides, and the noise of ships being destroyed’). At this stage in the Pane¯gyrikos, Isokrates breaks off his account of the diplomatic preliminaries with the following words: κα τοZ µ&ν θορ$βου τοZ ν τ πρα´γµατι γενοµ νου κα τα` κραυγα` κα τα` παρακελε$σει, αr κοινα` πα´ντων στ τν ναυµαχο$ντων, οκ οjδ’ 9 τι δε; λ γοντα διατρβειν (‘As for the uproar that took place during the battle, and the shouting and the cheering—things which are typical for all who take part in naval battles—I see no need to spend time describing them’, Isok. 4.97). Scholars who believe in the priority of the Pane¯gyrikos have tended to deny any relationship between these passages, on the grounds that it would be difﬁcult to explain Lys. 2.38 as a response to Isok. 4.97: thus Albini (1955: 453 n. 12), for instance, claims that Isokrates’ polemic is directed more at a certain style of description than speciﬁcally at Lysias. Buchner (1958: 106), however, is in my view correct to see a direct relationship, in view of the close coincidence of krauge¯ (‘noise’, ‘shouting’) and of the cognate terms parakeleusma and parakeleusis (‘cheering’), both of them fairly uncommon word-stems.50 ἀντιπάλου δὲ πολὺν χρόνον οὔσης τῆς ναυµαχίας δοκοῦντες τοτὲ µὲν νενικηκέναι καὶ σεσῶσθαι, τοτὲ δ’ ἡττῆσθαι καὶ ἀπολωλέναι (‘for a long time the battle was evenly matched, and now they seemed to be victorious and safe, now defeated and destroyed’). Once again (cf. this page, n. 50), Thucydides’ account of the battle in the Great Harbour, which even puts these sentiments into reported speech, provides a possible source here: Thuc. 7.71.4. §39. διὰ τὸν παρόντα ϕόβον (‘because of the presence of fear’). A return to the probabilistic approach found at the start of §37, with emphasis again on the presence of powerful emotion. ἦ που . . . πολλὰ µὲν ᾠήθησαν ἰδεῖν ὧν οὐκ εἶδον, πολλὰ δ’ ἀκοῦσαι ὧν οὐκ ἤκουσαν (‘they evidently thought that they saw many things which they did not see, and thought that they heard many things which they did not hear’). Presumably an allusion to the reports of the miraculous which are a feature of Herodotos’ battle narratives, though for him they are characteristic as much of Marathon as of Salamis.51 The probabilistic framework of the sentence allows Lysias to allude to such reports while distancing himself from them: this may be the inﬂuence of 50 Both words are found also in the account of the ﬁnal battle of the Great Harbour in Thuc. 7.70–71, and Pohlenz (1948: 72–73) puts forward the ingenious hypothesis that Isokrates’ criticism is aimed at Thucydides’ account, which he sees not implausibly as the ultimate source of Lys. 2.38. However, parakeleuseis at Thuc. 7.70.7 and krauge¯i at Thuc. 7.71.5 are much more widely separated than are the words in Lys. 2.38 and Isok. 4.97, and his hypothesis would still entail assuming that the author of Lys. 2 had used the Pane¯gyrikos but without seeing the point of 4.97. 51 Pheidippides’ meeting with Pan in the run-up to Marathon (Hdt. 6.106.1); Epizelos’ blindness during the battle (Hdt. 6.117.2). In his account of Salamis, a couple of apparitions take place at the start of the battle (the woman calling on the Greeks not to retreat at 8.84.2, the unknown boat whose crew call similarly on Adeimantos the Corinthian at 8.94.2–3), but the most striking example is a few days earlier (Demaratos, Dikaios and the invisible procession, at 8.65).

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Thucydides and late-ﬁfth-century rationalism, or an attempt to make the rest of his account seem more reliable. ποῖαι δ’ οὐχ ἱκετεῖαι θεῶν ἐγένοντο ἢ θυσιῶν ἀναµνήσεις (‘what prayers there were to the gods, and how they reminded them of their sacriﬁces’). There is relatively little of this in Herodotos’ account, which has the Greeks before the battle agreeing to pray to the gods and to call for help on the heroes Aiax and Telamon, but no more (Hdt. 8.64.2). Here the passage serves to introduce the second set of rhetorical questions (cf. §34n), which shift attention outwards again from the participants but this time to the gods. ἔλεός τε παίδων καὶ γυναικῶν πόθος οἶκτός τε πατέρων καὶ µητέρων (‘what cries of pity for children, and cries of longing for women, and cries of mourning for fathers and mothers’). Formally the genitives could denote ‘cries for pity from/on the part of children’, etc., but the dramatic setting throughout this section of the narrative is within the ships rather than on shore. §40. τίς οὐκ αν θεῶν ἠλέησεν αὐτούς (‘which of the gods would not have pitied them’). What could have been an awkward transition has been smoothed by the rhetorical question at §39n. For an extended discussion of Dover’s (1974: 156) dictum that ‘the Greeks, on the other hand [i.e. unlike Christian theology], did not expect the gods to be merciful’, see Konstan (2001: 105–112), who notes in particular that Homer’s gods are generally more capable of feeling pity than those of tragedy, not least because of their invulnerability to human misfortune and to human suffering (p. 112); and he sums up the general consensus of Classical thought by noting that divine pity, though occasionally felt by the gods, is nevertheless ‘not a quality on which human beings can safely rely’ (p. 110). Parker (1997) emphasises that gods in oratory, and in his view in comedy also, tend to be represented as actively benevolent towards the city collectively, whereas the frequent ‘cruelty’ of gods in tragedy is normally directed against individuals or households. ἦ πολὺ πλεῖστον ἐκεῖνοι κατὰ τὴν ἀρετὴν ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων διήνεγκαν καὶ ἐν τοῖς βουλεύµασι καὶ ἐν τοῖς τοῦ πολέµου κινδύνοις (‘in terms of their merits, they vastly exceeded all other men, both in their counsels and in the perils of war’). This could simply mean that they exceeded their contemporaries, but it sounds as if Lysias is also placing them ahead of the victors of Marathon (contrast the explicit judgment of Plato, reported at §§32–43n), though he may be seeking to distance himself from any adverse verdict on Marathon by drawing attention to the uniqueness of their having abandoned the city. τὰς δ’ αὑτῶν ψυχὰς ὀλίγας οὔσας (‘their own courage (few as they were)’). Formally however it is the psukhai which are described as being few: an interesting slippage between psukhe¯ as courage and psukhe¯ as the life of an individual. §41. ἐπέδειξαν δὲ πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις, νικήσαντες τῇ ναυµαχίᾳ (‘victorious in the sea-battle, they showed everybody’). Once again (cf. §30 and §43), this is

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§41–43

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represented as an Athenian victory, this time with no mention of the Greek confederacy. §42. πλεῖστα δὲ καὶ κάλλιστα ἐκεῖνοι ὑπὲρ τῆς τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐλευθερίας συνεβάλοντο (‘these men achieved many glorious deeds for the freedom of Greece’). A summary of Salamis, which also picks up two of the themes of the mythological and historical narratives: that the Athenians had acted in isolation (implied by the suppression of the Greek confederacy, cf. previous note), and out of altruism (for which see §14n and §20n). στρατηγὸν µὲν Θεµιστοκλέα (‘Themistokles was their General’). On the rarity of named Athenians in epitaphioi, see p. 150 above: apart from the repeated references to Leosthenes in Hypereides’ speech, the only examples within the genre are found here and at §52n. There is a good discussion particularly of Themistokles’ appearance here by Avezzù (1988), who suggests that he is the key to Athens’ adoption of a democratic imperialist policy with which our speech is evidently aligning itself. (Contrast Plato’s judgment of Marathon ahead of Salamis, cited at §§32–43n). ἱκανώτατον εἰπεῖν καὶ γνῶναι καὶ πρᾶξαι (‘a man best prepared in speech and thought and action’). Herodotos (8.123–124), reports his being voted runner-up by most or all of the other Greek generals in the abortive election for ariste¯ia (award for valour), and receiving a prize for sophie¯ (wisdom) and dexiote¯s (cleverness) from the Spartans, evidently as compensation for their having given their own ariste¯ia to Eurybiades. Closer to the wording of the present passage, however, is Thucydides’ character-sketch at 1.138.3, which contains within a couple of lines the phrases κρα´τιστο γν=µων (‘of the greatest ability in respect of his gno¯mai’ [intelligent judgment, here used of situations which need immediate decision]) and κρ;ναι !καν (praising his ability ‘to judge what was appropriate’ in situations outside his expertise: the connotations are different but the lexical root is the same). ναῦς δὲ πλείους τῶν αλλων συµµάχων, ανδρας δ’ ἐµπειροτάτους (‘their ships outnumbered those of their allies put together, and their men were the most skilled’). Herodotos’ ﬁgures for the Greek ships at Salamis suggest that out of a total of 380 including two last-minute deserters (8.82), the Athenians supplied 180, though it has often been noted that the ﬁgures in his detailed breakdown add up only to 366 rather than 378 as he claims (8.42–48). Given that the Athenians had only recently enlarged their ﬂeet, the claim that they were the most skilled presumably reﬂects their subsequent self-image rather than the realities of the time. §43. ὥστε δικαίως µὲν ἀναµϕισβήτητα τἀριστεῖα τῆς ναυµαχίας ἔλαβον παρὰ τῆς Ἑλλάδος (‘it was only fair that they received without dispute from the Greeks the prize of victory’). According to Herodotos, as we saw at §42n, the election for the individual ariste¯ia ended abortively because everybody voted for himself ﬁrst, even though Themistokles received a large number of second votes. He says nothing about any ofﬁcial award for polis contingents, though he does claim that

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it was universally agreed that the best ﬁghting came from the Aiginetans followed by the Athenians (8.93). On prizes for victory, cf. §10n and §35n. γνησίαν δὲ καὶ αὐτόχθονα . . . τὴν αὑτῶν ἀρετήν (‘their own bravery—a thing both home-bred and of legitimate birth’). An odd metaphor, but the legalistic connotations of gne¯sios (used to denote legitimate citizen offspring) serve to pick up the link between autochthony and justice that was introduced at §§17–19n.

§§44–47: The Historical Past: (a) The Persian Wars (iv) The Plataia Campaign The key theme of this passage is cowardice on the part of other Greeks, especially the Peloponnesians. There is none of the discussion of Athenian morale that characterised particularly the Salamis narrative, but instead the focus is on persuading others to stand and ﬁght. Lysias’ version of events contains a number of details paralleled in and probably derived from Herodotos, but with several twists, the effect of which is to present in a bad light either the Peloponnesians in general (see §44n) or speciﬁcally Sparta’s allies apart from the Tegeans (see §46n). An oddly positive intrusion is the praise given to the Plataians, which is not paralleled in Herodotos, and which may be displacement of what should have been said about them at Marathon (see §46n). §44. ἐν µὲν οὖν τῇ ναυµαχίᾳ τοιούτους αὑτοὺς παρασχόντες (‘this, then, was how they performed in the sea-battle’). A Herodotean summary of the preceding narrative. It is interesting that Artemision has faded from the attention to such an extent that there is now only one sea-battle, although admittedly Salamis has been the subject of attention since §34. τῶν κινδύνων µετασχόντες τῇ ἰδίᾳ ἀρετῇ κοινὴν τὴν ἐλευθερίαν καὶ τοῖς αλλοις ἐκτήσαντο (‘by sharing in the dangers, they obtained a common freedom for others also by means of their own bravery’). Once again, the theme of altruism. ὕστερον δὲ Πελοποννησίων διατειχιζόντων τὸν Ἰσθµόν (‘later on, the Peloponnesians were fortifying the Isthmus’). For the chronological marker, cf. §27n. The function of fortifying the Isthmus of Corinth was to prevent Persian ground forces from entering the Peloponnese. An argument at this stage over the completion of the wall is mentioned by Herodotos, who certainly criticises the Spartans for being selﬁshly defensive and represents them as having to be persuaded to undertake the Plataia campaign (9.7–11). For him, however, the construction of the Isthmus wall had begun in the aftermath of the retreat from Artemision (8.40), and he mentions it also in the atmosphere of near-panic in the run-up to Salamis (8.71). By suppressing these earlier allusions, Lysias attributes to the Spartans motives not just of selﬁshness but also of cowardice, since the wall becomes their response not to the threat of defeat but to the fact of victory.52 52 Isok. 4.93 talks about selﬁshness in equally explicit anti-Spartan tones, but unlike Lysias he places the building of the wall before rather than after Salamis: Nouhaud (1982: 161) suggests that this is done not for reasons of truthfulness but to support Isokrates’ own version of imperial propaganda.

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§45. ὀργισθέντες Ἀθηναῖοι συνεβούλευον αὐτοῖς (‘the Athenians, however, angrily warned them’). Isokrates too mentions anger in his equivalent narrative, though his point relates to action not to words and is framed in negative terms: that despite their anger at the lack of support from the Greeks, the Athenians nevertheless refused to make terms with the Persians (οδ’, @ργισθ ντε το; mΕλλησιν 9τι προυδ*θησαν. . ., Isok. 4.94). It is tempting, with Buchner (1958: 105 n. 4), to read this as a response to Lys. 2.45. εἰ ταύτην τὴν γνώµην ἕξουσι, περὶ απασαν τὴν Πελοπόννησον τεῖχος περιβαλεῖν (‘that if they held to this plan they would have to build a wall round the entire Peloponnese’). Rather more colourfully phrased than the equivalent advice which Herodotos attributes to Khileus of Tegea: that an Athenian alliance with Persia would leave the gates wide open however strong the Isthmus wall (Hdt. 9.9.2). εἰ γὰρ αὐτοὶ ὑπὸ <τῶν> Ἑλλήνων προδιδόµενοι µετὰ τῶν βαρβάρων ἔσονται (‘if they themselves were betrayed by the Greeks and so took the side of the barbarians’). Herodotos’ version of the Athenian plea to Sparta applies the hypothetical language of betrayal to both sides (terrible for us to prodounai even though ourselves prodidomenoi, Hdt. 9.7a.2). For Lysias, by contrast, the possibility of Athenian betrayal has become the bland ‘being with’ the barbarians. οὔτ’ ἐκείνοις δεήσειν χιλίων νεῶν (‘the latter would not be short of a thousand ships’). In the sense of having lost the functioning capacity of their pre-Salamis ﬂeet, which Lysias consistently regards as being of this size (cf. §28n and §32n). §46. κακῶς βουλεύεσθαι (‘were in error in their plans’). Reading bouleuomai as middle, rather than passive (which would mean ‘were being badly advised’), since there does not seem to be any hint of an attack on their advisers. Ἀθηναίους δὲ δίκαιά τε λέγειν καὶ τὰ βέλτιστα αὐτοῖς παραινεῖν (‘whereas what the Athenians were saying was just, and the advice they were offering them was the best’). The language of morality as well as pragmatism. ἐβοήθησαν εἰς Πλαταιάς (‘they went to help at Plataia’). The verb boe¯theo¯ seems initially a rather disparaging description of Sparta’s rôle, given that they provided the main contingent and the commander, who is regarded by Herodotos as having gained the greatest glory (Hdt. 9.64.1). However, it is used also of the Athenians in the run-up to Artemision at §30, where we are clearly intended to see them as the dominant contingent and indeed the victors in the battle (cf. §31n). For a land-battle, apantao¯ might seem more suitable (used e.g. of the Athenians at Marathon in §24, and of the Spartans at Thermopylae in §30),53 but it may be that this verb is more suitable when one contingent dominates the attention to the exclusion of any possible supporters: the Plataians at Marathon are not mentioned in the speech, and the Spartans’ allies at Thermopylae only in

53

Also of the Athenians under Myronides in §52, though that seems less relevant here.

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passing. Here, on the other hand, the presence of allies (and their cowardice: see following note) is fundamental to the narrative. ἀποδράντων δὲ ὑπὸ νύκτα (‘deserted their ranks under cover of night’). Whereas for Herodotos the fact that only a limited number of allied contingents actually came to grips with the enemy at the battle of Plataia is the result of a combination of confused manoeuvring (9.47 and esp. 9.53–57) and sustained enemy cavalry attacks (9.52),54 for Lysias it is the product of desertion predicated on cowardice. Λακεδαιµόνιοι µὲν καὶ Τεγεᾶται τοὺς βαρβάρους ἐτρέψαντο (‘the Spartans and the people of Tegea repelled the barbarians’). For the rôle of the Tegeans alongside the Spartans, see e.g. Hdt. 9.56.1. Ἀθηναῖοι δὲ καὶ Πλαταιεῖς (‘the Athenians and Plataians’). Herodotos mentions a small Plataian contingent of 600 in the allied army (Hdt. 9.28.6), and states that they were initially drawn up alongside the Athenians (Hdt. 9.31.5), but he says nothing about them at any stage in his narrative of the battle, and they are not among the contingents that he lists as having distinguished themselves in battle (Tegeans, Athenians, and especially Spartans, Hdt. 9.71.1). It is tempting to see their presence here as intended to forestall any surprise at their omission from the account of Marathon, though this would presuppose an audience capable of conﬂating the two battles. πάντας τοὺς Ἥλληνας ἐνίκων µαχόµενοι τοὺς ἀπογνόντας τῆς ἐλευθερίας καὶ ὑποµείναντας τὴν δουλείαν (‘fought and overcame all those Greeks who had despaired of freedom and had submitted to slavery’). According to Herodotos (Hdt. 9.67), the Boiotians were the only Greek contingent to have fought on the Persian side with any distinction. §47. ἐν ἐκείνῃ δὲ τῇ ἡµέρᾳ (‘on that day’). The chronological marker here serves to sum up the preceding narrative: this is perceived as the ﬁnal response to Persian invasion, rather than the point at which the Greeks go on the offensive. τοῖς προτέροις κινδύνοις (‘to their previous perils’). The ﬁrst of three references in §47 to kindunos (usually ‘risk’) and its cognates: on the use of the term throughout the speech, see §3n. βέβαιον µὲν τὴν ἐλευθερίαν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ κατηργάσαντο (‘they established freedom securely for Europe’). Ziolkowski (1993: 15) observes that the mention of Europe serves to exaggerate the signiﬁcance of the victory. But it also has a restrictive effect, because it distracts attention from the subsequent liberation of the Greeks of Asia Minor (for the small part played by this theme in the speech, see §§54–57n). καὶ µόνοι καὶ µεθ’ ἑτέρων, καὶ πεζοµαχοῦντες καὶ ναυµαχοῦντες, καὶ πρὸς <τοὺς> βαρβάρους καὶ πρὸς τοὺς Ἥλληνας (‘both alone and with assistance, ﬁghting both 54

Cf. also Hdt. 9.69.1, which seems to represent it more as a retreat against orders than as a rout.

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on foot and on board ship, against both barbarians and Greeks’). There is a close parallel in Isok. 7.75 (κα µ*νοι κα µετα` Πελοποννησων, κα πεζοµαχο'ντε κα

ναυµαχο'ντε), though the latter speaks of ﬁghting not simply ‘with assistance’ but more speciﬁcally ‘alongside the Peloponnesians’. Lysias’ ﬁrst clause here presumably relates to his version of Marathon, and the last clause to the Boiotians and others at Plataia. καὶ πρὸς οὓς ἐπολέµουν (‘and those against whom they were ﬁghting’). I am not aware of independent evidence for this, at least on any formal level. ἡγεµόνες γενέσθαι τῆς Ἑλλάδος (‘to become leaders of Greece’). The wording could formally denote a hegemony shared with Sparta rather than one uniquely vested in Athens. There is no mention in the speech, incidentally, of Thucydides’ claim that the Athenian naval confederacy came about because of the refusal of the would-be allies to accept the leadership of Pausanias (Thuc. 1.95).

§§48–53: The Historical Past: (b) Pente¯kontaëtia and Peloponnesian War (i) The Geraneia Campaign The primary function of the historical narrative in the funeral speeches is to justify Athenian imperialism in terms of Athens’ leadership in the resistance against Persia, so it is not surprising that the narrative of the rest of the ﬁfth century should be less detailed, even though this period saw the growth and development of Athens’ empire.55 What is perhaps more surprising is the selection of episodes: Lysias focuses almost entirely (§§49–53) on the unsuccessful Corinthian attempt in c.458 to distract Athenian attention away from the siege of Aigina by seizing Geraneia, a mountain on the borders of Megara; Thucydides’ summary of the pente¯kontaëtia, by contrast, devotes relatively minor attention (at Thuc. 1.105–106) to the Geraneia campaign. The relationship between these two texts is discussed by Thomas (1989: 202 and 227–229), who notes that this is one of only two passages in the Orators where clear dependence on Thucydides can be identiﬁed;56 and also by Walters (1981), who rightly notes that Lysias has telescoped into one what in Thucydides are two battles, the ﬁrst of which was a draw while the second resulted in heavy Corinthian casualties, though I am more inclined to see Lysias’ account here as being based on Thucydides directly rather than (as Walters believes) indirectly.57 55 Perhaps indeed ‘precisely because’, rather than ‘even though’: some of the details of the empire were apt to be embarrassing. 56 The other being the Plataian narrative in Dem. 59.94–106, on which see Trevett (1995: 411–415), and Kapparis (1999: 375–388). 57 Walters bases this suggestion on Diodoros’ notorious intrusion of a third battle into his account of Tanagra and Oinophyta (Diod.Sic. 11.82–84): he argues that Diodoros or his source Ephoros has been misled by a lost text (probably a funeral speech) who has telescoped two genuine battles into one invented one, and suggests that this source may have done the same for Geraneia. Despite the fact that Myronides is mentioned in both sets of campaigns, this seems a rather tenuous chain of hypotheses; and although there is a lot in Lysias’ account that is not in Thucydides’, nevertheless there are enough verbal parallels to suggest direct dependence (see §48nn ναυµαχα and /βδοµκοντα; §49n; §52n).

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One reason for the selection of the Geraneia campaign, at the expense of for instance that of Eurymedon, is presumably that it allows Lysias the opportunity to develop further the theme of heroic isolation, by emphasising (even more than does Thucydides) Athens’ refusal to recall its troops from campaign, and the use of reserve forces made up of those above and below normal military age. It is the sort of episode that catches the imagination, which may help account for the special mention of Myronides at §52. But there may also be at least a covert anti-Corinthian twist here, because the Geraneia narrative represents the Corinthians and their allies as militarily weak enough to be defeated even by the Athenian reserve. How we should interpret this is less clear, given that the Corinthians were Athens’ allies in the Corinthian War and that the speech is formally in praise of those who died assisting them. Albini (1955: 318) regards any criticism of Corinth as tactless, and its presence here as evidence for inauthenticity. This argument becomes less persuasive if the speech was not written to be delivered, and particularly if (as was suggested at p. 164 above) it may not have been completed until the King’s Peace in 387, which dissolved the Corinthian alliance. Taken overall, the speech certainly does not portray Corinth in a particularly bad light: we have already seen that they do not appear in any of the epitaphic myths, unlike Argos and particularly Thebes, who were the other partners in the Quadripartite Alliance; there is no attempt (as there is for instance in Herodotos) to portray them as cowards at the battle of Salamis; and they are not blamed for provoking either the First or the Great Peloponnesian War. But they are available to be patronised. §48. Ἑλληνικοῦ πολέµου καταστάντος (‘war broke out between Greek cities’). The so-called First Peloponnesian War of c.460–446 bc. (Lit. ‘a Greek war’: the contrast is presumably with a ‘barbarian war’, though I am not aware of any source which uses that phrase.) διὰ ζῆλον τῶν γεγενηµένων καὶ ϕθόνον τῶν πεπραγµένων (‘because of rivalry over what had happened and envy over what had been achieved’). Achieved presumably by the Athenians. It is unclear whether this refers to the breakdown of relations during the 460s, or his own narrative of the Persian War. µικρῶν δ’ ἐγκληµάτων ἕκαστοι δεόµενοι (‘each side required small grievances’), i.e. were ready for war with little need for justiﬁcation, but it is not clear whether these grievances are small in number or small in scale. Enkle¯ma (grievance, cause of complaint) is a word found repeatedly in Thucydides’ account of the outbreak of the main Peloponnesian War (especially in the speeches of the participants: Thuc. 1.34.1; 1.40.1; 1.42.3). ναυµαχίας Ἀθηναίοις πρὸς Αἰγινήτας καὶ τοὺς ἐκείνων συµµάχους γενοµένης (‘the Athenians fought a sea-battle against the Aiginetans and their allies’), lit. ‘a sea-battle took place’. There are close verbal similarities with Thuc. 1.105.2 (ναυµαχα γγνεται π’ Αγνb µεγα´λη >θηναων κα Αγινητν, κα ο! ξ$µµαχοι

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§48–49

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/κατ ροι παρ8σαν, ‘a major sea-battle took place off Aigina between the Athenians and the Aiginetans, and the allies of both sides were present’), but also two signiﬁcant differences, in that Lysias suppresses the Athenians’ allies and fails to describe the battle as ‘major’: the ﬁrst of these changes reinforces the theme of isolation, whereas the second serves to avoid detracting attention from his primary interest in the Geraneia campaign. ἑβδοµήκοντα τριήρεις αὐτῶν ἐλάµβανον (‘captured seventy of their triremes’). Thucydides too mentions this ﬁgure (να' /βδοµκοντα λαβ*ντε, Thuc. 1.105.2), but links the victory more closely to the siege of Aigina, which is mentioned here as a separate event in §49. §49. πολιορκούντων δὲ κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν χρόνον Αἴγυπτόν τε καὶ Αἴγιναν (‘they were blockading Egypt and Aigina at the same time’). Thucydides narrates the sending of the Egyptian Expedition at 1.104, and its collapse at 1.109,58 but he alludes also to its chronological overlap with the Geraneia campaign at 1.105.3, where he claims that the Corinthians attacked Geraneia ‘thinking that the Athenians would be unable to assist the Megarians while they had major armies abroad in Aigina and in Egypt; if they did send assistance, they would have to withdraw from Aigina’ (νοµζοντε α2δυνα´του -σεσθαι >θηναου βοηθε;ν το; Μεγαρε'σιν -ν τε Αγνb α2πο$ση στρατα πολλ8 κα ν Αγ$πτ. eν δ& κα

βοηθσιν, α2π’ Αγνη α2ναστσεσθαι ατο$). For the siege of Aigina, see previous note. καὶ τῆς ἡλικίας ἀπούσης ἔν τε ταῖς ναυσὶ καὶ ἐν τῷ πεζῷ στρατεύµατι (‘while the ﬂower of their young men were absent in the ships and the ground forces’). The nearest Thucydides gets to this is at 1.105.3 (quoted above), where he represents it as an idea in the minds of the Corinthians, and without referring speciﬁcally to the young men. Κορίνθιοι καὶ οἱ ἐκείνων σύµµαχοι (‘the Corinthians and their allies’). Cf. Thuc. 1.105.3, which also speaks of the Corinthians and their allies (κατ βησεν Κορνθιοι µετα` τν ξυµµα´χων), though Lysias has suppressed Thucydides’ immediately previous reference to the Peloponnesians’ intervention in Aigina. ἡγούµενοι ἢ εἰς ἔρηµον τὴν χώραν ἐµβαλεῖν ἢ ἐξ Αἰγίνης αξειν τὸ στρατόπεδον (‘in the belief that they would either have an empty territory to invade or else force the expedition to return from Aigina’). For the sentiment, cf. Thuc. 1.105.3 (quoted above). It is not clear whether Lysias’ phrase ‘empty territory’ refers to the Megarid (which for Thucydides seems to be the Corinthians’ sole object) or to Attica (which seems to be envisaged as under threat at §52n). ἐξελθόντες πανδηµεὶ Γεράνειαν κατέλαβον (‘came out in force and attacked Geraneia’). The location and military signiﬁcance of Geraneia is discussed by Gomme (Gomme, Andrewes & Dover 1945–81.i: 308), who notes that the attack 58

The expedition is conventionally dated c.460–c.454.

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threatened communication between Megara itself and Pegai on the Corinthian Gulf, both at that stage under Athenian control (cf. Thuc. 1.103.4). Lysias says nothing about Athens’ having had a military presence in the Megarid, presumably so as to distract attention from its rôle as aggressor. §50. Ἀθηναῖοι δὲ τῶν µὲν ἀπόντων, τῶν δ’ ἐγγὺς ὄντων, οὐδένα ἐτόλµησαν µεταπέµψασθαι (‘the Athenians had the courage not to recall a single soldier, either of those who were far off or of those who were close at hand’), i.e. from Egypt and from Aigina respectively. Given the distance and the timing, the former possibility will have been hypothetical, but the latter as we have seen was one of the Corinthians’ aims. ταῖς δ’ αὑτῶν ψυχαῖς πιστεύσαντες καὶ τῶν ἐπιόντων καταϕρονήσαντες (‘trusted in their own bravery and held their attackers in contempt’). There is nothing of this in Thucydides. οἱ γεραίτεροι καὶ οἱ τῆς ἡλικίας ἐντὸς γεγονότες (‘the older men, and those who were still under age’). Thucydides’ phrasing is much less ﬂorid, and unlike Lysias he moves immediately to the leadership of the expedition and its destination (οs τε πρεσβ$τατοι κα ο! νε=τατοι α2φικνο'νται τα` Μ γαρα Μυρωνδου στρατηγο'ντο ‘the oldest and the youngest men left for Megara under the command of Myronides as General’, Thuc. 1.105.4). The remainder of §50 and the whole of §51 has no parallel in Thucydides’ account. ἠξίουν αὐτοὶ µόνοι τὸν κίνδυνον ποιήσασθαι (‘they decided to face the danger on their own’). Once again, the themes of danger (cf. §3n) and of isolation (cf. §20n), in an addition to Thucydides’ account. §51. καὶ οἱ µὲν αὐτοὶ πολλαχοῦ ἀγαθοὶ γεγενηµένοι, οἱ δ’ ἐκείνους µιµούµενοι (‘the ﬁrst group had often displayed their bravery, and the others were copying them’). Shifting the ground from innate characteristics (at the end of §50) to upbringing, which plays a special rôle in epitaphioi (cf. §3n, §53n, and §69n). §52. Μυρωνίδου στρατηγοῦντος (‘under the leadership of Myronides as General’). Precisely the same phrase is found in Thuc. 1.105.4. Grammatically this is hardly surprising, since this is the obvious way to identify a commander, but to mention any individual Athenian in this genre is extremely unusual, and this is by far the less explicable of the two exceptions in this speech. (The other is Themistokles at §42, but he is not only much more famous but also—as we saw— important for ideological reasons.) I have no good explanation for the mention of Myronides (the comic poets appear to have regarded him as a representative of the good old days, but not uniquely so), unless he has possibly crept in as a result of Lysias’ close use of Thucydides’ narrative in this part of the speech. ἀπαντήσαντες αὐτοὶ εἰς τὴν Μεγαρικήν (‘they marched out to the Megarid’). Or perhaps ‘they themselves’. Thucydides says ‘to Megara’ ( τα` Μ γαρα, Thuc. 1.105.4).

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§53–53

253

ἐνίκων µαχόµενοι απασαν τὴν δύναµιν τὴν ἐκείνων (‘they defeated in battle the full force of their enemies’). For the telescoping of two battles into one, see §§48–53n. τοὺς εἰς τὴν σϕετέραν ἐµβαλεῖν ἀξιώσαντας (‘those who thought it right to invade their own territory’). Grammatically this can only mean the territory of the Athenians. This could perhaps be justiﬁed by arguing that the Corinthians might have had an invasion of Attica in mind as a next step, or that the term can be used of territory which has become part of Athens’ sphere of inﬂuence, but both of these seem far-fetched, and they are to some extent undermined by the reference in the other half of this clause to confronting them in a ‘foreign’ land (allotrian). The aim is clearly to represent Myronides’ expedition as acting in self-defence. §53. τρόπαιον δὲ στήσαντες καλλίστου µὲν αὐτοῖς ἔργου, αἰσχίστου δὲ τοῖς πολεµίοις (‘setting up a trophy in memory of deeds which were highly glorious for them but deeply shameful for their opponents’). According to Thucydides, it was the setting-up of the Athenian trophy after the drawn battle of 1.105.5 which led the Corinthians, unable to bear the disparaging comments of the older men (presbuteroi) back at Corinth, to suffer much heavier losses in the course of their attempt to put up their own rival trophy. Given that the literary occasion of the present speech relates to Athenians assisting the Corinthians, the choice of anecdote is perhaps pointed. οἱ µὲν οὐκέτι τοῖς σώµασιν, οἱ δ’ οὔπω δυνάµενοι (‘some of them were no longer strong physically, others were not yet strong’). Once again, there is nothing of this in Thucydides. It serves to reiterate the theme of upbringing, which has already been touched on at §50, but does so with an emphasis which is particularly appropriate to an occasion at which the assumed audience is the old and the young (and the women). ταῖς δὲ ψυχαῖς ἀµϕότεροι κρείττους γενόµενοι (‘both groups showed themselves superior in courage’). Superior to the occasion, or to the Corinthians, or to how non-Athenians might have been expected to behave (or a combination). οἱ µὲν πάλιν ἐπαιδεύοντο, οἱ δὲ περὶ τῶν λοιπῶν ἐβουλεύοντο (‘the one group resumed their education, the other their counsel for the future’). Or perhaps ‘for the time they had left’. The emphasis on upbringing is more common in this genre (cf. above) than the giving of counsel, but the latter helps balance the sentence. The sense of returning to private life, reminiscent of Cincinnatus in Roman national mythology, is a detail not found in Thucydides.

§§54–57: The Historical Past: (b) Pente¯kontaëtia and Peloponnesian War (ii) The Athenian Empire Given what was said at §§48–53n about the rôle of funeral speeches in justifying imperialism, it is striking that what we are offered here is not a chronological account of the seventy years of Athenian empire, but instead a generalising summary which abandons narrative entirely, but in such a way as to lead into a ﬁnal

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section of narrative beginning at §58. A number of the themes found particularly in §54 hark back to what is said at the start of the speech, to an extent which probably justiﬁes us in describing this as a second prologue. §54. καθ’ ἕκαστον µὲν οὖν οὐ ῥᾴδιον τὰ ὑπὸ πολλῶν κινδυνευθέντα ὑϕ’ ἑνὸς ῥηθῆναι (‘it would not be easy for one man to recount individually the dangers faced by so many’). Rather a ﬂat contrast, but the emphasis on the responsibility laid individually on the orator is reminiscent of §1, and the language of danger recalls §3. τὰ ἐν απαντι τῷ χρόνῳ πραχθέντα ἐν µιᾷ ἡµέρᾳ δηλωθῆναι (‘nor could the things achieved in all this time be described in a single day’). For the motif of insufﬁcient time, cf. §1. τῶν ἐνθάδε κειµένων ἀνδρῶν (‘of the men who lie here’). Another reminiscence of §1. The choice of verb (rather than for instance ‘those who are being buried’, for which see §67) serves to distract attention from the process of burial towards the rôle of the Kerameikos as public memorial. This allows an assimilation of this year’s dead to their glorious predecessors, and implies a continuity both of heroism and also of policy. The increasingly frequent uses of the phrase in the following narrative, however, may suggest that it is particularly the recent dead who are being assimilated together,59 reﬂecting a narrative structure in which history stops in the early pente¯kontaëtia, and restarts only at the Civil War. §55. µετὰ πλείστων γὰρ πόνων καὶ ϕανερωτάτων ἀγώνων καὶ καλλίστων κινδύνων (‘by performing many labours, by competing in public contests, and by risking glorious perils’). Ago¯n (‘contest’), which I take to refer to ﬁghting, is an odd choice of word here, though ponos (‘labour’) perhaps recalls the description of Herakles as public benefactor at §16. For the use of kindunos in this speech, see §3n. ἐλευθέραν µὲν ἐποίησαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα (‘they set Greece free’). The rhetoric of liberation may be a response to the Spartan claim to have fought the Peloponnesian War to free the Greeks from the tyranny of Athens: compare Isokrates’ more explicit complaints that the Spartans were enslaving the Greeks in the name of liberty (Isok. 4.122) whereas the Athenians had left each group—presumably each member-state—internally free (Isok. 4.105). ἑβδοµήκοντα µὲν ἔτη τῆς θαλάττης αρξαντες (‘ruled the sea for seventy years’). The approximate period from the foundation of the Athenian confederacy in 478 to the loss of the ﬁnal Athenian ﬂeet at Aigospotamoi in 405. In Isok. 4.106, 59 At §60, §64, §66 (all referring to the dead of the period from Aigospotamoi to the democratic counter-revolution), §74 and §75 (both referring to those being buried). The only earlier uses of the phrase are at §20 (where the mention of ancestors makes clear that the phrase is not being used to describe the dead of the Persian War) and at §1 (which could signify either the totality of those buried in the Kerameikos or those of the current campaign).

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seventy years is the period that the allies spent under ‘the same politeia as at Athens itself’ (τDν ατDν πολιτεαν ]νπερ παρ’ Gµ;ν ατο;: in context, this appears to mean democracy, cf. §56n). ἀστασιάστους δὲ παρασχόντες τοὺς συµµάχους (‘liberated their allies from civil strife’). Astasiastos (free from stasis or civil strife) is found only three times in the Orators, two of which are here and in the equivalent passage of the Pane¯gyrikos (Isok. 4.104).60 The fact that stasis tended to be associated with attempts to secede from the alliance means that Lysias could presumably claim that they were free from stasis insofar as they remained loyal allies. §56. οὐ τοῖς ὀλίγοις τοὺς πολλοὺς δουλεύειν ἀξιώσαντες (‘not by being content to enslave the masses to the minority’). The implication of this and the following clause seems to be that Athens consistently imposed democracy on its allies, whereas in fact this seems to have happened only in some cases.61 The same exaggeration is found in Isok. 4.106 (quoted at §55n), but whereas Isokrates is allusive and emphasises the fairness of sharing your constitution with your subject-allies, Lysias uses much more aggressive language (e.g. anankasantes, ‘enforcing’). οὐδὲ τοὺς συµµάχους ἀσθενεῖς ποιοῦντες, ἀλλὰ κἀκείνους ἰσχυροὺς καθιστάντες (‘they did not render their allies weak, but strengthened them as well’). ‘As well’: i.e. in addition to strengthening Athens as the imperial power. Isok. 4.104 speaks of Athens’ having encouraged harmony among and within the allied states, though not of having sought to develop their military strength. οὐκέτι τῶν ἀλλοτρίων ἐπεθύµει (‘no longer coveted what did not belong to him’), lit. ‘what belonged to others’. This presumably denotes the cities of the Greek mainland, in contrast to the Greek cities of Asia Minor (‘<part> of what he owned’). For the signiﬁcance of this in the context of the late 390s and/or of 387, see next note but one. ἐδίδου τῶν ἑαυτοῦ (‘gave up part of what he owned’). Or perhaps ‘was ready to give’: imperfect. §57. καὶ οὔτε τριήρεις ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ χρόνῳ ἐκ τῆς Ἀσίας ἔπλευσαν (‘during that period triremes did not sail out of Asia’). This raises the vexed question of whether Athens did or did not conclude a formal peace with Persia (the so-called

60

The other is at Lys. 33.7, where it refers to the Spartans and the stability of their constitution. The traditional view is that Athens tended to impose democracy only in particular types of circumstance, in particular when an ally had revolted: thus e.g. Meiggs (1972: 207–209), who notes the survival of moderate oligarchy at Mytilene until 428 and at Khios until 412. Ostwald (1993), however, has put forward a more pragmatic interpretation of the treatment of Samos after its revolt in 440, and argues that the imposition of democracy even in the context of failed revolt may have been an innovation of the 420s. 61

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Peace of Kallias) in the mid-ﬁfth century.62 As is well known, Thucydides makes no direct reference to such a peace,63 while the late-fourth-century historian and polemicist Theopompos (FGrH 115 F.154 Jacoby) goes so far as to claim that the inscription recording the terms of the Peace must have been a forgery because it was carved in a script which was not used until after 403. The Peace is, however, mentioned repeatedly and with increasingly speciﬁc detail in the fourth-century orators. Indeed the earliest reference to the existence of a treaty (albeit without the name of Kallias) is found in the Pane¯gyrikos, where Isokrates claims that it set Phaselis as a limit beyond which the Persians undertook not to sail (Isok. 4.118–120); the Areopagitikos, some twenty-ﬁve years later, mentions no treaty but adds a similar restriction to the movement of their ground forces (the River Halys, Isok. 7.80); still more detailed accounts of the terms are found in Dem. 19.273 (the ﬁrst to mention Kallias by name, in 343 bc) and in Lyk. 1.73 (330 bc). This pattern of reference is sufﬁciently striking to deserve explanation, and many even of those scholars who believe that the Peace did actually happen (among whom I tentatively include myself) agree that its growing importance in fourthcentury propaganda lies in the contrast ﬁrst drawn in the Pane¯gyrikos between ﬁfth-century Athens’ ability to impose its will on the Persians and the so-called King’s Peace or Peace of Antalkidas of 387 bc, under which the Great King recovered direct control of the Greek cities of Asia Minor and gained some form of indirect authority over the Greek mainland.64 The present passage may of course be simply drawing a contrast between Athens’ ﬁfth-century hegemony and Persian naval activity in the Aegean at the time of and immediately after the battle of Knidos in 394 bc (for which see §59n), but it is a contrast which would have added signiﬁcance if written after 387; and for those scholars prepared to countenance such a late date for the speech, it is tempting to read the whole of §57 as a pre-Isokratean response to the King’s Peace.65 It is certainly striking that any reference here to the Peace of Kallias is no more than a very gentle allusion: had our speech been dependent on the Pane¯gyrikos, we might have expected something much more speciﬁc. See further next note but three. οὔτε τύραννος ἐν τοῖς Ἥλλησι κατέστη (‘no tyrant was established among the Greeks’). In part this will be a criticism either of Lysander’s imposition of narrow oligarchies in 404 or of the intermittent Persian tradition of supporting nonconstitutional monarchies, but it may also be a response to criticisms that Athens itself had behaved as a collective tyrant in its dealings with the ﬁfth-century subject-allies. 62

For the modern controversy, see variously D. M. Lewis (1992a: 121–127); Badian (1993: 1–72). Though he does refer at Thuc. 8.56.4 to what may be an attempt to renegotiate one of the terms of the Peace, when Alkibiades (negotiating on behalf of Persia) proposed that the Great King should be allowed to build and sail ships wherever he chose along the coast of Asia Minor. 64 The King’s Peace took the form of an open letter from the Great King, announcing (among other things) his determination that all Greek cities were to be ‘autonomous’ and his determination to proceed against anybody who challenged this: in practice, military proceedings were to be taken on his behalf by the Spartans. 65 For which see p. 164 above. 63

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οὔτε Ἑλληνὶς πόλις ὑπὸ τῶν βαρβάρων ἠνδραποδίσθη (‘nor was any Greek polis enslaved by the barbarians’). The verb andrapodizo¯ and cognate noun andrapodismos, normally predicated of the entire population of a city (Isok. 4.100), denote the enslavement of women and children and usually the killing of adult males (Thuc. 5.116.4). So far as we know, the statement that no Greek city suffered this fate at Persian hands during this period is true, but several Greek cities did so at the hands of Athens, most notoriously Melos in 416. δεῖ µόνους (‘they alone deserve’). It is possible that this is a repudiation of the doctrine of dual hegemony (i.e. that Athens should control the sea, leaving Sparta to control the land); but unlikely, since that doctrine had been dead since the mid-ﬁfth century. καὶ προστάτας τῶν Ἑλλήνων καὶ ἡγεµόνας τῶν πόλεων (‘champions of Greece, and leaders of the poleis’). Xen. Hell. 5.1.36, speaks of the Spartans as prostatai (‘champions’ or ‘protectors’) of the King’s Peace. This is generally seen as Xenophon describing (perhaps in hindsight) the use that they made of it, rather than as part of the ofﬁcial terminology of the Peace itself:66 but if the latter, or indeed if such language were common at the time, then its use in the present passage too would gain added signiﬁcance if written after 387 as an ironic response to the Spartans’ rôle (see last note but three).

§§58–60: The Historical Past: (c) Athenian Misfortune: (i) Aigospotamoi and its consequences Having omitted much of the pente¯kontaëtia and the ﬁrst 26½ years of the Peloponnesian War, the speech moves into a further section which is not quite a narrative, but which has a series of narrative subtexts: it refers in quick succession to a series of what are presented as naval disasters, starting with the battle of Aigospotamoi in 405 bc, and continuing to that of Knidos in 394 bc and beyond.67 §58. καὶ ἐν ταῖς δυστυχίαις . . . ἀπολοµένων γὰρ τῶν νεῶν ἐν Ἑλλησπόντῳ (‘even in times of misfortune: for when the ﬂeet was destroyed in the Hellespont’). The particle gar (‘for’) suggests that the language of ‘misfortune’ here is a synonym for the decisive defeat at Aigospotamoi in 405, rather than a general reference to the difﬁculties suffered by Athens following the loss of the Sicilian Expedition in 413 bc. It is a commonplace of popular rhetoric that crushing defeats tend to be referred to circumspectly, particularly in forensic speeches (for which see 6.46n): certainly Lysias never mentions the battle of Aigospotamoi by name, but it is striking that this taboo applies not only in the forensic corpus—where there

66 For the view that Xen.’s use of prostatai reﬂects ofﬁcial terminology, see Cawkwell (1973: 53); for objections to this view, see D. M. Lewis (1977: 147 n. 80). For the rôle of the Spartans in enforcing the Peace, see last footnote but one. 67 For the presentation of Knidos in these terms, see §59n.

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is an obvious risk of upsetting the audience—but in a (?literary) funeral speech also. εἴτε ἡγεµόνος κακίᾳ εἴτε θεῶν διανοίᾳ (‘either because of incompetence on the part of a commander, or else as a result of divine intervention’). Stevens (1882 [1876]: 186) translates kakia here as ‘treason’; Schiassi (1967 [1962]: 96) reads it as ‘cowardice’; Dover (1968: 55 n. 9) citing various parallels, suggests simple ‘incompetence’ with no such criminal imputation. But Athenian attitudes to popular sovereignty tend to mean that in popular rhetoric incompetence is itself a treasonable act (on the grounds that the Assembly’s decisions ought to have been successful, had they not been thwarted). Certainly the language of corruption was on occasions used to explain the Aigospotamoi defeat, as perhaps at Dem. 19.191 which claims that Konon subsequently prosecuted for treason his former colleague Adeimantos, one of the losing Generals;68 and most clearly in Lys. 14.38, which attributes the defeat to a conspiracy between Adeimantos and Alkibiades.69 Given the critical tone taken in §59 towards Konon’s great victory at Knidos, Seager (1967: 108) suggests that Konon is one of those being blamed here. καὶ συµϕορᾶς ἐκείνης µεγίστης γενοµένης καὶ ἡµῖν τοῖς δυστυχήσασι καὶ τοῖς αλλοις Ἥλλησιν (‘there occurred what was a notorious disaster [lit. ‘that greatest disaster’] both for us who suffered it and for the rest of the Greeks’). Considerable care is taken to broaden the perspective, cf. following note. ἐδήλωσαν οὐ πολλῷ χρόνῳ ὕστερον ὅτι ἡ τῆς πόλεως δύναµις τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἦν σωτηρία (‘they made clear not long afterwards that the power of our city meant the security of Greece’). An implied attack on those Greeks who welcomed the destruction of the Long Walls as ‘the beginning of freedom’ (Plut. Lys. 15.4), though Plutarch’s conjunction of that episode with the appointment of the Thirty suggests that he thought they changed their minds pretty quickly. §59. ἑτέρων γὰρ ἡγεµόνων γενοµένων (‘it was when others became leaders’). This could refer to the Spartans as leaders of Greece (thus Schiassi 1967 [1962]: 97), or possibly to Konon as Persian commander: either would make sense as a reading of the battle of Knidos, where the Spartan ﬂeet was defeated by a Persian ﬂeet under the latter’s command. (The phrasing at Isok. 4.119 is very similar, and no more conclusive in enabling us to judge between interpretations.) οἱ πρότερον εἰς τὴν θάλατταν οὐκ ἐµβαίνοντες (‘those who had not previously manned a ﬂeet’). Given that the context is a naval battle, which chronologically can only be Knidos, it seems inevitable that these must be the Persians. It is an odd description, given that Persia did have a long naval tradition going back at least to Xerxes: presumably the point is that they have not done so in Greek waters 68

For this case, see Hansen (1975: cat. 68). A rather wild assertion, given that most writers claim that it was Alkibiades who on the day before the battle had tried to persuade the Athenian Generals to move to a safer base (thus e.g. Xen. Hell. 2.1.25–26; Plut. Alkib. 36.6; Diod.Sic. 13.105.3). 69

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within living memory.70 What is most striking, however, is the implication that Knidos is to be seen not as the defeat of Sparta by its Corinthian War adversaries including Athens (which is how it is perceived for instance even by Xen. Hell. 4.3.12), but rather as a defeat of Greeks by Persians, making it in a sense the logical consequence of Aigospotamoi. For the negative portrayal of Konon throughout this speech, see pp. 159–160 above, where the relationship between this passage and Isok. 4.119 is also discussed. ἔπλευσαν δ’ εἰς τὴν Εὐρώπην (‘sailed to Europe’). The use of Europe as a proper name in the epitaphic corpus is discussed in detail by Ziolkowski (1993). The activities of Konon and Pharnabazos after Knidos are summarised in Xen. Hell. 4.8, which represents them as ejecting Spartan harmosts (garrison commanders) initially from the islands and the coastal cities apparently of Asia Minor (Hell. 4.8.1–2). It was not until the next Spring that they sailed to the Greek mainland by way of Melos and Kythera (Hell. 4.8.7–8). For their impact, see following note. δουλεύουσι δὲ πόλεις τῶν Ἑλλήνων (‘are enslaving the cities of the Greeks’). For such a pro-Spartan historian, Xenophon is surprisingly careful to emphasise the success of Konon’s policy—at least initially—of winning the cities’ goodwill by treating them leniently (Hell. 4.8.2), and the generous ﬁnancial subventions offered by Pharnabazos to Athens and to Corinth (Hell. 4.8.9–10). Diodoros’ distinction between those who joined Konon and those who maintained freedom (14.84.4) suggests a greater awareness that Persian aid might have its price. What we have here reﬂects a much more explicitly negative portrayal, inﬂuenced presumably by subsequent events as the price of Persian aid began to seem more costly: a very similar view is found in Lysias’ Olympiakos, which complains about the naval hegemony of Persia (and also of Dionysios of Sicily, Lys. 33.5) and about ‘many parts of Greece being under the control of the barbarian’ (Lys. 33.3), but the date of this speech may be either 388 or 384, and it is therefore of no help in determining whether such sentiments ﬁt better before or after the King’s Peace of 387.71 τύραννοι δ’ ἐγκαθεστᾶσιν, οἱ µὲν µετὰ τὴν ἡµετέραν συµϕοράν, οἱ δὲ µετὰ τὴν νίκην τῶν βαρβάρων (‘tyrants were established, some in the aftermath of our misfortune, and others following the victory of the barbarians’). The ﬁrst group would seem to be Lysander’s dekarkhies (narrow oligarchies imposed in 404), whereas the second group are evidently Persian-imposed régimes. §60. ὥστ’ αξιον ἦν ἐπὶ τῷδε τῷ τάϕῳ τότε κείρασθαι τῇ Ἑλλάδι καὶ πενθῆσαι τοὺς ἐνθάδε κειµένους, ὡς συγκαταθαπτοµένης τῆς αὑτῶν ἐλευθερίας τῇ τούτων ἀρετῇ (‘at this tomb, therefore, it would have been right for Greece on that occasion to 70 Alternatively and less probably that previous ﬂeets are seen as being made up e.g. of Phoenicians, but I am not aware of any evidence that the ﬂeet of Konon and Pharnabazos at Knidos was different in that respect. 71 For the date of the Epitaphios, cf. p. 164 above.

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cut its hair in mourning, and to weep for those who lie here, because their own freedom lies entombed together with the bravery of these men’). The relationship between this passage and Aristotle’s Rhetoric, and the implications for the dating of the speech, are discussed at pp. 160–162 above. The purpose of ‘on that occasion’ (τ*τε) is to draw attention back from the immediate context to the earlier battle of Aigospotamoi, which is seen as having caused the situation that led to Knidos; ‘their own (α7τν) freedom’ is presumably that of the Greeks as the implied subjects of what are logically though not grammatically the main verbs, rather than the freedom of the deceased Athenians. For the cutting of hair as a symbol of mourning, compare e.g. Eurip. Troades, 480. ὡς δυστυχὴς µὲν ἡ Ἑλλὰς τοιούτων ἀνδρῶν ὀρϕανὴ γενοµένη (‘Greece suffered disaster when it was bereaved of such men’). Since an orphan in Greek is somebody whose father is dead, the implication of this bold metaphor is that Greece is being represented as in some sense their child. εὐτυχὴς δ’ ὁ τῆς Ἀσίας βασιλεὺς ἑτέρων ἡγεµόνων λαβόµενος (‘the King of Asia rejoices, and has taken on other leaders’). This could denote individuals such as Konon acting in Persian service, but it may refer to Persian attempts to control Greece through Sparta, culminating in the King’s Peace. (The range of meanings for lambanomai with the genitive suggested by LSJ, incidentally, focuses on the idea of seizing and retaining possession.) τῷ δ’ αλλων ἀρξάντων ζῆλος ἐγγίγνεται τῆς τῶν προγόνων διανοίας (‘as for the Great King, with others leading, he is ﬁlled with a desire to emulate the ambition of his ancestors’). Athenian attitudes towards Persia cooled during the second half of the Corinthian War (395–387), so this sort of remark about the Great King is understandable at any time after 392. But the reference to ‘others leading’— presumably leading us—seems odd even after this date, since Athens had at least a share in leading the Quadripartite Alliance. The implication seems to be that leadership of the Greeks has moved into the hands of Sparta, at least informally and possibly even formally under the terms of the King’s Peace.72

§§61–66: The Historical Past: (c) Athenian Misfortune: (ii) The democratic counter-revolution of 403/2 The informal narrative structure of §§58–60 allows the chronology to be disrupted, so that we move back from Knidos in 394 bc to the democratic counterrevolution that ended the Civil War of 404/3. The dead of the Civil War—or more speciﬁcally the democratic dead (§61), but the category is broadened so as to include also those non-citizens who assisted them (§66)—are praised extensively, with a considerable amount of narrative detail, which allows this section both to conclude the historical narrative and also to foreshadow the praise of those being buried at §§67–76. There is admittedly some justiﬁcation in assimilating the dead of the Civil War to those of this year’s campaign, in that many of those being 72

For the chronological implications, see p. 164 above.

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buried will have been old enough to have fought in 403 (though on what side?). The need to justify it against the appearance of irrelevance, however, is evident at §64n. 73 §61. ἀλλὰ ταῦτα µὲν ἐξήχθην ὑπὲρ πάσης ὀλοϕύρασθαι τῆς Ἑλλάδος (‘I have been led into uttering these lamentations on behalf of the whole of Greece’). The illusion is of a speech being delivered extempore. The implication of exagomai (‘to be led away’) is that the Pan-hellenic concerns of §§58–60 are in some sense a distraction, or at least that they have led him to omit part of his intended agenda. οἳ ϕεύγοντες τὴν δουλείαν (‘who ﬂed from slavery’). For the rule of the Thirty as ‘slavery’, see e.g. Lys. 12.39; 18.5; 26.2. Here the metaphor is deployed so as to ensure from the outset that whatever the terms of the Amnesty of 403, the men who deserve to be commemorated are speciﬁcally those who fought on the democratic side under Thrasyboulos, rather than their opponents who had supported the oligarchs. ὑπὲρ τῆς δηµοκρατίας στασιάσαντες (‘fought for democracy’), lit. ‘took part in civil strife on behalf of democracy’. Elsewhere in this speech, as indeed throughout Greek literature, stasis (civil strife) has at best neutral connotations (as at 2.65), but more commonly negative ones (as at 2.21, 2.56, and 2.63). The etymology of the word is instructive: stasis is the taking up of a position, and it is a sign of the institutional weakness of the ancient state that ﬁxed positions in politics are something that can too readily lead to civil war. For the term to be used in a positive context, as here, is unusual though not unparalleled: Lysias elsewhere uses it similarly of the counter-revolutionaries of 404/3 at 12.52, and of those who fought against ‘the tyrants’ (evidently the Peisistratids) at 26.22. πάντας πολεµίους κεκτηµένοι εἰς τὸν Πειραιᾶ κατῆλθον (‘they had all sorts of enemies, but returned from exile to Peiraieus’). Or perhaps ‘they made all men their enemies’ (reading pantas predicatively). It is a slightly odd thing to say on either interpretation, but it does enable the democratic counter-revolutionaries to be represented as the legitimate heirs of the isolationist mythology developed throughout the speech (for which see §20n). For the return of Thrasyboulos’ counter-revolutionaries ﬁrst to Phyle and then to Mounykhia near Peiraieus, see Xen. Hell. 2.4.2 and 2.4.10–11; for the language which our sources use when referring to them, see 6.38n. οὐχ ὑπὸ νόµου ἀναγκασθέντες, ἀλλ’ ὑπὸ τῆς ϕύσεως πεισθέντες (‘they were not compelled by nomos, but persuaded by their own noble nature’). An unusually negative reading of nomos (law and/or custom). §62. κοινὴν τὴν πόλιν καὶ τοῖς αλλοις (‘a polis that would be shared with other people as well’), i.e. presumably with their defeated opponents, the men from the 73

For the suggestion that Plato’s version of the Civil War in the Menexenos contains sarcastic exaggeration of Lysias’ account, see pp. 155–156 above.

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town (hoi ex asteo¯s) who had supported the Thirty (cf. similarly 12.92 and 26.2), rather than with the metics and other foreigners whose part in the liberation is mentioned below. (Though there could also be a personal gripe here: see §66n.) συµµάχους µὲν ὅρκους καὶ συνθήκας ἔχοντες (‘they made the oaths and the agreements into their allies’). Despite modern usage, neither the term amne¯steia nor its cognates are used in Classical sources to refer to the Amnesty of 403/2, but the phrase ‘horkoi kai sunthe¯kai’ used here is so common that it serves almost as a technical term. (See for instance Lys. 13.88–89, where it appears four times.) It is chronologically somewhat high-handed to say that the Amnesty, which was negotiated in the summer of 403 after ﬁghting had ceased, served as the ally of the democrats apparently while they were returning to take part in the Civil War.74 πολεµίους δὲ τοὺς πρότερον ὑπάρχοντας καὶ τοὺς πολίτας τοὺς ἑαυτῶν (‘their enemies were not just those who had previously fulﬁlled this rôle, but also their own citizens’). Emphasising the scale of the odds against them. Evidently two categories are being referred to here: the Spartans as long-standing enemies, but also now the Athenian supporters of oligarchy. §63. ἀλλ’ ὅµως οὐ τὸ πλῆθος τῶν ἐναντίων ϕοβηθέντες (‘nevertheless, they did not fear the number of those against them’). Xen. Hell. 2.4.11–12 implies a disparity of about ﬁve-to-one at the battle of Mounykhia, which was fought immediately after the return to Peiraieus mentioned at §61. The disparity (though not the absolute number) may have been even greater at the earlier battle at Phyle (Xen. Hell. 2.4.2–3). τρόπαιον µὲν τῶν πολεµίων ἔστησαν (‘they put up a trophy over their enemies’). For the importance of trophies in this speech, see §20n. No other source to my knowledge mentions the erection of a trophy after the battle of Mounykhia, though it is not inherently implausible (certainly the oligarchs recovered the bodies of their dead under a truce, thereby conceding defeat: Xen. Hell. 2.4.19). It is most unlikely that a trophy was erected after the ﬁnal battle of the Civil War: see following note. µάρτυρας δὲ τῆς αὑτῶν ἀρετῆς ἐγγὺς ὄντας τοῦδε τοῦ µνήµατος τοὺς Λακεδαιµονίων τάϕους παρέχονται (‘and created witnesses of their own bravery, in the shape of the tombs of the Spartans which are near this monument’). No attempt is made here to distinguish the battle at Mounykhia in which the democratic counter-revolutionaries defeated the Thirty (see last note but one) from the ﬁnal battle of the Civil War, fought against the army of the Peloponnesian League under Pausanias, who won (and erected his own trophy, Xen. Hell. 2.4.35): the effect of this conﬂation is to portray Pausanias as a defeated rather than a

74 I used to think that the reference might be to the oath which (according to Xen. Hell. 2.4.25) Thrasyboulos’ men swore immediately after the battle at Mounykhia, but this would not account for the sunthe¯kai.

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victorious enemy. Xenophon reports that several Spartans, three of whom he names, were killed in this ﬁnal battle and buried in the Kerameikos (Xen. Hell. 2.4.33). The tomb itself, containing thirteen corpses, was identiﬁed on the basis of an accompanying inscription and excavated in the early twentieth century.75 The provision and maintenance of a good-quality tomb will have served several purposes. It will have reinforced the position of Pausanias in conceding remarkably generous terms to the Athenian democrats, while allowing the democracy (as here) to claim victory out of defeat.76 Had this been a real funeral speech, Lysias would presumably have been able to point to it, though to my knowledge no other ancient author does so. ὁµονοοῦσαν δὲ ἀντὶ στασιαζούσης ἀπέϕηναν (‘showed that it was united instead of being crippled by civil strife’). For the language of homonoia and of stasis in this speech, see respectively §18n and §61n. τείχη δὲ ἀντὶ τῶν καθῃρηµένων ἀνέστησαν (‘they put up walls in place of those which had been destroyed’). The Long Walls linking Athens with Peiraieus and the sea, which were erected under Themistokles, had been destroyed by the Spartans under the terms of the surrender of 404.77 Rebuilding work took place during the ﬁrst half of the Corinthian War: it is traditionally associated with the name of Konon, because of the use of Persian money which he brought for the purpose after the battle of Knidos in August 394 (Xen. Hell. 4.8.9–10), though Xenophon suggests that work had already begun before his arrival, and this is conﬁrmed by epigraphic evidence for moneys paid for rebuilding in the years from 395/4 to 392/1 (Rhodes & Osborne, no. 9). The tense of the verb here would imply that the rebuilding is at least substantially complete, and the implications of this for the date of the speech are discussed at p. 164 above. More signiﬁcant for the political signiﬁcance of the speech, however, is the fact that the rebuilding is attributed not to Konon but to the democratic counterrevolutionaries: this is regarded by Pohlenz (1948: 70) and by Albini (1955: 454 n. 21) as the sort of chronological error that could not have been made by a contemporary, but I suspect it is better to see it as yet another aspect of the negative portrayal of Konon throughout the speech, for which see pp. 159–160 above. §64. ἀδελϕὰ τὰ βουλεύµατα τοῖς ἔργοις τῶν ἐνθάδε κειµένων ἐπιδεικνύντες (‘showed that their counsels were equal to the deeds of those who lie here’). 75 The most recent discussion is by Low, who notes that publication of fresh excavations is forthcoming, and discusses the signiﬁcance to the Spartans of burying their war-dead in foreign territory (Low 2006: 98 with n. 38). 76 This may also be evidence that the speech was written by a contemporary, since the location of the tombs does not seem to be the sort of thing that would be remembered in perpetuity: certainly Pausanias’ account of the Kerameikos mentions the tomb of Thrasyboulos, but not of the Spartans (Pausan. 1.29.3). 77 The humiliation caused by the destruction of the Walls is clear from Lys. 12.62 and Lys. frag. 170 Defence Against Hippotherses lines 194–197. For the arguments of Medda that the ‘walls which had been built’ in the latter passage should be read as referring to the Walls of Konon rather than those of Themistokles, see p. 14 n. 51 above.

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This is the crucial phrase in justifying the relevance of the excursus on the Civil War: the dead, or at least the democratic dead, deserve such extended praise because those who are being buried are really the same sort of people as they were. οὐκ ἐπὶ τιµωρίαν τῶν ἐχθρῶν ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως ἐτράποντο (‘they turned their attention not to the punishment of their opponents but to the safety of the polis’). Timo¯ria (a cross between ‘punishment’ and ‘revenge’) is not necessarily a bad motive—it is a matter for regret at §16 that Herakles had not had the chance to indulge in it—but it is certainly a luxury. The safety (so¯te¯ria) of the polis becomes almost a technical term in this period, to the extent that the would-be oligarchic revolutionaries of 411 make it part of their manifesto (Thuc. 8.72.1, 8.86.3, and esp. Ath.Pol. 29.2, the latter from an ofﬁcial document); the same language is used by clients of Lysias from a variety of political persuasions (25.23; 26.22–23), and can even be used as the subject of an albeit ﬁctitious Assembly debate (Aristoph. Ekkles. 395–397). For the assonance between timo¯ria and so¯te¯ria, cf. Andok. 1.140. τῆς µὲν αὑτῶν ἐλευθερίας καὶ τοῖς βουλοµένοις δουλεύειν µετέδοσαν, τῆς δ’ ἐκείνων δουλείας αὐτοὶ µετέχειν οὐκ ἠξίωσαν (‘gave a share in their own freedom to those prepared to endure slavery, whereas they themselves refused to share the slavery of those men’), lit. ‘gave a share . . . also to those . . .’, but this sounds odd in English. ‘Those prepared to endure slavery’ are the supporters of oligarchy, who are evidently the same as ‘those men’. Similar language is deployed at Lys. 26.2, though on that occasion there is an explicit contrast with the mentality of the oligarchs. §65. ἔργοις δὲ µεγίστοις καὶ καλλίστοις ἀπελογήσαντο (‘they defended themselves by means of very great and very glorious deeds’). We might expect apologeomai (the standard verb for a defence-speech in a law court) to denote words rather than military actions, though the hoti clause that follows can perhaps be regarded as a form of reported speech. There may be a conscious word-play, suggesting that the best defence against a charge of cowardice is not speech but action. ὅτι οὐ κακίᾳ τῇ αὑτῶν οὐδ’ ἀρετῇ <τῇ> τῶν πολεµίων πρότερον ἐδυστύχησεν ἡ πόλις (‘that the city’s previous misfortune was not the result of its own cowardice nor of the enemy’s bravery’). For the need to blame somebody for policy errors and disasters, see §58n. This passage does not quite put the blame for losing the Peloponnesian War on the supporters of the oligarchs, but the ﬁnal sentence of §65 comes close to it (see next note but one). στασιάσαντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους βίᾳ παρόντων Πελοποννησίων καὶ τῶν αλλων ἐχθρῶν (‘while engaged in military conﬂict against fellow-citizens and in the face of the Peloponnesians and other hostile forces’). Military conﬂict: lit. stasis (‘civil strife’), for which see §61n. It is difﬁcult to identify the ‘other hostile forces’, unless they are Lysander’s mercenaries. Pausanias’ Peloponnesian League army

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may well have included non-Peloponnesians, but we would not expect them to be mentioned separately. δῆλον ὅτι ῥᾳδίως αν ὁµονοοῦντες πολεµεῖν αὐτοῖς ἐδύναντο (‘it is clear that united they would easily have defeated them’), lit. ‘in a state of homonoia (unity of purpose)’, for which see §18n. As noted above, the context would seem to carry a one-sided implication: ‘if the oligarchs had been homonoountes with us, we would have won the Peloponnesian War’. §66. ἐκεῖνοι µὲν οὖν (‘so then, these men’), i.e. the democratic counterrevolutionaries. διὰ τοὺς ἐν Πειραιεῖ κινδύνους (‘because of the dangers they faced at Peiraieus’). Not Phyle: the implication seems to be that the Mounykhia battle is for the speaker’s purposes more important. (It is possible, though not certain, that Lysias was himself present at Mounykhia, whereas he was evidently not at Phyle.) αξιον δὲ καὶ τοὺς ξένους τοὺς ἐνθάδε κειµένους ἐπαινέσαι (‘but we should remember also to praise the xenoi buried here’). Most of these xenoi will have been metics (like Lysias himself), though the term allows for the inclusion of non-resident non-citizens. The attention devoted to non-citizens here, which is unparalleled in the epitaphic corpus, has predictably received attention from scholars. As was noted at p. 162 above, it is difﬁcult to think of any other writer during this period who would have had particular cause to include such a passage. Unless we are prepared to countenance the far-fetched hypothesis that this passage has been introduced by a later author deliberately seeking to deceive us,78 it would seem to be strong if not conclusive evidence for Lysianic authorship, and is accepted as such by e.g. Bizos (1967: 43). οἳ τῷ πλήθει βοηθήσαντες καὶ περὶ τῆς ἡµετέρας σωτηρίας µαχόµενοι (‘who assisted the democracy and fought for our safety’). Note the equation of the safety of Athens with the democratic victory in 403. For the use of the phrase ‘safety of the polis’, see §64n. For ple¯thos as ‘democracy’, see 9.15n. πατρίδα τὴν ἀρετὴν ἡγησάµενοι (‘they regarded bravery as their fatherland’). It is not clear whether this is bravery in the abstract or the bravery that they themselves had demonstrated. Hude tentatively suggested emending arete¯n into hairete¯n (α!ρετν), which would mean ‘they regarded as their fatherland the one that they had chosen’. See however Loraux (1986: 35 n. 138), who notes that Hude appears to have been ‘terriﬁed by the originality of a formula condemned by Blass’, and ﬁnds a close parallel to the received text at Lys. 31.6 (δια` τ µD τDν π*λιν α2λλα` τDν οσαν πατρδα /αυτο; Gγε;σθαι, ‘because they regard as their fatherland not the polis but their property’). For patris, see §17n. τοιαύτην τοῦ βίου τελευτὴν ἐποιήσαντο (‘they made this the climax of their lives’). Or ‘made such an end of life’. For the concept of the ‘beautiful death’, see §23n. 78

The suggestion was put forward by Blass (1868: 439), but is not found in the 1887 edition.

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ἀνθ’ ὧν ἡ πόλις αὐτοὺς καὶ ἐπένθησε καὶ ἔθαψε δηµοσίᾳ (‘it was in return for this that the polis gave them ofﬁcial mourning and burial’). It is hard to be sure how far this was true either normally or in the special circumstances of 403. Thucydides’ account of the public funeral ceremony allocates a rôle in the procession to non-citizens, but his mention of tribal biers would seem to exclude the presence of non-citizen corpses.79 Certainly it is the citizens and their democracy that seem to be the sole subject of the other surviving funeral speeches. Those non-citizens who had fought for the democrats at Phyle seem eventually to have been rewarded with citizenship, and some form of honoriﬁc reward was granted also to those who fought at Mounykhia and those who subsequently supported the democrats at Peiraieus,80 but we have no other evidence for the treatment of those non-citizens who died in either battle.

§§67–76: Praise of Those Being Buried This divides into two halves: a brief discussion of their campaign (§§67–68), and a rather longer section of generic praise for the dead and comfort for their relatives (§§69–76).

§§67–68: Praise of Those Being Buried: (a) Their Campaign The vagueness of this section has been attacked by some scholars (e.g. Blass 1887 [1868]: 441), who see the lack of detail as evidence for inauthenticity. It should however be noted that this is a feature shared with many other funeral speeches, most notably that of Thucydides: indeed, the presence of detailed allusions to the campaign is one of the features that marks out Hypereides’ speech as a maverick. §67. οἱ δὲ νῦν θαπτόµενοι (‘the men who are now being buried here’). For the ﬁrst time an unambiguous contrast to the repeated use of enthade keimai (‘are lying here’), which can denote either the dead of this year’s campaign or the totality of those buried at the Kerameikos (see §1n and §54n). βοηθήσαντες Κορινθίοις ὑπὸ παλαιῶν ϕίλων ἀδικουµένοις καινοὶ σύµµαχοι γενόµενοι (‘brought help to the Corinthians when they were wronged by former friends, and became their new allies’). Not very speciﬁc. ‘Former friends’ presumably denotes the Spartans, to whom Corinth had been allied throughout the Peloponnesian War (as indeed had Thebes, which fought alongside Athens, Corinth and Argos throughout the Corinthian War). Helping the Corinthians (rather than e.g. the Thebans) would seem to rule out the battles of Haliartos and Koroneia as the assumed dramatic context for the speech, leaving the battle of the Nemea

79 Thuc. 2.34.3–4: not quite conclusive, as noted at p. 149 n. 4 above, because metics (though not other foreigners) were tribally brigaded. 80 For the categories, see M. J. Osborne (1981–83.ii: no. D.6, at p. 27), though the speciﬁcs of the reward granted to the latter two categories are contested; several more recent suggestions are noted in Rhodes & Osborne (2003: no.4, at p. 26).

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267

River in 394 as an obvious candidate, but the area round Corinth was also the location for much of the ﬁghting of 393–390.81 οἱ µὲν γὰρ τῶν ἀγαθῶν αὐτοῖς ἐϕθόνουν, οἱ δὲ ἀδικουµένους αὐτοὺς ἠλέουν (‘for the one group [the Spartans] envied the good things that belonged to them [the Corinthians], whereas the others [the Athenians] pitied them because of the wrong done to them’). It is hard to see what good things belonged speciﬁcally to the Corinthians which the Spartans are supposed to have envied, nor in what sense ‘wrong’ has been done to them: Spartan selﬁshness in keeping to themselves the spoils of the Peloponnesian War is the motive usually given for the Quadruple Alliance, but it can hardly be classed as a ‘wrong’. The overall contrast between Athenian magnanimity and Spartan envy does pick up some of the rhetoric of the early fourth century (Spartan selﬁshness over the spoils of the Peloponnesian War, as above, and subsequently Spartan self-interest in interpreting the terms of King’s Peace). Given the dramatic occasion, however, this speech overall displays surprisingly little anti-Spartan rhetoric. οὐ τῆς προτέρας ἔχθρας µεµνηµένοι (‘forgetting previous quarrels’). Perhaps a hint at the rôle played by Corinth in persuading Spartans to undertake the Peloponnesian War: Thuc. 1.118–125. ἀλλὰ τὴν παροῦσαν ϕιλίαν περὶ πολλοῦ ποιούµενοι (‘placing a high value on existing friendship’). Unclear, unless it means that they committed themselves to the Corinthians in 395 and so were bound to assist them later in the decade. §68. ἐτόλµησαν γὰρ µεγάλην ποιοῦντες τὴν Ἑλλάδα οὐ µόνον ὑπὲρ τῆς αὑτῶν σωτηρίας κινδυνεύειν (‘they had the courage to make Greece great, not only by facing danger for the sake of their own safety’), lit. ‘they dared not only to face danger . . . while making Greece great’. For the language of danger in this speech, see §3n. τοῖς γὰρ Λακεδαιµονίων συµµάχοις περὶ τῆς ἐκείνων ἐλευθερίας ἐµάχοντο (‘it was on behalf of the allies of Sparta that they were ﬁghting, to ensure their freedom’). Given what follows, this seems to mean not ‘Sparta’s former allies’ such as Corinth, but instead those still in the Peloponnesian League. νικήσαντες µὲν γὰρ ἐκείνους τῶν αὐτῶν ἠξίουν, δυστυχήσαντες δὲ βέβαιον τὴν δουλείαν τοῖς ἐν τῇ Πελοποννήσῳ κατέλιπον (‘victorious, they regarded their opponents as worthy of the same things; unsuccessful, they made the slavery of the Peloponnesians secure’). The ‘same things’ are presumably the liberties that they themselves enjoyed: compare the attitude attributed to the democratic counter-revolutionaries at §64n. The text printed by Carey and translated here is that of the manuscript, in which both halves of this sentence are statements of 81 See p. 163 above. Xen. Hell. 4.2.14–15 speaks of the Battle of the Nemea River as a victory for ‘the Corinthians and their allies’: even though the Argives had provided more troops (4.2.17); Lys. 16.15 similarly speaks of it as an ‘expedition to Corinth’.

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fact, but logically we would expect one or other of them to be an unreal conditional, since it is difﬁcult to be both victorious and unsuccessful: several scholars (e.g. Auger and Blass) have therefore added an to the ﬁrst half of the sentence, which seems on balance more probable given that otherwise we might expect to be told at the start of §69 that the miserable condition of Sparta’s Peloponnesian League subject-allies has now ﬁnally been rectiﬁed.82 It should, however, be noted that Markland and Cobet added it to the second half (‘had they been unlucky, they would have made slavery secure’), which palaeographically and grammatically is just as easy a solution.

§§69–76: Praise of Those Being Buried: (b) Generic Praise and Lamentation §69 marks a gradual transition from the campaign towards generic praise of the dead, which itself leads into comfort for their relatives from §71. Given the positive way in which death is described here, and the way in which the ritual of the public funeral served to assimilate the collective dead to the individual chieftain of the Homeric poems (cf. p. 150 above) it is perhaps surprising that nothing is said explicitly about hero-cult until §80. §69. ἐκείνοις µὲν οὖν (‘So, then, for the latter’). Evidently Sparta’s subject-allies of the Peloponnesian League, whose depressed condition (apparently continuing, cf. §68n) is contrasted here with the heroic blessedness of the Athenian casualties. παιδευθέντες µὲν ἐν τοῖς τῶν προγόνων ἀγαθοῖς (‘they had been schooled in the bravery of their ancestors’). For the rôle of upbringing in epitaphioi, see §3n. §70. ἐπηνώρθωσαν δὲ τὰ ὑϕ’ ἑτέρων δυστυχηθέντα (‘they remedied the misfortunes suffered [or possibly ‘committed’] by others’). The meaning depends on our reading of the prepositional phrase, but presumably it relates in some way to the Peloponnesian War. πόρρω δ’ ἀπὸ τῆς αὑτῶν τὸν πόλεµον κατέστησαν (‘they banished the ﬁghting far away from their own territory’). It is unusual in our sources to ﬁnd so clearly stated that one of the major aims of Athenian foreign policy after 403 was to keep enemy forces out of Attica: the traumatic experience of the Dekeleian War made it inconceivable to repeat Perikles’ policy of 431. τῇ µὲν γὰρ πατρίδι τὰ τροϕεῖα ἀποδόντες, τοῖς δὲ θρέψασι λύπας καταλιπόντες (‘repaying their fatherland for their upbringing, but leaving their parents to grieve’). The metaphor of paternity as a model of patriotism is discussed by Dover (1974: 219), who notes the implication that you have a duty to repay your fatherland, just as you are legally obliged to maintain your elderly parents. For the rôle of upbringing in epitaphic speeches, see §3n; for patris, see §17n. 82

The possibility of a post-387 dating for the speech is explored at p. 164 above.

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§71. ὥστε αξιον τοῖς ζῶσι τούτους ποθεῖν (‘it is ﬁtting therefore for those who are left alive to miss them’). Potheo¯ denotes a more passionate desire than is suggested by English ‘miss them’, though it does have the sense of longing for what you do not or cannot have, as at §39, where pothos denotes ‘cries of longing for (sc. absent) women’. καὶ τοὺς προσήκοντας αὐτῶν ἐλεεῖν τοῦ ἐπιλοίπου βίου (‘and to pity the dead men’s relatives in view of their future life’). Compare the treatment of relatives in Thucydides’ funeral speech, where the parents receive comfort not condolence (Thuc. 2.44.1), combined with an encouragement for those who can to breed more (Thuc. 2.44.3), and the claim that those too old for this will be comforted by the fame of the deceased (Thuc. 2.44.4). Sons and brothers, by contrast, are told that they face a major challenge (presumably in living up to the example set by the deceased, Thuc. 2.45.1); while the virtues appropriate to women are addressed with some reluctance (Thuc. 2.45.2). αὑτοὺς µὲν ἀπεστέρησαν βίου (‘who have themselves been deprived of life’), lit. ‘have deprived themselves of life’, but that translation conjures up an image of devotio (a form of ritual self-immolation) that is more characteristic of Roman thought than of the Greek text. χήρας δὲ γυναῖκας ἐποίησαν, ὀρϕανοὺς δὲ τοὺς αὑτῶν παῖδας ἀπέλιπον, ἐρήµους δ’ ἀδελϕοὺς καὶ πατέρας καὶ µητέρας κατέστησαν (‘who have left their wives as widows, who have turned their own children into orphans, and who have left their brothers and mothers and fathers isolated’). There is more emphasis here on women than there is in Thucydides’ address to the relatives (cf. above), though it is worth noting that throughout this section of the speech Lysias casts the relatives in the third person rather than addressing them directly. On the rôle played by war-orphans in Plato’s Menexenos, and their public maintenance at Athens, see §3n. §72. πολλῶν δὲ καὶ δεινῶν ὑπαρχόντων (‘despite the many terrible things which have happened’). Given that the deaths of the current year’s campaigning season would hardly seem to justify such a description, there may be an allusion here to the Civil War of §§61–66. τοὺς µὲν παῖδας αὐτῶν ζηλῶ, ὅτι νεώτεροί εἰσιν ἢ ὥστε εἰδέναι οἵων πατέρων ἐστέρηνται (‘I regard their children as happy, because they are too young to know the sorts of fathers they have lost’). For a modern reader, this seems rather odd: it is the sort of thing that we would say either about very small children (i.e. that they are too young to understand what is going on), or alternatively in situations where fathers had been away for several years (which might have been the case during the Ionian War, but less obviously so in the 390s). For the proper sentiments of a son towards his deceased father, see Strauss (1993: 76–81); cf. also Golden (1990: 101–102). ἐξ ὧν δ’ οὗτοι γεγόνασιν, οἰκτίρω, ὅτι πρεσβύτεροι ἢ ὥστε ἐπιλαθέσθαι τῆς δυστυχίας τῆς ἑαυτῶν (‘but I pity those who gave birth to the dead, because they

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are too old to forget their misfortune’). Contrast Thucydides’ claim (cf. above) that parents who are too old to have more children will be comforted by the fame of the deceased (Thuc. 2.44.4). §73. τί γὰρ αν τούτων ἀνιαρότερον γένοιτο, ἢ τεκεῖν µὲν καὶ θρέψαι καὶ θάψαι τοὺς αὑτῶν (‘what could be more dreadful than to give birth to one’s own children, to bring them up, and then to bury them?’).83 A sentiment familiar in Greek literature since Homer: refs. in Grifﬁn (1980: 123–125). As well as this being an inversion of the proper natural order, there is also the economic consideration that in a world with very little public or charitable provision for the care of those who are weak, children are a way of insuring oneself against old age; at Athens a son who was shown to have failed in his duty to maintain his elderly parents stood to suffer atimia (deprivation of the rights of citizenship). ἐν δὲ τῷ γήρᾳ ἀδυνάτους µὲν εἶναι τῷ σώµατι, πασῶν δ’ ἀπεστερηµένους τῶν ἐλπίδων ἀϕίλους καὶ ἀπόρους γεγονέναι (‘to be physically weakened by old age, to be without friends or means of livelihood, and deprived of all hope’). The attitude to old age here is discussed by Dover (1974: 266), who notes that nothing is said about the afterlife either here or in the equivalent section of Thucydides’ funeral speech. ὑπὸ δὲ τῶν αὐτῶν (‘by the same people’). Or, accepting Sauppe’s conjecture 7π ρ, ‘for the same reason’ (i.e. because they had had sons who are now dead). §74. ἀλλὰ τότε αὐτῶν εἰκὸς καὶ τοὺς αλλους µεµνῆσθαι (‘but that is when it is reasonable for others also to remember them’). The fact that other people may join you in grieving does admittedly make your grief less private, but to suggest that this somehow devalues your grief (which seems to be the point here) would seem a curiously modern attitude. ἀλλ’ ἐν ταῖς εὐτυχίαις ταῖς κοιναῖς (‘or should it be at times of general rejoicing?’). This may refer to regular city festivals, or to special thanksgivings for military victory. ὅταν ὁρῶσι τοὺς µὲν πρότερον ὄντας ϕίλους ϕεύγοντας τὴν αὑτῶν ἀπορίαν, τοὺς δ’ ἐχθροὺς µέγα ϕρονοῦντας ἐπὶ ταῖς δυστυχίαις ταῖς τούτων (‘when they can see their former friends trying to escape from their own perplexity, and their enemies boasting about the misfortunes that these men are suffering’). A tricky passage. ‘These men’ could be the friends, but logic suggests that it is likely to mean the bereaved; the reﬂexive ‘their own’, however, could equally denote the perplexity either of the friends as subjects of the clause, or that of the bereaved as subjects of the sentence. It is difﬁcult also to identify the ‘private times of danger’, and in what sense the friends are trying to ‘escape’ (are they leaving a sinking ship, or

83

For an example of verbal overlap—not in my view signiﬁcant for the authorship of either speech—see 10.28n.

2. Funeral speech: Commentary §§74–76

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dissociating themselves from those with whom they are now no longer friends, or what?). §75. µόνην δ’ αν µοι δοκοῦµεν ταύτην τοῖς ἐνθάδε κειµένοις ἀποδοῦναι χάριν, εἰ τοὺς µὲν τοκέας αὐτῶν ὁµοίως ὥσπερ ἐκεῖνοι περὶ πολλοῦ ποιοίµεθα (‘the only thing, it seems to me, that we could give as an act of gratitude to those who are lying here would be for us to value their parents as much as they themselves valued them’), lit. ‘we would be seen to be rewarding . . . only if we valued. . .’. ‘Give’ is rather a limited translation of apodido¯mi, which tends to have a sense of payment or recompense; kharis (here translated ‘reward’) often has similarly reciprocal overtones. In contrast to the historical narrative, enthade keimai here and at §76 seems to denote speciﬁcally those currently being buried rather than the totality of the dead in the Kerameikos (see §1n). ταῖς δὲ γυναιξὶν εἰ τοιούτους βοηθοὺς ἡµᾶς αὐτοὺς παρέχοιµεν, οἷοίπερ ἐκεῖνοι ζῶντες ἦσαν (‘and in our own persons to offer the same sort of support to their widows as they did when alive’). It is interesting to ﬁnd this explicitly mentioned. We are told at Ath.Pol. 56.6 that among other cases heard by the Arkhon’s court were those involving the kako¯sis (maltreatment or exploitation) of a parent, of an orphan, of an epikle¯ros, or of the estate of an orphan;84 and Ath.Pol. 56.7 adds that the Arkhon has a responsibility for orphans, epikle¯roi, and women who claim to be pregnant at the time of their husband’s death. This last provision, however, need indicate no more than society’s interest in her potential capacity to produce an heir for her late husband. There is no evidence for the existence of any legal procedures to protect widows qua widows, despite the fact that we know of several cases in which widows have difﬁculty maintaining their interests and those of their children (most notably Dem. 27 and—at least according to the rhetoric of the speech—Lys. 32). §76. τίνας δ’ αν τῶν ζώντων δικαιότερον περὶ πολλοῦ ποιοίµεθα ἢ τοὺς τούτοις προσήκοντας (‘which of the living would we value more justly than we value their relatives’). The offer of glory-by-extension to the relatives of the dead takes things rather further than is done in Thucydides’ funeral speech. ἀποθανόντων δὲ µόνοι γνησίως τῆς δυστυχίας µετέχουσιν (‘<who> alone have a legitimate share in the misfortunes of the dead’). For the language of legitimate birth, compare §43n. To wallow in misfortune to such an extent may appear to us rather macabre, but this seems to be part of a world-view which allows rather more space to individual glory (albeit spread among many) than is permitted in 84 These all seem to have been public cases, though there is dispute as to whether they were graphai or eisangeliai. ‘Parent’ in this context appears to denote elderly parents who have handed on control of the family estate to the next generation; an epikle¯ros, though often misleadingly translated ‘heiress’, is a woman who is left without brothers at the time of her father’s death, and in whom her father’s estate is therefore vested. To my knowledge, nobody has satisfactorily explained why an orphan’s estate should be the subject of a separate action, though it is incidentally worth noting that war-orphans not only received procedural protection but were also brought up at the expense of the polis (cf. §3n).

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Thucydides’ funeral speech. It is perhaps worth noting in this context that Lysias’ brother Polemarkhos, whose arrest and execution under the Thirty is recounted at Lys. 12.16–18, could easily be represented as at least a war-martyr if not a war-hero.

§§77–81: Peroration This is introduced by a brief transitional sentence which serves to undercut the laments of §§69–76, and to introduce a tone of consolation. §77. οὐ γὰρ ἐλανθάνοµεν ἡµᾶς αὐτοὺς ὄντες θνητοί (‘for we have not forgotten that we ourselves are mortal’, lit. ‘being mortal, we have not escaped our notice’), i.e. this is something we were always aware of. οὔτε γὰρ τοὺς πονηροὺς ὑπερορᾷ οὔτε τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς θαυµάζει, ἀλλ’ ἴσον ἑαυτὸν παρέχει πᾶσιν (‘it does not overlook criminals, nor does it respect good men, but presents itself equally to everybody’). For the sentiment, see Dover (1974: 266–268). §78. εἰ µὲν γὰρ οἷόν τε ἦν τοῖς τοὺς ἐν τῷ πολέµῳ κινδύνους διαϕυγοῦσιν ἀθανάτους εἶναι τὸν λοιπὸν χρόνον (‘if it were possible for those who avoid military danger to be immortal for the rest of time’). Recalling Sarpedon’s words to Glaukos in Iliad, 12.322–325. αξιον ἦν τοῖς ζῶσι τὸν απαντα χρόνον πενθεῖν τοὺς τεθνεῶτας (‘it would be proper for the living to mourn the dead for ever’), i.e. because they themselves (qua hypothetical immortals) would have avoided death: an unreal hypothesis, because in fact death will come to them anyway, so what matters is a good death. §79. οἵτινες ὑπὲρ µεγίστων καὶ καλλίστων κινδυνεύσαντες οὕτω τὸν βίον ἐτελεύτησαν (‘those who died like this after running dangers on behalf of that which is greatest and most glorious’).85 It is not clear whether the prepositional phrase refers to people or things, let alone whether it signiﬁes the polis, glory, duty, or their next-of-kin. καὶ γάρ τοι ἀγήρατοι µὲν αὐτῶν αἱ µνῆµαι, ζηλωταὶ δὲ ὑπὸ πάντων ἀνθρώπων αἱ τιµαί (‘their memory will never grow old, and their glory is envied by all men’). The nearest we get to immortality in the funeral speeches is an immortality of memory, reminiscent of Thuc. 2.43.2–3. §80. ὑµνοῦνται δὲ ὡς ἀθάνατοι διὰ τὴν ἀρετήν (‘are praised like immortals on account of their bravery’). Cf. §3n.

85 Despite its lacunas, the PSI papyrus has some importance as an independent textual witness here: Albini (1955: 337) notes that its word-order must have been οHτω τελε$τησαν τ ν βον, and adds that the spacing makes it likely that the papyrus did not contain the words κα καλλστων.

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καὶ γάρ τοι θάπτονται δηµοσίᾳ (‘for in fact they have a state funeral’). There is surprisingly little explicit reference to this throughout the speech, though we have had public burial and mourning at §66 and public commemoration at §61. καὶ ἀγῶνες τίθενται ἐπ’ αὐτοῖς ῥώµης καὶ σοϕίας καὶ πλούτου (‘moreover, contests of strength, wisdom, and wealth are celebrated in their honour’). The evidence for the ago¯n epitaphios (funeral games) is collected by Clairmont (1983: 22–28) and by Pritchett (1971–91.iv: 106–109), the latter noting that it receives no direct mention in Thucydides’ account of the ceremony.86 There is some support in the archaeological record (Knigge 1991: 158 notes the existence of post-holes, and suggests that these may have been for temporary wooden grandstands from which competitions could be watched); Pl. Menex. 249b5–6, implies that the games included gymnastic, equestrian and musical events, and P. J. Wilson (2000: 44 n. 183) suggests that the mention of wealth in the present passage tends to suggest liturgical support for epitaphia. In addition, though this is not explicitly tied to the same occasion, a list of the Polemarkh’s annual duties includes enagismata (offerings to the dead) for the tyrannicides and for those killed in war (Ath.Pol. 58.1). ὡς ἀξίους ὄντας τοὺς ἐν τῷ πολέµῳ τετελευτηκότας ταῖς αὐταῖς τιµαῖς καὶ τοὺς ἀθανάτους τιµᾶσθαι (‘because those who have died in war deserve to be honoured with the same dignities as the immortals’). Slightly more explicit than the opening sentence of §80. Given that one of the functions of the public funeral ceremony seems to have been to ensure that those buried received continuing cult-honours (see p. 150 above), it is interesting that the word athanatoi (‘immortals’, normally associated with the gods) is used throughout the speech in preference to he¯ro¯es. §81. καὶ µόνοις τούτοις ἀνθρώπων οἶµαι κρεῖττον εἶναι γενέσθαι (‘these are the only men for whom I think it better that they have been born’). For the sentiment, cf. Soph. Oed.Col. 1224–1225. ὅµως δ’ ἀνάγκη τοῖς ἀρχαίοις ἔθεσι χρῆσθαι, καὶ θεραπεύοντας τὸν πάτριον νόµον ὀλοϕύρεσθαι τοὺς θαπτοµένους (‘all the same, ancient precedents deserve to be copied: let us therefore follow ancestral custom, and mourn for those who are being buried here’). A surprisingly rapid conclusion, which to the modern ear risks a certain banality, though patrios nomos (ancestral custom/law) plays an important part in Thucydides’ funeral speech.87 Ziolkowski (1981: 169) notes that there is no formal dismissal here, as there is in the other fully preserved funeral 86 In the course of an extensive discussion of Thucydides’ tendency to play down religious matters throughout his history, however, Hornblower (1992: 171) notes that Perikles’ speech is made to close with a striking series of competitive metaphors (stephanon, ago¯no¯n, athla, all used at 2.46.1 to describe public maintenance of war-orphans), suggesting that Thucydides’ failure to mention the games is deliberate suppression. 87 Thucydides introduces his account of the ceremony with the words ‘following their patrios nomos’ (presumably ‘custom’, 2.34.1), and the opening and conclusion of his speech allude to the nomos which regulates the ceremony (presumably ‘law’, at 2.35.1 and 2.46.1).

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speeches. Indeed, the implication of Lysias’ words would seem to be that the relatives are expected to remain and mourn together, which looks like a deliberate reaction to Thucydides’ equally rapid and rather disparaging closure.88 Thuc. 2.46.1: ν'ν δ& α2πολοφυρα´µενοι tν προσκει /κα´στ α%πιτε, which seems to me to be rather more confrontational than is suggested by either the Loeb translation (‘And now that you have brought to a close your lamentations for your relatives, you may depart’) or by the Penguin (‘And now, when you have mourned for your dear ones, you must depart’). I would suggest something closer to ‘And now, having mourned as is ﬁtting for each , you are to depart’. 88

Lysias 3 Against Simon: Defence Speech Introduction I. PEOPLE, PLACES, AND TIMING Lys. 3 and Lys. 4 form a pair of speeches dealing with drunken violence in the context of love-quarrels among members of the Athenian élite.1 Of the two, this is by far the more vivid, both because Lys. 4 is incomplete but also because Lys. 3 contains an extensive and lively narrative of the different stages of the dispute, and much more circumstantial detail. Despite the lack of attested interest from ancient readers,2 therefore, it is not surprising that this is one of the few speeches of which Lysias’ authorship seems never to have been doubted.3 In addition to the three main participants—Simon the prosecutor, the speaker who is the defendant, and Theodotos the live-in rent-boy who is the object of their struggle, each of whom will be discussed below—we are introduced by name to seven other participants in the narrative. Four of these are friends and companions of Simon: Aristokritos, who gets hit by a stone allegedly thrown by Simon in the ﬁrst ﬁght (§8); and Theophilos, Protarkhos, and Autokles, who allegedly assist in his subsequent attempt to abduct Theodotos (§12). Only one 1 Both speeches deal with the same offence (trauma ek pronoias or ‘wounding with intent’, on which see pp. 281–284 below), but there are similarities also of content, situation and forensic strategy (these are discussed in more detail at pp. 347–349 below, where I seek to rebut the view that the second speech should therefore be seen as a rhetorical exercise based on this one). The tendency especially in the ﬁrst part of the corpus for speeches to be grouped together on the basis of legal procedure is discussed at pp. 21–22 with n. 83 above, where it is, however, noted that the fragmentary Prosecution of Lysitheos for trauma ek pronoias (Lys. frag. sp. XCVII) appears to have dealt with a very different type of attempted murder case. 2 No ancient testimonia refer deﬁnitely to this speech (though the same is true for several other speeches of equivalent scale and with a comparably high modern reputation, such as Lys. 19, Lys. 25, and Lys. 31). A fragmentary lexicon published by Reitzenstein (1892–93: 7) cites the aorist passive inﬁnitive sunkope¯nai as being found in Lysias and Hypereides, and glosses it as ‘to receive many blows’; Reitzenstein suggests a reference to Lys. 3.34 (passive inﬁnitive, albeit future: the word is found also in the active at 3.16 and 3.39, and nowhere else in the Lysianic corpus), which is possible, but it could be from a lost speech. 3 Of the speeches in this volume, Lys. 1 and Lys. 3 are the only ones for which Darkow (1917: 10 n. 15) could ﬁnd no attacks on authorship even from 19th-cent. scholars.

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of the seven is identiﬁed as a friend of the speaker: this is Lysimakhos, who helps him by providing Theodotos with accommodation (§§11–12). Molon and Lampon, on the other hand, are represented as neutral points of reference:4 the latter is the owner of the house outside which the ﬁnal stage of ﬁghting takes place (§17), whereas the former is himself attacked after Theodotos runs into his shop while trying to evade his pursuers (§§15–16). Given the number of named individuals who take part in the action, it is perhaps ironic that only one person in this speech can be externally identiﬁed with any likelihood, and that is Lakhes (PA 9012), who features not in the narrative but in a self-consciously irrelevant anecdote about Simon’s military insubordination at §45; Kirchner plausibly suggested that this could be the Lakhes (of the deme Aixone, PA 9017) whose honourable public record is contrasted with that of his son Melanopos in Dem. 24.127.5 Lakhes’ appearance at Lys. 3.45 identiﬁes him as Taxiarkh (tribal commander of hoplites) in charge of those left behind at Corinth at the time of the Koroneia expedition in summer 394.6 This furnishes the only absolute chronological pointer in the speech, though there are some internal indications of the passage of time: an unspeciﬁed period spent abroad at §10 following Simon’s alleged attack on the speaker’s house, and a four-year delay at §§19–20 (restated at §39) between the second ﬁght and the trial. All we can say for certain, however, is that events have been going on for at least four years, and that the trial is no earlier than 394, but probably not more than a few years after that date.7 One of the striking features of this speech is the extensive connection between names and places, particularly during the core narrative at §§11–20. As the ﬁghting progresses through the streets, many of the geographical markers are identiﬁed by property-holder: inside and outside the house of Lysimakhos and the one rented by Simon (§§11–12), in the fuller’s shop apparently belonging to Molon (§§15–16), and opposite Lampon’s house (§17). For the modern audience, of course, just as the names are simply names, so too the locations are largely irrecoverable: all we can say is that Lysimakhos’ house is evidently not in Peiraieus,8 that it is apparently close to the one rented by Simon,9 and that the 4 Note however the suggestion of Vianello de Córdova (1990b: 19) that these two were among the speaker’s witnesses and are represented as neutrals for this reason. 5 For fuller discussion of Lakhes’ family tree, see §45n. 6 The way that the anecdote is narrated encourages us to see Simon as having attacked his own commanding ofﬁcer, which would imply certainly that he is of hoplite status (for which cf. p. 279 below) and perhaps also that he belongs to Lakhes’ tribe (VII Kekropis), though the account of the Koroneia campaign at Lys. 16.16 implies that only some of the ten Taxiarkhs will still have been at Corinth when Simon arrived, and it is possible that one of these could have been deputising for an absent colleague. 7 The anecdote about Lakhes shows no defensiveness about raking up the distant past, in the way that it is defensive about its irrelevance. The speaker’s travels abroad cannot in my view be used to pin down the chronology more precisely, for reasons discussed at §10n. 8 Athens itself (as the other substantial built-up area in Attica) is the most likely location, cf. §11n uχ*µην ε Πειραια˜. 9 The signiﬁcance of this point is discussed at §11n t kκει πλησον τ8 οκα.

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speaker can plausibly specify the distance of Simon’s pursuit from one location in the narrative to another (see §27n). It would be interesting to know—but unfortunately we have no way of telling—how far the original audience would have been familiar with the individuals concerned, and what impact this might have had on their perception not simply of the behaviour of those involved, but also of the location of their properties: how far, in other words, was Lysias constructing a topography for his audience, and how far was he manipulating one which was already familiar to them?10

II. SIMON, THEODOTOS, AND THE SPEAKER The three main actors in the narrative are Simon, Theodotos, and the speaker. None of these is independently attested (as often, we do not even know the speaker’s name), but in each case a fair amount can be inferred from the details presented in the speech itself. Key to understanding the interactions between them are the differences of wealth, status, and age. Theodotos, for instance, is clearly young at the time of the trial, and even more so at the time of his attempted abduction four years previously. On three occasions he is described as neaniskos (‘young man’), and once evidently for special reasons as paidion (‘child’),11 but otherwise he is referred to consistently throughout the speech as meirakion, a word for which there is no convenient English equivalent, but which broadly denotes a male in his later teens.12 The word meirakion is used with some frequency in the Orators, but with very uneven distribution: more than half of its appearances occur in two speeches, 10 Feraboli (1980: 54–55), for instance, offers a reading in which vividness and clarity are by no means the same, arguing that the confusion of location in the narrative is as deliberate as the confusion of time. 11 Neaniskos at §10 and twice at §17: elsewhere in Lysias it is used to denote the adulterer Eratosthenes (age unknown) at 1.37; and also the sons of Diodotos at 32.19 and Theozotides’ war-orphans at frag. 129 line 33, both in a context closely related to their coming-of-age, which in Athens took place either at age 18 or in the 18th year. For the use of paidion, see §33n. For both terms, see also the discussion of Pseudo-Hippokrates in the following footnote. If Theodotos is a full Athenian citizen (see pp. 279–281 below), then Simon’s alleged claim to have entered into a sexual services contract could be read as implying that he was adult at the time, but see in more detail §22n. 12 Translating the term meirakion is difﬁcult: ‘youth’ is the language of the police court, ‘adolescent’ carries connotations of a psychiatrist’s report, and ‘lad’ is either archaism or dialect: faute de mieux, I have used the translation ‘young man’ to render both meirakion and neaniskos, identifying the latter only in the Commentary. P. Perlman (1983: 130) cites Pseudo-Hippokrates, On Sevens, §5, which claims that paidion denotes ages up to 7, meirakion ages 15–21, and neaniskos ages 22–28, but this sounds very schematic. Davidson (2006: 45–47 with 49–50), by contrast, uses a range of speciﬁcally Athenian material to argue that both meirakion and neaniskos—the latter term in his view covering the same age-group but with more élite social connotations—denote young adults, in contrast with pais (‘boy’, i.e. one who is still a minor). The danger of over-mechanistic readings of age-terminology, however, is emphasised by Buxton (1994: 24 n. 32), and it is possible that these terms, like ‘boy’ and esp. ‘girl’ in modern usage, have a variety of potentially contentious age-meanings.

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Lys. 3 and Aiskhin. 1,13 which between them provide our best law-court evidence for homosexual relationships at Athens.14 The use of the word in these two speeches highlights the age-differential which was one of the characteristics of such relationships at Athens, where the ideal type was that of an aristocratic rite of passage, with each generation’s ero¯menos (late teens or perhaps early twenties) becoming the next generation’s eraste¯s (twenties or perhaps early thirties).15 Part of the speaker’s difﬁculty, indeed, is precisely that he seems to have transgressed this social code: he is clearly an older man, and it is perhaps signiﬁcant that he appears to be unmarried at an age where this was evidently unusual (§6n); he depicts himself as being embarrassed at having to recount in public not only his involvement in street-ﬁghting with Simon,16 but also his erotic involvement with Theodotos, which he evidently fears will make him appear ridiculous, and which he himself describes as being ‘rather foolish for my age’ (§4). The implication is that Simon is signiﬁcantly closer to the age appropriate for an eraste¯s, which incidentally allows Lysias to tar him with the hubris that in Greek social theory was characteristic of young men17—without however making this age differential explicit, since to do so would risk making Simon’s attitude towards Theodotos appear less transgressive than that of the speaker. Equally important are the differences of wealth and status. The speaker is clearly an Athenian citizen wealthy enough to have undertaken liturgies (§47n), even if he has apparently attempted to avoid the most recent of these (§20n). Carey (1989: 87) suggests that his ability to take Theodotos away from Athens (§10) may imply involvement in trade, but I suspect all we can infer with

13 Out of 59 appearances in the Orators, 14 are in Aiskhin. 1, and 17 in Lys. 3. (Of the remaining 28 occurrences, 11 are in Antiphon’s Second Tetralogy, where it serves repeatedly to denote the javelin-thrower). 14 The bibliography on Athenian homosexuality is extensive: see in particular Dover (1978: 19–109), arguing for a model of sexuality in which penetration is ideologically an expression of adult male citizen power, such that it is transgressive for a citizen to allow himself to be penetrated; and Davidson (1997: 167–182), for whom what characterises transgressive sexuality is a discourse of excess and the lack of self-control. For a wide-ranging survey of this and other related debates, see Fisher (2001: 25–53). From a legal perspective, homosexual activities as such were not criminal (except when this involved the procuring of a citizen minor for prostitution, of which there may be a hint at §22, cf. p. 281 below). What was problematic, in Athenian eyes, was the receiving of payment for sex: although this was not in itself a punishable offence, it nevertheless resulted in lifelong disqualiﬁcation from the active exercise of citizen rights (e.g. the right to address the Assembly), even after the person concerned had ceased to function as a prostitute. 15 On homosexuality at Athens as a rite of passage, see Golden (1984). The tendency towards age-coding should not be over-emphasised, but to my mind the present speech suggests that it can be regarded as applying not just to the ero¯menos but also to the eraste¯s: see §4n. For the rarity of the words eraste¯s and particularly ero¯menos in the Orators, see §5n. 16 His strategy throughout the speech, as we shall see, is to represent the ﬁghting as something in which both sides were equally implicated (e.g. §18), but which he had sought consistently to avoid (§§9–10, §13, §32): had he been a younger man, he might have been more keen to avoid the imputation of cowardice. 17 Hubris as characteristic of the young: Aristot. Rhet. 2. 12. 15 = 1389b7, with Fisher (1992: 19–21, and cf. 97–99).

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conﬁdence from this passage is that he is rich enough to have others managing his affairs. There are hints (e.g. at §9) of at least some level of involvement in public life, but this need not imply a full-time political career. Simon, on the other hand, is evidently also an Athenian citizen, but not as wealthy as the speaker. The latter indeed claims that Simon had valued his total property at only 250 drachmas, but it is hard to know what to make of this, partly because it is difﬁcult to envisage a context for such a valuation (see §24n), but also because it is presented by Lysias as being in outrageous contradiction with Simon’s other ﬁnancial claim, that he had paid 300 drachmas for Theodotos’ services (albeit for an unspeciﬁed period, §22). This may suggest that the 250 drachmas is an understatement, and it is worth noting the possible inference at §45 that Lakhes the Taxiarkh was Simon’s commanding ofﬁcer, which would make Simon himself a hoplite.18 We do not of course know to what extent Simon (as opposed to the speaker’s portrayal of him) was seeking to play down his wealth, but what is clear is that there is deliberate choice on Lysias’ part to construct or acquiesce in such a ﬁction, despite the risk that it would allow Simon to deploy a counter-rhetoric of hubris against his wealthier client.19 In the case of Theodotos, it is his legal status that is difﬁcult to determine. He is introduced at §5 as being from Plataia: an unnecessary and therefore emphatic detail, which at ﬁrst sight would suggest that he is a naturalised Athenian citizen.20 This hypothesis is accepted by some scholars, and if correct it would give us a clear case of a citizen for whom the loss of civic rights did not constitute a deterrent from prostitution.21 However, it creates major difﬁculties at §33, where the speaker appears to envisage that Theodotos could have been required to give 18 For this reading of the Lakhes anecdote, see p. 276 n. 6 above. The ﬁgure traditionally accepted for the minimum hoplite census is 2,000 drachmas (based on the assumption that the 322 disfranchisement of those below this level was designed to create a hoplite franchise: thus e.g. A. H. M. Jones 1957: 31 with n. 50). Van Wees (2004: 55), who accepts that the typical hoplite will have been worth 2,000–3,000 drachmas, nevertheless uses the example of Sokrates to argue that ‘poorer men would get themselves a shield and spear if they had the chance’. The proposition that what made you a hoplite was your ability to turn up on the day with the appropriate equipment is not unreasonable, though the example of Sokrates is inconclusive: the evidence for his assets being worth no more than 500 drachmas is Xen. Oikon. 2.3, and Pomeroy (1994: 223–224) notes the possibility that he had become impoverished in the period since his last known hoplite service at Delion in 424. For the uncertainties involved in calculating from Thucydides’ ﬁgures for absolute numbers, see Van Wees (2004: 241–243), who himself accepts a total ﬁgure of 23,700 hoplites and 1,000 cavalry in 431, and who notes that these make up c.40 per cent of Hansen’s estimate of 60,000 adult male citizens at peak ﬁfth-century ﬁgures. 19 For the use of such rhetoric, see e.g. Isok. 20 (cf. the emphasis at 20.19 on the speaker’s own poverty and by implication his assailant’s wealth), with Fisher (1992: 51–52). 20 Following the sack of Plataia in 427, and in recognition for the rôle that Plataia had played as ally of Athens particularly at Marathon in 490, its citizens were offered Athenian citizenship (cf. below for details), which they retained certainly until the re-foundation of the city in 386, and it is unlikely that the speech is later than this date. Athenian citizenship is certainly claimed by the other soi-disant Plataian in the corpus of Lysias (Pankleon in Lys. 23). 21 This is how the case is read by e.g. E. E. Cohen (2000b: 128 n. 63), and more fully (2000a: 168–170). For the loss of civic rights, see p. 278 n. 14 above.

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evidence under torture. Torture was something from which citizens certainly and free non-citizens usually were exempt, but which was regarded as the only appropriate way to receive the evidence of slaves.22 In view of this, the majority of scholars have suggested that instead of being a citizen he may instead be simply a slave,23 but this alternative hypothesis is if anything even more problematic, because we hear nothing about possible intervention by a putative master in his affairs. For instance, Simon claims to have paid his 300 drachmas not to Theodotos’ master, but on the basis of an agreement with Theodotos himself (§22);24 and for security reasons it is hard to imagine that a putative owner would have acquiesced in the speaker’s taking him away from Athens (§11). A minority of scholars, on the other hand, have preferred to view Theodotos as less than a full citizen but nevertheless free. Unless one is prepared to take the extreme view that the reference to his being Plataian is simply a lie, this entails postulating the existence of a subgroup of Plataians who for some reason did not avail themselves of Athenian citizenship, but remained instead as metics.25 E. E. Cohen (2000b: 128 n. 63, and more fully 2000a: 170) objects that this putative underclass is simply an invention by modern scholars supported by no direct evidence, but its existence can be plausibly inferred from the Plataian enfranchisement decree as quoted by Apollodoros in Dem. 59.104. The consensus of scholars accepts this text as a genuine if incomplete version of the decree of 427,26 and the decree itself insists that the beneﬁciaries are to be registered as 22 Torture could be imposed on free non-Athenians in treason procedures, but almost certainly not in cases of trauma ek pronoias; and attempts to argue either that the passage in question does not refer to Theodotos, or that it does not refer to torture, involve what in my view are improbable contortions (see generally §33n). 23 Thus, with varying degrees of tentativeness, Lamb (1930: 70), Fernández-Galiano (1953: 71 n. xiv), Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924–26].i: 66 n. 2 and 74 n. 2), Turasiewicz (1963: 68–69), Scodel (1986: 18), and Carey (1988: 242–243; 1989: 87; 1997: 83). Vianello de Córdova (1990b: 12 n. 8) even suggests that he may be the slave of Simon, which is intriguing but far-fetched. 24 I am not persuaded by the claim of E. E. Cohen (2000c: 115) that Athenian law allowed slaves to enter into contracts irrespective of status (though Cohen himself, as will be seen, believes Theodotos to have possessed full citizen rights). Carey (1988: 243) suggests against Bushala (see following footnote) that Theodotos could be kho¯ris oiko¯n (permitted to work for hire, paying a ﬁxed rental to the master and retaining the surplus), but such slaves are typically craftsmen: in the case of slaves deployed for sexual purposes (where there are issues of security and of depreciation), we might expect the sorts of arrangement made by Nikarete over Neaira (Dem. 59.21, 29) or by Athenogenes over the son of Midas (Hyp. Athenog. §§4–6), where the owner takes personal charge of renting out the slaves’ services or (if the price is high enough) selling them. 25 Simply a lie on Lysias’ part: Francken (1865: 31). Plataian but not citizen: Freeman (1963 [1946]: 97), though without discussing the naturalisation. Free but not citizen: Lipsius (brieﬂy asserted at 1905–15: 895 with n. 122, cf. further §33n). The existence of non-Athenian Plataians is suggested by Fisher (1976: 54), who however regards the evidence as insufﬁcient to determine Theodotos’ status, and in more detail by Bushala (1968: 63–68) and by Dover (1978: 32–33), though I am unconvinced by the latter’s hint that the speech should be located after the restoration of Plataia in 386. 26 The arguments of M. J. Osborne (1981–83.ii: 13–14) in favour of the authenticity of the decree are accepted by Trevett (1992: 188–189) and Kapparis, though I doubt the latter’s inference that the decree constituted a comprehensive grant to ‘all surviving pro-Athenian Plataeans’ (Kapparis 1995a: 376). In particular, Osborne notes the existence of clauses about assignation to demes and tribes,

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such, evidently in a fairly short space of time, after which no further Plataian will be allowed to claim enfranchisement on this basis. This clause presumably reﬂects an understandable reluctance to sign a blank cheque, but it does provide a context in which there might have been Plataians at Athens in the 390s whose fathers or grandfathers had failed to regularise their claim to citizenship. Of these various hypotheses, none is without problems. Not all of these are of equal force, but in my view the arguments (as summarised above) against Theodotos’ being either a slave or a citizen are the most difﬁcult to accommodate. By contrast, the hypothesis that he is a free non-citizen seems to me to raise lesser problems, and it is tempting to add that some of the difﬁculties of interpretation may arise not simply because Theodotos’ status could itself have been unclear,27 but also and precisely because Lysias could be deliberately muddling the issue. To portray Theodotos as a (possibly under-age, cf. §22n) Plataian allows Lysias to hint that Simon’s use of money might constitute illegal procuring of a citizen minor for prostitution, while at the same time attempting to locate the speaker’s relationship with a putative citizen within a more respectable nexus of aristocratic homosexuality based on gifts and favours. The language of §33, on the other hand (see §33nn παιδον as well as βασανιζ*µενον), enables him both to exaggerate Theodotos’ dependence on his client and to play down any part that he might have had in the ﬁght, while at the same time buying into a rhetoric of natural enmity between master and slave which serves to make Simon’s version of this episode appear ridiculous (see §33n µην'σαι).

III. THE LAW DEALING WITH THE DISPUTE Lys. 3 is a case of trauma ek pronoias, a term which is most conveniently rendered ‘wounding with intent’, though there is (as we shall see) dispute over the precise signiﬁcance of both nouns, and also over whether the procedure was public or private. Indeed, almost the only undisputed points are that such cases were tried not by an ordinary dikastic court, but by the Council of the Areiopagos (hence the address o¯ boule¯ in §1, etc.);28 and that they were subject to many of the same which could not simply have been reconstructed from Apollodoros’ discussion, and which are unlikely to have been the work of a later forger since they are not found in the standard individual grants of later periods. The lack of a close match between Apollodoros’ text and his discussion tends to support the reliability of those inferences that can be drawn from the former, though not from the latter. 27 I have suggested elsewhere (Todd 1994) that the legal status of individuals could afford to remain ill-deﬁned except in situations where the person concerned had to be recorded in an ofﬁcial document or where it was in the interests of a rival litigant to force the issue. 28 For the jurisdiction of the Areiopagos in such cases, see Ath.Pol. 57.3. Wallace (1989: 124) notes that Lys. 3 and the incomplete Lys. 4 (also trauma ek pronoias) are among surprisingly few Areiopagos speeches in the Orators, the only other deﬁnite and complete one being Lys. 7 (though Gagarin 1990: 94 argues that Ant. 1 will have been delivered there also).

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procedural rules that applied either to homicide cases or to cases heard by the Areiopagos. The rule against irrelevance, for instance, which Lysias plays with at §§45–46, is attested elsewhere as a particular characteristic of the Areiopagos,29 while the ‘great and serious’ dio¯mosia oath referred to at §1 (cf. also §4) is peculiar to homicide trials.30 It is probably safe to infer that some at least of the other rules characteristic of homicide law applied to trauma ek pronoias cases also: for instance, the rule that a trial must be preceded by three successive preliminary hearings;31 and possibly also the rule that each litigant spoke not once but twice before the court voted to deliver its verdict, with the defendant being permitted to withdraw from the case and go into voluntary exile after the ﬁrst set of speeches.32 Since the Areiopagos was made up of former members of the college of Nine Arkhons (possibly including serving Arkhons also, cf. 7.22n), we have some idea of its size, although its social composition is harder to determine.33 It is generally agreed that members of the Areiopagos will have developed some experience in judging homicide cases, since this was the only court with a permanent membership, and speakers were certainly expected to show greater deference than to other courts (see §2n), but as noted at p. 45 n. 12 above, I have doubts over the model put forward by Carawan (1998), which would see the prodikasiai giving rise to uniquely sophisticated juristic thinking in the area of homicide law. Precisely what distinguished trauma ek pronoias from other forms of assault (e.g. the dike¯ aikeias or graphe¯ hubreo¯s) is nowhere explicitly stated, though there is a hint at §28 that possession of a weapon—even an informal weapon like

29 Some relevance criteria are attested for other courts (e.g. Ath.Pol. 67.1, where the context relates to private trials and Rhodes 1981: 718–719 considers the possibility of wider application), but Aristot. Rhet. 1.1.5 = 1354a23 makes clear that this was seen as a peculiar characteristic of the Areiopagos, for which cf. also Ant. 5.11; and Lanni (2005: 124–125) observes that speakers in other courts seem much less concerned to justify the introduction of potentially extraneous material. For the difﬁculties of implementing rules against irrelevance, see 9.1n. 30 For details of the dio¯mosia, see 4.4n: it was sworn by witnesses as well as by litigants, whereas in other trials witnesses were normally unsworn and the anto¯mosia was sworn by litigants alone. 31 The Basileus had to hold three prodikasiai in successive months within his arkhon-year: Ant. 6.42. 32 At least in cases involving the deliberate killing of a citizen, for which the penalty was death, though in cases of trauma ek pronoias the penalty seems to be exile with conﬁscation of property (Lys. 6.15, Dem. 40.32, and cf. in the present speech §38n, with §40 and §47). It has been suggested that Lys. 4 derives from the second rather than the ﬁrst round of speeches (Wallace 1989: 124; cf. Lys. 4.12n). 33 Size of Areiopagos: ‘somewhat more than 200’ according to Wallace (1989: 96–97), though the more detailed demographic argument of Hansen & Pedersen (1990: 75) regards the likely parameters as being 145–175. Social composition is discussed brieﬂy in Hansen & Pedersen (1990: 76–77), who list what little is known about the very few identiﬁable fourth-century individuals known to have held one of the nine arkhonships, but almost the only datum is the rule (which may by this period have been neglected for at least some ofﬁces, cf. Ath.Pol. 47.1) that continued at least in theory to exclude the thetes.

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pottery (for which cf. also Lys. 4.6)34—may have been regarded as an important criterion. The term pronoia (lit. ‘previous knowledge’) plays a major rôle in Athenian classiﬁcations of homicide, for instance in the opening clause of the 409 bc inscription recording the homicide law attributed to Drakon (IG i3, 104.11), but there is dispute among scholars over whether the absence of pronoia is or is not the same as the proposition found in the same inscription that a killer may be ako¯n (lit. ‘not willing’, line 17, in contrast to heko¯n, ‘willing’). Scholars have traditionally distinguished the two, arguing that killings may be intentional without being premeditated in our terms (thus e.g. Stroud 1968: 40–41). Loomis (1972), however, has argued that Athenians viewed the two distinctions as synonymous, such that pronoia denoted broadly ‘harmful intent’ rather than premeditation; this view has won signiﬁcant support, though there have more recently been moves to reinstate the emphasis on prior purpose.35 Certainly the speaker’s view in the present case is that trauma ek pronoias is meant for cases where what is intended is not simply wounding but killing (§41). This is hardly an impartial statement, since it enables him to argue that Simon has used an inappropriate procedure, and some scholars have therefore refused to accept it as evidence.36 It is supported, however, as Carey (1989: 109) notes, by the fact that the client in the following speech argues in a way that would carry weight only if he is being charged with attempting to kill rather than simply attempting to wound (Lys. 4.5–7). Indeed, as Hansen (1981: 14–15) points out, the fact that several texts (Dem. 23.22; Ath. Pol. 39.5, 57.3) speak as if trauma was a subset of phonos (‘homicide’) may indicate that the word trauma itself denotes not simply ‘wounding’ but ‘attempted killing’. Scholars have traditionally assumed that cases of trauma ek pronoias were brought by means of a private dike¯ (thus e.g. Lipsius 1905–15: 605–607), on the basis of the procedural parallels with homicide. Hansen, however, has argued for the existence of a public graphe¯ traumatos ek pronoias available to any citizen, on the basis of four passages in the Orators which use the graphe¯ terminology about such cases,37 and this view has generally been accepted, though there is no such consensus about his inference that there must therefore have existed a parallel 34 Dem. 54.18 implies similarly that use of a stone in a ﬁght would move the case up in seriousness from dike¯ aikeias to graphe¯ traumatos. Injury to certain parts of the body, such as the face, may have been a further criterion, as noted at §8n. Carey (2004b: 119 with n. 22) explores an unpublished suggestion by E. M. Harris that the existence of an open wound might be relevant also, which is attractive given the semantic ﬁeld of phonos (homicide/shed blood). For the possibility however that these were informal rather than statutorily-deﬁned criteria, see §41n. 35 Loomis’ interpretation is followed by MacDowell (1978: 115), Gagarin (1981: 31–37), and Sealey (1983: 277–278), though objections have been put forward by Wallace (1989: 98–99) and by Carawan (1998: 223–225). 36 e.g. MacDowell (1978: 123–124), who draws attention to the claim at Dem. 54.17–19 that the function of trauma ek pronoias cases is to deter those involved in a quarrel from killing each other, from which he infers that pronoia cannot necessarily signify intent to kill, but to my mind this could be a sequence of increasingly violent actions rather than increasingly murderous intent. 37 Hansen (1976: 108–110), restated and developed in Hansen (1983d). The passages are Dem. 54.18; Aiskhin. 2.93, 3.51, and 3.212.

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graphe¯ phonou.38 Some subsequent scholars have indeed suggested that only the graphe¯ procedure was available in cases of wounding with intent (MacDowell 1978: 124), and that the present case must therefore be a graphe¯ (Carey, 1989: 109, restated in 1997: 75). Like Hansen, however, I would now prefer to envisage the coexistence both of graphe¯ and of dike¯ procedures for dealing with trauma ek pronoias, and indeed would tentatively identify the present case as a dike¯.39 The impact of the question on the present speech is fairly limited—prosecutors in at least certain public cases seem to have faced penalties if they withdrew the charge or failed to win at least one-ﬁfth of the votes (though see E. M. Harris 1999)— though it does have broader implications for the structure of Athenian legal procedure.40

IV. FORENSIC STRATEGY The keys to Lysias’ strategy in this speech lie in the portrayal of character and in the construction of the narrative. The two cannot be wholly separated, because it is through the narrative that we see developed the initial antithesis between the speaker and his opponent: the proem claims that the prosecutor has consistently sought trouble and the speaker has consistently sought to avoid it, but as Carey points out, this assertion is developed in the narrative with repeated acts of aggression attributed to Simon and repeated attempts at avoidance by the speaker.41 The speaker’s character is not ﬂawless, but as often in Lysias the ﬂaw is venial, and serves to render his character more credible, in this case through the studied embarrassment with which he treats his relationship with Theodotos (§4) and the implicit admission of cowardice revealed when he takes the opportunity of Theodotos’ expected escape to go off in another direction (§13).42 It is characterisation which serves as the basis of a probability-argument that runs implicitly throughout the speech: given the characters of the two protagonists as portrayed, 38

For objections, see e.g. Gagarin (1979) with Hansen’s response (Hansen 1981). The two reasons for believing this are, ﬁrst, that Ath.Pol. 57.3 introduces the various cases heard by the Areiopagos as dikai, and second—as noted by Hansen (1981: 17 n. 12)—that the indictment at Lys. 3.1 is described as enkle¯ma (a term which seems normally to have been restricted to private cases, as at 10.23n). Admittedly neither argument is conclusive, since each of them could individually be a loose use of language (dike¯ is sometimes used in a broad sense to include graphai, and the use of enkle¯ma in public litigation is attested at 9.3n), but it seems less likely that they both are. 40 It might for instance call into question the widespread assumption that the well-attested coexistence both of a graphe¯ and of a dike¯ klope¯s is an exceptional instance which needs to be justiﬁed by positing a substantive difference between different forms of theft (e.g. embezzlement and theft from private sources). 41 Carey (1989: 89), noting §6, §7, §§11–12, §15–16 (Simon’s aggression) and §10, §13 (the speaker’s avoidance). For cowardice, see p. 278 n. 16 above. For the antithetical nature of the characterisation in this speech, see Usher (1999: 91): Theodotos, though an important ﬁgure as the object of the dispute, is not extensively characterised. 42 Devries (1892: 43–44) locates the speaker under the heading ‘the immoral man’; there are much more balanced analyses by Usher (1965: 105–6, cf. p. 101 on venial ﬂaws, and 1999: 91–93). 39

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is not the speaker’s version of events more likely to be true than that of his opponent? The use of circumstantial details to create narrative vividness has already been mentioned. Their overall function is presumably to render the narrative believable, or at least sufﬁciently so to drive out of the audience’s mind the implications of the alternative version which they will have heard from Simon as prosecutor immediately beforehand. As often in Lysias, the narrative at §§5–20 is far more memorable than the formal argument at §§21–45,43 though some of the narrative details are presumably intended to serve as the basis for arguments later in the speech. When Theodotos throws off his cloak during the struggle at §§12–13, for instance, this can be read in its own terms as a vivid or indeed comic narrative detail,44 but the evasive action taken here both by Theodotos and also by the speaker serves also to prepare the way for the argument at §35 that they cannot have been the aggressors: so blatantly so, indeed, that the narrative detail at §§12–13 becomes less irrelevant and therefore less believable precisely because it is too obviously in Lysias’ interests.45 More subtle, perhaps, and therefore more effective, is the argument at §27, where the topographical markers in the narrative (Simon’s house, Molon’s shop, Lampon’s house) are ﬁnally translated into a distance of 4 stadia: Simon’s ability to run this far in pursuit of the ﬂeeing Theodotos serves as a powerful rebuttal of his claim to have been seriously injured by the speaker at the start of the ﬁght in front of his house. One of the most important features of narrative in Lysias is to draw attention away from gaps and weaknesses in the speaker’s case. There are several of these, and they are not insigniﬁcant (see §11n, §18n, §25n, §28n). The overall narrative strategy, however, is to trivialise and to equalise: to make it appear that the injuries suffered by Simon are no worse than those experienced by the speaker, and certainly not sufﬁcient to justify such serious legal action; that Simon was at the very least equally responsible for the ﬁghting that had taken place, and certainly had not suffered improper provocation; and that the speaker’s behaviour, in contrast to that of his opponent, was normal or at least acceptable. It is this that makes the speech particularly valuable for the social historian, as evidence for the social codes which are being manipulated. Classical Athens was a society in which private individuals going through the streets are not supposed to carry formal weapons (Thuc. 1.6.1–3), which raises questions about codes of honour, and the relationship between reasonable and violent behaviour on the part of the protagonists.46 The absence of a modern police force to intervene in

43 Rebuttal of Simon’s version at §§21–34, support for speaker’s own version at §§35–39, general remarks at §§40–43, character-attack at §§44–45. 44 Vivid: Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924–26].i: 70 n. 5). Comic: Carey (1989: 89). 45 Similarly the claim in the narrative that nobody has prosecuted him in the four years since the second ﬁght (§19), where to my mind the force of the ‘strongest and clearest proof’ at §39 is somewhat weakened because it is rather too obvious that that is how this detail is going to be used. 46 Cf. the Herman/D. Cohen debate on civic violence and honour-codes, discussed at p. 51 n. 36 above.

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such incidents raises questions about what level of violence would be acceptable, and also about the part played by the bystanders: the gap between intervening to stop somebody getting beaten up and yourself joining in the brawl may be only a semantic distinction, and it is very much in the speaker’s interests to represent his own side as so much in the right that even the impartial bystander (and a fortiori the impartial member of the court) would support it.

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3 Against Simon: Defence Speech [1] I already knew many disreputable things about Simon, members of the council, but I did not expect him to reach such a level of audacity that he would bring a prosecution, pretending to be the victim in an episode for which he himself ought to be punished, and that he would appear before you after swearing the dio¯mosia, which is such a great and serious oath. [2] If it had been anybody else who was going to decide my case, I would have been very worried about the danger. I am aware that carefully prepared tricks and unlucky chances sometimes occur in such a way that wholly unexpected outcomes befall those on trial. However, I am conﬁdent that I shall receive justice, because it is before you that I am appearing. [3] I am particularly upset, members of the council, at being forced to speak about matters like this in front of you. I had put up with being mistreated, because I would have been ashamed if many people had known about my story. But given that Simon has put me under this pressure, I shall tell you the full story without concealing anything. [4] I do not expect to receive any mercy, members of the council, if I have done anything wrong. On the other hand, if I can show you that in this episode I am not guilty of any of the accusations which Simon has stated on oath, and if more generally I am seen to have behaved towards the young man in a manner that was rather foolish for my age, I shall ask you to think no worse of me. You know that desire is something that affects all mankind, and that the most honourable and self-controlled man is the one who can bear

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misfortunes most discreetly. It is this man Simon here who in my case has prevented all this, as I shall show you. [5] We were both attracted, members of the council, to Theodotos, a young man from Plataia. I was resolved to win him over by treating him properly. Simon, on the other hand, behaved in an arrogant and lawless fashion, and expected to force him to do what he himself wanted. It would be a lengthy task to recount all the mistreatment which that person suffered at his hands, but I think you should hear the offences which he committed against me personally. [6] He found out that the young man was staying with me, and arrived at my house at night, drunk. He knocked down the doors and made his way into the women’s rooms, while inside were my sister and my nieces, who have lived their lives so respectably that they are ashamed to be seen even by their own relatives. [7] This man, however, reached such a level of hubris that he refused to leave, until those who were present, together with those who had accompanied him, threw him out by force. They realised that by entering the house in the presence of young orphaned girls, he was behaving unacceptably. So far from being ashamed of this outrageous conduct, he found out where I was having dinner, and did something that was totally inappropriate and (to anybody who does not know his criminal insanity) unbelievable. [8] He called me out from inside the house, and as soon as I came, he immediately tried to hit me. When I defended myself, he moved off and tried to pelt me with stones. In the event, he missed me, but he did with one stone hit Aristokritos (who had come with him against me), and injured his face. [9] For my part, members of the council, I felt that I had been badly treated, but as I have already mentioned, I was embarrassed at my misfortune, and decided to put up with it. I chose not to bring an action over these offences, rather than to appear foolish to my fellow-citizens. I knew that what had happened would be seen as appropriate for a criminal like him, but that I would be laughed at for my misfortunes by many of those who are normally jealous of anybody who

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seeks to play a responsible rôle in the polis. [10] I was so unsure of how to react to his lawlessness, members of the council, that I decided it would be best for me to go away from the polis. So I took the young man—it is necessary to tell you the whole truth—and left the polis. When I thought that enough time had passed for Simon to have forgotten the young man and to be sorry for his earlier offences, I came back again. [11] I went to the Peiraieus, but this man immediately heard that Theodotos had returned and was staying with Lysimakhos, who was living close to the house which this man had rented, so he called on some of his friends to help him. They began eating and drinking, and set a look-out on the roof, so that when the young man came out they would be able to seize him. [12] It was at this moment that I arrived from Peiraieus, and because I was passing I called at Lysimakhos’ house. We spent a short time inside, and then came out. These men, who were by now drunk, jumped out on us. Some of those who were present with him refused to join in this criminal behaviour, but Simon here, together with Theophilos, Protarkhos, and Autokles, began dragging away the young man. He, however, threw off his cloak and ran away. [13] I calculated that he would escape, and that these men would give up the chase as soon as they happened to meet people, so with this in mind I went off by another route. You see how carefully I tried to avoid them, and regarded all their actions as a great misfortune for myself. [14] At the place where Simon claims that the battle occurred,

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therefore, nobody had his head broken or suffered any other injury, either on their side or on ours. I will produce those who were present as witnesses for you. WITNESSES [15] It has been testiﬁed by those who were present, members of the council, that this man was the one who was to blame and who plotted against me, rather than my doing so against him. After this, the young man ran into a fuller’s shop, but these men charged in together, and started to drag him off by force, although he was yelling and shouting and calling on people to be witnesses. [16] Lots of people rushed up, angry at what was happening, and said that it was disgraceful behaviour. However, they took no notice of what was said, but beat up Molon the fuller and several others who tried to protect him. [17] They were already opposite Lampon’s house when I happened to come across them, while I was walking along on my own. I realised that it would be a terrible and shameful thing to look on while the young man was suffering hubris so unlawfully and violently, so I grabbed hold of him. These men refused to respond when I asked why they were acting so illegally towards him. Instead, they let go of the young man and started hitting me. [18] A battle developed, members of the council. The young man was pelting them. He was defending his own life. They were pelting us. They were still hitting him, because they were drunk. I was defending myself. The passers-by were all helping us, because we were the ones who were being wronged. And in the course of this mêlée, we all got our heads broken. [19] As soon as they saw me after this episode, the rest of those who had joined in this man’s

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drunken misbehaviour asked my forgiveness—not as victims, but as those who had done wrong. Since then, four years have passed, and at no time has anybody brought a prosecution against me. [20] Simon here, who was the cause of the whole problem, kept the peace for a while because he was afraid on his own account. However, when he was aware that I had come off badly in private cases arising from an antidosis, he grew so recklessly contemptuous of me that he forced me to take part in the present dispute. To show that here too I am telling the truth, I shall produce those who were present as witnesses for you. WITNESSES [21] You have heard what happened, both from my lips and from the witnesses. For my part, members of the council, I would have wanted Simon to have the same attitude as me, so that you could easily have made a just decision after hearing both of us tell the truth. But because he pays no attention to the dio¯mosia which he has sworn, I shall try also to explain to you the ways in which this man has lied. [22] He has dared to claim that he himself gave Theodotos 300 drachmas, that he made an agreement with him, and that I turned the young man against him by means of a plot. But if this were true, he ought to have called as many supporting witnesses as possible and dealt with the matter according to the laws. [23] However, this man can be seen not to have done anything like that, but committed hubris, beat both of us up, took part in a ko¯mos, battered down the doors, and entered by night into the presence of free-born women. You should regard this in particular, members of the council, as evidence that he is lying to you. [24] See how what he says does not deserve to be believed: he has valued his own property in its entirety at 250 drachmas—but it would be incredible if he hired somebody to be his lover for more money than he actually

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possesses. [25] He has become so reckless that it was not enough for him simply to lie about having given the money, but he even claims to have recovered it. And yet how can it be plausible that at one moment we should have committed the type of offence of which he has accused us— the alleged plot to defraud him of 300 drachmas—but that after winning the ﬁght we should then have given the money back to him, when we had received no formal release from legal charges, and when there was no obligation on us to pay? [26] In fact, members of the council, the whole story has been devised and constructed by himself. He says that he gave the money, so that he would not be seen to be acting badly if without having had an agreement he dared to treat the young man with such hubris. He claims to have received it back, because it is clear that he never brought a prosecution to claim the money, and did not make any mention of it. [27] He alleges that he was beaten up by me in front of his own doors, and left in a terrible state. But it seems that he pursued the young man without suffering any ill-effects, for a distance of more than four stadia from his house. More than two hundred people saw him, but he denies it. [28] He says that we came to his house carrying pottery, and that I threatened to kill him—and that this constitutes “premeditation”. In my opinion, however, members of the council, it is easy not only for you (who are experienced in examining cases like this) but for everybody else to see that he is lying. [29] To whom could it appear credible that I premeditated and plotted and came to Simon’s house in daytime with the young man, when there were so many people gathered there? Unless of course I had reached such a level of insanity that I was passionate to ﬁght on my own against so many—particularly when I knew that he would be pleased to see me at his doors. Whereas actually he had visited my house and entered it

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by force, he had had the nerve to search for me with no consideration either for my sister or for my nieces, and after ﬁnding out where I happened to be dining, he had called me out and attacked me. [30] On that occasion, I sought to keep the peace so as not to become notorious, in the belief that his wickedness was my own misfortune. Can I really (as he claims) have developed a passion, after a time, to be notorious again? [31] If the young man had been living with him, there would have been a certain logic in his false claim that I had been compelled by passion to do something more stupid than is probable. As it is, however, he was not even on speaking terms with this man, but hated him most of all mankind, and was living with me instead. [32] To which of you, therefore, does it appear credible that at ﬁrst I sailed away from the polis taking the young man with me so as to avoid ﬁghting with this man, but that when I came back I took him to Simon’s house, where I could expect to have the greatest difﬁculties? [33] And is it credible that I was plotting against him, given that I arrived like this unprepared, so that I could not call on any friends or slaves or anybody else for help—with the exception of this child, who would not have been able to give me any assistance, but was capable of denouncing me under torture if I did anything illegal? [34] Or had I reached such a level of stupidity that while plotting against Simon I did not keep a look-out for him where he could be found alone, either by night or by day, but I went to a place where I could expect to be seen by very many people and get beaten up—as if it were against myself that I was employing premeditation, with the aim of suffering as much hubris as possible at the hands of my enemies? [35] Another point to consider, members of the council, is that even from the details of the ﬁght it is easy to be sure that he is lying. As soon as the young man realised what was happening, he tore off his cloak and ran away. These men pursued him, while I went off by a different route. [36] Which group ought you

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to consider responsible for what happened: those who ran away, or those who tried to catch them? For my part, I think it is clear to everybody that the people who ﬂee are those who are afraid for themselves, whereas the ones who pursue are those who want to do something unpleasant. [37] Nor is it the case that although this sounds reasonable in theory, nevertheless in the event things turned out differently. Instead, they caught hold of the young man and began trying to drag him forcibly out of the road. And when I happened to meet them, it was not them I touched, but I simply grabbed hold of the young man. They continued to drag him off by force and to beat me up. This has been testiﬁed to you by those who were present. It will be terrible if I am held guilty of premeditation in this affair, in which these men have actually behaved in such a disgraceful and lawless fashion. [38] What would have been my fate if the opposite of what happened had taken place? What if I, together with many of my friends, had met Simon, and had fought him and beaten him up and chased after him and caught him and tried to drag him off by force— given that now, when this man has behaved like this, I am the one who is facing this trial, in which I am in danger of losing my fatherland and all my property? [39] And here is the strongest and clearest proof: this man (or so he claims) has been wronged by me and has been the victim of my plotting, but he did not have the audacity to bring you an episke¯psis for four years. When other people are in love, and are deprived of what they desire, and suffer violence, they seek immediately to be avenged while they are angry. This man does it ages later. [40] I think it has been adequately demonstrated, members of the council, that I am not responsible for any of what has happened. Such is my attitude towards disagreements arising out of episodes like this, that although I had had my head broken by Simon, and had suffered hubris from him in a lot of other ways,

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I did not have the audacity to bring an episke¯psis. I thought it shameful to seek to throw people out of their fatherland simply because we had perhaps quarrelled with each other over boys. [41] I also believed that there could be no premeditation in wounding if somebody wounded without intent to kill: for who is so naïve that he premeditates long in advance the way in which one of his enemies should receive a wound? [42] It is clear that our legislators also did not believe that they should prescribe exile from the fatherland in circumstances where people happen to break each other’s heads while ﬁghting—or else they would have exiled a considerable number. But as for those who wounded others after plotting to kill them, but who did not succeed in killing, it was in the case of people like this that they established such severe penalties, taking the view that in cases where people have plotted and premeditated, they ought to pay the penalty: even if they did not succeed, nevertheless they had done their best. [43] And indeed, on many previous occasions you also have given the same verdict about premeditation. So it would be a terrible thing if, when people are wounded while ﬁghting because of drunkenness or quarrelling or horseplay or insults or over a hetaira (these are the sorts of things about which everybody is sorry when they recover their senses), you were to impose such severe and terrible penalties that you expelled some of the citizens from the fatherland. [44] I am very confused by this man’s character. Being a lover and being a sykophant do not seem to me to be compatible: the ﬁrst

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is characteristic of relatively straightforward people; the second, of those who are particularly unscrupulous. I would have liked to have been allowed to show you his wickedness by referring to other events. That way, you would realise that it would be far more just for him to be on trial for his life than for him to put other people in danger of exile. [45] I shall omit everything else, but I will tell you about one episode which I think you ought to hear about, and which is evidence of his outrageous insolence. At Corinth, when he arrived after the battle against the enemy and the expedition to Koroneia, he had a ﬁght with Lakhes the Taxiarkh, and beat him up. When the citizens marched out in full force, he was reckoned to be totally insubordinate and a complete rascal, and was the only Athenian to be punished by ekke¯ruxis by the Generals. [46] I could tell you many other things about him. However, given that it is unlawful to mention irrelevant material in your court, you should bear this point in mind: these men are the ones who enter our house by force; they are the ones who pursue us; they are the ones who drag us forcibly out of our path. [47] Remember this, and deliver a just vote. Do not look on while I am expelled unjustly from my fatherland, for which I have faced many dangers and performed many liturgies. I have never been responsible for any harm to it, nor have any of my ancestors: instead, we have been the cause of many beneﬁts. [48] So as a matter of justice I should receive pity both from you and from other people, not only if I were to suffer the fate that Simon intends, but simply because I have been compelled to undergo such a trial on the basis of an episode like this.

Lysias 3. Against Simon: Commentary §§1–4: Proem §1. Σίµωνι (‘about Simon’). Otherwise unknown, cf. p. 276 above (the name is common, with ﬁfty-ﬁve appearances in LGPN Attica). To identify the opponent by name at the outset is an aggressive strategy. Elsewhere in the extant speeches, this is done only in cases where the opponent is in some sense the defendant (thus Lys. 13, 14, 23, 27, 28, 29, 31, though cf. frag. 50 Against Arkhebiades and perhaps frag. 1 Against Aiskhines, on the plausible assumption that this is the opening of the speech); here it contributes to the portrayal of Simon as the person who ought to be on trial. ὦ βουλή (‘members of the council’). The council of the Areiopagos, cf. p. 281 above. For Lysias’ tendency to be fairly consistent in the choice of vocatives used to address different types of law court, see 1.1n. εἰς τοσοῦτον τόλµης (‘such a level of audacity’). This sets the tone for the narrative, in which tolma and its cognates are used repeatedly, normally with reference to Simon (§20, §22, §25, §26, §29, §39, §45), and once in the negative to contrast the speaker’s forbearance (§40). For the use of the proem to establish the character of both litigants, see Carey (1989: 92). ὑπὲρ ὧν αὐτὸν ἔδει δοῦναι δίκην, ὑπὲρ τούτων ὡς ἀδικούµενον (‘pretending to be the victim in an episode for which he himself ought to be punished’). For the portrayal of Simon as at least equally responsible, see p. 285 above. For the speaker’s insistence on his own refusal to initiate legal action although Simon had deserved it, see §3n. ἔγκληµα (‘prosecution’). For the signiﬁcance of the word enkle¯ma in identifying the legal procedure used in this case, see p. 284 with n. 39 above. διοµοσάµενον (‘after swearing the dio¯mosia’). For the special terms of the oath sworn in homicide courts—not just by litigants but also by witnesses—see 4.4n. §2. αλλοι τινές (‘anybody else’). Flattery of the court through the expression of conﬁdence in its ability to deliver justice is standard captatio benevolentiae (e.g. Ant. 5.8, Andok. 1.9), but the contrast with the inferior quality of other (by implication dikastic) courts is at ﬁrst sight more surprising because subversive of

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democratic constitutional theory.1 Here the comparison presumably arises out of the topos that the Areiopagos deserves unique prestige both as council and as law court (Aiskhin. 1.85, Lys. 6.14 respectively, and cf. p. 282 above): a topos which is so strong that the same comparison can even be deployed as a criticism in front of a dikastic audience (Dein. 1.55). διαγνώσεσθαι (‘going to decide’). There may be an element of technical terminology here: at the start of the homicide law attributed to Drakon, diagigno¯sko¯ is the verb used to denote the activity of the homicide jury (in that case ephetai), whereas dikazo¯ is used to describe the activity of the Basileus as presiding ofﬁcial evidently in pronouncing judgment (IG i3, 104, 11–13). See H. J. Wolff (1946: 76), Harrison (1968–71.ii: 38 n. 1), Carawan (1998: 49). ἐϕοβούµην τὸν κίνδυνον . . . τοῖς κινδυνεύουσιν (‘worried about the danger . . . those on trial’). Kinduneuo¯, lit. ‘to be in danger’, is frequently used in the Orators to mean ‘to be on trial’ (thus also §39) in a way that cannot conveniently be rendered in English, and my translation does not attempt to catch the word-play here. καὶ παρασκευαὶ καὶ τύχαι (‘carefully prepared tricks and unlucky chances’). Both of these nouns are used here with the overtones that are common in Lysias, for whom tukhe¯ typically has the negative connotations of ‘misfortune’ (thus 5.4; 12.80; 18.10), and paraskeue¯ typically denotes the mischievous preparations of an enemy (as at 12.75; 13.22; 19.2); the verb paraskeuazomai can have similar connotations (1.28, and cf. also 7.18n). Both noun and verb however can be used in a neutral or indeed positive sense, e.g. to describe the door kept open in preparation for Euphiletos’ posse (1.24), or the commendable foresight with which a Trierarkh had kept his ship ready for action (21.10). §3. ἀναγκασθήσοµαι (‘being forced’). Throughout this speech, Lysias represents the speaker as being consistently the passive victim of compulsion, whether because of Simon’s behaviour (as here and in the ﬁnal sentence at §48) or in allegations attributed to Simon (§31).2 The only person in the speech to exercise active compulsion is Simon himself at §5, though his victim there is not the speaker but Theodotos: codes of forbearance are complex things, and there are limits to how far to represent your opponent as pushing you around. ἠνεσχόµην ἀδικούµενος (‘I had put up with being mistreated’). Given the charge against him, it is important to the speaker’s strategy not to seem to have been physically provocative or aggressive: hence the repeated emphasis on his having done his best to avoid trouble, even if this involves behaviour that might be deemed cowardly (see p. 284) above. But it is equally important for him not to 1 See however Dover (1974: 23–25) for cases in which litigants criticise dikastic juries even to their face. 2 He is also metaphorically the victim of a different sort of compulsion, in the shape of sexual desire (§4n).

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be seen as the one who ﬁrst resorted to litigation (even though it was made clear at the outset that Simon deserved it, §1n), partly because this would undermine his claim that Simon’s charge against him is a disproportionate response to the events, and partly because being over-ready to rush to the law courts (philodikos, as at 10.2n) was in Athenian eyes a bad thing: it laid you open to imputations of sykophancy or vexatious litigation (an allegation which the speaker deploys against Simon at §44n, and see more generally 1.44n). Hence the tactic deployed by at least some of Lysias’ clients, who choose to characterise themselves in terms of apragmosune¯ (‘quietism’, for which cf. p. 480 n. 18 below). οὐδὲν ἀποκρυψάµενος απαντα διηγήσοµαι (‘I shall tell you the full story without concealing anything’). Simulated embarrassment (presumably in view of the speaker’s age, for which see further §4n) gives way to a pretence of telling the whole truth: for the latter, though without the former, see 1.9, and §10 below. §4. οὐκ ἔνοχος (‘not guilty of ’). Or possibly ‘not liable to’. οἷς Σίµων διωµόσατο (‘which Simon has stated on oath’). We know from Ant. 6.16 and Lys. 10.11 that the plaintiff’s dio¯mosia (for which see 4.4n) incorporated an assertion of the defendant’s guilt, but the implication here may be that it included also some detail about the counts of the accusation. For the rôle of oaths in Athenian homicide law, see generally MacDowell (1963: 90–99), Carawan (1998: 138–143). παρὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν τὴν ἐµαυτοῦ ἀνοητότερον (‘rather foolish for my age’). For the link between the speaker’s age and his embarrassment here, see W. V. Harris (1997: 364). The age-coding of homosexual relationships at Athens is discussed at p. 278 above, where it was suggested that Athenians regarded the late teens or early twenties as the appropriate age for an ero¯menos and the twenties to early thirties as appropriate for an eraste¯s. The ﬁrst part of this hypothesis is generally accepted by scholars (e.g. Ferrari 2002: 95). The second part is less widely noticed, and should not be overemphasised: Aiskhines, for instance, is only mildly defensive in acknowledging his continuing activity as eraste¯s (Aiskhin. 1.135–136) at a date when he is apparently in his mid-forties (Aiskhin. 1.49), but the present passage seems to imply that being an over-age eraste¯s could be an embarrassment: I have suggested elsewhere (Todd 2006: 102 n. 46) that this is ‘perhaps because the [speaker’s] opponent Simon was signiﬁcantly younger and therefore more plausible as an eraste¯s, or perhaps because Theodotos was more obviously a prostitute’. Carey (1989: 94) notes that Athenian law appears to have regarded the over-forties as being in control of their sexual desires (Aiskhin. 1.11), and that violent brawls—which are themselves assumed to be a by-product of sexual conquest (Aristoph. Wasps, 1326–1334, cf. 1368–1370)—are deemed to be more acceptable on the part of young than of mature men (Dem. 54.22). πρὸς τὸ µειράκιον (‘towards the young man’). The connotations of the term, and its use in this speech, are discussed at pp. 277–278 above.

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ἐπιθυµῆσαι (‘desire’). The translation ‘affects’ for enestin (lit. ‘is in’) is an attempt to catch the formal neutrality of the word, though in context the speaker clearly regards it as something that has afﬂicted him: for the Greek tendency to regard sexual desire as illness, madness or misfortune, see on this passage Carey (1989: 94–95), and more generally Dover (1974: 125, 137–138, 210–211). Epithumeo¯ and cognates can denote anything from intention or keenness (as at Lys. 1.44; 14.9; 16.5) upwards, but in this speech its connotations are predictably sexual (§5, §29, §30, §31, §39); cf. Plato’s use of epithume¯tikon to denote the ‘appetitive’ element in his theory of the tripartite soul (e.g. Pl., Rep. 439d4–8). βέλτιστος . . . καὶ σωϕρονέστατος . . . κοσµιώτατα (‘the most honourable and selfcontrolled man . . . most discreetly’, lit. ‘in a most orderly fashion’). Part of the rhetoric of self-restraint on which this speech depends. Although each of these three words is regularly used to describe the character of private individuals, nevertheless the fact that they are often used of one’s dealings with other people tends to give them the sort of civic connotations that we would associate with the phrase ‘law-abiding citizen’, as at 1.26n (kosmios) and 1.38n (so¯phro¯n), and they can at times take on explicitly political connotations (cf. 25.2, where beltistos comes close to meaning ‘card-carrying democrat’). For the association of kosmios with so¯phro¯n in Lysias, see 14.41, 19.16, and 21.19; for the conjunction of all three terms, see 14.12 (an invitation to improve standards of civic behaviour by convicting the defendant). τὰς συµϕοράς (‘misfortunes’). For sexual desire as misfortune, see last note but one.

§§5–20: Narrative The narrative is ordered chronologically, though the passage of time is not always speciﬁed: §§6–9 Simon’s alleged attack on the speaker’s house, resulting in injury to Aristokritos; §10 unspeciﬁed time spent abroad with Theodotos; §§11–19, the second round of ﬁghting, which itself falls into distinct phases (§§11–14 the attempted abduction from outside Lysimakhos’ house, leading at §§15–16 to the ﬁght in the fuller’s, and at §§17–18 to the speaker’s attempted rescue outside Lampon’s); §§19–20 four-year gap before the current speech. The signiﬁcance of the topographical markers is discussed at p. 276 above, and the relationship between narrative details and the speaker’s arguments at p. 285 above: links between sections of narrative and individual arguments are noted below as appropriate. §5. ἡµεῖς γὰρ ἐπεθυµήσαµεν (‘we were both attracted’). For epithumia, see §4n. Θεοδότου, Πλαταϊκοῦ µειρακίου (‘Theodotos, a young man from Plataia’). For Theodotos and the age-term meirakion, see p. 277 with n. 12 above; for Plataia, see pp. 279–281 above. εὖ ποιῶν (‘by treating him properly’). Euphemism presumably for gifts, and possibly also for money (the signiﬁcance of the distinction between payments

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and presents in the context of sexual relationships is explored by Davidson 1997: 109). The function of the euphemism will presumably have been to distinguish the speaker’s relationship with Theodotos from Simon’s claim at §22 to have paid him: see p. 279 above. εἶναί µοι ϕίλον (‘to win [him] over’), lit. ‘[that he should] be my philos’: a conveniently vague term, covering primarily social and familial but also sexual relationships (for the latter, see Dover 1978: 49). The failure to use the language of eraste¯s and ero¯menos (on which see p. 278 above) is at ﬁrst sight surprising, but in fact these terms are not common in the Orators, with eraste¯s being largely conﬁned to Apollodoros’ lists of Neaira’s (heterosexual) lovers in Dem. 59, and to the central section of Aiskhines’ speech against Timarkhos, where the verbal agenda is a consequence of Aiskhines’ decision to prosecute.3 Although the connotations are as likely to be positive (e.g. Aiskhin. 1.155 [eraste¯s], 1.159 [ero¯menos]) as they are negative (e.g. Aiskhin. 1.171 [eraste¯s]), nevertheless the fact that Lysias uses eraste¯s only twice, in both cases to denote the lover of the speaker’s opponent (14.27; frag. 279 Against Teisis §1), suggests that part of the reason for not using these terms in the present passage may be a preference to allow the status of one’s own affairs to be inferred rather than speciﬁed. ὑβρίζων καὶ παρανοµῶν (‘in an arrogant and lawless fashion’). The terms hubris and paranomia (or, as here, their cognate verbs) overlap, but without precisely matching each other. Paranomia can be used in a broad sense to denote any unlawful activity;4 hubris is a much more common term, used generally to denote certain types of excessive or outrageous behaviour, frequently involving assault, often though not always with sexual overtones (see 1.2n). Both words are common in Lys. 3 (cognates of hubris at §7 twice, §17, §23, §26, §34, §40, and of paranomia at §10, §17, §37); elsewhere in the corpus, hubris is most often found in Lys. 1 (four examples, all relating to Eratosthenes’ adultery) and Lys. 24 (eight examples, rebutting at considerable length an apparent allegation against the speaker), whereas cognates of paranomia are most common in Lys. 12 (three examples, two of them relating to abuse of authority by public ofﬁcials). ᾤετο ἀναγκάσειν (‘expected to force him’). For compulsion, see §3n. πολὺ αν ἔργον εἴη λέγειν (‘it would be a lengthy task to recount’). An idiom of praeteritio that is particularly common in Lysias (cf. 13.65; 18.3; 30.2; 32.26). Here it has the added advantage of emphasising those things of which the speaker can claim to have direct and therefore authoritative knowledge. ἡγοῦµαι ταῦθ’ ὑµῖν προσήκειν ἀκοῦσαι (‘I think you should hear the offences’). Vianello de Córdova (1990b: 43) notes that this opening to the narrative serves to 3 Ero¯menos is even more rare in forensic oratory, being found only at Aiskhin. 1.159, where it is used twice to establish a contrast with prostitutes (peporneumenoi). 4 The adjective paranoma (n. pl.) has a more technical usage: the graphe¯ paranomo¯n was a public prosecution alleging that a proposed decree was unlawful in the sense of unconstitutional (Hansen 1974 discusses this procedure in detail and catalogues all known examples).

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emphasise violence as a permanent characteristic of Simon, and suggests that the preliminary narrative of §§6–8 may have been a defence strategy which the latter failed to foresee. (See further §29n.)

Simon’s ﬁrst attack on speaker’s house (§§6–9) §6. νύκτωρ µεθύων (‘at night, drunk’). The force of the sentence is to cap one transgressive feature with another: i.e. he came by night, and what is more he was drunk. Being drunk during the daytime (as noted at §11n) would in itself be even worse, but drunkenness is portrayed as a characteristic of Simon at all times (§§11–12, §§18–19), and here the combination of the two underlines the violence of the night-time entry (cf. following note). ἐκκόψας τὰς θύρας (‘he knocked down the doors’). Possibly plural for singular, but it is repeated in a parallel phrase at §23, which makes it sound deliberate, particularly when read in contrast to the two-fold mention of a single door pushed open by intruders at Dem. 47.53, 63. It is possible that Lysias’ client’s house has a double door (I am not aware of relevant material evidence from Athens, but they are widely attested in fourth-century Olynthos: at least six examples in Cahill 2002: 98, 113, 125, 131, 239, 241). Alternatively, the plural here may include an internal door separating the gunaiko¯nitis (women’s quarters, cf. 1.13n) from the rest of the house, as at Xen. Oikon. 9.5. It is worth noting, however, that the Demosthenic story focuses on an intrusion into what seems to be the courtyard rather than into the house itself, so it could be that the plural is being used here in the same sense as at 1.17n (one door from street into courtyard, another from courtyard into house). On that basis, we are if we wish at liberty to read this as a house in which the internal divisions were ﬂexible and socially negotiated, rather than ﬁxed: for the use of curtains as well as doors as ways of organising space within the house, see Antonaccio (1999–2000: 530). The combination of drunkenness and the knocking down of a door is found also at Lys. frag. 279 Against Teisis, §5. εἰσῆλθεν εἰς τὴν γυναικωνῖτιν (‘made his way into the women’s rooms’). We would not normally expect these to have been easily accessible from the street (though cf. 1.9n for ﬂexibility in the use of rooms within Athenian private houses), and the phrasing here is presumably intended to suggest that Simon behaved outrageously in entering a part of the house that was not meant to be accessible to casual visitors, nor even to close friends. Whether Simon will have been aware that there were citizen women in the house is another matter: the speaker of Dem. 47 regards it as sufﬁcient simply to have satisﬁed himself that his opponent was unmarried before forcibly entering the latter’s house with a view to seizing property in resolution of a debt (Dem. 47.38 with the comments of Rhodes 1998: 147). τῆς τε ἀδελϕῆς τῆς ἐµῆς καὶ τῶν ἀδελϕιδῶν (‘my sister and my nieces’). The anecdote has several implications for the speaker’s family relationships. The nieces are described in §7 as orphans (the Greek term is used for children whose

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father is dead, without reference to the mother); there are plenty of parallels for a widow returning to live with her natal kin following her husband’s death, but signiﬁcantly fewer for her taking her children with her.5 The fact that she is living with her brother as next-of-kin may further suggest that their father is dead, just as the speaker’s failure to mention his mother’s presence implies that she is dead also. Perhaps more signiﬁcant is his failure in the present passage to mention his own wife, which suggests that he is himself unmarried. As was noted at p. 278 above, he appears to be beyond the age at which marriage might be expected, but we cannot necessarily infer from this passage that he has never been married (though he evidently has no daughters living with him). αἳ οὕτω κοσµίως βεβιώκασιν ὥστε καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν οἰκείων ὁρώµεναι αἰσχύνεσθαι (‘who have lived their lives so respectably that they are ashamed to be seen even by their own relatives’). Grammatically the relative clause could apply either to the nieces alone or also to the sister, though the emphasis on the nieces at §7n π πα;δα κ*ρα may suggest the more restrictive reading. But on the natural assumption that the oikeioi here are relatives rather than simply close friends,6 there would still surely have to be an element of exaggeration in this statement: Athenian social codes might frown on respectable women or girls being seen by other men, but this does not apply to their own relatives (see further D. Cohen 1990: 155; 1991a: 148, 160). §7. εἰς τοῦτο ἦλθεν ὕβρεως . . . τῶν ὑβρισµένων (‘reached such a level of hubris . . . this outrageous conduct’). On hubris, see §5n. οἱ παραγενόµενοι καὶ οἱ µετ’ αὐτοῦ ἐλθόντες (‘those who were present, together with those who had accompanied him’). Francken (1865: 33) deletes the second phrase as a gloss on the ﬁrst, but unnecessarily, since it is ﬁrmly in the speaker’s interests to suggest that Simon’s actions are repudiated even by his drinking cronies. Less clear is the referent of the ﬁrst phrase: Carey (1989: 97), and similarly D. Cohen (1991a: 86) suggest that we have here an act of solidarity on the part of neighbours, acting presumably in the absence of the householder (see next-butone note: there is no hint in the narrative of any male relative in the house). This is possible, but it would contrast sharply with the reluctance of Hagnophilos at Dem. 47.60 to enter his neighbour’s property in similar circumstances, and I wonder if Lysias may be seeking to increase the moral authority of e.g. action on 5

Harrison (1968–71.i: 44) represents it as a ﬁrm rule that the children would remain in their deceased father’s household whereas the widow could remain or return, but provides only one valid example (Dem. 40.6); he cites also Lys. 32, but in-marriage renders this case hard to interpret. For a wider range of cases, see Cox (1998: 141–148), who argues for considerable variety in patterns of residence. 6 LSJ s.v. oikeios II reports two meanings, ‘of the same household, family, or kin, related’ and ‘friendly’, but elsewhere in Lysias the word itself tends to denote relatives (as at 17.5; 31.20; 32.1; and probably 19.9), leaving friends to be described by adverbial phrases with oikeio¯s (‘on familiar terms’, used of Sostratos in 1.39) and words like oikeiote¯s (‘relationship’, used of the speaker’s wife at 1.6, but of a foreign xenos at frag. 286 On behalf of Pherenikos §3).

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315

the part of the speaker’s slaves by describing them in terms elsewhere reserved for impartial bystanders (see further §12n). ἐπὶ παῖδας κόρας καὶ ὀρϕανὰς εἰσιόντα (‘entering the house in the presence of young orphaned girls’). For the language of ‘entering’ in a similar context, cf. 1.4n. On the family relationships here, see §6n τ8 τε α2δελφ8: in the light of what was said there, the implication of the present passage would seem to be that the speaker regards it as less serious to intrude on his sister—whose previous marriage means that she will have had at least some contact with non-natal family—than on his nieces, which perhaps suggests that in his comments about the modesty of their lives (§6n αw οHτω κοσµω βεβι=κασιν), he is thinking about the latter rather more than about the former. ἐξευρὼν οὗ ἐδειπνοῦµεν (‘found out where I was having dinner’). This could be interpreted as meaning that Simon initially retreated on realising that he had entered the wrong rooms, then became aware that the speaker was dining in another part of the house and summoned him out of it, which would imply that the speaker was ready to go out and remonstrate, if not necessarily to ﬁght him. The more obvious reading, however, is that the speaker (accompanied presumably by Theodotos) was dining elsewhere on the night in question, in which case he might naturally have come to the door without realising what had happened at his own house.7 µανίαν (‘criminal insanity’), lit. ‘madness’: the translation is intended to reﬂect the fact that insanity is in no sense a defence in Athenian law. The use of words to signify madness, stupidity, or simple-mindedness is strikingly common in this speech, which contains two of the four Lysianic uses of mania (here and at §29), three of six uses of anoe¯tos (§4, §9, §31), one of three uses of amathia or amathe¯s (§34), and two of eight uses of eue¯theia or eue¯the¯s8 (§41, §44). Part of the reason for the prevalence of such vocabulary is simple invective (as here), but there is also an unusual element of self-deprecation (e.g. §4, §9), and—especially in the proof-section of the speech—a repeated strategy of representing Simon’s position as absurd (e.g. §29, §31, §34, and §41). §8. ἐκκαλέσας γάρ µε ἔνδοθεν (‘called me out from inside the house’). See §7n. ἠµυνάµην (‘defended myself’). It is notable that he does not say, ‘I evaded his blow and returned indoors’. This may be because this would be regarded by the audience as being unacceptably cowardly within the context of Athenian codes of honour and revenge (see p. 285 above), or because Lysias wants to represent Simon as the ﬁrst to resort to weapons (and more serious ones than the pottery of 7 It is worth noting that the parallel passage at §29 uses an auxiliary verb (δειπνν τ$γχανον ‘happened to be dining’), which would perhaps make more sense when used of somebody dining away from home. 8 For the etymologically positive (‘good in character’) and the developed negative (‘simpleminded’) senses of the term, see Dover (1974: 204).

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§28), or because it allows him to bring in the reference to Aristokritos as suggested below. ἔβαλλε (‘tried to pelt’). Perhaps inchoative: ‘started throwing’ (Scodel 1986: 18). ἁµαρτάνει (‘missed’). The ambiguity of hamartano¯ (to miss the mark/to commit an offence) is well exploited in this narrative: Simon is the sort of person who is too drunk to be able to hit the target at which he aims, and it is therefore no surprise that his drunkenness results in offences at §9 and §10. Ἀριστοκρίτου (‘Aristokritos’). Otherwise unknown, cf. pp. 275–276 above (one of twenty-one individuals so named in LGPN Attica), but the detail serves both to create verisimilitude and to rebut any attempt by Simon to depict him as a victim of the speaker. συντρίβει τὸ µέτωπον (‘injured his face’). Injuries to heads and to faces are mentioned with surprising frequency during this speech (cf. also §14, §18, §40, §42). It is possible that Simon has simply made a point of claiming himself to have suffered such injury, but it is tempting to infer that facial injury may have been regarded either by statute or by custom as being a criterion that distinguished trauma ek pronoias (‘wounding with intent’) from simple assault. This inference may be supported by the claim at Lys. 6.15 that envisages what seems to be a trauma ek pronoias charge ‘if somebody wounds a man physically, in his head, his face, his hands, or his feet’ (though it is less obvious why hands and feet should be accorded special protection); and by two other trauma ek pronoias cases which seem to have been brought in conjunction with head-wounds (Demomeles at Aiskhin. 2.93 and 3.52; Boiotos at Dem. 40.32). For other possible criteria, see p. 283 with n. 34 above). §9. αἰσχυνόµενος . . . τῇ συµϕορᾷ (‘embarrassed at my misfortune’). It is notable that almost everybody in this speech is said to display aiskhune¯ (shame or embarrassment)—the speaker here and at §3, his female relatives at §6, and even his opponent’s supporters at §13—with the notable exception of Simon himself. Sumphora (misfortune), on the other hand, starts by being applied to people in the abstract (§4), but is thereafter predicated only of the speaker himself (here and at §13 and §30). For the social codes here, see p. 278 n. 16 above (avoidance of violence) and p. 285 above (honour). ἢ δόξαι τοῖς πολίταις ἀνόητος εἶναι (‘rather than to appear foolish to my fellow-citizens’), lit. ‘to the citizens’ (cf. p. 586 below). ‘He tries to defend the ridicule inherent in his position by anticipating it’ (Scodel 1986: 18). On the use of anoe¯tos in this speech, see §7n. For the rôle of shame as a motivator, see e.g. Adkins (1960: 153–168), Dover (1974: 236–242). τῶν ϕθονεῖν εἰθισµένων, ἐάν τις ἐν τῇ πόλει προθυµῆται χρηστὸς εἶναι (‘of those who are normally jealous of anybody who seeks to play a responsible rôle in the polis’). Khre¯stos (lit. ‘useful’) is a term commonly used in the Orators to describe individuals, and is found eighteen times in Lysias. It can refer to a man’s private

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life (e.g. 19.14), but normally has connotations of one’s responsibilities to the polis, e.g. in military service (16.14), or as juror (14.4), or in displaying loyalty to the democracy (14.23). In the present passage, as at 20.2 and 31.31, the context seems to be one of political leadership (the implications for the speaker’s political career are noted at p. 279 above). It is more normal in Athenian oratory to speak of the reactions of one’s enemies (e.g. Lys. 14.2 and Lys. frag. 195 Against Kinesias §3) than of such unspeciﬁed jealousy, and the absence of the word ekhthros from this speech may signify an attempt to play down the existence of legitimate opponents.

Passage of time (narrative intermission): voyage abroad with Theodotos (§10) §10. ἀποδηµῆσαι ἐκ τῆς πόλεως (‘to go away from the polis’). The repetition of ek te¯s poleo¯s twice in successive sentences is odd, particularly given that the idea is already to some extent implicit in the verb:9 the deletion of the phrase from the ﬁrst sentence by Halbertsma (1862: 7) is probably sounder than its deletion from both by Kayser (1856: 152). See p. 280 above for the implications of Theodotos’ freedom of movement, and p. 278 above for the signiﬁcance of the speaker’s travels (which at §32 are speciﬁed as being by ship).10 απαντα γὰρ δεῖ τἀληθῆ λέγειν (‘it is necessary to tell you the whole truth’). The repetition of the sentiment (cf. §3n) makes it sound as if there is something embarrassing in the actions being admitted here: whether because they imply an inappropriate level of infatuation or an insufﬁcient commitment to his status as an Athenian, or because he fears it will look like an admission of weakness (cf. on honour codes, p. 285 above), or alternatively because his action could be read as constituting an incitement to Theodotos to break his agreement with Simon, if Albini (1955: 413 n. 4) is correct in suggesting that the alleged agreement of §22 has already happened. ἐπειδὴ δὲ ᾤµην ἱκανὸν εἶναι τὸν χρόνον (‘when I thought that enough time had passed’). The vagueness of the chronological indication here is noted at p. 276 above: Carey (1989: 98) emphasises that it is in the speaker’s interest to compress the interval between return and battle. τοῦ νεανίσκου (‘the young man’). On the use of neaniskos rather than meirakion here and in §17, see p. 277 n. 11 above. There is no obvious reason other than perhaps variatio (to avoid having meirakion twice in successive sentences), but Lysias is happy to use meirakion twice in one sentence at §37. ἡµαρτηµένων (‘offences’). For the semantic ﬁeld of hamartano¯, see §8n. 9 Lysias does on occasions use verbal repetition for emphasis, but normally with some degree of variation: see e.g. §35n, and similarly 1.11n. 10 Fernández-Galiano (1953: 77 n. xv) suggests that the speaker’s voyage abroad must have happened either before 395 or after 386 because the seas would have been unsafe for Athenians during the Corinthian War, but this argument would have less merit after the Spartan defeat at Knidos in 394.

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3. Against Simon: Commentary §11

Second stage of ﬁghting, phase one: Simon’s attempt to abduct Theodotos (§§11–14) §11. ᾠχόµην εἰς Πειραιᾶ (‘I went to the Peiraieus’). For the topography, see p. 276 above. It is evident that the speaker has already installed Theodotos at Lysimakhos’ house (see following note), and that this is somewhere other than Peiraieus, since at the start of §12 he speaks of arriving there from Peiraieus (the most likely location is Athens itself, given that the ﬁghting seems to be set in a built-up area, cf. p. 276 n. 8 above). So it looks as if this trip to Peiraieus is not a staging post on the way back from his voyage abroad (§10n), but a subsequent visit. We are not told why he went there: if, as is suggested by Carey (see p. 278 above), his voyage was a trading trip, then he might easily have had to visit Peiraieus again for business reasons, but if so, he has studiously avoided giving details. διατρίβοντα παρὰ Λυσιµάχῳ (‘was staying with Lysimakhos’). Lysimakhos is evidently a friend of the speaker, but the name is too common to be identiﬁed (131 individuals in LGPN Attica). Why the speaker chose to leave Theodotos there, rather than in his own house (as is alleged in the case of Misgolas and Timarkhos at Aiskhin. 1.43) is left carefully unstated: we may be meant to infer that he was not being possessive,11 but the detail which follows suggests that there may have been deliberate provocation. See further §31n. ὃς ᾤκει πλησίον τῆς οἰκίας (‘who was living close to the house’). Considerable care is taken to slip in this information without alerting the audience to its implications. The detail is necessary for the narrative, because it explains how the ﬁghting broke out, and Lysias has been careful to suggest that it was Simon who ﬁrst became aware of Theodotos’ proximity. But unless the speaker really did not know where Simon was living (see following note), his claim not to have provoked the affair falls foul of what looks suspiciously like an attempt to ﬂaunt his conquest in his opponent’s face. ἧς οὗτος ἐµεµίσθωτο (‘which this man had rented’). The emphasis on renting is presumably intended to suggest that the speaker coming from abroad could not reasonably have been expected to know where Simon was living. As Carey (1989: 99) points out, however, the speaker’s failure to make this point explicit may suggest that he did in fact know. ἠρίστων καὶ ἔπινον (‘began eating and drinking’). Ariston is a day-time meal, as opposed to deipnon in the evening (cf. 1.11n); the fact that the episodes took place during the day is made explicit at §29. Extended day-time drinking is presumably meant to sound disreputable, as at Dem. 54.3: here it serves both to explain and to

11 Or possibly that to have lodged Theodotos in his own house would have been offensive to his sister? I am not aware of any evidence for such considerations in the case of a homosexual relationship, though Dem. 59.22 implies that the presence of a man’s mistress in the house might be offensive not only to his wife but also to his mother, and presumably therefore to other female relatives also.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§11–12

319

exacerbate the violence of his companions’ actions at §12. (On Simon’s drinking, see §6n.) ϕύλακας δὲ κατέστησαν ἐπὶ τοῦ τέγους (‘set a look-out on the roof’). A reasonable precaution perhaps in the countryside, but in an urban setting this is the sort of behaviour that one expects from Clytemnestra. (On phulakas, see further §13n.) §12. ἐν δὲ τούτῳ τῷ καιρῷ (‘at this moment’). In the sense ‘moment of crisis’ (as at 13.44; 16.5; 18.5) rather than ‘moment of opportunity’. ἀϕικνοῦµαι ἐγὼ ἐκ Πειραιῶς (‘I arrived from Peiraieus’). For the inference that Lysimakhos lived in Athens itself, see §11n. τρέποµαι παριὼν ὡς τὸν Λυσίµαχον (‘because I was passing I called at Lysimakhos’ house’). As if his behaviour was both normal and coincidental: he only happened to be passing, so cannot be held responsible for what followed. ὀλίγον δὲ χρόνον διατρίψαντες ἐξερχόµεθα (‘we spent a short time inside, and then came out’). He is careful to demonstrate that unlike Simon he has not had time to get drunk, but equally he wants to suggest that there was some purpose in his visiting Lysimakhos beyond simply picking up Theodotos. οὗτοι δ’ ἤδη µεθύοντες ἐκπηδῶσιν ἐϕ’ ἡµᾶς (‘these men, who were by now drunk, jumped out on us’). Drinking in the imperfect (§11) has given way to drunkenness as a present state. οἱ µέν τινες αὐτῷ τῶν παραγενοµένων (‘some of those who were present with him’). Paragignomai denotes presence either at an event or accompanying a person. Elsewhere in this speech it is used to denote impartial bystanders, often called as witnesses, who in the absence of police play a major rôle in the regulation of such conﬂicts (§7, §14, §15, §18, §20, §37).12 Here the proximity of auto¯i may serve to create a transitional group:13 on one level these are Simon’s companions, but their refusal to support his attempted abduction allows them to be assimilated linguistically to the witnesses of §§14–15 as representatives of popular sentiment, permitting Lysias once again (cf. §7n) to emphasise that even Simon’s natural supporters have repudiated his actions. Θεόϕιλος καὶ Πρώταρχος καὶ Αὐτοκλῆς (‘Theophilos, Protarkhos and Autokles’). None of these names is sufﬁciently rare to be identiﬁed (there are 223 individuals named Theophilos in LGPN Attica, thirty-ﬁve named Protarkhos, and forty-ﬁve named Autokles). ῥίψας τὸ ἱµάτιον ᾤχετο ϕεύγων (‘threw off his cloak and ran away’). See p. 285 above for this narrative detail and its relationship with §35. 12 For the absence of police, see pp. 285–286 above. The word paragignomai is unusually common in this speech, accounting for seven of its twenty appearances in the corpus of Lysias. 13 Though Scodel (1986: 19) reads it with the more distant συνεξαµαρτε;ν (i.e. ‘some of those present refused to join him in this criminal behaviour’).

320

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§13–15

§13. ἐπειδὴ τάχιστα ἐντύχοιεν ἀνθρώποις (‘as soon as they happened to meet people’). Once again, the importance of bystanders for the informal regulation of conﬂict in a society without police. διανοηθείς (‘with this in mind’). To discuss your thought-processes at such a moment of action is at ﬁrst sight surprising, but Scodel (1986: 19) plausibly suggests that mild embarrassment at his own cowardice may be a form of argument from characterisation, making it appear less likely that he would have sought trouble in the way that the prosecution allege. οὕτω σϕόδρ’ αὐτοὺς ἐϕυλαττόµην (‘you see how carefully I tried to avoid them’). There is a contrast here between the speaker’s use of care (lit. ‘guarding’, phulattomai) in avoiding trouble, and the care taken by his opponents to create it (phulake¯, the cognate noun, is used to denote their look-out on the roof at §11). §14. κἀνταῦθα . . . ἵνα ϕησὶ Σίµων (‘at the place where Simon claims’). For the importance of topography in the speech, see p. 276 above. Simon has evidently claimed that there was a ﬁght outside Lysimakhos’ house, in which he himself had been injured (cf. also the speaker’s more detailed rebuttal at §27). The speaker responds by asserting that the only ﬁghting this day took place later, ﬁrst at the fuller’s shop of Molon in the speaker’s absence (§16), and then outside Lampon’s house where equal injuries were suffered on all sides (§18). τὴν µάχην (‘battle’). Rather a strong word (it would normally denote a pitched battle in warfare), but Greek has no obvious noun for a brawl or street-ﬁght. He may be trying to undermine Simon’s account here by exaggeration, though he does use makhe¯ on his own account at §18 and §35. οὐδεὶς οὔτε κατεάγη τὴν κεϕαλήν (‘nobody had his head broken’). On the connection between head-injuries and trauma ek pronoias, cf. §8n. τοὺς παραγενοµένους . . . µάρτυρας (‘those who were present as witnesses’), cf. §15 7π τν παραγενοµ νων (‘by those who were present’), and see §12n.

Second stage of ﬁghting, phase two: the ﬁght in the fuller’s (§§15–16) §15. εἰς γναϕεῖον κατέϕυγεν (‘ran into a fuller’s shop’). Fulling is part of the process of manufacturing woollen cloth, which involves washing it to remove grease, and pounding it to turn the woven threads into fabric.14 Fulling seems to have been a common occupation,15 and we would expect such a process to be 14 Etymologically, the primary function of fullers is the ‘carding’ of wool (LSJ s.v. knapto¯); they may also have performed some of the functions that we would associate with a laundry, which is how the passage is read by Carey (1989: 100). 15 Xen. Mem. 3.7.6 lists it as one of half-a-dozen occupations performed evidently by poorer citizens whose views should not intimidate a prospective speaker in the Assembly. At least two and probably three individuals are identiﬁed as fullers in the inscription rewarding those who assisted in the democratic restoration of 404/3 (Rhodes & Osborne 2003, no.4, col.4 lines 7, 21, and col.7 [= M. J. Osborne 1981–83: D6, face B col.iii] line 4).

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§15–17

321

fairly labour-intensive,16 making it a place where Theodotos might reasonably have expected to ﬁnd people willing to protect him against his pursuers: the preﬁx in kata-pheugo¯ carries the connotation ‘ﬂee for refuge’. µαρτυρόµενον (‘calling on people to be witnesses’). Whereas martureo¯ is the action of the witness who testiﬁes, the deponent verb marturomai is used by the victim (ideally at the time of being wronged in a public place) calling for the support of witnesses whether human or divine: it is not very common in the Orators, but is found frequently in Aristophanes, particularly in situations where a speaker is being publicly threatened or assaulted (e.g. Birds, 1031; Frogs, 528). §16. συνδραµόντων δὲ ἀνθρώπων πολλῶν (‘lots of people rushed up’). Bystanders have already been mentioned (see §12n), but this is the ﬁrst reference to a crowd of people gathering and making their feelings felt in response to an appeal from one of the participants in the action: for the rôle and size of the crowd in this speech, see V. J. Hunter (1994: 121). Μόλωνα δὲ τὸν γναϕέα (‘Molon the fuller’). Not explicitly described as the owner of the shop in §15, but the inference seems overwhelming. Molon is not a particularly common name (eleven individuals in LGPN Attica), but there are no others with whom he can plausibly be identiﬁed. For the location of his shop in relation to the houses of Lysimakhos and of Lampon, see §27n. Given that others also are said to have been attacked, the reason for naming only him is presumably that he is the one who has agreed to appear as a witness.

Second stage of ﬁghting, phase three: attempted rescue by speaker (§§17–18) §17. ἤδη δὲ αὐτοῖς οὖσι (‘they were [lit. ‘being’] already’). The e¯de¯ marks what would otherwise be an abrupt scene-change, leaving us to infer that Simon and companions have now ﬁnished with Molon, and have moved off dragging Theodotos away with them. This allows the next stage of the story to be told from the speaker’s own perspective, so as to emphasise the reasonableness of his alleged response. παρὰ τὴν Λάµπωνος οἰκίαν (‘opposite Lampon’s house’). Again a relatively uncommon name (eleven individuals in LGPN Attica), but he cannot otherwise be identiﬁed. It is possible that he is named here because his house was a wellknown topographical marker (cf. p. 276 above), but he may also be among those who testify at §20.

16 The choice of verb at Lys. 23.2 (ergazomai) implies that Pankleon is an employee rather than the owner of the fuller’s where he works. For the possibility that non-employees might be present also, cf. perhaps Ariston’s claim that his opponents had been drinking ‘at (para) Pamphilos the fuller’s’ (Dem. 54.7); but given the noise, steam, and smell of the process, I am inclined to accept the alternative suggestion of Carey & Reid (1985: 82) that what is envisaged in that passage are guests at the house rather than gossiping customers.

322

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§17–18

ἐγὼ µόνος βαδίζων ἐντυγχάνω (‘I happened to come across them, while I was walking along on my own’). The reappearance of the speaker (see last-but-one note) is marked by a particularly telling phrase: the absence of support, and the rôle of chance rather than premeditation, are captured together with an economy of words that is impossible in English. τὸν νεανίσκον . . . τοῦ νεανίσκου (‘the young man . . . the young man’). On the use of neaniskos rather than meirakion twice here and in §10, see p. 277 n. 11 above. There seems no obvious reason for having neaniskos twice in such quick succession here (the ﬁrst example here could be an attempt to avoid the risk of a neuter participle hubristhen being read with deinon and aiskhron, but that would not account for the second one). §18. µάχης <δὲ> γενοµένης (‘a battle developed’). Unlike the alleged preliminary skirmish outside the house of Lysimakhos (see §14n), the description of the struggle outside Lampon’s house as a genuine battle rests on the speaker’s own authority (here and at §35) rather than that of his opponent. καὶ περὶ τοῦ σώµατος ἀµυνοµένου (‘he was defending his own life’). Non-speciﬁc self-defence, in contrast to the much more speciﬁc acts of violence attributed to the opponents (thus Carey 1989: 101). The double appearance of amunomenou here and in the following line is slightly awkward, and the abrupt sequence of clauses17 has caused some scholars to doubt the text. Thalheim and others read κα2µο' or κα µο' for κα here, and κα κενου for κα µο' below, which would yield a different sequence of actors (‘The young man was pelting them. I was defending my own life. They were pelting us. They were still hitting him, because they were drunk. He was defending himself. The passers-by were all helping us, etc.’).18 As Carey notes, however, although this would increase the initial emphasis on the speaker’s acting in self-defence, the separation between ballontos and amunomenou would leave Theodotos sounding too aggressive, and the introduction of the speaker at this early stage gives him too prominent a rôle in the battle. περὶ τοῦ σώµατος (‘his own life’). Here literally, but ‘risking one’s so¯ma (body)’ is often said of defendants, typically in capital trials (as probably at 1.50n), though it can also be used where the penalty is exile (see refs at 5.1n): there may therefore be overtones of ‘defending his freedom’ here as well (cf. similarly 4.13n). Carey (1989: 101) notes the contrast between Theodotos’ necessary force in self-defence and the gratuitous drunken violence of Simon and his friends. ἔτι δὲ τυπτόντων αὐτὸν ὑπὸ τῆς µέθης (‘they were still hitting him, because they were drunk’). The suggestion of Reiske (1770–75.vi: 670) that we should emend τυπτ*ντων ατ*ν into πιπτ*ντων ατν (‘they were themselves continuously 17 The use of short sentences in my translation is an attempt to catch something of the breathlessness of the sequence of genitive absolutes in the Greek. 18 For more radical approaches, see Carey’s OCT apparatus.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§18–20

323

falling over’), is regarded as ‘ingenious but implausible’ by Fernández-Galiano (1953: 75 n. vii). Falling over does not seem to form a major part of the ancient Greek cultural stereotype of drunkenness (Dem. 54.7, for instance, regards speaking unintelligibly to oneself as the characteristic of a drunken man, while the numbered sequence of wine-bowls in Euboulos, Semele, frag. 93 Kassel & Austin, moves straight from ‘love and pleasure’ to ‘sleep’), though there are occasional hints of ataxia, e.g. at Aristoph. Wasps, 1324 (σφαλλ*µενο προσ ρχεται). κἀµοῦ ἀµυνοµένου (‘I was defending myself’). See last note but two. τῶν παραγενοµένων (‘the passers-by’). This time genuine bystanders (see §12n), or at least allegedly so. συντριβόµεθα τὰς κεϕαλὰς απαντες (‘we all got our heads broken’). The stress here is on the ﬁnal word. The speaker cannot plausibly deny his participation in the brawl (though he has been far from speciﬁc about his share in it: see note on κα . . . α2µυνοµ νου above), but he is very careful to leave us with the impression that all those involved suffered equally. For the strategy here, see p. 285 above; for the legal signiﬁcance of head injuries, see §8n.

Passage of time (again): the four-year gap since the second ﬁght (§§19–20) §19. οἱ µετὰ τούτου παροινήσαντες (‘who had joined in this man’s drunken misbehaviour’). A good touch: paroineo¯ denotes not simply drunkenness, but inappropriate behaviour while drunk (cf. 4.8n for the etymology, and see §11n for the transgressive nature of the opponents’ drinking in the present speech). Apart from their failure to prosecute, which could be interpreted in various ways, there is in fact no evidence that Simon’s supporters did apologise, but the allegation serves to wrong-foot the opposition. τεττάρων ἐτῶν παρεληλυθότων (‘four years have passed’). Looking forward to the argument of §39, but perhaps too blatantly (cf. p. 285 n. 45 above); for the chronological implications, see p. 276 above. οὐδέν µοι πώποτε ἐνεκάλεσεν οὐδείς (‘at no time has anybody brought a prosecution against me’). The verbal form of enkle¯ma (as at §1), the legal signiﬁcance of which is noted at p. 284 with n. 39 above. §20. δεδιὼς περὶ αὑτοῦ (‘afraid on his own account’). Given what has just been said about his being the cause of the problem, the allegation here is presumably that Simon is the one who had most reason to expect to be prosecuted (cf. §1n). δίκας ἰδίας . . . ἐξ ἀντιδόσεως (‘in private cases arising from an antidosis’). A rich man nominated to perform a liturgy (for which see §47n), but who wished to avoid the obligation, could seek to do so in two ways. If he believed himself to be statutorily exempt, he could bring the matter straight to the presiding ofﬁcial’s court by means of a ske¯psis; alternatively, he could identify a private individual liable to liturgies whom he believed to be richer than himself, and challenge him

324

3. Against Simon: Commentary §20

either to undertake the liturgy in his stead or to undergo antidosis (‘exchange’).19 The antidosis is fundamentally a private matter, in which it was the task of the person initially nominated to ﬁnd a substitute: from a democratic perspective, this had obvious advantages since it encouraged division among the élite, while limiting the extent to which the polis had to undertake the unpopular responsibility of nomination (Gabrielsen 1987: 37). The details of the antidosis procedure are controversial, however, primarily because we have no clear cases in which exchange was carried through to completion.20 It is generally agreed that the person being challenged had at least two options: either to retain his property but take over the liturgy; or alternatively to go through with the exchange, in which case the liturgy would be performed by the challenger but on the basis of the challenged man’s property. What is less certain is whether at the outset he also had a third option of refusing to accept either the liturgy or the exchange and taking the matter directly to court probably in the form of a diadikasia (thus e.g. Christ 1990: 161, Rhodes 1998: 150), or whether he was in principle tied at the outset to the ﬁrst two options, with the case coming to court only if private negotiations broke down (the view of Gabrielsen 1987). Either way, the implication of the present passage is that the speaker’s case did come to court in some form,21 though we have no way of telling whether the speaker was the challenger (qua originally designated liturgist) or alternatively the person challenged, just as we have no way of telling what particular liturgy was being contested. What we can infer is that the speaker lost whatever litigation he was involved in (κακ α2γωνισα´µενον), and that this evidently weakened his social and political standing, to the extent that he can reasonably suggest that Simon was taking the opportunity to kick him while he was down. This will have been either because the case damaged his claims to philotimia by making it look as if he was trying to shirk his civic responsibilities (see §47n),22 or alternatively—or indeed also—because it gave him the reputation of being the sort of man who would try to cheat his way out of a challenge.23 19

For the two procedures in the case of Dionysiac khore¯giai, and the grounds of statutory exemption, see Ath.Pol. 56.3 with Rhodes (1981: 624–625). Antidosis is normally translated ‘exchange of property’, though as Gabrielsen (1987: 14–15) notes, the word is routinely used of the whole procedure (as in his view is the case here), and linguistically the object of exchange is normally the liturgy. 20 Some scholars have indeed doubted whether exchange was ever a feasible proposition (refs. in Rhodes 1998: 150 n. 26), but there are cases (e.g. Lys. 4.1n, Dem. 42.5–7) in which preliminary steps seem to have been taken of a type that are only comprehensible on the assumption that they might have proceeded to full exchange (thus Gabrielsen 1987: 16–20; Christ 1990: 161 n. 68). 21 He uses the plural dikai, which might be a loose description of a single diadikasia, though the possibility that it is a genuine plural is discussed with various suggestions by Carey (1989: 102). 22 The damage to his philotimia is noted by Gabrielsen (1987: 37–38) and by P. J. Wilson (2000: 179 with n. 92). The speaker’s redundant assertion that these are ‘private dikai’ (the word dike¯ denotes a private case, without needing the adjective) may be an attempt to reduce the damage to his public reputation. 23 The speculation that Simon’s alleged under-valuation of his property could have been as the speaker’s opponent in the litigation mentioned here is discussed at §24n, where it is noted however that the passage in question uses a term for ‘valuation’ which is not normal in liturgical contexts.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§20–21

325

καταϕρονήσας µου οὑτωσὶ τολµηρῶς (‘grew so recklessly contemptuous of me’). This is rather an unusual example of contempt in the Orators, because although it is a sign of Simon’s excessive self-conﬁdence (for the rôle played in this speech by tolma, see §1n), nevertheless to choose one’s opponent’s moment of weakness as an opportunity to display one’s contempt towards him is not in itself inappropriate behaviour (for the normally transgressive overtones of kataphroneo¯, see 9.2n). For the pretence of contempt as an aspect of enmity, see Isok. 16.11. τοὺς παραγενοµένους (‘those who were present’). Once again the appeal to bystanders (see §12n) as independent witnesses, though it is not clear to us (as it would presumably have been clear to the court, who would hear their testimony) precisely which parts of the action in §§15–20 are covered by their presence.

§§21–45 Proof The argument in this speech is carefully constructed. There is, as Carey (1989: 102) notes, no attempt to prove that the speaker did not wound Simon, but considerable trouble is taken to refute the details of Simon’s version of events. This focuses primarily on the purported contract for Theodotos’ sexual services at §§22–26, and on the charge of premeditation at §§28–34, separated by a brief rebuttal of the allegation of aggression in the ﬁght outside Simon’s house at §27 (for detailed analysis, see Bateman 1958a: 124–126). Less tightly structured are the arguments in support of the speaker’s own version (general demonstration of non-aggression at §§35–37, leading to hypothetical argument from rôle-reversal at §38, and concluding with attack on Simon’s delay in prosecuting at §39). This is followed by legal arguments about the proper function of the law on premeditated wounding (§§40–43), and ﬁnally an attack on Simon’s character (§§44–45). §21. καὶ ἐµοῦ καὶ τῶν µαρτύρων (‘both from my lips and from the witnesses’). The primacy given to the speaker’s rôle is revealing: whereas a modern advocate uses witnesses to tell a story, the Athenian litigant calls witnesses only to conﬁrm his version, himself remaining both protagonist and narrator. τὴν αὐτὴν γνώµην (‘the same attitude’). A very common phrase in Lysias, which occurs twenty times in the forensic speeches alone. Normally, however, it is predicated of the jury, calling on them either to share the same opinion as the speaker (e.g. 1.1; 25.15), or that of some other moral authority (like the laws, 1.35); or else not to share the same opinion as the opponent (7.24; 24.14), or that of some morally negative paradigm (like ‘the sykophants’, 25.3). What is unusual about the present passage is the fact that the gno¯me¯ in question is that of the opponent, and the proposition that if this were the same as the speaker’s, then that would help the jury in its task of making a just decision between them. Given that this decision would be made ‘after hearing both of us tell the truth’, it seems most likely that what he means by gno¯me¯ here is not so much ‘opinion’ but rather ‘attitude towards truthfulness’. τῶν ὅρκων ὧν διωµόσατο (‘the dio¯mosia which he has sworn’). On the dio¯mosia, see 4.4n.

326

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§21–22

πειράσοµαι καὶ . . . διδάσκειν (‘I shall try also to explain’), i.e. ‘as well as myself telling the truth’.

Arguments from the contract for sexual services (§§22–26) §22. ὡς αὐτὸς µὲν τριακοσίας δραχµὰς ἔδωκε Θεοδότῳ (‘that he himself gave Theodotos 300 drachmas’). Evidence for amounts paid to prostitutes is collected by Halperin (1990: 107–112) and by Loomis (1998: 166–85, with 309–312 and 334–335), but comparison of prices is made difﬁcult by the speaker’s failure to specify the period covered by the alleged sum here. For the relationship between this sum and Simon’s total property, see §24n. συνθήκας (‘agreement’). The terms sunthe¯kai (here) and sumbolaion (at §26) both denote a formal contractual agreement,24 but do not necessarily signify an agreement recorded in writing, as would be the case if the word used had been sungraphai. It is notable that the speaker does not challenge Simon to present documentary evidence, though he does assert that Simon ought to have been able to produce witnesses (see next-but-one note). Presumably what is envisaged here is an exclusive contract (cf. §24n τ ν /ταιρσοντα) for Theodotos to live with Simon and provide sexual services in return for 300 drachmas (see previous note).25 The legality of any such agreement is difﬁcult to determine, because of the uncertainties surrounding Theodotos’ age and the contested question of his status (see further p. 277 above and pp. 279–281 above respectively). No legal difﬁculties are created by Simon’s claim if Theodotos is a free non-citizen. If he is a slave, then the agreement would in itself be legal, though we would expect it to have required the consent of his owner, as noted at p. 280 with n. 24 above. If however he is a citizen, the question of his age also becomes relevant. Aiskhines claims that any citizen who had been a prostitute lost the right to hold public ofﬁce,26 though Theodotos may not have been bothered by this. However, he also makes clear that in the case of a citizen boy, it was a serious offence not just for a parent or guardian to hire him out for prostitution but also for a client to hire his services (Aiskhin. 1.13).27 If therefore Theodotos is a citizen, then for Simon to 24 At least insofar as any agreement at Athens can be described as a contract: my reservations on this question are set out in Todd (1993: 264–268). The use of standard contractual terminology in this passage is emphasised by E. E. Cohen (2000c: 111–112). 25 Thus Carey (1989: 102–103), though Vianello de Córdova (1990b: 28) appears to envisage the possibility of an agreement with multiple sexual partners. 26 This is certainly true of those who prostituted themselves as adults (Aiskhin. 1.19), though the contrast with 1.13 and 1.18 may suggest that this restriction was not imposed for prostitution by those who were still boys. 27 He also claims (Aiskhin. 1.72, and cf. 1.87) that hiring any Athenian (i.e. adult as well as boy) for prostitution renders the client liable to severe penalties, which if true would apply to the present case if Theodotos were a citizen whatever his age. But the argument of Dover (1978: 28), that Aiskhines is here presenting an illicit extension of the law quoted and discussed at 1.12–13, has been accepted by the majority of scholars: thus e.g. Cantarella (1992: 50), MacDowell (2000: 27), Fisher (2001: 209), though D. Cohen (1987: 5–6; 1991b: 181) is prepared at least to contemplate the possibility that Aiskhin. 1.72 may refer to a separate statute.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§22–23

327

have made this claim would seem extremely risky unless Theodotos was already adult at the time of the agreement. It is however worth noting that we possess only the speaker’s side of the story, which is perhaps intentionally difﬁcult to follow. Carey (1997: 82) argues that Lysias’ evasiveness here suggests that Simon is telling the truth about his agreement with Theodotos, but I wonder whether the trick may rather be one of overstatement. It is difﬁcult to imagine Lysias getting away with inventing the whole idea, but he could perhaps be deliberately (and indeed outrageously) inﬂating a much less explicit claim on Simon’s part, along the lines that his expensive gifts to Theodotos surely created reciprocal obligations (see further §24n below). ἐπιβουλεύσας ἀπέστησα αὐτοῦ (‘turned against him by means of a plot’). The verb aphiste¯mi tends to have connotations of causing someone to escape from the control of a legitimate authority,28 which may mean that Lysias is seeking to parody Simon’s claim as excessive. For the use in this speech of epibouleuo¯ (to plot), see §29n. παρακαλέσαντα µάρτυρας ὡς πλείστους κατὰ τοὺς νόµους διαπράττεσθαι περὶ αὐτῶν (‘to have called as many supporting witnesses as possible and dealt with the matter according to the laws’). Witnesses rather than documents are the standard way of demonstrating the existence of a legal transaction in Athenian courts, but there is considerable ambiguity in this sentence,29 and it is left unclear (perhaps deliberately) whether these are witnesses to the original agreement or to a demand for restitution.30 For the uncertainty over the legal processes envisaged here, see §26n. §23. ἀµϕοτέρους ἡµᾶς (‘both of us’), i.e. Theodotos as well as the speaker. The emphasis would be even stronger if with Albini we retain the ms αmµα (‘both of us at once’), which most editors since Taylor have deleted. κωµάζων (‘took part in a ko¯mos’). Accidentally omitted in Todd (2000a: 48). For the ko¯mos, see p. 351 n. 13 below. τὰς θύρας ἐκβάλλων καὶ νύκτωρ εἰσιὼν ἐπὶ γυναῖκας ἐλευθέρας (‘battered down the doors, and entered by night into the presence of free-born women’). Picking up from §6 in the narrative. Whereas previously we were told simply that the women were the speaker’s relatives, here the status-implications of that are emphasised: for the emotional charge of the term ‘free-born’, see Dover (1974: 286). α (‘this’). Presumably the reference is primarily to Simon’s failure to proceed as 28 More commonly intransitive than transitive: it can be used of escaped slaves (e.g. Lys. 23.7) or rebellious subject-allies (Lys. 14.35, Isok. 16.20), but it can be found transitively (as here) to denote the incitement of allies to revolt (Lys. 25.19). 29 περ ατν presumably denotes the agreement (or perhaps the drachmas) rather than the witnesses, but κατα` τοZ ν*µου could refer to παρακαλ σαντα or to διαπρα´ττεσθαι. 30 διαπρα´ττεσθαι could I suppose be a highly cryptic reference to serving a summons, but in that case we might expect the witnesses to be described as kle¯te¯res rather than as martures.

328

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§23–24

outlined in the ﬁnal sentence of §22, to which his contrary behaviour in §23 is a contributory factor. τεκµήρια (‘evidence’). For the use of tekme¯rion (‘proof/sign’) in Lysias, see 4.12n. §24. τὴν γὰρ οὐσίαν τὴν ἑαυτοῦ απασαν . . . ἐτιµήσατο (‘he has valued his own property in its entirety’). The context for this valuation is unstated, but invites some interesting speculations. Timaomai and its cognate nouns time¯ma and time¯sis are used frequently in certain lawcourt proceedings, most notably the assessment of proposed judicial penalties (see 1.29n, 6.21n), and also the valuation of items to be conﬁscated by apographe¯ (for which see pp. 590–591 below), but for Simon to have valued his own property in such contexts would imply that he had done this as defendant following conviction in a previous trial, and it is inconceivable that Lysias would have ignored such an opportunity to damage him. The words are also used of property valued in connection with a dowry (Isai. 3.35, Dem. 47.57), but we would expect such a valuation to apply to a particular piece of land rather than the totality of a man’s estate. The only other context of which I am aware is that of taxation: the terminology does not seem to have been used of liability to liturgies, but it is regularly used in the context of self-declaration for the eisphora (Gabrielsen 1994: 53–54).31 This hypothesis however has an important corollary, because the eisphora was a tax imposed only on rich Athenians: the smallest property liable is disputed,32 but it was clearly well above 250 drachmas, and for Simon even to have had to respond to the suggestion that he might be liable implies that he may have been a lot more wealthy than is alleged here. Further speculation is dangerous, but I wonder whether Lysias may be twisting an assertion by Simon that his lavish gifts to Theodotos (see §22n) had left him with only 250 drachmas in cash, and therefore less wealthy than would be suggested by his visible property. τὸν ἑταιρήσοντα . . . ἐµισθώσατο (‘hired somebody to be his lover’). For the relationship between hetaireo¯ (as here) and porneuomai see Aiskhin. 1.51–52 with Dover (1978: 21–22), who argues that it is partly an objective distinction (hetaire¯sis tends to denote a more stable relationship with a single client, whereas porne¯ has overtones of a brothel),33 but notes that there is considerable scope for 31 For eisphora and liturgies, see §47n. The non-use of timaomai in liturgical contexts renders less plausible the (otherwise attractive) speculation that Simon had been the speaker’s opponent in the antidosis mentioned at §20, though antidosis is a context in which you would want to know the other man’s wealth and which seems to have relied on self-declaration. 32 Scholars generally suggest that it will have been lower than the 3–4 talents which seem to have formed an informal minimum census for liturgies (see §47n). 33 Whereas porneuomai etymologically denotes being ‘put up for sale’, hetaireo¯ is ‘to be a companion’, the implications of which are long-term and in some sense exclusive: in a different semantic ﬁeld, masc. hetairos is used of the members of a hetaireia or aristocratic sworn brotherhood, and although this will contain multiple hetairoi, you can only (so far as we know) be a member of one hetaireia. (The etymological link with hetaireiai, which tend after 411 bc to have oligarchic connotations, may have made hetairos-language problematic when used of males, in a way that did not apply when used of females.)

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§24–26

329

persuasive deﬁnition, with hetaireo¯ being a much less unfavourable term. This certainly ﬁts the pattern of usage in Lysias, where Theodotos is treated much more positively than is the slave-woman in the following speech: it is notable that the hetairos-root is never used in Lys. 4, but the pornos-root is used twice at 4.9 and 4.19,34 whereas pornos and cognates do not appear in the present speech, with hetaireo¯ instead appearing here and hetaira at §43. (For the non-use of ero¯menos in this speech, see §5n.) §25. ἀλλὰ καὶ κεκοµίσθαι ϕησί (‘but he even claims to have recovered it’). The cleverness of the argument here lies in its separation from §22: Simon will presumably have claimed that the speaker had ﬁrst induced a breach of contract before subsequently trying to buy his silence, but Lysias is able to represent this as a far-fetched addition to his original story, and then uses it to set up the double dilemma of §26. ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἀπεµαχεσάµεθα (‘after winning the ﬁght’). Bringing the ﬁght to a successful conclusion (this is the force of the apo-) would on the face of it provide good reason for the victors not to pay off the loser, but Carey (1989: 104) rightly notes the danger that increased enmity might make Simon more likely to take legal action to recover whatever money that might have been due to him. µήτε ἀϕειµένους τῶν ἐγκληµάτων µήτε ἀνάγκης ἡµῖν µηδεµίας γενοµένης (‘when we had received no formal release from legal charges, and when there was no obligation on us’). Aphesis is a formal undertaking not to press charges, which after the introduction of paragraphe¯ could be used in order to block subsequent proceedings (Dem. 36.14–17; 37.1; 38.1). For enkle¯ma (in this case the threat of an indictment rather than the indictment itself), see p. 284 n. 39 above; for anagke¯, see §3n. §26. σύγκειται καὶ µεµηχάνηται (‘has been devised and constructed’). Neither word is particularly common in Lysias. Sunkeimai can be used in a positive sense to denote what has been agreed (as at 6.41 and 17.3), or as part of the vocabulary of plotting (here and 12.49); me¯khanaomai in its only two verbal uses in Lysias has negative connotations (here and at 1.28), though the noun me¯khane¯ can be used positively to denote all means in one’s power (19.11, 19.53). εἰ µηδενὸς αὐτῷ συµβολαίου γεγενηµένου τοιαῦτα ἐτόλµα ὑβρίζειν (‘if without having had an agreement he dared to treat the young man with such hubris’). For sumbolaion, see §22n; for hubris in this speech, see §5n; for Simon’s tolma, see §1n. ἐγκαλέσας οὐδέποτ’ ἀργύριον (‘he never brought a prosecution to claim the money’), lit. ‘he never brought an enkle¯ma: see p. 284 n. 39 above. Precisely what legal process Simon is envisaged as failing to use is unclear: perhaps a dike¯ 34

It may be signiﬁcant, of course, that the speaker of Lys. 4 claims that there was joint ownership and therefore shared access.

330

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§26–28

khreo¯s against Theodotos for debt, or a dike¯ blabe¯s against the speaker for damages.

Rebuttal of aggression in the ﬁght outside Simon’s house (§27) §27. ϕησὶ δ’ ἐπὶ ταῖς αὑτοῦ θύραις (‘he alleges that . . . in front of his own doors’). Evidently a reference to the alleged ﬁrst stage of the ﬁght outside the houses of Lysimakhos and Simon (§§11–14: cf. esp. §14 for Simon’s version of that episode). πλέον ἢ τέτταρα στάδια (‘for a distance of more than four stadia’). A new detail, held back with some effect (see p. 285 above) to weaken the force of Simon’s claims. The four stadia (about half a mile) is presumably the distance which Simon will have had to travel from his rented house either to the fuller’s shop of Molon or to Lampon’s house (§§16–17): for the impact of this topographical argument on the audience, see p. 276 above. πλέον ἢ διακοσίων ἰδόντων ἀνθρώπων (‘more than two hundred people saw him’). Not an implausibly large number, if we remember that these events took place in daytime and involved not simply the episode in Molon’s shop but several chases through the streets. The speaker is not offering to produce them all as witnesses, though he may wish to make it sound as if he could.

Rebuttal of premeditation (§§28–34) §28. ἤλθοµεν ἐπὶ τὴν οἰκίαν τὴν τούτου (‘we came to his house’). The likelihood is that this must be a reference back to the narrative, in which case it presumably represents Simon’s version of the initial stages of the ﬁghting at §§11–14; it is not a particularly close match, because the narrative makes no mention of the carrying of pottery, nor of any attempt by Theodotos and the speaker to enter Simon’s house.35 It is of course in Lysias’ interests to make the behaviour attributed to his client appear senseless, but possible motives can be constructed: Carey (1989: 90–91) notes Simon’s claim at §25 to have been repaid after the ﬁghting, and speculates about previous requests for restitution which might have led the speaker to seek him out in order to intimidate him. ὄστρακον ἔχοντες (‘carrying pottery’). Ostrakon can denote either a whole vessel or its broken pieces (LSJ s.v.). The legal signiﬁcance of this is discussed at p. 283 above. For the rôle of pottery as an informal weapon—with potentially jagged edges—in a world without ready access to broken glass, see Todd (2000a: 53); Naber (1905: 74) suggested emending the text to στυρα´κιον (spear), which seems

35 It would be tempting to see it as a reference to an entirely new set of events (e.g. to an allegation by Simon that Theodotos and the speaker had come round subsequently and threatened him), but the failure of Lysias’ narrative to mention what is evidently a major part of the opponent’s case would seem an unnecessarily risky strategy, particularly if it is the carrying of pottery that constitutes the basis of Simon’s trauma ek pronoias charge (see p. 283 above).

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§28–29

331

unnecessary in the light of 4.6, though there the pottery is evidently something picked up on site rather than brought by its alleged user. καὶ ὡς τοῦτό ἐστιν ἡ πρόνοια (‘and that this constitutes “premeditation” ’). Devries (1892: 44) detects a note of irony here, in what is the ﬁrst direct mention of pronoia in the speech. Given that the defence denies premeditation, the absence of the word from the narrative is not perhaps surprising; it is denied repeatedly and explicitly throughout the arguments that follow (noun at §34, §41, §43, and cognate verb at §29, §37, §41, §42). For the legal meaning of the term, see p. 283 above. ὑµῖν τοῖς εἰωθόσι (‘you (who are experienced)’). More ﬂattery of the Areiopagos, for which see §2n. The fact that former members of the college of Nine Arkhons became members for life of the Areiopagos will have given it a collective continuity which the dikastic courts, for all the individual experience of individual dikastai, did not possess. §29. προνοηθεὶς καὶ ἐπιβουλεύων (‘premeditated and plotted’). Pronoia here is linked with the vocabulary of plotting, for which see §2n and §26n. Epibouleuo¯ is used frequently in this speech, initially as an assertion about Simon (§15), but chieﬂy as something for the speaker sarcastically to deny (here and at §22, §34, §39; cf. 1.40n); for its tendency elsewhere in the corpus to take on political connotations, see 7.3n. The connection between the two ideas is being carefully established here, preparing the way for the restrictive deﬁnition of premeditation that is presented at §§41–42. ἦλθον ἐπὶ τὴν Σίµωνος οἰκίαν µεθ’ ἡµέραν (‘came to Simon’s house in daytime’). The only explicit statement that the events happened in daytime, though this has been implied by the narrative at §11. µετὰ τοῦ µειρακίου (‘with the young man’). Despite the disagreement over what took place at or outside Simon’s house (see §28n), both parties evidently agreed that Theodotos and the speaker were together at this stage. It is in Lysias’ interests to emphasise the point, because he wants to use Theodotos’ alleged inability to contribute signiﬁcant ﬁghting power as a way of undermining Simon’s version of events (explicit at §33, but already hinted at here in εQ 6ν ‘on my own’). There might of course be other reasons for the speaker’s taking Theodotos with him to Simon’s door, such as the desire to parade his sexual conquest (cf. §11n). τοσούτων ἀνθρώπων παρ’ αὐτῷ συνειλεγµένων (‘when there were so many people gathered there’). ‘The argument is on the whole weak. The ﬁrst two items [coming in daytime and bringing Theodotos] are valid only if the third is true, and this in turn is a valid objection only if the speaker had previous knowledge of this gathering. All this is disguised, however, by the attack on Simon which shifts the attention of the judges from the facts to the person’ (Bateman 1958a: 46). εἰς τοῦτο µανίας (‘such a level of insanity’). For the use of terms signifying madness in this speech, see §7n.

332

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§29–33

ἐπιθυµεῖν (‘was passionate’). For epithumeo¯, see §4n. ἐπὶ τὴν ἐµὴν οἰκίαν ϕοιτῶν εἰσῄει βίᾳ (‘he had visited my house and entered it by force’). It is hard in English to catch the (perhaps deliberately) misleading nuance of phoitao¯, which denotes ‘repeated motion’ (LSJ, s.v.) rather than a one-off visit. The preliminary anecdote at §§6–8 may have been peripheral to the events of §§11–18 which seem to have formed the basis of Simon’s prosecution, but here it is made the basis of an effective tu quoque argument. ἐξευρὼν οὗ δειπνῶν ἐτύγχανον (‘after ﬁnding out where I happened to be dining’). For the implication that the speaker was dining away from home, see §7n. §30. συµϕορὰν ἐµαυτοῦ (‘my own misfortune’). In the sense of ‘something I would have to put up with’. For sumphora in this speech, see §9n. §31. εἰ µὲν ἦν παρὰ τούτῳ τὸ µειράκιον (‘if the young man had been living with him’). The argument ignores the possibility that the speaker was seeking to parade his sexual conquest: cf. §29n. ἠναγκαζόµην (‘compelled’). For compulsion, see §3n. ἀνοητότερον (‘more stupid’). See §7n. οὐδὲ διελέγετο, ἀλλ’ ἐµίσει (‘he [sc. Theodotos] was not even on speaking terms . . . but hated him’). No evidence is offered for the latter claim, beyond a tendency to think in polar opposites. παρ’ ἐµοὶ δ’ ἐτύγχανε διαιτώµενον (‘was living with me instead’). The fact that ‘staying with Lysimakhos’ (§11) can be glossed here as ‘living with me’ implies that it was the speaker who had arranged for Theodotos to stay there, which in turn suggests that this may have been intended as deliberate provocation to Simon (see §11n). §32. πρότερον µὲν ἐξέπλευσα (‘that at ﬁrst I sailed away’). Referring back to §10; exepleusa makes clear what was not explicit in the narrative, that they went by sea rather than simply going from Athens into Attica, but ekho¯n here for labo¯n there is probably just variatio. §33. οὕτω δὲ ἦλθον ἀπαράσκευος (‘given that I arrived like this unprepared’). The argument from unpreparedness is a commonplace in cases of actual and attempted homicide (see 1.39–42; 4.6–7). Indeed, Simon himself could probably have applied the same argument to his arrival at the speaker’s door in §6. µήτε οἰκέτας (‘[n]or slaves’). For the use of slave-terminology in Lysias and other orators, see 1.41n. παιδίον (‘child’). The only occasion on which the term paidion is used in the speech. It normally denotes a small child, but Lysias is prepared elsewhere to be

3. Against Simon: Commentary §33

333

ﬂexible over the use of the word.36 To describe Theodotos in such terms, even in the context of an episode four years before the date of the speech, is at ﬁrst sight surprising. Given that words like pais can be used to denote slaves as well as children, some scholars have therefore suggested that it refers not to Theodotos but to a slave of the speaker (Dobree 1874: 194, Blass 1887 [1868]: 586 n. 3, and most recently Cairns 2002).37 The arguments against this hypothesis, however, are well marshalled by Bushala (1968: 66–68), who notes Lysias’ readiness to use paidion of older children (cf. above), though his argument that Lysias nowhere else uses the term explicitly of slaves is perhaps less persuasive, given the proximity here to language which is strongly suggestive of slavery (see following notes on µην'σαι and βασανιζ*µενον). Bushala’s strongest point, however, arises from consideration of the structure of the narrative: the present passage, with its claim that the speaker is accused of going to Simon’s house accompanied only by ‘this paidion’, is clearly a paraphrase of the allegation reported at §29 that he and Theodotos went there together. The reason for describing Theodotos here and only here as a paidion is presumably to pre-empt any suggestion that the speaker might have intended him to be an ally in the ﬁghting; the suggestion of physical weakness is further emphasised by the use of edunato with overtones of (limited) strength, rather than e.g. exesti. µηνῦσαι (‘denouncing’). Despite the argument of Bushala that Lysias nowhere uses the term paidion explicitly of slaves (see previous note), its proximity to me¯nusai as well as to basanizomenon suggests a deliberate attempt to play on the servile connotations of the terms. Although me¯nuo¯ can be used of non-slaves (e.g. of Andokides in 6.23), it is the characteristic term to denote the provision of information by a slave who has not given this under torture, but has instead taken the initiative in bringing a serious offence to the knowledge of the authorities in the hope of freedom following a conviction (thus e.g. 5.5; 7.16).38 On me¯nusis, see R. G. Osborne (2000: 81–90). The attempt to confuse Theodotos’ status is discussed further at p. 281 above. βασανιζόµενον (‘under torture’). Unless Theodotos really is a slave (which in my view is unlikely, for reasons noted at p. 280 above), the hypothesis that he might have been liable to give evidence under torture is legally problematic. We do know of cases in which torture was used against free non-citizens accused of treason (e.g. Aiskhin. 3.224), and some scholars have suggested that this principle might 36

Pseudo-Hippokrates (On Sevens, §5, cited with caution at p. 277 n. 12 above) applies it up to the age of 7. Lysias uses it of the baby throughout speech 1, of a hypothetical posthumous baby in 13.42, and of a group of orphans (age unspeciﬁed) at 19.33. He does however extend its use at 32.5 to cover Diodotos’ children at their father’s death, the eldest of whom must then have been aged 10, and applies it again at 32.20 to the cost of maintaining them throughout their guardianship. If teenagers in antiquity had appetites comparable to some at least of their modern counterparts, this is a singularly persuasive use of language. 37 The speaker on this hypothesis will have made his meaning clear with a gesture accompanying the το'το, but such non-verbal signals are of course lost to us. 38 For the rhetoric of natural enmity between slaves and masters in these speeches see 5.5 and 7.35.

334

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§33–35

have extended to homicide and trauma ek pronoias courts also (thus Lipsius 1905–15: 895), but Carey (1988: 244) has rightly noted the strong inference to the contrary that can be drawn from Lys. 4.12–18, where the argument depends on the proposition that if the slave-prostitute in a parallel trauma ek pronoias case had been manumitted, she would therefore have been unavailable for torture.39 In order to avoid these problems, it has occasionally been suggested (Guggenheim 1882: 22–23; E. E. Cohen 2000b: 128 n. 63) that what is being referred to here is not evidence given under torture but some other form of interrogation, but this seems implausible. Admittedly the noun basanos (as might be suggested by its core meaning of ‘touchstone’ for testing gold) is sometimes used to denote a ‘test’ other than torture (usually metaphorical, as at 12.31, 26.17, Hyp. Philipp. §11, and Isai. 9.29, cf. other possible examples at Andok. 1.30, Andok. 2.25, Dem. Exord. 49.3), but for the verb basanizo¯ such a meaning is almost never found in the Orators.40 In the light of this, we must surely conclude that torture is what is being envisaged here: I have suggested at p. 281 above that this is part of a deliberate attempt by Lysias to play on the ambiguities of Theodotos’ status. §34. εἰς τοσοῦτο ἀµαθίας (‘such a level of stupidity’). Once again, he ignores the possibility of deliberate provocation. For amathia, see §7n. οὐκ ἐτήρησα (‘I did not keep a look-out’). The contrast is with Simon, who allegedly did place look-outs at §11. ἢ νύκτωρ ἢ µεθ’ ἡµέραν (‘either by night or by day’). The ﬁrst being the context of Simon’s alleged attack on the speaker’s house (§6, cf. §23), the second being that of the events of §§12–18 (see §11n, §29n). ὑπὸ πλειστῶν ὀϕθήσεσθαι (‘to be seen by very many people’). It would be interesting to know whether Simon responded by claiming that the behaviour attributed to him at §27 was similarly implausible because he would not have behaved like that in front of so many witnesses. Lysias makes no effort here to deal with the possibility that Simon might have witnesses to his client’s alleged behaviour here, but presumably he thinks he has already dismissed them at §12 as Simon’s drinking cronies. ὥσπερ κατ’ ἐµαυτοῦ τὴν πρόνοιαν ἐξευρίσκων (‘as if it were against myself that I was employing premeditation’). Another touch of irony, as at §28.

Arguments in support of speaker’s narrative (§§35–39) §35. ἐκ τῆς µάχης τῆς γενοµένης (‘from the details of the ﬁght’). See §18n. The structure of the argument at §§35–39 is discussed by Bateman (1958a: 127–129), 39 Carey’s argument is similarly conclusive against Lacombrade’s suggestion (1973: 23) that the threat to torture Theodotos was because his occupation placed him in a state of ‘servile dependence’. 40 The only possible forensic example known to me is Harpok. s.v. basanisas, which says that Deinarkhos in the lost speech Against Proxenos (frag. 4 Conomis) used the term as a synonym for dokimasas (‘testing’), but offers no context.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§35–38

335

who notes that the ostensible aim is to disprove pronoia, but suggests that the primary purpose is to stigmatise Simon’s prosecution as motivated by malice. ῥῖψαν θοἰµάτιον, ϕεῦγον ᾤχετο (‘he tore off his cloak and ran away’). Verbal reminiscence of §12 (ψα τ !µα´τιον, though without precise repetition: as noted at p. 285 above, the foreshadowing of argument by narrative here is rather too predictable to be effective. §36. ϕεύγουσι µέν . . . διώκουσι δέ . . . (‘the people who ﬂee . . . whereas the ones who pursue . . .’). Or ‘the defendants . . . whereas the prosecutors . . .’: it is impossible to catch the play on words here in translation. Simon of course would argue that the affair began at §12, but the speaker’s emphasis on ﬂeeing and pursuing focuses attention on the events of §§17–19. §37. ἐντυχών (‘happened to meet’). Re-emphasising the chance nature of the meeting, as at §17n. τούτων µὲν οὐχ ἡπτόµην (‘it was not them I touched’). It is difﬁcult to envisage that he could expect to detach Theodotos without making any contact with those holding him, but it is important for him not to admit to having offered them any violence. ὑπὸ τῶν παραγενοµένων µεµαρτύρηται (‘has been testiﬁed to you by those who were present’). On bystanders, see §12n. προνοηθῆναι (‘guilty of premeditation’). See §28n. §38. τί δ’ αν ποτε ἔπαθον (‘what would have been my fate’). Bateman (1962: 163–164) notes that this type of emotional argument is unusual in Lysias, but suggests that its structure as an argument from contraries serves to reinforce the argument about premeditation in §37. καταλαβὼν αγειν βίᾳ ἐζήτουν (‘caught him and tried to drag him off by force’). It is in fact Theodotos rather than the speaker who had allegedly suffered this fate, but by phrasing the reverse hypothesis in this way, Lysias succeeds in representing Theodotos as sharing the speaker’s interests. As Carey (1989: 108) points out, depicting the speaker, as well as Theodotos, as Simon’s victim is a way of sidestepping the objection that the speaker’s decision to get involved in the ﬁght was not strictly speaking self-defence. καὶ περὶ τῆς πατρίδος καὶ τῆς οὐσίας (‘fatherland and . . . property’). For the combination of these two terms as a single judicial penalty (i.e. exile and conﬁscation), see e.g. 7.3. We might have expected him to speak of the polis, which is in general a much more common word than patris (fatherland), but Lysias is if anything more ready to speak of patris than of polis in this particular type of context (cf. in this speech §40, §42, §43, §44, §47).41 41 He tends to speak of exile from the polis either in hypothetical cases (as at 1.44), or else those involving third parties (6.29; 12.57): it is possible that patris (for which see also 2.17n) has more emotional pull in cases where the speaker is directly threatened.

336

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§39–40

§39. ἀδικηθεὶς καὶ ἐπιβουλευθεὶς ὑπ’ ἐµοῦ (‘has been wronged by me and has been the victim of my plotting’). For the language of plotting in this speech, see §26n, §29n. τεττάρων ἐτῶν ἐπισκήψασθαι εἰς ὑµᾶς (‘to bring you an episke¯psis for four years’). In some categories of case, there was a statutory time-limit (prothesmia), normally of ﬁve years, after which prosecutions could not be brought (details at 7.17n). On balance we may suspect that there was no prothesmia in the present case, because of the connection between homicide (and potentially therefore trauma ek pronoias) and blood-guilt. But even if the time-limit did apply, it would not be in Lysias’ interests to draw attention to the proposition that Simon has only just kept within it, since he can make much more capital out the unreasonableness of a four-year delay. Episke¯psis denotes a formal undertaking to initiate legal proceedings, usually (though not here) in cases of false testimony: see Harrison (1968–71.ii: 192–195). The four-year delay refers back to §19, though there the legal term was enkle¯ma (indictment). παράχρηµα τιµωρεῖσθαι (‘immediately to be avenged’). For prosecution as an act involving vengeance, see 1.3n. Vengeance can be a reﬂection of a long-standing feud, but enmity in Greek thought is something that ought to be publicly avowed rather than kept secret (see Dover 1974: 182 for both these propositions). On this basis, there is something improper about a man who, being your enemy, does not take the opportunity to prosecute you when he has the chance to do so.

Arguments from the law on premeditated wounding (§§40–43) §40. ἱκανῶς ἀποδεδεῖχθαι νοµίζω (‘I think it has been adequately demonstrated’). Summing up the arguments of fact in §§21–39, and marking the transition to the legal arguments of §§40–43. καταγεὶς τὴν κεϕαλήν (‘I had had my head broken’). On the connection between head-injuries and trauma ek pronoias, cf. §8n. οὐκ ἐτόλµησα αὐτῷ ἐπισκήψασθαι (‘I did not have the audacity to bring an episke¯psis’). For the speaker’s forbearance, see §1n; for episke¯psis, see §39n. εἰ αρα περὶ παίδων ἐϕιλονικήσαµεν ἡµεῖς πρὸς ἀλλήλους (‘simply because we had perhaps quarrelled with each other over boys’).42 Considerable care is taken to represent the hypothetical quarrel (and therefore by implication the real one) as something for which both parties are equally responsible.

42 The text translated here is that of Carey’s OCT, which accepts the MS reading paido¯n (the standard word for ‘boys’). Many editors, including previously Carey (1989: 109) have preferred a conjecture proposed in a secondary manuscript (paidiko¯n, from n. pl. paidika, meaning ‘boy’ speciﬁcally as sex object), partly as difﬁcilior lectio, but partly also because it removes the need to explain the plural. But ‘boys’ (pl.) are described as the objects of cruising at Lys. 4.7 (Thalheim 1913 [1901]: 46), and as Carey has pointed out to me, ‘the trouble with paidika (it now seems to me) is its explicitness in a text which strives to be circumspect.’

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§40–42

337

ἐξελάσαι τινὰς ζητῆσαι ἐκ τῆς πατρίδος (‘to seek to throw people out of their fatherland’). See §38n. §41. οὐδεµίαν . . . πρόνοιαν εἶναι τραύµατος ὅστις µὴ ἀποκτεῖναι βουλόµενος ἔτρωσε (‘that there could be no premeditation in wounding if somebody wounded without intent to kill’). Since it is obviously in the speaker’s interest to criticise Simon for using an inappropriate legal procedure, some scholars have questioned the value of the argument here that the intention to kill rather than simply to wound is intrinsic to trauma ek pronoias, but it does receive support in Lys. 4 (details at p. 283 above). As Carey (1989: 109) notes, however, even if the argument is accepted, it raises the question of how such intention is to be proved,43 and whether a person who intended to cause injury short of death could be held responsible for what might have been the consequences. εὐήθης (‘naïve’). See §7n. ὅστις ἐκ πολλοῦ προνοεῖται ὅπως ἕλκος τις αὐτοῦ τῶν ἐχθρῶν λήψεται (‘that he premeditates long in advance the way in which one of his enemies should receive a wound’). The use of helkos (for which see §43n) rather than trauma may indicate that care is being taken with this argument: if Hansen (cited at p. 283 above) is right to suggest that trauma was regarded as a subset of homicide, then pronoia necessarily denotes an intention to go beyond wounding. §42. οἱ τοὺς νόµους ἐνθάδε θέντες (‘our legislators’). References to the lawgiver’s intention are common throughout the Orators: within the Lysianic corpus, the topos is found also in Lys. 1 (see 1.33n) and at 26.9. The present passage is unusual in speaking of legislators in the plural (the only parallels are at Isok. 20.2–3 and Dein. 2.16–17), and unusual also—at least in the Orators, though cf. Ath.Pol. 9.2—in its implied admission that legislation is an imperfect science, whose practitioners do the best they can to design general rules to deal in advance with complex situations. In comparison with Lysias and his contemporaries, the later Orators tend to use the topos of the legislator’s intention in a more personal and more conﬁdent way: for the anonymous ‘legislator’, they frequently substitute the name of Solon (refs. at 6.10n); they are also more ready to make ﬁrm assertions about the purpose for which the legislation was passed (e.g. Aiskhin. 1.183; 3.175; Dem. 23.79; 33.1–2; 45.44), though these are often phrased in very general terms and may represent no more than inferences from the perceived effect of the law at the time of the speech (itself a habit already seen at Lys. 26.9).

43 The fact that topoi such as use of even an informal weapon (refs. at p. 283 with n. 34 above) and injury to the face (refs. at §8n) each occur on more than one occasion in our sources suggest that they may have been widely regarded as signiﬁcant indicators, but it could well have been left to the court to accept what arguments it chose, rather than being the subject of statutory deﬁnition.

338

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§42–43

µαχεσάµενοι ἔτυχον ἀλλήλων κατάξαντες τὰς κεϕαλάς (‘happen to break each other’s heads while ﬁghting’). The emphasis on chance in the wording here cleverly undermines the hypothesis, because trauma ek pronoias is concerned with wounds which are in some sense deliberate. In addition, as previously in the legal arguments (see §40n), it is phrased in such a way as to imply that both parties are equally responsible. For the signiﬁcance of head injuries, see §8n. ἢ πολλούς γ’ αν ἐξήλασαν (‘or else they would have exiled a considerable number’). He is not saying that to have done this would have been penologically unsound, but rather that it is counterfactual. Presumably therefore he expects the jury to share the underlying premise of his argument, that such ﬁghts are frequent but are not normally punished in this way. To the extent that this is an accurate assessment—he may of course be exaggerating—it is relevant to the question of the levels of street violence that are regarded as acceptable in Athenian society: cf. the discussion at p. 51 n. 36 above of the Herman/D. Cohen debate on civic violence and honour-codes. ὅσοι ἐπιβουλεύσαντες ἀποκτεῖναί τινας ἔτρωσαν (‘those who wounded others after plotting to kill them’). For epibouleuo¯ in this speech, see §29n. περὶ τῶν τοιούτων τὰς τιµωρίας οὕτω µεγάλας κατεστήσαντο (‘it was in the case of people like this that they established such severe penalties’), i.e. as severe as the ones that he has just been talking about (viz., exile). Although the phrase megalai timo¯riai (lit. ‘great punishments’, as here) in the Orators can denote the death penalty (e.g. Dein. 1.23, and by implication at Dem. 18.12), nevertheless there are parallels for its use in non-capital cases: e.g. at Dem. 34.19 and 47.2, both of which concern false testimony, for which the penalty is normally a ﬁne. (By contrast, references to megistai [lit. ‘greatest’] timo¯riai seem always to denote capital punishment.) εἰ δὲ µὴ κατέσχον, οὐδὲν ἧττον τό γ’ ἐκείνων πεποιῆσθαι (‘even if they did not succeed, nevertheless they had done their best’), lit. ‘the deed had been done as far as they were concerned’. It is not clear who is being talked about here: possibly the lawgivers, who were certainly the ones who took the view in the previous clause (i.e. ‘even if they did not succeed ’), or possibly the assailants (‘even if they did not succeed , nevertheless they had done their best ’). The meaning is not signiﬁcantly affected by uncertainty over the text, for which see Carey (1989: 110). §43. οὕτω διέγνωτε (‘have given the same verdict’). No attempt is made to cite any precedents in support of this claim, though there is an assumption that it is desirable for a law court to be consistent in its interpretation of law.44 Arguments from precedent in the Athenian Orators seem to be primarily of sociological 44 Especially perhaps a court with continuity of membership, like the Areiopagos in the present case. Carawan (1998) views the Areiopagos and other homicide courts as developing a highly sophisticated jurisprudence in cases of homicide, but see p. 45 n. 12 above.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§43–44

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signiﬁcance, e.g. (as noted by Lanni 2004) in appealing for severe punishment of the defendant on the basis of cases that are in no way legally similar. ὅσοι . . . µαχόµενοι ἕλκος ἔλαβον (‘when people are wounded while ﬁghting’). The wording of this sentence is highly manipulative, with its embedded assumptions about the high frequency of ﬁghts (9σοι) and the low frequency of putative exiles (τινα´). The use and signiﬁcance of terminology for wounding in this speech is discussed by Vianello de Córdova (1990b: 23 with n. 31), who concludes that helkos (as here) is a bloody but superﬁcial injury, and notes the absence from this speech of one of Demosthenes’ favourite words (ple¯ge¯ ‘a blow’, which occurs nine times in Dem. 54, the speaker of which is a victim of an assault). ἐκ µέθης καὶ ϕιλονικίας ἢ ἐκ παιδιῶν ἢ ἐκ λοιδορίας ἢ περὶ ἑταίρας (‘because of drunkenness or quarrelling or horseplay or insults or over a hetaira’). Paidio¯n (from paidia, ‘games’) is a scribal conjecture, preferred over the manuscript reading paidiko¯n (from paidika, ‘boy conceived as sex object’, for which see §40n) for linguistic reasons set out by Carey (1989: 111): with paidiko¯n we would expect peri rather than ek (cf. peri hetairas), and the sequence of abstract and concrete nouns would be odd. A similar catalogue of causes of ﬁghts occurs at 4.7 (boys, ﬂute-girls, drinking): here there is more emphasis on intra-élite rivalry, and on the concept of a class of misbehaviour that is regarded as regrettable but licensed violence, at least so long as everybody involved agrees to bear no grudges when the hangover wears off—this of course being the part of the code which Simon has transgressed. µεγάλας καὶ δεινὰς τὰς τιµωρίας (‘severe and terrible penalties’). See last note but four.

Transitional passage: Simon’s character (§§44–45) §44. οὐ γὰρ τοῦ αὐτοῦ µοι δοκεῖ εἶναι (‘do not seem to me to be compatible’). Appeals to the jury to be consistent in convicting one’s opponents are frequent in the Orators (Dover 1974: 219, citing Dem. 20.135, Dem. 23.143, and Lyk. 1.140), but arguments from the inconsistency of one’s opponent’s character (as opposed to inconsistencies in his arguments) seem to be less common. Part of the reason for this is presumably that character-sketches of the opponent can afford to be caricatures: for the greater extent of individual characterisation of the speaker, especially as defendant, see Usher (1965: 119). ἐρᾶν τε καὶ συκοϕαντεῖν (‘being a lover and being a sykophant’). Precisely what Lysias means to suggest by describing Simon as a sykophant depends on the meaning of the term, which is contested (see 1.44n): either that he is bringing the prosecution for money in the hope of blackmailing the speaker to buy him off, or alternatively that the speaker ﬁnds his activities vexatious. The abrupt introduction of sykophancy here is at ﬁrst sight surprising, but Scodel (1986: 26) cites Dem. 40.32, Aiskhin. 2.93, and Aiskhin. 3.51 for the connection between trauma ek pronoias and blackmail, and suggests as an explanation that the penalty is high and the injuries easily faked.

340

3. Against Simon: Commentary §§44–45

τῶν εὐηθεστέρων (‘relatively straightforward people’). Here used in a positive sense: see §7n. αὐτὸς περὶ θανάτου ἠγωνίζετο (‘for him to be on trial for his life’). No explanation is given as to why Simon should be facing the death penalty, unless it is simply that the speaker wants to present him as the real offender, and that death is the only thing more severe than the penalty of exile and conﬁscation which he himself faces. §45. τὰ µὲν οὖν αλλα ἐάσω (‘I shall omit everything else’). Given that what follows is inadmissible (for the strict rules of relevance before the Areiopagos, see p. 282 above), there is a nice element of defensiveness here. It is however notable that despite his avowed awareness of the relevance rules, he still manages to get this anecdote in, albeit brieﬂy.45 τεκµήριον . . . τῆς τούτου θρασύτητος καὶ τόλµης (‘evidence of his outrageous insolence’). Once again Simon’s tolma (for which see §1n). It is perhaps surprising that no attempt is made to brand his conduct here as hubris, given the use of this term elsewhere in the speech (see §5n). For Lysias’ use of tekme¯rion (‘proof/sign’), see 4.12n. ἐν Κορίνθῳ γάρ, ἐπειδὴ ὕστερον ἦλθε τῆς πρὸς τοὺς πολεµίους µάχης καὶ τῆς εἰς Κορώνειαν στρατείας (‘at Corinth, when he arrived after the battle against the enemy and the expedition to Koroneia’). To arrive late for a battle and a military expedition is obviously meant to suggest cowardice, especially given that both of them are represented elsewhere as having been unusually dangerous. The battle at Corinth, better known as the battle of the Nemea River, took place probably around July 394; Athens and its allies were victorious, but with signiﬁcant losses (Lysias’ client Mantitheos in 16.15 boasts that his tribe bore the brunt of these). Soon after the battle (according to Mantitheos, who again boasts of his readiness to confront danger in this context, 16.16), the Athenian Generals sent some contingents to Boiotia to help block Agesilaos in his return from Asia, an attempt which led to the battle of Koroneia in August 394. There are accounts of both campaigns, albeit from a primarily Spartan viewpoint, in Xen. Hell. 4.2.9–26 (Nemea River), and in Hell. 4.3.10–23 and Ages. 2.5–16 (Koroneia). The natural assumption is that the expedition to Koroneia in the present passage is to be equated with that in which Mantitheos took part, but the numbers involved in it are unclear. The tone of Mantitheos’ narrative encourages the inference that he was part of a small group, but that could be self-serving rhetoric designed to emphasise his courage, and his repeated use of the word taxis (pl. as well as sing.) may imply that what was sent was more than one tribal contingent. Xenophon

45

Chris Carey suggests to me that ‘it looks as though what will sink you is irrelevance that is too long or too overt’.

3. Against Simon: Commentary §45

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(Hell. 4.2.17) states that the Athenian troops at the Nemea River numbered 6,000 hoplites plus 600 cavalry; he gives no ﬁgures for Koroneia, though his narrative contains no indication that they were represented only by a token force (Hell. 4.3.16). For the possibility that the rest of the army marched out to join Mantitheos and his colleagues but not until after Simon’s arrival, see next note but two: this would entail assuming that Lysias could get away with using strateia (expedition) to describe the activity of a vanguard in contrast with that of the main army, which would be tendentious but not necessarily impossible. ἐµάχετο (‘had a ﬁght’). Fighting is something that ought to be done collectively and against the enemies of Athens: Simon’s transgression is not simply that he ﬁghts against individual Athenians (not simply the speaker, but Lakhes who is in a position of authority), but that he does this after failing to turn up in time for the proper collective activity of ﬁghting at Corinth. τῷ ταξιάρχῳ Λάχητι (‘Lakhes the Taxiarkh’). For the identity of this Lakhes (PA 9012), see p. 276 above. Kirchner’s reconstructed stemma makes him the son of the Lakhes (PA 9017) who was the Peloponnesian War General and subject of Plato’s dialogue. The identiﬁcation of PA 9012 with PA 9017 is tentatively accepted by Albini (1955: 19), by Davies (1984: 151) and in LGPN Attica (Lakhes nos. 6 and 22), and the probability that they belong to the same family seems considerable, but I wonder whether a better age and career proﬁle would be obtained by inserting an extra generation between PA 9019 and PA 9017, and identifying PA 9017/PA 9012 with PA 9018. The task of the Taxiarkh was to command his tribe’s hoplite contingent under the authority of the Generals: if the natural reading of this anecdote, as suggested at p. 276 n. 6 above, is that Lakhes is Simon’s commanding ofﬁcer, then the latter must himself be a hoplite. πανστρατιᾷ τῶν πολιτῶν ἐξελθόντων (‘the citizens marched out in full force’). We are not told where they were going, but the natural inference is that they were setting out from Corinth, and the choice of verbs makes it unlikely that they were marching back to Athens (for which we would have expected e.g. epanerkhomai rather than exerkhomai). Perhaps the most attractive possibility is that this is the rest of the army marching to join the preliminary expedition of which Mantitheos in Lys. 16 had formed a part (though this does involve a fairly tendentious reading of strateia in the present passage, cf. last note but two), the function of which would presumably be that it allows Lysias the chance to present Simon as so much of a coward that he arrived late for both battles. Marching out ‘in full force’ (panstratiai) is presumably intended to suggest that Simon was left behind in disgrace, but Mantitheos’ account of his own expedition makes clear that the army had already seized some strong positions at Corinth, and I wonder whether panstratiai here could be interpreted to mean ‘the bulk of the army’ in contrast with a smaller preliminary force.46 If so, it would be tempting to see 46 The parallel would be Thuc. 2.5.1, where it is used of the rest of the Theban army in contrast with the 300 who have already entered Plataia: this can hardly be a full Theban muster, which would be unnecessarily large and difﬁcult to arrange without alerting the Plataians.

342

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Simon as fulﬁlling a continuing need for troops (and perhaps reinforcements) at Corinth. µόνος ̓Αθηναίων ὑπὸ τῶν στρατηγῶν ἐξεκηρύχθη (‘the only Athenian to be punished by ekke¯ruxis by the Generals’). For the topos ‘alone of the citizens/ Athenians’, see 10.1n: Athe¯naio¯n here may be emphatic, but need not necessarily imply that non-Athenians were so punished on this occasion; simply that it was a particular disgrace for an Athenian. On the disciplinary powers of Athenian Generals, see 9.5n. Harrison (1968–71.ii: 32) rightly notes that the main difﬁculty in interpreting the seriousness of ekke¯ruxis (evidently a form of dishonourable discharge, lit. ‘exclusion by herald’s proclamation’) is that although it is mentioned in e.g. the list of penalties available to the Generals in Ath.Pol. 61.2, the absence of other instances in which it is known to have been imposed means that we do not know precisely what it entailed. It is hard to believe that a system of military discipline could credibly operate on the premise that the offender was simply sent home without further penalty, and it is therefore tempting to suggest that he would therefore have been liable to graphe¯ astrateias for failure to undertake military service.47 Conviction for such an offence, however, would have entailed automatic atimia (loss of rights, which for this offence seems to have included the lifelong loss of the right to prosecute: Andok. 1.74), and the fact that Simon is currently prosecuting the speaker means that such a penalty cannot have been imposed on him. This point is noted by Carey (1989: 112), who infers from it that if ekke¯ruxis did lead to a graphe¯ astrateias, then ‘we can be reasonably sure that the allegation against Simon is untrue’. The alternative possibility is that ekke¯ruxis is mentioned here precisely because this was a case in which for some reason graphe¯ astrateias either was not brought or did not lead to a conviction, and therefore exceptionally led to no further penalty that can be cited against Simon.

§§46–48: Peroration §46. παρ’ ὑµῖν οὐ νόµιµόν ἐστιν ἔξω τοῦ πράγµατος λέγειν (‘given that it is unlawful to mention irrelevant material in your court’). See §45n and p. 282 above. οὗτοί εἰσιν οἱ βίᾳ εἰς τὴν ἡµετέραν οἰκίαν εἰσιόντες, οὗτοι οἱ διώκοντες, οὗτοι οἱ βίᾳ ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ συναρπάζοντες ἡµᾶς (‘these men are the ones who enter our house by force; they are the ones who pursue us; they are the ones who drag us forcibly out of our path’). The plural is an obvious attempt to blacken by conspiratorial association (as at e.g. 10.29; 12.81–86; 29.11–12), but there may also be a covert allusion here to the activities of the Thirty, who were notorious because of their 47 Van Wees (2004: 109) notes the humiliation involved in exclusion from military service, but adds that ‘shame does seem a comparatively mild penalty for such extreme insubordination’. It is perhaps worth noting that a law quoted by Aiskhines bans from speaking in public ‘those who have not served their campaigns’ (τα` στρατεα . . . µD στρατευµ νο, with the perfect tense perhaps implying completion of service, Aiskhin. 1.28).

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malicious prosecutions (an alternative meaning of dio¯keo¯: for prosecutions under the Thirty, cf. Andok. 1.101), and because of their practice of conducting arrests both on the public streets (an alternative meaning of hodoi: for arrests on the street, cf. Lys. 12.16) and in private houses (despite the insistence of Dem. 22.52, but cf. Lys. 12.8). §47. τὰ δίκαια ψηϕίζεσθε (‘deliver a just vote’). A common way of saying ‘vote for me’, since no litigant is ever going to admit that his case is other than just: the topos is found with some frequency throughout the corpus, but sometimes in combination (e.g. at 13.97 with hosia ‘pious’, at 23.16 with ale¯the¯ ‘true’, and perhaps most revealing at 19.64 with sumpheronta ‘beneﬁcial to yourselves’). µή <µε> περιίδητε ἐκ τῆς πατρίδος ἀδίκως ἐκπεσόντα (‘do not look on while I am expelled unjustly from my fatherland’). See §38n. πολλοὺς κινδύνους κεκινδύνευκα (‘faced many dangers’). Not in this context trials (as at §2), but presumably military service, as at 10.27 and 21.11. πολλὰς λῃτουργίας λελῃτούργηκα (‘performed many liturgies’). Eng. ‘liturgy’ is the conventional translation of leitourgia (lit. ‘public work’: the Greek word has none of the religious connotations associated with the English term). It refers to an important aspect of Athenian public ﬁnance, whereby instead of being paid for by the state treasury out of moneys raised e.g. through taxation, certain forms of expenditure were funded directly by rich Athenians and in some cases metics. Those who were wealthy enough were in principle obliged to take turns in doing this,48 and were in each case required to pay a ﬁxed minimum, but might choose to spend more lavishly so as to build up prestige which could be cashed in the form of kharis (lit. ‘gratitude’, e.g. from the jury at a trial).49 The most prestigious and potentially the most expensive liturgies were the trierarkhy (funding the crew and the running costs of a warship, and normally commanding it) and the khore¯gia (funding a choral production at a festival):50 Davies collects the attested 48 Though they could try to get out of it by ﬁnding somebody else who was better qualiﬁed—i.e. richer, and perhaps also (cf. below) not exempted e.g. by reason of recent service—and challenging him by means of the antidosis procedure (for which see §20n). For the phenomenon of liturgy avoidance, see Christ (1990), but cf. following footnote. 49 The motivation is often made quite explicit: see e.g. Lys. 21.17, 25; frag.106 On Behalf of Eryximakhos, lines 68–76. In contrast to the phenomenon of liturgy avoidance (previous footnote), Whitehead (1983: e.g. 59 with n. 15) emphasises the extent to which speakers present their own behaviour in terms of philotimia (lit. ‘love of honour’) and as something which entitles them to political leadership. Csapo & Slater (1995: 139–140) suggest an ambivalence in the response of the élite to the khore¯gia, in which ‘as far as possible it was a thing to be avoided, but once assigned, [this], more than any other liturgy, could become something of a potlatch, a display of public zeal and conspicuous consumption pushed to the very brink of ﬁnancial ruin’. 50 The trierarkhy was traditionally held for a year, though we do in this period hear of it being held jointly (see 6.47n). The size of the Athenian ﬂeet in the late 5th cent. is usually thought not to have exceeded 300 triremes, with the number of festival liturgies being estimated at c.100 (Davies 1967 argues for 97 each year rising to 118 in Panathenaic year, at least in the mid-350s). For the khore¯gia, see generally P. J. Wilson (2000); for the trierarkhy, see Gabrielsen (1994).

344

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ﬁgures for the cost of each type of liturgy, and also for the levels of wealth attributed to those attested as members of the liturgical class, which leads him to estimate that 3–4 talents will in practice have been the minimum liturgical census (1971: pp. xxi–xxii), though liability in each case seems to have been determined on the basis of visible wealth, as evidenced by self-declaration (Gabrielsen 1994: 53–60). Given this background, any mention of a liturgical record by a litigant identiﬁes him as one of a small group of wealthy men (the implications for the present speaker’s economic status are noted at p. 278 above), though the precise size of this liturgical élite is open to dispute. We do hear of later rules restricting the obligation of individuals to one festival liturgy every two years (Dem. 20.8) and to one trierarkhy every three (Isai. 7.38):51 some scholars have seen these rules as being introduced in the mid-fourth century, e.g. by Periander’s reforms to trierarkhic funding in 358/7, and have concluded that a group of 200–400 individuals will simultaneously have borne the burden of both types of liturgy before that date; others have seen Periander’s as a more limited reform which modiﬁed rather than introducing such rules, and have hypothesised a signiﬁcantly larger group of c.1,200, and in consequence broader distribution of wealth.52 Data assembled by Johnstone (1999: 93–100) suggest that defendants in private cases over the entire corpus of the Attic Orators cite their liturgies in 50 per cent of the speeches, with the ﬁgure for prosecutors being 23 per cent. I take the opportunity of footnoting for reference a list of those passages in the Lysianic corpus where speakers parade their own benefactions or seek to denigrate their opponents’ failure in this regard (coded T for trierarkhy, E for eisphora, K for khore¯gia, and U for unspeciﬁed liturgy).53 From this it may be noted that accounts 51 There is evidence for an individual serving much more frequently in our period—Lys. 21.1–5, including seven consecutive trierarkhies (21.2), and avowedly spending four times what was required by law (21.5)—but it is of course possible that the speaker had simply agreed to waive his exemptions. (Davies himself, 1971: no. D.7 at p. 593, ﬁnds hints in the speech that the family had had oligarchic sympathies and that the speaker’s ‘eccentric philotimia’ represents an attempt to buy himself back into public favour after 411.) 52 For the smaller ﬁgure, see Davies (1984: 15–37). For the larger, see Rhodes (1992 [1995]), noting that those liable to the eisphora (war tax, imposed at time of need, again on those with sufﬁcient property) may have been a somewhat larger group. 53 (a) Speaker’s own liturgies, including those of family where indicated: 3.47 (U: very non-speciﬁc), 7.31 (TEKU), 12.20 (KE: as a metic, the speaker is not liable to the trierarkhy), 13.63 (T, albeit of deceased and his fellows rather than of speaker), 18.7 (EU, family), 18.21 (T, self and family), 19.29 (KTE, detailed), 19.42–43 (KTE, etc., detailed), 19.57–59 (KTE, detailed), 20.23 (EU, family), 21 passim (everything, and in massive detail), 25.12 (TEU, detailed, inc. battles), frag. sp. L Eryximakhos (U implied at frag. 106 lines 67–70, T implied at frag. 107 lines 103–107). (b) Those of opponent: 6.46–7 (neither T nor proper military service), 12.38 (not T), 22.13 (not E), 26.3–5 (U, but used to buy corrupt inﬂuence), 27.11 (EK, but as sign of corrupt enrichment), 29.4 (T, but corruptly volunteered for), 30.26 (not E), 31.12 (not U), frag. 436 (not U). (c) Other relevant passages: 5.3n (allusiveness in case of metic defendant), 10.27n (military service but no liturgies), 12.38 (T, generalisation), 19.57 (hypothetical buying of corrupt inﬂuence), 24.9 (parody), 32.24 (T, syntrierarkhy improperly charged to account of orphans by opponent as their guardian), frag. 151 Theomnestos lines 329–332 (K, but as context of narrative episode rather than evidence for public service), frag. 104 Epigenes (T, but again apparently not as evidence for public service).

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of the speaker’s public services in Lysias’ speeches before the Areiopagos (here and at 7.31) are generally less detailed than those in speeches before the dikastic law courts, perhaps because the scale of self-gloriﬁcation found in some of the latter (e.g. Lys. 19.29, 42–43, 57–59; Lys. 21 passim; and even Lys. 25.12 with its mention of battles fought) would be felt to be inappropriate here. In the present case there may also be particular reasons for brevity: leaving aside the question of relevance, on which the speaker may have felt that he has been sailing close to the wind, there is also the fact that he has apparently tried and failed to evade his most recent liturgical commitment (see §20n), which may make him chary of claiming too much credit for public-spiritedness. οὐδὲ τῶν ἐµῶν προγόνων οὐδείς (‘nor have any of my ancestors’). The implication is that he is the descendant of a political family, but we cannot be more speciﬁc than this. §48. δικαίως αν . . . ἐλεηθείην (‘as a matter of justice I should receive pity’). Lit. ‘justly’. Such pleading in Athenian forensic oratory is analysed in detail by Konstan (2001: 36–43), who emphasises that pity in Greek thought is something that is thought to be aroused by the spectacle of undeserved misfortune: whereas we would tend to see pity as a potential distraction from the claims of justice, an Athenian defendant would naturally regard pity and justice as complementary rather than incompatible. ὑϕ’ ὑµῶν καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν αλλων (‘both from you and from other people’). The signiﬁcance of other people here is unclear.

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Lysias 4 Concerning a Premeditated Wounding: Prosecutor and Client Unknown Introduction I. LEGAL AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL PARALLELS WITH LYS. 3 Like the previous speech, Lys. 4 concerns a case of trauma ek pronoias.1 Given that both are defence-speeches, there are understandably close parallels in some of the legal issues raised. The penalties envisaged in both cases are broadly similar, at least if we interpret ‘fatherland and life’ as implying exile (see §18n); and both speakers directly challenge the opponent’s assertion that their behaviour constitutes pronoia (3.28–34; 3.41–43; 4.6–7), to which they both assimilate phrases involving the verb epibouleuo¯ (‘to plot’, 3.29; 4.10). Other parallels of legal procedure, on the other hand, are less close but perhaps more noteworthy. Whereas in the previous speech, for instance, the use of torture to extract evidence as if from a slave is merely hypothesised (see 3.33n), this time we ﬁnd a formal challenge to the opponent to permit such torture, combined with a detailed rebuttal of the latter’s response (§§10–17); whereas the speech against Simon merely alludes in passing to the speaker’s having been involved in an antidosis (exchange of properties in the context of a challenge to undertake a liturgy, 3.20n), in the present speech it is the cancellation of an incomplete exchange between speaker and opponent which forms a central indicator of the state of their relationship (§§1–2); and the special dio¯mosia oath, which at Lys. 3.1 and 3.4 was simply mentioned in passing as an index of the prosecutor’s readiness to belittle such matters, here serves as the explanation of the speaker’s inability to produce witnesses (see §4n). As will be seen from the Commentary, adversarial challenges to torture slaves are fairly common in the Orators, but for an antidosis 1 For the procedure, and the terms trauma (broadly ‘wounding’) and pronoia (broadly ‘intent’), see pp. 281–284 above. Such cases were heard by the Areiopagos (hence the address o¯ boule¯ at §1, etc.). Unlike Lys. 3 (for which see p. 284 n. 39 above), there is no internal evidence to indicate whether this speech is a dike¯ or a graphe¯. For the grouping of speeches on the basis of legal procedure in the ﬁrst part of the corpus, see pp. 21–22 with n. 83 above.

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to move beyond the stage of challenge into that even of partial exchange is highly unusual, and very few of the extant speeches produce any explanation for the absence of witnesses. As well as the legal parallels, there are parallels also in the circumstances of the two speeches. Both deal with violence between Athenian citizens, though the antidosis in the present case indicates that both litigants are members of the liturgical class (like the speaker of Lys. 3, whereas the extent of Simon’s wealth was contested). In both cases the dispute is over possession of a sex-object apparently of lower status, though in the previous speech this was a named male Plataian while here it is an unnamed female slave or ex-slave (there is evidently a dispute between the speaker and his opponent as to whether she has been freed, §14). Both speeches seek to rebut the allegation that violence was offered outside or inside the opponent’s home, which here is alleged against the speaker alone (§§5–7), whereas Simon’s allegation against Lysias’ client at 3.28–33 is forestalled by a matching counter-allegation against Simon himself (3.6–8). In both cases the allegation against the speaker involves the use of pottery as an impromptu weapon, though at §6 this is simply something with which the opponent claims to have been struck, whereas at 3.28 it is described as something that the speaker is alleged to have brought with him.

II. RECONSTRUCTING THE DISPUTE Perhaps the most striking difference between Lys. 4 and its predecessor is the absence of personal detail. This can be seen most obviously by comparing the use of names in the two speeches. Whereas at the start of Lys. 3 we were given the name both of the opponent Simon and of the disputed sex-object Theodotos, the present speech is unusual though not unique in carrying a manuscript title which does not include the name of either litigant;2 and are we not told the name of the slave-woman over whom they are ﬁghting.3 Nor do any other participants appear in the course of the quarrel: ironically, the only two individuals to be named are Philinos and Diokles, who are marked out precisely by their inability to testify (§4), and it is nowhere made clear what part they might have played in the narrative in order for them to have acquired the knowledge which they are unable

2 Speech-titles more often contain the name of the opponent than that of the speaker, but four other speeches which are generally accepted as the work of Lysias bear titles in which neither speaker nor opponent is identiﬁed either by name or as part of a group (Lys. 7, Lys. 17, Lys. 21, and Lys. 25). Both the speaker of Lys. 4 and his opponent appear in the anonymous section of Davies’ catalogue (1971: 594, nos. D.13 and D.14); Dobree’s argument against identifying the opponent’s name as Poseidippos is noted at p. 350 n. 9 below. 3 This is at ﬁrst sight surprising, given that there seems to have been no inhibition against naming a woman of this status in a law court (unlike a respectable citizen woman, for which see Schaps 1977), but it may reﬂect a strategy of representing her more as object than as person.

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to share with us. Their names are too common to identify, and none of the events in the speech can be externally dated. Nevertheless, the sequence of events can be reconstructed in broad outline from the arguments put forward. The speaker and his opponent, both of them clearly members of the liturgical class (see p. 348 above), have had a ﬁght at the latter’s house (§§5–7). The reason why he went there is contested (§7, §11), but presumably has to do with disputed possession of the female slave who is the object of their dispute: the speaker claims that she is jointly owned (whether by agreement at §1, or arising out of joint purchase as at e.g. §10), but the prosecutor has been asserting the rights of sole owner, for instance by claiming unilaterally to have manumitted her.4 The opponent has evidently argued that the two are long-standing enemies, and this would at ﬁrst sight appear to be conﬁrmed by the antidosis-challenge,5 but the speaker responds by insisting that the mutual agreement to cancel the exchange indicates reconciliation (§§1–2),6 and adds as a further proof of reconciliation an anecdote about judging at the Dionysia (§§3–4, discussed in more detail at pp. 351–353 below). He further claims that the opponent has been exaggerating the scale of his injuries (§9), and develops an extended argument that the latter’s refusal of the challenge to torture the slave-girl for evidence indicates that he has something to hide (§§10–17).

III. EXPLAINING THE SHAPE OF THE SPEECH Part of the reason for the absence of personal detail is that Lys. 4 contains only some of the elements that we would expect from a forensic speech. Ancient rhetorical theorists believed that a speech should be made up of proem, narrative, proof, and peroration. It is true that Lysias does not always follow this pattern,7 which may indeed not have been used for theoretical analysis until after his time. But it is nevertheless odd to ﬁnd a speech that consists simply of proof (§§1–17) and peroration (§§18–20), with neither proem nor narrative, especially given that the proofs begin so abruptly. One possible explanation is that what we have is 4 The speaker claims that this is not only invalid without his consent as joint-owner, but is also a trick to circumvent his challenge that she should be tortured for evidence (§§12–14). The assumptions underlying this argument about trickery have wide-ranging implications for the law on evidence, for which see §12n. 5 Normally a sign of hostility (P. J. Wilson 2000: 100–101). It is not wholly clear which of them has initiated the challenge against the other (see §2n). 6 It is notable that enmity between individuals is deemed to be a state of affairs which is expected to last until (but only until) it is formally brought to an end. There is no sense that the jury will assume (or the opponent will claim) that the speaker might have retained hostile feelings despite having publicly gone through the forms of reconciliation. Also notable is the way in which enmity is a state which gives meaning to actions: as Rhodes (1998: 155) observes, the speaker seems never to deny the fact of the ﬁght—cf. §8n—but rather to challenge its signiﬁcance, which implies that it is the claim of enmity that enables the opponent to present it as a serious matter. 7 It is for instance very difﬁcult to ﬁnd a formal narrative in Lys. 10 (cf. 10.4–5n).

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all that was commissioned, and that the client himself took responsibility for the earlier parts of the speech. But in other speeches where this is thought to have happened, there is normally an opening sentence which gives the reading audience some indication that the narrative is assumed to have been delivered,8 and nothing of the sort is found here. So on balance I am inclined to think it more likely that the speech has suffered mutilation at some stage before its inclusion in the Palatinus manuscript, which might indeed help account for the absence of a named title.9 Alternative explanations which have been suggested by scholars,10 but which I regard as less probable, are either that what we have is only the deuterologia (i.e. the second of the two speeches which we know that each litigant in homicide cases was required to deliver, a rule that may have applied in trauma ek pronoias cases also);11 or alternatively that this is not a real law-court speech, but instead a rhetorical exercise based on Lys. 3, possibly by a much later writer e.g. from the period of the Second Sophistic.12 The problem with the ﬁrst of these hypotheses is that the various arguments covered in the proofs—rebuttal of opponent’s denial of reconciliation (§§1–4), rebuttal of premeditation (§§5–7), attack on 8 This varies from the generic (‘On the subject of the accusations, the situation has already been made clear to you’, Lys. 21.1) to the speciﬁc (‘As to the fact that Lokhites struck me and was the aggressor, all those who were present have testiﬁed to you’, Isok. 20.1). The present speech, by contrast, opens with the question of motive, but it is left to the reader to infer that this is the function of the speaker’s rebuttal of the opponent’s claim that there had been no prior reconciliation between them. For the needs of the reading public, cf. p. 543 below. 9 None of the ancient testimonia provide an alternative title. (Dobree [1874: 194] rightly noted that Harpokration’s citation of apolakhein as coming from frag. sp. CXXII Against [kata] Poseidippou cannot refer to §4 apelakhe, since the preposition kata is used in the titles only of prosecutionspeeches while Lys. 4 is a defence.) The only testimonium that can be ﬁrmly identiﬁed is a seven-word quotation from §8 found in two late-mediaeval lexica, one of which attributes it to ‘Lysias Peri Traumatos’ (correction of MS ‘tragmatos’ by Reitzenstein [1892–93: 5], the ﬁrst editor); the other entry, in Lexicon Vindobonense s.v. oxukheir, identiﬁes the quotation as the work of Lysias but without saying which speech. For a possible testimonium from Hesykhios, albeit without title or author’s name, see §11n. 10 I do not propose to spend time here on the argument of Stutzer (1881: 100–113) that Lys. 4 is an epitome of a lost speech, which was his explanation of no fewer than ﬁve speeches in the corpus: for a general critique, see p. 541 with n. 1 below. 11 Thus e.g. Marzi (1956: 17) and Wallace (1989: 124). In support of this hypothesis, the latter cites §10 (‘he disagrees with us on every point’), but this could easily relate to statements made at preliminary hearings or in the prosecutor’s ﬁrst speech, while the mention of ‘pieces of evidence and witness testimonies’ (cf. §12n) could as easily refer to material missing from the putatively lost beginning of the present speech. 12 Originally suggested by Taylor (1739: 89 n. 1). I have not seen Falk (1843), who is reported by Blass (1887 [1868]: 586) and by Darkow (1917: 25–26) as offering more detailed arguments in favour of Taylor’s position. In particular, he seems to have taken it as axiomatic that a deuterologia could not be composed by a logographer because one could not predict in advance what the opponent would say. Although there are no clearly attested counter-examples (the Tetralogies are not written for real trials), the readiness of logographic defendants to tell us in some detail what their opponents have said (as at 1.37, 3.27–28) makes this a dangerous premise (cf. more broadly 10.6n on anticipation of arguments). And even if a deuterologia is ruled out, there are (as we have seen) other alternatives besides a rhetorical exercise.

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opponent’s character (§§8–9), and challenge to torture (§§10–17)—are so wideranging that it is difﬁcult to see what else he would have said in the ﬁrst speech. Nor is there any suggestion, of the sort that we ﬁnd in the albeit ﬁctitious Tetralogies of Antiphon, that he is offering a further development of arguments which have been raised in the ﬁrst round of the debate. The rhetorical exercise hypothesis, by contrast, is important precisely because were this to be a post-Classical work, it would cease to be reliable evidence for the fourth century. But it is difﬁcult to see why the author of a rhetorical exercise (at whatever date) would choose to compose only the proofs and the peroration, omitting the proem and narrative. And although we have noted (at pp. 347–349 above) many similarities between Lys. 3 and Lys. 4, we also saw differences in the treatment of certain legal topics, such as torture, antidosis, and dio¯mosia, while the factual parallels are not to my mind overwhelming, partly because they are not all particularly close (different gender and different status of sex-object, slightly different location of ﬁght inside rather than outside the house), but more signiﬁcantly because the types of circumstances envisaged seem to have been not uncommon among the Athenian élite. The speaker himself regards the pursuit of boys as much as of ﬂute-girls as normal evening behaviour after drinking (§7), and the various attempts to gate-crash the private houses of one’s enemies may be a function of the ko¯mos.13 The violent use of pottery might at ﬁrst sight seem a more striking parallel, but as I have remarked elsewhere (Todd 2000a: 53), it is the natural informal weapon in a world where glass was rare, and is precisely the type of instrument that would raise problematic questions about prior intent.

IV. JUDGING AND CHALLENGING One of the most cryptic, but also one of the most interesting pieces of information contained in this speech is the anecdote about judging at the Dionysia festival, for which—assuming this is a genuine fourth-century law-court speech—it provides unique evidence.14 Some of what is going on here can be inferred straightforwardly. The speaker claims that his opponent had been chosen as one of the judges for the festival, and that in this capacity he had attempted abortively to cast his vote for the speaker’s tribe.15 From this it is clear that he

13 Freeman (1963 [1946]: 112) cites as a parallel Alkibiades’ drunken and uninvited entry in Plato, Symposion, 215c, on which see Dover (1980: 160), who glosses the ko¯mos as ‘a mobile drinking party, sometimes celebrating a success, sometimes serenading and besieging a boy or hetaira’. 14 The modern bibliography on the judging of dramatic festivals is extensive: see e.g. PickardCambridge (1968: 95–99), Pope (1986), Jedrkiewicz (1996), P. J. Wilson (2000: 98–102), Marshall & Van Willigenburg (2004). Aspects of the debate that are relevant to §§3–4 are discussed in the Commentary. 15 The statement that his voting-ballot was ‘excluded by lot’ has important implications for the voting-process, the details of which however remain obscure (see §3n).

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must have been judging the dithyrambic choruses, since this was the only competition at the Dionysia that was organised on a tribal basis, and in which a judge could therefore be said to be voting for a particular tribe.16 (Had the competition been for tragedy or for comedy, he would presumably have spoken of voting either for the poet or for the Khore¯gos who had funded the production.) Given the tribal organisation of the dithyrambic competition,17 it is generally assumed that the speaker’s claim to have nominated his opponent as judge must imply that they are members of the same tribe.18 This has implications both for their relationship—it suggests that they are both members not only of the liturgical élite, but of a tribal subgroup within that élite which is likely to have brought them into much closer and potentially more competitive dealings19—and also for the nature of their alleged bargain: if the speaker and his opponent are both members of the same tribe, then the latter’s readiness to vote for the tribe of the former would at ﬁrst sight seem to indicate no more than local patriotism, and it is hard to see how Lysias could have been expected the court to regard this as evidence of reconciliation. An attractive if speculative solution to this conundrum has been proposed by P. J. Wilson (2000: 100–101), who starts from the suggestion of PickardCambridge (1968: 96–97, cf. §4n) that an obvious context for the tribe’s judge to have been proposed by the speaker would be if the latter was himself the tribe’s Khore¯gos. This would restore signiﬁcance to the opponent’s alleged votingintentions, because it would show that he was not sufﬁciently hostile to the speaker (who as Khore¯gos would be the main beneﬁciary of his tribe’s victory) to want to vote against him. Wilson however develops this hypothesis by suggesting that the khore¯gia in question was itself the one which had formed the subject of the incomplete antidosis, which is plausible if incapable of proof. If correct, however, this might suggest the inference that the antidosis had been initiated by the opponent rather than (as Wilson himself assumes at 2000: 100) by the speaker, since failure to carry through the antidosis would normally leave the responsi-

16 Tragedy and comedy were organised as non-tribal competitions, even after the tribes took over the nomination of the comic Khore¯goi from the Arkhon (Rhodes 1981: 624). For the numbers of Khore¯goi at the Dionysia—three for tragedy, ﬁve for comedy, and ten each (one per tribe) for men’s and for boys’ dithyrambs—see Davies (1967: 33–34). 17 The evidence for the tribal selection of festival judges is discussed at §4n. 18 Marshall & Van Willigenburg (2004: 104) suggest the possibility that as Khore¯gos he may have been entitled to nominate somebody from another tribe, noting the use of the ﬁrst person singular to describe the opponent’s abortive vote for ‘my’ tribe; I am not convinced that this is signiﬁcant usage, however, given that the context of §3 is the opponent’s relationship with ‘me’ (sing.), with the shift to the repeated use of ﬁrst person plural to describe his nomination by ‘us’ (§4) being marked by the introduction of the putative witnesses Philinos and Diokles. 19 I have suggested elsewhere (Todd 1998: 164–165) that we should think of them not simply as two of the three hundred richest Athenians, but as two of the thirty richest tribe-members. (This was based on Davies’ calculations of the size of the liturgical class, and would need to be revised upwards if we accept the higher ﬁgure of c.1,200 proposed by Rhodes: details at 3.47n. )

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bility to perform the liturgy in the hands of the person challenged, rather than in those of the challenger to whom the liturgy had originally been allocated.20 20 For the options available in the antidosis procedure, see 3.20n. (The case can hardly have been resolved in court, since it would be too risky to present such an outcome as evidence for ‘reconciliation’.) For the difﬁculty of determining who in the present speech had challenged whom, see further §2n.

4 Concerning a Premeditated Wounding: Prosecutor and Client Unknown [1] The dispute about whether our reconciliation took place is a remarkable one, members of the council. And also that whereas in the matter of the yoke of oxen, the slaves, and all the agricultural items which he had received under the terms of the antidosis, he would not be able to deny that he gave them back, nevertheless even though there was clearly an agreement about everything, he denies what relates to the slave-girl, that we agreed to make use of her as shared property. [2] Clearly it is because of her that he made the antidosis. As to why he gave back what he had received, he will not be able to state any other reason—assuming he wishes to tell the truth—other than because our friends had brought us to agree on all these matters. [3] I could wish that he had not been excluded by lot from serving as a judge at the Dionysia, so that it would be clear to you that he was reconciled to me, and gave as his verdict that my phyle¯ was the winner. As it was, he wrote this on his writing-tablet, but was excluded by lot. [4] Philinos and Diokles know that I am speaking the truth about this, but it is not possible for them to testify, because they have not sworn the dio¯mosia concerning the charge on which I am the defendant. In that case you would have known for certain that we were the people who put his name forward as judge, and that it was because of us that he took his seat. [5] But let us assume, if he wishes, that he was my enemy. I grant him that, because it makes no difference. So I went out myself to kill him, or so

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he claims, and entered his house by force. Why then did I not kill him off, given that I had him physically under my control, and had gained such a victory that I actually took the slave-girl? Let him give his explanation in front of you—but he has nothing to say. [6] Moreover, each one of you is aware that he would have died more quickly if struck by a knife than if punched by a ﬁst. But clearly not even he himself accuses us of going armed with anything of the sort. Instead, he says he was struck with pottery. But it is already clear from what he has said that there was no pronoia: [7] for if there had been, we would not have gone like that, because it was unclear whether at his house we would ﬁnd pottery or anything with which to kill him. Instead, we would have taken it from home before going. In fact we admit that we were going after boys and ﬂute-girls, and that we had been drinking. So how can this be pronoia? I certainly do not think it can. [8] This man is love-sick in a different way from other people. He has two passions: not to give back the money, but to have the slave-girl. He has been inﬂamed by the slave-girl, and is too quick with his ﬁsts and prone to drunken violence, and it is necessary to defend oneself. As for her, at one moment she says she values me highly, and at another moment him, because she wishes to be loved by both. [9] I have kept a good temper right from the beginning, and I still do so now. He on the other hand has reached such a level of surliness that he is not ashamed to describe a black eye as a ‘wound’, to be carried around on a litter, and to pretend to be in a terrible

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condition—all for the sake of a prostitute slave-girl, and he could have undisputed control of her if he simply paid back the money. [10] He claims to have been plotted against in terrible ways, and he disagrees with us on every point, but although it would be possible for him to obtain the proof from the slave-girl under torture, he refused to do so. In the ﬁrst place, she would have made clear whether she was owned jointly by us or privately by this man, whether I had contributed half the money or this man had given it all, and whether we had been reconciled or were still enemies; [11] also whether we had gone because we had been sent for, or without anybody inviting us, and whether this man had begun the ﬁght or I had struck him ﬁrst. Of these points individually, and of others, there was nothing which it would not have made easily clear both to these men and to everybody else. [12] It has been demonstrated to you on the basis of many pieces of evidence and witness-testimonies, members of the council, that there was no pronoia and that I did not commit an offence against this man. Whatever inference there would have been in favour of this man, that he was appearing to speak the truth, if I had refused the challenge to torture, I claim that there should be just as much an inference in my favour, that I am not lying, given that this man refused to obtain the proof from the slave-girl; and that this man’s statement that she is free should not have so much weight. I too am equally concerned in her freedom, because I contributed an equal amount of money. [13] However, he is lying, rather than telling the truth. It would be extraordinary if for the purpose of ransoming my body from the enemy, it would be legitimate for me to make whatever use of her I wished, but when I am risking my fatherland, it is not even

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to be permissible for me to ﬁnd out the truth from her about the matters on which I have been brought to trial. It would be far more just for her to be tortured on the basis of this charge than for her to be sold for the purpose of ransoming me from the enemy—to the extent that from those men, assuming they are willing to release you, it is possible for somebody who is well off to have himself repatriated on the basis of other capital assets as well, whereas this cannot be done with regards to one’s personal enemies, because they are not keen to receive money, but make it their task to drive you out of your fatherland. [14] So you ought not to accept his argument that for this reason the slave-girl should not be tortured, because he claims she is free. Instead, you ought rather to convict him of sykophancy, on the grounds that he believes that he will easily deceive you while leaving aside so conclusive a test. [15] You must not regard as more trustworthy than ours his challenge about the points on which he claims that his own slaves should be tortured. The things which they knew, in other words that we went to his house, are things which we too acknowledge. But she would know better than they do whether we were sent for or not, and whether I struck or received the ﬁrst blow. [16] Moreover, if we had tortured this man’s slaves, who are this man’s personal property, they would have acted to please him in an unthinking manner, and would have lied untruthfully against me. The woman, however, was jointly owned, in that both parties had contributed money alike. She had the greatest knowledge: it was because of her that everything that happened was done by us. [17] It will not escape anybody’s notice

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that I had an unequal chance on the basis of her being tortured, but I was willing to run that risk: for it is clear that she placed far higher value on this man than on myself, and that she had joined him in offending against me but had never joined me in wronging him. Nevertheless, I wanted to use this as my defence, whereas this man did not trust her. [18] Given that my danger is so great, members of the council, you should not easily accept this man’s statements, but bear in mind instead that the contest is about my fatherland and my life, and take these challenges into account. Do not seek proofs that are still stronger than these: I would not be able to produce any others apart from these that I did not premeditate anything against this man. [19] I am upset, members of the council, at being placed in danger over very important matters on account of a girl who is a prostitute and a slave: what damage have I ever done to the polis, or to this man himself, or what offence have I committed against any of the citizens? Nothing of the sort has ever been done by me, but I am in danger—in respect of what is the most unreasonable of all things—of bringing a far greater disaster on myself on account of these people. [20] I beg and beseech you, by your children, by your wives, and by the gods who control this place, have pity on me. Do not look on while I fall into the power of this man, and do not involve me in such an unbearable disaster. I do not deserve to be exiled from my , nor does this man deserve to exact so great a penalty from me for things in which he claims to be wronged but was not in fact wronged.

Lysias 4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary Title: The manuscript reading here is περ τρα$µατο κ προνοα, περ ο3 κα

πρ 9ν (lit. ‘concerning a premeditated wounding, concerning whom and against whom’), which is clearly unsatisfactory because it leaves incomplete sense. Taylor’s addition of <α%δηλον> (lit., ‘it being unknown’, i.e. who the speech was for and against) is generally accepted as the least intrusive way of rescuing the text. On trauma ek pronoias, see pp. 281–284 above.

§§1–17: Proof This section ﬁlls the bulk of the surviving speech (for the absence of proem and narrative, see pp. 349–351 above, which attempts to reconstruct the sequence of events that lie behind the case), and consists of a loosely structured series of attacks on the opponent’s arguments: his claim that the alleged reconciliation had not happened (§§1–4), his version of the ﬁght (§§5–7), his character (§§8–9), and his refusal to accept the challenge to torture (initially stated at §§10–11, and developed in more detail at §§12–17).

Rebuttal of opponent’s denial of reconciliation (§§1–4) §1. ὦ βουλή (‘members of the council’). The council of the Areiopagos, for which see p. 281 above. τὸ διαµάχεσθαι (‘the dispute’). Cognate with makhe¯ (‘battle’, for which see 3.14n): there may be a hint of pugnacity, at least on the part of the speaker’s opponent. ὡς οὐκ ἐγένοντο ἡµῖν διαλλαγαί (‘whether our reconciliation took place [lit. “that it did not”]’). The noun diallagai (usually plural, though sing. at Dem. 59.47) can be used of an act of state or other public agreement (a proposed peace treaty at Andok. 3.36, the Amnesty of 403/2 at e.g. Lys. 12.53, 13.80, and Isok. 18.17), but it is also used in private contexts to describe reconciliation between individuals. In such contexts it denotes a formal agreement to avoid or discontinue hostile legal action, usually brokered by a third party or parties, often serving as private arbitrator (as at Dem. 59.47). The value of a third party in conducting such negotiations is seen in the active use of the cognate verb diallatto¯ (‘to bring about reconciliation’, as at Dem. 59.70–71), but the consensual nature of his rôle is clear from Isai. 5.32, the wording of which implies that diallatto¯ is appropriate only in cases where the arbitrators’ proposed settlement is accepted by both parties, and would not be used if they had to impose a settlement. A more instructive

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parallel for the present case, however, is found at Ant. 6.38–39, where the speaker’s opponents following the collapse of their initial prosecution are said to have approached him and his friends (philoi, as at §2 of this speech) asking for reconciliation. This takes place in a sanctuary in front of witnesses: diallatto¯ (active) is used to describe the activity of the latter, and diallattomai (passive) of the parties being reconciled. For the etymology, see next note but three. ὅσα ἐξ ἀγροῦ (‘all the agricultural items’), lit. ‘all the things from the countryside’, i.e. from whatever agricultural property the speaker may have owned. For the failure to mention such agricultural property itself, see following note. κατὰ τὴν ἀντίδοσιν (‘under the terms of the antidosis’). For the antidosis procedure, see 3.20n; some distinctive features of its application in the present case are noted at pp. 347–348 above (rarity even of partial exchange, economic implications for status of litigants), at p. 349 above (implications of challenge and alleged reconciliation for their relationship), and at pp. 351–353 above (possible relationship to khore¯gia at §§3–4, and implications for question of who had challenged whom). The absence of land itself from the range of items said to have been included in the exchange here is surprising,1 particularly given the mention of farm animals and presumably stored crops (or possibly tools): Dem. 42.5 suggests that the obvious ﬁrst action in this procedure was to inspect the other party’s estate precisely so as to ensure that such items were not removed. Lysias may be simply ignoring land here because his interest is in one speciﬁc movable item, or alternatively the parties here may have agreed to swap speciﬁc items ﬁrst as a guarantee of good faith.2 ἔλαβε . . . ἀπέδωκε (‘which he had received . . . that he gave them back’: the Greek is rather less stilted than my translation, which has attempted for exegetical purposes to retain the order of the clauses). For the textual problems, see Carey’s OCT. The manuscript here has -λαβον . . . α2π δωκε (‘which I had received, etc.’); this is accepted by Thalheim, but rejected by the majority of editors, on the grounds that whoever did the receiving ought also to be doing the returning. Reiske proposed emending the α2π δωκε to the ﬁrst person α2π δωκα, but Scaliger’s emendation of the -λαβον to -λαβε is generally and in my view rightly accepted, because it is in Lysias’ interests to show that the opponent rather than simply the speaker was committed to the reconciliation. περὶ πάντων διαλελυµένον (‘even though there was clearly an agreement about everything’: accusative absolute with concessive force). Dialuo¯ (verb) and dialuseis (noun), at least in this sense,3 are effectively synonyms for diallatto¯/diallagai (see 1 Moveables are included in the antidosis at Dem. 42.6–7 and 42.24 (Gabrielsen 1987: 18 n. 29), but not to the exclusion of land. 2 The only alternative here would be to read -λαβε and α2π δωκε as receiving and giving up the right to possession, but that would seem unacceptably strained both linguistically and in context. On Dem. 42.5, see Gabrielsen (1987: 17). 3 Other senses of dialuo¯ in Lysias may be found at e.g. 18.15 (where it denotes the breaking of an agreement), and at frag. 151 line 333 Against Theomnestos (payment of money owed). Dialuseis, like diallagai, is usually plural, but for the sing. see e.g. Dem. 42.11.

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last note but three), though the etymology of the two sets of terms is rather different: whereas the latter denotes ‘exchange’ (presumably of enmity for friendship, cf. LSJ s.v. diallatto¯ III), the former derives from ‘dissolution’ (presumably of hostilities, cf. LSJ. s.v. dialuo¯ I.4.b); it is perhaps surprising that neither term formally denotes ‘bringing together’. Dialuseis, like diallagai, can be used both in public and in private contexts: it is the term used at Ath.Pol. 39.1, to introduce the text of the Amnesty agreement of 403, but of private acts of reconciliation e.g. at Dem. 21.119 (once again, envisaged as something to be brought about by a third party) and at Isai. 2.38 (conﬁrmed by mutual oaths). Dialuo¯, like diallatto¯, is used in the active of the person negotiating reconciliation (e.g. Dem. 30.8), and in the middle of the parties being reconciled (e.g. Dem. 21.39). τὰ περὶ τῆς ἀνθρώπου (‘what relates to the slave-girl’), i.e. the clauses of the agreement putatively dealing with her. The word anthro¯pos, as noted at 1.15n, has negative connotations when used to describe a woman: hence my use of the translation ‘slave-girl’ in this speech, where it is used repeatedly (§5, §8 twice, §9, §10, §12, §14, §19), with the derogatory overtones being made explicit in two passages by the addition of other pejorative terms (π*ρνη α2νθρπου at §9n and π*ρνην κα δο$λην α2νθρ=που at §19). µὴ κοινῇ ἡµᾶς χρῆσθαι (‘to make use of her as shared property’). For the same verb (used also at §13) in a similar context with similar connotations of sexual exploitation, see Dem. 24.197 (with Ste Croix 2004: 66), and Dem. 59.67. Despite the gospel injunction, joint ownership of slaves is not unknown: Nikarete, the original mistress of Neaira, is said to have sold her jointly to Timanoridas and Eukrates for sexual purposes (Dem. 59.29). Admittedly this was at Corinth, but more than forty out of approximately 300 manumissions recorded on the Athenian phialai exeleutherikai inscriptions report multiple owners. Thirteen of these include eranistai, who have evidently clubbed together to purchase the manumission (which may therefore disguise individual ownership), but the rest are likely to reﬂect genuine cases of joint ownership. Several of the joint owners are brothers,4 who may therefore have acquired the slave by inheritance, but the majority of owners show no sign of family relationship, and a proportion of these will presumably have acquired by joint purchase, which is what the speaker claims has happened in the present case (§§8–9, §10, §12, and §16, though see next-but-one note). §2. ἀντίδοσιν . . . ποιησάµενος (‘made the antidosis’). This is our only textual evidence for the question of who was challenging whom, which is important because of its implication for the levels of hostility between the two litigants. It is however difﬁcult to interpret, partly because of the ambiguity of the term antidosis, but also because of the lack of a precise linguistic parallel for the phrase used here. To take these points in order, the term antidosis could refer to the 4 Including Misgolas, known from Aiskhin. 1.41–53, who together with his brother Naukles frees two slaves at Great Inscription (D. M. Lewis 1959) B.335–342.

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challenge to exchange properties, but could also denote the provisional agreement to proceed with the exchange: the ﬁrst of these would be ‘made’ by the challenger, but the second by the person being challenged. The signiﬁcance of the verb poieo¯ in the context of antidosis challenges is discussed by Gabrielsen (1987: 13 with n. 14), who notes however that the use of the middle here is rare, and that use of the verb to describe the activity of private individuals is unparalleled, since elsewhere it is applied consistently to the acts of public authorities.5 There is no scholarly consensus on the issue, and I am not sure that a deﬁnitive answer is possible.6 δι’ ἐκείνην (‘because of her’). Hamaker (1843: 6) suggested deleting the preposition and reading κενην with α2ντδοσιν (‘made that antidosis’), arguing that if, as the speaker maintains, both parties had contributed to her purchase price evidently prior to the antidosis (refs. in last note but one), the opponent could not have been motivated in initiating the challenge (see previous note) by the hope of gaining greater control of her. Given her central rôle as object of the dispute, however, removing the preposition would seem to weaken the force of what is being said here, and I am inclined to accept the received text either as a piece of deliberately manipulative illogicality, or possibly with Francken’s gloss (1865: 39– 40), that the satisfactory resolution of the antidosis would allow uninterrupted access for both parties. ϕίλοι . . . συνήλλαξαν (‘friends had brought us to agree’). The use of friends in private arbitration is discussed by Konstan (1997: 85–87). For the rôle of third parties in negotiating reconciliation, see §1n; for their possible identity here, see §4n. §3. κριτὴν ∆ιονυσίοις (‘a judge at the Dionysia’). On the Great Dionysia as dramatic and dithyrambic festival, see Pickard-Cambridge (1968: 57–125) and Csapo & Slater (1995: 103–121); its rôle as a celebration of Athenian society is discussed by Goldhill (1990), and its religious aspect by Parker (2005: 136–152). For the process of selecting judges for the various dramatic and choral performances, see §4n; some implications of the anecdote at §§3–4 are explored at pp. 351–353 above. ἵν’ ὑµῖν ϕανερὸς ἐγένετο ἐµοὶ διηλλαγµένος (‘so that it would be clear to you that he was reconciled to me’). For the reconciliation vocabulary here, see §1n. 5

He reports three examples in the active to denote the magistrate regulating the procedure (Ath.Pol. 56.3, 61.1, 42.5), but only one other in the middle: this is Dem. 4.36, where Trierarkhs are being discussed, but he is surely right to conclude that the subject there seems to be Athenian de¯mos which has established the procedure. 6 Scholars have tended simply to state a position without much in the way of supporting argument: either that the challenger was the speaker (thus e.g. Jebb 1893 [1876].i: 274–275, Lamb 1930: 94, and P. J. Wilson 2000: 100), or that the challenge came from the opponent (e.g. Blass 1887 [1868]: 583, Fernández-Galiano 1953: 91 n. iii, and Gabrielsen 1987: 21). For the suggestion that Wilson’s reconstruction of the judging process would ﬁt better if the opponent had issued the challenge, see p. 352 above.

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κρίνας τὴν ἐµὴν ϕυλὴν νικᾶν (‘gave as his verdict that my phyle¯ was the winner’). Csapo & Slater (1995: 160) seek to use this passage as evidence that festival judges nominated only a winner when recording their verdict, rather than including second or third choices (as was believed by e.g. Pickard-Cambridge 1968: 97). I am not convinced that this inference can be safely deduced from Lysias’ wording alone, since he could simply be summarising what was for him the key aspect of his opponent’s judgment. On balance, however, I suspect it is a correct hypothesis,7 given the complex mathematics that would be needed to take into account second- or third-preference votes (thus Marshall & Van Willigenburg 2004: 93). Various other inferences from what is said here are noted at p. 352 above, including its signiﬁcance for the identity of the competition being judged (evidently dithyrambic choruses, which competed by tribes), for the relationships between the litigants (and the possible inference that they are members of the same phyle¯), and for the context of this nomination (as well as the possible implications if the speaker has nominated in his capacity as Khore¯gos).8 ἔγραψε µὲν ταῦτα εἰς τὸ γραµµατεῖον (‘he wrote this on his writing-tablet’). The consensus of scholars is that grammateion here is the document on which the festival judge records his vote,9 which implies that this is recorded in writing.10 Given that the speaker claims to know what had been written by his opponent, some scholars have inferred that the authors of individual ballots must therefore have been identiﬁable (thus Csapo & Slater 1995: 158, 163), though it is possible that Lysias is expecting us to envisage the author of this ballot identifying himself to third parties after the event.11 We have of course only the speaker’s word as to what his opponent had done or said: even if he is telling the truth about the

7 Aelian, VH 2.13 is sometimes cited as evidence for preference voting, but see P. J. Wilson (2000: 100 n. 230). The question needs to be considered in the context of the process of counting the votes, for which see §4n α2π λαχε δ . 8 I am not convinced by the argument of Marshall & Van Willigenburg that the use of the singular ‘my’ here excludes the opponent from membership of the same tribe: see further p. 352 n. 18 above. 9 Several earlier scholars (Francken 1865: 38, Jebb 1893 [1876].i: 275 n. 1) interpreted it as a writing-tablet on which the opponent had recorded his alleged agreement with the speaker regulating joint use of the female slave following the reconciliation. This interpretation, however, involves positing an extended ellipse (‘but he was excluded by lot’). 10 The practice in Athenian law courts was to use unwritten ballots, but this system was not well adapted for trials with more than two candidates (cf. the claim of unfairness in the voting at Dem. 43.7–10), so the use of written ballots for festival judging might well have been seen as a sensible expedient (it does not seem to me necessary to hypothesise preference voting as a further explanation, cf. above). We cannot automatically infer the same level of literacy on the part of dikastic jurors, given that festival judges (who were presumably fewer in number) may have been nominated by Khore¯goi and thus selected from a higher social class (for the use of krite¯s rather than dikaste¯s to denote a festival judge, see P. J. Wilson 2000: 98 n. 223). 11 Thus Marshall & Van Willigenburg (2004: 195), arguing for a secret ballot. Admittedly IG ii2, 1153.3–7, cited by P. J. Wilson (2000: 101 n. 234), honours one Metagenes for voting as festival judge for his own phyle¯, but this could in theory again be self-declaration.

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unavailable witnesses Philinos and Diokles (§4n), this need only mean that this was what they—and perhaps he—had heard from the opponent’s lips. ἀπέλαχε δέ (‘but was excluded by lot’).12 The compound apo- in apolankhano¯ can signify either ‘select from’ (i.e. for use) or ‘select out’ (i.e. rejection), but its meaning in this context is clearly the latter, since Lysias’ point is that the content of the opponent’s ballot was never publicly known because it was not included in the count. We have other evidence (discussed at §4n ο! κριτDν µβαλ*ντε) for two stages in the process of selecting festival judges: the initial nomination process seems to have been conducted by the Boule¯ in advance of the festival, with the numbers on the Boule¯’s shortlist being reduced to one from each of the ten phylai by the Arkhon in the theatre immediately before the performances. But the reference here must be to something different, because a would-be judge who was omitted at either of these two stages would presumably not have had the chance to write on his voting-ballot (which the opponent evidently had done, cf. previous note). The inference would seem to be that after votes had been recorded by the ten selected judges, a further process of selection took place which led to some of these ballots being used to determine the results, and the unused ones being discarded, presumably unopened. That much is generally accepted by scholars, but there is no agreement about the nature and mechanics of this ﬁnal selection. A cryptic reference in our sources to a proverb about the decision being ‘in the lap of ﬁve judges’ (Zenob. 3.64: ν π ντε κριτν γο$νασι κε;ται) led Pickard-Cambridge (1968: 97–98) to suggest that ﬁve of the ten ballots were selected by lot, but given that festival competitions have more than two contestants, this might just as well result in a tie as not, while another ancient author speaks even more mysteriously of the judges’ decision being made by ‘ﬁve or seven or however many’ (Lucian, Harmonides, §2: κρνουσι δ& /πτα` e π ντε e 9σοι δ). On this basis, more recent scholars have modiﬁed Pickard-Cambridge’s hypothesis by suggesting that unused ballots would if necessary be used to break such a tie, though with varying suggestions as to how this could be done.13 (An alternative though less attractive view is that the proverbial number ﬁve represents not the initial selection of ballots but the number needed for an unbeatable majority: i.e. that ballots would continue to

12

For Dobree’s rejection of a supposed testimonium to this passage, see p. 350 n. 9 above. Csapo & Slater (1995: 159) envisage additional ballots being selected one by one on a suddendeath basis, while Marshall & Van Willigenburg (2004: 90) have two ballots being simultaneously opened to bring the number up to seven (which they see as explaining the Lucian passage above), followed by further individual ballots as necessary. Additional complexity is created by the fact that the festival judging process was designed to award not simply a prize to the winner but a ranking order for other contestants (esp. if we accept that each judge cast only a single vote, cf. §3n, which would presumably necessitate having what is termed a ‘robust’ method of deciding who had the second highest number of such votes). Several scholars have noted the possibility that the winner (i.e. the person who secured the largest number of votes to be selected) need not necessarily have won the largest number cast. 13

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be drawn either until one contestant had secured ﬁve votes or until all votes had been counted.)14 §4. Φιλῖνος καὶ ∆ιοκλῆς (‘Philinos and Diokles’). Both names are common at Athens (LGPN Attica reports 126 individuals named Philinos and 238 named Diokles), and these men cannot be identiﬁed. If the reason for their knowledge is that they had joined with the speaker in nominating his opponent, then they are likely all to be members of the same phyle¯ (thus Marzi 1956: 20, plausibly, though ‘we <nominated>’ could be plural for singular). Drawing attention to the unavailability of one’s own witnesses is rare in the Orators. The nearest parallel is the case of Straton in Dem. 21.83–95, who is unavailable to witness because he has suffered atimia, but there Demosthenes is clearly milking the story for all its pathos (cf. particularly the invitation to Straton to stand in silence at 21.95).15 What is surprising here is the bald statement of unavailability without real explanation: see following note. µὴ διοµοσαµένοις περὶ τῆς αἰτίας ἧς ἐγὼ ϕεύγω (‘they have not sworn the dio¯mosia concerning the charge on which I am the defendant’). Whereas in other courts litigants alone swore an oath (the anto¯mosia) and witnesses were unsworn, homicide law required litigants and their witnesses together to swear a special oath known as the dio¯mosia.16 This involved swearing over cut portions of sacriﬁcial animals (Dem. 23.67–68), invoking destruction on oneself and one’s descendants if forsworn (Ant. 5.11); the prosecutor had to swear that the defendant had committed the killing and the defendant had to swear that he had not done so (Ant. 6.16); and from the fact that witnesses in homicide trials are said to have had to join in the same oath as the litigants for whom they were appearing, with their hands touching the same sacriﬁce (Ant. 5.12), it is a reasonable inference that the witnesses too had to swear to the defendant’s guilt or innocence.17 Lysias makes no attempt to explain why Philinos and Diokles have failed to swear the oath, but if the speaker’s nomination of his opponent as judge was as part of 14 This was proposed by Pope (1986). But even in a competition like tragedy, with only three contestants at the Dionysia, a system which continues until the winner has ﬁve votes can easily mean that all ten ballots have to be counted (and potentially without a clear winner even so, if the votes split 4–4–2). Both tendencies would have been exacerbated for comedies (typically ﬁve contestants), and esp. for dithyrambic competitions (ten contestants, as presumably in the present case: see p. 352 n. 16 above), making it odd that Lysias can speak of the opponent’s ballot having been excluded. 15 Ekmarturia (for which see Bonner 1905: 25–27) and exo¯mosia (see Leisi 1907: 67–70, Todd 1990a: 24–25, Carey 1995a), though both relatively common, are procedures designed to deal with the problem of unavailable or unwilling witnesses, but that is a parallel for the underlying problem, rather than for the approach taken by Lysias here. 16 Lipsius (1905–15: 832 n. 12) is still the fullest collection of refs., but see also the discussions in MacDowell (1963: 90–100) and in Carawan (1998: 138–142). 17 There are certain logical problems in this system: on the assumption that the oath was taken seriously, for instance, it would preclude the appearance of a potential witness who might have valuable information but was not in a position to be convinced of the defendant’s guilt or innocence. For the suggestion that Athenian law did not normally bother too much if a witness testiﬁed to something that in strict logic he could not know, see Todd (1990a: 38).

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the wider settlement of reconciliation between them, then it is possible that they are the mutual friends who sought to negotiate that settlement at §2; if so, their failure to swear may reﬂect a deliberate refusal on their part to support either side. Alternatively, they may simply be unwilling or unable to swear to his innocence. For the absence of witnesses throughout this speech, see §12n. ἐπεὶ σαϕῶς ἔγνωτ’ αν (‘in that case you would have known for certain’). The sequence of thought is somewhat elliptical: ‘ because you would have known for certain’. οἱ κριτὴν ἐµβαλόντες (‘the people who put his name forward as judge’). For the plural, see last note but two. The evidence for nomination procedures for festival judges is well analysed by Pickard-Cambridge (1968: 96–97); some further suggestions are noted by P. J. Wilson (2000: 99). An anecdote in Plutarch (Kimon, 8.7–9) makes clear that the ﬁnal selection was made by lot by the Arkhon at the start of the festival, and that this was done on a tribal basis even in the case of the drama competition which was itself non-tribal. An earlier stage in the process is mentioned in Isok. 17.33–34, which implies that the Boule¯ had previously approved a much wider slate of names, sealing them for security in hudriai or water-vessels until the day of the festival, and Isokrates’ use of the plural hudriai (noted by Pope 1986: 322 n. 2), taken in conjunction with Plutarch’s assumption that the judges chosen on the day represent their tribes, suggests that what the Boule¯ approved was ten separate tribal short-lists. Pickard-Cambridge (1968: 96–97) suggests that the most likely capacity for the speaker to have made the nomination here is as Khore¯gos (see p. 352 above); and given his known involvement in the antidosis, this seems more economical than the alternative suggestion of Francken (1865: 39) that he did so as Bouleute¯s. Isokrates himself makes clear that Khore¯goi were present when nominations were approved by the Boule¯; P. J. Wilson (2000: 99) notes that it is likely to have been from the tribes that the Boule¯ would have received nominations to tribal panels, and this would provide another context for a Khore¯gos to have taken the initiative. ἡµῶν ἕνεκα ἐκαθίζετο (‘it was because of us that he took his seat’), lit. ‘sat’, sc. as festival judge. The likelihood that those eventually selected as judges had special seats in the theatre is noted by P. J. Wilson (2000: 99).

Rebuttal of opponent’s version of ﬁght (§§5–7) §5. ἦλθον αὐτὸς αὐτὸν ἀποκτενῶν (‘I went out myself to kill him’). Future participle of purpose embodying the allegation of intent. ὡς οὗτός ϕησι (‘or so he claims’). The speaker’s version of his intentions here is given at the end of §7, and he includes this at §11 among a number of points over which the two litigants’ versions differ. βίᾳ εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν εἰσῆλθον (‘entered his house by force’). For the rhetoric of hostile entry into one’s house, see 1.23n, 3.6–7nn: violent entry is a much more signiﬁcant transgression than a simple ﬁght in the street (compare the contrast

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between Simon’s and his opponent’s alleged behaviour at 3.29). The fact of having gone to the house is acknowledged by the speaker at §15, but he challenges the opponent’s version of his motives and circumstances (and presumably of the violence) at §11. ὑποχείριον λαβὼν τὸ σῶµα (‘given that I had him physically under my control’), lit. ‘had got his body . . .’. The conjunction of hupokheirios (a rare word) and so¯ma is found twice in the Orators, on both occasions with negative connotations: at 10.27, it is used to deny that an Athenian General was ever captured by the enemy, and at Lyk. 1.119 it is following their failure to secure the person of the traitor Hipparkhos son of Kharmos that the Athenians destroy his memorial. τοσοῦτον κρατήσας ὥστε καὶ τὴν ανθρωπον λαβεῖν (‘gained such a victory that I actually took the slave-girl’). The implication seems to be that the opponent is claiming that she had been living in his household at least in the immediate run-up to the ﬁght (and presumably therefore has lived or continued to live there after the agreement to abandon the antidosis, contrary to what is said at §2 about his motives for making it), but that the speaker had simply carried her off on the night of the ﬁght. (There is indeed some evidence that she was present in the same room while the ﬁght was taking place, cf. §15n.) The speaker does not make clear here which particular elements he rejects in this version of events, but given what he subsequently claims about joint ownership (§10, §12, §16), he must presumably be claiming either that she was already in his possession and that he took her with him, or alternatively that he had been enforcing his rights to share possession on the basis of an agreement which the opponent was refusing to honour.18 §6. οὐδείς γε ὑµῶν ἀγνοεῖ (‘each one of you is aware’). For the use of appeals to the jury’s knowledge in Lysias and other orators, see 10.1n. ἐγχειριδίῳ πληγείς . . . ἢ πὺξ παιόµενος (‘if struck by a knife than if punched by a ﬁst’). A statement that is broadly true, though the force of the argument is somewhat undermined by the mention in the next sentence of the opponent’s claim to have been struck by pottery, which would stand to do signiﬁcantly more damage than a ﬁst. For the signiﬁcance of the fact that private citizens at Athens do not normally seem to have carried formal weapons, cf. the Herman/D. Cohen debate on civic violence and honour-codes, discussed at p. 51 n. 36 above. τοιοῦτόν τι ἔχοντας (‘armed with anything of the sort’), lit. ‘having’, but in context the reference is clearly to the carrying of a knife in the previous sentence. ὀστράκῳ ϕησὶ πληγῆναι (‘he says he was struck with pottery’).19 Whereas Simon evidently claimed at 3.28 that his opponent had brought his pottery with him, the 18 Compare the alleged agreement of Phrynion and Stephanos at Dem. 59.46 that each of them should have Neaira’s services on what Apollodoros describes as alternate days. 19 Ostrakon, as noted at 3.28n, can denote either a whole vessel or its broken pieces.

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allegation as reported by Lysias in the current speech (particularly if we accept the received text at §7, cf. next note but one) seems to be that the speaker had snatched it up inside the house during the course of the ﬁght. Of course to paraphrase the prosecutor’s account in this way may be precisely how Lysias is seeking to undermine the charge of premeditation (in contrast to 3.28, where the aim is to make the narrative detail itself sound ridiculous). ὅτι οὐ πρόνοια γεγένηται (‘that there was no pronoia’). The ﬁrst of several denials of pronoia in the speech (see also §7, §12, §18, and cf. 3.28n). For the legal signiﬁcance of the term, see p. 283 above. §7. ὄστρακον ἢ ὅτῳ (‘pottery or anything’). The phrase dστρακον e is deleted by Reiske (1770. v: 171), followed by Albini (1955: 35), but the repetition from §6 does not seem excessive, and the received text serves to emphasise the point made there about the absence of premeditation. πρὸς παῖδας καὶ αὐλητρίδας καὶ µετ’ οἴνου ἐλθόντες (‘we were going after boys and ﬂute-girls, and that we had been drinking’). For a similar catalogue of postsymposiastic behaviour, see 3.43: the classic example of the abduction of a ﬂutegirl in our sources follows the symposion in Aristoph. Wasps, 1326–1386, and symposiastic violence over ﬂute-girls and hetairai is alluded to at Dem. 21.36 and 54.14 respectively.20 Lysias does not say why such a set of intentions would have led his client into his opponent’s house (though see §11n), but he presumably has in mind the type of drunken and uninvited entry that is characteristic of a ko¯mos (see p. 351 with n. 13 above). There is however a signiﬁcant difference between the level of drunkenness suggested here and that implied by paroinos at §8n: the latter has unacceptable overtones of violence, whereas met’ oinou here suggests a level of merriment which, while it may lead to unacceptable behaviour,21 is nevertheless within the limits of what Lys. 3.43 regards as capable of being glossed over in the morning.

Arguments from opponent’s character (§§8–9) §8. δύσερως (‘love-sick’). For love as an afﬂiction, see 3.4n. ἀµϕότερα βούλεται . . . βουλοµένη ὑπ’ ἀµϕοτέρων ἐρᾶσθαι (‘he has two passions . . . she wishes to be loved by both’). The chiasmus here is striking, even at a distance of forty words, because the two phrases relate to different people, inviting the audience to compare two equally inappropriate sets of wishes: those 20 References to boys in such contexts are less common, at least in the Orators, perhaps because their ideal involvement in the symposion is as élite citizen ero¯menoi (whose abduction would therefore be more problematic than that of non-citizen women). But there is none of the embarrassment here that is shown at 3.4n, possibly because the speaker here is a younger man, but perhaps also because a one-night stand is less problematic than a long-term relationship. 21 Thuc. 6.28.1 uses the phrase µετα` παιδια˜ κα ο1νου of young men damaging herms and other statues. (For paidia, ‘horseplay’, in combination with drunkenness, cf. 3.43n.) For the admission of what are deemed venial ﬂaws as a method of characterisation used by Lysias to make his clients more believable, see p. 51 n. 35 above.

374

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of the female slave because as a slave she should not in principle be entitled to a view of her own (though in practice she may well have some capacity to inﬂuence the outcome of the dispute), and those of the opponent as being simply dishonest. τό τε ἀργύριον µὴ ἀποδοῦναι καὶ τὴν ανθρωπον ἔχειν (‘not to give back the money, but to have the slave-girl’). Taken on its own, apodido¯mi here and at §9 could mean simply ‘pay’ (LSJ, s.v. I.1: i.e. buy her from me irrespective of how I acquired her), but the claims at §10 and §12 to have contributed half the purchase implies that what he is hypothesising here is repayment of his share. The second clause does not in itself resolve the question of which of the two has possession, but see §5n. ὀξύχειρ (‘quick with his ﬁsts’). A rare word (unique in the extant Orators), and the source of the only ancient testimonium to this speech which can be regarded as certain: see p. 350 n. 9 above. πάροινος (‘prone to drunken violence’). Para- in paroine¯o implies the misuse of wine, so it is hardly surprising that the word and its cognates have a consistently negative force (contrast met’ oinou at §7). It suggests a level of violence that is out of control, as in Demosthenes’ story about the Olynthian slave-woman, who allegedly would have been killed as a result of Aiskhines’ paroinia if Iatrokles had not intervened (Dem. 19.198). It is of course something which in the Orators is normally being predicated of one’s opponents (as at 3.19), being rarely applied to oneself, and then only for the purposes of denial (as at 1.45).22 ἀνάγκη δὲ ἀµύνασθαι (‘it is necessary to defend oneself’). Violence in self-defence, provided it is not too closely deﬁned, is clearly acceptable: cf. 3.8n and 3.18n. This phrase makes it fairly clear, however, that the speaker is not denying that a ﬁght took place. βουλοµένη ὑπ’ ἀµϕοτέρων ἐρᾶσθαι (‘she wishes to be loved by both’). For the chiasmus, see last note but four. What is said here is at variance with what is said about her feelings at §17, but both claims ﬁt their immediate context. Here her ambivalent reactions serve to imply that she really is jointly owned, and thereby to legitimise the speaker’s seizure of possession (at least according to the opponent’s account, cf. §5n) following the ﬁght at §§5–7, whereas §17’s insistence that she has favoured the opponent is used to heighten the reliability of the speaker’s challenge to torture. §9. τραῦµά γε ὀνοµάζων τὰ ὑπώπια (‘to describe a black eye as a “wound” ’). For the signiﬁcance of facial injuries in trauma ek pronoias cases, see 3.8n. ἐν κλίνῃ περιϕερόµενος (‘to be carried around on a litter’), i.e. a stretcher. When the opponent does this, it is of course despicable (cf. Aiskhin. 3.212), but 22

For words which can be used to denote one’s own drinking, see 1.12n.

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§9–10

375

something pretty similar is done by Lysias’ client Arkhippos in an attempt to excite popular sympathy for his injuries against Teisis, though the speaker there is careful to attribute the initiative for this to his brothers rather than to Arkhippos himself (frag. 279 Teisis, §6). πόρνης ἀνθρώπου (‘prostitute slave-girl’). For the lexical signiﬁcance of porne¯ (‘one who is put up for sale’. i.e. prostitute typically in a brothel seeing clients for cash), and the contrast with the much more euphemistic language (hetaireo¯, ‘to be a companion’) used of Theodotos in the previous speech, see 3.24n. Kapparis (1999: 409), followed by Miner (2003: 21 n. 9), identiﬁes Lys. 4 as a speech in which porne¯ is used pejoratively about somebody whose relationship is clearly that of a long-term ‘companion’ (i.e. a hetaira), though I wonder if an Athenian might more naturally have thought of her as a pallake¯ (‘concubine’, for which see 1.31n: the closest parallel would be Ant. 1.14–20, in which there is no particular attempt to disparage the woman concerned). For the use of other derogatory terminology to denote the female slave in this speech, see §1n. ἣν ἔξεστιν αὐτῷ ἀναµϕισβητήτως ἔχειν (‘he could have undisputed control of her’). Amphisbe¯teo¯ and cognates are standard terms for a legal dispute (particularly for a contested claim to an inheritance), but tend not to be used to denote ﬁghts. ἀποδόντι τἀργύριον (‘if he simply paid back the money’). For the signiﬁcance of apodido¯mi here, see §8n.

Opponent’s refusal to accept challenge to torture slave (§§10–17) §10. καί ϕησι µέν (‘he claims’). Although the terms logos and ergon do not themselves appear, this sentence presumably draws on the ubiquitous contrast between unreliable statements (by the opponent) and reliable actions (not simply the torture itself, for which see §14n, but also his refusal to accept the challenge). δεινῶς ἐπιβουλευθῆναι (‘to have been plotted against in terrible ways’). For the use of epibouleuo¯ in trauma ek pronoias cases, see 3.29n. ἐξὸν δ’ ἐκ τῆς ἀνθρώπου βασανισθείσης τὸν ἔλεγχον ποιήσασθαι (‘although it would be possible for him to obtain the proof from the slave-girl under torture’).23 The ﬁrst of only two appearances in the Lysianic corpus of the formal adversarial challenge to torture a slave for evidence.24 Challenges in the other orators, how23 The primary sense of elenkhos, according to LSJ s.v. B, is ‘argument of disproof or refutation’. (For the verb elenkho¯, see 5.4n.) It is used with poioumai on several occasions in the Orators, with reference normally to slave-torture (here and at §12; Isai. 8.10), and once to documentary evidence (Dem. 33.36). The context of the phrase is always adversarial, and its implication (as noted by Thür 1977: 178) seems to be one of conclusiveness: it offers one party the chance to prove his case—hence my translation—by refuting his opponent. 24 The other formal challenge is at 7.34–38. The remaining references to torture in Lysias, if we leave aside the mysterious and probably misleading allusion to the torturability of Theodotos at 3.33 and Andokides’ alleged offer at 6.21, are either unilateral threats by individual owners outside the context of the law court (1.16–18), or relate to the inquisitorial torture of non-citizens by the Thirty (13.25–27, 13.59).

376

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§10–11

ever, are more common: Thür’s classic study (1977) identiﬁes and discusses no fewer than forty-two examples, noting that on forty occasions the challenge was ﬂatly rejected and that even in the two remaining cases the torture was never carried out.25 The discussion of the challenge in this speech is among the more protracted (§§10–17), though the incompleteness of the speech makes it difﬁcult to determine whether this is because it was the speaker’s strongest argument or— as in Ant. 1—his only one. Given the amount of space devoted to the challenge here, and given the function of the slave in question, it is perhaps surprising that Lysias makes no attempt to deal with the opponent’s possible counter-argument that he had refused because he did not wish to risk damaging her; nor does he appear to think that the audience will show any negative reaction to the proposition that the speaker is so keen on her that he is willing to have her tortured.26 He does however deal with one counter-argument put forward by the opponent, that of manumission (for the implications of which see §12n), and devotes some time to confronting an apparent counter-challenge from the opponent to torture others of his slaves instead (see §§15–16). τοῦτ’ αν κατεῖπεν (‘she would have made clear’), lit. ‘recounted’. She would presumably have known about patterns of use and possession, but it is in fact by no means clear that she would have known the legal position as regards ownership, let alone (at least if the two litigants had been friends at the time) the details of who had contributed what to her purchase. τὸ ἥµισυ . . . συνεβαλόµην (‘I had contributed half the money’). The ﬁrst explicit claim to have contributed towards the cost, presumably at the moment of initial purchase. See further §12 and §16. εἰ διηλλαγµένοι ἢ ἔτι ἐχθροὶ ἦµεν (‘whether we had been reconciled or were still enemies’). For the state of enmity being the thing that would give the ﬁght its interpretative meaning, see p. 349 n. 6 above. For the terminology of reconciliation, see §1n. The alternatives are stark, and admit of no neutrality: either reconciliation or enmity. §11. εἰ µεταπεµϕθέντες ἤλθοµεν ἢ οὐδενὸς καλέσαντος (‘whether we had gone out because we had been sent for, or without anybody inviting us’). To have arrived without invitation would be more aggressive, so presumably the speaker’s contention is that he was invited. (‘We’ can hardly include the female slave, who appears 25

Discussions of this problem since Thür (1977) have included Todd (1990a); Gagarin (1996); Mirhady (1996, with response in same number of journal by Thür); Johnstone (1999: 70–92); and Mirhady (2000). 26 The Orators do not appear to regard the torturing of a jointly owned slave as problematic in principle (such torture is said to have been carried out at Dem. 48.16 and is envisaged at Dem. 40.15, though the ﬁrst of these passages is certainly a private arrangement rather than an adversarial challenge, and Thür 1977: 46–47 suspects that the same applies to the second passage also). Nor do they show any hesitation in demanding the torture of female slaves (e.g. Dem. 46.21; 47.8; 59.122, with females and males together at Isai. 8.9 and Lyk. 1.29: discussion in Thür 1977: 257–258), but in each case these are slaves kept for domestic rather than erotic purposes.

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§11–12

377

from §5 to have been living with the opponent before the ﬁght: it may be plural for singular, or else a reference to fellow-symposiasts, though nothing is made of these at §5.) It is not clear why the speaker should have been invited,27 nor how this relates to the statement about boys and ﬂute-girls and drinking at §7. εἰ οὗτος ἦρχε χειρῶν ἀδίκων (‘whether this man had begun the ﬁght’).28 If the point being made here is a serious one (though see §10n), it would imply that she was not only available for the speaker to carry off at the end of the ﬁght (see §5), but was also present at its outbreak. οὐδὲν ἦν ὅ τι οὐ ῥᾴδιον τοῖς τε αλλοις ἐµϕανὲς καὶ τούτοις ποιῆσαι (‘there was nothing which it would not easily have made clear both to these men and to everybody else’). A difﬁcult sentence: I take the unstated subject of poie¯sai (‘made’) to be ‘this procedure’ (i.e. torture), but it could be ‘she’; similarly, toutois (‘these’) could denote either the court (thus Carey’s OCT apparatus) or alternatively the speaker’s opponents; but either way, there is no obvious referent for allois (‘everybody else’, lit. ‘the others’). For the possibility of a lacuna after this sentence, see next note but one. §12. οὔτε πρόνοια ἐγένετο οὔτε ἀδικῶ τοῦτον (‘that there was no pronoia and that I did not commit an offence against this man’). The absence of premeditation would not in itself rule out lesser offences, because the speaker’s behaviour might have been such as to justify a dike¯ aikeias (focusing on physical injury) or even a dike¯ blabe¯s (focusing on the seizure of the female slave), but it is very much in Lysias’ interests to subsume the latter into the former. ἐκ τοσούτων τεκµηρίων καὶ µαρτυριῶν (‘on the basis of many [lit. ‘so many’] pieces of evidence and witness-testimonies’). An odd statement, because the speech as we have it contains only one argument and no witnesses (cf. §4n). Some scholars have posited a lacuna between §§11–12 to allow the presentation of witnesses (e.g. Francken 1865: 41), but this would have to be a very long one to rescue the tekme¯ria (here translated ‘pieces of evidence’, though see following note). If we are prepared to regard tekme¯ria here as persuasive rhetoric, a plausible explanation of the witnesses is that of Blass (1887 [1868]: 585 n. 2), that the obvious place for them would have been in the missing narrative section of the speech. The hypothesis that what we have here is the second speech by a defendant who had produced his witnesses and supporting arguments in the ﬁrst one is noted but not supported at pp. 350–351 above. 27 He evidently wants it to be read as a sign of friendship on the part of his opponent, but it could have been an invitation to resolve some outstanding item of business between them (for instance possession of the female slave). 28 Hesykhios, s.v. :ρχεν, may well be a reference to this passage, though the author and text are not identiﬁed and the phrase quoted (:ρχεν . . . χειρν α2δκων) derives from a phrase in a law on legitimate self-defence quoted at Dem. 23.50 (‘α%ν τι τ$πτb τινα´’ φησ ν ‘α%ρχων χειρν α2δκων’). Only Lys. 4.11 uses the indicative :ρχε, whereas all the other references to this law in extant speeches use a form of the participle (α%ρχων in Ant. Tetral. 3.2.1 and Isok. 20.1, α%ρχοντο at Dem. 47.15). But we cannot rule out the possibility that the reference is to a lost text and possibly a different author.

378

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §12

ὅσον αν ἐγένετο σηµεῖον τούτῳ . . . τοσοῦτον ἐµοὶ τεκµήριον (‘whatever inference [se¯meion] in favour of this man . . . just as much inference [tekme¯rion] in my favour’). Aristotle’s treatment of rhetorical syllogisms (Rhet. 1.2.16–18 = 1357b1–21) distinguishes between these two terms, using tekme¯rion to denote an ‘infallible sign’ (i.e. a fact, event, or action from which an inference can legitimately be concluded) from the broader generality that is se¯meion (‘sign’). The Orators, by contrast, use the terms without any clear distinction of meaning, though with very distinct patterns of usage: Antiphon and Demosthenes are happy with both terms interchangeably, but Lysias like Isaios shows a strong preference for tekme¯rion. (This is indeed the only use of se¯meion in a surviving forensic speech within the Lysianic corpus, whereas tekme¯rion appears twentynine times.) For a detailed study, see Bateman (1958a: 13–14). ϕυγόντος ἐµοῦ τὴν βάσανον (‘if I had refused the challenge to torture’). Whereas basanos and cognates can denote the torture itself (as at §10), it can also refer as here to the whole process of challenge and the inferences drawn from its refusal. τοσοῦτον ἰσχῦσαι (‘not have so much weight’). The comparison is left unclear: ‘not as much ’, ‘not as much ’, or ‘not so much ’. τοὺς τούτου λόγους, ὅτι ϕησὶν αὐτὴν ἐλευθέραν εἶναι (‘this man’s statement that she is free’). Since a slave at Athens could only be manumitted by the owner, we must infer that the consent of both owners was required in the case of jointly owned slaves; this certainly is the implication of the phialai exeleutherikai records (see §1n), where joint owners are listed under both names. It follows that the opponent’s claim to have manumitted must constitute a claim to sole ownership, which the speaker rejects while seeking to suggest that manumission under such circumstances is a ploy to evade torture (cf. the similar controversy over the status of Kittos at Isok. 17.50, and of Milyas in Dem. 29.14). This passage has implications for various disputed aspects of the law of evidence in homicide cases. The speaker’s assumption that if manumitted she could not therefore be tortured, for instance, provides strong reasons for rejecting Lipsius’ hypothesis that torture of free non-citizens was permitted in homicide cases (thus Carey 1988: 244, cf. 3.33n). Similarly, his assumption that manumission will have prevented the court from hearing her evidence may have some force against Bonner’s argument that the advice of the Exe¯ge¯tai to the former owner of the retired nurse in Dem. 47.69–70 ‘can be satisfactorily explained only by assuming that, in cases of homicide, women, and children as well, regularly appeared in the capacity of witnesses’ (Bonner 1906: quotation from p. 127): at the least, the present passage suggests that there cannot have been such a rule covering all free women.29 29 MacDowell (1963: 102–109) reviews the question, and concludes that the evidence is inconclusive: he does not discuss this passage, but produces good arguments to suggest that Dem. 47.69–70 is not as clear-cut as Bonner believed.

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§12–14

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ὁµοίως γὰρ προσήκει . . . τὸ ἴσον καταθέντι (‘equally concerned . . . contributed an equal amount’: the same verb is used of his alleged contribution at §16). True in the sense that if joint-owner he would have had to consent to it (see previous note), and he does not want to spoil the neatness of the word-play by bringing in the fact that his immediate focus of §§10–17 is on how to obtain her evidence, rather than his right to her person. But the joint ownership itself is asserted rather than argued. §13. εἰς µὲν λύσιν τοῦ σώµατος (‘for the purpose of ransoming my body’). The beginnings of a complex argument, that if captured by the enemy he would lose his fatherland just as much as if convicted in the present trial, but that in such hypothetical circumstances he would be entitled to raise money towards his ransom by selling his share in her, so why should he not be entitled similarly to make use of her now by having her tortured for evidence? (The phrase -δωκα τ α2ργ$ριον is evidently a gloss by a copyist who did not realise that there is already a main verb in the protasis, the impersonal ξ8ν.) χρῆσθαι αὐτῇ ὅ τι ἐβουλόµην (‘to make whatever use of her I wished’). The verb has clear sexual overtones when used of a female slave (see §1n), but there is also a sense in which he is thinking of her as a commodity who could be turned into cash. κινδυνεύοντι δέ µοι περὶ τῆς πατρίδος (‘when I am risking my fatherland’). For the use of kinduneuo¯ and of patris (repeated in the ﬁnal sentence of §13), see respectively 3.2n and 3.38n. παρὰ µὲν ἐκείνων βουλοµένων ἀπολῦσαι ἔστι καὶ αλλοθεν εὐπορήσαντι κοµισθῆναι, ἐπὶ δὲ τοῖς ἐχθροῖς γενόµενον οὐ δυνατόν (‘from those men, assuming they are willing to release you, it is possible for somebody who is well off to have himself repatriated on the basis of other capital assets [lit. ‘from elsewhere’] as well, whereas this cannot be done with regards to one’s personal enemies’). Rather convoluted (see last note but two), but perhaps less so in Greek than is inevitable in translation: ekeino¯n (‘those men’) refers here to a foreign enemy (polemioi, as in previous sentence), whereas ekhthroi are personal enemies as opposing litigants. §14. ὥσθ’ ὑµῖν προσήκει µὴ ἀποδέχεσθαι αὐτοῦ . . . ἀξιοῦντος (‘so you ought not to accept his argument’). The introductory particle makes this sound like the climax to an elaborate piece of logic, but in fact its basic premise (that the speaker was joint-owner) has throughout §§12–14 been asserted rather than argued. ὅτι αὐτὴν ἐλευθέραν ἐσκήπτετο εἶναι (‘because he claims she is free’). The verb is cognate with ske¯psis, which is a legal procedure used in conjunction with antidosis (details in Harrison 1968–71.ii: 234–236), but it does not seem to have those technical connotations here. συκοϕαντίαν καταγιγνώσκειν (‘convict him of sykophancy’). Precisely what it is about the opponent’s behaviour that Lysias affects to regard as sykophancy

380

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§14–16

depends in part on how we interpret the meaning of the term (see 1.44n for the Osborne/Harvey debate over how far the sykophant is a rhetorical construct and how far a real ﬁgure), not least because katagigno¯sko¯ is presumably designed to hint at the possibility of a formal prosecution by graphe¯ sukophantias. παραλιπὼν ἔλεγχον οὕτως ἀκριβῆ (‘leaving aside so conclusive a test’). The claim that evidence of slaves given under torture is more reliable than that of free witnesses is a commonplace in the Orators: thus e.g. Isai. 8.12 and Dem. 30.37. Anaxim., Rhet.Alex. 16.2–3 = 1432a19–33, however, shows that ancient rhetorical theorists were perfectly aware of the self-serving nature of such remarks, on which see further Thür (1977: 310). §15. τήν γε τούτου πρόκλησιν (‘his challenge’). Prokle¯sis here is the technical term for the challenge to torture: it appears that the opponent had responded to the speaker’s challenge by issuing a counter-challenge to torture a different group of his slaves instead (oiketai, for which see 1.42n), which the speaker has in turn rejected, arguing at §§15–16 that the original challenge was a more telling one. The nearest parallel to such a reciprocal challenge is probably Dem. 29.38, where the speaker indicates his willingness to hand over for torture a different group of slaves from the one which his opponent is demanding. ἐκείνη µᾶλλον αν ᾔδει (‘she would know better’). For the questions which the slave would allegedly be better equipped to answer, compare the similar but not identical phrasing at §11. It is not speciﬁed why she would be better equipped, but the natural assumption seems to be that whereas the oiketai were in the house, only she was actually in the same room at the time of the ﬁght. (For the outcome of the ﬁght being that the speaker gained control of her, see §5n.) §16. ἰδίους ὄντας τούτου (‘who are this man’s personal property’). As if carrying the implication that their evidence would therefore be tainted, but in fact the adversarial challenge to torture was designed precisely to deal with slaves privately owned by one of the litigants (Thür 1977: 60), rather than those belonging to a third party or to the state. The genitive repetition of toutou (‘this man’s’) is as strident in Greek as it is in English. ἀνοήτως (‘in an unthinking manner’), i.e. unquestioningly. This is the manuscript reading, accepted by Hude and Thalheim, and printed by Carey, though the latter’s apparatus gives tentative approval to Markland’s conjecture εκ*τω (‘would probably have acted to please him’), which is accepted by Gernet & Bizos and by Albini. χαριζόµενοι (‘acted to please him’). Part of the rhetoric of slave-torture is the idea that slaves will naturally say what pleases their masters (Lyk. 1.30, Isok. 17.55)— or contrariwise that their statements are motivated by hatred of their masters (Lys. 7.35).

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§16–18

381

αὕτη δὲ ὑπῆρχε κοινή . . . [§17] . . . ἀλλ’ ἀπεκινδύνευον τοῦτο (‘the woman, however, was jointly owned . . . but I was willing to run that risk’). A difﬁcult passage, which editors have handled in a variety of ways: I have for convenience followed Carey’s text, though he himself admits uncertainty. The majority of scholars have seen the need to move the main sense-break back half-a-dozen words so that the sentence ends no longer with the Palatinus manuscript’s ν τα$τb (which yields the meaningless ‘and nothing will escape anybody’s notice in her’) but with γεγ νηται, and there is general agreement on a series of minor emendations, including the insertion of 9τι to introduce indirect speech after λσει (or a substitute verb: see Carey’s apparatus), and the need to make τα$τb ﬁt the case of βασανισθεση or vice versa. There is however disagreement over whether to accept κα µα´λιστα [δει as a separate clause (as Hude and Carey, ‘she had the greatest knowledge’), or to delete it as repetition of §15 and run straight into the next sentence (as e.g. Thalheim, ‘and it was because of her’). ὁµοίως ἀµϕοτέρων ἀργύριον κατατεθηκότων (‘both parties had contributed money alike’). Reiterating in very similar terms the claim made at §12. §17. καὶ οὐ λήσει οὐδέν̓ <ὅτι> (‘it will not escape anybody’s notice that’). For the textual problems here, see last-but-one note. πολὺ γὰρ περὶ πλείονος τοῦτον ἢ ἐµὲ ϕαίνεται ποιησαµένη (‘it is clear that she placed far higher value on this man than on myself’). For the internal contradiction, see §8n. ἠδικηκυῖα . . . ἐξαµαρτοῦσα (‘offending . . . wronging’). Probably no more than variatio, though the fact that adikeo¯ is transitive may direct slightly more attention towards the wrong done to the speaker, whereas the intransitive examartano¯ is only incidentally directed against an individual. ἐγὼ µὲν εἰς ταύτην κατέϕυγον (‘I wanted to use this as my defence’), lit. ‘ﬂee to it for refuge’ (a surprisingly defensive term). ‘This’ presumably denotes either the torture or the challenge (both are feminine nouns), or alternatively the female slave.

§§18–20: Peroration A peroration, but a rather ﬂat one. Blass in his ﬁrst edition (1868: 595) was rather ﬂattering, describing it as having more brevity and succinctness than Lys. 3, with short cola when rebuking the opponent and more complex sentences when discussing the challenge; his second edition (1887: 587) seems more measured. §18. περὶ τῆς πατρίδος µοι καὶ τοῦ βίου ὁ ἀγών ἐστιν (‘the contest is about my fatherland and my life’). To speak of losing one’s fatherland in a case involving capital punishment would seem distinctly odd (those executed for e.g. treason are frequently denied burial in Attica, but to my knowledge that is never described in these terms). Given that exile and conﬁscation of property is evidently the penalty

382

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §§18–19

envisaged in a parallel case at Lys. 3.38, 40, 47, however, we should probably read ‘life’ here as meaning ‘civic life’ or ‘livelihood’ (cf. frag. 151 Against Theomnestos lines 352–353, where ‘body and life’ are said to be at risk in a case involving an unpaid judgment debt for which the penalty could not have been death). For the fatherland (also used at §13), see 3.38n. ἐν ὑπολόγῳ ταύτας τὰς προκλήσεις ποιεῖσθαι (‘take these challenges into account’), i.e. the speaker’s challenge which forms the general subject of §§10–17, together with the opponent’s counter-challenge at §§15–16. τούτων ἔτι µείζους πίστεις (‘proofs that are still stronger’). The use of pisteis to mean ‘proofs’ is frequent in the rhetorical theorists, for whom it serves as a generic technical term incorporating pieces of evidence on the one hand and syllogistic arguments on the other.30 It is much less common in the early Orators, for whom pisteis are normally ‘pledges’ (Andok. 1.107; Lys. 12.77; Isok. 18.30; 18.46), but there is one parallel in Isaios, with several more in Demosthenes (Isai. 8.29; Dem. 28.23; 30.25; 52.32). More common terms for proof in Lysias are noted at §12n. For a litigant to acknowledge an inability to produce stronger proofs is at ﬁrst sight very odd, but is somewhat modiﬁed by the ambiguity of the following sentence. οὐ γὰρ αν ἔχοιµι εἰπεῖν αλλ’ ἢ ταύτας (‘I would not be able to produce any others apart from these’). It is not clear whether he means ‘no other proofs that I did not’, or possibly ‘no other proofs , because I did not’. §19. πόρνην καὶ δούλην ανθρωπον (‘a girl who is a prostitute and a slave’). See §1n. περὶ τῶν µεγίστων εἰς κίνδυνον καθέστηκα (‘being placed in danger over very important matters’). The danger is clearly the trial, but it is not clear whether the important matters are the subject-matter of the trial, or the penalty he faces if convicted. τί κακὸν πώποτε (‘what damage have I ever’). The rhetoric of political quietism often exists in tension with that of public benefactions, but given that the speaker is clearly a member of the liturgical class, it is odd to ﬁnd the former so entirely displacing the latter (contrast e.g. the peroration in the parallel case at 3.47). εἴς τινα τῶν πολιτῶν (‘against any of the citizens’), i.e. fellow-citizens: cf. p. 586 below. 30 Thus Aristot. Rhet. 1.2.1 = 1355b35–39, using the terms pisteis atekhnoi (‘non-artiﬁcial’ or ‘nonskilful’ proofs, i.e. those which exist external to the speech), such as witness testimony, torture of slaves, documents, etc., and pisteis entekhnoi (‘artiﬁcial’ or ‘skilful’ proofs), which are arguments furnished by the orator on the basis of such data. (Similarly Anaxim., Rhet.Alex. 7.2 = 1428a16–19, who uses the terms ‘pisteis which arise from words, deeds and men’ and ‘pisteis that are supplementary [epithetoi]’.)

4. Premeditated Wounding: Commentary §20

383

§20. πρὸς οὖν παίδων καὶ γυναικῶν καὶ θεῶν (‘by your children, by your wives, and by the gods’). Taken on its own, the children could be the speaker’s, but the plural ‘wives’ suggests that they are those of the audience. Appeals on the basis of the speaker’s relatives are not uncommon in the Orators (e.g. Lys. 7.41 [mother], Aiskhin. 2.179 [father, brothers and children], Dem. 45.85 [daughters], Dem. 57.70 [mother]), but an appeal like this is less common. Indeed the only close parallel known to me is Dem. 28.20, which raises the question of whether the speaker, like the young Demosthenes, had no dependants of his own to put forward.31 For appeals to the court not to look on while terrible consequences befall the defendant, see 3.47 and 9.22. αξιος οὔτ’ ἐγὼ ϕεύγειν τὴν ἐµαυτοῦ (‘I do not deserve to be exiled from my ’). Or possibly, ‘to be defendant in my (dike¯).’ τοσαύτην δίκην . . . ὑπὲρ ὧν ϕησιν ἠδικῆσθαι, οὐκ ἠδικηµένος (‘so great a penalty . . . in which he claims to be wronged but was not in fact wronged’). The ﬁrst two references to dike¯ and its cognates here are effective, because used in a different sense; but the third one merely denies the force of the second in a somewhat laboured manner.32 31 For the question of how far if married a man might or might not want to acknowledge in public his keeping of a female slave for sexual purposes, see 1.12n. 32 Linguistically it might have been stronger to have said 7π&ρ xν φησιν Iδικ8σθαι ατ Iδικσα (‘in which he claims to be wronged while being himself the wrongdoer’), but such a sentiment would have been more appropriate to the characterisation of Simon in Lys. 3 than to that of the prosecutor in the present case.

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Lysias 5 On Behalf of Kallias: Defence Speech on a Charge of Hierosulia Introduction This is the ﬁrst in a group of three speeches dealing with varieties of impiety, though damage to the manuscript has left us with a very fragmentary understanding of the case.1 The opening sentence shows that it was written for a third party to deliver on behalf of the defendant Kallias, who is himself a metic (cf. §2). The reference to what has been said by ‘the other speakers’ (τν α%λλων, §1), rather than by Kallias, suggests that the latter has not delivered a major speech in his own defence. It does not rule out the possibility that Kallias made a token appearance before calling on friends to speak on his behalf, though this raises the vexed question of whether and in what cases metics could themselves speak in court.2 Even if Kallias was entitled to speak, it might have been an effective rhetorical strategy not to do so, in order that he—like the recently enfranchised Phormion in Dem. 36.1—could be presented as an inexperienced and inoffensive victim of other people’s designs. Mention of other speakers in the plural tends also to imply that the main defence of Kallias has already been delivered, and that our speaker is one of several sune¯goroi (supporting speakers), appearing as the equivalent of a modern character-witness. Once again the inference is not totally secure, because the speaker could in theory be delivering the substantive defence and referring to arguments presented by putative co-defendants.3 On balance, however, it seems 1 It should however be noted that like Lys. 8–11 (and in contrast to Lys. 3–4), these speeches do not share a single legal procedure: for the grouping of speeches especially in the ﬁrst part of the corpus, see p. 21 above. There are probably no ancient testimonia (though see p. 387 below), and so little survives that modern scholars have not thought it worthwhile to discuss authorship. 2 The case of Lysias himself provides the most important evidence for the debate among scholars over whether a metic could personally address an Athenian law court, or whether he had to be represented by his citizen prostate¯s: see pp. 13–16 above. 3 The phrases τοZ δ& το$των (‘and these men’s <statements>’) at §3, and το$τοι µ*νοι (‘the only people’, lit. ‘to these men alone’) at §5, together probably imply that Kallias is not the only defendant: it is easier to read particularly the second of them as a genuine plural than as ‘to Kallias and to other people in a hypothetically similar situation’.

386

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highly probable, because of the scale of the speech, which at 292 words is by far the shortest in the corpus. Admittedly the speech is incomplete, because the end of Lys. 5 and the start of Lys. 6 have both disappeared through the loss of two folios at the start of the ﬁfth quire of the Palatinus manuscript. These lost pages will have contained in the region of a thousand words,4 but we need to reserve some of this space for what is lost at the start of Lys. 6, where we would certainly expect a substantial prologue (those of the other speeches in this volume are each 100–250 words in length), plus time to introduce the opening exemplum at 6.1. So even on the most generous assumptions (allowing a maximum of c.1,120 words for the missing pages and using a minimum of 150 words for the start of Lys. 6), that would leave only c.1,260 words (292 + c.970) for the whole of Lys. 5, and this could easily be reduced to 1,000 or even 750 words if we adopted a lower ﬁgure for the missing pages or allowed more space at the start of Lys. 6. The speeches of Lysias tend not to be particularly long—1,250–2,500 words is typical—but the only ones shorter than 800 words in our manuscripts are either written for preliminary proceedings (in which the speaker may have been allocated less than the usual time) or else proclaim themselves to be supporting speeches.5 In a speech of this scale, there would hardly have been room to deal with the charges in detail, and Lys. 5 is likely to have focused on constructing Kallias as the ideal metic (thus Whitehead 1977: 45, in a chapter which gives a good idea of possible topoi). Neither the defendant nor the unnamed speaker is otherwise known,6 though a hereditary friendship between them is recounted at §1, to explain the latter’s reasons for supporting the former. Kallias is an extremely common name at Athens, which appears 262 times in LGPN Attica. The only clue to identiﬁcation is a negative one: since the defendant is a metic, he cannot be identiﬁed with any of the 249 of these who are certain or probable Athenian citizens (including e.g. Kallias son of Hipponikos, Andokides’ opponent in the case underlying Lys. 6). Similarly, nothing is said in the surviving speech about the date or the circumstances of the case, though the word hierosulia (lit. ‘theft of sacred things’) appears in the title, and is likely to be based on inference from the lost portions of the speech. (Titles of speeches in our manuscripts are not always reliable,7

4 For the loss of these two folios between 35v and 36r, see Sosower (1987: 10), Carey (2007: p. xviii). In the portions of the Palatinus manuscript containing the speeches that are included in this volume (40 folios = 80 pages in all), the amount of text written varies from 184 to 299 words per page; but these are extremes, and no continuous sequence of four pages contains fewer than 818 or more than 1,121 words. 5 Preliminary proceedings: Lys. 17 (621 words) and Lys. 23 (804 words). Supporting speeches: Lys. 15 (632 words), Lys. 29 (704 words), and Lys. 27 (794 words). Lys. 11 (574 words), is excluded from these comparisons as an obvious epitome of Lys. 10. 6 Bruns (1896: 444) asserts that the speaker is Lysias himself, but gives no reasons. In view of Lysias’ own metic status, it seems unlikely that he would have taken on so prominent a rôle. 7 The title of Lys. 17 is clearly corrupt, and that of Lys. 25 probably so, but both excite suspicion by their vagueness (similarly perhaps the non-forensic Lys. 8). More alarming is the case of Lys. 13, where the title appears to get the procedure wrong (thus Hansen 1976: 131 n. 2); the same is probably true

5. For Kallias: Introduction

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but what survives of this speech gives no reason to doubt the title, and a copyist is perhaps more likely to have subsumed hierosulia under the more familiar and broader charge of asebeia—impiety—than vice versa.) Precisely what Kallias is alleged to have done in this case has been the subject of considerable speculation. Almost the only internal indication is the fact that instead of being prosecuted by an opponent, he has been denounced by his own slaves (§3) using the procedure of me¯nusis (§5, cf. below). Dobree (1874: 195) suggested that he had rented out the right to collect the tax on sacred olives and had defaulted on his payments, but there is little to suggest sacred olives apart from the proximity of Lys. 7. Moreover, although metics are known to have rented the right to collect sacred taxes, we should perhaps have expected the use of apographe¯ to recover such a debt.8 A second suggestion is that of Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 283, tentatively followed by Lamb 1930: 111 note b), that Kallias had been employed by the treasurers of Athene and the other gods, such that he was being accused of embezzlement from what was simultaneously both a sacred treasury and also the state treasury of Athens. There is some textual evidence which may support this, but it is inconclusive (see §4n τ δηµοσ), and the theory is weakened by the lack of any positive evidence for the employment of metics (as opposed to citizen ofﬁcials or public slaves) in such a post. The most complicated reconstruction is by Sauppe (Baiter & Sauppe 1839–50.i: 192), who noted the existence of a fragmentary Lysianic speech On behalf of Kallias (7π&ρ Καλλου, frag. sp. LXXX), from which we possess one citation:9 he suggested that this was from the lost portions of the speech, and speculated that Kallias was being accused by his slaves of having agreed to make a higher bid than he now admits in the auction for a lease of sacred property, but it seems unlikely that a formal bid would have gone unrecorded. Moreover, there is no particular reason to identify this fragmentary speech with the extant Lys. 5, given how common is the name Kallias; indeed, it appears in the titles of no fewer than two other fragmentary speeches.10 Hierosulia is often translated as ‘temple-robbery’, which conjures up a picture

of Lys. 24 and perhaps also of Lys. 30. On the other hand, the title of Lys. 16 contains information (the name of the speaker Mantitheos) which is generally assumed to be reliable but cannot be inferred from the speech itself as we now have it—though it possibly could have been inferred if an early version had contained the witness testimony e.g. of Orthoboulos at 16.13. 8 See Langdon (1991: P.26), lines 478–480 and 486–488 (metics defaulting on the rental payments for sacred taxes), and 498–510 (the use of apographe¯ to recover the resulting debt from their citizen guarantor); translation in Hesperia, 1936: 404–405, at lines 133–135 and 141–143, and at lines 153– 165. 9 ο3τοι δ& φα´σκοντε πλεονο µισθ=σεσθαι (µισθ=σασθαι, Sauppe) κα τµηµα καταστσεσθαι (frag. 137 Sauppe = frag. 189 Carey), which ought to mean ‘These men, saying that they would take out (or ‘had taken out’ on Sauppe’s reading) a lease at a higher price, and would arrange time¯ma’ (glossed as ‘security for the transaction’), but Sauppe appears to read it as if it meant ‘saying that he had taken out. . .’. 10 Prosecution speech against Kallias, by endeixis (κατα` Καλλου νδεξεω, frag. sp. LXXVIII) and Prosecution speech against Kallias, for hubris (κατα` Καλλου Hβρεω, frag. sp. LXXIX).

388

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of smash-and-grab raids by criminals of a fairly low status.11 This may indeed have been the most common form of the offence, but if so, it has left no trace in Athenian legal sources, perhaps because those caught under such circumstances were normally executed without trial, or at any rate did not commission the type of professional defence speech which has survived. The two attested examples of hierosulia, on the other hand, imply a rather different picture. Hierokles seems to have been related to the priestess at Brauron, and claimed successfully that it was under her orders that he was carrying away sacred vestments; what Theosebes had done to merit conviction is not known, but it has been suggested that his family similarly had priestly connections.12 These cases do not allow us to draw any positive conclusions about the charges faced by Kallias, but they do suggest that earlier scholars were probably correct to doubt whether this is a simple case of ‘temple-robbery’, even if none of the above suggestions carry conviction. Several scholars have noted that Athenian religious trials often have a political subtext (Todd 1993: 308; Parker 1996a: 202), and that religious trials are particularly common in the generation after the democratic restoration (Gernet & Bizos 1955 [1924].i: 85). Kallias, as a metic, cannot have played a direct political rôle, but there may have been more to this case than meets the eye. One striking feature of this speech is that it was delivered not before the Areiopagos, who held a general competence over religious matters, but before an ordinary law court manned by dikastai (§1). A parallel would be the case of Hierokles (above), since the use of apago¯ge¯ against him would similarly have come before a dikastic court. It is indeed possible that apago¯ge¯ is the procedure being used against Kallias, though graphe¯ hierosulias seems more likely given the fact of the denunciation. At least one ancient author (Xen. Mem. 1.2.52) groups hierosulia together with various other offences mainly of theft which were liable to apago¯ge¯, and Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 283) and Medda (1989–95.i: 186) both observe that the use of a dikastic jury implies that to some extent the ‘theftness’ of the offence takes priority over its religious aspects. But there is another side to the story, for which we need to return to the slaves’ denunciations. The term me¯nusis is used extensively in the Orators to denote ‘denunciation’, and it is clear that in certain contexts it could be initiated by slaves. This was indeed the only context in which slaves could make statements to a court without being tortured, and a slave whose information led to the defendant being convicted would win his freedom, just as a free man would win a monetary reward. What is less clear is the contexts in which slaves were permitted to do this against their master. It has traditionally been assumed that this was allowed in cases of 11 The strongly pejorative connotations of the term are discussed by Parker (1983: 171), with reference to a broad range of non-Athenian as well as Athenian sources. 12 Hierokles’ case is attested at Dein 2. 12 and Dem. 25 hypoth. §§1–2: the latter piece of evidence is late, and earlier scholars had rejected the use of apago¯ge¯ against hierosuloi on the basis of Ant. 5.9–10, but Hansen (1976: 45–46) gives reasons to accept it (see 1976: cat. 30 for his reconstruction of the case). The evidence for Theosebes is Hesperia, 1941: 14–17 (repr. Langdon 1991: P.5), at lines 13–14: priestly connections for the family are suggested by R. G. Osborne (1985a: 5) on the basis of two names beginning ‘Theo-’.

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389

serious offences against the community (treason and theft of public money) or its gods,13 but it has plausibly been argued that the only direct evidence at Athens for slave denunciations is in religious cases (R. G. Osborne 2000: 81–90). If correct, this would imply that such offences are of peculiar seriousness because the gods may otherwise take it out on the whole community, and that to that extent Lys. 5 is a primarily religious case. It would also imply that contrary to the position which is taken by Lysias here, and which is explored in detail in V. J. Hunter’s important study of social control (1994: 70–95), Athenian law encouraged slaves to spy on their masters only in very restricted circumstances. 13 Lipsius (1905–15: 209), Harrison (1968–71.i: 171), MacDowell (1978: 181–183), Todd (1993: 187), V. J. Hunter (1994: 70, etc.). Texts such as Dein. 1.95 are classiﬁed by Lipsius as evidence for the use of the procedure in cases of treason, but it is not speciﬁed here that the putative informer was a slave.

5 On Behalf of Kallias: Defence Speech on a Charge of Hierosulia [1] If Kallias were on trial on anything except a capital charge, gentlemen of the jury, what has also been heard from the other speakers would be sufﬁcient for me. As it is, it seems to me to be shameful not to give Kallias that assistance which is just, as far as I am able, given that he is urging and begging me, that he is a friend of mine and of my father during his lifetime, and that we have had many dealings with each other. [2] Moreover, it was my belief that he behaves as a metic in this polis in such a way that he should much sooner receive some beneﬁt at your hands than be reduced to such great danger on charges like this. As it is, those who are plotting are making life no less dangerous for those who commit no crimes than for those who are responsible for many evils. [3] It is right that you should not regard the statements of slaves as trustworthy, and these men’s as untrustworthy. Bear in mind that nobody, neither a private individual nor an ofﬁcial, has ever brought a charge against Kallias, that while living in this polis he has done you much good, and that he has reached this stage in his life without bearing any reproach; whereas these men have committed many crimes throughout their whole life, and have experienced many evils, and are now making speeches about freedom as if they have been responsible for something good. [4] I am not surprised: they know that if they are shown to be lying, they will suffer nothing worse than their existing situation, whereas if they deceive you successfully, they will be released from their present troubles. Yet

392

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5. On Behalf of Kallias

393

it is necessary to regard neither as trustworthy prosecutors nor as trustworthy witnesses such people as this, who make statements about others for the sake of a large proﬁt; instead, you should regard as much more trustworthy those who place themselves in danger while assisting the community. [5] It seems to me appropriate to view the trial not as the private concern of these men, but as the common concern of all those who are in the polis. For these are not the only people who have slaves, but so does everybody else: they will concentrate on the plight of these men, and will no longer consider how they might become free by having performed services for their masters, but by having made false denunciations about them . . .

Lysias 5. On Behalf of Kallias: Commentary Title:. ἱεροσυλίας (‘hierosulia’). Theft of sacred things: see pp. 387–388 above. §1. περὶ αλλου τινὸς ἢ τοῦ σώµατος (‘on anything except a capital charge’), lit. ‘concerning anything except his body’. Penalties denoted by this phrase are those which affect the person: it is occasionally used in cases of exile (e.g. 9.15n), but normally implies capital punishment (e.g. 1.50n), though Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 193) thinks it denotes enslavement here. τῶν αλλων (‘the other speakers’). See p. 385 above. κελεύοντος καὶ δεοµένου (‘given that he is urging and begging me’). Those who speak in support of litigants at Athens are careful to explain the connection at the outset: ideally a family relationship, however remote (e.g. Lys. 32.1–2). Where the litigant is a metic or recently enfranchised foreigner this will have been difﬁcult, because of the lack of established family networks, and the language of friendship, ideally hereditary friendship, takes its place.1 The topos here is paralleled at e.g. Dem. 36.1 (recently enfranchised citizen), Lys. frag. 286 Pherenikos §1 (metic, close parallels at §4 to Lys. 5), and perhaps Lys. frag. 278 Teisis (non-citizen status of litigant here may be implied by frag. 279 §6). If indeed a metic had to be represented by his prostate¯s (the debate is well summarised in Whitehead 1977: 89–92), it is striking that we have no examples of a speaker claiming this as his relationship. πολλῶν συµβολαίων (‘many dealings’). Sumbolaion in the Orators normally denotes business dealings (often ‘contracts’ as at Dem. 34.3, but also ‘debts’ at Lys. 12.98 and ‘loans’ at Dem. 49.2), but may be used more widely to denote other forms of relationship (as at Dem. 18.210). The term can also be used (LSJ s.v. sumbolaion I) as a synonym for sumbolon—for the rôle of such tokens as evidence of xenia, see Herman (1987: e.g. 62 and 64)—but this use does not seem to be found in the Orators. §2. µετοικεῖν (‘behaves as a metic’). On the vocabulary of metic status, and the implied idea here of a bargain between the metic who behaves well and the city which ought to treat him appropriately, see Whitehead (1977: 57–9). οἱ ἐπιβουλεύοντες (‘those who are plotting’). Athenian prosecutors routinely 1

For the terminology of such friendship (philos, xenos, epite¯deios), see Konstan (1997: esp. 28–37); hereditary friendship with foreigners (xenia) is discussed in more detail by Herman (1987).

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395

allege that defendants have been plotting either against them or against the polis, and defendants as routinely seek to rebut the charge. For the defendant to make such allegations against the prosecutor is an unusual attempt to seize the initiative: it is paralleled at Andok. 1.6 and Lys. 19.3. τοῖς µηδὲν ἀδικοῦσιν (‘for those who commit no crimes’). The task of publicspirited accusers is clearly to make life difﬁcult for those who commit offences against the polis, but defendants who construct themselves as inoffensive thereby construct their opponents as sykophants (in the sense of R. G. Osborne 1990, cf. 1.44n) even without having to use the term. §3. τῶν θεραπόντων λόγους (‘the statements of slaves’). Therapontes, for which see 1.42n. τοὺς δὲ τούτων (‘and these men’s’), sc. statements. For the plural ‘men’, see p. 385 n. 3 above. οὔτ’ ἰδιώτης ἐνεκάλεσεν οὔτε αρχων (‘nobody, neither a private individual nor an ofﬁcial, has ever brought a charge’). Arkho¯n here presumably denotes any ofﬁcial, rather than speciﬁcally one of the Nine Arkhons (it is not clear whether this is a general plea of inoffensiveness, or whether the speaker and his audience knew that Kallias held some position in virtue of which it was right that ofﬁcials should be keeping an eye on him). For the term idio¯te¯s denoting not the passive citizen but the political amateur, see Hansen (1983b: 45–46 = 1989: 13–14), and in more detail Rubinstein (1998). For enkle¯ma, see p. 284 n. 39 above. πολλὰ µὲν ἀγαθά (‘much good’). Presumably an allusion to liturgies, for which see 3.47n. Whereas citizen defendants in the corpus tend either to enumerate liturgies (e.g. Lys. 19.57; 21.11; 25.12) or at least to hint at their number (e.g. Lys. 3.47; 7.31), which is something even Lysias himself does (Lys. 12.20), the allusiveness here may imply either a lack of material or perhaps a feeling that metics are not meant to boast. πεπειραµένοι. For the trans. ‘experienced’ (in this context probably ‘suffered’ rather than ‘accomplished’), see LSJ s.v. peirao¯ B.II.2. οὗτοι . . . περὶ ἐλευθερίας νυνὶ ποιοῦνται τοὺς λόγους (‘these men . . . are now making speeches about freedom’). The use of houtoi (‘these men’) to denote the speaker’s opponents is standard in the Orators. On its own, it could refer to a putative group of citizens who are prosecuting on the basis of the denunciation. Given what follows in §4, however, it probably refers to the slaves themselves (reading peri + genitive as object fought for, LSJ s.v. II.A.1). §4. ψευδόµενοι ἐλεγχθῶσιν (‘shown to be lying’). Elenkho¯ in the Orators can mean ‘to examine’ (Andok. 1.22) or ‘to put on trial’ (Lys. 6.14), but normally carries the negative implications of ‘to convict’ or ‘to refute’,2 especially—as 2

Similarly the noun elenkhos, for which see 4.10n.

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here—in conjunction with the participle of pseudomai (‘to lie’), cf. Lys. 31.16, Isai. 4.1, Dem. 28.1. οὐδὲν µεῖζον τῶν ὑπαρχόντων πείσονται (‘they will suffer nothing worse than their existing situation’). If Kallias is convicted, his slaves will win their freedom in return for their denunciation (hence ‘released from their present troubles’). If he is acquitted, they will apparently remain his (though cf. §5n), which raises the question of how he will treat them. This passage is discussed in a series of articles by Dorjahn (1971), Rockwell (1972), and Dorjahn (1979). I am not convinced by the latter’s attempt to defend himself against Rockwell’s objections by claiming that Kallias is too nice a man to bear grudges, but Dorjahn does rightly draw attention to the potential threat which slave-denunciations can pose to all slave owners. If R. G. Osborne is right to restrict such denunciations to religious cases alone (cf. p. 389 above), that threat would be much reduced, but it is hardly in Lysias’ interests to point this out. οὔτε κατηγόρους οὔτε µάρτυρας πιστούς (‘neither as trustworthy prosecutors nor as trustworthy witnesses’). Both nouns are used by extension, because only a free man could legally fulﬁl either rôle. τῷ δηµοσίῳ βοηθοῦντες (‘while assisting the community’). To de¯mosion (lit. ‘that which is public’) often denotes the treasury, which is the basis of Jebb’s interpretation discussed at p. 387 above. But it can have a broader sense (cf. Aiskhin. 3.58), and I have deliberately translated vaguely so as not to beg the question. §5. τούτων (‘of these men’), which in context here must refer not to the accusers (as at the end of §3), but to Kallias and people like him, whether hypothetical or real co-defendants. οὐ γὰρ τούτοις µόνοις εἰσὶ θεράποντες, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖς αλλοις απασιν (‘these are not the only people who have slaves, but so does everybody else’). It is extremely dangerous to draw demographic conclusions from a remark like this, not least because Lysias is seeking to magnify the argument from social consequences by generalising the threat. For the Jameson/Wood/de Ste Croix debate over the distribution of slave-ownership speciﬁcally in Athenian agriculture, see 7.19n. οἵ (‘they’, lit. ‘who’). Given what follows, the reference must be to the slaves, not (as the word-order might suggest) their owners. ὅ τι ἀγαθὸν εἰργασάµενοι (‘by having performed services’), lit. ‘having done what good thing’. The rhetoric of slavery in our speeches tends to polarise: Athenians as masters are very nice to their slaves, but slaves (who ought to reciprocate by being loyal) nevertheless are the natural enemies of their masters. It is unusual to ﬁnd both halves of the proposition stated together, though cf. Dem. 21.48–50. ψεῦδος . . . µηνύσαντες (‘having made false denunciations’). There is a prima facie conﬂict between Andok. 1.20, which claims that the law punished false

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denunciation with death (the fate of Diokleides at Andok. 1.66), and this speech, where Kallias’ slaves will evidently not be executed if he is acquitted (cf. §4n). Since Athenian law knows no verdict of ‘not proven’, we may doubt whether a distinction was drawn between the dishonest and the mistaken or inconclusive informer. Harrison (1968–71.i: 171 n. 1) notes the imperfect tense at Andok. 1.20 and suggests that the penalty may have become obsolete between the time to which Andokides refers (415 bc) and the time he is speaking some ﬁfteen years later. Alternatively, the use of the imperfect at Andok. 1.20 might denote a temporary regulation in the situation of 415, which would suggest an awareness even in that crisis of the danger of over-encouraging informers.

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Lysias 6 Prosecution against Andokides for Impiety Introduction I. THE BACKGROUND: THE EVENTS OF 415 AND THE TRIAL OF c.400 bc Lys. 6 is the second of three speeches which are grouped together in our manuscripts evidently because of their connection with impiety, even though (as we shall see) the relationship both between Lysias and the speech and between the speech and the trial is by no means secure.1 Unlike any of the other speeches in this volume, it concerns a case for which we have external evidence, relating both to the trial itself and also to the somewhat more distant events which have given rise to it. The trial in question is the unsuccessful prosecution of Andokides in the autumn of probably 400 bc.2 The immediate occasion for this prosecution was Andokides’ participation in the Eleusinian Mysteries of that year. It was alleged that by attending the festival, he was acting in deﬁance of a statutory ban that had been imposed on him some ﬁfteen years previously, in the immediate aftermath of major religious scandal: to understand the trial, therefore, it is necessary to begin in 415 rather than in c.400. Shortly before the departure of the Athenian military expedition to Sicily in the summer of 415—the failure of which two years later marked a turning-point in the Peloponnesian War—there took place two signiﬁcant acts of impiety at

1 For the tendency in our corpus for speeches to be grouped together on a basis of loosely deﬁned legal procedure, see pp. 21–22 above. The authorship of Lys. 6, and the question of whether it was really written for Andokides’ trial, is discussed in the second section of this Introduction. 2 The alternative and less likely date is autumn 399. (To avoid prejudicing the debate on the one hand, or having constantly to repeat ‘probably 400’ or ‘400 or 399’ on the other, I shall for the moment use ‘c.400’.) The choice of date is signiﬁcant because of its implications for the relationship with another famous impiety trial, that of Sokrates in spring 399: see pp. 409–410 below.

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Athens, the Mutilation of the Herms and the Profanation of the Mysteries,3 which between them brought the democracy to a state of emergency greater than on any previous occasion. We are unusually well informed about these events, since in addition to the narrative accounts offered both by Thucydides (6.27–9, 52, 61) and by Plutarch (Alkibiades, 19–23), we have also two versions of the story told on subsequent occasions by Andokides himself,4 together with albeit fragmentary epigraphic evidence for the conﬁscation of property (and thus some at least of the names) of those implicated at the time.5 Making sense of these acts of impiety is extremely difﬁcult: even Thucydides admits at one point in his account that it was impossible to determine the truth between rival versions (Thuc. 6.60.2). Some observations, however, can usefully be made. In particular, it is important to keep the two scandals separate in our minds, not least because, in common with other ancient authors from as early as the 390s (e.g. Lys. 14.41–42), the present speech tends to blame the same people for both (e.g. §51). But in fact the lists of those who were at least held to be implicated in the two affairs overlap only partly,6 the aims of the two offences may have been different, and the two cults are certainly distinct.7 The mysteries in question are the Eleusinian Mysteries, those of Demeter and her daughter Persephone, the two goddesses of Eleusis (§§3–4, 14, 52), whereas a herm (cf. §§11–12) is a stone pillar dedicated to the god Hermes, with the head of the god normally carved at the top, and an erect carved phallus protruding from the front of the stone. The motives of those concerned in each case can only be inferred, but it is worth emphasising that herms were a public phenomenon, found at street corners and in front of private houses, and the mutilation of the majority of the herms in Athens on a single night shortly before the departure of the Sicilian Expedition can only have been a deliberate and public act, and one that—given the numbers of herms involved—was assumed to have been well organised. The Mysteries on the other hand, though an ofﬁcial cult, were carried

3

Recent discussions include Murray (1990, interesting parallels with Medmenham Monks), Parker (1996a: 199–207), Furley (1996), and Todd (2004). 4 Andok. 2 in 409–407, and Andok. 1 at the trial in c.400: see p. 401 n. 8 and n. 9 below. 5 The sales by auction of such property were recorded in the so-called Attic Stelai, following a process of conﬁscation which appears to have lasted several years. (Texts at IG, i3, 421–430, but the most comprehensive discussion is still that of the original editors, Pritchett, Pippin & Amyx 1953–58.i–iii.) The extant fragments generally conﬁrm and occasionally correct the lists of names in our manuscripts of Andok. 1.13 (denounced by Andromakhos over Mysteries), 1.15 (denounced by Teukros over Mysteries), and 1.35 (denounced by Teukros over Herms): the data are discussed by MacDowell (1962: 71–72), and tabulated by Gomme, Andrewes & Dover (1945–81.iv: 276–280). 6 Alkibiades, for instance, is never implicated by contemporary sources in the affair of the Herms, though by the middle of the 4th cent. Dem. 21.147 is already claiming that he was guilty of this. 7 The distinction between the two cults should not however be overplayed, as it is in my view by Furley (1996), who sees the attack on the Herms—plausibly—as an anti-war action designed to undermine the Sicilian Expedition, but argues less convincingly that the Mysteries were a pro-peace cult such that profanation was an act of pro-war propaganda. But profanation in private houses is hardly a public gesture, and there are a few individuals who were implicated in both types of impiety (which on Furley’s hypothesis would be ideological self-contradiction): details in Todd (2004: 91–93).

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out in secret, and those who profaned them by performing the ritual before non-initiates in private houses may well have intended their behaviour to become the subject of scandalised rumour, which might not have become the subject of ofﬁcial concern had the issue of the Herms not led to the offering of rewards and immunity for information about any acts of impiety (Thuc. 6.27.2). The extent of Andokides’ involvement in the events of 415 bc is disputed, but certainly he gained immunity from prosecution by denouncing some of those allegedly responsible for one or both scandals, only to have his position at Athens rendered intolerable by the decree of Isotimides (otherwise unknown, but the decree may indeed have been directed at Andokides alone, cf. §24n), which prohibited those who had admitted impiety from entering public or religious sites. He went into voluntary exile, but made several attempts to return, once under the Four Hundred in 411 bc, and a second time under the restored democracy between 409 and 407.8 Both attempts failed, but he eventually succeeded in returning after the fall of the Thirty, when the democracy was again restored under the terms of the Amnesty of 403/2. He appears to have lived in Athens unchallenged for several years, but was prosecuted by endeixis (summary indictment) in the autumn of c.400, on a charge (as we have seen) of attending that year’s celebration of the Mysteries in deﬁance of the decree of Isotimides.9 Unusually for an Athenian trial, we know not only the result (Andokides’ later career makes clear that he must have been acquitted, since the procedure used against him carried the death penalty) but also the identities of many of those involved on each side. Andokides attacks three of the prosecutors by name— Kephisios, Meletos, and Epikhares (Andok. 1.92–101)—on the basis of their alleged activities before and during the régime of the Thirty Tyrants, and he subsequently names Agyrrhios in a context which implies that he too joined in the prosecution (Andok. 1.133). Only these four can be identiﬁed formally as prosecutors, although Kallias is described at Andok. 1.117–131 as the moving force behind the prosecution. Of these four, or ﬁve including Kallias, we know nothing further about Kephisios and probably Epikhares.10 Meletos may or may not be the

8 Somewhat confusingly, the speech from this ﬁrst attempt at rehabilitation is numbered Andok. 2, On His Return (for the date, see §29n): in it, he focuses on the patriotic services that he has performed while in exile (cf. p. 410 below for his readiness to admit a far greater level of complicity than he could get away with in c.400). 9 The evidence for its being an endeixis is set out by Hansen (1976: 128–132 with n. 2). For the date, see p. 410 below. This was the occasion of Andokides’ second and much more elaborate defence, Andok. 1, On the Mysteries. It owes its title presumably to the fact that whatever Andokides had or had not done in 415, the charge at this trial related to his having attended the current year’s Mysteries. 10 Kephisios—evidently the chief prosecutor, cf. Andok. 1.121—is too common a name (twentyfour individuals in LGPN Attica) to identify with any of his homonyms. Epikhares is even more common (eighty-ﬁve in LGPN Attica), and although he has sometimes been identiﬁed with Epikhares of Lamptrai, member of the Ten (thus Kirchner 1901–3.i: no. 4991), this has rightly been challenged by MacDowell (1962: 133) on the grounds that more would surely have been made of it at Andok. 1.95.

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same as Meletos the prosecutor of Sokrates, a problem to which we shall return at p. 409 below. Agyrrhios and Kallias, however, are both extremely well known. The former is the distinguished politician Agyrrhios of Kollytos, active in the period 405–374.11 The latter is Kallias son of Hipponikos of Alopeke,12 descendant of a very old family which belonged to the genos Ke¯rukes. A genos was a ﬁctive descent group united around a cult, and the Ke¯rukes together with the Eumolpidai were responsible for providing the various priesthoods for the Eleusinian Mysteries: Kallias himself held the post of Dadoukhos.13 Among those speaking for the defence, pride of place goes obviously to Andokides himself, who is ranked among the canonical Ten Orators, though his activity, like that of Aiskhines rather than that of Isaios or Lysias, was as a gifted amateur writing his own political speeches rather than a professional logographer. He too, like his distant relative Kallias, was a descendant of an old aristocratic family,14 and some scholars have indeed argued that like Kallias he too was a member of the genos Ke¯rukes: the evidence is inconclusive, but it is worth bearing in mind, because one possible interpretation is that what we have here is not simply a family quarrel but also a quarrel about rights within a family cult.15 Andokides identiﬁes various supporters who will speak in his defence, three of whom he names (Andok. 1.150). Of these Thrasyllos cannot be identiﬁed, but Kephalos and Anytos are two other well-known politicians under the

11

Agyrrhios: PA 179, discussed by Davies (1971: no. 8157, at pp. 277–280) s.v. his nephew Kallistratos. There are other discussions in MacDowell (1962: 157–8) and Strauss (1986: 161–2), though it is now necessary to add to his career the authorship of the grain law of 374/3 (Stroud 1998 = Rhodes & Osborne 2003, no. 26). The fact that Andokides does not include him in the sequence of character-assassinations at 1.92–101 implies that he was untainted by the events of 404/3, and his appointment as Secretary to the Council in 403/2 suggests that he was one of the democratic counterrevolutionaries. 12 Kallias III, son of Hipponikos II, as classiﬁed and discussed by Davies (1971: no. 7826, at pp. 263–265). See also MacDowell (1962: 10–11). 13 The Hierophante¯s (lit. ‘displayer of sacred things’) had to be a member of the genos Eumolpidai, who also had the right of exe¯ge¯sis (interpretation of sacred law, cf. §10n). The genos Ke¯rukes provided the Dadoukhos (lit. ‘torch-bearer’) and the Ke¯ryx or Hieroke¯ryx (lit. ‘[sacred] herald’). For the posts see Clinton (1974), together with Aleshire (1994, discussed at §54n) on the manner of their appointment. 14 Andokides IV, son of Leogoras II, of Kudathe¯naion, as classiﬁed and discussed by Davies (1971: no. 828, at pp.30–32). See also MacDowell (1962: 1–2, with family trees on pp. 206–207), and Missiou (1992: 15–20). 15 The argument for Andokides’ membership of the genos Ke¯rukes is presented tentatively by MacDowell (1962: 156) and more strongly by Furley (1996: 49–50). Ps.-Plutarch, Life of Andokides, 834c1, appears to claim that Andokides belonged to this genos, but is not an independently trustworthy source. The key evidence is Andok. 1.132, where Andokides claims to have initiated several people into the Mysteries: the verb used is muo¯, which is used epigraphically in several texts reserving to the Eumolpidai and Ke¯rukes the right to perform initiations (IG i3.6.26–27; SEG, 17 [1960], 2.109– 114; and SEG 30 [1980], 61, frag.ab, lines 27–29), but Apollodoros uses it to describe the offer of Lysias (who as a non-citizen was certainly not a member of either genos) to fund the initiation of Metaneira (Dem. 59.21–22).

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restored democracy.16 The latter in particular was noted as one of the leaders of the democratic counter-revolution against the Thirty, and also as one of the prosecutors of Sokrates.

II. THE SPEECH AND ITS RELATIONSHIP TO THE TRIAL The surviving speeches of the Attic Orators very rarely provide us with two sides of the same case. The relationship between Lys. 6 and Andok. 1 is the most problematic example of this phenomenon,17 and the one which raises the most questions about the performance context of Athenian forensic speeches, and the relationship between oral speech and ‘published’ version. All other questions about the speech are dependent on the answer to these preliminary questions. Like any text, the speech has value as historical evidence, but what it is evidence for depends on when it was written and who it was aimed at.18 Moreover, the relationship between oral version and written text is an important question in its own right: if the extent of revision between trial and ‘publication’ can be determined, Lys. 6 may provide a test case for the rest of the corpus of Lysias, for which we have no such evidence. In the case of Lys. 6, there are three main hypotheses: ﬁrst, that it is a real speech written either by Lysias or by somebody else to be delivered at the trial; second, that it is a contemporary pamphlet, probably written in the aftermath of Andokides’ acquittal as a form of protest against that result; and third, that it is a later rhetorical exercise, written perhaps in the Hellenistic period.19 These 16 Kephalos of Kollytos (PA 8277), brieﬂy discussed by MacDowell (1962: 143–144); Anytos son of Anthemion, probably of Euonymon (Davies 1971: no. 1324). Peter Rhodes informs me that David Lewis, in an unpublished lecture, proposed emending Thrasyllos here into Thrasyboulos (of Steiria, PA 7310), the leader of the democratic counter-revolutionaries at Phyle in 404/3. 17 The only certain examples of two speeches from the same trial are in each case the work of Demosthenes and Aiskhines, in the Embassy trial of 343 (Dem. 19 vs. Aiskhin. 2), and in the Crown trial of 330 (Aiskhin. 3 vs. Dem. 18). Speeches from opposing sides at different stages in the same sequence of trials are also found: Dem. 45 (possibly written by Apollodoros himself) is a charge of false testimony attempting to undermine the victory won by his opponent Phormion in Dem. 36, while Isai. 11 and Dem. 43 deal with inheritance litigation over the same estate but in successive generations. 18 For reasons discussed at p. 31 above, in my view the question of authorship is not in itself historically very important (though it may of course indirectly make more urgent the question of date), and I have not therefore sought to distinguish authorship in setting out the various hypotheses in the following paragraph. However, I do not agree with Furley (1996: 8) that the value of a contemporary pamphlet can simply be equated for historical purposes with that of a speech. For one thing, a speech—at least as originally composed—is written in ignorance of the result of the trial. Moreover, although both speech and contemporary pamphlet are evidence for contemporary knowledge and perceptions, the different audience provides different checks on what could be said. 19 This is to ignore some marginal theories, e.g. that it is an epitome of a speech by Lysias himself (Zutt, 1891). Among proponents of the rival hypotheses are: (i) real speech (but not by Lysias), Blass (1887 [1868]: 570, though cf. p. 408 below for post-trial revision), Begodt (1914), Jebb (1893

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hypotheses cannot entirely be separated, because a ‘published’ speech is in some sense a performance in its own right, aimed at a different audience from at the trial, and to that extent it tends towards being a pamphlet. But it is important to keep them at least hypothetically separate, and to avoid for instance the assumption that if it is not a late rhetorical exercise it must therefore be a real speech,20 or that if it is not by Lysias it cannot therefore have been delivered at a trial.21 The main arguments to be considered are as follows:22 matters of fact, and the question of whether the speech displays knowledge that would have been unavailable to a later author, or contrariwise makes factual errors that a contemporary would not have made; questions of forensic tactics, in particular the poor organisation of the speech and the attack on Kephisios at §42; and the more general question of compatibility with Andok. 1. The status of Lys. 6 as a speech was ﬁrst given serious consideration by Sluiter (1834), who believed that it could not be the work of a knowledgeable contemporary, on the basis of what he saw as major factual errors. The most important of these concerns the phrase ‘his ancestral herm’ at §§11–12: Sluiter (1834: 113–115) suggested that this is a reference to the so-called ‘herm of Andokides’, which according to Aiskhin. 1.125 was the name popularly given to a dedication by the tribe Aigeis, and argued that it was a misinterpretation which could not have made by a contemporary. Another awkwardness was noted by Schneider (1901: 365): if the phrase ‘π τ^ µ^ προφα´σει’ at §19 means ‘at my instigation’, then we would most naturally infer that the assumed speaker is the chief prosecutor Kephisios, but Kephisios can hardly be delivering the speech because he is named in the third person at §42. Both these points have some weight, but in each case other interpretations are possible (see §11n and §19n, though the latter may depend on a textual emendation). One other alleged factual error, however, is now widely thought to rest on a misidentiﬁcation: Sluiter (1834: 114) and Hölscher (1837: 62) both saw a conﬂict between the claim at §46 that Andokides had never undertaken military service and the account in Thuc. 1.51.4 of a naval expedition under the command of Andokides son of Leogoras as General in 433, but subsequently discovered epigraphic evidence suggests that this may well be an error on Thucydides’ part,23 and is anyway [1876].i: 281–282), Lämmli (1938: 17–57), Albini (1955: 340–341), MacDowell (1962: 14 with n. 4), Fernández-Galiano (1953: 114–115), Marr (1971: 334 n. 1), Medda (1989–95.i: 195); (ii) contemporary pamphlet, Bruns (1896: 479–480), Weber (1900), Schneider (1901, one of several scholars to identify it with a speech Against Andokides attributed by the Souda s.v. Theodoros [Th. 149 Adler] to Lysias’ contemporary Theodoros of Byzantium), Lamb (1930: 112), Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 91–92); (iii) later rhetorical exercise, Sluiter (1834, author contemporary with Demetrios of Phaleron), Francken (1865). There is a fuller catalogue of references to earlier work in Darkow (1917: 28–34). 20

Blass (1887 [1868]: 567–568) comes close to falling into this trap. Thus Lamb (1930: 112). Francken (1865: 43) similarly conﬂates author with speaker. 22 What follows is not a comprehensive list of arguments which have been put forward. I ignore those which have been adequately refuted, except where the refutation is itself an argument in rebuttal (as with Andokides’ age). 23 Meiggs & Lewis, no. 61, lines 20–21, lists the Generals in command of this expedition, including one Drakontides, who may well be Drakontides son of Leogoras of Thora (PA no.4551), and it is 21

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probably a reference not to the Orator but to his grandfather, Andokides III son of Leogoras I.24 Various counter-examples of what might be seen as detailed and accurate contemporary knowledge are listed by Schneider (1901: 361–362) and Begodt (1914: 21–26). Of these, Diagoras of Melos (§17) is to my mind inconclusive, being so well known that a later writer might easily have thought of mentioning him.25 Batrakhos, on the other hand, though attested elsewhere as an informer (refs. at §45n), is nevertheless not nearly such a notorious ﬁgure, and is therefore correspondingly less likely to have appeared in a text written by a noncontemporary. A parallel argument applies to the account of Andokides’ visits to Cyprus (§§26–28). That he had visited Cyprus and had links there is attested by Andokides himself (Andok. 1.4, 132), but he gives no details of such a visit, and a later rhetorician would in my view have been more likely simply to have invented references to Euagoras of Salamis (as at §28) rather than also to the king of lesser-known Kition (§26). Similarly, it would require a rather perceptive later rhetorician to imitate the use of vague terminology to avoid referring to Aigospotamoi, in a way that is characteristic of orators in the generation after the Peloponnesian War (see §46n). On the question of forensic tactics, it must be admitted that if Lys. 6 is a genuine law-court speech, it is not a particularly good one: various weaknesses are discussed in the Commentary, including e.g. far-fetched hypothesis (§4n), banality of cadence (§20n, §27n), and weakness of structure (§35n). I am less convinced, however, by those who argue that the tone is too strident (e.g. Jebb 1893 [1876].i: 280, cited at §21n), because this type of argument may rely on anachronistic assumptions about ancient tastes. What is more, the fact that a speech is bad is not in itself evidence that it was not written to be delivered, and this applies even to examples of tactical incompetence like the unnecessary admission that Arkhippos had admitted the force of Andokides’ case by agreeing to buy him off (§12). More striking, however, is the disparaging reference to Kephisios (§42). Explicitly to criticise the person who is leading your prosecution

conjectured that Thucydides has confused two unrelated men with similar names and the same patronymic: thus Hornblower (1991–.i: 95). Whether this is an error by Thucydides (who might have been referring to the Orator’s grandfather, Andokides III son of Leogoras I) or a corruption in his text, the error is evidently early, since it evidently forms the basis of the mistaken statement by Ps.-Plutarch, Life of Andokides, 835a9–10, that he was born in 468/7 (Pitcher 2005: 218). This if anything may be an argument against a late rhetorician, since a writer familiar with Ps.-Plutarch or reading Thucydides in the same way would not have made the claim at §46. 24 A further example of what may be either misrepresentation or error in the interpretation of homicide law is discussed at §14n, but it is not to my mind of such a type that it could not have been made by a contemporary. 25 He will have been familiar both to readers of Aristophanic comedy (Birds, 1073, and cf. Clouds, 829, with extensive scholia), and also to writers of Byzantine lexica (the Souda has a 116-word entry s.v. Diagoras the Melian).

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looks like a tactical error of the ﬁrst order,26 and for this to be done at a trial would imply an extraordinary degree of tactical incompetence. Moreover, if such an attack was delivered by one of Kephisios’ co-prosecutors, it would be surprising for Andokides not to make fun of it in the ‘published’ version of his speech. To that extent, it looks as if §42 is written in response to the criticisms of Kephisios at Andok. 1.92–93. We move ﬁnally to the broader question of compatibility between Lys. 6 and Andok. 1. Here the discrepancies are clear, but it is their interpretation that is disputed. Most notably, Lys. 6 makes no reference to Andokides’ story about the placing of the suppliant’s branch on the altar, which for some reason was deemed to be an act of impiety during the Mysteries,27 and which seems to have been one of the things he was charged with (Andok. 1.110–116). Nor does Lys. 6 claim that Andokides denounced his father (Andok. 1.19), sticking instead to the more general allegation that he had denounced his relatives and friends (§23). Several scholars have tried to explain these differences by noting that our manuscript of Lys. 6 contains two major lacunas, and Blass (1887 [1868]: 567) suggests that these might have contained an account of the suppliant’s branch. For what it is worth, indeed, the Byzantine scholar Tzetzes claims that ‘the orator Lysias’ asserted that Andokides had denounced his father,28 but Tzetzes is a careless writer, and more convincing is the point made by Dover (1968: 169 with n. 23), that §23 concerns the Herms whereas Andok. 1.19 is about the Mysteries. It should be noted that Lys. 6 purports to be only one of the supporting prosecution speeches, and we should not therefore expect it necessarily to argue the main charges. Its function is much more to expand on their religious signiﬁcance. Indeed, too close a resemblance to Andok. 1 would be perhaps more suspicious than the reverse, and Begodt (1914: 32–34) lists a series of points where our speech presents detailed allegations which Andokides passes over in silence, including the story of Andokides’ imprisonment at §§21–24 (probably exaggerated if not invented, cf. §21n, §23n) and the curse by the priests (§51).29 But there are also a number of coincidences between Lys. 6 and Andok. 1, and these have been subjected to close scrutiny by Lämmli (1938: 17–57), in an attempt to determine which text is responding to which. Lämmli’s own conclusion is that several passages in Andok. 1 (e.g. 1.13–14, 29–33, and 137–139), are post-trial additions, 26 Lene Rubinstein has suggested to me that this could be read as a move by a team of coprosecutors to suggest that whatever their political differences they are all united in opposition to Andokides, but there are surely less damaging ways of nuancing one’s relationship with a temporary political ally. 27 For the use of a branch as part of the ritual of supplication, and for regulations restricting those permitted to supplicate, see Naiden (2006: 36, 56, 174–175 [use of branch], and 178–179 [restrictions]). 28 John Tzetzes, Khiliades, On Andokides, 49 = 6.367–375 (ed. Leone): there is a brief discussion (with text) in MacDowell (1962: 173). The remaining testimonia are all lexicographical (rhoptron at §1n and kataple¯x at §50n both seem to have attracted interest as rare words, and pharmakos at §53n for its mythological and ritual signiﬁcance). 29 Similarly, Andokides does not in the event use the argument about future informers which the speaker forecasts at §43 (Marr 1971: 334 n. 1).

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made in response to Lys. 6, which is therefore in his view a genuine speech made at the trial. Some of his arguments are perhaps over-conﬁdent,30 but the most interesting of his parallels concerns Andok. 1.137–139. Here Andokides’ rebuttal of the argument about seafaring is wonderfully dismissive, and it is hard to imagine the argument as presented in Lys. 6.19 being made up in response. Perhaps the most interesting of the mismatches between Lys. 6 and Andok. 1, and one which has received little attention from scholars,31 concerns the legal basis of Andokides’ plea that even if he had been liable (which he denies) under the decree of Isotimides, this liability would have lapsed by 403/2 (Andok. 1.71–91). We might have expected Andokides in this context to focus on the Amnesty of 403/2, but in fact he says very little about this,32 emphasising instead a general process of legal reform, the signiﬁcance of which he is certainly exaggerating.33 By contrast, Lys. 6.38 concentrates instead on the Amnesty, but refers to it in very odd terms. In particular (to pre-empt the conclusions of the discussion at §38n, and cf. also §13n) this passage seems to me to let slip something which the Orators are generally keen to avoid admitting, that the Amnesty was not simply an agreement between two groups of Athenians, but had a Spartan dimension. Two points deserve notice here: ﬁrst, that Lys. 6 refers to the Amnesty in a way that is realistic but which challenges what became an Athenian myth, and which in my view is therefore less likely to have been said by a later writer; and second, that it expects Andokides to base his defence on the Amnesty itself, which he does not in fact do. Putting all these arguments together is not easy. My own conclusion is that the one hypothesis which can be ﬁrmly rejected is that of the late rhetorician, because it creates vastly more problems than it resolves.34 Neither of the other hypotheses is unproblematic. On balance, however, there seem to me to be at least some arguments for the priority of this speech over Andok. 1 which are hard to explain away,35 and which tend to suggest that what we have is in origins and in essence a genuine speech delivered at the trial. On the other hand, I am troubled by the 30 He tends to rely on assumptions about what went on at the anakrisis (pre-trial hearing) that are not universally shared: cf. e.g. Dorjahn (1935) 31 The oddity of Lys. 6.38 has been discussed by Schneider (1901: 363), but I am not convinced by his suggestion that it might not refer to the Amnesty (see further §38n). Other scholars to discuss the relationship between Lys. 6.38 and Andok. 1.71–91 have done little more than note the discrepancies (Sluiter 1834: 113, with reactions from Roegholt 1893: 6 and Begodt 1914: 14). 32 For the Amnesty, see pp. 1–2 and pp. 16–17 above. My own view is that Andokides’ status vis-à-vis the Amnesty may well have been unclear precisely because his was such an exceptional case: it was at least arguable that because the effect of the decree of Isotimides was to make it illegal for him to enter sanctuaries on any future occasion, this would not have been encompassed within the terms of an Amnesty that was designed to provide protection against prosecution for illegal acts committed prior to 403/2. Hence the fact that formally he was being charged with entering sanctuaries in c.400, not with whatever impiety he may allegedly have committed in 415. 33 Andokides’ rhetorical strategy here is discussed in Todd (1996: 126–127). 34 Most notably the detail at §26 (Kition) and §45 (Batrakhos), the vagueness at §46 (Aigospotamoi), and the Spartan dimension at §38. 35 Above all the seafaring at §19 and the Amnesty at §38.

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attack on Kephisios (§42), and above all by Andokides’ failure to respond to it, and am therefore inclined to revive the theory of Blass (1887: 570) that §42 may represent post-trial revision36—an attempt perhaps by its author as subordinate prosecutor in a failed prosecution to justify his own part in the trial by claiming ‘we was robbed’ by the taint attaching to the prosecutor in chief. Such revision, incidentally, might help account for the length of this speech, which is a problem that has not received attention from scholars. The speech as we have it is 2,744 words long, but several pages have dropped out of the Palatinus manuscript since it was written: one folio between what in modern editions is §49 and §50, in addition to the two folios between Lys. 5 and Lys. 6 which have been discussed elsewhere. The manuscript at this point contains some 400–575 words per folio (both sides), so the total length of the speech before the manuscript suffered damage will have been in the range of 3,240–3,980 words.37 This would make it at least as long as Lys. 19 (3,260 words), and exceeded among forensic speeches in the corpus only by Lys. 12 and Lys. 13 (5,052 and 5,074 words respectively); no other forensic speech in the corpus exceeds 2,500 words. Admittedly this is nothing like as long as Andok. 1 (10,327 words), but Lys. 6 is not the speech of the main prosecutor, and it is tempting to suggest that the speech has been bulked out with a few post-trial additions.38

III. READING THE SPEECH The hypothesis that Lys. 6 is in some sense a genuine forensic speech raises the question of who the speaker was, and here I agree with MacDowell (1962: 14 n. 4) that although any of the three subordinate prosecutors remains possible, nevertheless the most attractive suggestion is that of Begodt (1914: 39–51), who 36 For post-trial revision of Athenian forensic speeches, see the analysis of Dem. 19 vs. Aiskhin. 2 and Aiskhin. 3 vs. Dem. 18 in Dover (1968: 168–9). (The treatment of revision by Worthington 1991 focuses on ring-composition, which to my mind is not central to our understanding of this question.) The possibility of such revision would of course have implications throughout the speech and throughout the corpus. 37 The lacuna at §§49–50 takes Lys. 6 up to c.3,140–c.3,320 words (2,744 plus one folio of 400–575 words between 40v and 41r), but what is missing at the start of the speech will have been at least another 100 words, and possibly (allowing a minimum of c.750 words for Lys. 5 and a maximum of c.1,120 words for the missing folios between 35v and 36r) as much as 660, making the total of c.3,240–c.3,980 reported above: for details of the word-count per page, of the missing folios between Lys. 5 and Lys. 6, and of the likely scale of the proem to Lys. 6, see p. 386 above. Several other lacunas are noted in the margin of the Palatinus manuscript, presumably because Theodoros the scribe found his exemplar particularly hard to read at this point, but none of these seem to have been substantial (see §9n, §48n, and §49n, and more generally Carey 2007: p. xvi with n. 36). 38 No others seem obvious apart from §42, but actual or expected ‘publication’ of Andok. 1 might have led to some revisions even if the speaker had not felt the need to respond to every one of Andokides’ points (I would be happy with the hypothesis that the speaker retained his existing argument about seafaring in spite of Andokides’ refutation, though I cannot see it being made up as a response).

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argued that what we have here is the speech of Meletos. If so, it would be interesting to know whether this Meletos is to be identiﬁed with Meletos the prosecutor of Sokrates. The identiﬁcation is rejected by both Begodt (1914: 43–51) and MacDowell (1962: 208–210), but Dover (1968: 78–80 with n. 30) has shown that the latter’s most powerful argument against identiﬁcation is less strong than might appear,39 and that there are several attractive reasons for accepting it. One feature to which Dover (1968: 78–79) attaches considerable weight is that Sokrates’ Meletos is described by Plato (Apology, 23e) as speaking ‘on behalf of the poets’, and Dover and others have noted the prevalence of unusual and poetic vocabulary and imagery in Lys. 6.40 Dover also focuses on Plato’s representation of Meletos as a champion of traditional religious ideals, and notes the use in Lys. 6 of what he describes as ‘the most primitive religious fears, prejudices, and beliefs’ (Dover 1968: 80).41 If this identiﬁcation is accepted, then it focuses attention both on the parallels and also on the differences between the trials of Sokrates and of Andokides, and consideration of these questions may illuminate a reading of the present trial and the present speech. There are for instance close similarities in the legal issue underlying both trials. The Amnesty of 403/2 had banned mne¯sikakein (‘to remember wrongs’, Ath.Pol. 39.6), or in other words the use of actions before the democratic restoration as the basis of a prosecution. In both these trials, however, the prosecution have found a continuing action in the present which draws attention to the defendant’s behaviour before the restoration—teaching in Sokrates’ case (which recalls the activities of his former pupils Alkibiades and Kritias, the leader of the extremist wing of the Thirty), and entering shrines in the case of Andokides (which recalls his part in the scandals of 415)—thereby breaking the Amnesty in spirit but not in letter. Also signiﬁcant are the dates of the two trials, which take place within a short space of time, some three years after the democratic restoration. This may at ﬁrst sight appear odd, because the trial of Sokrates in particular might make more sense in the immediate aftermath of the restoration, and three years is a long time to wait for a witch-hunt.42 What is uncertain is the sequence of events. The trial of

39 Based on Meletos’ (Andok. 1.94) and Sokrates’ (Plato, Apology, 32c) rôles in the arrest of Leon of Salamis, together with Plato, Euthyphro, 2b: as Dover points out, the Apology passage does not imply that Sokrates had had any dealings with the other four men summoned by the Thirty to form part of the arrest-party, whereas the Euthyphro passage does not say that he did not know him in 399, but that he did not know much about him. Identiﬁcation is tentatively accepted by Marr (1971: 334 n. 1) and by Blumenthal (1973: 170). 40 e.g. algistos (§1, which LSJ s.v. describes as ‘common in tragedy’), alo¯menos (§30), and the shipwreck metaphor at §49: for other examples, see Blass (1887 [1868]: 569), Schneider (1901: 356), and Dover (1968: 80–82). 41 For the speaker’s link with the genos Eumolpidai, see §54n. 42 Personal reasons may have played a rôle in explaining why Andokides’ case was delayed until c.400, at least if he is telling the truth about his quarrels with Kallias (1.117–131) and Agyrrhios (1.132–136), but this sort of explanation cannot so easily be applied to Sokrates’ trial. Another possible interpretation, which I have put forward elsewhere (Todd 1985: 176–200), is that changing

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Sokrates is ﬁrmly dated to the spring of 399 (Diog.Laert. 2.44), but there are two possible dates for that of Andokides, either some six months before or some six months later. It must have occurred in the autumn, because it took place shortly after the Mysteries were celebrated in Boedromion (roughly September), but we cannot be certain of the year: the traditionally accepted date was 399, but 400 has been suggested by MacDowell (1962: 204–205), whose arguments are powerful if not conclusive.43 If the traditional view is retained, then the successful prosecution of Sokrates may be seen as having sparked off another impiety trial six months later. If however MacDowell is correct, then the prosecution of Sokrates occurred despite the failure of the charge against Andokides.44 This is at ﬁrst sight paradoxical, and deserves to be considered further. One possible inference would be that the activity of Sokrates as teacher could be seen by an Athenian court in 399 as more dangerous than the revival of a scandal which had involved gross physical impiety.45 This may have been because the most obvious sign of Sokrates’ activity—in the shape of the curriculum vitae of his former pupils—was more recent. Indeed, the passage of time may also be part of the reason why Andokides won his case in c.400 after losing in 409–407: at any rate, it is striking that in the ‘published’ versions of his speeches, he admits far less culpability in the later version than he had been prepared to do in the earlier one (cf. e.g. Andok. 2.6–7). But there may be another explanation of the differing fates of Andokides and Sokrates, in terms of shifts in political alliances. The interesting ﬁgure here is not Meletos but Anytos. If the identiﬁcation of Meletos is accepted, then he will have been part of the prosecution in both trials. Anytos, on the other hand, defended Andokides but prosecuted Sokrates, which perceptions of the likelihood of Spartan intervention (to defend a settlement originally negotiated by the Spartan King Pausanias) may help to explain why cases which appear to challenge the Amnesty of 403/2 seem to cluster together at certain dates (e.g. those of Nikomakhos and Agoratos, the former certainly and the latter probably in 399, together with those of Andokides and perhaps also of Sokrates). 43

The strongest part of MacDowell’s case in my view is his negative argument, that there is no reason why Andokides should not have returned to Athens in the immediate aftermath of the Amnesty in 403/2 (there is a hint at Andok. 1.137 that his voyage was undertaken dangerously late in the year), so the complaint at Andok. 1.132 that his opponents took no action against him for three years brings us to autumn 400. Less conclusive are his positive arguments, which are based partly on reconstructing a possible chronology for the projected increase in the two-per-cent customs duties at Andok. 1.133–134, and partly—and to my mind more persuasively—on the hypothesis that Ps.-Plutarch’s claim (Life of Andokides, 835a8–9) that he ﬂourished at the same time as Sokrates reﬂects a belief that the trials of the two men took place in the same arkhon-year, which would be 400/399. 44 There is some discussion of this point in Blumenthal (1973: 175–176). A date in autumn 400 would also bring the trial closer to the forcible reincorporation of oligarchic Eleusis with democratic Athens in 401/0: this subtext is discussed at §45n. 45 Despite the wealth of evidence, I do not believe we—any more than Thucydides—can discover what Andokides did or did not do in 415. The argument of MacDowell (that he was more heavily involved in profaning the Mysteries than in mutilating the Herms, 1962: 167–176) is brilliant, but has won few converts (refs. in Todd 2004: 89–90 with n. 16). For my present purpose, it is sufﬁcient that the present speaker is happy to conﬂate both scandals together.

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implies a shift from one side to the other of a legally similar case. His reasons cannot be determined, but his inﬂuence should not be underestimated, because he was a major political ﬁgure whose support for Andokides lent democratic credibility to his defence. The two trials would therefore serve to illustrate both the shifting kaleidoscope of Athenian political alliances, and also the political subtext that is common in impiety trials at Athens.

6 Prosecution against Andokides for Impiety [1] . . . he tied his horse to the door-knob of the temple, as if making a gift of it, but on the following night he stole it away. The man who did this perished by the most terrible death, hunger. For even though many good things were laid on his table, there seemed to be a totally disgusting smell coming from the wheat-bread and from the barley-cake, and he was unable to eat. Many of us have heard the Hierophante¯s telling this story. [2] So I think it is fair now that I should recall against this man what was said at the time; and that not only should this man’s friends be destroyed by him and by his words, but also that he in his turn should be destroyed by somebody else. [3] It is impossible for you on your part, as you cast your votes, to show either pity or favour to Andokides, because you know how actively these two goddesses punish wrongdoers; so one must expect, being human, that everything

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will happen to oneself which will happen to someone else as well. [4] Imagine that today, on account of yourselves, Andokides departs unscathed from this trial, and goes to draw lots as one of the Nine Arkhons, and is chosen as Basileus: will he do anything else but conduct sacriﬁces and offer prayers according to ancestral custom, partly at the Eleusinion here, and partly at the sanctuary at Eleusis? and take charge of the festival of the Mysteries, responsible for ensuring that nobody commits a crime or acts impiously towards the sacred rites? [5] What attitude do you think the initiates who come here will have, when they see the sort of person the Basileus is, and when they remember all the impious actions committed by him? And the rest of the Greeks, who come because of this ceremony, wishing either to sacriﬁce at this festival or to attend it as theo¯roi? [6] Because of past impieties, Andokides is hardly unknown either to those abroad or to people who live here. For it is necessarily the case that on the basis of exceptional deeds, either good or evil, the people who have committed them become well known. In addition, he has annoyed a great many poleis during his travels: Sicily, Italy, the Peloponnese, Thessaly, the Hellespont, Ionia, Cyprus. He has been a ﬂatterer to many kings, with whom he may have had dealings, except Dionysios of Syracuse. [7] This man was either the luckiest of all of them, or else was very different in character from the rest: alone of those who had dealings with Andokides, he was not deceived by a man of this type, who

416

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has the following special skill—that he does no harm to his enemies, but does whatever harm he can to his friends. So, by Zeus, it is not easy for you, if you show any unjust partiality towards him, to escape the attention of the Greeks. [8] It is now necessary for you to make a decision about him. For you know full well, men of Athens, that it is impossible for you to retain your ancestral laws and to retain Andokides. Instead, out of two alternatives, either you must wipe out the laws, or you must get rid of the man. [9] He has reached such a level of audacity that he even makes speeches about the law, arguing that the existing law which refers to him has been annulled, and that it is already permissible for him to enter the agora and the sacred places . . . [short lacuna, cf. Commentary] . . . even today in the council-chamber of the Athenians. [10] And yet people say that Perikles once advised you about those who committed impiety: that you should apply not only the written laws in their case, but also the unwritten ones according to which the Eumolpidai conduct their exegesis—laws which nobody has ever had the authority to abolish, or has dared to speak against, and people do not even know the one who established them—for he believed that they would in this way pay the penalty not simply to humans but to the gods. [11] Andokides has showed such disregard for the gods, and for those who have the task of exacting redress on their behalf, that before he had been back in the polis for ten days, he issued a summons for impiety before the Basileus and obtained a hearing—even though he himself was Andokides, and had done the things towards the gods that this man had done—and (so that you

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can focus your attention more carefully), he claimed that Arkhippos was committing impiety towards his own ancestral herm. [12] Arkhippos defended himself, claiming that the herm was safe and intact, and had not in any way suffered the same fate as the other herms. Nevertheless, in order not to be troubled by this man (who is that sort of person), he paid some money and was released. But if this man thinks it is fair to punish somebody else for impiety, then it is a legitimate and reverent action for other people to do the same to him. [13] He will argue that it is a terrible thing if the informer is to suffer the extreme penalty, whereas those who were denounced share in the same things with you and have full citizen rights. And yet he will not be delivering a defence-speech on his own behalf, but will in fact be accusing other people. In the case of the others, those who gave instructions to receive them back are wrongdoers, and are responsible for the same impiety. But if you, who have sovereign power, acquit him, you yourselves will be the ones who undermine the vengeance of the gods, whereas these people will no longer be responsible. Do not choose to bring this responsibility on yourselves, when it is possible to rid yourselves of it by punishing the criminal. [14] In addition, those men denied that the Mysteries were profaned, whereas this man admitted doing so. And yet even in the Areiopagos, which is the court that is most sacred and most even-handed, a person who admits his crime is executed, whereas if he denies it he is put on trial, and many people were found not to be doing wrong in any respect. So it is not appropriate to take a similar attitude towards

420

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those who deny and those who confess. [15] What seems to me astonishing is that if somebody wounds a man physically, in his head, his face, his hands, or his feet, then in accordance with the laws of the Areiopagos he will be exiled from the city of the person on whom the crime was committed, and if he returns there, he will be executed after endeixis. But if somebody commits the same criminal actions towards the statues of the gods, will you not even prevent him from entering their sanctuaries or punish him if he does? It is both legitimate and commendable to pay attention to them, at whose hands in future you may experience either good or evil. [16] They say that many of the Greeks exclude people from their own temples because of impious actions committed at Athens; but you, who are yourselves the people against whom the offence has been committed, are paying less attention to what is lawful among you than other people do to your laws. [17] This man is considerably more impious than Diagoras the Melian: for that man committed impiety verbally against holy things and festivals that were foreign to him, but this man has done so actively against those of his own polis. You should be angry, men of Athens, at citizens who commit offences, more than at foreigners who do this against holy things. The latter is a remote crime, as it were, and the former is one that is close to home. [18] You should not set free those criminals that you get your hands on, while seeking to capture those who are in exile, proclaiming by herald that you will give a talent of silver to the person who arrests or kills them. Otherwise, it will seem to the Greeks that you are more keen to put on a display than to take redress. [19] In addition, he has made it clear to the Greeks that he does not acknowledge the gods, for he

422

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became involved in ship-owning and travelled by sea—not because he was afraid of what had been done, but because he was shameless. But god brought him back, so that he could arrive at the scene of his crimes and pay the penalty at my instigation. [20] I predict that he will indeed pay the penalty, and that would in no way surprise me. For god does not punish instantaneously—that sort of justice is characteristic of humans— as I am able to conclude by drawing evidence from many sources: I see other people who have committed impiety and have paid the penalty much later, and their children doing so for the crimes of their ancestors. In the meantime god sends much fear and danger against the criminals, so that many of them are keen to die prematurely and be rid of their sufferings. In the end, god imposes an end on their life, after ruining it in this way. [21] Examine the life of Andokides himself, from the moment he committed his impiety, and see if any other has been similar. For after Andokides committed his crime, and after being dragged into court intentionally, he locked himself up, by proposing imprisonment as a penalty if he failed to hand over his slave. [22] He knew full well that he would not be able to hand over someone who had been killed because of this man and of this man’s crimes, so that he might not become an informer. And yet how could it be the case that one of the gods had not destroyed the mind of this man, who thought it was simpler to propose imprisonment rather than money, when his hopes were the same in either case. [23] So

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as a result of this proposal he was imprisoned for nearly a year; and while in prison, he laid a denunciation against his own relatives and friends, because he had been granted immunity if he were found to be telling the truth. What sort of a character do you think he has, given that he behaved in the most terrible and shameful way by denouncing his own friends, and his own hope of rescue was very unclear? [24] Later on, after he had killed the people that he himself said he most valued, he was seen to be making a truthful denunciation, and was set free—and you voted speciﬁcally that he should be excluded from the agora and from the sanctuaries, so that even if he were mistreated by his enemies he would not be able to exact a penalty. [25] Nobody else has ever suffered atimia on a charge like this, ever since Athens has been worthy of eternal memory. That is perfectly reasonable, because nor has anybody ever committed actions like this. Should we attribute responsibility for this to the gods, or to chance? [26] After this, he sailed off to the court of the king of Kition, was imprisoned after being caught by him in an act of treason, and had to fear not simply death, but also torture on a daily basis, because he expected to have the bits at the end of his body cut off while he was still alive. [27] After running away from this danger, he sailed back to his own polis at the time of the Four Hundred: for god had granted him such forgetfulness that he chose to arrive among the very people he had wronged. On arrival, he was imprisoned and maltreated, but instead of being executed he was released. [28] From there he sailed to the court of Euagoras, who was king of Cyprus, and was imprisoned after committing a crime. He ran away from this man as well—ﬂeeing from the gods here, ﬂeeing from his own polis, ﬂeeing to whatever

426

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427

places he might ﬁrst reach. And yet what pleasure was there in life—to suffer pain on many occasions, and never to have any rest from it? [29] After sailing back from there to here during the democracy, he gave money to the Prytaneis, so that they would introduce him here, but you expelled him from the polis, thus making secure for the gods the laws which you had voted. [30] This is a man that neither de¯mos nor oligarchy nor tyrant nor polis was willing to receive, right down to the end. For the whole time since he committed his impiety, he has continued wandering, always trusting more in those who do not know him rather than in those who do, because of the way that he has committed crimes against the people he does know. Now ﬁnally he has arrived at the polis, and has suffered endeixis twice in the same .1 [31] He has his body always in chains, and his property is becoming diminished as a result of his perils. But when somebody divides up his own livelihood among enemies and sykophants, this is to live a life that is not worth living. God realised this, and gave it to him, not as a way of preserving him, but as punishment for past impieties. [32] Now ﬁnally he has handed himself over to you to do what you like with him: not that he trusts in not being guilty, but he is driven by some god-given compulsion. It is not necessary, by Zeus, for young or old to lose faith in the gods when you see Andokides being saved from perils and know that he has committed unholy deeds:

1

See Commentary.

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bear in mind that half a life is better to live free from pain than a twofold life for somebody who is suffering pain, like this man. [33] He has reached such a level of shamelessness that he is contriving to pursue a political career. He is already delivering public speeches, he is making accusations, he is challenging some of the public ofﬁcials at their dokimasia, and he enters the council chamber and gives advice about sacriﬁces, processions, prayers, and oracles. And yet what sort of gods do you think you will be gratifying if you follow this man’s advice? If you choose to forget the things which were done by this man, gentlemen of the jury, do not believe that the gods will forget as well. [34] He thinks that he has the right to take part in the polis—not remaining inactive, as somebody who has committed crimes. Instead, his attitude is as if he himself is discovering those who offended against the polis. He is plotting how he can become more powerful than other people, as if it were not simply on account of your gentleness and your lack of available time that he had not been punished by you. He has continued now to commit offences against you, and has not escaped notice, but he will be punished as soon as he is put on trial. [35] He will also rely on the following argument. (It is necessary to explain to you how this man will defend himself, so that you can make a better decision after hearing from both sides.) For he claims that he did much good for the polis, by bringing a denunciation and putting an end to the state of fear and disruption which existed at the time. But who was responsible for these great troubles? [36] Was it not this man himself, by behaving in the way that he did? So for the good things it is necessary to give thanks to this man, in that he brought a denunciation, and you gave him immunity as his payment? But for the disruption and the troubles you yourselves are to be responsible, in that you were trying to discover those who had committed impiety? Surely not. Indeed,

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precisely the reverse: this man disrupted the polis, and you restored it. [37] I hear that he intends to defend himself on the grounds that the agreements are valid for him as well, just as they are also for the rest of the Athenians. He thinks that if he produces this specious argument many of you will vote to acquit him, because you will be afraid of breaking the agreements. [38] On this point I shall argue that Andokides has nothing to do with the agreements: certainly not, by Zeus, the ones with the Spartans, which you agreed; nor the ones which those from Peiraieus agreed with those in the astu. For though we were so many, none of us had committed the same crimes as those of Andokides, or anything like them, such that he too could take advantage of us. [39] But it was not the case that we were in dispute on his account, and so became reconciled at a time when we extended a share in the agreement to this man as well. It was not for the sake of one man, but for the sake of us—those from the city and those from Peiraieus—that the agreement and the oaths took place. For it would be strange if, when we were in a difﬁcult situation, we had taken an interest in Andokides, who was not present, and how his offences could be wiped out. [40] I suppose somebody may claim that the Spartans, in the agreements made with them, took an interest in Andokides because they had received some beneﬁt from him. But did you yourselves take an interest in him? In return for what sorts of benefactions? Because he had frequently faced danger on your account for the sake of the polis? [41] This is not an honest defence of his, men of Athens. Do not be deceived. It is not breaking the settlement if Andokides pays the penalty for his own offences, but rather if somebody is punished in some way as an individual because of public disasters.

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[42] So perhaps he will in turn accuse Kephisios as well—and he will have a point to make, for the truth should be told. However, you could not in the same ballot punish both the defendant and the accuser. Instead, now is the opportunity to make a just decision about this man; another opportunity will come for Kephisios, and for each one of us whom this man will mention today. Do not, on account of a separate anger, acquit this criminal now. [43] He will argue that he became an informer; and that nobody else, if you punish him, will be willing to bring denunciations before you. But Andokides has had his informer’s reward from you: he saved his own life when other people died because of this. You are the cause of this man’s survival, but he himself is the cause of these sufferings and perils, because he has broken the immunity decree on the basis of which he became an informer. [44] You should not create a licence for informers to commit crimes—the ones which have been committed are quite sufﬁcient—but should punish those who offend. The remaining informers, all those who brought denunciations against themselves after being convicted on shameful charges, realise one thing at least, that they must not give trouble to those who have been wronged; they realise that they are regarded as Athenians with full citizen rights when they are away from Athens, but that while they are here they are regarded as impious criminals among the citizens who have been wronged. [45] The greatest criminal of them all, apart from this man, was Batrakhos, who became an informer under the Thirty; and although the agreements and the oaths applied to him just as they did to those from Eleusis, yet in his fear of you—whom he had wronged—he lived

434

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in another polis. Andokides has wronged the gods themselves as well: by entering the sanctuaries, he has treated them as less important than Batrakhos did humans. If somebody is more of an insane criminal than Batrakhos, he should certainly be content to have been spared by you. [46] Come now, on what consideration should you acquit Andokides? Is it because he is a brave soldier? But he has never gone out on campaign from the polis—neither as a cavalryman nor as a hoplite, neither as a Trierarkh nor as a marine soldier, neither before the disaster nor after the disaster, even though he is more than forty years old. [47] And yet there were other exiles who served as joint Trierarkhs with you in the Hellespont. Remember the great evils and the war from which you yourselves rescued both yourselves and the polis. You undertook great physical labours, you spent a great deal of money both individually and as a community, and because of the war that was happening you buried many good men from among the citizens. [48] Andokides did not experience any of these sufferings . . . [short lacuna, cf. Commentary] . . . to saving the fatherland, he claims that he should now have a share in the polis, while committing impiety within it. He is wealthy, and powerful in his possessions, and has become the xenos of kings and tyrants—or so he boasts, because he knows your habits—[49] but what eisphora . . . [short lacuna, cf. Commentary] . . . they might do good to this <man>. He knew that the polis was in a condition of considerable disruption and danger, but although he was a ship-owner,

436

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he did not have the courage, motivated ,2 to help his fatherland by importing grain. Metics and foreigners, because of their metic status, helped the polis by importing. But as for you, Andokides, what service have you performed? What sort of crimes have you remedied? What sort of nourishment have you repaid . . . [long lacuna, cf. p. 408 with n. 37 above]. . . . [50] . . . of Athens, remember what was done by Andokides. Bear in mind also the festival on account of which you received special honour at the hands of many people. Because of what you have often seen and heard, you are by now amazed at the offences of this man, such that not even what is terrible still seems terrible to you. But focus your attention, let your mind appear to see what this man has done, and you will come to a better decision. [51] This man put on a robe, imitating the sacred rites, and displayed them to those who were not initiates. He spoke out loud the words which must not be spoken. He mutilated those of the gods whom we worship, and to whom we sacriﬁce and pray, honouring them and purifying ourselves. It was on this basis that priestesses and priests stood facing the west and cursed him, shaking out their purple robes according to ancient and ancestral custom. This man has admitted that he did this. [52] In addition he transgressed the law

2

See Commentary.

438

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which you established, that he should be excluded from the sanctuaries as unclean. He has entered our polis, breaking all these restraints. He has sacriﬁced on the altars, where it was not permitted to him to do so. He has gone to the sanctuaries, which were the subjects of his impiety. He has entered the Eleusinion and washed himself in the holy basin. [53] Who should tolerate such things? What sort of friend or relative or deme-member3 needs to do a favour secretly for this man and publicly incur the hatred of the gods? You should realise that by punishing Andokides and getting rid of him, you are purifying the polis and freeing it from pollution, expelling the scapegoat, and getting rid of something accursed—because this man is one of those. [54] I would like to recount the advice which Diokles, son of the Hierophante¯s Zakoros and himself our grandfather, gave when you were deciding how to deal with a man from Megara who had committed impiety. Other people recommended that you should execute the man immediately without trial, but he advised putting him on trial for the sake of everybody else, so that other people would hear and see and grow in wisdom,—and for the sake of the gods he said that each one of you should come from his house into the court-room after making up his mind individually what the man guilty of impiety ought to suffer. [55] You too, men of Athens, must not be persuaded by this man. You know what to do. You have here a man who is clearly committing impiety. You have seen and heard his crimes. He will beg and beseech you, but do not have pity. It is not those who die justly, but those who do so unjustly, who deserve your pity.

3

But see Commentary.

Lysias 6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§1–3: An Exemplary Story about Impiety §1. ἔδησε τὸν ἵππον ἐκ τοῦ ῥόπτρου (‘he tied his horse to the door-knob’). The ﬁrst two-and-a-half words of this sentence are a reconstruction, based on the quotation in the lexicographical testimonia s.v. rhoptron (refs. in Carey’s OCT), of what must have been at the bottom of the previous missing page in the Palatinus manuscript. (The question of how much has been lost at the start is discussed at p. 408 with n. 37 above.) The title at the head of the speech has similarly been lost, but has been restored in modern editions on the basis of the table of contents at the front of the manuscript, and of its consistent use in the testimonia. οὗτος οὖν ὁ ταῦτα ποιήσας (‘the man who did this’). This particular cautionary tale of a man who tried to cheat the gods is not otherwise attested, so we cannot be sure that his offence was speciﬁcally against the Eleusinian cult, though this would make best sense as a tale told by the Hierophante¯s. It would also best suit the strategic needs of the speaker to focus on offences against this cult in particular, given his family relationship with a former Hierophante¯s (see next note but one), and given that the occasion for the present trial relates to Andokides’ having attended the Mysteries in c.400 (see p. 401 with n. 9 above, and—for the date—at p. 410 above), while the association of Demeter as a goddess of grain would make best sense of the offender’s punishment. Andok. 1.29 says that the prosecutors have related hair-raising (phriko¯de¯s) tales about the fate of people who have cheated the gods, which may be a reference to this story in particular (and perhaps even a post-trial addition to Andokides’ speech, cf. pp. 406–407 above). θανάτῳ τῷ ἀλγίστῳ (‘the most terrible death’). See the discussion of poetic vocabulary at p. 410 with n. 40 above. The myth of Tantalos (for which see e.g. Odyssey, 11.582–593) may have provided a model for the particular form of divine punishment outlined here. τοῦ ἱεροϕάντου λέγοντος (‘the Hierophante¯s telling this story’). The Hierophante¯s (lit. ‘displayer of sacred things’) had to be a member of the genos Eumolpidai, which together with the genos Ke¯rukes provided the ofﬁciating priests at the Eleusinian Mysteries. Since we do not have the beginning of the story, we cannot be sure whether he means the current Hierophante¯s or a recent predecessor. If the phrase at §2 τα` τ*τε λεχθ ντα (‘what was said at the time’) refers back to this story, then it must have been told in 415. If not, he may even be referring to his own great-grandfather Zakoros (§54), though in this case ‘many of us’ may be an

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exaggeration.) Nor can we tell whether the speaker at the start of the speech emphasised his own family relationship with the genos Eumolpidai, as he certainly did at the end, though many of his hearers may already have known that he was connected with this genos, especially if the connection was in the male line (cf. §54n): part of the strategy of the prosecution will presumably have been to demonstrate that both the Ke¯rukes (as represented by Kallias) and the Eumolpidai or their adherents (as represented by the speaker) were united against the defendant.1 [ὅτι Ἀνδοκίδης µηνύων τοὺς αὑτοῦ συγγενεῖς καὶ ϕίλους ἀπώλλυε, ϕάσκων αὐτοὺς συνέργους εἶναι] (‘i.e. that Andokides destroyed his own blood-relatives and his friends by denouncing them, saying they were his accomplices’).2 Since editors are unanimous in rejecting this as a scribal interpolation (on the grounds that what is being reported by the Hierophante¯s is in context the cautionary tale in §1, not an accusation against Andokides), I have not included this in my translation. §2. τὰ τότε λεχθέντα (‘what was said at the time’). This may refer back to the story told by the Hierophante¯s (i.e. this cautionary tale was so inﬂuential in the context of 415 that it deserves repeating), but the phrase τν το$του λ*γων (‘this man’s words’) may suggest that it means things said by Andokides (i.e. the fact of his denunciations). τοὺς τούτου ϕίλους (‘this man’s friends’). The allegation that Andokides ‘destroyed’ his friends by denouncing them is carefully countered at Andok. 1.52–53, where he claims that only four of those named by him in conjunction with the Herms had not already been denounced by Teukros, and further insists that all four are in fact still alive (his point is presumably that all four escaped into exile). It is not clear whether the speaker here is claiming that Andokides’ friends are so closely tied to him that they ought to have perished with him (on the whole, as noted by Dover 1974: 305, the Orators tend to assume that it is proper for the opponents’ friends to show him loyalty), since the argument may be a fortiori: if it is fair for Andokides to have destroyed his friends, how much more fair is it for him to be destroyed by an enemy.

§§3–7: Andokides as God-Cursed §3. τὼ θεὼ τούτω (‘these two goddesses’). Demeter and Persephone, cf. p. 400 above. ἐλπίσαι οὖν χρὴ πάντα ανθρωπον ὄντα καὶ ἑαυτῷ <α> καὶ ἑτέρῳ ἔσεσθαι (‘so one must expect, being human, that everything will happen to oneself which will also happens to someone else’). The general sense here is clearly ‘as humans, we 1

For the rôle played by family tradition in Andokides’ own speech, see Thomas (1989: 139–144). To avoid confusion, it may be worth noting that Carey’s division of the text here is that proposed by Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924–26]) in the Budé edition; many other editors classify this lemma as §2, with Carey’s §§2–3 together forming §3. 2

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are all in it together’, though the word-order is confusing (πα´ντα must presumably be n. pl., despite its proximity to α%νθρωπον) and the text (which has been disputed, cf. Carey’s OCT apparatus) is itself the product of emendation. §4. ἀθῷος (‘unscathed’). Not otherwise found in Lysias (with the exception of 11.5, which only loosely paraphrases 10.9), but not as rare in oratory as is implied by Blass (1887 [1868]: 569 n. 1): it is a particular favourite of Demosthenes, especially but not only in the public speeches, often when summarising a legal regulation which renders somebody exempt from prosecution (Dem. 18.125; 23.55, 61, 217; 58.11), but also when describing the result of an acquittal (Dem. 18.284; 19.258; 23.78; 34.46; and cf. Lyk. 1.144). ἔλθῃ κληρωσόµενος τῶν ἐννέα ἀρχόντων (‘goes to draw lots as one of the Nine Arkhons’). The terrible prospect of the opponent’s becoming the eponymous Arkhon is deployed in Lys. 26.12, and the humorous possibility of the speaker’s becoming one of the Nine Arkhons is suggested (possibly as a parody of this topos) in Lys. 24.13. (For cultic and other requirements for public ofﬁce, see Parker 1983: 268 with n. 52.) The argument does not appear to be used about prospective members of the Boule¯ (Lys. 31 portrays Philon’s appointment as disadvantageous but not as dangerous): this may be because they acted as a collectivity rather than as individuals, but an individual can pollute the group, so it may be that the Boule¯ had a less prominent rôle in Athenian religion. In the present passage the concern is speciﬁcally with the ofﬁce of Basileus (lit. ‘king’), the second of the Nine Arkhons, who was responsible for a range of religious matters (Ath.Pol. 57.1–2). Here the reason for particular concern is the rôle of the Basileus in the cult of the Eleusinian Mysteries (for which cf. following note). The prospect that Andokides will become Basileus seems far-fetched even as a worstcase scenario, unless he had already expressed an interest in the post or unless it was his tribe’s turn in the forthcoming year,3 but such a far-fetched hypothesis may be an indication that this is not a very good speech. τῷ ἐνθάδε Ἐλευσινίῳ . . . τῷ Ἐλευσῖνι ἱερῷ (‘the Eleusinion here . . . the sanctuary at Eleusis’). The Eleusinion at Athens was on the north slopes of the Acropolis, above the Agora (full description of the remains in Miles 1998). It is discussed in passing by Pausanias in a context which emphasises its mythological connections with the Eleusinian Mysteries (Pausan. 1.14.2–3), but is clearly distinguished by Pausanias from Eleusis itself where the Mysteries were celebrated (Pausan. 1.38.3–7; for the site at Eleusis, see in detail Mylonas 1961).4 The rôle of the 3 Rhodes (1981: 614) notes the implication of Ath.Pol. 55.1 that ‘different posts within the college [of Nine Arkhons] went to different tribes in rotation, either by tribal order or by lot over a ten-year period’, but emphasises that we do not know when such a system was introduced (there is no identiﬁable epigraphic evidence for rotation by tribal order earlier than the Ath.Pol. itself, written in the 330s or 320s). Nor is it clear that rotation by lot (as opposed to rotation by tribal order) would allow interested parties to predict in advance which post their tribe would hold in the coming year. 4 The distinction does not seem to have been realised by the Palatinus copyist, for whom Eleusis is ‘here’, but Paulmier’s transposition is universally accepted.

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443

Basileus in offering sacriﬁce and prayer in this cult is not to my knowledge otherwise attested, though it is not intrinsically unlikely: we certainly hear of him conducting other sacriﬁces (e.g. to Zeus So¯te¯r at Lys. 26.8, albeit as substitute for the Arkhon), and cf. following note for his broader supervisory responsibilities over this particular cult. τῆς ἑορτῆς ἐπιµελήσεται µυστηρίοις (‘take charge of the festival of the Mysteries’). Heorte¯ is the standard word for ‘festival’, used in this speech repeatedly to describe the Mysteries (§5, §17, §50); similarly at Andok. 1.32 and Dem. 59.21, and in the Eleusinian Mysteries law of c.380–c.350 bc (Clinton 1980 = SEG 30 [1980], 61.29). Our main evidence for the supervisory rôle played by the Basileus is Ath.Pol. 57.1, which lists this as the ﬁrst of the festivals for which he was responsible, and claims that at the time of writing he was assisted in this by four Epimele¯tai, who are themselves ﬁrst attested in the law that has just been cited (Clinton 1980: 272) and may well therefore be a post-400 innovation. The fact that Ath.Pol. does not in this context mention either the Hierophante¯s or the Dadoukhos (for which see p. 402 with n. 13 above) may suggest that the rôle of the Basileus and (later) the Epimele¯tai was qualitatively different, though we do hear at Andok. 1.111–112 of an allegedly Solonian law requiring the Boule¯ to meet in the Eleusinion (see previous note) on the day after the festival itself, prior to which the Basileus gave the Prytaneis his customary report on the festival; Andokides claims that Kallias’ attempt to intervene at that meeting was itself illegal,5 but does not object to his having been present and robed as Dadoukhos. §5. τοὺς µύστας τοὺς ἀϕικνουµένους (‘the initiates who come’). The participle seems to imply that these are visitors to Athens, and therefore that the two groups referred to in this sentence are contrasted not as Athenians and non-Athenians, but as non-Athenian initiates and non-Athenian non-initiates. The implication is not simply that large numbers of non-Athenians, but also of non-initiates attend the festival (here described both as heorte¯, cf. previous note, and also as pane¯guris, a public festival, often used of Pan-hellenic festivals),6 both to participate in incidental activities like sacriﬁce, and also as spectators (see next note but one). ἕνεκα ταύτης τῆς ἑορτῆς (‘because of this ceremony’). Unlike most Greek prepositions, heneka normally follows its genitive. The word order adopted here is not unparalleled in the Orators (it is found e.g. at Isok. 20.1; Isai. 3.35), though the present speech is unusual in having no fewer than seven examples of this phenomenon (here and at §38 [three times], §41 [twice] and §49; the

5 Because he was Dadoukhos rather than Hierophante¯s, and only the latter had the right of exegesis: cf. §10n. 6 Pane¯guris used of e.g. Olympics (Isok. 16.32) as well as of Mysteries (IG ii2, 1191.17, dated 321/0). For the numbers of those attending the Mysteries either as Mystai (going through preliminary initiation) or as Epoptai (undergoing the ﬁnal stage of initiation a year later), see Parker (2005: 348 n. 91), who notes that the main point of uncertainty is whether former initiates would also take part in the procession, thereby swelling the numbers above the low thousands.

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regular word order is found in this speech only at §54 [twice] ). Such frequency of an unusual usage may reinforce suspicions that the speech is not by Lysias (elsewhere in the corpus it is found on only four other occasions, at Lys. 4.9, 19.17, 24.2, and at 20.2 [the latter not in my view the work of Lysias] ), but it is not obviously a post-classical usage: cf. above pp. 404–405 on possible anachronisms. ἢ θεωρεῖν (‘or to attend it as theo¯roi’). For the verb theo¯reo¯ and its cognates, see 8.5n: it tends to be used of those attending religious events, either as ofﬁcial delegates representing their polis or—as seems more likely in this context—as private individuals taking part in a festival. §6. ἀγνώς. Here in its regular passive sense ‘unknown’ (LSJ s.v. I), rather than the active ‘unknowing’. The implication is that an open and notorious crime is worse than a secret one, at least in a potential ofﬁce-holder: this is a world in which hypocrisy is less of a concern than public scandal. διὰ τὰ ἠσεβηµένα (‘because of past impieties’), lit. ‘the things that have been impiously done’. It is not at this point ﬁrmly stated, but we are left to infer that what Andokides is implicated in is not (or not simply) denunciation or admission, but participation. This is made explicit (at least with reference to the profanation of the Mysteries) at §51, though the nearest to an accusation involving the Herms in the extant portions of this speech is §§11–12, which is extremely allusive. The version Andokides puts forward at this trial is that to prevent worse dangers he had denounced some of those involved in the affair of the Herms, of which he admits some (fore-)knowledge (Andok. 1.60–66), but that he had neither committed nor admitted nor denounced in the affair of the Mysteries (Andok. 1.10, 1.29). The signiﬁcance of this and other discrepancies between Lys. 6 and Andok. 1 is discussed at p. 406 above. πόλεις πολλάς (‘a great many poleis’). The catalogue which follows is a list of regions rather than poleis, so presumably the speaker is thinking of the various poleis that comprise e.g. Sicily or the Peloponnese. Nothing else is said in Lys. 6 about any of these places except Sicily (the story of Dionysios of Syracuse at §§6–7) and Cyprus (separate visits to Kition at §26, and to Euagoras of Salamis at §28). There is not much independent and reliable evidence for his travels, because neither his offer of timber from Macedonia (Andok. 2.11) nor that of potential grain from Cyprus (Andok. 2.21) is accompanied by the explicit statement that he had been there, though Andok. 1.4 may imply an extended visit or series of visits to Cyprus, and Cyprus is the focus also of the various activities listed at Ps.-Plutarch, Life of Andokides, 834e–f (not necessarily reliable). However, none of the places cited is inherently improbable for an aristocratic exile taking advantage of his family connections to build up activity as a merchant (cf. §49). Given that Andokides seems to have been based at Athens since the democratic restoration, all his travels will presumably have occurred during the period 415– 403, and it is interesting that no comment is made here about their political signiﬁcance (e.g. that visiting the Peloponnese in time of war is an act of disloyalty).

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κεκολάκευκεν (‘has been a ﬂatterer’). Kolax is of course a pejorative term: Andokides would presumably have described his relationship as one of xenia (for which see Herman 1987). A similar though more self-reﬂective manipulation of the term can be found at Dem. 18.46, where Demosthenes claims that those politicians who had expected to be seen as philoi and xenoi of Philip when they accepted his (alleged) bribes were in fact regarded as his kolakes. πλὴν τοῦ Συρακοσίου ∆ιονυσίου (‘except Dionysios of Syracuse’). On Dionysios I, tyrant of Syracuse, see Caven (1990). He was the secretary to the board of Generals there in 406, and used that position to assume power, which he retained until his death in 367. His alleged dealings with Andokides must have occurred before the latter’s return to Athens in 403, and given the tenuousness of his early hold on power, it is interesting that he is included here in the category of ‘kings’ (basileis), though without formally having the term applied to him. (In various Athenian decrees, the earliest of which is dated 394/3 [Rhodes & Osborne 2003, no. 10, lines 6–7], Dionysios is regularly described as ‘ruler [arkho¯n] of Sicily’, but such documents are in a more formal register.) His inclusion among ‘kings’ here may reﬂect perceptions in c.400, by which time his position will have been more secure than when Andokides was in Sicily; and an Athenian audience may also have been more aware of him by this date, though the ﬁrst recorded mention of him in an Athenian ofﬁcial text is in 393 (above). Given our lack of external evidence for Athenian perceptions of Dionysios at this date, it is hard to be sure whether the speaker is attempting to say nice things about Dionysios for political reasons, or is simply taking the chance to introduce a damaging anecdote about Andokides. Blass (1887 [1868]: 563) rightly describes the following anecdote as ‘rambling’. §7. τέχνην (‘special skill’). A tekhne¯ is in origins a craft-skill, though it can be extended ironically, e.g. to cover Eratosthenes’ adultery at 1.16n. To say of Andokides that his skill is in being able neither to help friends nor to harm enemies is particularly damning, given the importance of doing both of these in Greek ethical views of friendship: see Blundell (1989: 26–59, both halves of equation), and Konstan (1997: 56–59, focusing on friends). µὰ τὸν ∆ία (‘by Zeus’). Invocations to the gods using the interjection ma are found on ninety-four occasions in the speeches of the Orators, but their distribution is very uneven.7 Six of the Ten Orators account for only ﬁve examples between them (none in Isokrates, Andokides, or Lykourgos, only one each in Antiphon and Hypereides, and three in Deinarkhos). By contrast, Isaios and the speeches of Aiskhines each have nine, and the corpus of Demosthenes has sixtyseven (fairly evenly distributed by genre: 19 demegoric, 26 public forensic, 22 private forensic). In the corpus of Lysias, there are only four examples, all 7 There are alternative forms of invocation to the gods, such as pros + genitive, but they are signiﬁcantly less common: πρ θεν (‘by the gods’) for instance is found thirty times in the Orators, but in Lysias always appears in the form πρ θεν 2 Ολυµπων (‘by the Olympian gods’: Lys. 13.95, 19.34, 19.54; elsewhere only at Isai. 6.58).

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in speeches whose authorship is suspect: 6.7, 6.32, 6.38, and 8.18. The three examples in the present speech all invoke Zeus without cult-title, which is the most common usage overall in the speeches of other Orators (53/90 = 58.9 per cent), with Lys. 8’s invocation to ‘gods’ being the next most common (24/90 in other Orators = 26.7 per cent). Some Orators are particularly ﬂamboyant in their choice of gods to invoke: Aiskhines’ nine invocations, for instance, comprise two to Zeus, three to Olympian Zeus, one to the Olympian gods, two to Herakles, and one to Dionysos.

§§8–12: His Outrageous Behaviour since 403 §8. βουλεύσασθαι (‘to make a decision’). This verb is more commonly used to describe the process of deliberating, typically in the Assembly, but it can also be used of judicial decisions (e.g. at Ant. 5.73). ὦ ανδρες ̓Αθηναῖοι (‘men of Athens’). Lysias seems to have been more consistent than many of the Orators in the choice of how to address the audience of particular speeches (see 1.1n). Given that the present speech is generally agreed not to be the work of Lysias, however, we need not be surprised that there is within this speech some inconsistency between the forms o¯ andres Athe¯naioi (here and at §17, §41, §54) and o¯ andres dikastai (§33). τοῖς τε νόµοις τοῖς πατρίοις καὶ Ἀνδοκίδῃ χρῆσθαι (‘to retain your ancestral laws and to retain Andokides’). For the use of the idiom (lit. ‘make use of’), see 10.13n: there may be an attempt both here and also at §10 (where it is translated ‘apply’) to subvert its use by Andokides himself to describe the process of legal reform after 403 (Andok. 1.81–89), which he claims made it illegal to prosecute him. ἢ τοὺς νόµους ἐξαλειπτέον (‘either you must wipe out the laws’). For the uncomfortable overtones of the metaphor, see 1.48n. §9. καὶ λέγει περὶ τοῦ νόµου (‘he even makes speeches about the law’). Probably in the context of the present trial (cf. next note but one for an apparent response to Andokides’ argument that the decree of Isotimides had been annulled), rather than more generally e.g. as a practising politician at public meetings, though there is evidence elsewhere in the speech for such activity by Andokides (see §33n). Hansen (1978: 316 = 1983a: 162) notes that the distinction between nomos (‘law’) and pse¯phisma (‘decree’) that was formalised by the introduction of nomothesia in 403/2 is not consistently applied to earlier statutes, and suggests that this is why the decree of Isotimides can be described as a nomos here and at §29 and especially §52: this is no doubt part of the explanation, but there may also be an attempt here to deploy the rhetoric of destroying the law (cf. previous note), which is far more potent than destroying a decree. ἔτι καὶ νῦν Ἀθηναίων ἐν τῷ βουλευτηρίῳ (‘even today in the council-chamber of the Athenians’). The lacuna here is a short one: Carey’s OCT apparatus notes that the scribe of Af left a gap of 14–15 letters, presumably in the hope of ﬁnding a

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§9–10

447

more legible manuscript to copy. Since the context requires a reference to a claim made by Andokides, Carey suggests as a possible restoration <κατα` τDν στλην καθεστηκυ;>αν ‘ even today. . .’: he takes this as an allusion to the decree of Menippos granting immunity, which Andokides himself claims was in the Bouleute¯rion (Andok. 2.23, dated at some stage between 409 and 407). §10. Περικλέα ποτέ ϕασι (‘people say that Perikles once’). This is a rather lateral attack on Andokides’ argument that the decree of Isotimides had been annulled (Andok. 1.71–72: for the decree, cf. p. 401 above), which he supports by means of a complex argument about the juridical priority of written law (Andok. 1.85–89). Andokides quotes a law passed in the context of the legal reforms of 403/2 banning any public ofﬁcial from applying an agraphos nomos (Andok. 1.85),8 the signiﬁcance of which is disputed (‘unwritten’ or ‘uninscribed’). From this, he proceeds to assert that it is a fortiori unlawful for any ofﬁcial to apply an agraphon pse¯phisma or ‘unwritten decree’ (Andok. 1.86): he may well have invented this phrase (it is found nowhere else in the Orators), but he evidently wants it to be interpreted as meaning a decree that had not formed part of a putative legal code that he claims was reinscribed in or after 403/2. Andokides’ argument here is entirely specious, because even if the process of legal revision and reinscription was as extensive as he claims (Andok. 1.89),9 it is clear that it applied only to laws rather than to decrees. However, the speaker of Lys. 6 does not attempt to counter Andokides’ argument in these terms, preferring instead to bolster the status of ‘Eumolpid exegesis’ (cf. following note), by implying that this is not affected by Andokides’ ban (which may be correct, cf. MacDowell 1962: 125–126). It is interesting that this is done not by insisting on the priority of religious regulations over the rules of the polis—for this point, see Gernet (1938: 285), whereas J. W. Jones (1956: 63) provides no supporting evidence for his claim that the present passage reﬂects the ‘familiar theme’ of the superior force of unwritten law—but by appealing to one of Athens’ most famous democratic leaders, an appeal which is made all the more striking by the rarity of references to Perikles in the Orators.10 Scholars have often noted the parallel with the Periklean 8 The verb used both by Andokides (repeatedly) and in the current passage by Perikles to denote the application or implementation of law is khraomai (lit. ‘use’), on which see §8n. 9 There are reasons for doubting this, most notably the fact that the only legal text for which we have independent evidence of re-inscription in the aftermath of 403/2 is the work of Nikomakhos’ commission, which in this period seems to have been concerned only with establishing a sacriﬁcial calendar: for an interpretation of Andokides’ claim that there was indeed a process of systematic legal codiﬁcation, see Todd (1996: 127–130). 10 Perikles is mentioned only seven times in the Orators: most often as a nostalgic example of days when political leaders behaved better than today (allegedly never spoke with hand outside cloak at Aiskhin. 1.25; paid his ﬁnes at Dem. 26.6; received only an honoriﬁc rather than a ﬁnancial reward at Lyk. frag. Kephisodotos on honours for Demades; was a great lawgiver of the calibre of Solon and [sic] Themistokles at Lys. 30.28), and twice for family reasons (Alkibiades’ guardian at Isok. 16.28; origins of invitation to Lysias’ family at Lys. 12.4, with the reservations noted at p. 12 above). The present passage is unique in attributing to him a statement of policy.

448

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§10–11

funeral speech, which uses the term agraphos nomos in a rather different sense (Thuc. 2.37.3), and have speculated that the speaker here is manipulating Thucydides’ work (thus e.g. Gernet & Bizos 1955 [1924].i: 239, and Hornblower 1991–.i: 302–303). Εὐµολπίδαι ἐξηγοῦνται (‘the Eumolpidai conduct their exegesis’). The task of expounding the regulations of the Eleusinian Mysteries was restricted to the genos Eumolpidai (not the Ke¯rukes, cf. Andok. 1.116). We hear later of individuals holding the title of exe¯ge¯te¯s (expounder), but at this date the right of exegesis seems to have belonged to the whole genos (thus Oliver 1950: 18, citing IG i3, 78, lines 36–37, in support of this passage, and followed by Clinton 1974: 90). For a probable example of Eumolpid exegesis, see further §54n. οὐδὲ αὐτὸν τὸν θέντα ἴσασιν (‘do not even know the one who established them’). The emphatic use of anonymity as a mark of juridical authority is attested in other literary genres,11 but is not normal in the Attic Orators, and it may be a function of the attempt here to give special status to religious law. In general, the tendency in the Orators is to emphasise and/or invent legislators. The earlier Orators tend to speak about ‘the lawgiver’ (K νοµοθ τη, K θε τ ν ν*µον), in a way which is anonymous but without emphasising anonymity, and which focuses on the legislative wisdom of the individual. The later Orators go further, tending to identify him with more conﬁdence as a named individual, usually Solon;12 they also tend to make more speciﬁc assertions about his intentions (though in fact these seem to be based on no more than generalisation and inference, cf. 3.42n). ἡγεῖσθαι γὰρ αν αὐτούς (‘for he believed that they’), sc. those committing impiety (τοZ α2σεβο'ντα). §11. ὧν ἐκείνοις δεῖ τιµωρεῖν (‘those who have the task of exacting redress on their behalf’), i.e. humans who are sufﬁciently pious to initiate prosecutions for impiety. For the complex of meanings in timo¯reo¯ and its cognates (punish/ avenge), see 1.2n. προσεκαλέσατο δίκην ἀσεβείας . . . καὶ ἔλαχεν (‘he issued a summons for impiety . . . and obtained a hearing’). For the stages of procedure, see Harrison (1968– 71.ii: 85–94) at p. 85 (proskle¯sis) and pp. 88–89 (le¯xis) respectively. It is difﬁcult to envisage impiety being the subject of a dike¯ in the normal sense of the word (i.e. a private prosecution, which could only be brought by the aggrieved party), since this is an offence committed almost by deﬁnition against either the community or its gods, which would therefore necessitate a public procedure, and the 11 For example, Soph. Antig., 453–457, the context of which is speciﬁcally to place the claims of divine above those of human law, and which emphasises not only that divine laws are permanent and that nobody knows their origins (κοδε οjδεν ξ 9του 2 φα´νη, 457), but also that they are unwritten (α%γραπτα, 453, cf. α2γρα´φοι in the present passage). 12 Often explicitly, as at Aiskhin. 3.175, Hyp. Athenog. §§21–22, and most notably Dem. 20.90 and 24.212, both of which attribute to Solon pieces of legislation which cannot have been passed before 403/2. For laws of Solon in the corpus of Lysias, see 10.15n.

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §11

449

graphe¯ asebeias is indeed well attested.13 Admittedly the term dike¯ does have a broader signiﬁcance, which in certain contexts can be used to cover all types of prosecution, public as well as private (e.g. Dem. 46.26), but I am not aware of a clear parallel in the Orators for an individual graphe¯ being denoted by the word dike¯ (though see §12n). Pollux indeed appears to suggest this possibility by saying that graphai are called dikai but not vice versa (8.41), but he is not the most reliable of lexicographers. πρὸς τὸν βασιλέα (‘before the Basileus’). For the Basileus, see §4n. His competence over religious matters included presiding over graphai asebeias (Ath.Pol. 57.2). α οὗτος πεποίηκε (‘that this man had done’). To the English ear, it is slightly odd to refer in this way to Andokides himself, given the way he has just been mentioned by name in the main clause; in the Orators, however, it is common to use houtos (‘this man’) when referring to the speaker’s opponent. τὸν Ἄρχιππον (‘Arkhippos’). The manuscript here gives the name as Aristippos, but editors have generally accepted Paulmier’s emendation to match Arkhippos at the start of §12: given that the two are clearly the same person, one of them undoubtedly has to be emended into the other. In total, fourteen individuals named Aristippos appear in LGPN Attica, and ﬁfty-seven named Arkhippos. Of possible identiﬁcations, the most interesting would be with Arkhippos the comic poet, active in the period after 403 (LGPN Attica no. 5), or the Arkhippos who was denounced by Andromakhos for profaning the Mysteries (Andok. 1.13 = LGPN Attica no. 6), who are indeed tentatively identiﬁed with each other by MacDowell (1962: 211), followed by Gomme, Andrewes, & Dover (1945–81.iv: 277 n. 6). In the light of the projected litigation involving this man and Andokides (see following note), it is perhaps worth noting that nobody named Arkhippos (nor indeed Aristippos) is attested as having been denounced in conjunction with the Herms. ἀσεβεῖν περὶ τὸν Ἑρµῆν τὸν αὑτοῦ πατρῷον (‘was committing impiety towards his own ancestral herm’). The possessive phrase here raises two questions: ﬁrst, to whom does the reﬂexive adjective refer; and second, in what sense can a herm be called ‘ancestral’? The argument of Sluiter (1834) that this is a late rhetorician’s mistaken reference to the ‘herm of Andokides’ (see p. 404 above) was countered by Kirchhoff (1866: 7–13), who read it as Arkhippos’ herm, and this remedy was followed by e.g. Schneider (1901: 362–363) and Blass (1887 [1868]: 567 n. 1). What Sluiter does not point out, however, is that Andokides himself states that what evidently became known as the ‘herm of Andokides’, though close to his ancestral home, was dedicated by the Aigeid tribe (i.e. not by his ancestors, Andok. 1.62), and it seems unlikely that a putative late rhetorician would misread this as an ancestral dedication. MacDowell (1962: 5) points out that Andokides’

13

Graphai asebeias are found at e.g. Dem. 22.2; 35.48; 57.8; Hyp. Euxen. §6; and (in conjunction with the verb lankhano¯), at Ath.Pol. 57.2.

450

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§11–13

response makes most sense if the herm in question was somehow associated with himself, and I wonder about the possibility (noted by Begodt 1914: 18–19) that it may be a loose formulation for e.g. ‘at his ancestral home’. For the intriguing but perhaps far-fetched suggestion that we may have here not damage to a herm but an insult to Hermes as Andokides’ ancestral god, see Furley (1996: 64 n. 56). Furley’s further hypothesis is that the impiety consisted not of mutilation in 415, but of some insulting activity (he suggests daubing with paint) in 403. This theory has two advantages: it may ﬁt better the present tense of asebein (which ought perhaps to denote continuing impiety, though too much should not be made of this), and it also removes the problem of explaining why the defendant did not appeal to the Amnesty (though such an appeal might of course have been suppressed by the speaker here to avoid the inference that Andokides too might be similarly protected). §12. ἠντεδίκει (‘defended himself’). The verb antidikeo¯, literally perhaps ‘to litigate in response’, denotes not counter-prosecution but replying to somebody else’s indictment, as at Dem. 40.18 and 47.28. δοὺς ἀργύριον ἀπηλλάγη (‘paid some money and was released’), sc. from the charge. Apallage¯ (and its cognate verb apallattomai), often associated with aphesis, denotes a binding release from legal claims, which could later be used as grounds for preventing one’s opponent from bringing a fresh prosecution (Harrison 1968–71.ii: 116–120). The puzzle here is not so much why Arkhippos agreed to compromise the case (though there may be a problem over his failure to mention the Amnesty, which is one of the attractions of Furley’s second hypothesis discussed at §11n), but why the speaker unnecessarily admits this (cf. p. 405 above). On the penalties which Andokides may have faced for discontinuing a graphe¯, see Harrison (1968–71.ii: 104 with n. 3); Hansen (1976: 59 n. 23) argues that these do not in practice often seem to have been imposed, but his interpretation of several examples—including the present one—is challenged by E. M. Harris (1999: esp. at 137–138). δίκην ἀσεβείας λαβεῖν (‘to punish somebody else for impiety’). The use of dike¯ is less awkward than in §11, because there is slippage here between the phrase dike¯ (for graphe¯) asebeias, and the idiom dike¯n labein (‘to exact a penalty’).

§§13–20: A Possible Defence Objection §13. ἀλλὰ λέξει (‘he will argue’). Dorjahn (1935) provides an important discussion of this topos in the Orators, covering issues such as how far the defence’s case could be kept secret on the one hand, or predicted on the other. Andokides does mention the restoration of those he had denounced (1.53), though he does not speciﬁcally make the point about penalising the informer. Such a discrepancy however is not necessarily an incompatibility (for which cf. p. 406 above): it can be worth making up things that the defendant might say but probably will not, in order either to force him into your agenda, or to make it look as if you have scared him off. For another example of the topos, see 10.6n.

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§13–14

451

µηνυθέντες . . . ἐπίτιµοι (‘were denounced . . . full citizen rights’). Me¯nusis (denunciation) on the part of slaves is discussed at pp. 388–389 above, though in the present passage—contrast §22n—the denouncer is a citizen. Epitimos (pl. epitimoi) denotes one who has the full honour that is due to a citizen; the contrast is with atimos (pl. atimoi), lit ‘deprived of honour’, which signiﬁes a person who has lost some or all of the active rights which belong to a citizen (on which see generally Hansen 1976: 55–90). τοὺς µὲν οὖν αλλους οἱ ἐπιτάξαντες καταδέξασθαι ἀδικοῦσι (‘in the case of the others, those who gave instructions to receive them back [sc. from exile] are wrongdoers’). The ‘others’ who are the objects of this decision are evidently those convicted of impiety in 415, but the rest of the clause is less clear. We would expect a reference either to the Amnesty of 403, which was an agreement rather than a legislative act (for the terminology, see Loening 1987: 20–21), or possibly to the various recalls of exiles mentioned by Andokides (the series of decrees at 1.73–79). The verb epitatto¯ is used of one who instructs a third party to perform an action, with the third party normally being identiﬁed in the dative but sometimes not expressed (LSJ s.v. I). I suspect the reason for not expressing it here may be deliberate ambiguity, since it allows the audience to think either of Athenian political leaders persuading their followers to accept such a decision, or alternatively of the Amnesty as something imposed by the Spartans (for which cf. §38n). Either way, the imputation that those responsible are wrongdoers (possibly even ‘criminals’, cf. LSJ s.v. adikeo¯ I.a) is to my knowledge without parallel in our sources. εἰ δ’ ὑµεῖς αὐτοκράτορες ἀϕήσετε, αὐτοὶ ἔσεσθε οἱ ἀϕελόντες. . . (‘if you, who have sovereign power, acquit him, you yourselves will be the ones who undermine. . .’). The text here is in a bad state, but the broad meaning is clear. The adjective autokrato¯r (‘being one’s own master’, i.e. ‘having sovereign power’) is normally used in the Orators to signify that the holder of a particular ofﬁce had been granted unusually wide powers, though these powers are not always very clearly deﬁned.14 Examples include the Boule¯ in the crisis of 415 (Andok. 1.15), or particular ambassadors (Lys. 13.9–10, Andok. 3.6, Aiskhin. 3.63), or foreign commanders who are not subject to democratic controls (e.g. Dem. 18.155, of Philip). This is the only occasion in the Orators on which we ﬁnd it used of dikastai, apparently as a synonym for the more usual kurioi (‘authoritative’: for the use of this adjective to denote the laws, the de¯mos or the jurors, see Hansen 1991: 303, with refs.). §14. ἐκεῖνοι µὲν ἀρνοῦνται τὰ µεµηνυµένα (‘those men denied that the Mysteries were profaned’), lit. ‘that mysteries took place’. For the profanation as 14 In at least some cases involving ambassadors, the point seems to be that they had the right to negotiate rather than simply to deliver a prepared statement, though it is clear from Andok. 3 that the fruit of their negotiations might still require ratiﬁcation by the Athenian Assembly; similarly P.Mich. 5982 lines 35–36, as interpreted by Merkelbach & Youtie (1968: 164).

452

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§14–15

transgressive performance rather than as e.g. parody, see (Murray 1990: 155). ‘Those men’ are presumably the ones who were denounced by Andokides, since (unlike him, according to the speaker) they did not admit their guilt. ὁµολογεῖ ποιῆσαι (‘admitted doing so’). Presumably intended to recall the decree of Isotimides, which was directed against those who admitted committing impiety (cf. p. 401 above). One striking discrepancy between Lys. 6 and Andok. 1 is that Andokides, though he does not admit active participation, nevertheless lets slip far more involvement with the Herms than the Mysteries, whereas the extant portions of our speech tend to focus on Mysteries rather than Herms (cf. §1n, though there are allusions to the latter at §15n and possibly at §17n). καίτοι καὶ ἐν ̓Αρείῳ πάγῳ (‘and yet even in the Areiopagos’). The praise of the Areiopagos here is more striking than is admitted e.g. by Ober (1989: 141 n. 95), partly because this speech is delivered before an ordinary dikastic court (similar praise at e.g. Dem. 23.55 and Lyk. 1.12), but also because the rule that admission leads to summary justice, though well known in cases of apago¯ge¯ before the Eleven, is not otherwise attested for the Areiopagos. On the other hand, apago¯ge¯ could be used in cases of homicide (as in e.g. Lys. 13 and Ant.5), and it would be only a slight exaggeration to describe summary execution in such a case as having in some sense been carried out with the blessing of the Areiopagos as the pre-eminent homicide court. So although there may be misrepresentation, I am inclined not to see this as the sort of error that could only have been made by a later rhetorician (for which see pp. 404–405 above) rather than by a contemporary. §15. <κατὰ> τοὺς νόµους τοὺς ἐξ ̓Αρείου <πάγου> (‘in accordance with the laws of the Areiopagos’). We would expect this phrase to denote a homicide law, as at Lys. 1.30. Here presumably the reference is to a law governing the graphe¯ (or dike¯, cf. p. 284 above) traumatos ek pronoias, given that ‘wounding with intent (to kill)’ was tried by the Areiopagos and was procedurally assimilated to homicide (cf. on the dio¯mosia, 4.4n). The scope of the phrase here is not speciﬁed: he may be claiming that the law in question mentioned these speciﬁc parts of the body (which would imply at least the rudiments of statutory deﬁnition), but he could mean simply that the law prescribed banishment as the penalty, and that in practice it would be used in these circumstances (cf. 3.28n). ἐνδειχθεὶς θανάτῳ ζηµιωθήσεται (‘he will be executed after endeixis’), lit. ‘having experienced endeixis, he will be punished by death’. Endeixis was a procedure used against those who attempted to exercise civic rights to which they were no longer entitled (details in Hansen 1976: 18). It is mentioned here in place of the better-known apago¯ge¯ presumably because endeixis was the procedure currently being used against Andokides (cf. p. 401 with n. 9 above). τὰ αὐτὰ ταῦτα ἀδικήσῃ τὰ ἀγάλµατα τῶν θεῶν (‘commits the same criminal actions towards the statues of the gods’). One of the few allusions in the speech to the Herms rather than the Mysteries (cf. §1n and §14n). It does not,

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§15–18

453

unfortunately, help to resolve the question of what precise parts of the herms were mutilated (face or phallus), for which see e.g. Furley (1996: 28, with refs.). οὐδέ . . . κωλύσετε (‘will you not even prevent’). Again (cf. §14n) an allusion to the terms of the decree of Isotimides. τούτων (‘them’). Normally ‘these people’, but I take it to be a reference to the gods. §16. διὰ τὰ ἐνθάδε ἀσεβήµατα (‘because of impious actions committed at Athens’), lit. ‘committed here’. I am not aware of any supporting evidence for this, at least in the case of those implicated in the affairs of 415. There is certainly no indication that the Spartans imposed any such restrictions on Alkibiades following his abrupt departure from Athens. §17. τοσοῦτο δ’ οὗτος ∆ιαγόρου τοῦ Μηλίου ἀσεβέστερος γεγένηται (‘this man is considerably more impious than Diagoras the Melian’), lit. ‘to such an extent more impious’. The best evidence for the affair of Diagoras is Aristophanes’ parody of the decree against him (Birds, 1073–1075, with scholia); modern scholarship is surveyed by Dunbar (1995: 581–583) and by Parker (1996a: 208 n. 37). The extended contrasts here are, ﬁrst, between Andokides’ alleged actions (most obviously against the Herms, cf. §1n and §14n, unless the profanation of the Mysteries is also seen as a performative action) and Diagoras’ words (probably mocking the Mysteries, Parker 1996a: 208); and second, between Diagoras’ activities as a metic (xenos, lit. ‘foreigner’), such that both the rites and therefore the offence can be described as allotrios (‘foreign’, ‘remote’), and Andokides’ activities as a citizen (astos, despite the attack on this translation by E. E. Cohen 1997 and 2000a: 49–78) in a domestic offence (oikeios) against the rites of his own polis. Foreignness lessens the offence, because although the gods are Pan-hellenic, nevertheless their cults serve to deﬁne membership of the community, to which metics belonged only temporarily and on sufferance. περὶ τὰ ἱερά (‘against holy things’). The adjective has a wide semantic ﬁeld, but here may well refer to the sanctuaries that Andokides has allegedly profaned by entering them in c.400. §18. οὓς µὲν ἔχετε ἀδικοῦντας . . . τοὺς δὲ ϕεύγοντας (‘those criminals that you get your hands on . . . those who are in exile’). Continuing the contrast between people like Andokides on the one hand and Diagoras on the other. Attempted extradition was very rare at Athens—normally no proceedings would be taken against those who withdrew into exile, and in homicide cases there was a statutory right to do so midway through the trial—though occasionally a price was set on the head of a fugitive: 1 talent, as here, in the case of Diagoras (Aristoph. Birds, 1074), and an indeterminate sum in the case of those implicated in the affair of the Herms (Thuc. 6.60.4). δόξετε τοῖς Ἥλλησι κοµπάζειν µᾶλλον ἢ τιµωρεῖσθαι βούλεσθαι (‘it will seem to the Greeks that you are more keen to put on a display than to take redress’), or ‘that

454

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§18–19

you are putting on a display rather than being keen to take redress’. For timo¯reo¯ (punish/avenge), see 1.2n. §19. ἐπεδείξατο δὲ καί (‘in addition, he has made it clear’), sc. Andokides: a very abrupt transition. ὅτι θεοὺς οὐ νοµίζει (‘that he does not acknowledge the gods’). The verb nomizo¯, as in the indictment of Sokrates, ‘is poised between a reference to “custom, customary <worship>” and “belief ” ’ (Parker 1996a: 201 n. 8). οὐ γὰρ ὡς δεδιὼς τὰ πεποιηµένα (‘not because he was afraid of what had been done’). For Andokides to have ﬂed Athens by sea is understandable, but what really rankles is the ostentatiousness with which he has entrusted himself to the sea as a matter of deliberate choice, thereby demonstrating in the speaker’s view his contempt for the gods. ναυκληρίᾳ ἐπιθέµενος τὴν θάλατταν ἔπλει (‘became involved in ship-owning and travelled by sea’). A naukle¯ros is the owner of a (merchant) ship, who typically travels on the ship itself (see generally Vélissaropoulos 1980: 77–81); here the imperfect tense of eplei suggests repeated voyages. For the idea that the shared risks of sea-travel make it the supreme context in which the gods may take it out on a guilty person’s fellow travellers, see Ant. 5.81–83 (with Adkins, 1960: 101 n. 24). The signiﬁcance of Andokides’ rebuttal of this argument (Andok. 1.137–139), as evidence for the relationship between the two speeches, is discussed at p. 407 above: his rhetorical success derives not simply from showing that he has survived the voyages (a point which the speaker seeks to counter in §20), but from focusing on the tainted status of Kephisios as the gods’ putative agent in their delayed revenge. (Furley, 1996: 112–114, notes that Andokides’ representation of Kallias as alite¯rios [an evil spirit, 1.130–131] serves further to undermine the prosecution’s moral ground here, though it is not made in the context of refuting this particular argument.) ἐπὶ τῇ ἐµῇ προϕάσει (‘at my instigation’: LSJ s.v. II.2 suggests ‘à propos of me’). This is the manuscript reading, though it seems an odd claim to be made by anybody except the chief prosecutor Kephisios, who is referred to by name elsewhere in the speech and cannot therefore be the speaker (cf. p. 404 above). One possibility is to emend the text;15 another is to suggest post-trial revision (as at Of the various alternatives listed in Carey’s apparatus, Kayser’s π τ^ -µb προκλσει (‘at my challenge’) seems unlikely because there is no obvious sense in which the speaker has issued a challenge to Andokides; similarly Markland’s π τιµ8 προφα´σει (‘with the purpose/pretext of honour’), since Andokides had done nothing in 403 to make him expect the enthusiastic reception he wrongly expected from the Four Hundred. Zutt’s π τ^ -µb προστασS (‘under my championship’) is a possibility, since the speaker certainly is championing the gods in the way that Andokides teases Kephisios with not being able to do (Andok. 1.139). If prophasis here can be read as ‘occasion’ (LSJ s.v. II.2) rather than its more common sense of false or genuine cause, then the best alternatives would seem to be Thalheim’s π τ^δε τ^ προφα´σει (‘on this occasion’) and Carey’s own π2 πιτηδεS προφα´σει (‘at a suitable occasion’). 15

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§19–21

455

§42, on which cf. pp. 405–406 above), designed to abandon the moral low ground surrendered by Kephisios. §20. οὔτε γὰρ ὁ θεὸς παραχρῆµα κολάζει (‘for god does not punish instantaneously’). For the traditional Greek doctrine that although divine punishment might occur quickly, nevertheless it might be delayed so much that it would fall on the sinner’s descendants, see Dover (1974: 260, with refs.). ἀλλ̓ αὕτη µέν ἐστιν ἀνθρωπίνη δίκη (‘that sort of justice is characteristic of humans’). Albini excises this, on the grounds that it is banal. It may be a marginal gloss that has slipped into the text, but such banality may be a further indication that this is not a terribly good speech. ἤδη ἐπιθυµῆσαι τελευτήσαντας (‘keen to die prematurely’), lit. ‘to die already’. This passage is ‘noteworthy in that the speaker of Lys. 6 makes considerable use of religious beliefs and fears; yet he abstains from threatening a continuation of punishment beyond death’ (Dover 1974: 267).

§§21–32: Andokides’ Sufferings after 415 §21. σκέψασθε δὲ καὶ αὐτοῦ ̓Ανδοκίδου τὸν βίον (‘examine the life of Andokides himself’). Various scholars (e.g. Jebb 1893 [1876].i: 280) have argued that the recital of Andokides’ sufferings at §§21–24 will have risked evoking the audience’s sympathy, but this may depend on importing modern assumptions about fair play into the ancient world. For the willingness to gloat over an enemy’s misfortunes, see Dover (1974: 182). ἐξ ἐπιβουλῆς εἰσαχθεὶς εἰς τὸ δικαστήριον (‘after being dragged into court intentionally’). It is not easy to reconcile the following account of Andokides’ denunciations with that given by Andokides himself (1.60–66), partly because they seem to be referring at the very least to different stages of a process (Andok. 1 before the Boule¯, and Lys. 6 before a law court), which may also imply that it is in neither speaker’s interest to tell the whole story. There is also the problem, however, that the text is in several places problematic.16 ‘Intentionally’ in my translation of §21, for instance, follows the defence offered by MacDowell (1962: 177) for the manuscript reading ex epiboule¯s (a reading which is accepted also by Carey), but this is more for convenience than through conviction, since epiboule¯ in the Orators tends normally to have the sense of an intention which is aimed against the interests of other people (thus e.g. Ant. 1.3; 5.25; Lys. 13.17: LSJ s.v. translates it as ‘plot’, ‘scheme’, or ‘treachery’). Of the emendations that have been offered, the most attractive palaeographically is ex epibole¯s (‘on the basis of a summary ﬁne’, for which see p. 589 with n. 33 below), which was proposed initially by Taylor but accepted by various editors including Hude. As MacDowell notes, however, this does not seem to ﬁt the context: not least because

16

In addition to ξ πιβουλ8 here, see also §23n for the difﬁculties created by γγZ νιαυτ*ν.

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such ﬁnes were imposed by ofﬁcials or the boule¯ and were restricted to small sums.17 τιµησάµενος δεσµοῦ (‘proposing imprisonment as a penalty’). In cases where the penalty was not ﬁxed by statute, it was regularly determined by a process of counter-assessment (time¯sis), with both sides proposing alternatives which the jury had to choose between. As described here, however, there are several peculiarities: imprisonment, though not unparalleled, is an unusual proposal; moreover, this is the sole attested instance of a contingent penalty, in that it will only take effect in case of the defendant’s failure to produce further evidence (on both these points see Todd 1993: 140). Taken together, these points suggest that we may be dealing not with time¯sis in its usual post-conviction sense, but either with a proper but otherwise unattested use of the word, or alternatively with its misuse designed to imply that Andokides had been convicted. εἰ µὴ παραδοίη τὸν ἀκόλουθον (‘if he failed to hand over his slave’). Presumably for torture, cf. Andokides’ claim at 1.64 to have supported his account by handing a slave over for torture (though he does not say that torture was actually applied). Akolouthos is by no means Lysias’ favourite term for a slave (for which see 1.42n), but it is found at 32.16, and in conjunction with pais at frag. 222 Against the graphe¯ of Meixidemos. §22. ἵνα <µὴ> µηνυτὴς γένοιτο (‘so that he might not become an informer’). The term me¯nusis is used in this speech in rather looser ways than in Lys. 5, where it denotes denunciation made by a slave without being tortured: at §13 it is denunciation by a citizen that is at issue, whereas here the torture of the slave is apparently envisaged (cf. §21n). καίτοι πῶς οὐ θεῶν τις τὴν τούτου γνώµην διέϕθειρεν (‘and yet how could it be the case that one of the gods had not destroyed the mind of this man’), lit. ‘how could one of the gods not have destroyed . . .’. What is being afﬁrmed is that this is the explanation of Andokides’ behaviour. ἐπ’ ἐλπίδι τῇ αὐτῇ (‘when his hopes were the same in either case’), i.e. nonexistent, lit. ‘on the basis of the same hope’. §23. ἐγγὺς ἐνιαυτόν (‘for nearly a year’). The implication of an extended term of imprisonment is so hard to match with Andokides’ picture of a short stay in prison that Furley (1989) emends it to γγυσα /αυτ*ν (‘making himself his own surety’), but this entails an oddly metaphorical use of the verb. In an important revisionist account of the events of 415, MacDowell (1962: 177–180) concedes that this particular allegation is probably incorrect—he suggests either textual corruption or malicious exaggeration—but nevertheless argues that Andokides

Droysen’s κ τ8 βουλ8 (followed by Albini) would mean ‘from the council ’, which is not as easy palaeographically, not least because it is not a difﬁcilior lectio. 17

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§23–24

457

may have more reason to lie about handing over the slave than the speaker here has for inventing the story, and that an extended imprisonment would give more time for Plutarch’s assertion that Andokides’ denunciation followed persuasion by one Timaios who had become an intimate friend while in prison (Plut. Alkibiades, 21.4–6, whereas Andok. 1.48–51 himself claims the persuasion came from his cousin Kharmides and implies that this happened on the night of his arrest). MacDowell further points out that Andokides nowhere claims to have been released following his denunciation about the Herms, and suggests reimprisonment until he obtained his release by denouncing others (including perhaps his father Leogoras) for profaning the Mysteries. (This entails rejecting Thucydides’ account at 6.60, a position argued for by MacDowell pp.174–176.) This hypothesis is ingenious, but perhaps too much so, and has not won favour with subsequent interpreters: Marr devotes a whole paper to this question, highlighting a number of demonstrable errors in Lys. 6’s version, but noting that Andokides never formally claims what he seeks to imply, that his imprisonment lasted only one night (Marr 1971, at p. 329); Hansen concludes that ‘the account given in Lys. 6 is nonsense on any theory’ (Hansen 1975: 79 n. 11, cf. 81–82 n. 23); Edwards (1995: 23) notes that one of the aims of the present speaker is to represent Andokides as a jail-bird; and Furley (1996: 56–57) argues that the stories about Kharmides and Timaios are too much of a doublet to sustain a theory of two distinguishable terms of imprisonment. κατὰ τῶν αὑτοῦ συγγενῶν καὶ ϕίλων (‘against his own relatives and friends’). The striking fact that Andokides (1.19) seeks to rebut the charge that he had denounced his father, whereas this passage focuses on Andokides’ alleged denunciation of his family and friends, is discussed at p. 406 above. §24. ἐπειδὴ ἀπεκτονὼς ἦν (‘after he had killed’). Andokides’ version (1.59) is that his denunciation caused the deaths of none and the exile of only four, though he implies that he denounced others who were already on the run. ἔδοξε τἀληθῆ µηνῦσαι (‘he was seen to be making a truthful denunciation’). Or, ‘he decided to make’. Dokeo¯ here may be being used personally (‘he was seen’), though the impersonal use (‘it seemed ’) is more common. προσεψηϕίσασθε (‘you voted speciﬁcally’). The uncompounded verb pse¯phizomai can be used of a decree or of a court verdict; the preﬁx pros- ought to denote an additional proposal, which would be appropriate if the decree of Isotimides (cf. p. 401 above) was passed after Andokides’ denunciation and speciﬁcally aimed at him. δύνασθαι δίκην λαβεῖν (‘would <not> be able to exact a penalty’), i.e. he would be unable to take legal action, because he would be barred from entering the Agora in order to initiate it. He retained his substantive rights e.g. to own property (Harrison 1968–71.i: 236 n. 2), but procedurally his capacity to defend these rights was very restricted (Harrison 1968–71.ii: 83 with n. 1).

458

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§25–27

§25. ἐπὶ τοιαύτῃ αἰτίᾳ ἠτιµώθη (‘has ever suffered atimia on a charge like this’). The use of the language of atimia (on which cf. §13n) is perhaps ill-judged, because if the restrictions imposed on Andokides had been described as atimia in the decree of Isotimides itself, then this would presumably have been annulled (as Andok. 1.73–80 claims) by the decree of Patrokleides in 405. τούτων (‘for this’), lit. ‘for these things’, which could mean either the atimia which Andokides has suffered (viz. that this is either divine punishment or his own fault) or possibly the fact that Athens has previously been free of such offences (either through the gods’ assistance or through beneﬁcent fortune). τὸ αὐτόµατον (‘to chance’). Thus LSJ s.v. II, though I wonder whether it might denote not so much the free choice of the events themselves, but rather Andokides’ free choice. §26. ὡς τὸν Κιτιέων βασιλέα (‘to the court of the king of Kition’). A Phoenician city on the south-east coast in Cyprus, but not the best-known place in Cyprus (for the signiﬁcance of this point see p. 405 above). Presumably it was either the ﬁrst place he went, or alternatively somewhere about which there was an available anecdote or innuendo. ἐϕοβεῖτο (‘had to fear’), lit. ‘was afraid of ’. Not so much an allegation of cowardice, but of having had to undergo treatment which—though in the speaker’s view legitimate—was nevertheless shameful. τὰ ἀκρωτήρια (‘the bits at the end of his body’), i.e. ﬁngers, hands, feet, nose, etc. For such mutilation as a savage punishment, see Polyb. 5.54.10, Diod.Sic. 34.8 (the latter explicitly including the removal of arms as well as hands). There may be an attempt in the present passage to suggest talionic divine punishment, because Plutarch uses the cognate verb akro¯teriazomai to describe the Mutilation of the Herms (Alkib. 18.6; Nikias, 13.3). §27. ἀποδράς (‘after running away’). Presumably he was released without charge, or perhaps tried and acquitted, but the verb is well chosen, because it is a normal word for describing a runaway slave. ἐπὶ τῶν τετρακοσίων (‘at the time of the Four Hundred’), i.e. during the fourmonth oligarchy of summer 411. This was Andokides’ ﬁrst attempt to return (for which cf. p. 401 above). The fact that the oligarchs are described as τοZ Iδικηµ νου ατο$ (‘the very people he had wronged’) suggests a perception that the subject of Andokides’ denunciation—presumably the Mutilation of the Herms—was indeed an oligarchic plot, and that the oligarchs regarded his denunciations as a betrayal. This point is well made by Furley (1996: 60), but although he is clearly right to distinguish the two scandals (1996: 41–48), nevertheless I am unconvinced by the political agenda which he detects behind the Profanation of the Mysteries (1996: 31–50): see the discussion at p. 400 n. 7 above.

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§27–29

459

λήθην ἔδωκεν (‘had granted. . . forgetfulness’). On the use of divine intervention as an explanation for unexpected or foolish decisions here, at §22, and in other speeches, see Dover (1974: 137). ἀϕικόµενος δὲ ἐδέθη καὶ ᾐκίσθη (‘on arrival, he was imprisoned and maltreated’). Cf. Andokides’ account at 2.13–15. V. J. Hunter (1994: 175) discusses the possibility that we have here a citizen being tortured, but in view of the absence of the technical vocabulary of torture, she suggests that this may instead refer to the regular hardships of imprisonment (chains, etc., 1994: 175 with n. 39). It should be noted that the constitutional background is non-democratic, which may undermine Hansen’s interpretation of the procedure as a regular example of endeixis followed by apago¯ge¯ (1976: no. 3 at p. 125). ἀπώλετο δὲ οὐχί, ἀλλ’ ἐλύθη (‘but instead of being executed he was released’). A rather banal conclusion to the narrative sequence, given the rhetorical effort that has been expended in building up to it: once again, perhaps an indication that this is not a very good speech. §28. ὡς Εὐαγόραν τὸν Κύπρου βασιλεύοντα (‘to the court of Euagoras, who was king of Cyprus’). Strictly, ruler (since 411 bc) of Salamis in Cyprus, but given that this was the largest city in the island, and that the Athenians had granted him citizenship as a benefactor as early as IG i3, 113 (dated by M. J. Osborne, 1981–83.i: 31, no. D.3, as ‘(?) early 407’), it is not particularly surprising to ﬁnd him referred to in these terms. §29. [εἰς τὴν αὑτοῦ πόλιν] (i.e. ‘to his own polis’) is deleted by many editors, including Carey, as repetition of deuro (‘to here’). τοῖς µὲν πρυτάνεσιν ἔδωκε χρήµατα (‘he gave money to the Prytaneis’). The context is Andokides’ second attempt to return, which was the occasion for Andok. 2 On his Return: for the date (estimates vary between 409 and 407), see variously MacDowell (1962: 4 n. 9), Marr (1971: 333 n. 1), Medda (1989–95.i: 193), and Furley (1996: 52 with n. 20).18 The Prytaneis were the ﬁfty members of one tribal delegation to the Boule¯, which for one-tenth of the year performed the functions of an executive and standing committee. The function of the allegation of bribery is of course to suggest that they should not even have allowed him to speak, though Andok. 2.19–22 implies that his main bargaining counter on this occasion was not so much personal bribery, as his purported ability to inﬂuence the arrival of grain from Cyprus. It is not clear what constitutional context is being referred to here, because Prytaneis ought to imply a meeting of the Assembly (at which in the ﬁfth century they presided), whereas enthade (‘here’) ought to imply not simply ‘at Athens’ but ‘before the present body (i.e. the court)’.

18 For the ﬁrst attempt to return, during the régime of the Four Hundred (hence presumably the emphasis here on the second attempt as having taken place under the democracy), see Andok. 2.13–16 and §27 above.

460

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§29–30

τοὺς νόµους οὓς ἐψηϕίσασθε (‘the laws which you had voted’). Presumably the decree of Isotimides, cf. §9n. §30. οὐ δῆµος, οὐκ ὀλιγαρχία, οὐ τύραννος, οὐ πόλις (‘neither de¯mos nor oligarchy nor tyrant nor polis’), i.e. Andokides has been rejected by every legitimate constitutional authority with which he has come into contact. As early as Herodotos (Hdt. 3.80–83), Greek political theory tends to think of democracy, oligarchy, and monarchy as the standard forms of constitution, and the addition of polis as a fourth term is therefore slightly odd. It is possible that it is intended to sum up the previous three (no de¯mos, no oligarchy, no tyrant, i.e. no polis). But it may simply be a casual piece of phrasing, since polis is used loosely elsewhere in this speech (see §6n). ἀλώµενος διάγει (‘he has continued wandering’). For the use of poetic vocabulary in this speech, see p. 409 with n. 40 above. There may be a hint here that being made to wander is an aspect of being accursed, given the recurrent link between the two concepts in Greek tragedy (e.g. Orestes at Aeschyl. Eumen. 417–421; Oedipus at Soph. Oed.Col. 154 with 165–166). πιστεύων ἀεὶ µᾶλλον τοῖς ἀγνῶσι (‘always trusting more in those who do not know him’). One of the implications of the Greek ethic of friendship is that anybody who has to trust strangers is doing so only because he alienated all his friends. δὶς ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἐνδέδεικται (‘has suffered endeixis twice in the same ’). This is the manuscript text, as printed by Carey. The majority of editors have been troubled by the absence of a noun from the phrase ν τ ατ (‘in the same’), and have accepted an emendation originally proposed by Reiske (1770–75.v: 227n. 89), who suggested reading ν τ ατ <νιαυτ> (‘in the same year’); this is palaeographically neat, because νιαυτ could easily have been omitted by haplography following ν τ ατ. The manuscript reading, on the other hand, is perfectly idiomatic in Greek, which in this type of phrase can happily elide an obvious word such as ‘in the same ’:19 such an interpretation would indeed have similar implications juridically to Reiske’s emendation, since both entail a previous trial by endeixis, which would have been heard in a dikastic court. The two-trial hypothesis, with or without the emendation, is accepted by Schneider (1901: 362) and Begodt (1914: 10) among interpreters, and by the translators Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 100), Lamb (1930: 131), FernándezGaliano (1953: 123), and Medda (1989–95.i: 209). But the manuscript text could also be read by supplying ‘’ (ago¯n), and interpreting dis as meaning ‘on two charges’: i.e. not just entering sanctuaries in c.400, but also putting the suppliant’s bough on the altar (for which cf. p. 406 above). The arguments in 19 For ν τ ατ as acceptable idiom, Thalheim (1913 [1901]: 63) cites the identical phrase in Lys. 20.35, where the speaker’s point is presumably that the father will take no pleasure in his sons’ company nor the sons in each others’, despite their being ‘in the same place’ (or alternatively, that the sons will do this ‘on the same basis’).

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favour of this view are set out by MacDowell (1962: 62), who notes that any version of the two-trials hypothesis raises a fundamental problem: Andokides would surely have mentioned a previous acquittal, while a conviction would have obviated the need for a second prosecution since endeixis normally entailed a capital charge. The only external evidence to support the two-trials hypothesis is that Harpokration s.v. ze¯te¯te¯s cites the word as coming not from ‘Andokides, On the Mysteries’ (where it appears at 1.14) but from ‘Andokides, On the Endeixis’ (for a detailed reconstruction of this as a separate speech, see Hansen 1976: no. 9 at p. 128). The titles of speeches in the lexicographers, however, are not always consistent, even in Harpokration, who cites Dem. 50 once as ‘Against Polykles concerning the epitrie¯rarkhe¯ma (extended trierarkhy)’ (s.v. epogdoon), but variously both as ‘Against Polykles’ without a subject (s.vv. Maroneia, Perithoidai), and as ‘Concerning the epitrie¯rarkhe¯ma’ without a name (s.v. epibate¯s), and also repeatedly as ‘Concerning the trie¯rarkhe¯ma (trierarkhy)’ (s.vv. deigma, eph’ hieron, site¯resion, strume¯, trie¯rarkhe¯ma). On this basis, my inclination is to follow MacDowell, and read the passage as a reference to two charges at the present trial. §31. ἡ δὲ οὐσία αὐτοῦ ἐλάττων . . . γίγνεται (‘his property is becoming diminished’). It is interesting that no attempt is made to argue that his oikos is disappearing physically, even though Andokides himself (1.149) claims to be the last of his family, and therefore presumably to have no son. (His part in the story of Epilykos’ daughters, 1.117–121, implies that he was unmarried at the time of the trial, but does not rule out the possibility of a previous marriage.) Wealth is of course a relative concept, and Andokides was rich enough to organise a consortium of tax-farmers shortly before the trial (1.134), and to undertake the various liturgies (for which see 3.47n) that are listed at 1.132. On all this, and the question of whether his family property was conﬁscated in 415, see Davies (1971: no. 828, at p. 31). τοῦτ’ ἔστι τὸ ζῆν βίον ἀβίωτον (‘this is to live a life that is not worth living’). The verb zo¯ here denotes simply the fact of being alive (‘properly of animal life’, LSJ s.v.), but there is an untranslatable play on words in the noun bios, which can mean both ‘manner of living’ (as here) and also ‘livelihood’ (in the temporal clause). οὐκ ἐπὶ σωτηρίᾳ . . . ἀλλὰ τιµωρούµενος . . . (‘not as a way of preserving him, but as punishment . . .’), lit. ‘on the basis of safety’, and ‘while punishing’. §32. τῷ µὴ ἀδικεῖν (‘in not being guilty’), lit. ‘in the fact of <somebody’s> not doing wrong’, so possibly ‘in your not harming him’. ἥµισυς ὁ βίος βιῶναι κρείττων ἀλύπως (‘half a life is better to live free from pain’). Once again (as at §§19–20, to which the argument here harks back), there is a parallel with the idea at Lys. frag. 195 Against Kinesias §§3–4 that constant suffering is sent by the gods as a slow punishment for impiety. To describe Andokides’

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sufferings as a living death in the same terms as Kinesias’ chronic illness may seem far-fetched, but it may indicate the prevalence in popular thinking of the view that this is what ought to occur. For the idea that early death can be a welcome respite at least from the risks of subsequent suffering, cf. perhaps Hdt. 1.31.3 with 1.32.2 (Solon to Croesus).

§§33–34: Andokides’ Political Ambitions since 403 §33. παρασκευάζεται τὰ πολιτικὰ πράττειν. . . (‘he is contriving to pursue a political career’).20 The negative connotations of paraskeuazomai and its cognate noun paraskeue¯ (typically denoting the mischievous preparations of an enemy) are discussed at 1.42n (verb) and at 3.2n (noun). Of the verbs used here to denote particular facets of Andokides’ political activity, the most difﬁcult is epitimao¯, which with some uncertainty I have translated as ‘make accusations’: it is used to signify ‘blaming’ or ‘censuring’ (LSJ s.v. II), though it is not a normal word to denote accusation by a prosecutor in a law court. Less uncertain but more striking is apodokimazo¯ (‘to challenge at a dokimasia’), which would be an unusual thing to highlight, except that in the period 403–380 the dokimasia seems temporarily and for special reasons to have become a political battleground.21 Less complicated are de¯me¯goreo¯ (‘to deliver public speeches’, normally in front of the Assembly), and sumbouleuo¯ (lit. ‘give advice’), which here signiﬁes speaking in front of the Boule¯ (on the connotations of these two terms here, see Ober 1989: 106–107). It is possible that Andokides’ entry into the council-chamber is as Bouleute¯s at the start of the year (not listed in Develin 1989), but it may also denote appearance at a particular day’s or days’ debate to speak as a non-member (for the possibility of being invited to do this, see Rhodes 1972: 42). Note that all these verbs are in the present tense with e¯de¯ (lit. ‘already’), presumably to indicate attempted or continuous actions. περὶ θυσιῶν καὶ προσόδων καὶ εὐχῶν καὶ µαντειῶν (‘about sacriﬁces, processions, prayers, and oracles’). Taken on its own, prosodoi could signify ‘revenues’ as well as ‘(religious) processions’, but the latter ﬁts better the rest of the list. It is possible that Andokides in speaking to the Boule¯ really had conﬁned his attention to religious matters: such matters were politically important, and it might make sense for him to claim this type of expertise particularly if he really was a member of the genos Ke¯rukes (for this possibility, see p. 402 with n. 15 above). On the other hand the focus here on religion may reﬂect the speaker’s own predilections, and his feeling that Andokides should be excluded from this speciﬁcally; it also has the function of emphasising Andokides’ effrontery.

20 This statement may have implications for our interpretation of the claim that Andokides ‘makes speeches about the law’ (§9n). 21 Dokimasia is the process of scrutiny which was required before taking up a right or (in this case) a public ofﬁce. I have discussed elsewhere (Todd 1993: 285–291, and in more detail 1985: 117–28) the politicisation of dokimasia in the period 403–380 and its signiﬁcance for understanding the impact of the Amnesty of 403/2.

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§33–37

463

τούτῳ πειθόµενοι ποίοις θεοῖς ἡγήσεσθε κεχαρισµένα ποιεῖν (‘what sort of gods do you think you will be gratifying if you follow this man’s advice?’), lit. ‘being persuaded by this man will you expect to do what is pleasing to what gods?’ §34. πολιτεύεσθαι (‘to take part in the polis’). Underlying the sentiment here there may be the idea that the Amnesty of 403 should only have safeguarded the passive rights of former supporters of the oligarchs, rather than allowing them a fully active rôle in public life. This idea is not common in the ancient sources, but is sometimes deployed by modern scholars (as for instance by Cloché 1915: 387) as a way of side-stepping e.g. Lys. 26.9–10. αµα ἐξελεγχθήσεταί τε καὶ δώσει δίκην (‘he will be punished as soon as he is put on trial’), lit. ‘he will be tried and punished simultaneously’—though exelenkhomai denotes the process of testing or refutation, so perhaps ‘convicted’ rather than ‘tried’.

§§35–45: Four More Possible Defence Arguments Argument 1 (§§35–6): Beneﬁts allegedly resulting from his denunciation §35. ἀναγκαίως γὰρ ἔχει ὑµᾶς διδάσκειν (‘it is necessary to explain to you’). This justiﬁcation for the ‘I hear he will say’ topos works well as a way of introducing four potential defence arguments in succession (§§35–36, §§37–41, §42, and §§43–45). The topos has however already been deployed (see §13n), which suggests structural weakness in the speech. ἀπαλλάξας δέους (‘putting an end to the state of fear’). Andokides does make precisely this point, at 1.66, 68. §36. µισθὸν ὑµῶν αὐτῷ διδόντων τὴν αδειαν (‘you gave him immunity as his payment’), i.e. he deserves no further reward, cf. §43.

Argument 2 (§§37–41): The Amnesty of 403/2 §37. αἱ συνθῆκαι (‘the agreements’). One of the standard terms for the Amnesty of 403 is horkoi kai sunthe¯kai, ‘oaths and agreements’ (for which see e.g. Loening 1987: 20, though cf. the argument of Schneider, discussed at §38n). It is interesting that nothing is said about oaths in this paragraph until §39, in sharp contrast to Andokides’ account, which in general says very little about the Amnesty, but focuses when it does on oaths to the exclusion of agreements (1.90–91, cf. p. 407 above). Two arguments are deployed against Andokides’ possible appeal to the Amnesty—the uniqueness of Andokides’ crimes (discussed at §38n), and the Amnesty’s being between groups rather than individuals (at §39n)—and both are specious. There were other arguments that could have been used here, most notably that the alleged offence was committed not in 415 but in c.400: the fact that the speaker provides no very good argument against a possible defence based

464

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§37–39

on the Amnesty, whereas Andokides largely ignores the Amnesty in favour of a broader model of (possibly ﬁctitious) legal reform, may imply that Andokides had thought this through more clearly than the speaker (cf. p. 407 n. 32 above). §38. περί τούτου λέξω (‘on this point I shall argue’), or ‘explain’, lit. ‘say’. Another possibility is to read peri toutou (lit. ‘concerning this’) as ‘on the basis of what follows’. τῶν πρὸς Λακεδαιµονίους, ας ὑµεῖς συνέθεσθε (‘the ones with the Spartans, which you agreed’). There has been very little discussion of the meaning, let alone the signiﬁcance, of Spartans and agreements here and at §40. To my knowledge, the only exception is Schneider (1901: 363), who reads it as a reference to Spartan demands for the recall of exiles as part of the peace terms at the surrender of Athens in 404, but this is normally referred to as the eire¯ne¯ (‘peace’, e.g. Xen. Hell. 2.1.20–23), and it is difﬁcult at this period to read the term sunthe¯kai (for which cf. §37n) as signifying anything except the Amnesty of 403. But if that is the case, then we have here a rare acknowledgement by an Athenian orator of something that is a priori probable, but which our sources generally conspire to suppress: the importance of Sparta, in the person of King Pausanias, in brokering or imposing the Amnesty. The argument that possible Spartan reaction conditioned the behaviour both of those who wished to keep and of those who wished to break the Amnesty is developed in detail in Todd (1985: 176–200). οὔτε ὧν πρὸς τοὺς ἐν αστει οἱ ἐκ Πειραιῶς (‘nor the ones which those from Peiraieus agreed with those in the astu’). Standard terminology for the democratic counter-revolutionaries of 403 (‘those from Phyle’ or ‘from Peiraieus’) on the one hand, and their former oligarchic opponents on the other (here ‘those in the astu’ [i.e. Athens itself], or more commonly ‘those from the astu’ or ‘those who remained in the astu’). Here the language implies that it is a concession from the former to the latter, though the language at §39 (‘for the sake of [both groups]’) is more careful not to patronise the former oligarchs. οὐδενὶ γὰρ ἡµῶν . . . ἦν (‘none of us had committed’), lit. ‘to none of us was there’. Logically weak, unless it is an attempt to suggest that certain categories of offence are outside the competence of an Amnesty to remit (but the only such category mentioned in the Amnesty agreement itself was direct homicide, Ath.Pol. 39.5). §39. οὐ γὰρ ἕνεκα ἑνὸς ἀνδρὸς ἀλλ’ ἕνεκα ἡµῶν (‘it was not for the sake of one man, but for the sake of us’). This is a rather muddled version of an argument used on several occasions in the corpus in order to evade the Amnesty: that as an agreement between democratic and oligarchic partisans, it only protects members of one or other group (here and at Lys. 31.8, 14); or even, in the cleverest form of the argument (Lys. 13.88–90), that it only protects members of one group from actions brought by members of the other group. For repetition to be worthwhile, such arguments have to be superﬁcially plausible, at least to those members of the jury who are looking for excuses to ignore the Amnesty, but the plausibility breaks down when one looks at the wording of the Amnesty agreement as quoted

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§39–42

465

in Ath.Pol. 39, which says nothing about members of such groups being either the parties to the agreement or its sole beneﬁciaries. §40. ἀλλὰ Λακεδαιµόνιοι γάρ (‘somebody may claim that the Spartans’). If my reading of the Spartan dimension (see §38n) is accepted, then in most cases it will have been strategically dangerous to remind the audience about this, because nobody likes being told about the real limits on their freedom of decision. Here, however, the failure to answer the question is tactically rather clever, because it allows Andokides to be presented as a benefactor of Sparta without having to argue the case, while focusing on his alleged failure to beneﬁt Athens. ἀντὶ ποίας εὐεργεσίας (‘in return for what sorts of benefactions’). There were of course benefactions towards Athens that Andokides could cite, and does, especially in Andok. 2.11–12, 2.17–23. §41. ἐάν τις ἕνεκα τῶν δηµοσίων συµϕορῶν ἰδίᾳ τινὰ τιµωρῆται (‘if somebody is punished in some way as an individual because of public disasters’). A very restrictive reading of the Amnesty, which would apparently limit its application to cases like that of e.g. Adeimantos, surviving General at Aigospotamoi in 405, who seems to have been prosecuted in 393/2 for losing the battle (thus Hansen 1975: no. 68 at p. 87).

Argument 3 (§42): The position of Kephisios the chief prosecutor §42. ἴσως οὖν καὶ Κηϕισίου ἀντικατηγορήσει (‘so perhaps he will accuse Kephisios as well’). As part of his attack on the legal position of several of the prosecutors, Andokides claims at 1.92–93 that but for the Amnesty of 403/2, Kephisios (for whom cf. p. 401 above) would have been liable to prosecution for defaulting on a public contract. The ineptness of the speaker’s admission here, and its possible implications for the relationship between speech and trial, are discussed at pp. 405–406 and at p. 408 above. τῇ αὐτῇ ψήϕῳ (‘in the same ballot’). An acknowledgement of a central feature of Athenian adversarial justice, that the jury’s decision was between two individuals, not between the defendant and the ideally just citizen (some implications of this are explored in Todd 1993: 160–163). There may be a distant allusion here to the principle that every defendant is entitled to be voted on separately,22 but the phrase ‘the same ballot’ is used also by Athenian Orators seeking to persuade the court to set a good example by severely punishing the defendant (e.g. Lys. 27.3; 30.23; for the topos, see Lanni 2004: 166–168). ἡµῶν ἑκάστῳ (‘for each one of us’). There may be some level of admission here, if the speaker is either Epikhares (whose legal position is attacked in Andok. 22 A principle that was notoriously breached both at the Arginousai trial of 407/6 under the democracy (the account in Xen. Hell. 1.7.13–34, contains two occurrences each of the phrases G ατD ψ8φο ‘the same ballot’ and µα ψ8φο ‘a single ballot’) and also by the Thirty in their mass execution of the men of Eleusis (Lys. 12.52).

466

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§42–44

1.95–101) or more likely Meletos (similarly but in less detail at 1.94). But the ‘us’ is very vague, and could be read simply as ‘each of those human beings . . .’.

Argument 4 (§§43–45): The effect on potential future informers §43. ἔχει τὰ µήνυτρα (‘has had his informer’s reward’), lit. ‘has’, but in the sense that he ‘retains’. For the term me¯nutra, cf. Andok. 1.40 and Thuc. 6.27.2, in both cases denoting a reward promised by public proclamation. In the event, Andokides does not put forward this argument: the implications of this for the relationship between trial and speech are discussed at p. 406 with n. 29 above, and the rebuttal of arguments which your opponent may not make is considered at §13n. παραβὰς τὰ δόγµατα καὶ τὴν αδειαν (‘he has broken the immunity decree’). Hendiadys, lit. ‘the decree and the immunity’. Hendiadys is not very common in the corpus, but there are two further examples in this paragraph (§44 πονηρο . . . κα α2σεβε;, ‘impious criminals’, and §45 πονηρ*τερο κα α2µαθ στερο ‘more of an insane criminal’). The use of dogma (pl. dogmata) to denote a decree is discussed by Hansen (1987: 69 n. 2 = 1989: 277 n. 32), who considers it a vaguer term than the usual word pse¯phisma. Such vagueness would perhaps ﬁt what seems to be an attempt here to conﬂate two enactments: the original grant of immunity, and the decree of Isotimides which restricted its application. §44. ἡγούµενοι ἀποδηµοῦντες µὲν ̓Αθηναῖοι καὶ ἐπίτιµοι δόξειν εἶναι (‘they realise that they are regarded as Athenians with full citizen rights when they are away from Athens’). For epitimos (one who has the full honour of a citizen, i.e. is not atimos or deprived of citizen rights), see §13n. The phrase ‘making those who are atimoi into epitimoi’ is used on several occasions by the early orators in the context of the Amnesty of 403/2, to describe either the Amnesty agreement itself (Lys. 25.27) or else the accompanying processes of reconciliation (Andok. 1.73). To claim that such restoration of rights should be limited in its scope is not unparalleled, particularly in speeches involving dokimasia (for which see §33n) and the holding of public ofﬁce: thus for instance the speaker of Lys. 26.2–3 distinguishes by implication between the more passive political rights of sitting on juries (dikazein) and attending the Assembly (ekkle¯siazein), which he is prepared to concede to former supporters of the oligarchy, and the right to hold ofﬁce (arkhein), which in his view should be restricted; while another speaker propounds the doctrine that the qualiﬁcation for membership of the Boule¯ should be not simply the fact of being a citizen, but commitment to a particular view of citizenship.23 But I am not aware of any parallels to the claim here that the restoration of Athenian citizen rights should apply only in dealings with foreign communities (i.e. should convey no political rights whatever within Athens itself). 23 Lys. 31.5: τοZ πρ τ εjναι πολτα κα πιθυµο'ντα το$του (‘those who in addition to being citizens are also desirous of this’); his particular charge against Philon is that the latter went into exile in 404/3 rather than taking part in the Civil War (sc. on the democratic side, 31.8–13).

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§44–45

467

πονηροί . . . καὶ ἀσεβεῖς (‘impious criminals’), lit. ‘criminal and impious men’. For the hendiadys, cf. §43n. §45. Βάτραχος (‘Batrakhos’). Not a very common name (twelve individuals in LGPN Attica). Kirchner 1901–3.i: no. 2843 identiﬁes him convincingly with the Batrakhos who is named as one of two leading informers at Lys. 12.48, and plausibly with the subject of Lys. frag. sp. XXX On the Death of Batrakhos, and with a man of the same name attested in Arkhippos’ comedy Fishes, performed soon after 403/2 (Arkhippos frag. 27, cf. for the date Kassel & Austin 1983–.ii: 542). The Arkhippos fragment is a parody of a treaty, in which various people with water-related names (batrakhos means ‘frog’) are handed over, and Batrakhos himself is described as ‘the paredros (which ought to denote an Arkhon’s assessor, cf. Ath. Pol. 56.1), the one from Oreos (the former Athenian kleroukhy at Histiaia in Euboia)’. Kassel & Austin (1983–.ii: 547) reject the identiﬁcation of Arkhippos’ Batrakhos with Lys. 6’s informer, apparently on the grounds that the latter was no longer present in Athens to be mentioned by Arkhippos, but Lys. 6 does indicate that the informer was a ﬁgure of interest, however short-lived, and I wonder whether the phrase ‘the one from Oreos’ may denote not birth-place but current residence. The title of the Lysias fragment is also interesting, if both identiﬁcations are accepted, because it implies he may have been short-lived in another sense, and the present passage makes it sound as if there were people at Athens who would willingly see him assassinated. καθάπερ τοῖς Ἐλευσινόθεν (‘just as they did to those from Eleusis’). The reference is to former supporters of the oligarchy unwilling to remain in Athens, for whom Eleusis had been set up by the Amnesty of 403/2 as a refuge, and in effect as an independent state, with the Mysteries being the only occasion on which members of one community could enter the other (Ath.Pol. 39.1–4). Eleusis was forcibly reincorporated by Athens in 401/0 (Ath.Pol. 40.4), and although Xenophon represents this as the result of oligarchic provocation (Hell. 2.4.43), there is clear epigraphic evidence, in the shape of a set of stelai ﬁrmly dated to 402/1 recording the sale of the conﬁscated property of the Thirty and the Ten,24 for a previous and gratuitous breach by the Athenians of the Amnesty provision (Ath.Pol. 39.1) allowing the oligarchs to retain their property. It is difﬁcult to be sure how the jury would react to the mention of ‘those from Eleusis’ in a case involving the Eleusinian Mysteries taking place within a year or two of the reincorporation of Eleusis, but there may be a pejorative or at least patronising tone here, which might have negative implications for perceptions of the Amnesty in this period. καὶ πονηρότερος καὶ ἀµαθέστερος (‘more of an insane criminal’), lit. ‘more criminal and more insane.’ For the hendiadys, cf. again §43n. 24 These inscriptions were identiﬁed and edited by Walbank (1982); a fractionally more conservative text but with some additional suggestions in the apparatus is printed by Langdon (1991: no. P.2). They have been discussed e.g. by Krentz (1982: 51, 123) and by Loening (1987: 64–67), though the breach of the Amnesty has not been emphasised by scholars.

468

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§45–47

σωθῆναι (‘to have been spared’). I take the point of the aorist here to be a reference to a one-off incident in the past: i.e. that Andokides has received his immunity decree, but should now be punished for having abused it.

§§46–49: Rebuttal of Andokides’ Benefactions as Possible Reason for Acquittal §46. οὐδεπώποτ’ ἐκ τῆς πόλεως ἐστρατεύσατο (‘he has never gone out on campaign from the polis’). A good rhetorical point, which is why the catalogue of possible military responsibilities is so extended; but given Andokides’ circumstances, his failure to undertake them is hardly surprising. Assuming that Andokides is now in his early forties (cf. next-but-one note), he will have reached adulthood in the late 420s, and he was in exile from 415 to 403. Given that Athens was not engaged in full-scale warfare at any time during the period from 422 to 415 and again from 403 to 395, there may well have been little military service that he could have done. For the various forms of military service listed here, see Van Wees (2004: 47–60 [hoplites], 65–68 [cavalry], 209–210 [trierarkhs], and 210–211 [marines]). For the trierarkhy, see 3.47n. οὔτε πρὸ τῆς συµϕορᾶς οὔτε µετὰ τὴν συµϕοράν (‘neither before the disaster nor after the disaster’). The word sumphora (disaster), sometimes in conjunction with dustukhia (misfortune), is regularly used in the corpus to denote events surrounding the battle of Aigospotamoi and the surrender of Athens: the identiﬁcation is on occasions made more or less explicit (Lys. 2.58; 12.43; 16.4; 21.9), and indeed is so common that it is easy to see Aigospotamoi underlying other uses of the word in public contexts (e.g. Lys. 7.6; 13.43; 14.16; 18.2; 25.4, 26; 30.3; 34.1). On the use of euphemism and the language of ‘misfortune’ as a feature of Athens’ reaction to defeat and surrender, see Lévy (1976: 40–42). Contemporary orators never mention Aigospotamoi by name (the sole exception even in the later orators is Dem. 26.11, the authenticity of which is not unchallenged); perhaps surprisingly, the Orators are much less hung up about Khaironeia, which is named on fourteen occasions (including such casual uses as Aiskhin. 1.55, and such explicit ones as Lyk. 1.16). πλέον ἢ τετταράκοντα ἔτη γεγονώς (‘even though he is more than forty years old’). This is now generally regarded as reliable evidence that Andokides was born at some time in the late 440s (thus e.g. Davies 1971: no. 828, at p. 30): the 468/7 date of birth claimed by Ps.-Plutarch, Life of Andokides, 835a9–10, is generally rejected, for reasons noted at p. 404 with n. 23 above. §47. ἕτεροι ϕεύγοντες ἐν Ἑλλησπόντῳ συνετριηράρχουν ὑµῖν (‘there were other exiles who served as joint Trierarkhs with you in the Hellespont’). The ‘exiles’ here are presumably those who like Andokides himself had been implicated in the scandals of 415, but who unlike him had returned to Athens. Given the mention of the Hellespont, the passage may possibly allude to the activities in 410/09 at e.g. Byzantion of the democratic ﬂeet under Alkibiades (implicated

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§47–49

469

in the affair of the Mysteries cf. Andok. 1.11); however, it is much more likely to refer to Aigospotamoi, where we know that at least one former exile served as General (Adeimantos, exiled in conjunction with the Mysteries according to Andok. 1.16, and mentioned repeatedly in the Attic Stelai),25 and another is plausibly to be identiﬁed with a client of Lysias who seems to have served as Trierarkh (Eryximakhos at frag.107 On Behalf of Eryximakhos, lines 100–104, if he is the same as the Eryximakhos denounced at Andok. 1.35).26 The compound in sun-etrie¯rarkhoun suggests the system of syntrierarkhy (joint trierarkhy), which became common after 411 as a way of sharing the ﬁnancial burden in a time of straitened circumstances.27 It is difﬁcult to see why the compound is used here so emphatically, unless it is designed to suggest either that the burden was less than it had previously been, or else that other people had been willing to tighten their belts. καὶ ἰδίᾳ καὶ δηµοσίᾳ (‘both individually and as a community’). This may denote on the one hand gifts from individual Athenians (and metics, like Lysias himself), and on the other hand gifts (presumably in secret, to avoid Spartan attention) from cities like Thebes which had sheltered the democratic counterrevolutionaries. But it is such a common pair of words that it may have little meaning here. §48. ἀπαθὴς τούτων τῶν κακῶν γενόµενος . . . εἰς τὴν σωτηρίαν τῇ πατρίδι (‘did not experience any of these sufferings . . . to saving the fatherland’). The lacuna is a short one, probably only a few words, e.g. ‘and did not contribute anything’. Like the short lacuna at §49n, it is marked as such apparently by the scribe of the Palatinus: there is no obvious connection with the (subsequent) loss of the missing folio at §§49–50, for which see p. 408 with n. 37 above. µετέχειν τῆς πόλεως (‘have a share in the polis’). Standard idiom for ‘be a citizen’. Some implications of the metaphor are discussed in Todd (1993: 182–183). πλουτῶν . . . καὶ δυνάµενος τοῖς χρήµασι (‘wealthy, and powerful in his possessions’). Herman (1987: 35 n. 77) sees this passage as a ‘maliciously inverted’ response to Andok. 1.145. The topos of the opponent’s wealth is discussed in a broader context by Ober (1989: 226). §49. ποίαν εἰσϕορὰν . . . τούτῳ ἀγαθὸν γένοιντο (‘what eisphora . . . they might do good to this <man>’). The lacuna is again a short one (cf. last note but two), 25 Once in stele 2, six times in stele 6, and three times in stele 10 (IG i3, 422.190; 426.9, 42, 105, 140, 184, 189; 430.2, 9, 26). 26 The ﬁrst editor’s reading at frag.107 On Behalf of Eryximakhos, lines 105–106 (κ. τν µ. .ν τριηρα´[ρχ]ω . .ν, i.e. ‘ransomed one of my Trierarkhs’, Roberts 1938: 107), would indeed mean that he would have had to be a General at Aigospotamoi, since no subordinate naval commanders between General and Trierarkh are known; but many other restorations have been suggested. 27 The earliest attested syntrierarkhy is Lys. 32.24, 26 (a speech dated c.400, referring to events between 410 and 404).

470

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §49

probably only a few words, e.g. ‘or any other thing did he contribute of a sort that’. ἐν πολλῷ σάλῳ (‘in a condition of considerable disruption’ [lit. “sea-swell”]’). The metaphor is that of the ship of state, ﬁrst attested in Alcaeus, frag. 326 Lobel & Page. It is much more vivid than most of the few metaphors in the corpus— Büchler (1936: 20–21) ﬁnds a total of only 29 examples in the fourteen speeches he discusses—and has particular resonance when used against a defendant who has made money in maritime trade. For the use of poetic vocabulary and imagery in this speech, see p. 409 with n. 40 above. ἐτολµήσεν . . . ἐπαρθείς (‘he did not have the courage, motivated ’). The text is not grammatically impossible, but the participle on its own adds little to the verb. Carey’s OCT apparatus notes various suggested supplements: e.g. ‘by proﬁt’ (Reiske) and ‘by hope of immunity’ (Francken). σῖτον εἰσάγων (‘importing grain’). Given Andokides’ claim to have supplied timber (2.11) and his implied promise that he will be able to inﬂuence the supply of grain (2.21), this may be a speciﬁc allegation that he failed to fulﬁl that promise. µέτοικοι µὲν καὶ ξένοι (‘metics [i.e. resident aliens] and foreigners’, or possibly Lamb’s hendiadys ‘resident aliens from abroad’). A fortiori, presumably: if even metics did this, then a citizen like Andokides certainly should have done so. Throughout the corpus, there is a strong emphasis on the extent to which metics have fulﬁlled their duties, both positively to obey the law (22.5) and to undertake their liturgies (12.20: for liturgies, see 3.47n), and also negatively to refrain from the sorts of activity that would make enemies among the citizens (12.20 again; frag. 170 Defence Against Hippotherses, lines 175–181). Lysias was of course himself a metic, but very similar ideological statements are found throughout Athenian literature: see Whitehead (1977: e.g. 37, on the depiction of Parthenopaios in Euripides’ Suppliants). ὦ Ἀνδοκίδη (‘Andokides’). To use the vocative as a means of addressing the opponent (rather than simply the court, for which cf. 1.1n) by name is a characteristic of prosecution speeches, and often a sign that the speaker wishes to be confrontational: other examples in the corpus are found at 10.8; 10.16; 12.32; 13.26; 13.32; 30.5; and 30.19. Vocatives which are addressed to the opponent other than by name include 10.18 (o β λτιστε: patronising) and 12.26 (o σχετλι=τατε πα´ντων: hostile). The equivalent use of the vocative in defence speeches is much less common, but is found at 7.20, perhaps as part of a technique of patronising the much younger and less experienced prosecutor. ποῖα ἁµαρτήµατα ἀνακαλεσάµενος (‘what sort of crimes have you remedied’), lit. ‘called back’, but it is by no means clear what is being referred to here. ποῖα τροϕεῖα ἀνταποδούς. . . (‘what sort of nourishment have you repaid. . .’). The lacuna here is a long one, because a folio has dropped out of the manuscript,

6. Against Andokides: Commentary §§49–51

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leaving a gap of some 400–575 words (cf. p. 408 with n. 37 above). Given the loose structure of this speech, it may be idle to speculate what was in it (for one possibility, see p. 406 above). All we can say is that when the speech resumes at §50, we are on to an entirely new subject.

§§50–53: The Seriousness of the Profanation of the Mysteries §50. ἑορτῆς (‘festival’), cf. §4n. δι’ ἣν ὑπὸ τῶν πολλῶν προὐτιµήθητε (‘on account of which you received special honour at the hands of many people’). ‘The Mysteries were, and are, the most famous Greek festival’ (Parker 2005: 327). καταπλῆγες (‘amazed’). Cited (in the singular form kataple¯x) by Harpokration s.v.: for other lexicographical testimonia, see §1n and §53n. §51. ἐνδὺς στολὴν µιµούµενος τὰ ἱερὰ ἐπεδείκνυ τοῖς ἀµυήτοις (‘put on a robe, imitating the sacred rites, and displayed them to those who were not initiates’). For the view that what is being described here is a performance not a parody, and that the offence therefore lies in its being done in the wrong context and in front of non-initiates, see Murray (1990: 155). The stole¯ was the special robe worn by the Hierophante¯s and the Dadoukhos (Clinton 1974: 32–33); here the use of epideiknumi (to display) suggests that it is the Hierophante¯s (cf. the etymology ‘displayer of sacred things’) that Andokides is accused of impersonating. (W. Vollgraff 1950: 122 reads στολDν , but unnecessarily.) The indictment quoted by Plutarch (Alkib. 22.4, cf. next note but three) claims that Alkibiades had played this rôle, with Poulytion as Dadoukhos, but there is no necessary conﬂict, because profanation appears to have taken place on several occasions (Thuc. 6.28.1, cf. the four denunciations reported in Andok. 1.11–18). καὶ εἶπε τῇ ϕωνῇ τὰ ἀπόρρητα (‘he spoke out loud the words which must not be spoken’). We know little about the ritual of the Mysteries (for suggestions, see Mylonas 1961: 261–274; Parker 2005: 342–360), but it evidently included liturgical words as well as actions. For the idea that words spoken in certain contexts may take on the status of impious actions, see Todd (1993: 311). The word aporrhe¯ta in the present passage clearly has the implied qualiﬁcation, ‘things which must not be spoken <except in the proper context of the Mysteries ritual>’); in the non-religious sphere, however, the term embraces also certain insulting phrases which are statutorily deﬁned as defamatory, which form the subject of Lys. 10. τῶν δὲ θεῶν, οὕς . . . (‘those of the gods whom’), lit. ‘of the gods, he mutilated those whom we worship . . .’. The reference is clearly to the Mutilation of the Herms, but the genitive is odd, because it ought to suggest that worshipful and mutilated gods comprise a subset of all gods, and therefore that the gods who were left unmutilated do not deserve worship.

472

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ἱέρειαι καὶ ἱερεῖς στάντες κατηράσαντο πρὸς ἑσπέραν καὶ ϕοινικίδας ἀνέσεισαν (‘priestesses and priests stood facing the west and cursed him, shaking out their purple robes’). For curses proclaimed by representatives of the community, see Parker (1983: 193–196). If Andokides really was the named subject of a public curse, rather than being (in the speaker’s view) implicated in a general imprecation, then that would imply that the decree of Isotimides was not the only ofﬁcial attempt to undermine his immunity. Certainly Alkibiades seems to have been the subject of a curse directed against him speciﬁcally (Plut. Alkib. 22.5), and from the fact that it was the Eumolpidai and Ke¯rukes who were later ordered to undo this curse (Plut. Alkib. 33.3), Clinton (1974: 16 n. 31) rightly infers that it had been sworn by priests and priestesses of the Eleusinian cult. Whether the purple robes were distinctive to these particular priestesses and priests (as Clinton maintains at 1974: 33) is less certain; Rohde (1925: 192 n. 61) links the colour to chthonic cult, and suggests that the costumes in question are worn speciﬁcally for cursing. Non-verbal aspects of public curse ritual are not particularly well attested, but westward-facing may be linked to the sunset, and is reminiscent of the practice of sacriﬁcing to gods in the morning but to heroes in the evening or at night (Rohde 1925: 140 n. 9).28 κατὰ τὸ νόµιµον τὸ παλαιὸν καὶ ἀρχαῖον (‘according to ancient and ancestral custom’). One of several close parallels between this sentence and the indictment brought by Thessalos against Alkibiades (as quoted by Plut. Alkib. 22.4, cf. last note but three): both mention the stole¯, both use the verb deiknumi/ epideiknumi, and both speak of nomima (custom), a word which is cognate with nomos (law/custom) but which in this context serves both to recall the rhetoric of law as something ancestral and unchangeable (cf. §8n) and also to privilege the unwritten rules of the cult ahead of the written statutes of the polis (cf. §10n). ὡµολόγησε δὲ οὗτος ποιῆσαι (‘this man has admitted that he did this’). On one level a very speciﬁc allegation, on another a very vague one, because as Marr (1971: 335–336) points out, the speaker does not make explicit whether it refers to both impieties, or simply to the last-mentioned one (i.e. the Mutilation of the Herms). Andokides’ own version, at this trial at least, was that he had some knowledge of the mutilation without having himself taken part in it, but no connection whatever with the profanation. §52. ἔτι δὲ παρελθὼν τὸν νόµον ὃν ὑµεῖς ἔθεσθε (‘in addition he transgressed the law which you established’). On the use of the word nomos (law) to describe the decree of Isotimides, see §9n. (Given that the decree of Isotimides was passed before the establishment of nomothesia in 403, this passage cannot in my view

28 I am not aware of any Classical Greek evidence for the shaking-out of robes, though shaking the dust off feet is well attested in the New Testament (e.g. Matt. 10:14, Acts 13:51).

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sustain the inference of Hansen [1974: 15 with n. 3] that ‘you’ equates nomothetai with dikastai.) ὡς ἀλιτήριον ὄντα (‘as unclean’). Alite¯rios (for which cf. Furley 1996: 112–114, cited at §19n) is more speciﬁcally cultic than Lamb’s ‘reprobate’. ἔθυσεν ἐπὶ τῶν βωµῶν (‘has sacriﬁced on the altars’). Not apparently an allusion to the charge of placing a suppliant’s branch on the altar (cf. Andok. 1.110–116), but one of a series of cultic actions which would be proper for anybody else, but from which Andokides is banned, according to the speaker, by the decree of Isotimides. §53. ποῖον ϕίλον, ποῖον συγγενῆ, ποῖον δηµότην (‘what sort of friend or relative or deme-member’). The ﬁrst two terms in this sequence are obvious categories of personal link with those from whom you would expect favours, with a particular thrust at Andokides for his alleged betrayal of his friends. The third term in the manuscript is dikaste¯n (juror), but Blass (1887: 569 n. 6; not in 1868 edn.) tentatively suggested emending this to de¯mote¯n (deme-member), presumably on the grounds that jurors are not a natural development for a sequence beginning with friends and relatives, and this emendation has been generally accepted by editors, including Carey.29 But there is no obvious reason why favours done by friends, relatives, and deme-members should be kept hidden (unless the implication is that they should be embarrassed to be linked to him), whereas there is a clear contrast between the secrecy of the jurors’ ballot, and a vote for acquittal in which the gods will know how each individual has voted: so although I have followed Carey’s text in my translation, I am inclined tentatively to prefer the manuscript reading. ϕαρµακὸν ἀποπέµπειν (‘expelling the scapegoat’).30 For the pharmakos ritual, and various categories of ceremonial cleansing, see Parker (1983: 259) and Bremmer (2000 [1983]: esp. 273 [Athens] and 285–290 [expulsion rather than death]). The ritual appears to have taken place at the Thargelia festival in early summer (Bremmer (2000 [1983]: 291–292), whereas Andokides’ trial occurred after the Eleusinian Mysteries a clear four months later, so there is no obvious topical reason for presenting him in these terms. ὡς ἓν τούτων (‘one of those’). This presumably means ‘an example of each group’ (i.e. pharmakos and alite¯rios), rather than ‘take your pick’.

29

Also by Thalheim, Hude, Fernández-Galiano, Albini, though not by Gernet & Bizos. The lexicographical tradition (refs. in Carey 2007: 66) makes rather a meal of the word. The clearest is Harpokration, for whom the word in this passage (he is the only one to give the title of the speech) denotes a scapegoat, with some account of the ritual, but is also a proper name in what appears to be an aetiological myth, and he adds a discussion of how it should be accented. The Souda has broadly the same material but inverts the order, thereby implying that the proper name is used in this passage, which is clearly wrong. This version appears also in the Etymologicum Magnum, though with further emphasis resulting from the omission of the scapegoat ritual. 30

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§§54–55: Conclusion (of sorts): The Advice of Diokles §54. ∆ιοκλῆς ὁ Ζακόρου τοῦ ἱεροϕάντου (‘Diokles, son of the Hierophante¯s Zakoros). The use of genitives and nominatives makes the family relationships clearer in the Greek than it is easy to render in a ﬂuent translation: Diokles is the speaker’s grandfather, and it is Diokles whose advice is quoted, but it is Zakoros who was the Hierophante¯s. Neither of these individuals is otherwise known, though Diokles is a very common name (238 individuals in LGPN Attica) whereas Zakoros is a very rare one (two individuals in LGPN Attica, but the dates prevent identiﬁcation). We can safely infer (Clinton 1974: 10 with n. 3) that Diokles was not Hierophante¯s like his father, or the speaker would undoubtedly have said so: on the selection for this post, see Aleshire (1994: 330), who suggests that it was by lot from a pre-elected group within the genos Eumolpidai. The speaker is clearly connected with the genos, but not necessarily himself a member, because Diokles may have been his mother’s father, and membership seems to have been transmitted in the male line. His link with the Eumolpidai, however, may have been one of the factors which made him useful to the prosecution, because it allowed the implication that both the Eumolpidai (as here) and also the Ke¯rukes (as represented by Kallias, cf. p. 402 with n. 13 above) were combined in their opposition to the defendant. συνεβούλυεσε (‘the advice which Diokles . . . gave’). Presumably a case of Eumolpid exegesis (for which cf. §10n), though we might perhaps have expected the verb exe¯geomai: Ostwald (1986: 189 n. 89) suggests that possibly Diokles was a member of the Boule¯ or appeared before it to testify. The fact that Diokles fulﬁlled this rôle even though he was not himself the Hierophante¯s is not necessarily signiﬁcant, if Oliver and Clinton (again, cf. §10n) are right to see exegesis in the ﬁfth century as the responsibility of the whole genos. Μεγαρεῖ ἀνδρὶ ἠσεβηκότι (‘a man from Megara who had committed impiety’). It is tempting to see this as a question of enforcing the Megarian decree or decrees (for which see variously Kagan 1969: 251–272; Ste Croix 1972: 225–289; D. M. Lewis 1992b: 376–378). For the dates to ﬁt, however, we would have to assume that the advice was delivered by Diokles as a fairly old man in the late 430s, and that the speaker is a fairly young man at the time of the present trial. ακριτον (‘without trial’). We know of at least one other religious case in which it was proposed that the defendant should in effect be executed without trial (Hierokles’ case as interpreted by Hansen 1976: no. 30 at pp. 139–140). Assuming that the Megarian was alleged to have broken the Megarian decrees, there might be political reasons for wanting a public trial, in order to give maximum publicity to Athens’ determination to impose the decrees (cf. following note). τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἕνεκα (‘for the sake of everybody else’), lit. ‘for the sake of human beings’, so perhaps ‘for the sake of all mankind’. Presumably the point is that the gods will be happy with an instant execution, but a trial will serve pour encourager les hommes.

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§55. ἀλλ’ οἱ ἀδίκως αξιοί εἰσιν ἐλεεῖσθαι (‘. . . but those who do so unjustly, who deserve your pity’). It is not clear whether this is hypothetical, or whether he has a particular unjust death in mind. For the link between pity and the spectacle of unjust suffering, see 3.8n.

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Lysias 7 Areiopagos Speech: Defence concerning the Se¯kos Introduction I. READERSHIP AND AUTHORSHIP This is again a case involving impiety, though the offence is of a rather different type from that in the two previous speeches:1 the speaker is accused of having in some way damaged the stump of an olive tree, one of an apparently large number which—although located on private land—was nevertheless sacred rather than private property. The case has attracted considerable interest both from ancient and from modern readers. Part of the reason for this, at least as far as the testimonia are concerned, is that ancient lexicographers tend to concentrate disproportionately on the explication of rare words: these include several terms that are fundamental to the interpretation of the speech,2 as well as others that are peripheral to it.3 What is less common, however, is the survival of a detailed critical discussion by an ancient reader. Lys. 7 is one of three speeches selected for such treatment in the Bibliothe¯ke¯ of Photios,4 who devotes to it a 230-word paragraph focusing on reasons for believing that this is a genuine work of Lysias. Among the issues covered are argumentative structure, brevity, and vivid description, and the 1 For the grouping of speeches especially in the ﬁrst part of the corpus on a loosely procedural basis, see pp. 21–22 above. The date of the alleged offence is discussed at pp. 480–481 below. 2 Moria and se¯kos (on which see pp. 485–487 below): the former receives a 90-word entry in the Souda, while the latter is the subject of slightly shorter and partly overlapping discussions in the Souda and in Harpokration, and also of an unrelated entry in Photios’ Lexicon (the latter, unlike the other three lexicographical entries mentioned so far, contains no explicit mention of this speech). References to these and other testimonia are collected in Carey’s OCT, and many of the texts themselves are printed though not translated in Fernández-Galiano (1953). 3 Epigno¯monas and aerkton are the subject of much briefer lexicographical entries, for which see §25n and §28n respectively. 4 Photios, Bibliothe¯ke¯, 489a14–b2 (Henry), translated in N. G. Wilson (1994: at 248–249). For Photios and the Bibliothe¯ke¯, see p. 9 above; for the other two speeches that he analyses in detail, see p. 34 above.

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discussion culminates with an attack on the rejection of the speech’s authorship by one Paul of Mysia, ‘who does not understand any of the things said’.5 As often, there is room for debate over the extent to which Photios is expressing his own views, as opposed to presenting without attribution those of one or more earlier critics: in this case, for instance, there is reason for believing that at least the ﬁrst part of the discussion may be derivative, since at 489a14 he glosses the term se¯kos in a way that would seem to make sense only in the Hellenistic period and to be anachronistic for Photios’ own Byzantine readership.6 But whatever the originality of Photios’ views here, the revelation that the status of the speech was controversial in antiquity is itself interesting, as is also the evidence that the passage provides for the ways in which such controversies could be argued. Paul of Mysia is only a name to us, but it is tempting to identify him with Paul of Germe¯, who is mentioned in the Souda as having written on Lysias apparently with a particular interest in authorship.7 If this identiﬁcation is accepted, however, we may suspect him of being something of a devotee of lost critical causes. The only detail that the Souda gives is that in addition to notes on other speeches of Lysias, he wrote a work in two books arguing for the genuineness of the one Concerning the Gifts to Iphikrates (Lys. frag. sp. XX), whereas Dionysios of Halikarnassos (On Lysias, §12) regards both the speeches for Iphikrates as demonstrably not the work of Lysias, on the grounds not simply of style but also because they were written some years after what he calculated as the date of Lysias’ death.8 Against this background of ancient controversy, it is perhaps surprising that the Lysianic authorship of the speech has not on the whole been challenged in the modern period, even by nineteenth-century scholars. In part this may be due to the authority not so much of Photios but of Harpokration, who cites it twice 5 Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 288) read this phrase as an allegation that Paul could not understand a word of Lysias’ speech, but in context the reference is more probably to the positive features of the speech as listed by Photios (thus e.g. Darkow 1917: 34 n. 2, R. Henry 1959–91.viii: 52, and N. G. Wilson 1994: 249). 6 Unless, as is pointed out by N. G. Wilson (1994: 248 n. 3), ν'ν here means ‘in this context’ (i.e. emphasising that se¯kos in this speech has an unusual meaning) rather than ‘now’. Even the nature of Photios’ relationship to Paul is contested: R. M. Smith (1992: 179–180) presents stylistic reasons for believing the attack on Paul at 488a35–b2 to be in Photios’ own words, while Heath (1998: 280–281) suggests that although Photios may be responsible for the phrasing, nevertheless his source for Paul’s name will have come at the start of the previous paragraph (489a15–34), a passage which R. M. Smith (1994) elsewhere suggests was copied by Photios from Kaikilios but which Heath himself regards as coming from Longinus’ presumed critique of Kaikilios. 7 Souda, s.v. Paulos Germe¯nos (= Lys. frag. 41c): Germe¯ was a polis within Mysia, which was the north-west region of Asia Minor. For the identiﬁcation with Paul of Mysia, and the suggestion that he is likely to have been writing later than Dionysios of Halikarnassos, see Heath 1998: 280–281. 8 For Dionysios’ verdict, see in more detail pp. 26–27 with n. 102 above. We do not of course know what Paul’s arguments may have been, and the two Iphikrates speeches are admittedly attributed without comment to Lysias by Ps.-Plutarch (Life of Lysias, 836d2-10). But as Carey points out in his discussion of the fragments of this speech (2007: 336), Aristotle twice refers to the speech in the Rhetoric in terms that suggest he thought it was the work of Iphikrates himself (Rhet. 1.7.32 = 1365a28 and 1.9.31 = 1367b17–18).

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with no hesitation over authorship.9 But it is the unusual nature of the subject matter that seems to have attracted particular attention from modern commentators.10 This is one of very few speeches in the Orators dealing with the practicalities of ancient agriculture, and the extent to which Athenian farming suffered during the latter stages of the Peloponnesian War. It provides valuable evidence also for the ideological rôle played by the olive in Athenian national mythology, and for its continuing place in Athenian religious law. Above all, perhaps, it is the disproportionate severity of the penalty which strikes the modern reader: why is the speaker facing exile and conﬁscation of property over an allegation of damage to a tree on his own land? To understand this, we need to set the religious signiﬁcance of the trial against its political and economic background.

II. RELIGION AND POLITICS It is a striking fact, and one which has been explored in a number of recent works, that religious prosecutions in the Attic Orators tend to have a political subtext.11 In part this may be because the type of people who are involved in the cases represented in our speeches are those wealthy enough to afford the services of a professional speech-writer, and men of this standing were disproportionately active in politics. Indeed, even political quiescence on the part of a rich Athenian could have political overtones. In the present case, for instance, although we know of no overt political activity by the unnamed and unidentiﬁable speaker—nor indeed do we know anything further about his named but unidentiﬁable opponent12—nevertheless the details of the speaker’s defence tell us a great deal about his circumstances.13 He is clearly a wealthy man: he has slaves to do his agricultural work (§§16–19, §§34–36), and could be represented as the type of

9 Harpok. s.v. se¯kos (quoting from §10) and s.v. epigno¯monas (found at §25), albeit with variations over the title. It is notable that Darkow’s comprehensive survey was able to ﬁnd no 19th-cent. attacks on the speech (Darkow 1917: 34). The only subsequent dissenting voices known to me are those of Usher & Najock (1982: 104), who reject the speech on the grounds of stylometric divergence, but this has not convinced Carey (1989: 118) or Medda (1989–95.i: 225). My own reservations over the methodology of Usher & Najock are set out at pp. 29–30 above. 10 Lys. 7 seems to have been particularly popular in the late 19th and early 20th cents. It is for instance the only one of the speeches in this volume to have received attention from more than one of the six US commentaries cited at p. 35 n. 135 above, ﬁve of which include it in their collections, placing it second in popularity (alongside Lys. 16 and Lys. 22) to Lys. 12. 11 For example, from a religious perspective Parker (1996a: 202), and from a legal one Todd (1993: 307–310). 12 The opponent is named Nikomakhos, but this is too common a name to permit identiﬁcation (see §20n). 13 Discussed by commentators (e.g. Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 115; M. H. Morgan, 1895: 5; Rauchenstein & Fuhr, 1899: 34–35; Carey, 1989: 14), and also in the ‘anonymous’ section of Davies (1971: no. D.15, p. 594).

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gentleman farmer who supervised his workforce (§19);14 the recently acquired property at the heart of this case is only one of his holdings (he has a plurality of others, §24);15 and he is indeed rich enough not simply to have contributed repeatedly to the eisphora, but also to have undertaken the khore¯gia and the trierarkhy, which were the most important of the various liturgies that were imposed as a form of compulsory public sponsorship on rich Athenians (all at §31).16 It is against this background that the speaker—who, as Carey emphasises, can hardly be a young man17—claims to have lived a politically inactive life, and indeed to have devoted his efforts to avoiding legal and political activity (§1). Such quietism could at all times be represented as a political virtue at Athens,18 and perhaps especially so in the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War. But we should be wary of accepting his claim at face value (as is done by e.g. Blass 1887 [1868]: 591). The speaker is at the very least tainted by his activities during the oligarchic revolution of 404/3. He is perhaps too quick to deny that he was powerful under the Thirty (§27), given that he clearly remained in Athens under their rule, and as Carey (1989: 133) points out, they evidently allowed him to retain his considerable property. Moreover, he is very keen to hide the compromising date at which he acquired the property in question (§4n and §9n). It would be useful to know the precise date of Lys. 7, as it would help us to interpret the speech if we knew what the level of feeling was at the time against former supporters of the oligarchy. Unfortunately, however, all we can say for certain is that the arkhonship of Souniades in 397/6 is clearly now ﬁnished (§11).

14 He is clearly neither an absentee landlord (cf. above) nor a working farmer (cf. his denial of the possible motive of penia, lit. ‘poverty’—i.e. having to work with his own hands—at §14), but is in some ways similar to Iskhomakhos in Xenophon’s Oikonomikos (who evidently lives in the city but visits his farmland on a daily basis, cf. Pomeroy 1994: 311). 15 None of these holdings need be particularly large, however, because rich Athenians seem to have preferred to retain multiple properties rather than to consolidate them (on this, see §28n). For the term kho¯rion (used throughout the speech to denote the speaker’s various properties) and my use of the translation ‘land/piece of land’, see §4n. 16 Incidentally, the reference to sea-battles in the plural (§41) implies that he may have been Trierarkh repeatedly as well. For these various liturgies, see 3.47n. 17 He is old enough to be able plausibly to claim repeated military (§41) as well as liturgical (§31) service, and to exploit the contrast with an opponent who is too young to have ﬁrst-hand knowledge of the events at issue (§29): Carey (1989: 114), noting that his mother is still alive (§41), suggests that his age is about 50. 18 Carter (1986) collects useful material on apragmosune¯ (quietism), but tends to conﬂate rhetoric with social reality, and underplays the extent to which conﬂicting political values can be admired simultaneously by the same people. The representation of apragmosune¯ at the heart of the characterisation in this speech is explored variously by Blass (1887 [1868]: 595, good on the speaker’s dismissive treatment of his opponent), Rauchenstein & Fuhr (1899: 34, underplaying his oligarchic sympathies), Devries (1892: 25–26, overplaying the linguistic arguments for alleged humble antecedents), Albini (1952a: 186–187, somewhat eccentrically classifying the speaker as a merchant), Usher (1965: 106–108, good on the linguistic ﬁgures, but tends to overplay the speaker’s alleged pusillanimity), and Carey (1989: 116–117, good on the argumentative function of the characterisation, as the sort of man who would not have made the sort of mistakes alleged by his opponents).

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The speaker himself claims that there has been excessive delay (τοσο$τ χρ*ν Hστερον, §42) following an alleged offence committed in that year, which at ﬁrst sight suggests a speech some years later (thus e.g. Jebb 1888 [1880]: 269). As Carey (1989: 114) points out, however, the speaker’s aim there is to suggest that delay is a mark of a dishonest prosecution, and he may therefore be exaggerating a delay of a year or two.19

III. POLITICS AND ECONOMICS The interplay between politics and economics is reﬂected in what the speech tells us about land-holding patterns, and the detailed history of one particular piece of land at a particularly interesting period (§§9–10). What is striking here is that the property in question has been leased over the seven-year period from 404/3 to 398/7 to four successive tenants, one of them a former slave.20 This seems a surprisingly rapid turnover, but it is hard to tell how far it represents a typical pattern, for two reasons. The ﬁrst is that the land in question has had an unusual political history, which links it closely to two of the disgraced former leaders of the oligarchy of the Four Hundred. Following the collapse of their régime in 411 bc, it had been conﬁscated from Peisander, and some time later given as a public reward to one of the assassins of his former colleague Phrynikhos (details at §§4nn Πεισα´νδρου and Απολλ*δωρο). Given this background, there could be ideological reasons from both directions for individuals wanting to own or to work this particular property: one might wish to do so either as a mark of sympathy with an oligarchic former owner, or because of its associations with a democratic former assassin. The second problem is that the present passage is our only detailed piece of literary evidence for leasing, and although we have a certain amount of epigraphical evidence (see generally R. G. Osborne 1988: 281–292; Walbank 1991: 149–169; Shipton 2000: 39–50), this is not strictly comparable because it normally relates to the leasing of public property, and never traces the history of a single piece of land over time. Unfortunately therefore we cannot be certain how typical such a pattern of short-term leasing was. This is a pity, because it would be very interesting to know

19 There is no indication that the Corinthian War (395–387) has started, but given that this did not involve the destruction of Athenian agriculture, there is no obvious reason why it should be mentioned. 20 It had previously had four owners and another tenant during the period 411–404/3, but two of these three changes of ownership have obvious political explanations (Peisander to Apollodoros and Apollodoros to Antikles, though not Antikles to the speaker: see §4nn). Disruptions caused by the Dekeleian War will also have been relevant during this period (cf. the odd statement about its having remained unsold for three years, §6n), and the location of the property (nowhere speciﬁed) may have been signiﬁcant also (cf. §4n Πεισα´νδρου).

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whether the tenants were motivated by an ideological desire to return to the land, or were seeking a quick proﬁt, or were desperate to rent anything they could get their hands on.21 The question cannot be answered deﬁnitively, but hypotheses will have to be constructed in terms of the strategic context and the speaker’s motivation, as well as more general considerations about the economic impact of the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War.22

IV. ECONOMICS AND RELIGION Central to the interpretation of this speech is the relationship between economics and religion, as represented by the cultivated olive.23 The special status of the olive in Athenian agricultural economics can be traced back as early as the law attributed to Solon banning the export from Attica of all agricultural produce except olive oil (Plut. Solon, 24.1). Its special status in Athenian religion is encoded by the myth of Athene’s having given the olive as a gift to Attica, thereby winning her competition with Poseidon to become patron deity; and by the story that the trunk of Athene’s tree on the Acropolis had sprouted a new shoot on the day after it was burned during the Persian sack in 480 bc (Hdt. 8.55; Pausan. 1.27.2). The olive’s ability to re-sprout is discussed by Hanson (1998 [1983]: 64–67), who also emphasises the tendency to use wild olive root stock as the base on which to graft domesticated olives, and hence the importance of grafting as a means of propagation. The practice of grafting may indeed be reﬂected in the Athenian belief that some of their olive trees were scions of Athene’s original olive tree. Such a tree was known as a moria (pl. moriai), and was in some sense sacred, in that the polis had a right to part or all of its fruit, thus providing the prizes of oil which were given to victors in competitions every four years at the Panathenaic festival.24 21 For the ﬁrst of these possibilities, see Burford (1993: 162); for the third, see R. G. Osborne (1988: 317–318). 22 On post-war economics, see Hanson (1998 [1983]) and Strauss (1986: 42–69), the former in particular serving to undermine earlier beliefs in widespread agricultural devastation (on which see further §6n). Leasing plays an important rôle in Wood’s attack on Jameson’s model of agricultural slavery (Wood 1988: 181–184, in response to Jameson 1978), for which see §19n. 23 On olive cultivation, see the general survey by Isager & Skydsgaard (1992: 33–40), and the more specialised work by Foxhall & Forbes (1982), and Forbes (1992), noting in particular the typical pattern of alternate-year fruiting (e.g. Forbes 1992: 90–94). A revised version of Foxhall’s 1990 thesis is, I understand, due to appear shortly. 24 IG ii2, 2311, offers a list of prizes at the Panathenaia, expressed in terms of the number of amphorae (presumably ﬁlled with oil) to be given for each competition. The inscription is incomplete, but modern scholarly estimates range from 1,200 to 2,150 amphorae (Papazarkadas 2004: 219–220, who notes that the amphorae have a capacity of c.38 litres). On the basis of Foxhall’s estimate (Foxhall 1990) that one olive tree would produce c.3.5–4.0 kg (= 3.36–3.84 litres) per major biennial harvest plus small amounts from off years, it would take the entire produce of 4–5 trees over the four years between festivals to ﬁll each Panathenaic amphora.

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The law regulating these moriai is discussed in detail at Ath.Pol. 60.1–2,25 with speciﬁc reference to the time of writing (330s–320s bc) but highlighting two sets of changes from what he describes—albeit without precise chronological indication—as earlier practice. The ﬁrst of these changes concerns the process of collection, where we are told that under the earlier system the city used to ‘sell’ the fruit (πρ*τερον δ’ π=λει τ ν καρπ ν G π*λι, 60.2), whereas by the Ath.Pol.’s own date it imposed a levy on the owner of the property, at a ﬂat rate measured in liquid volume (i.e. of oil) per tree.26 It is generally accepted (thus e.g. Rhodes 1981: 673) that ‘sell’ here is a shorthand description of the system of tax-farming that we ﬁnd attested both in literary and in epigraphic sources,27 whereby the right to collect a tax (or in this case some or probably all of the olives from the moriai) was auctioned off to the highest bidder: in other words, that what the city is selling is not the fruit as such, but the right to collect it (though this would almost certainly entail some of the fruit becoming the property of the collector).28 There is an evident reference to tax-farming, phrased in very similar terms, at the 25

Not to be confused with an apparently unrelated law (quoted at Dem. 43.71) banning a landowner from removing more than two non-sacred olives a year. People who remove olive trees are often represented as proﬁteering from the sale of the wood (as at Dem. 43.69, cf. p. 486 n. 36 below), which suggests that the function of this law may be to force land-owners to maintain the value of their property for their descendants. 26 Ath.Pol. 60.2: συλλ γεται δ& τ -λαιον α2π τν µοριν· εσπρα´ττει δ& τοZ τα` χωρα κεκτηµ νου ν οQ α! µοραι εσ ν K α%ρχων, τρι’ Gµικοτ$λια α2π το' στελ χου /κα´στου (‘the oil is collected from the moriai: the Arkhon imposes a levy on those who possess properties on which there are moriai, 1½ kotulai from each trunk [stelekhos]).’ The amount collected per tree under this later system would seem very small: 1½ kotulai is c.0.405 litres, which is approximately one-tenth of Foxhall’s estimate for the major harvest of a tree (cf. last footnote but one). Its economic signiﬁcance is harder to interpret, depending on whether we think stelekhos here includes the trunks of all olive trees (thus Papazarkadas 2004: 220, whose calculation requires nearly 200,000 trees to meet what he sees as the substantially increased Panathenaic demand of IG ii2, 2311, and more tentatively Horster 2006: 175) or only the sacred ones (as I would infer from the two-fold mention of moriai in this extract), and also on whether the amount quoted is payable once per festival quadrennium (thus by implication Papazarkadas 2004: 220), or annually (as might be implied by Ath.Pol.’s attribution of responsibility to the Arkhon), or every two years at the major harvest (a suggestion which I owe to Lin Foxhall). 27 Literary evidence for tax-farming: e.g. Andok. 1.133–134 (detailed, if tendentious). Epigraphic examples are collected by Stroud (1998: 29–30), though my understanding is some scholars remain unconvinced by his contention that what is being sold at lines 6–8 of his new grain-tax law is a tax, preferring to see it as e.g. a transport contract. The advantage of tax-farming from the viewpoint of the polis was that it guaranteed a ﬁxed income each year and also avoided the need for setting up a tax-gathering public bureaucracy. 28 In the case of a tax collected in cash, bidders would offer a ﬁxed cash sum in the expectation that the surplus collected would leave them in proﬁt after covering their expenses (Andokides is very revealing here, cf. previous footnote). It is less clear how this would work for a tax collected in kind: one could imagine a system in which bids were made in cash, but it is simpler to envisage them in terms of a guarantee to deliver a set volume of oil, since it was oil that the city needed for the Panathenaia. (The hypothesis that the contractors were bidding negatively, i.e., who will accept the smallest cash sum to do the collection, can I think be rejected, not least because this would provide no incentive for efﬁcient collection.) Either way, this implies that bidders would keep at least some of the olives: the implications for Athenian attitudes to sacred property are discussed at p. 485 below.

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start of the present speech (§2n), and indeed, as far as the process of collection is concerned, the speech would seem to match Ath.Pol.’s ‘earlier practice’ very closely. The second set of changes reported at Ath.Pol. 60.1–2 concerns the procedures and penalties used against anybody who ‘dug up or destroyed’ a sacred olive (ε1 τι ξορ$ξειεν λααν µοραν e κατα´ξειεν). Previously, we are told, such an offence was tried before the Areiopagos and punished with death, whereas at the time of writing, ‘the law <still> exists but the trial has fallen into abeyance’ (K µ&ν ν*µο -στιν, G δ& κρσι καταλ λυται). There are several correspondences here between Lys. 7 and Ath.Pol.’s account of earlier legal procedures, in particular the trial before the Areiopagos (§1n) and the fact that Lysias does on one occasion use one of Ath.Pol.’s verbs as a subsidiary description of what the speaker is charged with (exorutto¯, cf. p. 486 below). There is also, however, one signiﬁcant and unexplained difference: the penalty envisaged throughout the speech seems to be not death but exile with conﬁscation of property (§3, §25, §32, §41).29 Why the changes from earlier to current practice had taken place is something that Ath.Pol. does not tell us. Part of the explanation is clearly a function of public ﬁnance:30 the introduction of a ﬁxed levy now payable per stelekhos (which I take to include former as well as existing moriai, cf. p. 483 n. 26 above) is a reform which will reduce the motive for destruction; and if indeed previous practice had been to collect not some but all of the produce, then the economic motive for the land-holder to get rid of the tree will also be reduced, because he now stands to gain something from cultivating it. There is however one other superﬁcially tempting explanation for the change, which is sufﬁciently important to be examined in detail, though it must in my view be rejected. This is the evolutionary hypothesis of desacralisation: that is, that previously the tree and its produce had been seen as inherently sacred, but that it had come to be seen simply as a source of income for a sacred treasury. There is certainly evidence for the moriai themselves being regarded even by the Spartan invaders of Attica as too sacred to risk damaging, despite Lysias’ client’s claim to the contrary (see §6n). But what makes the proposed explanation unsatisfactory is that Lys. 7 (which broadly corresponds to Ath.Pol.’s earlier practice) evidently presupposes a system of 29 Thus Carey (1989: 115), noting that the vague references at §15 and §26 are consistent with this. Like Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 108), he rightly rejects the compromise solution of voluntary exile being allowed after a ﬁrst round of speeches, noting that the two-speech rule is attested only in homicide cases, not in all cases before the Areiopagos. The fullest treatment of the discrepancy is by Horster (2006: 175–185), who argues that Ath.Pol. is simply mistaken (in particular, she suggests that Ath.Pol.’s claim that the law is still technically in force prevents us from assuming that the reference is to a penalty which had been repealed before the time of Lysias). Wallace (1989: 106–107) suggests that the fact that such cases were now obsolete may have caused Ath.Pol. to make a mistake about the previous penalty. 30 Papazarkadas (2004: 217–218) sees the changes reported in Ath.Pol. as part of a more systematic shift in Athenian policy after Knidos (394 bc), whereby a massive increase in the quantity of oil going into the Panathenaic amphorae reﬂected what he sees as growing political and economic expansionism abroad. The data from which this putative increase is calculated, however, are not unproblematic (see p. 483 n. 26 above).

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Introduction

485

tax-farming, by which individual contractors purchase from the polis the right to collect the amount owed; and as we have seen, such a system necessarily implies that some at least of the olives must have remained in their hands, for reasons noted at p. 483 n. 28 above. But if that is the case, then even at the time of Lys. 7 there is clearly nothing particularly sacred about the olives themselves which would prevent their profane use. Rather, the moria is being visualised as belonging in whole or in part to an absentee landlord who happens to be a goddess. This has important implications for the nature of the speaker’s alleged offence.31 To recast this in broadly equivalent Christian terms, we are not talking about a charge of deﬁling the Host, or the Cruciﬁx, or the Bible. Instead, what we have is an accusation of embezzling from a charity or sticking one’s ﬁngers in the collection plate. Theft from charities, and particularly perhaps from religious charities, tends to be regarded as an especially reprehensible offence in the modern world, partly because offenders are often in a position of trust, and partly because of the loss caused to intended beneﬁciaries who are regarded as being particularly in need. But for us, it is ultimately the theft rather than the sacrilege that is important. This raises the question of how the speaker’s opponent Nikomakhos has reacted to his alleged actions, and how the court might be expected to respond to them.

¯¯ KOS V. MORIA AND SE Interpretation of this speech is complicated by the speaker’s opening allegation that Nikomakhos has shifted his accusation from one involving a moria to one involving a se¯kos (§2), and by the fact that—as the lexicographical testimonia make clear—nobody in later antiquity was sure what precisely a se¯kos was. One tradition claimed that the words se¯kos and moria were synonymous,32 another seems to have put forward an etymological explanation linking se¯kos with the stump (stelekhos) of a moria,33 while a third believed that a se¯kos was a completely different type of olive from a moria, and that it derived its name from physical

31 An interesting but rather different line is taken by Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 107–108), discussing whether the alleged offence here would be regarded as asebeia (‘impiety’, which in their view tended to cover offences of a more ‘spiritual’ character) or as hierosulia (‘theft of sacred things’, cf. pp. 387–388 above). 32 Harpok. s.v. se¯kos and Souda s.v. se¯kos both quote the passage at §10 denying that Kallistratos had taken over any ‘private olive tree (idian elaian), or moria, or se¯kos’, and both continue: µποτε οpν τα` µ&ν διωτικα` λαα καλο'σι, τα` δ& δηµοσα µορα· σηκ ν δ&, -οικε, κα µοραν @νοµα´ζουσι τDν ατν (‘Perhaps therefore they call private trees “elaiai ” [“olives”] and public ones “moriai ”. Apparently they name the same tree both se¯kos and moria’). Contrast Photios, Bibliothe¯ke¯, 489a15 (cited at p. 478 n. 6 above), which glosses se¯kos as ‘a type (eidos) of sacred olive tree’, evidently implying the belief that it was not synonymous with moria. 33 Souda, s.v. moriai (also quoting part of the passage at §11 referring to the alleged date of the event): τ8 δ& µορα το' στελ χου σηκ καλε;ται.

486

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Introduction

appearance rather than cultic status.34 Etymologically the word se¯kos ought to denote an enclosure, and modern scholars have generally interpreted it as originally signifying the fence distinguishing a moria from a non-sacred olive,35 but by extension coming to mean the stump of a moria, which remained sacred and inviolate, in case—like Athene’s olive on the Acropolis—it sprouted again (thus e.g. Stevens 1882 [1876]: 162; Gernet & Bizos 1955 [1924].i: 107; Carey 1989: 115). If this interpretation is correct, then the revised charge is of uprooting the stump of a tree, and the alleged motive will have been either to remove an obstruction to the efﬁcient farming of the piece of land, or alternatively to sell the wood.36 It is argued by Foxhall, however, that there is no external evidence that the word se¯kos had this extended meaning, and that as a working hypothesis we ought therefore to read it as denoting fence rather than stump.37 If this is correct, then the revised charge is not that the speaker has uprooted the stump as such, but rather that he has pulled up the fence which marks it out as the stump of a moria. There is a problem in this interpretation, because of the speaker’s use of verbs: admittedly the ones most often used to describe his alleged activity (aphanizo¯38 and even ekkopto¯)39 are fairly nondescript words, which could equally be predicated both of stumps and of fences; but there is also a single appearance each of two other verbs, ektemno¯ (‘cut out’, §19)40 and exorutto¯ (‘dig out’, §26), 34 Photios, s.v. se¯kos, 2, does not mention the speech, but includes the claim that among the meanings of the word is ‘an olive tree that has not a single trunk but multiple branches’ (λααν ο µονοστ λεχον α2λλα` πολ$κλαδον) and concludes by asserting the existence of ‘three types of olive: the ﬁrst group are called simply “olive trees” (elaiai); the moriai are those which in addition are sacred to Athene; the se¯koi are those which have multiple branches and lots of foliage [lit. “are hairy”]. It was not permitted to uproot either the se¯koi or the moriai, or else the penalty was death.’ (τρα ε1δη λαα· κα α! µ&ν γα`ρ αBπλ λα;αι καλο'ται· α δ& µοραι 9σαι κα !ερα τ8 2Αθηνα˜ :σαν· α! δ& σηκο α! πολ$κλαδοι κα κοµτριαι· οκ ξ8ν δ& ο?τε τα` σηκοZ ο?τε τα` µορα κκ*πτειν· e γα`ρ θα´νατο :ν G ζηµα.) 35 Various interpreters claim that such fences were ﬁrst erected following the damage done to the trees during the Peloponnesian War (thus e.g. Blass 1887 [1868]: 591, Rauchenstein & Fuhr 1899: 34, Medda 1989–95.i: 223), but I have been unable to ﬁnd the source of this belief. 36 Hanson (1998 [1983]: 57) quotes Standish, The First of All Trees: a study of the olive (1961), pp. 60–61, for the roots of a single tree in post-war France weighing 2,305 kg, and for its use as fuel. The reference to carting off the wood at §19 may suggest that the aim was to sell it rather than simply to get rid of it, which could presumably have been done on site. For the rhetoric of uprooting living olive trees for their wood as a form of asset-stripping, see Dem. 43.69. 37 I am grateful to Lin Foxhall for discussing with me this hypothesis, which will I understand be argued in detail in the published version of her thesis (cf. p. 482 n. 23 above). It has been in informal circulation for some time, and is discussed by e.g. Horster (2006: 172–173). 38 Lit. ‘to make vanish’ (which I have rendered throughout with the nondescript ‘to remove’): used of moriai at §5 (implicitly), §22, §24, §26, §28, §29 (twice), and of a se¯kos at §2, §11, §17. 39 Lit. ‘to knock out’ or ‘knock down’ (with some reservations, I have used the latter translation throughout): used of moriai at §7 (three times) and §24, but also of a se¯kos at §11 and §15. It can be used of trees (LSJ, s.v.), but also of somebody violently knocking open a door (as at Lys. 3.6). 40 Used at §19 explicitly about tree roots (premna), in a context which speciﬁes the presence of an ox-driver (boe¯late¯s) to remove the wood (for which cf. n. 36 above). The non-compounded form temno¯ (‘to cut’), predicated of the Spartans at §6n, presumably denotes cutting down above ground level, rather than cutting out the roots.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Introduction

487

both of which would seem to imply the sort of thing that you would more naturally do to a tree or a stump, rather than to a fence. The problem is confronted by Foxhall, who suggests that the speaker is deliberately conﬂating the charges because that of uprooting was easier to refute. To avoid prejudicing the question, I have left the words moria and se¯kos untranslated throughout my translation,41 but I am on reﬂection no longer as convinced by Foxhall’s suggestion as I once was (cf. Todd 1993: 308 n. 21).

VI. TACTICS AND STRATEGY One of the odd features about this speech is why it goes on so long, when at ﬁrst sight the refutation of Nikomakhos’ case would seem to be complete in §§1–11. This problem has worried several scholars, among them Blass (1887 [1868]: 592); and Scott (1915–16) has indeed put forward the intriguing suggestion that the speech continues simply because the client for whom it was written was a rich man who wanted his money’s worth. More persuasive, however, is the analysis of the arguments in §§12–43 offered by Bateman (1958a: 41–33, 94–96, 129–131) and by Feraboli (1980: 66–71). The latter emphasises the extensive use of eikosarguments in a case for which there was very little positive evidence available, whereas the former devotes his attention to analysing the complex structure of some of the groups of arguments deployed in the speech (e.g. at §§12–18 and §§23–33). He concludes that Lys. 7, along with Lys. 25, is the best organised speech in the corpus, and suggests that the reason for this is that in each case the speaker is a wealthy man who is being represented as a shrewd tactician (Bateman 1958a: 170 n. 118, and 178 with n. 3). To the modern reader, the charge faced by the speaker—at least as he succeeds in representing it—does not appear particularly strong. He manages to make his opponent look shifty by suggesting that he has changed the charge at the last minute (§2), and although witnesses may not have been as essential to an Athenian as to a modern prosecution, he nevertheless succeeds in making Nikomakhos’ alleged account of the offence look stupid, by exploiting his failure to summon bystanders or public ofﬁcials to witness it (§§20–22). Moreover, although the challenge to torture slaves (§§34–37) may appear to us as an exhausted gambit, it allows the speaker to seize the rhetorical initiative, and this may have had more impact on an Athenian audience, even in the Areiopagos. Several attempts have been made to probe for substantive weaknesses in the argument of the speech. Heitsch (1961: 216–217) for instance suggests that preliminary proceedings at the anakrisis are the reason for the prosecutor’s shift of ground both on the charge and also on the date—he suggests that Nikomakhos modiﬁed his original claim about a tree after discovering at this stage that the tax-farmers would not support him, and that he only speciﬁed a date for the 41

Normally as nouns, but once (§7) as a modiﬁer.

488

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Introduction

alleged offence when pressed to do so at the anakrisis—which is in his view the reason for the extended discussion of earlier dates at §§4–8, even though this is no longer relevant to the new charge. A similar but differently slanted hypothesis is proposed by Carey (1989: 117–118), who points out that the speaker does not adequately rebut the possibility that he committed the offence immediately after acquiring it in 404/3. This suggestion has one particularly attractive feature. Nikomakhos’ lack of witnesses means that he is virtually driven to claim autopsy, and leaving aside considerations of his age (which itself makes it hard for him to claim to have been there in 404/3, cf. Heitsch 1961: 218), nobody wants to claim that they remained in Athens under the régime of the Thirty. There are however difﬁculties with the details both of Heitsch’s hypothesis42 and that of Carey,43 and this once again suggests that although the speaker may have something to hide, nevertheless his opponents are not putting forward a particularly strong case on the point of fact. This does however bring us back to two problems which have already been touched on: why the speaker is defending himself with a speech on this scale, and why he is facing such a serious charge in a matter which to us appears so trivial. There is no clear solution to these problems, but it is tempting to speculate about the political background to the trial—that this may be a powerful man, but with a tainted record under the oligarchy and with powerful enemies who reckon that they can damage him by means of the same sort of charge as used by the Corcyrean democratic leader Peitheas, who according to Thucydides (3.70.3–6) prosecuted ﬁve prominent oligarchic opponents for impiety, alleging that they had had vine props cut for themselves illegally from a sacred precinct. A striking similarity between the two cases is that at Corcyra, too, the penalty appears to the modern reader disproportionately severe:44 in the Corcyra case, indeed, the politicisation of the trial was such that the defendants’ violent refusal to submit to the penalty led directly to the stasis (civil strife) that is the subject of one of Thucydides’ most famous political analyses. 42 Heitsch makes a lot of the fact that the tax-farmers of §2 would not be interested in a nonfruiting stump and will therefore have backed neither side, but that argument cannot be applied to the inspectors of §25. 43 Although it is true that the digression at §§5–8 breaks up the narrative and may mask the inference for the ﬁrst-time hearer (thus Carey 1989: 117), it is nevertheless surprising that the speaker should go out of his way at §5 and at §10 to emphasise what he does not in the event prove—that there was no se¯kos on the piece of land when he took it over—if indeed 404/3 is the occasion when the offence occurred. 44 One stater per vine prop. (The value in drachmas cannot be precisely calculated, since Thucydides does not specify what type of stater, but the order of magnitude is considerable: we hear most often of the Kyzikene stater, which was claimed to be worth 28 drachmas in the mid 4th cent., Dem. 34.24.) Thucydides’ wording implies that the penalty imposed on the defendants was ﬁxed by statute, as in the present case, rather than being proposed by Peitheias himself (ζηµα . . . π κειτο, Thuc. 3.70.4).

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7 Areiopagos Speech: Defence concerning the Se¯kos 1

[1] In the past, members of the council, I used to believe that by living a quiet life it was possible for anybody who so desired to have no part in legal proceedings or public affairs. Now, however, I have fallen among accusations and wicked sykophants so unexpectedly that if such a thing were possible, even those who have not been born should in my view already be afraid about what is going to happen: because of people like this, the dangers are the same both for the innocent and for those who have committed many offences. [2] What makes the trial particularly difﬁcult for me to deal with is that initially I was accused of removing an olive tree from the ground, and they went to the people who had purchased the crop of the moriai and inquired about it. But since they were not able by this means to discover anything that I had done wrong, they are now claiming that I removed a se¯kos, in the belief that for me this accusation will be the most difﬁcult to refute, and that it will be more open to them to say whatever they please. [3] It is necessary for me, in a context where this man

1

For the meaning of se¯kos and (later) moria, see pp. 485–487 above.

492

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

493

has come here after careful planning, to defend myself on a charge that concerns both my fatherland and my property, after hearing it at the same time as you who are going to decide the case. Nevertheless, I shall try to make things clear to you from the beginning. [4] The piece of land in question used to belong to Peisander, but when his property was conﬁscated, Apollodoros of Megara received it as a gift from the de¯mos. He farmed it for a while, but shortly before the Thirty, Antikles purchased it from him and rented it out. I bought it from Antikles when peace had been made. [5] In my view therefore, members of the council, my task is to show that when I acquired the land there was neither an olive tree nor a se¯kos on it. I do not think that I could legitimately be punished for the period before this, not even if there had been many moriai there: if it is not because of us that they have disappeared, then it is not appropriate that we should be on trial as if guilty of other people’s crimes. [6] You all know that the war was the cause of a great many other evils, and especially that things which were distant were cut down by the Spartans, while those nearby were plundered by our friends. So how could it be fair that I should now be punished for the disasters which happened to the polis during that period? In particular, this piece of land was conﬁscated in wartime, and remained unsold for more than three years. [7] So it is not beyond belief if they knocked down the moriai in this period, during which we were unable to protect even our own property. Those of you who have a particular responsibility for such things, members of the council,

494

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

495

are aware that many places were then thickly covered both with private and with moriai olives. The majority of these have now been knocked down, and the ground has become bare. Even though the same people had had possession both in peacetime and during the war, you do not regard it as reasonable to punish them when it is others who have done the knocking down. [8] But if you let off from responsibility those who have cultivated it throughout the entire period, then certainly those who purchased it in peacetime must go from your court unpunished. [9] Anyway, members of the council, although I could tell you a lot about what happened earlier, I think that enough has been said. When I took over the land, however, before ﬁve days had passed I rented it out to Kallistratos, during the arkhonship of Pythodoros. [10] He farmed it for two years, and did not take over any private olive tree, or moria, or se¯kos. In the third year, Demetrios here cultivated it for one year. In the fourth, I rented it to Alkias the ex-slave of Antisthenes, who is dead. After that, Proteas also rented it from me on similar terms for three years. Come forward, please. WITNESSES [11] Since this period of time ﬁnished, I have been cultivating it myself. My accuser claims that a se¯kos was knocked down by me in the arkhonship of Souniades. However, the people who cultivated it before me and who have rented it from me for many years have testiﬁed to you that there was never a se¯kos on the land. How can anybody demonstrate more clearly that the accuser is lying? It is not possible for a subsequent cultivator to remove something that has not previously been there.

496

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

497

[12] In the past, members of the council, I used for my part to be annoyed whenever people used to say that I was skilful and cautious and never did anything casually or without calculation. I thought I was being described in stronger terms than was appropriate for me. Now, however, I might have wished that you all did have that opinion about me—so that you would expect me (if I did attempt to do that sort of thing) to calculate what beneﬁts would accrue to the person who removed it, what the punishment would be for the one who did it, what I should have achieved if I managed to escape notice, and what I would suffer at your hands if I were found out. [13] These are the sorts of things which everybody does not out of hubris but for the sake of proﬁt. It is sensible for you to analyse in this way, and for litigants to frame their accusations on this basis, by showing what the beneﬁt was for the offenders. [14] This man, however, cannot demonstrate that I was forced by poverty to attempt such measures, nor that the piece of land was being spoiled for me so long as the se¯kos existed, nor that it was an obstruction to vines, or close to a house, nor that I was unaware of the danger in your court if I did something like this. I would emphasise that many severe penalties would have been waiting for me—[15] in the ﬁrst place, it was during the day that I am supposed to have knocked down the se¯kos, as if it was necessary not to avoid everybody’s attention, but for all Athenians to know. If the action had been simply a shameful one, then perhaps a passer-by might not have cared; but in fact

498

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

499

I was in danger not of shame but of the severest penalty. [16] I would surely become the most wretched of human beings, if for the rest of my life I was to have my own attendants no longer as my slaves but as my masters, because they would share my guilty knowledge of this event—so that even if they committed the greatest offences towards me, it would not be possible for me to exact any punishment from them, because I would know full well that it was in their hands both to get revenge on me and to gain their own freedom by denouncing me. [17] Moreover, even if the idea had occurred to me to ignore my slaves, how on earth would I have dared to remove the se¯kos—given that so many people had been my tenants, and all of them knew my secret—for the sake of a tiny proﬁt, and with no time-limit on the danger: it was necessary for all the people equally who had cultivated the piece of land that the se¯kos should be preserved, so that if anybody accused them, they would be able to trace the person to whom they handed it on. As it is, they have clearly exonerated me; and if they are lying, they have made themselves share in the guilt. [18] Even if I had managed to contrive that as well, how would I have been able to win over all the passers-by, or the neighbours? Neighbours not only know those things about each other which it is possible for everyone to see, but they also ﬁnd out about the things which we keep hidden from everybody else’s knowledge. Some of the neighbours are my friends, but others, as it happens, are in dispute with me over my property. [19] This man ought to have produced them as witnesses, and not to have put forward such an audacious accusation on his own. Instead, he describes how I was standing there, how my slaves cut out the roots, and how the ox-driver loaded up and drove off carrying the wood. [20] But it was at that stage, Nikomakhos, that you ought to have called on the bystanders as witnesses and made the whole affair public. You would have left me no defence. You would

500

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

501

in that way have had your vengeance on me, assuming that I was your enemy. If you were acting for the sake of the polis, by convicting me in this way you would not have looked like a sykophant. [21] If on the other hand you had wanted to make a proﬁt, it was then that you would have received the most money: the case would have been conclusive, and I would have had no hope of safety other than to win you over. But you did none of those things, and you are expecting to destroy me by means of your speeches: you claim in your accusation that it is because of my inﬂuence and my money that nobody is willing to be a witness for you. [22] And yet if you had called out the Nine Arkhons, or else some members of the Areiopagos, when you say you saw me removing the moria, you would have had no need of other witnesses: under these circumstances the people who would have recognised that you were speaking the truth would have been the ones who are also going to decide the verdict in this trial. [23] As a result, I am in a very awkward situation, given that if he had produced witnesses, he would have expected you to believe them, but since he does not have any, he thinks that this also ought to be detrimental to me. I am hardly surprised at him: given that he is a sykophant, he is of course not going to lack this sort of argument at the same time as he lacks witnesses. But I do not expect you to share the same attitude as this man. [24] You are aware that in the plain there are many moriai and burnt ones on my other pieces of land. Assuming I had wanted to do so, it would have been far safer for me to remove these, to knock down, and to encroach upon them—to the extent that because there were many of them, the crime would have been less obvious. [25] But as it is, I consider them as

502

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

503

valuable as my fatherland and the rest of my property, because I am aware that the danger I face concerns both these things. I shall produce you yourselves as my witnesses of this: you take up the responsibility every month, and you send out inspectors every year, and none of these has ever penalised me for working the land around the moriai. [26] And yet surely, if I treat these small penalties as so important, I can hardly regard as so unimportant the dangers affecting my person. So in the case of the many olive trees against which I could more easily have committed offences, I am seen to take this level of care—but I am now on trial for having removed a single one, which I could not have dug out without being noticed. [27] Which was easier for me, members of the council: to act illegally during the democracy, or under the Thirty? I say this not as one who was powerful then or is under suspicion now, but because it was much easier then than it is now for anybody who wanted to commit crimes. But not even at that time will I be shown to have done either this or any other misdeed. [28] Given that you were responsible in this way, how on earth—unless I were my own worst enemy living—could I have attempted to remove the moria from this piece of land? There was not even one single tree on it, but only the se¯kos of a single olive, or so this man claims; the road went round it in a circle, and neighbours lived on both sides; it was unenclosed, and visible from all directions. So who under such circumstances would have dared

504

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

505

to attempt something like this? [29] This seems to me astonishing: that you, to whom supervision of moriai olives has been granted in perpetuity by the polis, have never punished me for encroaching, or put me on trial for removing; this man, however, does not farm nearby, nor has he been appointed as an inspector, nor was he of an age to know about the events—but he is accusing me of having removed a moria. [30] I implore you not to regard speeches like this as more credible than actions. Do not accept the allegations of my enemies on matters about which you yourselves are knowledgeable, but remember what has been said, and the rest of my conduct as a citizen. [31] I have fulﬁlled all the duties that were laid upon me, more enthusiastically than was required by the polis. As Trierarkh, as contributor to eisphorai, as Khore¯gos, and in all the other liturgies, I have been no less generous than any of the citizens. [32] And yet if I had performed them adequately but not enthusiastically, I would not be on trial, risking exile and the remainder of my property. I would have had more possessions, without committing any offences or putting my life at risk. Whereas by doing what this man accuses me of, I did not make any proﬁt, and I put myself in danger. [33] And yet you would all agree that it is fairer to use major pieces of evidence in important cases, and to regard things to which the whole polis bears witness as more reliable, rather than things concerning which this man is the only accuser. [34] There are other points to bear in mind as well, members of the council.

506

VII. ΠΕΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΣΗΚΟΥ

7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

507

I went to him with witnesses: I said that I still had all the slaves which I had possessed when I took over the land, and that I was ready, if he wanted any of them, to hand them over for torture, in the belief that this proof would be more reliable both than his words and than my actions. [35] This man refused, claiming that there was nothing trustworthy about slaves. But to me it seems extraordinary, if those who are under torture accuse themselves, in the full knowledge that they will die as a result; whereas in the case of their masters, to whom they are naturally very hostile, they may prefer to endure being tortured rather than to denounce them and put an end to their immediate sufferings. [36] I suspect it is clear to everybody, members of the council, that if Nikomakhos had asked me to hand over the slaves and I had refused, I would have been regarded as being conscious of my own guilt. But since it was I who offered and he who refused to receive them, it is only fair that you should think the same about him, especially given that the danger for the two of us is not equal. [37] If they had said what this man wanted about me, it would have been impossible for me to defend myself. But if they had not agreed with him, he would not have been liable to any penalty. So it was far more his responsibility to receive them than it suited me to offer them. The reason why I was so eager was that I thought that it was in my interests for you to ﬁnd out the truth about the affair from evidence under torture, and from witnesses, and from presumptive proofs. [38] It is important to consider, members of the council, which side you should

508

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7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

509

rather trust: those for whom many people have witnessed, or the one for whom nobody has dared to do so? Also, whether it is more likely that this man is lying without any risk, or whether I did a thing like this in the face of such great danger? And whether you think he is coming to the assistance of the polis, or bringing a sykophantic accusation? [39] I am sure you realise that Nikomakhos is undertaking this prosecution because he has been persuaded by my enemies. He is not expecting to show that I have done anything wrong, but hopes to receive money from me. To the extent that these types of trial are the most unpleasant and the most difﬁcult to deal with, to that extent everybody tries particularly hard to avoid them. [40] I did not think it was right to do that, members of the council. Instead, as soon as he accused me, I offered myself for you to use in whatever way you wished. I did not agree to terms with any of my enemies because of this trial—even though they speak ill of me more readily than they praise themselves. None of them has ever tried to do me any injury in the open, but they send against me people like this: people that you cannot with justice trust. [41] I would be the most wretched of all men, if I were unjustly made into an exile. I would be childless and on my own. My household would be made desolate. My mother would be stripped of everything. I should be deprived, on charges that bring extreme shame, of the fatherland which is so dear to me, even though I had fought many sea-battles on its behalf, and many land-battles, and had showed myself to be a well-behaved person under both the democracy and the oligarchy. [42] I do not know, members of the council, what need there is to speak of these matters in your court. I have shown you that there was never a se¯kos on the land, and I have produced witnesses and evidence. You should remember this when you decide your verdict on the case. You should insist on hearing from this man

510

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7. Defence concerning the Se¯kos

511

why, when he could have convicted me in the act, he has forced me into so important a trial after such a long delay; [43] why he does not produce any witnesses, but seeks to be persuasive on the basis of his speech, when it would have been possible for him to convict me of wrong-doing by means of the actions themselves; and why, when I offered him all my slaves—whom he claims were present—he has refused to accept them.

Lysias 7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§1–3: Proem §1. πρότερον µέν (‘in the past’). For the attempt to capture attention by emphasising the novel and paradoxical nature of what has happened, see Carey (1989: 119). ὦ βουλή (‘members of the council’). The council of the Areiopagos, cf. p. 484 above. τῷ βουλοµένῳ (‘for anybody who so desired’). There is a pointed irony here in associating the standard verb for the volunteer prosecutor with the idea of dissociation from litigation (dikai) and public life (pragmata), and in contrasting it with the ﬁgure of the sykophant, all the more so given that the latter is the label that rich defendants typically seek to pin on volunteer prosecutors. For the suggestion that it is inappropriate for the speaker’s opponent to have become involved because he is not a neighbour, see §29n; for the claim (at least implicitly) that his motive in prosecuting is not enmity towards the speaker, see §20n. Political quietism is brieﬂy discussed at p. 480 with n. 18 above.1 αἰτίαις καὶ πονηροῖς συκοϕάνταις περιπέπτωκα (‘fallen among accusations and wicked sykophants’). For peripipto¯ (‘fall in with/fall into’, with negative connotations when used metaphorically), see LSJ s.v. II.3. For sykophancy, see 1.44n. καὶ τοὺς µὴ γεγονότας (‘even those who have not been born’). Several scholars have doubted the text here,2 and it is certainly unusual in Athenian forensic oratory to appeal to the verdict of the future. It is far more common to use historical exempla, particularly in public prosecution speeches, as a negative comment on the defendant’s behaviour: hence the focus on the attitudes displayed by e.g. those who passed the decree against Arthmios of Zeleia (Dein. 2.24–26, Dem. 19.271), or by early lawgivers (Aiskhin. 1.83, Dem. 19.256, Lyk. 1.64), or by military heroes of old (Aiskhin. 3.181–182, Lyk. 1.71). There is however a parallel to the present passage in Hypereides’ fragmentary speech For the Children of Lykourgos (frag. 118 Jensen), which discusses the attitude that will be taken by future visitors to their father’s grave, and the unusual

1

For evidence that the speaker may be less quietist than he pretends here, see §18n and §32n. J. C. Vollgraff (1899: 222–223) for instance emends µ to α%ρτι, ‘even those who have recently been born’. 2

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sentiment here may be designed once again to catch the attention (cf. last note but three). §2. ἀπεγράϕην τὸ µὲν πρῶτον (‘initially I was accused’). The verb apographomai (used also in §29) ought to signify that the original procedure was an apographe¯ (a written list of allegedly public property which the prosecutor claimed was being withheld by the defendant, for which see R. G. Osborne 1985b: 44–47), and this is how it is interpreted by Rauchenstein & Fuhr (1899: 36), but the problem with this reading is that an apographe¯ would not normally come before the Areiopagos, so it would involve assuming that the prosecution had changed not simply the details of their charge but the entire procedure. The majority of commentators therefore prefer to read it as a loose synonym for graphomai, which would be appropriate for any type of graphe¯ (public prosecution): thus e.g. Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 198), Quaglia (1968 [1957]: 24), Carey (1989: 119), and apparently Frohberger & Thalheim (1892: 118). ἐλαίαν ἐκ τῆς γῆς ἀϕανίζειν (‘of removing an olive tree from the ground’). The change in the charge here from moria to se¯kos is discussed at pp. 485–487 above, as is the signiﬁcance of the verbs used. τοὺς ἐωνηµένους τοὺς καρποὺς τῶν µορίων (‘the people who had purchased the crop of the moriai’). Since the olives from a moria are in some sense public property, this cannot refer to private individuals purchasing them from the speaker. Linguistically it could mean that the polis had sold the olives to private individuals after collection in order to raise money, but that would not explain how the purchasers will be able to identify the tree. The easiest reading of the passage therefore is as shorthand for a system of tax-farming (cf. p. 483 with n. 27 above), in which the polis sells to the highest bidder the right to collect in this case the olives. (The religious implications of this are explored at p. 485 above.) ἐπειδὴ δ ἐκ τούτου τοῦ τρόπου ἀδικοῦντά µε οὐδὲν εὑρεῖν ἐδυνήθησαν (‘since they were not able by this means to discover anything that I had done wrong’). If the tree in question is a dead or dormant stump, then one reason why the tax-farmers might not know anything about it is that unlike an active tree it would yield no fruit. Heitsch’s reconstruction of the case involves the assumption that the speaker had been preparing to call the tax-farmers as his witnesses, and that it was to avoid this problem that the prosecution had shifted its ground at the last minute (1961: 216–217). If this hypothesis were correct, however, I suspect the speaker would have made the innuendo rather more strongly (e.g. ‘they found that the collectors were going to witness for me’). §3. ἐπιβεβουλευκὼς ἥκει (‘has come here after careful planning’). Epibouleuo¯ is a fairly strong term for this context.3 It is most commonly used in Lysias of those 3

More normal perhaps would be paraskeue¯ (‘preparation’), for which see 3.2n. (Paraskeuazomai at 7.18n relates to a rather different sort of allegation.)

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who plot against the democracy (e.g. 13.9, 12, 17; 18.4; 30.9), or against the jury as representing the democracy (22.15), or in private contexts either of military treachery (14.26) or of those who plot to kill (1.44; 3.42).4 In general, allegations of preparedness tend to be made by the defendant, because it is the prosecutor who speaks ﬁrst and sets the agenda. Moreover, whereas private cases in the fourth century were subject to ofﬁcial arbitration, which meant that both sides had had a detailed opportunity to hear each other’s arguments, in public cases there was simply the anakrisis, which does not seem to have been a comparably detailed hearing of the case. Consequently, complaints about the opponent’s preparedness are particularly common in defence speeches in public cases (e.g. Andok. 1.6, Lys. 19.3, Hyp. Lykoph. §§8–9). There is likely to be an element of special pleading in such complaints, because there were ways of predicting what the opponent would do (thus Dorjahn 1935, discussed at 6.13n). Here for instance Carey (1989: 120) suggests that the speaker is exploiting an ambiguously worded indictment in order to discredit his opponent by implying a last-minute change. καὶ περὶ τῆς πατρίδος καὶ περὶ τῆς οὐσίας (‘on a charge that concerns both my fatherland and my property’). The penalty is evidently exile and conﬁscation, cf. p. 484 with n. 29 above.

§§4–11: Narrative (including refutation based on history of property, §§9–11) §4. Πεισάνδρου. Peisander, son of Glauketes, of Akharnai (PA 11770 with refs., not in APF because wealth-census is not attested, LGPN Attica no. 3 of seven so named), was one of the leaders of the extremists among the ﬁrst oligarchy of Four Hundred. The implication of this passage is that his property was conﬁscated after he ﬂed to join the Spartans at the collapse of the régime: the earliest date for the conﬁscation is late summer 411, but it may have taken some time, as denunciations were matters for private enterprise. There is incidentally nothing in the speech to prove that this was Peisander’s only landed property (§28n), nor is there any indication where it was located. Had it been in Peisander’s ancestral deme of Akharnai (Frohberger’s assumption, but regarded as an unsafe inference by Thalheim in Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 115 n. 7), it would presumably have been subject to regular raids from Dekeleia: this might account for its possible non-cultivation (cf. §6n), but the speaker would perhaps have said more about location at §§5–6, so as to explain the disappearance of the tree. A phrase elsewhere in the speech may or may not imply that this piece of land, like the speaker’s other ones, is in the plain of Attica (cf. §24). On the other hand, Nikomakhos’ failure to take public ofﬁcials as witnesses of

4 Though it can also be used positively, as in the case of those who plotted the assassination of Phrynikhos at Lys. 13.71. For the connection in Lys. 3 between epibouleuo¯ and pronoia (‘intent’), see 3.29n.

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the alleged destruction may imply that it was not in the immediate vicinity of Athens (§22). τὸ χωρίον (‘the piece of land’). Kho¯rion is the word used throughout the speech to denote the piece of property on which the alleged offence had taken place. For the terms used for agricultural property in the Attic Stelai, see Pritchett, Pippin & Amyx (1953–58.ii: 268–270): too few of these can be matched with prices in the Stelai themselves to allow safe conclusions about relative values, but it is notable that Isai. 11.41–44 consistently describes each of his opponent’s holdings as an agros and each of his own as a kho¯rion, with systematically lower values attributed to the latter, in a context where he is seeking to emphasise the opponent’s greater wealth, which may suggest that kho¯rion is normally used of a smaller rather than a larger area. My use throughout the speech of the translation ‘land/piece of land’ for kho¯rion is intended to avoid the market-gardener connotations of ‘plot’ (used throughout by Lamb 1930), as well as the possibly over-large connotations of ‘estate’ (Todd 2000a: 80, etc.), while ‘farm’ (as Carey 1989: 116) risks prejudging the debate about residence which is outlined at p. 58 n. 55 above;5 ‘property’ would have been an equally neutral term, but could have caused confusion with its use to render ousia (the totality of a man’s holdings) at §32. Ἀπολλόδωρος ὁ Μεγαρεύς (‘Apollodoros of Megara’). One of the events that marked the beginning of the Four Hundred’s fall from power was the assassination of Phrynikhos, son of Stratonides, of Deiradiotai (PA 15011 with refs., not in APF because wealth-census is not attested, LGPN Attica no. 16 of thirty-eight so named), who was a colleague of Peisander (see last note but one) and another leader of the extreme oligarchs among the régime. Events surrounding Phrynikhos’ assassination are disputed,6 but both Lysias and Lykourgos name only two assassins, and agree in identifying them as Apollodoros on the one hand, and Thrasyboulos of Kalydon on the other. (Thucydides gives no names, but his version has an apparently Athenian assassin with an Argive assistant.) However, an inscription recording a decree passed under the restored democracy in spring 410/09 makes clear that various non-citizens claimed credit for their rôles in the assassination, and implies that there were continuing disputes among proponents of these claimants as to what rewards should go to whom.7 The decree was evidently proposed by supporters of Thrasyboulos, since Apollodoros is nowhere favourably mentioned. It contains two amendments, the ﬁrst of them proposed by one Diokles (lines 14–37), which makes Thrasyboulos a citizen, holds out the prospect of further rewards for him, and grants the lesser reward of enkte¯sis to

5 The only mention of a building in the present speech occurs within an unreal hypothesis (§14n), so it is by no means certain that there were any buildings on the land at all. 6 There are contradictory accounts in Thuc. 8.92.2, Lys. 13.70–72, and esp. Lyk. 1.112–113, with discussions in Hansen (1975: no. 62 at pp. 82–83), and in Gomme, Andrewes, & Dover (1945– 81.v: 309–310). 7 Meiggs & Lewis no. 85 = IG i3, 102, with detailed discussion in M. J. Osborne (1981–83.ii: no. D.2, at pp. 16–21).

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ﬁve other individuals who are also honoured as benefactors.8 By contrast, the second amendment (that of Eudikos, lines 38–47) sets up an ofﬁcial investigation into bribes which had allegedly served to secure the passing of a decree in favour of Apollodoros. The implication is that Apollodoros has already received some reward, and that this is now under threat from the investigation, but the present passage implies that that was not the end of the story. Admittedly we cannot be sure when Apollodoros received the piece of land conﬁscated from Peisander (a later passage in the speech can be read as implying that this did not happen until 408/7, but this is not a conclusive inference, cf. §6n), but it is nevertheless clear that he retained it until a date which cannot have been much before 404 (cf. following note), which he surely would not have done had Eudikos’ investigation found against him.8a ὀλίγῳ . . . πρὸ τῶν τριάκοντα (‘shortly before the Thirty’). The Thirty were in power for eight months in 404/3. It is not speciﬁed how long Apollodoros had farmed the property, and the speaker may be trying to make Antikles’ purchase appear as late as possible in order to suggest that his own purchase took place later than it did (cf. §9n), but it would make sense for Apollodoros to sell out as soon as the Thirty were in the ofﬁng, given that they would be unlikely to respect the rights of somebody who had assassinated a leader of the previous oligarchy. Nor are we told why he farmed it himself: it may have been ideology (he may have wanted to emphasise his commitment to the land, particularly if his rewards, like those of Thrasyboulos, included citizenship), or proﬁtability, or an inability to ﬁnd tenants (though this may depend on how near it was to Dekeleia, which was fortiﬁed by the Spartans from 413 to the surrender of Athens in 404, cf. §6n). ̓Αντικλῆς . . . πριάµενος ἐξεµίσθωσεν (‘Antikles purchased it . . . and rented it out’). Antikles is otherwise unknown, and given that there are no other clues and the name is fairly common (forty-one individuals in LGPN Attica), there is no reason to connect this man (LGPN Attica no. 7 = PA 1055) with the family history 8

The only one of these to be otherwise attested is Agoratos, the defendant in Lys. 13. This speech contains a detailed rebuttal (13.70–72), supported by two readings from decrees, of Agoratos’ claim to have received citizenship as a reward for assassinating Phrynikhos. If the text at 13.72 is sound, then its repeated mention of Apollodoros alongside Thrasyboulos as having received citizenship in the ﬁrst of the quoted decrees would seem to rule out a reference to the surviving inscription, which rewards only Thrasyboulos (thus M. J. Osborne 1981–83.ii: 17–19, who suggests either a subsequent decree for both assassins jointly, or a conﬂation of texts on Lysias’ part). But given the competitive atmosphere revealed by the inscription, it may be easiest to follow Röhl (1876) in twice deleting Apollodoros from 13.72, reading this as a scribal supplement based on the mention of both assassins together at 13.71. If so, then the decree quoted at the end of 13.71 could be the amendment of Diokles (leading to the claim at 13.72 that it did not grant him citizenship, as it did for Thrasyboulos); and the one quoted at the end of 13.72 could even be that of Eudikos, if we assume that once the jury have been told that ‘some people’ (i.e. Agoratos) had used bribery to have their names added as ‘benefactors’, they would not then notice that the text quoted to prove that assertion was directed explicitly against Apollodoros. 8a The identiﬁcation by Anne Jeffery of a c.400 bc Peiraieus gravestone as that of Apollodoros is reported in the Poinikastas webpage of the Oxford Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents (LSAG ref. 138.15).

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§4–6

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of Agoratos in Lys. 13.64, whose father’s owner was called Antikles (LGPN Attica no. 2 = PA 1054). As in the contrary case of Apollodoros (cf. previous note), we are not told why Antikles rented out the property, but the ﬁrst of the considerations listed there would not apply to him, and perhaps the third as well, though this depends on the date at which he acquired it. εἰρήνης οὔσης (‘when peace had been made’). The speaker later admits that the purchase happened in the arkhonship of Pythodoros (§9), which was 404/3, the year when the Thirty were in power. Consequently the ‘peace’ here must be the surrender of Athens at the end of the Peloponnesian War in 405/4 (thus Rauchenstein & Fuhr 1899: 37; Quaglia 1968 [1957]: 27; Medda 1989–95.i: 229 n. 5), with the purchase at the start of 404/3. However, the contrast with Antikles’ purchase ‘shortly before the Thirty’ is evidently meant to suggest a reference here to the Amnesty settlement of 403/2 (which is how it is misread by Lamb 1930: 149), and is therefore a deliberate attempt to mislead us into assuming a later and politically less charged date for the speaker’s own purchase (thus Carey 1989: 122). We are not told why Antikles sold the property: it may have been difﬁcult to ﬁnd good tenants, but he may also have foreseen dangers for himself under the Thirty. §5. ἐµὸν ἔργον (‘my task’). The failure to fulﬁl this promise is discussed at p. 488 n. 43 above. οὐδ’ εἰ πολλαὶ ἐνῆσαν µορίαι (‘not even if there had been many moriai there’). The Palatinus manuscript reads πα´λαι (‘long ago’), which leaves a ﬂat sentence, ‘not even if there had in the past been moriai there’. The most attractive remedy (Valckenaer and Reiske, followed by Carey and accepted here) is to emend πα´λαι to πολλα (‘many’). The alternative (Thalheim and Albini) is to retain πα´λαι, but to read µυραι (‘tens of thousands’) in place of µοραι (sacred olives), and translate ‘not even if there had in the past been tens of thousands there’: this reading is found in one secondary manuscript, but it looks like an emendation by a scribe who realised the need for an adjective of number. δι’ ἡµᾶς (‘because of us’). Presumably plural for singular: there is no other evidence for co-defendants in this case. §6. <ὁ> πόλεµος (‘the war’). The primary reference here is presumably to the second half of the Peloponnesian War (the Dekeleian War of 413–404, so called because the Spartan King Agis manned a permanent base at Dekeleia in Attica). This would make sense of ‘things’ (presumably pieces of land) which were distant being damaged by Spartans, though there is an implied conﬂict with the explicit claim by two of the Atthidographers who speak of the Spartans abstaining from damage to moriai through fear of Athene (Androtion FGrH 324 F.39 Jacoby, Philokhoros FGrH 328 F.125 Jacoby). It is possible that Spartan religious sensibilities weakened over time and under the pressure of total

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war,9 or alternatively that the speaker is putting forward a deliberately misleading suggestion, though it would be risky to do so if the converse were widely known. What is less clear is the mention of nearer pieces of land being plundered by philoi (‘friends’)—presumably the reference is to Athenians,10 and presumably the vagueness is intended to avoid the response, ‘but no Athenian would ever destroy a moria’—which could refer either to collateral damage in counter-attacks against the Spartans in 413–404, or more probably to damage done by one of two parties in the Civil War of 404/3. (The latter interpretation is rejected by Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 120 and by Rauchenstein & Fuhr 1899: 36, on the grounds that this would be after the speaker had leased out the property in §9, but it is not necessarily in the speaker’s interests to keep clear the sequence of events.) The practical difﬁculties involved in agricultural destruction are emphasised by Hanson (1998 [1983]: 153–166),11 while Burford (1993: 161–162) notes that there seems to have been some resumption of farming on this piece of land before the war ended. Foxhall (1993: 137) argues that differentially greater damage may have been caused to wealthier farmers, if we assume that they are more likely to have had larger plots on ﬂatter land. ἐτέµνετο . . . διηρπάζετο (‘cut down . . . plundered’). The use of verbs here is discussed by Hanson (1998 [1983]: 57–58, and cf. p. 486 with n. 40 above), who suggests that cutting down will have been normal in warfare under pressure of time, but is far less effective than the much more difﬁcult process of uprooting, because of the olive’s capacity to re-sprout.12 ὑπὲρ τῶν . . . συµϕορῶν ἐγὼ νυνὶ δίκην διδοίην (‘that I should now be punished for the disasters’). Sumphora (‘disaster’) is regularly used in the Lysianic corpus as a euphemism for the battle of Aigospotamoi (see 6.46n), but here it seems to be a more general reference to Athenian misfortunes in 413–404. The speaker has to tread a difﬁcult line between emphasising the Athenians’ inability to protect their property (cf. §7) and antagonising the jury by overemphasising Athenian weakness. αλλως τε καί (‘in particular’). On the text here, see Carey (1989: 123). απρατον ἦν πλείω ἢ τρία ἔτη (‘remained unsold for more than three years’). What the speaker wants us to infer is that the property remained untended, though that 9 Androtion, in the more explicit of the two fragments, attributes such behaviour speciﬁcally to the Spartans under Arkhidamos, i.e. in the ﬁrst part of the Peloponnesian War (Λακεδαιµ*νιοι γα`ρ µβαλ*ντε ν τ^ >ττικ^ † κα µυρια´σι Πελοποννησων κα Βοιωτν, Gγουµ νου το' >ρχιδα´µου το' Ζευξιδα´µου, Λακεδαιµονων βασιλ ω, α2π σχοντο τν λεγοµ νων µορων >θηνα˜ν δεσαντε, >νδροτων φησν), and Harding (1994: 149) reads this as a decision taken by Arkhidamos himself. 10 Lamb (1930: 149 note d), however, suggests Boiotian and Thessalian allies assisting the Athenians to resist Spartan attacks in 413–404. 11 Thorne (2001) seeks to demonstrate a greater scale of damage, but primarily to grain rather to olives. 12 The location of the graft may make a difference here, given the practice of grafting domesticated olives onto wild root-stock and the tendency to send up shoots which are wild (for which see Isager & Skydsgaard 1992: 35–36).

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is not quite what he says.13 He may be deliberately misrepresenting a period of continuous ownership, e.g. by Apollodoros from, say, 409/8 until its sale to Antikles in, say, 405/4. This, however, seems a far-fetched hypothesis, and more likely is a period of three years between conﬁscation in, say, 411/10 and being granted to Apollodoros in 408/7 or perhaps 408/7 (thus Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 120, Rauchenstein & Fuhr 1899: 37, Feraboli 1980: 69 n. 53, and by implication Carey 1989: 125). Conﬁscated property was normally sold at auction by the Po¯le¯tai at the earliest possible opportunity, and although delays could be caused by the difﬁculties of establishing title to land, nevertheless even in the earlier and putatively more complex case of the Herms and the Mysteries, the totality of auctions seems to have been completed within eighteen months.14 So for Peisander’s piece of land to have remained in public hands for three years would be unusual, and such a hypothesis would require explanation. It would presumably involve assuming that unsuccessful attempts at auction had been made by the Po¯le¯tai in the intervening period, with prospective bidders being discouraged either by the proximity of the Spartans at Dekeleia, or perhaps by the prospect of Spartan victory and the consequent return from exile of a vindictive Peisander (cf. §4n Πεισα´νδρου). In addition, it would suggest that the grant to Apollodoros was designed to allow the polis to make symbolic capital out of a ﬁnancially useless asset, and perhaps also to give the recipient an implied token of his citizenship, albeit one that could not be commercially exploited. Moreover, the hypothetical date of the grant would provide further evidence for continuing dispute over the rewards for the assassins of Phrynikhos (cf. §4n >πολλ*δωρο). It may be thought surprising that nobody had been prepared to offer a token bid either to acquire the nominal status of land-owner or to complete the political humiliation of what Peisander stood for, and we may speculate that although there is no evidence for a reserve price at public auctions, nevertheless the Po¯le¯tai might have felt empowered, on the grounds that nobody had previously envisaged the possibility that land might have no serious purchasers, either to postpone the auction or to reject token bids. §7. τὰς µορίας ἐξέκοπτον (‘they knocked down the moriai’), sc. the Spartans. On the verb here, see p. 486 n. 39 above. 13 Unless of course we emend the text. Carey’s OCT apparatus reports Frohberger’s α2ν ργαστον (‘unworked’) and Francken’s α%σκαπτον (‘not dug’) or α2ργ*ν (‘fallow’), any of which would yield the expected meaning, but in each case it is hard to explain the corruption. Palaeographically more simple would be Shuckburgh’s α%πρακτον (1892 [1882]: 200), which normally means ‘unproﬁtable’ but is cited in this passage by LSJ s.v. 1b as ‘untilled’ (though without parallels). Leaving aside palaeographical or linguistic difﬁculties, it is hardly a necessary emendation given that the received text makes good (if unexpected) sense. 14 The auctions of conﬁscated property following the case of the Herms and the Mysteries (for which see p. 400 n. 5 above) are recorded in the Attic Stelai: for the chronology of these inscriptions (415–413), see D. M. Lewis (1966: 181–186), who notes that delays will have been caused particularly by the scale of the task on that occasion, by the reliance on property being denounced by private individuals, and by cases where land had been used as security for loans.

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ὅσοι µάλιστα τῶν τοιούτων ἐπιµελεῖσθε (‘those of you who have a particular responsibility for such things’). If the text is sound (Meutzner, followed by Rauchenstein & Fuhr, suggests emending to 9σ, ‘insofar as you ’), it has implications for the interpretation of a later passage (cf. §25n). δασέα ὄντα ἰδίαις καὶ µορίαις ἐλαίαις (‘thickly covered both with private and with moriai olives’). On one level this is a simple assertion to meet the needs of the speaker’s case, but there may also be the underlying idea that deforestation represents decline (for which cf. Plato, Critias, 111c). On the use of moria here as a modiﬁer, see p. 487 n. 41 above: the contrast with private olives serves to equate sacred in this context with public. §8. τοὺς διὰ παντὸς τοῦ χρόνου γεωργοῦντας (‘those who have cultivated it throughout the entire period’). There is no attempt here to distinguish occupants from owners, either because what is being idealised in Athenian rhetoric is the activity of farming rather than that of legal ownership, or else because it suits the speaker to share potential responsibility for the offence between all previous tenants and owners equally. §9. πρὶν ἡµέρας πέντε γενέσθαι (‘before ﬁve days had passed’). This, as Carey (1989: 125) points out, is meant to sound like too short a time to perpetrate any offence, but is in fact plenty of time for the planned uprooting of even a large tree or stump (let alone, on Foxhall’s hypothesis, the removal of a fence). Καλλιστράτῳ (‘Kallistratos’). Given the popularity of this name (174 individuals in LGPN Attica, of which this is no. 2 = PA 8128: likely perhaps to be a citizen, but not a necessary inference), there is little point in seeking to identify him. The economic signiﬁcance of the short-term leases in §§9–10 is discussed at pp. 481– 482 above. ἐπὶ Πυθοδώρου αρχοντος (‘during the arkhonship of Pythodoros’). Arkhon under the Thirty, in 404/3. The interpolated chronological note at Xen. Hell. 2.3.1 claims that the Athenians do not mention his name but instead refer to it as a year without an Arkhon. This does not seem to be strictly true, because the name is used for dating purposes twice in the Ath.Pol. (35.1 and 41.1) and sometimes in public accounts (an unavoidable restoration at IG ii2, 1498.21, and at SEG 21 [1965], 80.1). The Orators, however, do generally avoid mentioning him,15 which raises the question why he is named here: presumably the desire to create a sense of precise dating overrides the risk of highlighting the speaker’s presence in Athens under the Thirty, particularly given the earlier use of the ambiguous phrase ερνη ο?ση (cf. §4n) to soften the blow.

15 The most studied evasion is at Lys. 21.4, where the apparently annual sequence of liturgies moves from Alexias (405/4) to Eukleides (403/2) by means of one which is introduced by the single word ‘afterwards’ (husteron). Cf. similarly Isok. 18.5, where the emphasis is on the régime of the Ten, and the narrative involves naming the Basileus rather than the Arkhon.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §10

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§10. δύο ἔτη (‘two years’). We do not have enough evidence for Athenian leases to know whether tenancies were normally granted at a particular time of the year, but it would make sense agriculturally to grant a tenancy for a full season, and prima facie the obvious time for a tenant to quit would be after the harvest in June or the vintage in September.16 (It is perhaps worth noting that Hesiod’s agricultural calendar in Works & Days, for which see West, 1978: 253, begins in late September with wood-cutting and ends with the vintage.) Given that the speaker appears to have acquired the property early in 404/3 (cf. §4n), the two years of Kallistratos’ tenancy presumably lasted for a period broadly corresponding to the arkhon-years 404/3 and 403/2. οὔτε ἰδίαν ἐλαίαν οὔτε µορίαν οὔτε σηκὸν παραλαβών (‘did not take over any private olive tree, or moria, or se¯kos’). Quoted by Harpokration and the Souda s.v. se¯kos, cf. p. 485 n. 32 above. This is emphatic, and focuses attention again on the unfulﬁlled promise of §5: the signiﬁcance of this point is discussed at p. 488 n. 43 above. For the absence of trees of any type from this piece of land, and Lysias’ failure to mention this until a late stage in the speech, see §28n with §14n below. τρίτῳ δὲ ἔτει ∆ηµήτριος οὑτοσί (‘in the third year, Demetrios here’). The implication is that he is present in court as a witness. Like Kallistratos in §9, he is perhaps more likely to be a citizen than not, but his name is even more common (no. 5 out of 782 individuals in LGPN Attica) than his predecessor’s, and he cannot be identiﬁed. His tenancy presumably corresponded broadly to the arkhon-year 402/1 cf. last note but one). τῷ δὲ τετάρτῳ ̓Αλκίᾳ ̓Αντισθένους ἀπελευθέρῳ ἐµίσθωσα, ὃς τέθνηκε (‘in the fourth, I rented it to Alkias the ex-slave of Antisthenes, who is dead’). A tenancy broadly corresponding to the arkhon-year 401/0, cf. above. The term ‘farmer’ (geo¯rgos) is used to denote various former slaves, now metics, on the phialai exeleutherikai inscriptions recording slave-manumissions from the 320s (eleven examples);17 other non-citizens, who may include former slaves, are similarly described on the inscription granting rewards to those who assisted in the democratic restoration of 403 (fullest text in M. J. Osborne 1981–83: cat. no. D6, with ten certain examples and one probable one).18 These inscriptions, however,

16 IG ii2, 2492, has the tenant taking over the property in stages (grain in 345/4 and timber in the following year, lines 18–20), but we are not told when in the year these stages are to take effect. The annual rent is payable in Hekatombaion (lines 5–7: the ﬁrst month of the calendar year, in mid-summer), but this may be simply for accounting convenience, since the context is a forty-year lease of land belonging to the deme Aixone. 17 Great Inscription (D. M. Lewis 1959) face A lines 108–111, 247–250, 392–395; face B lines 11–13, 59–60, 109–111, 207–208; IG ii2, 1553 col. 1 lines 24–26, 1566 face A lines 21–23, face B lines 39–41, lines 69–70. 18 Certain examples on face A col. 4 line 1, line 15; face B col. 1 line 40, line 81; col. 2 line 1, line 9, line 11, line 26, col. 3 line 2, line 5; probable at face B col. 1 line 62. On the non-Greek names Knips and Psammis (the second Egyptian, the ﬁrst described as ‘unparalleled’), and the probability that these are ex-slaves, see Rhodes & Osborne (2003: 27).

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do not make explicit whether those so named are tenant farmers or farm bailiffs or agricultural labourers,19 and for an ex-slave to be ﬁrmly attested as a tenant (as here) is to my knowledge unparalleled. Whether the dead man is Alkias or Antisthenes is linguistically unclear. Burford (1993: 179 with n. 34) assumes the latter, suggesting that Alkias may be a former bailiff who has moved into farming in his own right, after his ex-master’s death has made him a free agent. In context, however, the statement presumably serves to explain the nonappearance of the dead man as witness, and since an ex-slave qua metic ought to have been able to appear in his own right, this should mean that it is Alkias whose non-appearance is being accounted for (thus Rauchenstein & Fuhr 1899: 38, and by implication Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 121, and Quaglia 1968 [1957]: 35). Neither name is particularly common: Alkias is no. 9 out of nine individuals in LGPN Attica, and Antisthenes (= PA 1185) is no. 5 out of thirty-six. The former, however, cannot plausibly be identiﬁed with any other known Alkias, whereas Antisthenes has several homonymous contemporaries, including the joint-owner of the banking-slave Pasion (LGPN Attica Antisthenes no. 1 = PA 1186). A highly speculative reconstruction would interpret Alkias as Pasion’s predecessor as bank manager, freed like many such bank managers so that he could more easily run his master’s business, whose premature death would have created the opportunity for Pasion’s advancement. The attractive feature of this speculation is that bank managers seem to have been unusually wealthy ex-slaves, which might explain why there are no parallels for an ex-slave as tenant farmer, but given that banking slaves seem normally to have been freed so that they could lease the master’s business, it would seem surprising for such a man to engage in agriculture. κᾆτα τρία ἔτη ὁµοίως καὶ Πρωτέας ἐµισθώσατο (‘after that, Proteas also rented it from me on similar terms for three years’). The manuscript reading is t τ θνηκε τα'τα τρα -τη (‘who has been dead these three years’), but κ|τα (= κα εjτα) for τα'τα with a change in the sense-break is the widely accepted emendation of Meutzner (1860: 9–10). The three years in Meutzner’s text are presumably those corresponding to the arkhon-years 400/399, 399/8, and 398/7: this ﬁts the two statements in §11, that the speaker had farmed the property himself after the expiration of Proteas’ tenancy, and that he had been in a position to commit the alleged offence himself in 397/6. The signiﬁcance of Kµοω is unclear: the lease may have been ‘on similar contractual terms’ (Stutzer 1880: 25, though his discussion of the date of the speech at 1880: 24 is substantially weakened by a failure to discuss Meutzner’s emendation), or more probably the land may have been ‘in a similar condition’ (i.e. without the alleged trees, thus Rauchenstein & Fuhr 1899: 38, Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 121).

19

Rhodes & Osborne, no. 4 (who number the columns consecutively such that face B col. i becomes col. v in their edition), translate geo¯rgos in this inscription as ‘farm-worker’.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§11–12

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§11. ἐπειδή . . . ὁ χρόνος οὗτος ἐξήκει (‘since this period of time ﬁnished’), i.e. since the end of the arkhon-year 398/7, cf. previous note. ϕησὶ δὲ ὁ κατήγορος (‘my accuser claims’). Such an explicit assertion about statements made by the prosecutor in court is unlikely to be false, because it would be too easy to rebut. If so, it is odd that he has neither checked whether the speaker’s former tenants would support his story, nor threatened to charge them with collusion, nor offered to exculpate them by placing the crime in the ﬁve-day period after the speaker acquired the property: there is some suggestion at §18, however, that the prosecution may have claimed that the witnesses had been bribed or intimidated by the speaker. Given that our manuscripts do not include the statements of witnesses, we cannot be sure how far back in the narrative their evidence in §10 goes (though see next note but one), but this will of course have been clear to the jury. ἐπὶ Σουνιάδου αρχοντος σηκὸν ὑπ’ ἐµοῦ ἐκκεκόϕθαι (‘that a se¯kos was knocked down by me in the arkhonship of Souniades’, partially quoted by the Souda s.v. moriai, cf. p. 485 n. 33 above). In 397/6, which seems to have been the year in which the speaker took back control of the property himself, cf. last note but two. For the use of the verb ekkopto¯, see p. 486 n. 39 above. οἱ πρότερον ἐργαζόµενοι καὶ πολλὰ ἔτη παρ’ ἐµοῦ µεµισθωµένοι (‘the people who cultivated it before me and who have rented it from me for many years’). Linguistically this ought to be one group rather than two (which would require κα <ο!> πολλα´), which suggests that it does not include those who owned the property before he purchased it in 404/3: Carey (1989: 126) notes that there is no indication that the speaker’s witnesses included Apollodoros, Antikles, and Antikles’ tenant, and uses this to argue that the offence may in reality have been committed in the ﬁve-day period after he acquired the land (see further p. 488 above).

§§12–41: Refutation Based on Arguments from Probability Probability argument: foolishness of actions attributed to speaker (§§12–19) §12. ἠγανάκτουν αν (‘I used . . . to be annoyed’). As Carey (1989: 127) points out, the claim that this was how other people viewed him allows the speaker to represent himself as a careful and deliberate man in order to argue that the alleged offence is out of character, while simultaneously distancing himself from a value-system which might have appeared unsatisfactory to fellow-Athenians. The tone of abstract political generalisation here is one of several parallels with Lys. 25, as is the fact (for which cf. also p. 487 above) that the speech continues rather than stopping at §11. ἡγούµενος µᾶλλον λέγεσθαι (‘I thought I was being described in stronger terms’,

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lit. ‘thinking that it was being stated more’). The text is not wholly satisfactory: various proposed emendations are discussed by Carey (1989: 127). ζηµία (‘punishment’). ‘Loss, damage’ is suggested here by LSJ (s.v. ze¯mia, I) because of the contrast with kerdos (proﬁt), but in context it seems more likely that he is thinking of a judicial penalty (LSJ s.v. II.2). ϕανερὸς γενόµενος (‘if I were found out’). We might perhaps have expected a phrase with ep’ autopho¯ro¯i (for which cf. Hansen 1976: 48–53), though this is more common in contexts involving apago¯ge¯ or summary arrest. §13. οὐχ ὕβρεως ἀλλὰ κέρδους ἕνεκα (‘not out of hubris but for the sake of proﬁt’). For the possible hubris here, see Fisher (1992: 103). The implied denial of proﬁt as a motive in this case is somewhat undermined by the admission of limited proﬁt in §17. τοὺς ἀντιδίκους ἐκ τούτων τὰς κατηγορίας ποιεῖσθαι (‘for litigants to frame their accusations on this basis’). Linguistically this does not have to be read as a statement about his opponents (antidikoi can be used to denote both sets of rival litigants in a dispute to which the speaker is not party, as at Lys. 30.3 and in the law cited at Dem. 46.10), though the mention of kate¯goriai (accusations) encourages us to infer that it is them that he has in mind.20 Telling one’s opponent how to manage his case is a tactic which suits a politically conﬁdent speaker: it is paralleled most strikingly in Lys. 10.15–21. §14. ὡς ὑπὸ πενίας ἠναγκάσθην (‘that I was forced by poverty’). We are conditioned by the tradition of Christian monasticism to equate poverty with virtue (though there is as often a certain ambivalence here: cf. the political rhetoric of ‘the deserving poor’, and by implication therefore the undeserving poor). In Greek political discourse, on the other hand, although those who were (at least from the speaker’s perspective) excessively rich were regarded as likely to commit hubris (see 1.37n), nevertheless to be comfortably wealthy was unashamedly good, and penia (poverty) tends in the Orators to be regarded as a source of shame and a potential cause of crime, such that Demosthenes for instance has to be quite careful when introducing the disfranchised former arbitrator Straton to explain that though pene¯s he is nevertheless not a criminal (pone¯ros, Dem. 21.83). On poverty and wealth, see Dover (1974: 109–112). οὔθ’ ὡς ἀµπέλοις ἐµποδὼν ἦν, οὔθ’ ὡς οἰκίας ἐγγύς (‘nor that it was an obstruction to vines, or close to a house’). Later in the speech, it emerges that the piece of land had ‘not even one single tree’ on it (§28n). Failure to mention this in the present passage is odd, but could be deliberate, since a single stump or fenced-off area 20 I am not sure of the basis on which Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 202) claims that antidikoi is a term which strictly speaking was applied only to the defendant rather than as here to the prosecutor, since there are plenty of parallels for the latter (Ant. 6.20, Andok. 1.9, Dem. 18.1, leaving aside of course its repeated appearance in Lys. 9.1, 3, 15, 21).

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§14–17

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might have been more of a nuisance than the many which he claims existed on his other properties (cf. §24n).21 The point of his statement here could be that there were no vines or buildings in the particular vicinity of the alleged se¯kos, but since he is not admitting its existence, he could alternatively mean that the piece of land had neither vines nor buildings at all (for the latter, see §4n). ἀποϕήναιµι (‘I would emphasise’), lit. ‘make clear’. §15. µεθ’ ἡµέραν ἐξέκοπτον (‘during the day that I am supposed to have knocked down’), lit. ‘I knocked down22 during the day’, but the context is obviously hypothetical. If this is a question of uprooting a stump, then the scale of the work involved in the account quoted by Hanson (see p. 486 n. 36 above) is such that it is difﬁcult to imagine its being organised at night. §16. εἰ τοὺς ἐµαυτοῦ θεράποντας µηκέτι δούλους ἔµελλον ἕξειν ἀλλὰ δεσπότας (‘if . . . I was to have my own attendants [therapontes] no longer as my slaves [douloi] but as my masters [despotai]’). The use of two different words for slaves here is partly to avoid repetition (cf. on oikete¯s, §17n), but whereas therapo¯n tends to envisage the slave in functional terms, doulos often carries connotations of juridical status (see 1.42n). This serves to sharpen the contrast with despote¯s (speciﬁcally the master of slaves, rather than the more general term kurios, which is regularly used to describe the head of a household with reference also to his female relatives) and the paradox of rôle-reversal. δίκην µε παρ’ αὐτῶν λαµβάνειν (‘for me to exact any punishment from them’). I am not aware of any parallels within the Orators for the use of the phrase dike¯n dido¯mi or dike¯n lambano¯ (‘to pay/to exact a penalty’) being used in this way to denote private as opposed to judicial punishment. καὶ ἐµὲ τιµωρήσασθαι καὶ αὐτοῖς µηνύσασιν ἐλευθέροις γενέσθαι (‘both to get revenge on me and to gain their own freedom by denouncing me’ [lit. ‘and themselves to become free’], with dative ατο; by attraction to κενοι). For freedom as the reward for successful me¯nusis (denunciation) by slaves, at least in religious cases, see pp. 388–389 above. §17. εἰ τῶν οἰκετῶν παρέστη µοι µηδὲν ϕροντίζειν (‘even if the idea had occurred to me to ignore my slaves’). Although the term is in practice used outside as well as inside the domestic context (see 1.42n), etymologically oikete¯s denotes the slave speciﬁcally in his rôle as member of the household (cf. last note but two), which may add point to the hypothetical threat posed by their inside knowledge of the 21 Given that awareness of subsidence seems to be a modern phenomenon, it is not clear why hypothetical proximity to a house would have been undesirable, unless the point is that it might be obscuring the view or somehow obtruding on his access to agricultural land; nor is it clear why it should have been an obstruction to vines, except insofar as these might be easier to cultivate in neat rows. 22 Perhaps ‘tried to knock down’ or ‘began to knock down’ (imperfect). For the use of verbs to denote the speaker’s alleged actions in this speech, see p. 486 with n. 39 above.

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speaker’s activities. This passage (together with Lys. 5.5) is one of two cited by V. J. Hunter (1994: 89) as evidence for masters’ consciousness of the threat of slave-informers: the fact that both these passages relate to religious prosecutions, however, lends support to R. G. Osborne’s view of me¯nusis, which is discussed at p. 389 above. βραχέος µὲν κέρδους ἕνεκα (‘for the sake of a tiny proﬁt’). Or possibly ‘short-lived’ rather than ‘tiny’. For the implied motive, contrast §13n οχ Hβρεω. προθεσµίας δὲ οὐδεµίας οὔσης (‘with no time-limit’). A prothesmia was a period of time ﬁxed by statute, beyond which an offence could not be prosecuted. There is some evidence that procedures related to graphe¯ paranomo¯n, if initiated more than one year after the act, could no longer be brought against the proposer but only against his proposal (Dem. 20.144 with hypothesis 2 §3, though neither text uses the term prothesmia to describe the rule).23 The standard period for prothesmia, however, appears to be ﬁve years: this at least is the only ﬁgure stated by orators who use the word (Dem. 36.26–7, Dem. 38.27, both in cases involving inheritance), and it is generalised by Harpokration s.v. ‘law of prothesmia’ (citing Dem. 36 and Lys. frag. sp. CII Against Menestratos, about which nothing further is known). The phrase ‘the law of prothesmia’ is indeed used at Dem. 36.26, as if referring to a single statute, but this may be shorthand for prothesmia clauses in a range of different laws covering different types of case (thus Harrison 1968–71.ii: 120), and several of Lysias’ clients explicitly claim that prothesmia did not apply in the particular circumstances at issue (impiety cases here, and homicide cases in Lys. 13.83). τοῖς εἰργασµένοις απασι τὸ χωρίον (‘for all the people equally who had cultivated the piece of land’). If it were proved that it had disappeared between two ﬁxed points in time, then any one of those with an intermediate opportunity would potentially be liable. §18. εἰ τοίνυν καὶ ταῦτα παρεσκευασάµην (‘even if I had managed to contrive that as well’). Paraskeuazomai in the Orators tends to imply some form of corrupt practice (cf. 1.42n): here the prosecution have evidently been suggesting that the speaker had procured the silence of potential witnesses (and perhaps also of his own slaves) by means of bribery or intimidation. Evidence for alleged intimidation in Athenian litigation is collected by Dorjahn (1937: esp. 345–346 on witnesses). ἢ τοὺς γείτονας (‘or the neighbours’). On the rôle of neighbours and gossip as elements of social control, see Carey (1989: 131), V. J. Hunter (1994: 96–119). οἱ µὲν ϕίλοι οἱ δὲ διάϕοροι περὶ τῶν ἐµῶν τυγχάνουσιν ὄντες (‘some . . . are my friends, but others, as it happens, are in dispute with me over my property’). The 23 Dem. 20.144 speaks of the defendant having previously being liable (hupeuthunos) but of ‘the time’ (khronoi) having elapsed; hypoth. 2 §3 phrases this as a general rule, and gives the ﬁgure of one year (ν*µο γα`ρ :ν τ ν γρα´ψαντα ν*µον e ψφισµα µετα` νιαυτ ν µD εjναι 7πε$θυνον).

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§18–20

527

admission of existing disputes (which may imply litigation) tends to undermine somewhat the initial presentation of the speaker as a political quietist (cf. §1n), but it may serve to portray him as a normal rather than an exceptional landowner (who is assumed to have enemies as well as friends), and it does in context serve to highlight the opponent’s lack of witnesses. §19. οὓς ἐχρῆν τοῦτον παρασχέσθαι µάρτυρας (‘this man ought to have produced them as witnesses’). The opponent’s lack of witnesses has so far been hinted at intermittently—both here and at e.g. §2 there is reference to speciﬁc potential witnesses who fail to support him, with increasing use of vocabulary of obligation—in preparation for its systematic treatment at §§20–22. ὡς ἐγὼ µὲν παρειστήκειν (‘how I was standing there’), i.e. to supervise (cf. Burford 1993: 84): the opponent has evidently taken care to emphasise that the alleged offence was committed with the knowledge and indeed under the authority of the speaker. οἱ δ’ οἰκέται (‘my slaves’). For the word oikete¯s, see §17n, though here the idea of household membership does not seem to be so relevant. This is the clearest reference in the speech to the use of slaves as agricultural labour: Wood (1988: 176), the chief proponent of a ‘minimalist’ position on this question, rightly notes that §11 does not speciﬁcally refer to slaves and that §§16–17 and §43 mention them without specifying their occupations, but does not deal with the present passage. For the ‘maximalist’ side of the debate, see Jameson (1978) and Ste Croix (1981: 144, 505–506), the former arguing that a signiﬁcant proportion of peasant farmers will have owned one or two non-specialist slaves and used them in agricultural as well as other contexts, the latter arguing for the extensive use of slave-labour on the land of the rich. The debate is surveyed with additional contributions by Fisher (1993: 37–47), by Burford (1993: 208 with n. 69), by R. G. Osborne (1995: 32–33), and by N. F. Jones (2004: 63–65). ἐξέτεµνον τὰ πρέµνα (‘cut out the roots’), and ἀναθέµενος δὲ ὁ βοηλάτης (‘the oxdriver loaded up’). See p. 486 n. 36 and n. 40 above respectively.

Probability argument: Attack on opponent for failing to secure witnesses (§§20–22) §20. ὦ Νικόµαχε (‘Nikomakhos’). The previous argument concentrated increasingly on the risk of potential witnesses (§§15–19); it is now time for the opponent’s failure to secure such evidence (for which cf. also §§34–7) to be made the subject of a direct attack. Given that it is the defendant’s own actions which are formally under consideration, it is relatively uncommon for a defendant to address his opponent by name. In the present speech, the opponent’s name is given here and repeated at §36 and §39, not so much for the purpose of explicit character-assassination (as in Andok. 1.92–102), but rather so as to represent him as somebody who needs to be taught to do his job properly (the closest parallel is

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perhaps the much more extensively didactic treatment of the defendant in Lys. 10.15–21). Nikomakhos is a common name (119 individuals in LGPN Attica, of which this is no. 3 = PA 10935), and given his youth as portrayed in §29 of a speech delivered after 397/6, he should not be identiﬁed with the Nikomakhos who is the defendant in Lys. 30 (LGPN Attica no. 4 = PA 10934), who was old enough to hold public ofﬁce in 410 (Lys. 30.2). For the use of the vocative here (unusual in defence speeches, but perhaps intended as part of a strategy of patronising the prosecutor), see 6.49n. εἰ µέν σοι ἐχθρὸς ἦν (‘assuming that I was your enemy’). Enmity is put forward here only in hypothetical terms, as the basis for an argument about motives. There is a possible hint later in the speech that the speaker is prepared to regard Nikomakhos as a real rather than a hypothetical enemy, but this interpretation is not certain (see §30n): suppressing the possibility of real enmity (§39n) allows Nikomakhos to be presented as a sykophant (§1). For enmity as a motive for legal action, see 1.4n. The construction of possible motives at §§20–21 is interesting for the way that it hints at a link between sykophancy and ﬁnancial proﬁt (though cf. §1n). Together, the three suggested motives—personal vengeance, helping the city, and making a proﬁt—are seen as equally plausible if not perhaps as equally respectable: there is an element of cynicism here. §21. ἢ σὲ πεῖσαι (‘than to win you over’), i.e. by buying you off. As at §18, and often in the Orators, peitho¯ (lit. ‘persuade’) implies the use of ﬁnancial inducements. διὰ τοὺς σοὺς λόγους (‘by means of your speeches’). Assuming that logoi here does denote ‘speeches’ (it could also mean ‘arguments’), it is presumably plural for singular, or perhaps used hypothetically (your skills as speaker). There seems no reason to interpret it as denoting either two speeches at different stages of the trial (attested in cases of homicide, but not in other procedures before the Areiopagos), or else one at the anakrisis and the other in court. ὑπὸ τῆς ἐµῆς δυνάµεως (‘because of my inﬂuence’). For dunamis as political power, see e.g. Isok. 17.46, Lys. 24.25, and perhaps Lys. 27.6; by contrast, the focus at Lys. 6.48 is on ﬁnancial resources. The assumption of the present passage seems to be that money and political inﬂuence go together, and that witnesses might be prevented from appearing not simply by their wish to maintain friendship with the opponent, but also by intimidation on his part (cf. §18n). §22. τοὺς ἐννέα αρχοντας ἐπήγαγες (‘you had called out the Nine Arkhons’). Possibly an allusion to ephe¯ge¯sis,24 a procedure related to apago¯ge¯, but differenti24 Epago¯ is regularly used of ‘bringing’ a prosecution (LSJ s.v. 8), but with the accusative of the procedure and the dative of the person accused (e.g. Dem. 18.249 [graphai, euthunai, and eisangeliai], Dem. 21.110 [presumably dike¯ phonou], Harpok. s.v. exoule¯s); its use here, with public ofﬁcials in the accusative, seems closer to LSJ s.v. 4 (‘bring on as allies’). It is possible that the word is being used as a non-technical synonym for ephe¯geomai, which appears only twice in the Orators (Dem. 22.26 and 26.9), but I have not been able to ﬁnd any parallels.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§22–23

529

ated from it by the fact that whereas in apago¯ge¯ the complainant summarily arrested the defendant and took him before the appropriate ofﬁcials, in ephe¯ge¯sis he led the ofﬁcials to the alleged offender for them to arrest (the standard discussion is Hansen 1976: esp. at pp. 24–26). The procedure however may not be terribly clear in his mind: Carey (1989: 131) is right to note that he is more interested in hypothetical witnesses than in arresting ofﬁcials, though the ﬁnal sentence of §22 does envisage them as potential judges (cf. next note but one). Nor is it entirely clear why the Nine Arkhons collectively are speciﬁed here, as opposed to e.g. the Basileus who had competence over religious matters and may have presided over the present trial,25 unless it is simply to emphasise the scale of support that the prosecutor has failed to draw on. Ober (1989: 219) suggests that the point of mentioning them is that they are less likely to be hypothetically overawed by the speaker. ἢ αλλους τινὰς τῶν ἐξ ̓Αρείου πάγου (‘or else some members of the Areiopagos’). At ﬁrst sight the obvious translation would be ‘or some other members of the Areiopagos’. This would involve accepting the view that Arkhons became lifemembers of the Areiopagos at the start of their term of ofﬁce, and would seem to conﬂict with Ath.Pol. 60.3, which speaks of their going up to the Areiopagos at the end of their term. Several scholars have argued for this view (e.g. Forrest & Stockton 1987, followed by Marr 1990), insisting that this is the only natural reading of the Greek here,26 and suggesting that the membership of sitting Arkhons might have been only provisional. Idiomatically, however, allos (lit. ‘other’) is regularly used to mean ‘besides’ or ‘as well’ in situations where the ﬁrstnamed are not members of the group which allos qualiﬁes (thus LSJ s.v. II.8). The translation adopted here, ‘or else some members’, is that proposed by MacDowell (1963: 40, with parallels), and accepted by e.g. Harrison (1968–71.ii: 37 n. 3) and Wallace (1989: 94 n. 3). οἵπερ καὶ διαγιγνώσκειν ἔµελλον (‘the ones who are also going to decide the verdict’). There is no ﬁrm rule about the verbs diagigno¯sko¯ (as here) and dikazo¯, both of which mean ‘to judge’, but the former is applied with disproportionate frequency to the decisions of courts which, like the Areiopagos and (at least initially) the other homicide courts, were not manned by dikastai: thus e.g. Ant. 1.22, Ant. 6.3, Lys. 3.2, here, and the laws quoted in Dem. 23.28, 37, 38 (though for its use of dikastic courts, see e.g. Andok. 1.5, Aiskhin. 1.32).

Probability argument: Arguments about gain as a possible motive (§§23–29) §23. ὅσῳ εἰ µὲν παρέσχετο µάρτυρας (‘given that if he had produced witnesses’). The transition to the third person marks the conclusion of the direct attack on 25 Rauchenstein & Fuhr (1899: 42) assume that the reference here is simply to the Basileus, but this seems linguistically odd. 26 Frohberger & Thalheim (1892: 126) regard this as linguistically right but historically implausible, and opt for the assumption of loose logic.

530

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§23–25

the opponent (§§20–22), and simultaneously prepares the way for what Bateman (1958a: 129) describes as ‘a construct [of arguments] . . . on a grander scale than is usual in Lysias’ speeches’. In a detailed analysis (Bateman 1958a: 129–33), he outlines a series of arguments from analogy and contrast focusing on the idea of gain: the speaker would have gained far more by a similar offence on his other properties, but has never been accused of this (§§24–26), even though such an offence could more easily have been committed at a different time (§27), all of which makes the alleged offence highly improbable (§28), and leads to the conclusion that they should trust the facts rather than the opponent’s words (§29). This contrast leads into an account of the speaker’s public record (§§30–33), itself designed ‘to foster the judges’ acceptance of the “facts” which the speaker has presented’ (Bateman 1958a: 132). ζηµίαν (‘detrimental’), lit. a ‘punishment’ or ‘cause of loss’. συκοϕαντῶν (‘given that he is a sykophant’). As at §1n, §20n, and §34n. §24. ἐν τῷ πεδίῳ . . . ἐν τοῖς αλλοις τοῖς ἐµοῖς χωρίοις (‘in the plain . . . on my other pieces of land’). The plain is presumably the plain of Athens (for the demes in this area, see R. G. Osborne 1985a: 199), but it is not clear whether the implication is that this is one of his properties in the plain, or that it is not one of them (see §4n). The argument that the speaker would have been more likely to remove a moria on one of his other properties rests on one of two assumptions: either that removal is an act of wanton deﬁance designed to offend religious susceptibilities (the scandals underlying Lys. 6 might provide a possible parallel, but the speaker explicitly insists at §13 that the motive for such offences is proﬁt rather than hubris); or alternatively that all moriai are equally inconvenient (but as Heitsch 1961: 212 points out, to reduce them from, say, 23 to 22 on a given piece of land is far less useful than to clear a single one). πυρκαιάς (‘burnt ones’).27 Purkaia as a noun normally denotes conﬂagration or a funeral pyre. There are no parallels for its use here to denote a tree that has been damaged by burning, and the text has been doubted. Hanson (1998 [1983]: 58–60), however, notes that the olive is difﬁcult both to ignite and to kill by burning—he translates purkaiai here as ‘the charred’, and interprets them as living stumps which will in due course re-sprout—and suggests that the rarity of the usage may be an indication that it was militarily unusual to try to set light to olive groves, an operation for which we have surprisingly few references (for instance, he ﬁnds only two examples of the burning of any form of tree in Xenophon’s Hellenika, at 4.5.10 and 5.2.39). §25. <καὶ τὴν πατρίδα> καὶ τὴν αλλην οὐσίαν (‘my fatherland and the rest of my property’), cf. the discussion of the penalty at p. 484 above. 27

My somewhat awkward translation is intended not to prejudice the question of whether he is thinking of them as stumps or as trees.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§25–27

531

αὐτοὺς τοίνυν ὑµᾶς µάρτυρας παρέξοµαι (‘I shall produce you yourselves as my witnesses of this’). For the topos, cf. 10.1n. ἐπιµελουµένους µὲν ἑκάστου µηνός (‘you take up the responsibility every month’). The precise signiﬁcance of this phrase has to be inferred from the speech, as there is no independent evidence. Rauchenstein & Fuhr (1899: 33) suggest that it denotes an agenda item at monthly sessions of the Areiopagos, but the phrase 9σοι µα´λιστα τν τοιο$των πιµελε;σθε (‘those of you who have a particular responsibility for such things’) at §7 suggests that the reference is to monthly visits from a committee of epimele¯tai (attested also at §29), and that there is a contrast here with the annual inspection by epigno¯mones (cf. following note). ἐπιγνώµονας δὲ πέµποντας καθ’ ἕκαστον ἐνιαυτόν (‘you send out inspectors every year’). The manuscript reading is γν=µονα, but πιγν=µονα is read by Harpokration and Favorinus (for the lexicographical testimonia to this speech, see generally p. 477 with n. 2 above). οὐδεὶς πώποτ’ ἐζηµίωσέ µ’ ὡς ἐργαζόµενον τὰ περὶ τὰς µορίας χωρία (‘none of these has ever penalised me for working the land around the moriai’). The clearest evidence in the speech that not simply destruction but encroachment was punishable, though evidently with much lesser penalties (see following note). Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 116 n. 2) suggest plausibly that what is envisaged here are summary penalties rather than those imposed following a court-hearing. The normal term for a summary ﬁne is epibole¯ (for which see p. 589 with n. 33 below), with its cognate verb being epiballo¯ (e.g. Lys. 15.5; 30.3), but the use of the more general verb ze¯mioo¯ (‘to punish’, normally with a ﬁne, LSJ s.v. II) in such contexts is not unparalleled (e.g. Lys. 9.6, 11; 20.14). §26. τὰς µὲν µικρὰς ζηµίας (‘these small penalties’). Bateman (1958a: 131) draws attention to the function of this claim within the construction of the argument about gain and opportunity, and notes the ironic tone. A modern parallel would perhaps be ‘I’ve never even had a speeding ticket’, though in this case it may be the social acceptability of the offence that is at issue, rather than the smallness of the penalty. τὴν δὲ µίαν, ἣν οὐχ οἷόν τ’ ἦν λαθεῖν ἐξορύξαντα, ὡς ἀϕανίζων νυνὶ κρίνοµαι (‘but I am now on trial for having removed a single one, which I could not have dug out without being noticed’). Carey, in common with the majority of editors, accepts Blass’s emendation µαν (‘one’) for the manuscript reading µοραν (which would mean ‘am on trial for having removed a moria’). For the verb exorutto¯ (here alone in the speech), see p. 486 above. §27. πότερον δέ µοι κρεῖττον ἦν (‘which was easier’). Even with the immediate insistence that he was not powerful then and is not under suspicion now, it is a dangerous game to draw further attention to his presence in Athens under the Thirty (contrast the care taken to delay mention of the arkhonship of Pythodoros

532

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§27–28

from §4 to §9). On the other hand, such a high-risk strategy is a way of encoding self-conﬁdence (cf. Lys. 25.17 for a similar argument). δηµοκρατίας οὔσης . . . ἢ ἐπὶ τῶν τριάκοντα (‘during the democracy, or under the Thirty’). This is striking for its assumptions about the rôle of rational planning in criminal motivation. Given that the Thirty came into ofﬁce claiming to be political reformers (Ostwald 1986: 465, with refs.; for an attempt to reconstruct their aims, see Krentz 1982: 56–68), it is also an indication of the scale of their failure that the speaker and his audience can agree without discussion that their rule was a good time to commit not simply certain crimes but crimes of all types: a similar view of the Thirty is taken at Lys. 25.15–17, Isok. 18.18, and Isok. 21.12. ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ χρόνῳ (‘at that time’), i.e. under the Thirty. §28. πάντων ἀνθρώπων ἐµαυτῷ κακονούστατος (‘my own worst enemy living’), lit. ‘of all mankind’. ὑµῶν οὕτως ἐπιµελουµένων (‘given that you were responsible in this way’), sc. as the Areiopagos. ἐν ᾧ δένδρον µὲν οὐδὲ ἕν ἐστι, µιᾶς δὲ ἐλαίας σηκός, ὡς οὗτός ϕησιν (‘there was not even one single tree there, but only the se¯kos of a single olive, or so this man claims’), i.e. no tree of any type, such that anybody removing the moria would have been obvious because of the unrestricted visibility. For the failure to mention this point at earlier stages in the speech, see §10n and esp. §14n; for the possibility that there were no buildings on this piece of land, see §4n. The claim here that there was no tree but only a se¯kos could be read as an argument in support of Foxhall’s view that se¯kos means fence rather than stump (see p. 486 with n. 37 above); but given that the speaker denies that there ever was a se¯kos, he probably is not thinking of the tree or stump which on this hypothesis his opponents would be claiming was inside it. ἀµϕοτέρωθεν δὲ γείτονες περιοικοῦσιν (‘neighbours lived on both sides’). The argument here would seem to presuppose that individual pieces of landed property in rural Attica were for the most part relatively small, or at least that they were not routinely of such a size that the audience would readily imagine extensive tree surgery being kept invisible from the neighbours. The mainly literary evidence for the size of individual pieces of property is analysed by Burford,28 who notes that the largest estates attested by area do not exceed 200–300 plethra, which is no more than ﬁve times what she postulates as the

28 Burford-Cooper (1977–78: 170–171), who notes that the estate of Phainippos in Dem. 42 has been ‘conclusively deﬂated’ by Ste Croix (1966). In subsequent work, she seems to have moved towards seeing 300 plethra as in some sense a statutory upper limit (Burford 1993: 68 with n. 43 and 112 n. 22), which seems to me more doubtful.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §28

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typical ‘zeugite [i.e. minimum hoplite] plot’ of 40–60 plethra.29 Some scholars have used these ﬁgures to argue for relatively egalitarian distribution of mediumsized landholdings (thus e.g. Hanson 1995: 186–189), though it should be noted that we rarely know for certain whether a particular piece of land comprises the totality of a wealthy individual’s property. Indeed, there is extensive literary and epigraphic evidence for rich Athenians with multiple holdings,30 either as the result of a system of land-tenure which prioritised acquisition through partible inheritance and transmission of dowry from mother to son (Harrison 1968–71.i: 57), or as part of a pre-industrial risk-avoidance strategy designed to deal with climatic variation (Isager & Skydsgaard 1992: 128), or indeed perhaps both. Unlike other references to ‘neighbours’ in literary descriptions of rural Attica— the ambiguity of the term is acknowledged by N. F. Jones (2004: 42–43), who notes that it may simply denote ownership of surrounding land—the choice of verb here seems to imply residence: if so, this will be relevant to the debate over nucleated rural settlements versus isolated farmsteads, for which see p. 58 n. 55 above. αερκτον (‘unenclosed’).31 It is hard to know how common this will have been. Hanson (1998 [1983]: 43) claims that rural properties in Attica ‘were often surrounded by a fence or ﬁeld wall of rubble (easily collected from almost any Greek ﬁeld), earthen banks, or planted hedges’, and the extensive use of dry-stone walls throughout the ancient Greek world is hypothesised by Rhodes & Osborne (2003: 285). But it is in the nature of such structures that they leave few datable traces in the material record (cf. Foxhall 1996: 60–64, on the difﬁculties of dating terrace walls). The clearest positive archaeological evidence in rural Attica is at the Cliff Tower in the Agrileza Valley near Sounion, where Langdon (in Langdon & Watrous 1977: 175) suggests that the inner ﬁeld wall served as an animal pen, but identiﬁes the outer one as a perimeter boundary; he notes however that the latter is not paralleled at other rural sites in Attica such as the Vari or Dema Wall 29

When used as a measure of area, there are about 4 plethra to the acre, or 11 to the hectare. It is possibly relevant that both in public auctions conducted by the Po¯le¯tai, and also in private documents such as wills, Athenians seem normally to have located pieces of landed property by identifying either neighbours or bordering landmarks on two or four of the compass points: such a system may presuppose the expectation that a given property will have one predominantly identiﬁable neighbour on each side. 30 Multiple holdings: a range of literary evidence is discussed by Finley (1985a [1951]: 57, focusing on geographical dispersion) and by Pritchett in the editio princeps of the Attic Stelai (Pritchett, Amyx & Pippin 1953–58.ii: 271–272, a full catalogue of cases for which the Orators give values). The Attic Stelai indeed provide the clearest epigraphical evidence for multiple holdings (a point emphasised again by Pritchett 1953–58.ii: 275–276), though R. G. Osborne (1985a: 50–51) has suggested that the owners seem mainly to have been young men who may not have taken control of their family estates, and that one of the cases of multiple ownership relates to an individual owning various properties all fairly close to the city. The speaker himself certainly has other estates: see §24n. 31 A rare word, which attracted the attention of the lexicographers. There are overlapping brief entries in Harpokration, the Souda, and Photios, probably referring to this passage since they refer speciﬁcally to Lysias and emphasise in addition visibility from all sides. For the testimonia to this speech, see generally p. 477 with n. 2 above.

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7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§28–29

houses. A priori, provided the boundary was clearly identiﬁed—which could, as Langdon notes, be done by cairns or by horoi32—we might expect continuous structures to be needed primarily for the purposes of agricultural terracing, stock-control, or possibly the protection of religious sanctuaries.33 The epigraphical evidence gives a mixed impression, with some of the more detailed agricultural leases including requirements to repair simply buildings, but others including boundary walls as well.34 Literary texts rarely mention perimeter walls or fences, though we do hear of Miltiades being injured in an attempt to climb over the boundary of a sanctuary,35 but there are a few passages in the Orators which seem to presuppose that perimeter walls are not universal: most notable is the explanation of why Kallikles had built the contested wall at Dem. 55.10–11, which seems to imply that it was only required because ﬂood damage had created a path and had led to a situation in which neighbours began to trespass on his land; similarly at Dem. 42.5 and Dem. 47.53 there is no mention of perimeter walls in contexts where we might have expected them, though absence of evidence is by no means conclusive evidence for absence. Overall, my sense is that the present passage is worded in such a way as to suggest a mixed picture. In theory, all that the speaker needs to prove is that any form of boundary structure was not high enough to block the view, so it would seem pointless to assert without comment that no such thing existed, if such a situation were so rare as to excite disbelief. On the other hand, if perimeter walls in that area were wholly exceptional, we might expect him to have made the point more strongly. §29. τὸν απαντα χρόνον (‘in perpetuity’). It is not formally clear whether he means that the Areiopagos has always had these powers, or that it always will have them. If the latter meaning is included, then there may be an attempt here to buy into the rhetoric that the powers of the Areiopagos are unchangeable (cf. Dem. 23.66 on its homicide jurisdiction). On the contrasts here between the ancestral and ofﬁcial status of the Areiopagos and the opponent as a jumped-up busybody, see Carey (1989: 134). 32 On the other hand, dishonest removal of horoi in the Orators seems always to be envisaged as a fraud against creditors or potential claimants (Finley 1985a [1951]: 16–19), and the moving of boundary markers does not seem to be presented as a form of encroachment (as it is in the Old Testament: Levit. 19.14 and 27.17). For possible changes over time in the signiﬁcance of horoi even within the Classical period, see Ober (2005 [1995]). 33 For rules restricting the pasturing of animals at a variety of Greek sanctuary sites, see Lupu (2005: 26–28). 34 The Dyaleis and Rhamnous leases (respectively IG ii2, 1241, with Lambert 1998 [1993]: 299–307; and IG ii2, 2493, with Jameson 1982: at p. 67) both present detailed speciﬁcations relating to the upkeep of buildings and of vines, but mention no other walls or fences; the upkeep of boundary walls as well as terrace walls, however, is included in the Arkesine lease (Rhodes & Osborne 2003, no. 59, lines 17–20). 35 Hdt. 6.134: <τ > cρκο Θεσµοφ*ρου ∆µητρο 7περθορε;ν, ο δυνα´µενον τα` θ$ρα α2νο;ξαι. Plut. Life of Solon, 23.7, refers to laws banning the planting of trees within a speciﬁed distance (generally ﬁve feet, or nine in the case of ﬁgs or olives) of a neighbour’s boundary, but speciﬁes that this is because their roots extend outwards and suck up nourishment, without mentioning any damage they might do to perimeter walls.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§29–30

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ὃς οὔτε γεωργῶν ἐγγὺς τυγχάνει οὔτ’ ἐπιµελητὴς ᾑρηµένος (‘does not farm nearby, nor has he been appointed as an inspector’).36 R. G. Osborne (1985b: 52) points out that whereas a graphe¯ could by deﬁnition be brought by any citizen, nevertheless where there was an injured party it was almost always he who prosecuted. Similarly here the assumption is that the people who ought to take action even in public cases are those immediately affected, and by implication therefore that the present prosecution is sykophantic (cf. §1n), though the opponent could presumably respond by claiming that he is acting as an outsider because the neighbours have been nobbled by the speaker (cf. the discussion of intimidation at §18n and §21n). On epimele¯te¯s (‘inspector’), see §25n. οὔθ’ ἡλικίαν ἔχων εἰδέναι περὶ τῶν τοιούτων (‘nor was he of an age to know about the events’, [lit. ‘things like this’]). Given that Nikomakhos must have been adult or on the verge of adulthood in 397/6 in order to be old enough to prosecute in the present trial, it is not clear what events speciﬁcally the speaker has in mind here, but he may be referring with deliberate vagueness to the history of the property as recounted in §§4–11. ἀπογράψαι (‘he is accusing me’): cognate of apographe¯, cf. §2n.

Probability argument: The speaker’s public record (§§30–33) §30. µὴ τοὺς τοιούτους λόγους πιστοτέρους ἡγήσασθαι τῶν ἔργων (‘not to regard speeches like this as more credible than actions’). On the words/deeds contrast in Lysias, see Albini (1955: 417 n. 1). For the link with the preceding argument, see §23n. περὶ ὧν αὐτοὶ σύνιστε (‘matters about which you yourselves are knowledgeable’). Appeals to the audience’s knowledge are common in the Orators, and the rhetorical theorists were well aware of the possibilities of suggestion (cf. 10.1n). In this instance, however, the reference is presumably to the supervisory rôle of the Areiopagos as outlined in §25. τῶν ἐµῶν ἐχθρῶν λεγόντων (‘the allegations of my enemies’ [lit. ‘my enemies speaking’]). It is possible that this is a reference simply to Nikomakhos himself (plural for singular), in which case we would have an implied acknowledgment that he is no longer a hypothetical but a real enemy (§20n), but it could simply be a version of the allegation that Nikomakhos is acting as the front-man for more serious enemies of the speaker (cf. §39n). ἐκ τῆς αλλης πολιτείας (‘the rest of my conduct as a citizen’), lit. ‘the rest of <my> politeia’. For this use of politeia, see LSJ s.v I.2 (of the references cited there, however, Andok. 2.10 is a better parallel than Dem. 19.184, where it seems to signify ‘political system’).

36

The verb used here (haireomai) normally implies election rather than selection by lot, but Rhodes (1981: 329) notes that there are exceptions, and my translation is intended not to prejudice the matter.

536

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§31–34

§31. καὶ τριηραρχῶν καὶ εἰσϕορὰς εἰσϕέρων καὶ χορηγῶν καὶ ταλλα λῃτουργῶν (‘as Trierarkh, as contributor to eisphorai, as Khore¯gos, and in all the other liturgies’). Accounts of the speaker’s public services in Lysias’ speeches before the Areiopagos tend to be relatively short on detail (see 3.47n), but the speaker here is careful nevertheless to list all the various possible categories of public service, and to emphasise repeatedly his attitude towards them—he speaks of his enthusiasm (προθυµ*τερον, §31; cf. προθ$µω, §32n) and of his generous expenditure (πολυτελ, §31), and cf. the further reference to his military service at §41—even though he gives no details and calls no evidence. §32. ταῦτα µὲν µετρίως ποιῶν ἀλλὰ µὴ προθύµως (‘if I had performed [lit. “by performing”] them adequately but not enthusiastically’). The phenomenon of overspending (either by volunteering on additional occasions or by spending more than the statutory minimum) is discussed at 3.47n. To have performed his liturgies less enthusiastically would certainly have left him wealthier (πλεω δ’ αgν κεκτµην, ‘I would have had more possessions’), but it is not clear why he is claiming that it would have kept him out of court, unless he means that it was his prominence (which may perhaps further undermine his claims to quietism at §1n) that had attracted sykophantic accusation. For the vocabulary of enthusiasm, see §37n. οὔτ’ αν περὶ ϕυγῆς οὔτ’ αν περὶ τῆς αλλης οὐσίας ἠγωνιζόµην (‘I would not now be on trial risking exile and the remainder of my property’), lit. ‘on trial concerning exile’, etc. The implications of this for the penalty faced are discussed at p. 484 above. §33. πάντες αν ὁµολογήσαιτε (‘you would all agree’). On the use of this gno¯me¯ to round off the argument, see Bateman (1958a: 53). τοῖς µεγάλοις χρῆσθαι τεκµηρίοις περὶ τῶν µεγάλων (‘to use major pieces of evidence in important cases’), lit. ‘to use great proofs/signs concerning great matters’. For the use of tekme¯rion in Lysias, see 4.12n.

Probability argument: The challenge to torture slaves (§§34–37) §34. ἐκ τῶν αλλων σκέψασθε (‘there are other points to bear in mind as well’ [lit. ‘you are to examine on the basis of other things’]). At ﬁrst sight this looks like a sharp break in the argument, but the links with what precedes are analysed by Bateman, who points out that it not only develops the idea presented at §23 and implied in §§30–33 that the prosecution is sykophantic (1958a: 133), but also refocuses attention on the central argument of §§12–22, that there was evidence which the opponent could have utilised (1958a: 95). µάρτυρας γὰρ ἔχων (‘ with witnesses’). This is a briefer but much more systematic example of a challenge to slave-torture than the other example in the Lysianic corpus (for which see 4.10n). Thür discusses various characteristic features of the procedure, including the fact that the challenge here is, as often, implied rather than explicitly introduced by the word prokle¯sis or its cognates

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§34–35

537

(Thür 1977: 60 n. 2); the mention of witnesses to the challenge (1977: 81–82, noting also on p. 133 that in speeches before the Areiopagos these are not normally produced in court, cf. Ant. 1.9, Ant. 6.24, Lys. 4.10); the use of phrases with hetoimos (‘ready’, 1977: 61–62), and paradido¯mi (‘to hand over’, 1977: 64–65); the topics on which the slaves’ knowledge is to be tested (in this case as often implied rather than stated, 1977: 124–126); and above all the fact that the challenge is almost always rejected (1977: 233–234, cf. Gagarin 1996: 9 for the point that litigants are much more ready to recount their challenge and the opponent’s refusal, as here, than vice versa). There are however several features which deserve notice for being less widespread, in particular the fact that the process in the earliest orators, Antiphon and Lysias, seems to have been less formal than it later became (Carey 1989: 137), and also the relative rarity of the challenge in the corpus of Lysias as compared with those of e.g. Antiphon or Demosthenes: on the ﬁgures presented by Thür (1977: 60), challenges are made in 23 of the 103 forensic speeches of the Orators, but only 2 of the 29 in the Lysianic corpus (the other example is Lys. 4.15, though cf. also the hypothetical mention of torture at Lys. 3.33). ἐπειδὴ παρέλαβον τὸ χωρίον (‘when I took over the land’). This could mean when he bought the property in 404/3 (§9), or when he began farming it himself in 397/6 (§12). The ambiguity may be deliberate, particularly if Carey is right (though cf. p. 484 above) to suggest that the offence was really committed at the earlier date. τὸν ἔλεγχον ἰσχυρότερον γενέσθαι (‘this proof would be more reliable’). Thür (1977: 290–301, with refs., and cf. also next note but one) points out that whereas the rhetorical theorists are more even-handed, the Orators tend overwhelmingly to claim that slave torture is more reliable than witness testimony, rather than vice versa. The signiﬁcance of this point for the seriousness with which the courts seem to have regarded the use of torture is explored in Gagarin (1996: 7–9), and cf. §43n. Note the contrast (repeated from §30) between words and deeds, once again to the detriment of the former. §35. τοῖς θεράπουσιν (‘about slaves’). Because Greek regularly uses the deﬁnite article to denote a class of objects, it is impossible to determine on purely linguistic grounds whether this means ‘the slaves’ (i.e. these ones) or ‘slaves’ (as a general class). In context, however, the latter seems more plausible, for reasons suggested by Gagarin (1996: 9 n. 43), who notes that the second half of §35 seems no longer to be envisaging the adversarial challenge to torture slaves for evidence (as at §34), but instead to be hypothesising the judicial torture of slaves who have guilty knowledge (hence the language about accusing themselves). ἐµοὶ δὲ δοκεῖ <δεινὸν> εἶναι (‘but to me it seems extraordinary’). For the rarity of such general objections to the trustworthiness of slave evidence, in this case based on the premise that torture may not succeed in breaking down their loyalty to their masters, see last note but one: the main examples in the Orators are Ant.

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5.31–32 and Dem. 37.41 (though for the rhetorical theorists see also Aristotle, Rhetoric, 1.15.26 = 1376b31–1377a7, and Anaxim., Rhet. Alex., 16.2–3 = 1432a19–33). The rhetoric of natural enmity of slaves towards their masters is discussed at 5.5n. τῶν παρόντων κακῶν (‘their immediate sufferings’). In context this surely refers to torture (as Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 131, Carey 1989: 138), rather than the resumption of slavery (as Shuckburgh 1892 [1882]: 209). §36. τοῦ κινδύνου οὐκ ἴσου ἀµϕοτέροις ὄντος (‘the danger for the two of us is not equal’). For the language of risk in such procedures, see Todd (1990a: 32–33). §37. οὐδεµιᾷ ζηµίᾳ ἔνοχος ἦν (‘he would not have been liable to any penalty’). Since ze¯mia can denote any type of ofﬁcially sanctioned loss or damage, it is not clear what the speaker has in mind here. Possibilities range from the need to pay compensation for hypothetical damage to the slaves, to the ﬁnes imposed for failing to gain 20 per cent of the votes in certain public cases. Given that the speaker is trying to make the risks sound unequal, it is probably unwise to infer from this passage (with Gernet & Bizos 1955 [1924].i: 119 n. 1 and Albini 1955: 417 n. 12) that impiety cases must have been exempt from the 20 per cent rule. (The phrase α2κινδ$νω ψε$δεσθαι ‘is lying without any risk’ in §38 is no more secure a foundation for this belief, despite Harrison 1968–71.ii: 175 n. 4.) εἰς τοῦτο προθυµίας ἀϕικόµην, ἡγούµενος (‘the reason why I was so eager was that I thought’), lit. ‘I arrived at this state of eagerness thinking. . .’. The connotations of prothumia in the Orators vary according to context: negatively, it forms part of a topos criticising the unfairness of the prosecution;37 but it can also be used to describe enthusiastic service in the interests of the democracy (as at Lys. 12.50), and the cognate adverb prothumo¯s is used twice in this speech at §§31–32 to denote the speaker’s performance of his liturgies. µετ’ ἐµοῦ (‘in my interests’): perhaps ‘in my power’. ἐκ βασάνων (‘from evidence under torture’). For the use of basanos to denote either torture itself or the process of challenge, see 4.12n φυγ*ντο µο'. ἐκ τεκµηρίων (‘from presumptive proofs’), lit. ‘proofs/signs’. For the use of tekme¯rion in Lysias, see 4.12n 9σον αgν γ νετο.

Probability argument: Implications for opponent’s motives (§§38–41) §38. µηδεὶς τετόλµηκε (‘nobody has dared to do so’), i.e. nobody has had the cheek, rather than meaning that nobody has had the courage, though it is interesting that he uses this phrase, which could on an unsympathetic ear be regarded as an admission of his opponent’s allegation of intimidation (cf. §18n and §21n).

37

‘You see the paraskeue¯ (preparation) and prothumia of my enemies’: Lys. 19.2; Lys. frag. 118 On behalf of Euthunous against Nikias; cf. Andok. 1.1. For paraskeue¯, see 3.2n.

7. Concerning the Se¯kos: Commentary §§38–41

539

πότερον εἰκὸς µᾶλλον τοῦτον ἀκινδύνως ψεύδεσθαι (‘whether it is more likely that this man is lying without any risk’). Some scholars have inferred that cases of impiety were exempt from rules penalising a prosecutor in many public cases who failed to obtain 20 per cent of the votes, but see §37n. συκοϕαντοῦντα αἰτιάσασθαι (‘bringing a sykophantic accusation’). On sykophancy, see §1n, §20n; for its rôle in the structure of the speech, see §34n. §39. ὑπὸ τῶν <ἐχθρῶν> πεισθεὶς τῶν ἐµῶν (‘because he has been persuaded by my enemies’). Earlier in the speech, three possible motives for the prosecutor were envisaged (§20n), but here the possibilities have been reduced to two by suppressing the hypothesis of enmity, leaving only the false dichotomy of public spirit or personal proﬁt. The idea that the opponent is acting as front-man for others behind the scenes is a topos in Lysias (Voegelin 1943: 89 compares Lys. 14.21 and Lys. 26.5, 13, 21), but here it is introduced so late and so casually that it seems to carry little conviction. ἀλλ’ ὡς ἀργύριον παρ’ ἐµοῦ λήψεσθαι προσδοκῶν (‘but hopes to receive money from me’). This would ﬁt the model of sykophancy as personal enrichment (for which cf. §20n), but it is less easy to reconcile with the immediately preceding allegation that the opponent is acting as front-man, because we would assume that the speaker’s enemies are out to destroy him rather than simply to extract some of his surplus cash. <οἱ> τοιοῦτοί εἰσιν ἐπαιτιώτατοι καὶ ἀπορώτατοι τῶν κινδύνων (‘these types of trial are the most unpleasant and the most difﬁcult to deal with’). M. H. Morgan (1894: 49–50) notes that the oddity here is the active sense of epaitios (rare and normally passive, ‘deserving blame’), but suggests that the lexicographer’s gloss of παιτι=τατοι as συκοφα´νται (‘very blameworthy: sykophants’, Diko¯n Onomata in Lexica Segueriana, p. 188.5 [Bekker]) might refer to this passage: if so, and if the lexicographer is correct in reading τοιο'τοι as a reference to sykophants, we would need to delete τν κινδ$νων (‘of trials’), and translate as ‘the more culpable and hard to deal with such men are, so much the more should all avoid them’. ϕεύγουσι: lit. ‘[everybody] ﬂees’, often used metaphorically of defending oneself in a law court, but here presumably ‘tries to avoid’. §40. οὐκ αν δικαίως πιστεύοιτε (‘people that you cannot with justice trust’). The indeﬁnite construction is because toioutous (lit. ‘that sort of people’) hypothetically includes others as well as Nikomakhos. §41. απαις µὲν ὢν καὶ µόνος (‘I would be childless and on my own’), lit. ‘being childless’, which may or may not continue the potential sense of the previous clause. Given the following statements about his mother and his fatherland, I am inclined to read this as the isolation that would result if he were driven into exile, but it may be a statement of present fact (as Davies 1971: no. D.15, p. 594).

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ἐρήµου δὲ τοῦ οἴκου γενοµένου (‘my household would be made desolate’). For a household to become ‘desolate’ (i.e. with no heir to carry on cult responsibilities) is a matter of concern particularly in inheritance speeches, where it is frequently put forward to justify adoption (ere¯mos and cognates occur in close proximity with oikos on ten occasions in the speeches of Isaios, and sixteen times in Dem. 43–44). For it to be presented as an argument against a conviction is to my knowledge without parallel. πολλὰς µὲν ναυµαχίας ὑπὲρ αὐτῆς νεναυµαχηκώς, πολλὰς δὲ µάχας µεµαχηµένος (‘even though I had fought many sea-battles on its behalf, and many landbattles’). As Trierarkh and presumably as hoplite (or cavalryman): a further development of the list of benefactions at §31, but this time focusing on the danger faced rather than the expenditure undertaken. κόσµιον δ’ ἐµαυτὸν καὶ ἐν δηµοκρατίᾳ καὶ ἐν ὀλιγαρχίᾳ παρασχών (‘had showed myself to be a well-behaved person under both the democracy and the oligarchy’). For kosmios (‘responsible’, ‘orderly’), see 1.26n. This passage displays the same conﬁdent tone as when drawing a similar contrast at §27, though here the focus is on quietism (for which cf. §1n) rather than more active political virtues.

§§42–3 Peroration §42. ἐνθάδε (‘in your court’), lit. ‘here’. There may be a hint here of the rule that one was not supposed to introduce irrelevant material before the Areiopagos (cf. 3.46n). οὐκ ἐνῆν (‘there was never’), lit. ‘there was not’. τεκµήρια (‘evidence’), lit. ‘proofs/signs’. Lysias’ use of tekme¯rion is discussed at 4.12n. διαγιγνώσκειν (‘decide your verdict’). For the verb, cf. §22n. ἐξὸν ἐπ’ αὐτοϕώρῳ ἐλέγξαι (‘when he could have convicted me in the act’, though cf. the argument of Harris 1994: 179 n. 42 that in this passage it has to mean ‘red-handed’ rather than ‘caught in the act’). For the phrase ep’ autopho¯ro¯i, and its tendentious use esp. at Lys. 13.85–87, see 1.21n: it is normally associated with the group of procedures related to apago¯ge¯, though this does not seem to be the case here (Hansen 1976: 53). §43. ἐκ τῶν λόγων (‘on the basis of his speech’ [lit. ‘from words’]). Once again the words/deeds contrast, as in §30 and §34, though here witnesses are apparently classed as deeds rather than words. τοὺς θεράποντας (‘my slaves’). The climactic position given to the opponent’s refusal of the challenge to torture, as if this is the clinching point, may imply an expectation that the court will take it more seriously than is sometimes assumed by scholars (cf. §34n).

Lysias 8 Accusation of Defamatory Speech against the Sunousiastai Introduction I. GENERIC OBSCURITY This is generally agreed to be by some way the oddest of the speeches in the corpus of Lysias, and possibly of any Attic Orator. Certainly of the speeches in this volume it is the most difﬁcult for which to identify a context and a date. It was discussed in detail by several critics in the second half of the nineteenth century, a period during which it became fashionable in Lysianic scholarship to explain several of the more problematic speeches by suggesting that what we have in such cases is not the original text as putatively written by Lysias, but a reworking made by a later epitomiser, whose misunderstandings could therefore be held randomly responsible for any residual difﬁculties.1 Like other theories which are resistant to negative veriﬁcation, this fashion was highly contentious, and the speech therefore attracted detailed analysis also from scholars seeking to deny the possibility of a Lysianic original and to brand it simply as spurious, although this raised the further question of whether it was written for a real or a ﬁctitious occasion.2 1 Thus Gleiniger (1875), in a paper devoted entirely to this speech. There is a brief suggestion to the same effect in Dobree (1874: 203). Stutzer (1879) offers a detailed interpretation as epitomes not simply of Lys. 8 but also of Lys. 9 and Lys. 20, and claims in passing that Lys. 4 and Lys. 30 are also epitomes (Stutzer 1879: 521 n. 1; for Lys. 4, see in more detail Stutzer 1881: 100–113). Other proponents of epitome theory include Aelbrecht (1878) on Lys. 20, who in passing expresses support for Gleiniger’s view of Lys. 8 (Aelbrecht 1878: 29). The one certain example of epitome in the corpus, however, is Lys. 11, for which see p. 640 below. 2 Buermann (1876), in a full-scale response speciﬁcally to Gleiniger’s paper in the previous year’s volume of the same journal, argues that the speech is a rhetorical exercise (melete¯) written by a postclassical sophist for a ﬁctitious occasion (Buermann 1876: 373–374); Polak, in a series of papers primarily on textual issues, nevertheless devotes over two-thirds of his discussion of this speech to the question of authorship (Polak 1901–03.iii: 157–168, at pp. 157–164), concluding that the occasion was genuine and that the speech could have been written in the late fourth or early third century. (Dating is discussed further in the ﬁnal section of this Introduction.) The views of other scholars on the

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Notwithstanding this ﬂurry of interest, the consensus of those late-nineteenthcentury scholars who worked on the totality of the corpus was that the speech was of little value. Blass (1887 [1868]: 644), for instance, claimed that nothing would have been lost to Greek literature if it had not survived. Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 301) went further, describing it as ‘too uniformly dreary to be mistaken for a joke’,3 and concluding that ‘it is scarcely worth while to inquire how this curiously absurd composition ﬁrst came among the works of Lysias’. As a result, the speech has largely dropped out of fashion, and although it is discussed by those scholars who cover the entire corpus,4 there has to my knowledge been no full-scale treatment since the 1926 commentary by P. A. Müller, the one possible exception being its inclusion among a selection of ﬁfteen speeches selected for translation and brief comment by Freeman.5 What makes Lys. 8 so obscure is partly the difﬁculty of determining what is going on: there is for instance very little attempt to explain rather than simply alluding to the various events which have led up to the speech, or to make clear who has been doing what. But there are difﬁculties also in the state of the text, which may in part be the result of copyists’ ﬁnding it hard to understand what the speech was supposed to be about.6 Above all, however, there is the question that has already been touched on: what is the speech for, and why has it been preserved in the manuscript tradition of Lysias? One of the common features of those forensic speeches which are generally agreed to be genuine works of Lysias is that they tend to present their narrative in ways that show an awareness of the needs of an audience to whom the facts of the dispute are unfamiliar.7 (Speeches which break this rule are on the whole those which are consciously incomplete: thus for instance Lys. 21 nowhere says what the speaker is charged with, but opens with the assertion that these charges have already been adequately refuted.) On one level, of course, this was the task of any authorship of Lys. 8 are usefully collected by Darkow (1917: 35–41), albeit mustered to support her eccentric theory that not only this but each of the forensic speeches in the corpus is a paignion written by Lysias himself but for a ﬁctitious dispute. 3 That is, not even credible as a rhetorical exercise, ‘notwithstanding the amplitude of fatuity conventionally supposed in “the late sophist” ’ (Jebb 1893 [1876].i: 301). 4 Brief introductions by e.g. Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 121–123), Lamb (1930: 168–169), Fernández-Galiano (1953: 161–164), Albini (1955: 356–357), Medda (1989–95.i: 246–247). 5 Freeman (1963 [1946]: 229–233, at p. 232) regards it as in some sense a genuine speech (on the grounds that the subject-matter is too speciﬁc for a rhetorical exercise, but without any discussion of delivery context), and possibly indeed as the work of Lysias (on the grounds that it is ‘in character’). 6 The fullest analysis of textual problems is by P. A. Müller (1926), who offers his own text with extensive apparatus at pp. 9–17 and a detailed exposition of his apparatus at pp. 18–51. It is, however, worth noting that the review by Goldschmidt (1929: 123) sees overall interpretation rather than textual criticism as Müller’s chief contribution, and that only four of Müller’s own conjectures are reported and none accepted in Carey’s OCT. 7 Note for instance the comparisons made in this volume between Lys. 3 and Lys. 4: although the latter lacks the formal narrative and extensive circumstantial detail of the former (for which see p. 275 above), nevertheless we are still told enough in the proof-section of the speech to permit us relatively easily to reconstruct the circumstances of the case (see p. 349 above).

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forensic orator, since although Athenian law did not seek to exclude those with prior knowledge from judging the case,8 nevertheless it is a working assumption that all but the most notorious of disputes would be new to many of those hearing an Athenian trial. But Lysias tends to explain for instance the function of individuals in the case, even where this information will have been contained in the indictment or in a witness’ testimony,9 from which it will therefore have been obvious to those judging the case: this habit may indeed indicate an awareness that a secondary reading public has needs that are additional to those of the original oral audience. Certainly it is notable that those forensic speeches in which the narrative is obscure tend to be the ones where authorship is most widely contested, such as Lys. 9 and Lys. 20 (and the same would be true of Lys. 6 if we did not have external evidence in the shape of Andokides’ own defence)— though there is of course a danger of circular argument here, since narrative clarity tends to be one of the criteria used consciously or otherwise by scholars to support claims of Lysianic authorship. Lys. 8, by contrast, is not in the strict sense a forensic speech: that is, although it deals with a dispute, there is no indication that it was prepared for a law-suit.10 It is formally a complaint directed against and probably addressed to the members of some species of group or association (on which see pp. 546–548 below) to which the speaker had previously belonged, and indicating his intention to renounce his membership on the grounds that they had been acting against his interests and speaking about him behind his back. It is by no means clear how far we are meant to envisage oral delivery—Blass (1887 [1868]: 644) objected to Reiske’s term ‘resignation letter’ on the grounds that ‘those present’ at §1 is appropriate for spoken performance, though this could be simply a literary ﬁction—but to the extent that the assumed audience comprises the speaker’s fellowmembers,11 there is therefore no need to explain the background to the dispute for their beneﬁt, as would have to be done for a dikastic jury. And certainly the

8

Contrast modern common-law systems, where this is one of the aims of the process of jury selection. Appeals by the Orators to the prior knowledge of the dikastai are discussed by Bonner & Smith (1930–38.ii: 125 with n. 1); Aristot. Rhet. 3.7.7 = 1408a34–36 reveals an awareness of how this topos could be manipulated. 9 For example, the explanation of Euphiletos’ relationship to the witness Sostratos at Lys. 1.22, and by implication Euphiletos’ own name at Lys. 1.16 and that of the opponent Nikomakhos at Lys. 7.20. (Contrast, in the case of a speech that is putatively not by Lysias, the confusion over the identities of Polyainos and Kallikrates at Lys. 9.5, noted at p. 585 below.) What I have described here as a tendency is, however, not an absolute rule: Dionysios at Lys. 10.22 and 10.24, and—if the text is secure—Theon at Lys. 10.12, are both introduced in very indirect terms. 10 Though Gleiniger (1875: 158) argues that that the hypothetical ur-text from which he believes our version to have been epitomised was not a prosecution but a defence speech, by which he appears to mean one written for a real trial. Whoever was responsible for the title in the Palatinus manuscript—for which see p. 546 n. 19 below—evidently thought it was a prosecution speech (kate¯goria), though this is oddly combined with the pronoun pros, which in the titles of forensic speeches tends to means ‘against’ in the sense ‘delivered by defendant against prosecutor’ (speeches delivered by prosecutors in penal cases against defendants normally use kata). 11 A heavily contested question: see §1n.

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speaker wholly fails to make the sort of efforts at explanation that might assist the putatively secondary audience for whom the written text is being disseminated.

II. WHO IS DOING WHAT? No names are mentioned until nearly half-way through the speech. The absence of names is exacerbated by the explicit refusal at §§8–9 to identify the anonymous informant who had provided the speaker with the information recounted at §§3–8.12 This refusal is justiﬁed by the claim that the primary audience already have guilty knowledge of the informant’s identity, since what he had allegedly passed on is information about defamatory statements which they themselves had made against the speaker: a somewhat laboured joke, which hardly takes account of the needs of any secondary audience. Names begin to appear at §10, when we are introduced abruptly to three people—Hegemakhos,13 Diodoros and Polykles—who have apparently played different rôles in arranging a pledge for a debt. Of these, Polykles reappears at §12 and Diodoros at §14, while in the meantime we have met Kleitodikos (sole appearance at §13, without any explanation of his function in the narrative), soon to be followed by four others—Thrasymakhos, Autokrates, Euryptolemos, and Menophilos14—who engage in a complex series of reported conversations at §§14–16. None of these individuals, incidentally, is otherwise known to us, though one of the names (as noted below) may be chronologically signiﬁcant. At no stage is it made explicit, for instance, which of these individuals are members of the association whose affairs form the subject of the dispute. On balance, I would tend to agree with P. A. Müller (1926: 58–60) that in the ﬁrst set of transactions Diodoros and Hegemakhos probably are members but that Polykles is not,15 and that Kleitodikos also is probably a member because his refusal to speak on the speaker’s behalf is described in terms which perhaps suggest that it would have been proper for him to do so (§13). However, whereas

12 An informant who (as it subsequently appears) was himself the unstated subject of the verb -λεγε ‘[he] said’ and (if Carey’s text is accepted) of περ πλεονο ποισατο (‘[he] considered it of more value’) at §4. 13 It should perhaps be noted that Hegemakhos is himself the product of a textual emendation (by Dobree), albeit one that is now universally accepted by editors. 14 On the signiﬁcance of Menophilos’ name for dating the speech, see pp. 551–552 below. 15 Diodoros is described as being present (∆ι*δωρο ο3το, §10), while the fact that Polykles the borrower has evidently had his loan negotiated by Hegemakhos (§10) suggests that the former is a non-member who has asked the latter to act as his patron in dealings with other group-members. (This would also make sense of the fact that the audience is criticised for not supporting the speaker’s interests against those of Polykles, §12.) Gleiniger (1875: 156) and Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 122) however think that Polykles is a member, while Albini (1955: 356) regards the evidence as inconclusive.

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Müller (1926: 59) suggests that Thrasymakhos is a former member, based presumably on the fact that we are told of his friendship speciﬁcally with the speaker (§16), it seems to me more likely that the allegations that both he (§14) and also Euryptolemos (§15) have been involved in spreading recent rumours are the sort of thing that would be said about current members, since it is in the speaker’s interests to emphasise levels of back-biting among rather than outside the group. Autokrates and Menophilos, by contrast, may well be members but are not necessarily so. To complicate matters still further, the speaker frequently resorts to using the pronouns autos (‘he’), houtos (‘this man’) and ekeinos (‘that man’) to denote those taking part in the action. Admittedly the use of these words in Greek is more common and generally clearer than can comfortably be captured by an English translation, since English tends most naturally to render them all as ‘he’. Nevertheless, together they are found a total of sixteen times as pronouns at §§9–15, with ekeinos in particular being used on nine occasions to refer apparently to a total of four different individuals.16

III. LOCATING THE SPEECH IN THE MANUSCRIPT TRADITION The question of why the speech has its place in the manuscript tradition of Lysias was raised by Blass (1887: 640), who suggested that it forms part of a thematic grouping based on the theme of slander, even though he noted that it was not about slander in any legal sense: Lys. 10 (together with its epitome, Lys. 11) is in fact the sole surviving case in the Orators of dike¯ kake¯gorias (private prosecution for slander); Lys. 9 is a claim for conﬁscation (apographe¯) to meet an unpaid ﬁne imposed for slandering public ofﬁcials; and as we have seen, the dispute in Lys. 8 is based on the claim that the speaker’s former associates have been saying bad things about him. So matters rested until 1966, and the publication of P.Oxy. 2537, containing hypotheses (brief summaries) of Lysianic speeches, including Lys. 10 + Lys. 11, Lys. 9, and Lys. 8 (in that order), grouped under the classiﬁcation kake¯gorias. One effect of this papyrus was obviously to conﬁrm Blass’ suggestion that these four speeches are grouped in our manuscripts around the theme of slander,

16 2 κε;νο is used: (a) ﬁve times at §9 apparently to denote the anonymous informant; (b) at §12 Ε evidently and at §13 probably to denote Polykles; (c) on its ﬁrst appearance at §15 evidently to denote Thrasymakhos; (d) on its second appearance at §15 evidently to denote Menophilos (but with no clear indication of the change in referent). Ο3το is used twice as a pronoun at §14, where the referent is extremely unclear. Ατ* as a pronoun is used ﬁve times: (a) twice in contexts where it may serve as a contrast to κε;νο (§9 and at §13), but if so, the referent in each case is unclear; (b) once at §14 (evidently Thrasymakhos); (c) twice at §15 (probably Thrasymakhos rather than Autokrates, and probably the same person both times).

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though this itself had much broader implications for our understanding of the formation of the corpus, which are discussed at p. 21 above. Its primary signiﬁcance for understanding Lys. 8, however, derives from the fact that the papyrus is dated palaeographically to the end of the second or start of the third century ad (Rea 1966: 23), which implies that Lys. 8 already formed part of the corpus at this period:17 since there are no other testimonia earlier than the date of the Palatinus manuscript (late twelfth or early thirteenth century), this is a signiﬁcant advance in the terminus ante quem.18 It is also notable that the titles of Lys. 8–11 broadly overlap with those in the manuscript tradition. The overlap however is not in this instance complete: whereas the manuscript title both at the start of Lys. 8 and in the table of contents is κατηγορα πρ τοZ συνουσιαστα` κακολογιν, only the central phrase πρ τοZ συνουσιαστα´ (‘against the sunousiastai’) is to be found in the papyrus title.19

IV. THE ASSOCIATION AND ITS ACTIVITIES The term sunousiastai is occasionally attested in sources of the early fourth century to denote a person’s ‘associates’ (e.g. Xen. Mem. 1.6.1, used of what might almost be termed a philosopher’s disciples), but it nowhere appears in the text of the speech itself, and may therefore be a copyist’s inference—albeit one which had gained authority by the end of the second century ad, since it appears as the title in P.Oxy. 2537 as well as in the Palatinus—from the use of the cognate noun sunousia at §16 and the cognate verbs xuneinai/suneinai on nine occasions throughout the speech.20 If so, it may be an inference which over-formalises the

17

Like Lys. 11 (for which see p. 640 below). Baiter & Sauppe (1839–50.i: 214) suggest tentatively that §6 apeipein could be the source of a lexicographers’ gloss (Cramer, Anecdota Oxoniensia, vol. 2, p. 490.5, identifying it as a Lysianic usage but without specifying a particular speech, and cf. Souda, A.3124 Adler), but this is rightly dismissed as over-speculative by P. A. Müller (1926: 69). For pre-1966 attributions of the speech to a ‘late sophist’, see Buermann with the criticisms by Jebb, cited at pp. 541–542 with n. 2 and n. 3 above. 19 There is enough blank space at the start of recto line 23 to prove that the word κατηγορα (‘prosecution speech’, for which cf. p. 543 n. 10 above) did not appear in the papyrus; κακολογιν (‘for defamation’) could just be squeezed into the lost space at the end of the line, but it is not a necessary restoration. The noun κακολογαι, like συνουσιαστα (below), does not appear in the speech, although the related verb κακολογ ω appears once at §5. In general, the language used in this speech to denote defamation focuses on the phrases κακ λ γω (twelve times) and κακ α2κο$ω (three times), with one instance of λοιδορ ω (on which see §5n): see for contrast p. 593 below and p. 632 below. 20 For the signiﬁcance of the xun- form (found in eight of the nine uses of the verb, the exception being at §7), see p. 551 below. The fact that the title uses the sun- form may suggest that it is an inference from the use of the noun sunousia at §16, rather than from the verb (in which case we might expect xunousiastai). On the unreliability of at least some ancient speech titles, see p. 386 n. 7 above. 18

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use of language, because sunousia at §16 appears to be being used as an abstract noun to denote the speaker’s ‘friendship’ with Thrasymakhos rather than as a collective noun to describe the ‘association’ of which they are putative members; and although xuneinai/suneinai is repeatedly used to denote the speaker’s relation to ‘you’, nevertheless the use even repeatedly of a verb does not constitute conclusive evidence that the members of the group referred to themselves as a sunousia. (It is perhaps worth noting that ‘you’ in this speech is always plural, denoting either the audience or the association,21 whereas allegations about individuals are always made in the third person.) Athenians appear to have used a wide variety of terms to refer to private associations, often with some sort of religious or cultic focus, but often existing also for mutual support which might be of beneﬁt either commercially (interestfree loans, etc.) or in legal matters (contribution to costs of litigation, willingness to testify, etc.).22 In this case a religious focus may possibly be inferred from the visit to Eleusis mentioned at §5 (on which see further below), but the speaker’s granting of a loan apparently to a non-member seems to have been negotiated by one of the fellow-members in his capacity as such, to the extent that the speaker can complain that the transactions were conducted ‘through yourselves’ (§10: i.e. the association perceived as a collective entity).23 The use of a horse as security for the loan has implications for the socio-economic status of those involved in the transaction, and possibly therefore for the other members of the association: since horses were not used in ancient farming, this must be either a cavalry horse or a racehorse, the ownership of which was a mark of signiﬁcant wealth.24 It was perhaps the impression created by Aristophanes’ Clouds of horse-racing as the preoccupation of a jeunesse dorée that led Buermann to describe this as a

21

For the overlap or distinction, see p. 543 above. For the use of terms like orgeo¯nes, thiaso¯tai, and eranistai, see Parker (1996a: 333–342), N. F. Jones (1999: 25), and most fully Arnaoutoglou (2003). It is notable that each of these terms is a plural noun referring to the members, rather than a collective noun denoting the group, which may support Parker’s observation that the terminology is generally informal and ﬂexible (Parker 1996a: 333, who regards orgeo¯nes as a possible exception to this ﬂexibility, but notes for instance that societies of thiaso¯tai were often ﬁnanced by eranos-loans). The collective nouns suno¯mosia and hetaireia appear to have had more distinctive—and subversive—political overtones, perhaps because of their association with the oligarchic revolution of 411 bc (xuno¯mosia at Thuc. 8.54.4 and hetaireia at Ath.Pol. 34.3): on this, see Calhoun (1913), though his starting-point perhaps leads him to over-generalise a political rôle for all such associations on the basis of Thucydides’ famous statement that the xuno¯mosiai in 411 had existed ‘for the purpose of dikai (law-suits) and arkhai (presumably elections)’. 23 For this reading of Hegemakhos and Polykles, see p. 544 n. 15 above. For ‘you’ (pl.), see text at n. 21 above. 24 See Davies (1971: pp. xxv–xxvi) for the keeping of race-horses as an indication of wealth; and Davies (1984: p. vi, correcting his earlier view reported from 1971: pp. xxvi–xxvii), for the conclusion that membership of the nominally 1,200 cavalry can similarly be used ‘as an objective index of wealth . . . closely comparable to membership of the trierarchic panel’. For the value of the horse in this speech, see §10n. 22

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social group made up speciﬁcally of young men.25 In conjunction with the mention of Eleusis (above), this assumption about the age of the members was developed by P. A. Müller (1926: 54–57) into an argument that what we have here is an informal group of friends linked through the ephe¯beia. This was the period of military service undergone by young Athenians as ‘ephebes’ in the two years after coming of age at 18: the system as it is described to us at Ath.Pol. 42.3–5, is evidently the product of a reform in the mid-330s bc, though there are hints that some elements of the system appear to be older than this;26 and there is post-Classical evidence for the ephebes having the task of accompanying ‘the sacred objects’ (hiera) in procession from Athens to Eleusis during the festival of the Mysteries.27 Müller’s view has won some support (e.g. Goldschmidt 1929: 123 and more tentatively Fernández-Galiano 1953: 162), but the argument is far from conclusive, not least because there is to my knowledge no clear evidence about the age of the participants: on the question of Eleusis, see further §5n.

V. DATE AND PURPOSE The dramatic setting of the speech is obscure. As we have seen, it is directed at a plurality of addressees, who are assumed to be present to hear the speaker’s complaints against them, but the precise relationship between audience and association is nowhere made explicit. So much for the context in which it was designed putatively to be performed: but what about the context in which it was composed? It was noted at the start of this Introduction that the majority of scholars (with the exceptions of Darkow and of Freeman) have regarded this speech at least in the form that we have it as a post-Classical product. The criteria that have been most often deployed for the purpose of dating are linguistic features such as prose-rhythm and vocabulary choice. The former include the fact (ﬁrst observed by Blass 1893 [1874]: 105–112) that Demosthenes in his mature speeches prefers to avoid strings of more than two successive short syllables: P. A. Müller (1926: 78–80) views this preference as a general characteristic of post-Demosthenic oratory, but notes that our speech seems to have taken no account of it,28 and so 25 Buermann (1876: 348), criticising the suggestion of Gleiniger (1875: 154) that it was a group of eranistai existing in his view for the purpose of mutual loans, etc. The word eranos nowhere appears in the speech, and the one loan which is mentioned appears (as we have seen) to have been made to a non-member. 26 Rhodes (1981: 494) suggests c.335/4 as the date of the reform, and notes that Aiskhines in 343 claims to have undertaken a comparable period of military service in his youth as peripolos or frontier-guard (Aiskhin. 2.167, using the same term as at Ath.Pol. 42.4). 27 IG ii2, 1078.18–22 (2nd cent. ad): since P. A. Müller (1926: 104) holds that the speech is a product of the 2nd or 1st cent. bc, he is not tied to any particular view about the pre-330s ephe¯beia. 28 He ﬁnds sixty-seven examples in the speech, and there are in fact two strings of as many as eight short syllables: §4 9 τι λ γετε κατ’ µο' (only the ﬁnal six syllables here are in Müller’s list) and §7 [πλουτο'ν]τα, µ& δ& πεν*µενον.

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cannot on this criterion be shown to be a post-Demosthenic product.29 More signiﬁcant, in Blass’ own study of Lys. 8, is a criterion previously put forward by Benseler (1841), who had noted that Isokrates was the ﬁrst of the Athenian orators systematically to avoid hiatus (that is, when a word beginning with a vowel follows another word ending with a vowel): Benseler himself recorded only ﬁve examples of hiatus in Lys. 8, of which in his view two could plausibly be removed by emendation, making this the one of the speeches which he was most certain was not by Lysias;30 Blass (1887 [1868]: 642) adds a couple more examples, but proposes further emendations;31 Müller, however, presents a much longer list, which even with full allowance for elision, synizesis and crasis still in his view leaves ten clear cases (P. A. Müller 1926: 72–78, with ﬁnal list at p. 77). Identiﬁcation of hiatus is, for reasons noted by Dover (1968: 68–69) and MacDowell (1990: 80), a more complex process than might ﬁrst appear.32 A full study would need to consider not only the tendency that has already been observed, whereby editors expecting to ﬁnd the avoidance of hiatus tend inevitably to take this into account when choosing to emend the text, but also questions of elision, of intervening punctuation or other sense-pause, and of the extent to which particular examples of hiatus are conditioned by natural wordorder or could easily have been avoided. This is not the place for such a systematic treatment—not least because a TLG proximity wild-card search ([αειουηω] followed by space between letters followed by [αειουηω]), designed to identify potential cases of elision for further examination, indicated that over 8,400 examples in the corpus of Lysias alone (excluding the fragments) would need to be considered—but comparison between the results of a similar search applied both to Lysias and to Isokrates suggests that we should hesitate before drawing ﬁrm conclusions. A search of this type, of course, reveals only ‘raw’ cases of hiatus, taking no account of punctuation nor of editorial decisions over elision, and the results are therefore subject to all sorts of qualiﬁcations. Nevertheless, it is striking that whereas no speech of Isokrates barring his early forensic works ever exceeds 0.74 examples per hundred words, Lys. 8 has 4.27 per hundred. This is certainly the lowest among the speeches in the Lysianic corpus, but it is not 29 One other peculiarity of rhythm is the sequence of twelve iambic feet at §1 (βουλ*µην πα´λαι· πα´ρεισι µ&ν γα`ρ οQ πεγκαλ, πα´ρεισι δ& xν ναντον), mentioned in passing by Gleiniger (1875: 174), which could in principle make a pair of iambic trimeters, albeit without caesura in either case. Lines of what could be verse are, however, not without parallel even in Lysias’ most famous speeches: see 1.16n, and cf. also Lys. 12.100 πα$σοµαι κατηγορν, which would scan as the second half of an iambic trimeter after a third-foot caesura. For Dion.Hal.’s claim that Lysias’ style is free from metre, see p. 33 n. 124 above. 30 Benseler (1841: 175–185): examples at p. 176, emendations and general assessment at pp. 183–184. 31 Blass (1887: 643) views the absence of hiatus as the strongest evidence against Gleiniger’s epitome theory (for which see p. 541 n. 1 above), whereas the latter claims that hiatus could simply have been systematically removed by the putative epitomiser (Gleiniger 1875: 173). 32 For a detailed analysis of speciﬁc passages in several of the speeches (esp. Lys. 1 and Lys. 24), see Pearson (1978: 134–136), who sees hiatus primarily as a means whereby the speaker can vary the pacing of his delivery for special effect.

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grossly out of line with the 5.39 per hundred of Lys. 24 (the authorship of which has sometimes been doubted, but which shows no signiﬁcant divergence in any of the ﬁve statistical tests applied by Usher & Najock 1982: 103).33 If there is systematic avoidance of hiatus in this speech—and in my view it would be a marginal judgment—that would of course suggest that the writer was inﬂuenced directly or otherwise by Isokrates,34 but it would not demonstrate how much later our speech was written: it is perhaps worth noting that Isokrates’ career overlaps with that of Lysias, and that later orators do not seem to have been as systematic as Isokrates in this matter.35 A second set of criteria for determining authorship and date concerns the use of vocabulary and of rhetorical ﬁgures.36 Such arguments can sometimes lapse into overstatement or circularity, as in Buermann’s claim that skaios (used at §5 to mean ‘stupid’ or ‘incompetent’) is not a Lysianic word; he promptly used the presence of the same word at 10.15 to prove that that speech also was spurious (Buermann 1876: 370). Others are matters of taste and as such open to individual judgment, such as the objection of Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 301) to the metaphor in apothetos philos at §17.37 But there is some force in Müller’s point that unexplained38 hapaxes (words which are found nowhere else either in Lysias or sometimes in other orators) are more common in this speech than is normal—he estimates that there are the equivalent of 135 examples per 100 §§ of text in Lys. 8, compared with 70 per 100 §§ in Lys. 6 and 42 per 100 §§ in Lys. 31 (P. A. Müller 1926: 92 n. 3)—and some of the examples discussed by him are individually quite suggestive: he notes for instance the use of enantion with the genitive at §2 to mean ‘contrary to (expectation)’, and points out that this usage tends to be characteristic of later authors, whereas Lysias uses the word in its earlier sense of 33 Some reservations about Usher & Najock’s methods and ﬁndings are discussed at pp. 29–30 above. 34 For the use of this argument by Blass against Lysianic authorship and against Gleiniger’s epitome theory, see n. 31 above. 35 Whereas patterns of hiatus in the corpus of Demosthenes differ signiﬁcantly between those generally regarded as genuinely Demosthenic (typically in the range 3.5–7.5 per hundred words on the same ‘raw’ test) and those which belong e.g. to the Apollodoran corpus (e.g. Dem. 59 and Dem. 53 at 17.19 and 22.10 per hundred respectively)—see in detail on this question Trevett (1992: 68–70)—this does not seem to apply to the speeches of Lysias, where although some of the speeches whose authorship is generally contested show relatively low readings (e.g. Lys. 9, with 8.64 per hundred), nevertheless there is wide variation among those of the speeches of Lysias of which the authorship is now universally accepted (7.88 per hundred in Lys. 33 [albeit a short extract with potential for distortion], 9.30 in Lys. 16, but 16.59 in Lys. 1, and 20.71 in Lys. 13). The fact that Second Sophistic orators like Aelius Aristeides and Libanios show variations between speeches on the same ‘raw’ test from 3.50 per hundred words (Aristeides, 10) to 14.06 (Aristeides, 47), and from 3.08 (Liban., sp. 13) to 10.21 (Liban., sp. 1) suggests that it is the level of consistency found in Isokrates (at least in the Budé edition, which is the one used in the TLG), and to some extent in Demosthenes, which is exceptional here, rather than that all subsequent orators followed him. 36 Usher (1999: 115) notes an unusually large quantity of parison, antithesis, and rhetorical devices. 37 A friend who is lit. ‘stored up’ or ‘hidden away’, i.e. a special friend; cf. also later in the same sentence the metaphor in parakatathe¯ke¯ (that which is deposited for safe-keeping). 38 For the signiﬁcance in this context of ‘unexplained’, see p. 626 with n. 7 below.

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‘in front of’ (P. A. Müller 1926: 20–21, citing 13.32). It is against this background that one of the most striking linguistic uses in the speech is probably to be interpreted: the use—albeit not quite consistently in our manuscripts—of xun- rather than sun- as a compounding preposition. Among prose writers, this is a usage generally conﬁned to authors of the late ﬁfth century, most notably Thucydides, and it appears nowhere else in surviving speeches that are generally agreed to be by Lysias; a similar picture is found in epigraphic texts, where the transition to sun- takes place during the ﬁnal quarter of the ﬁfth century, with only three instances of xun-forms datable in or slightly later than 400 bc (Threatte, 1980–96.i: 553–554).39 Taken on its own, this could point to a preLysianic composition date, but given the rest of the evidence, Goldschmidt (1929: 123) suggests hyperatticisation—i.e. over-enthusiastic imitation of what was thought to be Classical usage—which in his view tends to suggest a date in the second or ﬁrst century bc: while I am not sure we can be that precise about habits of artiﬁcial linguistic usage, I would agree that it is unlikely to be found in a speech produced before the end of the fourth century. Perhaps the most conclusive single criterion for dating, however, concerns the use of names. As has already been noted (at pp. 544–545 above), none of the eight individuals mentioned in §§10–16 are clearly introduced to us, and none of them are otherwise known. But whereas six of the names are attested at Athens reasonably often and in each case from the ﬁfth century onwards,40 this does not apply in the other two cases. Of the exceptions, Kleitodikos is probably not signiﬁcant: the name admittedly does not appear in LGPN Attica, but there are at least a dozen compound names beginning ‘Kleito-’ and vast numbers ending ‘-dikos’.41 Menophilos, however, is another matter: ‘Me¯n-’ is a western Phrygian god, whose name becomes extremely common in compounds of this type at Athens (cf. also Menodotos and Menodoros, alongside seventy-one individuals named Menophilos in LGPN Attica), but no such compound is otherwise attested before the third century bc. 39

Forms in xun-/xum-/xug-/xul- are found eleven times in this speech (ξυνε;ναι at §5, §6 twice; ξυν=ν at §18 twice; ξυν at §19, ξ$νεστε at §18, ξυν*ντων at 8.19; ξυµβανει at §9, §12; ξυνθεωρε;ν at §5), but not consistently: in addition to συνουσιαστα´ in the title (which could be scribal), there are also three examples in the body of the speech (συν*ντι at §7; συν πραττον at §11; συνουσα at §16). Elsewhere in our manuscripts, ξυγγ νηται is found once at Lys. 6.6 (though this sort of one-off example could again be scribal, since there are ﬁfteen uses in that speech in sun-/sum-/sug-/sul-, and Carey amends accordingly); ξυνκετην and ξυνεκοιµντο are found in Lys. frag. 8 (both quoted in Athenaios and possibly attributable to him). In other orators, xun- forms appear ﬁve times in Aiskhines and once in Demosthenes (in each case quoting or discussing tragic verse, and in one case needed for scansion), and ﬁve times in Ant. 5—the latter, of course, being a contemporary of Thucydides. 40 The number of individuals listed in LGPN Attica under each of these names is as follows: 20 × Autokrates; 209 × Diodoros; 8 × Euryptolemos; 16 × Hegemakhos; 58 × Polykles; 13 × Thrasymakhos. 41 Buermann (1876: 360 and 374) sought to interpret the names in the speech as etymological constructs linked in most cases to ideas of power and quarrel and strife (Autokrates, Euryptolemos, Hegemakhos, Thrasymakhos); he saw Kleitodikos as a support in litigation for the speaker, and Menophilos as an informer (he interpreted this name, most implausibly, as being derived from me¯nuo¯).

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The chronological limits for the speech would therefore seem to be no earlier than the third century bc (for the name Menophilos, and for the hyperatticising) and no later than the second century ad (for inclusion in P.Oxy. 2537): the latter in particular is almost certainly an excessively conservative estimate, since the classiﬁcatory overlap between papyrus and manuscript tradition presumably reﬂects the incorporation of the speech during a prior process of canonisation. What is less clear is whether the hyperatticisation reﬂects a deliberate if clumsy attempt at pastiche or at forgery (i.e. a speech written in the hope that it could pass for being a product of one of the early Orators), in which case its historical value would be as evidence for how this period was subsequently perceived; or whether it is a speech written about contemporary matters but in an archaising style, perhaps as a product of the Atticist/Asianist controversy to which Cicero alludes in the ﬁrst century bc, or possibly even of the Second Sophistic.42 If the latter, then there would seem to be some force in the argument of Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 123), that the details of the speech are not the sort of thing that would be invented even as caricature, and that it is therefore less difﬁcult to see it as arising out of a real dispute, and as providing evidence for the workings of such associations at the time of writing.43 42 43

It is perhaps worth noting that Lucian uses the xun- form on at least some occasions. The absence of names from the ﬁrst half of the speech could be signiﬁcant here, cf. §3n.

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Hypothesis (reprinted from Frag. 308 col. i Carey)

25

πρὸ[ς τοὺς σ]υνουσιασ[τάς· 7]π τν. συνουσι[αστ] . ν δ[ια]βλ[ηθε κα . . . . .] α2κο$ω ν ατο

[ . .] . . . . [c.16 litt. . . . .] µD [θ] λουσιν [πλησ]ι.α´σα[ι c.16 litt. . .] διαµ.αρτυρε; µη.[δ&]ν ατ.[οZ? c.12 litt. κα]κ ποι8σαι α[. . .] κα το; α.[c.14 litt. δ$ναµιν· 24–5 de κακ- cogitare vetat linearum divisio (ed. pr.): οχ Gδ -ω Handley 25 ατο .[ vel (minus prob.) ατ ν.[ ut vid. 26 dubitanter supplevi: ]ασ non ]ι.ασ ed. pr. et Handley 27ss. e.g. διαµαρτυρε; µη.[δ&]ν ατ.[οZ κακ επε;ν e] [κακ] ποι8σαι α2[λλα`] κα το; α%[λλοι βοηθε;ν κατα`] δ$[ν]αµιν ed. pr. coll. 8.3

8 Accusation of Defamatory Speech against the Sunousiastai Hypothesis to Lys. 8 (P.Oxy. 2537 = frag. 308 Carey, recto lines 23–29) [line 23] Against the sunousiastai: [24] On being defamed by the members of the association and [25] being called [something negative], . . . [26] them being unwilling to approach . . . [27] he testiﬁes that he has in no way [said anything bad or] [28] done anything bad towards them, but that he is indeed [assisting the others on the basis of] [29] his ability.

The Speech [1] I appear to have taken a suitable opportunity for things which I have long wanted to discuss. There are present the people against whom I am making a complaint, and there are present the people before whom I am keen to censure those who are wronging me. And yet there is far more eagerness towards those who are present. I believe that the one group will consider it insigniﬁcant if they are seen to be unfriendly to their friends— for they would not otherwise be seeking from the outset to wrong me— [2] but I wish it would be seen by the other group that I am doing these men no wrong, but am myself being wronged by them ﬁrst. It is unpleasant to be forced to speak about them, but it is impossible not to speak, when I suffer ill-treatment against expectations, and ﬁnd that those who seem to be friends are wronging me.

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[3] In the ﬁrst place, so that none of you can possibly assist in the wrongs he has committed and provide a justiﬁcation for his offence, let him therefore say which of you has suffered slander or damage at my hands, or which of you has asked from me and has not received things which I was able to give and which he had requested. Why therefore are you trying to damage me both in speech and in action, and to slander us in this respect in front of people whom you were slandering to us? . . . [4] And yet you are causing so much trouble that he considered it of more value to be seen to care for me more, and to recount it to me. As to what he said, I would not tell everything, because I was upset to hear it; nor, while reproaching you, would I say the same things as the thing which you said against me: for I would be releasing you from my complaint if I said to you the same things concerning myself. [5] But I will describe the hubris which you thought you were committing against me, and how you made yourselves a laughing-stock. For you claimed that it was by force that I was associating myself with you and engaging in discussion, and that although you did everything possible, you had no way of getting rid of me, and ﬁnally that I was accompanying you to the festival at Eleusis against your will. You thought that by saying this you were slandering me, but you reveal yourselves as total incompetents, who on the one hand were at the same time both secretly insulting the same man and publicly regarding him as a friend. [6] You should either not have slandered me, or else not have associated with me—and to have done the latter by publicly

558

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559

renouncing my company. If you thought that was shameful, how was it shameful for you to continue associating with a man whose company you did not think it proper to renounce? [7] I have not myself found out any reason why you could reasonably have despised my company. I was not aware that you were particularly wise and that I was particularly stupid, nor that you had plenty of friends and I was without friends, nor again that you were wealthy and I was poor, nor again that you had a particularly good reputation and I was an object of slander, nor that my affairs were at risk and yours were secure. On what basis therefore could I reasonably have suspected that you were upset with my company? [8] When you made these statements to the latest, you did not think to give this news to us. Thinking that it was a brilliant stroke of cleverness, you all went round accusing yourselves of willingly accompanying those who were rascals. As far as the speaker is concerned, you would not succeed in discovering anything. In the ﬁrst place, it is from a position of knowledge that you will be asking about the person who spoke to me: how could you not know the person to whom you made the statement? [9] Second, I would be behaving disgracefully if I did the same to him as that man did to you. That man did not pass on the information to us on the same basis that you stated it to that man. That man passed it on to my relatives as a favour to myself, whereas you

560

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stated it to that man because you wished to harm me. If I disbelieved this, I would seek to test it. As it is—because these things too agree with the earlier ones, and these are for me a proof of those things, [10] and those things a sufﬁcient proof of these things. In the ﬁrst place, it was through yourselves that I conducted all my dealings with Hegemakhos about the pledging of the horse. When the horse fell sick, Diodoros here tried to discourage me from wanting to return it, saying that Polykles would not argue about the twelve minas, but would repay it. That was what he said at the time, but after the death of the horse he eventually set himself up alongside these men as an opposing litigant, saying that it would not be fair for me to recover the money. [11] And yet they were accusing themselves. If it was in no way legitimate for me, as the one being wronged, to speak about things which I had done with them, then I suppose they were acting together properly. I believed that they were putting forward the opposite argument because they were quibbling about the case. [12] However, they were not arguing against but acting against me; and they were acting against me for the following reason, so that Polykles would know about my case. For this was made clear. Polykles lost his temper while the arbitrators were present, and said that I was thought to be doing wrong even by my friends, as they were telling him. Does this agree with the information that was passed on? The same person passed on the information that you claimed you were discouraging those intending to speak on my behalf, and had already prevented some. What need is there for me to prove the case more clearly? [13] Come now: could

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that man have known that I had asked Kleitodikos to speak in support but had not succeeded in getting him? For he was not present at their meeting. What proﬁt was there for him in slandering me in front of you so enthusiastically that he was busy in inventing this for the consumption of my relatives? [14] I know that already, for a long time, you have been seeking a pretext, ever since you said that it was on my account that Thrasymakhos was slandering you. I asked him if it was on my account that he was slandering Diodoros, and he was extremely disparaging about the phrase ‘on my account’. He said that it was totally untrue that he had slandered Diodoros on anybody’s account. While I was pursuing this matter, Thrasymakhos was eager to be examined about the things which this man was saying. But this man preferred to arrange everything differently. [15] After this, Autokrates told Thrasymakhos in my presence that Euryptolemos was criticising him and was saying that he was being slandered by him: his informant had been Menophilos. That man went with me to Menophilos immediately; and that man stated that he had never heard it and had not passed on information to Euryptolemos—and not just that, but that they had not even held a conversation for a long time. [16] It is clear that you have been putting forward pretexts like this, based in the past on the association between Thrasymakhos and myself; but now, when pretexts have deserted you, you still carry on slandering me more freely on no basis at all. I should have recognised then that I was bound to suffer this fate, when you were making slanderous statements about each other even to me. Subsequently, too, I have told you my entire case about Polykles as well, whom you are now

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assisting. [17] Why on earth did I not guard myself against this outcome? I was too naïve. I believed that I was a special friend of yours, exempt from being slandered precisely because you were slandering the others in front of me; and that I held your criminal remarks about each other as a safe-deposit from each one of you. [18] I therefore willingly withdraw from friendship with you—because, by the gods, I do not know what penalty I shall suffer if I cease to associate with you, and I have not derived any beneﬁt from so associating. Is it the case that when I am faced with some legal business, I shall then feel the lack of somebody to speak for me and people to testify? But at the moment, instead of speaking on my behalf, you are seeking to prevent the one who is speaking, and instead of assisting me and testifying justly, you are associating with my opposing litigants and testifying for them. [19] Or is it that you will say very good things about me, on the grounds that you are well-disposed? But at the moment, you are the only people who are slandering me. On my part, at least, there will be no obstacle in your way. For this is the sort of thing you will experience in your relations with each other, since it is your custom in word and in deed constantly to harm one of the members of your association: as soon as I am no longer your associate, you will turn against each other; you will then become hateful to each other one by one; and ﬁnally the only one who is left will resort to slandering himself. [20] I will have at least this advantage, that by having ﬁrst got rid of you, I will suffer the least damage at your hands. For both in word and in deed you damage those who have to deal with you, but of those who have no dealings you have never damaged a single person.

Lysias 8. Against the Sunousiastai: Commentary P.Oxy. 2537 Hypothesis The papyrus, together with its rendering of the title of the speech, is discussed at pp. 545–546 above. For illustrative purposes I have included in my translation the restorations noted in Carey’s apparatus (frag. 308), using square brackets as an attempt loosely to indicate the scale of these and other conjectures. Rea (1966: 30) suggests that line 26 µD [θ] λουσιν [πλησ]ι.α´σα[ι] (‘them [dative] being unwilling to approach’)1 may refer to §5 of the speech: βS γα`ρ 7µ;ν φα´σκετ µε ξυνε;ναι (‘you claimed that it was by force that I was associating myself with you’). This is plausible, though the idiom and choice of words is dissimilar. He suggests also that his tentative restoration of lines 27–29 διαµ.αρτυρε; µη . [δ&]ν ατ.[οZ κακ επε;ν e | κα]κ ποι8σαι α2[λλα`] κα το; α.%[λλοι βοηθε;ν κατα`] | δ$ναµιν (‘he testiﬁes that he has in no way <said anything bad or> done anything bad towards them, but that he is indeed his ability’) might refer to §3: τ 7µν 7π’ µο' κακ α2κκοεν e π πονθεν, e τ µο' δεηθε οκ -τυχεν xν γ= τε δυνατ :ν κα2κε;νο πγγειλε (‘which of you has suffered slander or damage at my hands, or which of you has asked from me and has not received things which I was able to give and which he had requested’). Here the restoration is perhaps less convincing, not least because there is no clear mention of ‘others’ at §3.2 If the identiﬁcation is accepted, however, it suggests that only the ﬁrst part of the speech attracted the attention of the author of the hypothesis, and Rea certainly seems correct in saying that there is ‘no attempt to explain the very tangled transactions which made the speaker resign from his club’. Line 23: [σ]υνουσιασ[τάς] (i.e. ‘members of an association’). The term sunousiastai does not appear in the speech itself but is found as the title in the Palatinus manuscript: for the extent of overlap between manuscript and papyrus title, see p. 546 with n. 19 above.

1 The use of µ rather than ο would most naturally suggest that the participle has conditional force, but there could be other explanations. 2 It is in addition difﬁcult to see why βοηθε;ν should be in the present tense when ποι8σαι has been aorist, barring the fact that βοηθ8σαι would require an additional letter and the restoration is already 16 letters rather than the expected c.14.

8. Against the Sunousiastai: Commentary §§1–2

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Line 27: διαµ.αρτυρεῖ (‘he testiﬁes’). An odd word for the author of the hypothesis to choose, since diamarturia in the Orators is used to describe the formal presentation of a witness whose evidence serves to compel a public ofﬁcial either to act or normally to desist from acting in a particular way (e.g. preventing an inheritance dispute from being brought to court by certifying the existence of a legitimate son, since the latter was entitled to inherit his dead father’s estate automatically). Witness testimony is mentioned three times in the speech (all at §18), but in each case with the normal verb martureo¯.

§§1–2: Proem §1. πάρεισι (‘there are present’). The choice of verb would at ﬁrst sight seem to suggest that this is a text designed primarily for oral rather than written delivery, though this could be a literary ﬁction (as noted at p. 543 above). The repetition of the verb to denote two groups of hearer raises questions also about the make-up of the assumed audience, which certainly includes fellow-members of the association, though it is less clear whether others are present also. Controversy has focused on the identity of the two groups speciﬁed here, which assert the presence both of ‘the people against whom I am making a complaint’ (clearly some or all of the members) and of a neutral group, ‘the people before whom I am keen to censure those who are wronging me’. Those scholars who believe that his complaint is directed against the totality of the association, and that he is therefore speaking to a mixed audience, have drawn attention to the conﬂation of ‘you’ (pl.) with the group as a whole at §§18–20 (thus e.g. Buermann 1876: 350), and have inferred that the non-members have been called in as impartial witnesses (Blass 1887 [1868]: 640). Those who believe that this is the type of society which would have been unwilling to let its affairs be scrutinised by outsiders (as Gleiniger 1875: 154–156) have responded by claiming that the dispute is only with some of the members, and that Polykles need not have been referring to the totality of the membership when he allegedly claimed that the speaker’s ‘friends’ (epite¯deioi, §12) thought he was in the wrong. (See further §3n.) οἷς ἐπεγκαλῶ (‘the people against whom I am making a complaint’). Whereas the verb enkaleo¯ and its cognate noun enkle¯ma are frequently found in the Orators to denote the bringing of a prosecution (properly speaking a private prosecution, as at Lys. 3.26, though some exceptions are noted by Lipsius 1905–15: 817 n. 48), the additional compound epenkaleo¯ is found nowhere else in the Orators, and seems to be characteristic of post-Classical texts (P. A. Müller 1926: 18). ὧν ἐναντίον ἐπιθυµῶ µέµψασθαι (‘before whom I am keen to censure’). See last-but-one note. σπουδὴ πρὸς τοὺς παρόντας (‘eagerness towards those who are present’). The manuscript reading in the last two words has been challenged by several editors: Carey’s OCT apparatus reports Francken’s το$του (‘these men’) and Thalheim’s τοZ α2κροατα´ (‘the hearers’). If accepted, the point of the remark is presumably a

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reference to the greater zeal, determination or possibly esteem displayed by himself towards an audience who are present in comparison with that which would be shown in other circumstances. τοὺς µέν (‘the one group’), i.e. presumably those he is complaining against (see last note but three). §2. τοῖς δέ (‘the other group’), i.e. presumably those in front of whom he is making his complaint (see last note but four). ἀναγκάζεσθαι λέγειν περὶ τούτων (‘to be forced to speak about them’), i.e. those (= ‘these men’ in the previous sentence) who have wronged him—or possibly, reading it as a neuter, ‘about these things’ (i.e. their behaviour towards him).

§§3–9: Information Received from Anonymous Informant §3. οἷς ἐξηµάρτηκε (‘the wrongs he has committed’). The absence of names in the ﬁrst half of the speech is discussed at p. 544 above. If we assume that names are less likely to be needed by a real audience, this could be an additional reason (cf. p. 552 n. 43 above) for believing that the speech was written for a real occasion; but it could simply reﬂect a lack of narrative clarity. The unexplained third person here would seem to denote a member of the association who has in some way acted or spoken against the interests of the speaker. πρόϕασιν πορίσηται τῆς ἁµαρτίας (‘provide a justiﬁcation for his offence’). The nouns hamarte¯ma and hamartia are virtually synonymous, but Lysias tends to use the former (34 appearances in the corpus), though the latter is found at 31.27. εἰπάτω . . . τίς ὑµῶν ὑπ’ ἐµοῦ κακῶς ἀκήκοεν ἢ πέπονθεν (‘let him say which of you has suffered slander or damage at my hands’), lit. ‘has heard (i.e. been spoken about) or has suffered badly’: ‘him’ is presumably the speaker’s enemy from the last note but one. The rôle of personal enmity in the forensic speeches as a motive for litigation is discussed at 1.44n: here its denial serves both to elicit pathos and to cast opprobrium, by emphasising that the speaker has suffered wrong from people who were supposed to be his friends. ὧν ἐγώ τε δυνατὸς ἦν (‘things which I was able to give’), lit. ‘those things over which I was powerful’. κἀκεῖνος ἐπήγγειλε (‘and which he had requested’). For the use of ekeinos (lit. ‘that man’) later in the speech to denote four different individuals, see p. 545 n. 18 above: here the reference is most probably to the hypothetical ‘which of you’, though it could possibly signify a request made by the speaker’s enemy on their behalf. The active3 verb epangello¯ tends in the Orators to be found in contexts of formal notice which imposes a requirement on a third party, e.g. that the 3 The middle, by contrast, is used normally of what one promises or undertakes or professes to be delivering, e.g. at 12.70, though Harpokration s.v. epangelia cites Dem. 19.193 and Antiphon frag. Tribute of Lindos for its being used like the active of a person making a request.

8. Against the Sunousiastai: Commentary §§3–4

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latter must observe the sacred truce of Mysteries (Aiskhin. 2.133–134), collect bodies for burial (law ap. Dem. 43.57–58), provide for the care of an injured nurse (Dem. 47.67), collect money owing in judgment-debt (Dem. 47.66), or attend a court hearing bringing a document (Dem. 48.51); above all, it is used to denote formal notice that the third party must defend himself against the dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n or scrutiny of orators, for which see 10.1n. We may therefore be meant to envisage a formal rather than a casual request. τί δῆτά µε κακῶς τὰ µὲν λέγειν τὰ δὲ ποιεῖν ἐπιχειρεῖτε (‘why then are you trying to damage me both in speech and in action’), lit. ‘to speak some things and do other things badly (i.e. in a hostile fashion)’. Throughout this speech, as has been noted at p. 547 above, ‘you’ is second person plural: the reference here is to the association or the audience, rather than to the speaker’s enemy. καὶ ταῦτα πρὸς τούτους ἡµᾶς διαβάλλειν, οὓς πρὸς ἡµᾶς αὐτοὺς διεβάλλετε (‘and to slander us in this respect in front of people whom you were slandering to us?’). It is a particular characteristic of the ﬁrst person in Greek that plural is often used for singular, and since there is no other indication that the speaker is part of a group of people in the same position, that is the most likely explanation here. How the speaker’s second-person addressees are supposed to be slandering him in front of ‘these people’ is not made clear, but perhaps reads less unnaturally if it means hostile elements within the association in front of the rest of the members, rather than the association in front of a broader audience, since there is no other indication that non-members are being defamed: see further §1n. §4. καίτοι οὕτως ἐνοχλεῖτε, ὥστε περὶ πλείονος ἐποιήσατο δοκεῖν ἐµοῦ κήδεσθαι µᾶλλον καὶ ἐµοὶ κατειπεῖν (‘and yet you are causing so much trouble that he considered it of more value to be seen [lit. “to appear”] to care for me more, and to recount it to me’). A very difﬁcult passage textually (see Carey’s apparatus for a fuller range of problems than are discussed here, and in more detail P. A. Müller 1926: 24–27). The main controversy surrounds the subjects of the two ﬁnite verbs, which in the manuscript are both third person singular. Some editors4 have emended both of these into second person plurals, on the grounds that the context rules out a reference to the anonymous enemy of §3, but that the unmarked introduction of another third person singular would be extremely abrupt. Since the following sentence contains another third person singular, however, this is hardly an adequate remedy without more extensive emendation. On balance, therefore, it seems most likely that we have here the ﬁrst though highly cryptic reference to the anonymous informant whose identity the speaker refuses to reveal at §8 (see p. 544 with n. 12 above). Since it is not obvious why this individual’s causing trouble would lead him to change his own stance, Carey prefers to accept the second person plural emendation of the ﬁrst ﬁnite verb, though this still leaves a very sudden transition, to the extent that Thalheim for instance inserted the indeﬁnite pronoun tis after epoie¯sato (‘that somebody 4

For example, Hude (1912), which was used as the basis of Todd (2000a).

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considered it’). It is of course possible that the suggested lacuna at the end of §3 might have made the logical sequence clearer, but this is something of a counsel of despair. α δ’ ἔλεγε (‘as to what he said’). For the third person singular, see previous note. ὑµῖν ἐπικαλῶν (‘while reproaching you’). The active verb epikaleo¯ in the Orators can denote formal accusation (as in Ant. Tetral. 2.1.2 and 3.2.7), but it can indicate simply informal reproach (e.g. Lys. 19.60 and 27.4): the two concepts are the subject of an interesting contrast at Dem. 52.17, where epikaleo¯ denotes the complaint that is the subject of the case, and dikazomai is used to signify the formal act of prosecution.5 §5. α δὲ ὑβρίζειν οἰόµενοι ἐµέ (‘the hubris which you thought you were committing against me’). For hubris in forensic contexts, see 1.2n and 3.5n. βίᾳ γὰρ ὑµῖν ἐϕάσκετέ µε ξυνεῖναι (‘for you claimed that it was by force that I was associating myself with you’). Presumably in the metaphorical sense that he had (as we might say) forced his company upon them. For the use of xun- forms here and throughout the speech, see p. 551 above. τὸ τελευταῖον (‘ﬁnally’). The force of the adverbial phrase could be either temporal or logical (or both), depending on whether we read it as his most recent or his most embarrassing alleged faux pas. Ἐλευσῖνάδε ξυνθεωρεῖν (‘that I was accompanying you to the festival at Eleusis’). The verb theo¯reo¯ together with its cognates can denote simple ‘observation’ or ‘contemplation’, but tends to be used of those attending religious events. This can often have ofﬁcial status, since it was common to send theo¯roi to festivals or oracles as a form of sacred embassy representing the polis,6 but we would expect an ofﬁcial delegation of this type to be sent only to festivals abroad. There are, however, passages in which theo¯reo¯ and cognates are used of private individuals attending religious events in Attica.7 In a religious context, the mention of Eleusis would immediately suggest the Eleusinian Mysteries (for which see p. 400 above): the nearest parallel for the use of theo¯reo¯ or cognates referring to this festival 5 Similarly the passive (though as a present participle it can also mean ‘nicknamed’, as at Isai. 8.3 and Aiskhin. 3.181), whereas the middle tends to mean ‘to call for help’ (a particular favourite of Lykourgos, as at Lyk. 1.17, 1.42, 1.143). 6 See e.g. Dem. 19.128 (Athens’ refusal to send either theo¯roi or thesmothetai to the Pythian festival of 346 presided over by Philip); SEG 21 [1965], 562.14 (record of dedication by Athenian theo¯roi to shrine of Ammon in desert, c.360); and SEG 28 [1978], 60.56–64 (inscription of 270/69 honouring Kallias of Sphettos, inter alia as arkhitheo¯ros of the Athenian theo¯ria at the ﬁrst celebration of the Ptolemaia at Alexandria), with discussion of the duties of theo¯roi in T. L. Shear (1978: 34–35). 7 Dem. 18.265 speaks of Demosthenes’ presence among the audience watching Aiskhines perform in the theatre (presumably that of Dionysos in Athens). At Aristoph. Peace, 871–874, Trygaios’ slave claims on a previous occasion to have had some presumably sexual involvement (the text is corrupt) with the character Theo¯ria: he adds that this was ‘towards Brauron’ (Βραυρωνα´δ2 ), and editors have generally taken it as a reference to a festival procession at the Brauronia.

8. Against the Sunousiastai: Commentary §§5–8

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is at 6.5n, which in context probably denotes individual spectators, and we know of processions certainly involving those to be initiated and quite possibly including former initiates also.8 On this basis, the most likely interpretation of the present passage would seem to be an informal agreement among friends to attend a festival together, of the sort attested elsewhere (e.g. Isok. 19.10 and Isai. 8.15–16, both using theo¯reo¯ or cognates, and both using this as evidence of close personal links); we do in addition have one passage describing initiation presumably at the Mysteries as something that normally accompanies mutual hospitality among friends.9 οἵτινες µέν . . . λάθρα µὲν ἐλοιδορεῖτε (‘who on the one hand were . . . both secretly insulting . . .’).10 For the relative rarity of loidoreo¯ in this speech, see p. 593 below: given that it tends elsewhere to denote insults delivered in a public context, there may be an element of paradox here in the conjunction with lathra (things done in secret, i.e. behind the speaker’s back). §6. χρῆν γὰρ ὑµᾶς ἢ µὴ κακῶς λέγειν (‘you should either not have slandered <me>’). The Greek text of this sentence does not specify that it is the speaker who is the object of slander, association, and renunciation of company, but this seems clear from the context. εἰ δὲ αἰσχρὸν ἡγεῖσθε τοῦτο (‘if you thought that was shameful’). Renunciation, or continued association? Either way, it is hard to see the force of the remainder of the sentence. §7. οὔτε γὰρ ὑµᾶς σοϕωτάτους ἑώρων ὄντας, ἐµαυτὸν δ’ ἀµαθέστατον . . . (‘I was not aware that you were particularly wise and that I was particularly stupid’). The point of the following catalogue of legitimate reasons for repudiating friendship is presumably not that he would have been boring or unpopular company, but that he would not have been in a sufﬁciently powerful position to repay services: for friends as people who are expected to help you, see Konstan (1997: 56–59). §8. πρὸς τοὺς τελευταίους (‘to the latest’). If the text is correct (Carey’s OCT apparatus notes that several editors have substituted words meaning ‘friends’), this would presumably mean either ‘those who have most recently become members’ or ‘those to whom you have most recently spoken’. There may be a hint at the start of the next paragraph that the speaker’s opponents have

8 Details in Parker (2005: 342–350, with discussion at p. 348 n. 91 of the part played by epoptai or former initiates). Post-Classical evidence for the procession of ephebes at the Mysteries is discussed at p. 548 with n. 27 above. 9 Plato, Seventh Letter, 333e2–4: α2λλ’ κ τ8 περιτρεχο$ση /ταιρα τα$τη τ8 τν πλεστων φλων, fν κ το' ξενζειν τε κα µυε;ν κα ποπτε$ειν πραγµατε$ονται. 10 λα´θρα µ&ν is contrasted with φανερ δ (secretly on the one hand, publicly on the other), but there is no stated contrast with οsτινε µ ν.

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ﬁnally gone too far in voicing their criticisms to somebody who has passed them on to him. περὶ µὲν οὖν τοῦ λέγοντος (‘as far as the speaker is concerned’), i.e. presumably the nameless informant who has told him what has been reported at §§3–8. οὐδὲν αν περαίνοιτε πυνθανόµενοι (‘you would not succeed in discovering anything’). His point is evidently the fairly laboured one that they are not in a position to ‘discover’ his informant because the latter’s source of information was themselves: this of course conveniently suppresses the possibility that they might be interested in working out which of the various people with access to this information had passed it on. §9. κακὸς αν εἴην (‘I would be behaving disgracefully’), lit. ‘I would be kakos (“bad”)’. Some of the range of meanings of the term are discussed by Dover 1974: 51–53. εἰ ταὐτὰ ποιήσαιµι αὐτὸν απερ ἐκεῖνος ὑµᾶς (‘if I did the same to him as that man did to you’). My translation of this and the next two sentences has retained the somewhat ugly formulation ‘that man’ for the sake of clarity to signal the Greek pronoun ekeinos, used here ﬁve times in quick succession apparently to denote the anonymous informant. Logically it would be easiest to understand the whole of this sentence as dealing with the informant (along the lines ‘I am not going to pass on named information to you about my informant in the way that he passed on named information from you to me’). Linguistically however we would normally expect ekeinos in such close proximity to denote a different person from autos (here translated ‘him’): but if so, as is noted at p. 545 with n. 16 above, the referent both here and at §13 is unclear. ἀπήγγειλε τοῖς ἐµοῖς ἀναγκαίοις (‘passed it on [lit. “announced”] to my relatives’). Whereas epite¯deioi can just as equally denote friends (e.g. 1.22) as well as relatives (32.12), the use of anankaioi at least in the Lysianic corpus seems to conﬁrm the claim of LSJ s.v. II.5 that it denotes relatives rather than friends (thus 19.38, 20.11, and 31.23). καὶ ταῦτα εἰ µὲν ἠπίστουν (‘if I disbelieved this’). It is not clear whether he means ‘disbelieved the information’ or ‘disbelieved his account of the route by which it had reached him’. νῦν δέ (‘but as it is’). Boegehold (1999: 88) suggests that the grammatical discontinuity here will have been covered by a gesture signifying ‘no, it is not the case that I do not believe this’. ξυµβαίνει γὰρ καὶ ταῦτα τοῖς πρὸ τοῦ καὶ ἐµοὶ σηµεῖα ταῦτα µὲν ἐκείνων ἐστίν, [§10] ἐκεῖνα δὲ τούτων ἱκανά (‘because these things too agree with the earlier ones, and these are for me a proof of those things, [§10] and those things a sufﬁcient proof of these things’). A very laboured argument: presumably he means that the information which has recently reached him from the anonymous

8. Against the Sunousiastai: Commentary §§9–10

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informant has conﬁrmed his earlier suspicions. It is possible though not certain that we are to equate ‘the earlier ones’ with ‘those things’; if so, the source of his previous suspicions would seem to be the following anecdote about the horse.

§§10–13: Previous Disagreements: The Loan and the Horse §10. περὶ τῆς θέσεως τοῦ ἵππου (‘about the pledging of the horse’). Most of our evidence for security at Athens relates either to loans secured on real property (land or houses, esp. through the system of horoi or mortgage-stones) or to loans taken out by maritime traders and secured on their ship or its cargo. Earlier discussions of this passage (e.g. Harrison 1968–71.i: 261) have tended to focus on issues of legal doctrine, relating particularly to the question of which party to a loan had ownership of the pledged property and whether the pledge was substitutive or collateral in nature,11 but E. M. Harris (1988) has argued that the term prasis epi lusei (‘sale with right of redemption’) may not for the Athenians have been doctrinally distinguishable from other terms for landed security such as apotime¯ma and hupothe¯ke¯.12 Part of the problem in interpreting this passage is that we have very few other examples of living objects being used as security for loans,13 in contrast with the extensive evidence for loans secured either on land or on merchant ships and their cargoes; this could reﬂect a general unwillingness to use such security precisely because of the risk that a pledged slave or animal might escape or die. What is clear in the present case is that day-to-day control of the pledged horse—it is probably best to avoid the language of ownership— seems to have been in the hands of the speaker as creditor, since he was in a position to notice the horse’s state of health and mentions that he might have returned it. For the question of whether the horse’s death formally extinguished the debt, see next note but four. πρὸς Ἡγέµαχον (‘[dealings] with Hegemakhos’). Thus Dobree (1874: 204), in place of the Palatinus manuscript’s incomprehensible προσ8γε µα´χοµενον (‘he brought forward [somebody] ﬁghting’, which has no obvious subject for the verb or referent for the participle). For the relationship of Hegemakhos, Diodoros and Polykles to the association that forms the context of the speech, see p. 544 with n. 15 above, where I suggest that Polykles (whose horse is pledged to the speaker in return for a loan) is probably a non-member whose dealings both with the association and therefore with the speaker as creditor have been organised through Hegemakhos as a member, and that Diodoros (described as being present) is probably therefore a member also. 11 A substitutive loan is one in which the creditor’s right is to the article pledged rather than to the money, such that if on foreclosure the pledged article turns out to be more valuable than the outstanding debt, he is under no obligation to repay the difference; a collateral loan is one in which the creditor is entitled only to the money (plus perhaps reasonable expenses). 12 The best full-scale discussion of the horoi is by Finley, which is most usefully consulted in the second edition with extensive introduction by Millett and additional texts (Finley 1985a [1951]). 13 The only signiﬁcant exception is a loan of forty minas which Demosthenes says was made by his father on the security of 20 slaves engaged in manufacturing couches (Dem. 27.24).

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ἀνάγειν µε βουλόµενον (‘wanting to return it’). Hyp. Athenog. §15 uses the verb anago¯, and perhaps more interestingly the cognate noun anago¯ge¯,14 to support his claim that the law requires the seller of a slave to declare any physical disability, in default of which the vendor has the right to return the slave and presumably annul the sale. (For reasons discussed in the last note but one, I do not regard the use of language associated with ‘sale’ here as evidence that the loan in question should juridically be classed as prasis epi lusei.) The fact that the speaker has evidently lost his money suggests that Diodoros was successful in persuading him not to annul the loan. περὶ τῶν δώδεκα µνῶν (‘about the twelve minas’). Evidently the value of the loan. There is some evidence for 1,200 drachmas (= 12 minas) being the standard price of a horse in the latter part of the ﬁfth century:15 this at least is the amount borrowed albeit in comedy by Strepsiades to buy one horse (Aristoph. Clouds, 1224–1225), and also the amount paid by him as the purchase price of another (Clouds, 21–23), both of them apparently racehorses and the second described in terms suggesting it was of the highest quality. We hear elsewhere, however, of much lower ﬁgures for less good horses, for instance the jibe at Isai. 5.43 that the opponent cannot have spent his money on horses since he has never owned one worth 300 drachmas. Kroll (1977), followed by Spence (1993: 274–280), interprets a series of fourth- and third-century lead tokens from the Agora and Kerameikos as recording the capital value of cavalry horses for reimbursement in case of loss in battle, and the latter notes that whereas the fourth-century tokens generally record lower values, a much higher proportion of the third-century tokens record a 1,200–drachma valuation, which seems to be the maximum ﬁgure that the polis is prepared to underwrite. This may suggest that Aristophanes’ ﬁgures are on the high side, or alternatively that race-horses are more expensive than cavalry horses, or that the polis is prepared only to underwrite a proportion of the cost. More securely, perhaps, it suggests also that the price of horses has generally been rising in the intervening period, which could ﬁt well with a post-fourth-century date for the speech itself (see p. 552 above), since we would expect the property pledged to be worth more than this, not least in order to protect the creditor’s interests against a fall in prices (thus Finley 1985a [1951]: 116 on Demosthenes’ father’s bedmakers). κατέστη τελευτῶν ἀντίδικος µετὰ τούτων (‘he eventually set himself up alongside these men as an opposing litigant’). ‘These men’ presumably include the borrower Polykles, and possibly Hegemakhos as his supporter (but conspiratorial

14 Since Athenian laws tend to use verbs when setting up new procedures, the choice of a noun may constitute a claim at least on Hypereides’ part that this is an established institution rather than simply a paraphrase of an unused law. (The juridical signiﬁcance of using verbs vis-à-vis that of using nouns in the framing of legal statutes is discussed by Todd 2000c: 32–34 and by Gagarin 2003: 183–186.) 15 There are no horses on the extant portions of the Attic Stelai, which may suggest that horses were the sort of high-class property item that is best represented as belonging to other members of the accused’s family.

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plurals are not uncommon in the Orators, cf. 3.46n). This description of Diodoros would be particularly potent if as suggested he is a member of the association, given that support for fellow-members in litigation was one of the things expected of such groups. ὡς οὐ δίκαιόν µε εἴη κοµίσασθαι τὸ ἀργύριον (‘that it would not be fair for me to recover the money’). Lipsius (1905–15: 705 with n. 105) reads this as evidence that the horse’s death legally extinguished the debt (cf. last note but four), but the speaker does not acknowledge the validity of Diodoros’ view as a legal principle, and it is at least possible that in his view the death simply put him in a position where it was in practice impossible to recover it without the co-operation which he claims he had been led to expect from the borrower. We do know that maritime loans operated on the principle that the loss of the security (which incidentally remained under the control of the borrower) did extinguish the debt, but they were apparently subject to special legal rules which we have no reason to suppose applied here. §11. ἦ που καλῶς συνέπραττον (‘then I suppose they were acting together properly’). Presumably ironic. Or, reading κακ with Dobree and Gernet & Bizos, ‘acting together improperly’. The subject of the sentence presumably includes Diodoros, Polykles, and possibly Hegemakhos. ϕιλοσοϕοῦντας αὐτοὺς περὶ τοῦ πράγµατος (‘because they were quibbling about the case’). Philosopheo¯ and its cognates are found on 79 occasions in the non-forensic speeches of Isokrates (who represents his own educational activity as being to inculcate a more practical form of philosophia than that of Plato), and 8 times in Demosthenes’ Ero¯tikos, but such language is very rare in other speeches: Aiskhines uses it twice referring to Solon (Aiskhin. 3.108, 3.257) and once of wise men cited by the poets (1.141), and its only other appearance is at Lys. 24.10, where it denotes the ‘wholehearted pursuit’ of the aim of managing one’s own disability with the minimum of discomfort. §12. παρόντων τῶν διαιτητῶν (‘while the arbitrators were present’). The plurality of arbitrators suggests that this must be private arbitration, in which arbitrators were chosen by the litigants who seem in principle to have been bound to accept their verdict and could not subsequently take the matter to court (for the contrast with ofﬁcial arbitration see p. 630 below). ὀργιζόµενος ὁ Πολυκλῆς εἶπεν (‘Polykles lost his temper . . . and said’). Theomnestos in Lys. 10.30 is said to be pleading that he similarly made a statement in court on the basis of anger, but since anger is in both cases something that the speaker attributes to his opponent, we may infer that it is not a very plausible argument in mitigation. ὅτι καὶ τοῖς ἐµοῖς ἐπιτηδείοις ἀδικεῖν δοκοίην (‘that I was thought to be doing wrong even by my friends’). For epite¯deioi as friends and/or relatives, see §9n. Since friends—who in this case may include the members of the association—are

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expected to support each other in contexts of litigation, their alleged failure to do so can be a particularly damning criticism. ὁ γὰρ αὐτὸς ἀπήγγειλεν (‘the same person passed on the information’), lit. ‘announced’, presumably referring to the information passed to the speaker by the anonymous informant at §§8–9. §13. ᾔδει ποτ̓ ἐκεῖνος (‘could that man have known’). For the use of ekeinos throughout this speech, see generally p. 545 with n. 16 above; individual examples are discussed at §3n and at §9n. Since this pronoun was used in §12 evidently to refer to Polykles, it is perhaps most likely that it is Polykles again who is being referred to here. Grammatically less comfortable would be a reference to the anonymous informant (on the assumption that he is the person being referred to at the end of §12), but the latter might be more likely to be ignorant of the position being adopted by Kleitodikos. Κλειτοδίκου δεηθείς (‘I had asked Kleitodikos’). As is noted at p. 544 above, we are given no explanation of Kleitodikos’ function in the narrative, though the implication that he could have been expected to appear on the speaker’s behalf may suggest that he was a member of the association. ἐπιλέγειν (‘to speak in support’). The only other use of the verb in our speeches is at Aiskhin. 2.157 (a rather theatrical description of Demosthenes speaking in the Assembly), but the noun epilogos is regularly used in manuscript titles to denote a peroration or supplementary speech (e.g. Lys. 18, Lys. 27, Lys. 28, and Lys. 29). οὐ γὰρ δὴ παρῆν τούτοις (‘for he was not present at their meeting’). The translation offered here is a fairly neutral version of a personal construction, following the majority of translators (Gernet & Bizos, Fernández-Galiano, Albini, and Medda),16 though it should be noted that pareimi can denote support rather than physical presence (LSJ s.v. I.4). I have in the past wondered whether the construction here might be impersonal (‘it was not possible for them’, in Todd 2000a: 92), but it is perhaps easier with a personal construction to explain the sudden introduction of the plural ‘them’, along the lines that Kleitodikos had not been party e.g. to the putative conversations which Polykles claims at §12 to have held with friends of the speaker, and that this had been the basis presumably of the speaker’s request for his support rather than of his refusal. The passage is however extremely obscure, even by the standards of this speech. <τί> κέρδος ἦν αὐτῷ (‘what proﬁt was there for him’). It is hard to see who is being referred to here. Grammatically we would expect autos to be somebody other than the ekeinos with which §13 begins, and possibly therefore Kleitodikos, but there has so far been no clear indication of any active hostility towards the speaker on the latter’s part. 16 Lamb puts it into indirect speech ‘I was told that he was not present at their meeting’, for which we would expect the inﬁnitive παρε;ναι, but Albini (1955: 361 n. 5) rightly objects that there is no textual basis for this.

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διαβάλλειν ἐµὲ πρὸς ὑµᾶς (‘slandering me in front of you’). Or possibly ‘setting me at variance with you’ (thus P. A. Müller 1926: 41, cf. LSJ s.v. diaballo¯ III), though the concentration on back-biting throughout the speech would perhaps lead us to expect a reference to malicious speech (LSJ s.v. diaballo¯ V) as in the translation offered here. πρὸς τοὺς ἐµοὺς ἀναγκαίους (‘for the consumption of my relatives’). For anankaioi, see §9n.

§§14–17: Previous Allegations of Slander §14. Θρασύµαχον ὑµᾶς ἐϕάσκετε κακῶς λέγειν (‘you said that . . . Thrasymakhos was slandering you’). There seem to be two separate episodes involving Thrasymakhos here: at §14, he is alleged to be slandering the association presumably by speaking against Diodoros (the person who had dissuaded the speaker from demanding fresh security for the loan and who is described in terms that suggest membership of the association, cf. §10n), a charge which he denies; at §15, he and the speaker appear together, where they are told by Autokrates of allegations allegedly made by Thrasymakhos, which they promptly investigate by interviewing the alleged source Menophilos, who denies the story. For the suggestion that Thrasymakhos may be a current member of the association but one who is friendly towards the speaker, see p. 545 above. ἐγὼ µὲν ἠρώτων αὐτόν (‘I asked him’). Thrasymakhos, presumably. πολλοῦ γὰρ δεῖν ἔϕη δἰ ὁντινοῦν εἰρηκέναι ∆ιόδωρον κακῶς (‘he said that it was totally untrue that he had slandered Diodoros on anybody’s account’), lit. ‘that it was far from being that. . .’. The thrust of the denial presumably relates to the ‘slander’ rather than to ‘anybody’s account’. For Diodoros, see last note but one. ταῦτα προσάγοντος ἐµοῦ (‘while I was pursuing this matter’). Prosago¯ in the Orators is used frequently in the sense of introducing a case to court (LSJ s.v. 8), but also of allowing Andokides back into Athens (Lys. 6.29) and of introducing a banker to a client (Dem. 49.17, 29). On this basis, we would expect it here to mean that the speaker was trying to refer the dispute to a group of people who would be expected to resolve it, but quite possibly in an informal rather than a judicial context. περὶ ὧν οὗτος ἔλεγεν (‘about the things which this man was saying’). For the pronoun houtos, see p. 545 n. 16 above. The reference is evidently to somebody who has been making hostile statements about Thrasymakhos: this could be Diodoros, if we assume that he will have been seeking to counter alleged criticisms of himself; alternatively, it could be an unnamed individual member of the association underlying the second person plural in the last note but three. πάντα µᾶλλον διεπράττετο (‘preferred to arrange everything differently’), lit. ‘arranged everything rather’ (i.e. in a way that better suited himself).

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§15. Αὐτοκράτης ἐµοῦ παρόντος Θρασυµάχῳ ἔλεγεν (‘Autokrates told Thrasymakhos in my presence’). For Thrasymakhos, see §14n. As is noted at pp. 544–545 above, Autokrates, who is mentioned only here, may or may not be a member of the association. Εὐρυπτόλεµον αὐτῷ µέµϕεσθαι (‘that Euryptolemos was criticising him’). Euryptolemos is mentioned only here and in the ﬁnal sentence of §15: for the suggestion that the attribution to him of critical and allegedly untrue gossip may indicate how the speaker wishes to portray a current member of the association, see p. 545 above. Both here and in the next note, autos (‘he/him’) probably denotes Thrasymakhos, because he is the one who takes steps to check the rumour, though it could conceivably refer to Autokrates (see p. 545 n. 16 above for other uses of the pronoun in this speech). ϕάσκοντα κακῶς ἀκούειν ὑπ̓ αὐτοῦ (‘was saying that he was being slandered by him’). The accusative case of the participle, and the absence of a subject for the inﬁnitive, make it rather clearer in Greek than in my English translation that it is Euryptolemos who is both saying and (allegedly) being slandered. For autos, see previous note: since this is a claim allegedly made by Euryptolemos, the agent of the alleged slander must be somebody else, and it is linguistically easiest to suppose it is the same person as the autos in the previous clause. τὸν ἀπαγγέλλοντα δὲ εἶναι Μηνόϕιλον (‘his informant had been Menophilos’). For the chronological signiﬁcance of the name, see p. 551 above. He is found only here and in the following sentence; our inability to determine whether or not he is a member of the association is noted at p. 545 above. ἐκεῖνος ἐπὶ τὸν Μηνόϕιλον ἐβάδιζε µετ̓ ἐµοῦ (‘that man went with me to Menophilos’). It seems fairly clear that the pronoun ekeinos here must refer to Thrasymakhos, since he is the person who has received new information in the conversation that has just been described, and is therefore likely to want to check its alleged source: see following note. κἀκεῖνος οὔτε ἀκοῦσαι πώποτε ἔϕασκεν (‘and that man stated that he had never heard it’). Here by contrast ekeinos must refer to Menophilos, since he is the only party to this conversation who is in a position to conﬁrm or deny Euryptolemos’ enquiry. Even the use of kai (‘and’), which perhaps alerts us to the possibility of a change of subject, does little to soften the awkwardness of having the same pronoun introduce successive sentences while referring to different people, but this is only the most jarring use of third-person pronouns in the speech (for other examples, see p. 545 with n. 16 above). §16. ὀϕειλόµενόν µοι ταῦτα παθεῖν (‘that I was bound to suffer this fate’), lit. ‘that it was owed to me to suffer this’. πάντ̓ εἴρηκα πρὸς ὑµᾶς (‘I have told you my entire case’), lit. ‘said everything to you’: as he might have been expected to, on the basis that members of the

8. Against the Sunousiastai: Commentary §§16–18

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association were expected to assist him in litigation and that Polykles seems to have been a non-member. §17. εὔηθές τι ἔπαθον (‘I was too naïve’). Dover (1974: 126) translates as lit., ‘I underwent something simple-minded’, and cites Dem. 19.338 and Menander, Geo¯rgos, 71 for the idiom. ἀπόθετος ὑµῖν εἶναι ϕίλος τοῦ µηδὲν ἀκοῦσαι κακόν (‘that I was a special friend of yours, exempt from being slandered’). Apothetos (adj.) denotes that which is stored up or hidden away, and thus ‘reserved for special occasions’ (LSJ s.v. 3), though I am not aware of any parallels for its use in conjunction with what appears to be a genitive of separation. παρακαταθήκην ἔχων (‘and that I held . . . as a safe-deposit’). Parakatathe¯ke¯ is most often found in the Orators as a juridical term, referring to money or valuables deposited for safe-keeping in the hands of a third party (hence dike¯ parakatathe¯ke¯s, a private prosecution seeking to compel the return of such items), but its use as a metaphor is not uncommon: jurors in particular are said to hold the laws and/or their oath as if ‘on trust’ for their fellow-citizens (Aiskhin. 1.187; Dem. 21.177), while the Areiopagos holds the protection of the lives of the citizens on a similar basis (Dein. 1.9); a politician going on an embassy can leave behind ‘pledges’ of his honesty (Aiskhin. 2.146); and a man on his deathbed can place his heirs physically in the hands of his guardians as something ‘entrusted’. λόγους πονηρούς (‘criminal remarks’). lit. ‘words (or speeches) which are pone¯roi’.

§§18–20: Peroration §18. µὰ τοὺς θεούς (‘by the gods’). For the invocation, see 6.7n. ὅ τι ζηµιωθήσοµαι µὴ ξυνὼν ὑµῖν (‘what penalty I shall suffer if I cease to associate with you’). An interesting use of legal metaphor: ze¯mia, together with its cognates, can simply mean ‘loss, damage’ (LSJ, s.v. I), but is the normal term for a ﬁne imposed by a law-court (for which see 9.6n). To ‘associate’ here and in the following clause is lit. ‘be together’ (as in sunousia, cf. pp. 546–547 above), whereas I have used ‘friendship’ at the start of §18 to render philia. πότερον γάρ (‘is it the case’). For the second half of this double question, see the start of §19. ὅταν ᾖ τί µοι πρᾶγµα (‘when I am faced with some legal business’). Pragma is lit. an ‘important matter’, but the mention in the following clause of witnesses alongside somebody to speak indicates clearly that he has litigation in mind. For mutual assistance in litigation as one of the rôles of such an association, see p. 547 with n. 22 above: it is worth bearing in mind here that this is a world without an effective system of subpoena, in which witnessing may therefore involve a much more partisan commitment to support one’s principal than applies in modern jurisdictions (thus Todd 1990a: 24–25 and 27).

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τὸν λέγοντα πειρᾶσθε κωλύειν (‘you are seeking to prevent the one who is speaking’), i.e. presumably someone who would otherwise be willing to appear on the speaker’s behalf, though there is no clear reference to this elsewhere in the speech. §19. οὐκ ἐµποδὼν ὑµῖν ἔσται (‘there will be no obstacle in your way’). This could mean that he would not object to their fulﬁlling the proper duties which he has just outlined (i.e. supporting him in litigation or saying good things about him). There is however a tone of heavy irony in the peroration of this speech, which suggests his point may be that he will no longer object to their back-biting because he is ﬁnished with them; and this would account better for the connecting particle at the start of the following sentence. ἕνα τῶν ξυνόντων (‘one of the members of your association’). The choice of numeral is interesting, since elsewhere the charge seems to be of a general mood of back-biting rather than a collective determination to pick on an individual like himself. But of course it suits his argument to suggest that they have all been ganging up on him. τὸ δὲ τελευταῖον εἷς ὁ λειπόµενος αὐτὸς αὑτὸν κακῶς ἐρεῖ (‘ﬁnally the only one who is left will resort to slandering himself’). ‘An almost funny joke, which is unusual in the Orators, though see Lys. 24 and Lys. frag. Aeschines’ (Todd 2000a: 94 n. 10). The parallel that comes to mind is the famous front-page headline in the British tabloid newspaper The Sun on the morning of the 9 April 1992 General Election: ‘If Kinnock wins today, will the last person to leave Britain please turn out the lights.’ §20. κερδανῶ δὲ τοσοῦτον (‘I will have at least this advantage’), lit. ‘I will beneﬁt this much’. Such language is for the ﬁrst time applied positively to himself as a now-no-longer-member: elsewhere in the speech the possibility of proﬁt is mentioned in a rhetorical question at §13 only to be denied (referring probably to Kleitodikos, who is probably a member), and we are explicitly told at §18 that the speaker’s membership has brought him no beneﬁt.

Lysias 9 On behalf of the Soldier Introduction I. DATE, AUTHORSHIP, AND HISTORICAL VALUE Like Lys. 8, this speech is widely believed not to be the work of Lysias himself, but the issues regarding its authenticity and historical signiﬁcance are in two respects very different from those raised by the previous speech. In the ﬁrst place, it purports to have been written for a genuine trial: speciﬁcally an apographe¯ (§3, cf. §21),1 a procedure in which some or all of the speaker’s property is denounced as belonging to the state, in this case because of his failure to pay a summary ﬁne previously imposed for alleged insults to a public ofﬁcial. Second, although the speech provides no reference to any person or event that we can securely date, it is now generally accepted that there is no reason why it could not have been produced in the early fourth century.2 If it is the contemporary product of a genuine trial, then whatever its authorship the speech retains considerable historical value in two important contexts: ﬁrst, as evidence for the powers and responsibilities at Athens of the ten elected Generals (Gk. strate¯gos, pl. strate¯goi), particularly in matters involving the enlistment of citizens for

1 Although P.Oxy. 2537 (see pp. 20–21 above, and cf. pp. 545–546 above) classiﬁes Lys. 8–11 under the heading ‘kake¯goria’, the only genuine dike¯ kake¯gorias (private prosecution for defamation) in the corpus is Lys. 10. On apographe¯, see further pp. 590–591 below: Dover (1968: 8) suggests that Lys. 9 might equally have appeared in the Palatinus manuscript alongside Lys. 27–29, but this may be a misprint for the group of apographe¯-speeches at Lys. 17–19. (Lys. 27–29 all involve property conﬁscation, but only the third is an apographe¯.) 2 The most recent scholar to my knowledge who regards Lys. 9 as a late rhetorical exercise in the form of a speech is Fernández-Galiano (1953: 179); earlier doubts about date are explored in the next two paragraphs. The case for a doubly authentic speech (i.e. written by Lysias for a real case) has been put forward more rarely, though see tentatively Motschmann (1905: 27–28), who relies primarily on the negative argument that it is too incomplete to be decisively rejected. The proposition that it is a speech contemporary with (indeed, written by) Lysias but for a ﬁctitious occasion is put forward by Darkow (1917: 41–45), for whom indeed this hypothesis serves to explain all the forensic speeches in the corpus.

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military service;3 and second, and more broadly, as evidence for the executive authority of public ofﬁcials within the democratic polis, and the extent to which the law granted them special protection against insult while functioning as agents of the city.4 Earlier scholars’ reservations about the authorship and date of Lys. 9 were based partly on linguistic grounds, including several examples of what were claimed to be post-Classical or non-Athenian uses.5 One of these is discussed in the only certain independent testimonium to the speech, by the lexicographer Harpokration,6 who notes that Lysias’ speech For the Soldier, if genuine, uses the word dikaio¯sis in the plural in place of dikaiologia (plea in justiﬁcation), but that Thucydides often uses it in contexts of punishment. This has been held to demonstrate that the use of the word here is aberrant, though in fact punishment is at issue in only one of the ﬁve passages where it is found in Thucydides (Thuc. 8.66.2), whereas in two others it is used of ‘justiﬁcations’ that are asserted for military or political action (3.82.4 and 4.86.6) and once of ‘claims’ put forward in diplomatic negotiations (5.17.2), while in the remaining passage, perhaps closest to the use in this speech, it denotes a quasi-judicial ‘claim of right’ (albeit used by Thuc. 1.141.1 in a context of international relations, whereas Lys. 9.8 is about defence arguments in a domestic law court). Linguistically, therefore, both this and the two other allegedly abnormal linguistic uses are less than compelling evidence that this is a post-Classical work,7 though we should bear in mind that 3 The speech has received surprisingly little attention in recent specialist work on the Athenian military. It appears brieﬂy in Hamel’s account of conscription (Hamel 1998: 24–26), but her discussion of military authority focuses on discipline in the ﬁeld and military tribunals back at Athens (Hamel 1998: 59–64), rather than on the issues raised here by the alleged insult. Burckhardt (1996: 164 with n. 35), by contrast, refuses to discuss both Lys. 9 and also Lys. 15, apparently on the premise that works not securely attributable to a named orator thereby lose their status as historical evidence. It is of course true that whereas the speech would remain valuable evidence for the law on insulting the Generals even if delivered in the 330s (cf. p. 583 below), its value as evidence for military enlistment is enhanced if it can be dated to the early fourth century, thereby allowing it to be located within a sequence of other evidence for changes in this process. 4 These aspects of the case are discussed at pp. 592–593 below. Broader discussion of the law on defamation, however, will be postponed until pp. 632–635 below, for reasons noted in the last footnote but two. 5 The use of pronouns is sometimes cited in this context, for instance by Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 133 n. 3) and by Albini (1955: 365). Whereas Lysias normally refers to the speaker’s opponents as ο3τοι and never elsewhere as οsδε, the latter form predominates in this speech at §7 twice, §11, §19 once, and §21, though ο3τοι is found at §13, §19, and §20 (οsδε however is also used once, if the text is sound, probably as shorthand for a group of public ofﬁcials such as the Tamiai: see §19n). But the use of οsδε to denote the speaker’s opponents is clearly attested in several other orators, albeit conﬁned to particular speeches (e.g. Ant. 5.68, Andok. 1.22, Isai. 6.11 and passim), so there is no question of its being a non-classical usage. 6 Harpok. s.v. dikaio¯sis. There are shorter versions of this entry, identifying only the author rather than the speech but clearly dependent on Harpokration, in Cramer Anecdota Oxoniensia vol. 2 p. 493.2, in the Souda (D.1085 Adler), and in Zonaras (vol. 1 p. 519.1–4, Tittmann). For another possible testimonium, see p. 590 n. 34 below. 7 Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 229) and Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 211) cite as instances of ‘doubtful Attic’: (a) the adverbial use at §10 of ντ* rather than -νδον to denote activity performed ‘within’ or ‘during’

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Harpokration also had doubts about authorship, and that his reasons for this may not have been conﬁned to the single linguistic usage which he discusses. Having said that, it should be noted that scholars tend to praise Harpokration’s negative judgment about the authorship of particular speeches when they agree with it, and to ﬁnd reasons for dissenting when they do not.8 Other reasons that have been put forward for claiming that this cannot be a genuine speech of the early fourth century include alleged errors in what is said about Athenian law on the defamation of public ofﬁcials (which will be discussed in the ﬁnal section of this Introduction), and more speciﬁcally what seems to be a reference at §6 to the supporters or attendants of ‘Ktesikles the arkho¯n’ (ο! δ& µετα` Κτησικλ ου το' α%ρχοντο).9 If the reference here is to ‘the Arkhon’ in the narrow sense of the term (i.e. the chief of the Nine Arkhons), then the speech can be rapidly dated, because this is the one ofﬁce for which we have a complete list of fourth-century holders, and the only year when an ofﬁcial of that name (or one that could easily have been corrupted into it) is 334/3, nearly half a century after the end of Lysias’ career. This was regarded by many earlier scholars as conclusive proof of inauthenticity. But it is difﬁcult to see any constitutional basis for the Arkhon to have involved himself in a case arising out of the jurisdiction of the Generals (§4) and involving one or other category of ﬁnancial ofﬁcials; and it is notable that Lysias elsewhere twice uses the plural arkhontes to denote not the Nine Arkhons but more broadly ‘ofﬁcials’, at 14.21 and 16.16 (the latter speciﬁcally military ofﬁcials on campaign). So although the hypothesis that Ktesikles is one of the Generals met with some initial objections from nineteenth-century critics,10 it seems now generally to have been accepted.11 an ofﬁcial’s sunedrion (this is admittedly the sole appearance of ντ* in Lysias, but Thuc. 7.78.2 uses it adverbially to denote those ‘inside’ a military square); (b) the use at §17 of τ π ρα as a time-phrase to mean ‘at last’ or ‘in the end’ (but this phrase is now common in Menander, who uses it adverbially at Geo¯rgos 49 and at Epitrep. 287 and 533 to mark the ﬁnal stage in an argument, and at Phasma 39 to mean ‘in brief’). Shuckburgh also objects to the passive voice of διελεκτο, but acknowledges that it is easily emended (see §5n). 8

See pp. 28–29 above, and in more detail pp. 626–627 below. The implications of interpreting ο! µετα´ as supporters or as attendants are discussed at pp. 587– 589 below. 10 e.g. Lipsius (1905–15: 299 n. 2) and Pabst (1890: 46–47), both arguing from a priori assumptions about the phrase ο! µετα´: the former thinks that these are themselves the Generals, and that Ktesikles must therefore be something else; the latter asserts that the phrase would imply that Ktesikles held an exceptional position as General-in-Chief, whereas the Generals normally operated as a college of equals. Francken (1865: 65) objected that the building in which the Generals held ofﬁce should have been described at §9 as the strate¯geion (for which see Camp 1986: 116–118) rather than as the arkheion, but this may be an allusion to the law summarised in §6 and cited at the end of §8, which Polyainos reports as banning insults to any public ofﬁcial (§6 arkhe¯, the proximity of which may be the reason why Ktesikles was described as arkho¯n) rather than simply to strate¯goi. Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 229 n. 4), claiming that Ktesikles if a General could not have been described as arkho¯n, suggested that the latter was a mistaken gloss by a copyist, but this ignores the two parallels from Lys. 14 and Lys. 16 cited above. 11 Thus for instance the prosopographical treatments of Athenian Generals by Hansen (1983c: 171, restated in updated inventory at 1989: 52) and by Develin (1989: 207), both identify him with the 9

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The question of authorship, however, is—as often in the corpus—wholly separable from the question of occasion: the attempts of earlier scholars to identify distinctively post-Classical linguistic uses in the speech may have been shown to be inconclusive, but that does not necessarily mean that the language is that of Lysias. A list of seven words found nowhere else in Lysias is discussed in detail by Pabst (1890: 30–33), but this is not a particularly high number of hapaxes;12 four of these recur among six words and phrases highlighted for attention by Blass, who notes perhaps more perceptively that, though lively and distinctive (they tend to appear together at particular points in the text), they may not suit the plain style generally attributed to Lysias.13 Usher & Najock (1982: 103–104), in their computer-based stylometric analysis of the Lysianic corpus, conclude that this is the most divergent of all the speeches, and therefore the least likely to be by Lysias, though it is worth noting that this is the product of considerable divergence on three of their ﬁve stylometric tests and no divergence on the other two.14 To my mind, however, the strongest argument against authorship (and the one which makes me think that the speech is probably not by Lysias, though I do regard it as a speech for a genuine trial, and very probably from Lysias’ lifetime)15 is a certain lack of structural and narrative clarity. This is admittedly not on the scale of what we ﬁnd in Lys. 8 (cf. pp. 542–545 above), where the speaker creates the impression of not even bothering to explain who is doing what; in the present speech, by contrast, he is just not doing it particularly well. Among minor lapses from clarity are the speaker’s failure to fulﬁl the promise at §3 to discuss his general character (but the promise is phrased vaguely, and may simply be captatio malevolentiae directed at the opponents’ unfairness in forcing him to discuss this), the slightly abrupt introduction, and (as was noted at p. 582 n. 5 above) the awkward repetition of the same pronoun at §19 to denote two different groups of people. But perhaps most signiﬁcant is the use of names: in contrast to Lys. 8, we are this time introduced to Philios (§5), to Sostratos (§13) and perhaps even to Ktesikles (§6) in terms that make clear at least their function within the Ktesikles who is known from Diodoros and (as emended) from Xenophon to have held the generalship probably in both 374/3 and 373/2, and both suggest that he may well have served an earlier term during the Corinthian War, e.g. in the late 390s. (No other General of this name is attested in Develin’s index.) The question is not treated in any detail in the most recent discussion of the speech, by MacDowell (1994: brief comment at p. 153), nor in the response by Dreher (1994), but neither appears to see any reason to challenge a Corinthian War dating. 12

If we take as a comparison P. A. Müller’s analysis cited at p. 550 above, Pabst’s ﬁgures for Lys. 9 would equate to 32 hapaxes in every 100§§ of text, which is lower than Müller’s ﬁgure for Lys. 31 and much lower than his ﬁgures for Lys. 8 or Lys. 6. 13 Blass (1887 [1868]: 600 with n. 4), citing §4 7ποτοπ οµαι, §4 /π µηδεν 7γιε;, §8 δικαι=σι, and §10 πληµµελ ω (found among Pabst’s hapaxes alongside §1 παραµελ ω, §5 νδηµ ω, and §11 συγγιγν=σκω) together with §4 προπηλακιζ*µαι and §10 παραλ*γω. 14 For discussion of this point, which is one of my chief reservations about the methodology adopted by Usher & Najock, see pp. 29–30 above. 15 See p. 591 below for the argument of Andrewes (1981) that this speech portrays a system of hoplite call-up which became obsolete no later than the mid fourth century.

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narrative; the same however cannot be said of the cryptic remark that ‘Polyainos had been staying in Athens for no less time than Kallikrates’, which is attributed at §5 to the Generals. A careful reading within the context of the speech suggests that Polyainos is himself the speaker, and that Kallikrates is probably a fellowconscript who had decided not to press a claim for exemption based on recent military service.16 But the author of the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses evidently read the sentence the other way, and identiﬁes the speaker as Kallikrates (Lys. frag. 308, recto line 17): this is surely a mistake, but what is revealing is that the mistake has been made.

II. PRIVATE INDIVIDUALS AND PUBLIC OFFICIALS With the possible exception of Ktesikles (discussed at p. 583 with n. 11 above), none of those named in the speech can be identiﬁed outside it. This has caused some surprise in the case of Sostratos, who is introduced at §13 in terms which suggest that before his death he had been a political ﬁgure of some substance. It is possible, of course, that the speech is deliberately exaggerating Sostratos’ importance: all the more so if Blass (1887: 597 n. 6) was right to interpret §14 and perhaps §18 as implying that Polyainos the speaker had been much the younger of the two and that Sostratos had been his lover,17 since on this hypothesis it might be in his interests to make it sound as if the prosecutors are victimising him as a way of expressing their enmity towards Sostratos. But the name Sostratos is very common,18 and it is always worth bearing in mind the cautionary possibility, given the state of our knowledge, that even quite prominent Athenians may simply have disappeared without leaving a trace in either literary or epigraphic sources. Polyainos himself was, as we have seen, almost certainly still a relatively young man, who during Sostratos’ lifetime had been too young to get involved in politics.19 MacDowell (1994: 154), while noting that Polyainos was certainly an 16 For this interpretation, together with Reiske’s alternative suggestion for Kallikrates, see §5n. For the signiﬁcance of the remark in the context of the call-up process, see p. 592 at n. 41 below. P.Oxy. 2537 is discussed at pp. 20–21 above, and cf. also pp. 545–546 above. 17 For the age-gap between older eraste¯s and younger ero¯menos that was expected of Athenian homosexual relationships, see p. 278 above. 18 It is held by 171 individuals in LGPN Attica, so there is no reason to identify this man e.g. with the friend of Euphiletos in Lys. 1.22. None of the other names in the speech is this common: there are 127 individuals in LGPN Attica named Kallikrates, forty-three named Ktesikles, and nine each named Philios and Polyainos. (Kirchner’s suggested identiﬁcation of Polyainos here with the testator in Lys. frag. 265 remains highly speculative, since the speech in question evidently relates to an inheritance dispute: thus Barabino 1967: 104.) 19 That is, certainly under the age of 30 (which was the minimum for public ofﬁce) and possibly younger (see next footnote but one: later in the 4th cent., citizens could attend the Assembly at 18 but not speak until 20, but we do not for certain know whether that rule already applied at this date). Taken on its own, the allusion to his age (he¯likia) at §14 is ambiguous, and might mean that he had

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Athenian citizen, since the reference to ‘any of the citizens’ at §7 clearly includes himself, nevertheless ﬁnds odd the claim at §5 to have consulted ‘one of the citizens’, as if this were a group among which he felt somehow marginal;20 he speculates that instead of being a citizen by birth, Polyainos may have been among those granted citizenship in return for services to Athens, perhaps (he suggests) for ﬁghting at the battle of Arginousai. There are however both positive and negative difﬁculties with this reconstruction, some of which are raised in the response to MacDowell’s paper by Dreher (1994: at pp. 165–166). To start with the positive objections: unlike Dreher, who sees the reference to Polyainos’ nonparticipation in politics during Sostratos’ lifetime as evidence that this was before he came of age at 18, I am prepared to countenance the possibility that he means only that he was too young to hold ofﬁce at 30; but if Polyainos had been Sostratos’ ero¯menos, we would certainly expect this relationship to have started during the former’s teenage years, which implies that he must have been living in Athens from this time.21 Perhaps more importantly (a point also raised by Dreher), if Polyainos had been enfranchised as a reward for services rendered, we might expect him to allude in some way to such services.22 To this we may add the negative observation, that it is not uncommon in the corpus of Lysias to ﬁnd polite¯s in contexts where English would most naturally use ‘fellow-citizen’,23 which signiﬁcantly weakens MacDowell’s argument that §5 requires special explanation. On this basis, I am inclined to see Polyainos certainly as a nativeborn Athenian, and possibly as having the sort of socioeconomic status that would make him a suitable ero¯menos for somebody of Sostratos’ alleged prominence, though this as we have seen may itself be exaggerated, and the slightly functionalist tone of §§13–14 may suggest an awareness of social climbing. Ktesikles, as noted at p. 583 with n. 11 above, is probably one of the Generals. His rôle in the process of military call-up will be discussed in the ﬁnal section of this Introduction. MacDowell’s paper has however raised questions already been too old for political involvement, but that would hardly be said of somebody who is still young enough for military service (i.e. presumably under the age of 60, assuming that some version of the rule in Ath.Pol. 53.7 applied to this earlier period as well). We are not told how long Sostratos has been dead, but the argument at §§13–15 would hardly work if it were more than a few years. 20 He also ﬁnds odd the fact that Polyainos feels the need to point out that he knew about Sostratos’ power, inﬂuence, and services to the city (§§13–14), and his apparent readiness to leave Athens if condemned to pay what would seem to be a relatively small ﬁne (§21), both of which in his view would make more sense if he had only recently obtained citizenship and come to live at Athens. But the ﬁrst of these passages is only slightly more blatant in its functionalist attitude towards friendship than is the description of the speaker’s family’s choice of marriage-alliances at Lys. 19.12–17, while the latter can be read simply as a grandiose appeal for pity. 21 See last footnote but one (ofﬁce-holding age) and last footnote but three (ero¯menos). 22 As Apollodoros does at Dem. 45.85, albeit in a way that allows him to claim that he is not trying to place the jury under an obligation towards himself. 23 Polite¯s as ‘fellow-citizen’: e.g. Lys. 3.9, 4.19, 16.8, 20.12, and possibly 7.31. It is worth noting that although the verb sumpoliteuomai (‘to be a fellow-citizen’) is common, the noun sumpolite¯s is not found in the Orators.

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about his relationship with two other groups or possible groups of ofﬁcials, which are most easily dealt with in the opposite order to that in which they are introduced to us in the speech. In the ﬁnal sentence of §6, we are told that although Ktesikles & co. (though cf. below) did not themselves attempt to exact the ﬁne which they had imposed on Polyainos for his slander, nevertheless at the end of the year they handed it over in written form to the Tamiai. The word tamias denotes a ‘steward’ or ‘treasurer’, either private or public or somewhere between the two: Lys. 29.3, for instance, tells us that Ergokles the former General had ‘made Philokrates the tamias of his money’, in a context where the implied level of personal choice would seem to suggest a private arrangement, even though the money concerned will presumably have been pay for his men, entrusted to Ergokles in his ofﬁcial capacity. In Lys. 9, however, the reference is clearly to a board of public ofﬁcials, and earlier scholars tended to assume that this was the best-known such board, the Tamiai of the Goddess (Athene) and of the Other Gods, which served as a combined board in charge of Athens’ various sacred treasuries from 406/5 to 385/4 bc.24 Temple treasuries fulﬁlled a wide range of what to us would often seem civic or political purposes, but MacDowell (1994: 161) has pointed out that we would expect the ﬁne in this purely secular case to have been collected instead by the Praktores (‘exacters’), whose task was to receive payment of money owing to the de¯mosion (public treasury):25 we do hear of state debtors owing money to both groups of ofﬁcials possibly as a result of unpaid ﬁnes,26 but MacDowell draws attention to a law quoted at Dem. 43.71, where it is only Athene’s one-tenth share of a ﬁne for an apparently quasi-sacral offence that goes to the Tamiai, with the rest going to the Praktores. His solution, which is an attractive one, is that this again (like the use of arkho¯n apparently meaning strate¯gos) is a careless use of Tamiai, as a term with broad and non-technical meaning, in place of the more accurate and speciﬁc Praktores.27 MacDowell’s other suggestion relates to the phrase ο! δ& µετα` Κτησικλ ου το' α%ρχοντο at the start of §6, glossed above as ‘Ktesikles & co.’. The phrase hoi meta (lit. ‘those with’) is common in Greek to denote the supporters of a political leader or the members of his faction, and traditional readings have sought to interpret it here on this grammatical basis, though with some controversy over its precise meaning.28 MacDowell (1994: 157–158), however, noting that there has 24 For the dates, see Rhodes (1981: 391). There were other boards of Tamiai (e.g. the Hellenotamiai or ‘Treasurers of the Greeks’, who collected the tribute from the cities of the ﬁfth-century Athenian empire, and the Tamias of the Stratiotic Fund attested after 373), but none of these is plausible here, not least for chronological reasons. 25 An alternative would be the Apodektai (for which see Ath.Pol. 48.1 with Rhodes 1981: 557–558), whose remit as ‘receivers’ included revenues destined both for temple treasuries and for other funds. 26 Both categories of debtor are among those whose civic rights were restored by Patrokleides’ decree of 405/4 (Andok. 1.77). 27 For the concern of earlier scholars that the Tamiai would not have had the authority to summon the Generals, see §7n. The question of whether and on what basis they took it on themselves to remit Polyainos’ debt is discussed in the third section of this Introduction. 28 Compare the views of Lipsius and of Pabst cited at p. 583 n. 10 above, and see further §6n.

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already been an unexplained transition at §5 to the plural verb apeiloien (‘they were threatening [to imprison me]’), suggests reading hoi de instead as a freestanding pronominal use of the deﬁnite article, to mean ‘but they (unspeciﬁed), together with Ktesikles’; he takes the various plurals as referring somewhat cryptically to the various Grammateis or secretaries who are attested as assisting many Athenian public ofﬁcials, and seeks to use this to explain the curious claim at §11 that ‘they’ did not undergo euthunai, which was the end-of-year accounting procedure that was required of all ofﬁcials on demitting ofﬁce, but from which he suggests that these particular secretaries may have been exempt. His negative argument here is convincing (that the crucial phrase cannot be interpreted to mean ‘they underwent euthunai but omitted this matter from their accounting’, which is how earlier scholars had tended to read it, cf. §11n), but overall his hypothesis here seems less persuasive than his interpretation of the Tamiai, primarily because he does not in my view successfully resolve the problem about the euthunai.29 MacDowell does offer epigraphic evidence for one case in which a Grammateus served recurrent terms in the 440s and 430s, suggesting that rules preventing iteration of this post may not always have been strictly observed.30 But the two parallels that could be cited to support his claim that a reappointed Grammateus would not be liable for euthunai at the end of his ﬁrst year seem unpersuasive. Scholars have sometimes suggested that the requirement for annual euthunai might have had to be waived for Generals re-elected while serving abroad throughout the campaigning season, but there is no such argument from necessity for a re-appointed Grammateus based at Athens. The second possible parallel, proposed by MacDowell himself (1994: 160), is that of Nikomakhos, who served twice as Anagrapheus (member of a commission revising the laws) for periods each of several years and is attacked at Lys. 30.3 and 30.5 for failure to undergo euthunai, but in phrases which suggest that this was not in his case a legal requirement annually but only on demitting ofﬁce. But despite Lysias’ attempts to brand him as a jumped-up junior secretary (hupogrammateus, Lys. 30.28–29), it is clear that Nikomakhos’ position differed from that of a Grammateus precisely in that he had been appointed not on a yearly basis but for the duration of his task. Other reasons to doubt MacDowell’s secretarial hypothesis are discussed by Dreher (1994: 166–167), who argues that we would expect the Grammateis to be attached to the board of Generals collectively rather than to an individual within 29 For which I confess to having no alternative explanation that satisﬁes me, though I wonder if there may be some slippage in the meaning of ‘they’ during this speech, from §6 where the phrase hoi meta probably denotes ‘Ktesikles’ associates among the Generals’ but could equally mean ‘political supporters of Ktesikles holding no ofﬁcial posts’, allowing it at §11 to mean that ‘those now prosecuting me, as people with no ofﬁcial standing, never had to put the matter to euthunai’. 30 The rule that a Hupogrammateus (assistant secretary) could not serve twice under the same arkhe¯ (ofﬁcial) is stated at Lys. 30.29 (dated in 399, so probably slightly earlier than Lys. 9), but MacDowell (1994: 160 n. 15) rightly notes that it is difﬁcult to see why this principle should have applied only to Hupogrammateis rather than to other categories of secretary.

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that board,31 and that some at least of the plural verbs in the following narrative seem unavoidably to be predicated of the Generals (e.g. swearing the oath at §15) while others can perfectly easily be read in this way (e.g. claiming the right to punish and imposing the summary ﬁne at §6, where MacDowell’s interpretation creates in my view a further problem about demitting ofﬁce). For these reasons, it seems to me most sensible here to read hoi meta as referring primarily to Ktesikles’ fellow-Generals. Unlike MacDowell (1994: 158), I do not ﬁnd it impossible to imagine all ten members of the board taking joint action to lend their names to a prosecution of Polyainos even some time after their year of ofﬁce, since it is their authority as an outgoing board which he had previously insulted and is continuing to defy by non-payment; equally, however, I see no reason why the phrase need not refer simply to Ktesikles’ supporters among the board.

III. LEGAL MATTERS: SUMMARY FINES AND CONFISCATION OF PROPERTY TO MEET THEM The basis on which the Tamiai (or on MacDowell’s or Rhodes’ view the Praktores or Apodektai) took it upon themselves not to exact the ﬁne imposed on the speaker is not speciﬁed. Polyainos nowhere denies that the Generals had in principle the right to impose such a penalty, which he describes as an epibole¯ (§11, cf. cognate verb epiballo¯ at §6): that is, a ﬁne which could be imposed summarily by a public ofﬁcial without needing to refer the matter for ratiﬁcation by a law court,32 provided the sum did not exceed a fairly low limit.33 Instead, his objection is they had imposed it in circumstances where they should not have done (because although he does not deny the use of insulting language, he claims that he did not utter this in a location that made it legally punishable, §§5–6, reiterated at §§9–10); and that their failure to undergo euthunai had left him no opportunity of forcing the matter to a judicial hearing (§11). It is possible that the Tamiai/Praktores/Apodektai had allowed the matter to drop because they felt there had been some procedural irregularity: Fernández-Galiano (1953: 178) and Albini (1955: 458 n. 4), for instance, both argue precisely that they took this view because the Generals had handed the matter straight over to the Tamiai 31

We may note that the clause in the Eleusinian Mysteries law (Clinton 1980: 264 [text] with 283 [trans], lines 34–36) which allocates one of the Praktores and the secretary to assist the Basileus is clearly a very temporary measure designed to meet the special demand created by the festival. 32 He claims at §11 that his opponents could have made their decision authoritative (kurios) by means of a balloted vote (pse¯phos: i.e. in a law court), but it is not clear whether he means that they should have brought the matter before their own court as a military offence, or that they should have arranged matters in such a way that he would have been able to raise it at their euthunai. 33 Fifty drachmas in the one text where a ﬁgure is speciﬁed (IG i3, 82.25–28), though the reference here is to pretty minor ofﬁcials (the hieropoioi), and Harrison (1968–71.ii: 5) suggests that their more senior counterparts may have had a higher limit.

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rather than going to the Praktores, while Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 132) suggest that they believed the Generals should have tried to exact the ﬁne themselves. Nor is it clear whether the Tamiai/Praktores/Apodektai had the right to remit the penalty on their own authority: the lexicographer Pollux claims precisely that the Tamiai of the goddess did have such a right, but that could be an inference based on the attempt to set up a dilemma to this effect at §12.34 MacDowell’s view (1994: 162) that §7 refers not to a formal appeal hearing before the Praktores but to an informal discussion of the basis of the case is an attractive one; it does, as he points out, involve assuming that they must have accepted that there was something legally suspect about the ﬁne (perhaps because of the location in which he had uttered his remarks), since they were effectively taking upon themselves the responsibility of a ﬁnancial loss to the treasury. Ath.Pol. 52.2, written in the 330s or 320s, claims that among the duties of the Eleven (the ofﬁcials whose primary responsibility was for prisons and executions, for which cf. Lys. 10.10, 10.16 and elsewhere) was to introduce into court any cases involving land and houses conﬁscated by apographe¯ (list of property denounced for conﬁscation) and to hand over to the Po¯le¯tai (lit. ‘sellers’: ofﬁcials in charge of handling public auctions) those which were shown to be state property. This is broadly supported by an inscription of 367/6 bc,35 but three of the other four apographe¯ speeches in the corpus of Lysias speak instead of a lesserknown board of ofﬁcials known as the Sundikoi;36 the Sundikoi are the subject of an entry in Harpokration, in terms which suggest that they may have played an important rôle dealing with conﬁscated property after the democratic restoration of 403/2.37 On this basis, it is tempting to suggest that the Eleven subsequently took over this rôle from the Sundikoi, and that the latter will have presided in Lys. 9. The prosecutors are presumably some or all of the Generals (see p. 589 above). Precisely what penalty Polyainos faces if convicted is never precisely speciﬁed, though there is reason to believe that he is overstating his claims to have faced a capital charge (see §15n) and to be on trial for his citizenship because if he loses he will run away (see §21n). The most recent extended treatment of apographe¯ is that of R. G. Osborne (1985b: 44–47, with earlier refs.), who distinguishes usefully between three sets of circumstances that might give rise to such a charge: 34 Pollux 8.97: εjχον [sc. ο! ταµαι τ8 θεο'] δ& κα ξουσαν α2φειλε;ν, ε α2δκω 7π τν α2ρχ*ντων πιβληθεη. Note particularly the reference to arkhontes, in the light of arkho¯n at §6 and arkheion at §9. 35 An inscription of 367/6 bc (Langdon 1991: P.5) describes the Po¯le¯tai as selling Theosebes’ property ‘after receiving it from the Eleven’ (lines 6–8)—though taken on its own, the inscription might suggest that it was the Po¯le¯tai themselves who presided over the various judicial hearings to determine prior ownership (lines 16–35); translation in Hesperia, 10 (1941) 17–18. 36 Lys. 17.10, 18.26, and 19.32 (the latter two could refer to prior hearings, but the ﬁrst of these passages is clearly a reference to the ofﬁcials presiding at the trial). No presiding ofﬁcials are mentioned in Lys. 29, nor indeed in Lys. 9. 37 Harpok. s.v. sundikoi, citing Isaios frag. Prosecution Against Elpagoras and Demophanes (evidence for their rôle after the democratic restoration, for which cf. also the recovery of the cavalry-katastasis at Lys. 16.7), and citing also Lys. frag. sp. XXXVI Prosecution Against Dexippos (for their rôle in presiding over apographai).

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(i) cases seeking to catalogue the total estate of a man whose property is liable to conﬁscation following a judicial sentence; (ii) those where a speciﬁc sum is owed to the state, for instance because of a ﬁne (as presumably in Lys. 9) or because of failure to meet the payments resulting from the leasing of the right to collect taxes; and (iii) those claiming that the defendant has acquired property to which the state has a claim.38 R. G. Osborne himself (1985b: 54) classiﬁes Lys. 9 under the ﬁrst of these headings, but this is surely a mistake for category (ii), since the worst that ought to have happened to Polyainos would be the doubling of his ﬁne if unpaid by the ninth prytany (Andok. 1.73): as we have seen, the maximum penalty at epibole¯ seems to have been capped at a fairly low level,39 and it seems unlikely that even a doubled penalty would completely have bankrupted him, though it would obviously have been a signiﬁcant humiliation.

IV. LYS. 9 AS EVIDENCE: MILITARY CALL-UP AND INSULTS TO PUBLIC OFFICIALS As is noted at the start of this Introduction, Lys. 9 provides particularly valuable evidence for the process of military call-up and for the legal protection of public ofﬁcials against insult. The former process has been discussed in detail by several recent scholars, including Hamel (1998: 24–28) and Christ (2001), both building on a pioneering paper by Andrewes (1981). Ath.Pol. 53.7 describes a system based on the call-up of particular year-groups (he¯likiai), but it is now generally agreed that this was introduced at some stage during the fourth century—Hamel places the change before 352, while Christ argues for 386–366—and that it replaced an earlier system whereby the Generals had overall responsibility for selecting individuals for service,40 probably on a tribal basis (the verb used to denote such 38

Several of our speeches involve more than one of the three: e.g. in Lys. 19, the available property of the disgraced Aristophanes has already been catalogued under procedure (i), but his in-laws are now facing the allegation under procedure (iii) that they are seeking to pass off some of his property as their own. 39 Quite possibly as low as 50 drachmas, though see p. 589 n. 33 above. Fourth-century Po¯le¯tai inscriptions record the purchase of conﬁscated real estate valued as low as 680 drachmas (kho¯rion belonging to Nikodemos: Langdon [1991: P.26], line 530; translated in Hesperia, 5 [1936]: 404–405, at line 185) and 575 drachmas (oikia belonging to Theosebes: Langdon [1991: P.5], line 36; translation in Hesperia, 10 [1941]: 17–18), though it is not wholly clear whether the latter ﬁgure includes all the sums that it was agreed to pay to prior claimants ahead of the polis. Movable items might of course fetch a very much lower price (Pritchett’s index of prices at the ﬁrst publication of the Attic Stelai include sixty-nine items valued under 10 drachmas, forty-ﬁve valued between 10 and 100 drachmas, and thirty-nine between 100 and 6,100 drachmas), but we have no clear examples of movable property being conﬁscated in R. G. Osborne’s class (ii) cases. 40 The Taxiarkhs (commanders of tribal hoplite contingents, cf. 3.45n) seem to have played some rôle in the detailed application of the system (Aristoph. Peace, 1180–1181), and were perhaps responsible for the initial summons at §4, but it is to the General (presumably the one in charge of the call-up for his tribe) that Polyainos promptly turns for redress.

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selection is katalego¯, with the noun katalogos denoting each commander’s list of those conscripted). Such selection by katalogos was based on the principle that those liable for service should take it in turns, which seems to be reﬂected in an oath sworn presumably by the Generals to select those who had not recently undergone military service (see §15n), which may help make sense of the cryptic comparison with Kallikrates at §5.41 MacDowell (1994: 154) observes that Polyainos nowhere explicitly claims that it was for Athens that he had undertaken the recent campaign on the basis of which he claimed exemption (even a nativeborn Athenian could, like Xenophon, serve as a mercenary in foreign service), though I suspect that if this was true and became known, his case would be so indefensible as to be not worth pleading. One other oddity in this context is that Polyainos never speciﬁes whether in fact he did undertake the campaign for which he was called up. It is hard to imagine that he persisted to the extent of a ﬁnal refusal, since that would almost certainly have led to a prosecution by graphe¯ astrateias (for which cf. Lys. 14–15) for failure to undertake military service. It is in theory possible that the ﬁnal sentence of §15 might be a cryptic allusion to such a process, but on balance this seems unlikely: if convicted of this offence, Polyainos would have suffered atimia (loss of citizen rights) and would be unable to plead his current case; had he been acquitted, it seems inconceivable that he would not now take the opportunity to say so.42 The most plausible hypothesis is probably that he did after all report for duty (thus MacDowell 1994: 156), and is hoping that his opponents will not point out this weakness in his argument. An alternative possibility, originally proposed by Francken (1865: 66) on the basis of a 334/3 chronology but not in principle restricted to that dating, is that the expedition was for some reason aborted, so that the extent of Polyainos’ deﬁance was never ﬁnally tested. As far as the charge of insulting a public ofﬁcial is concerned, scholars have identiﬁed two problems. The ﬁrst of these concerns the penalty, where concerns have been expressed at an apparent conﬂict with the supposed claim in Dem. 21.32–33 that because public ofﬁcials represent the polis, verbal insults directed against them were punished by atimia (which would obviously have been a much more serious penalty than the presumably small ﬁne imposed on Polyainos).43 But although that is certainly the impression that Demosthenes is trying to create, in order to establish by extension that Meidias’ attack was directed not simply against himself as an individual but against himself as crowned Khore¯gos representing the polis, it is nevertheless striking that he produces no evidence that this level of protection against insult was applied to any public ofﬁcial other than the 41

For which see p. 585 with n. 16 above. The dilemma is well summarised by Stutzer (1881: 91); less persuasive is Stutzer’s previous argument (1879: 505), that it is necessarily in the speaker’s interests to explain whether he did or did not serve. 43 Thus Pabst (1890: 10), Lipsius (1905–15: 651 with n. 59), Albini (1955: 365), and Medda (1989–95.i: 262). Francken (1865: 66), by contrast, was worried that Dem. 21 regards the offence as being committed only when the ofﬁcial is wearing a ceremonial crown, whereas for Lys. 9 the issue is whether the insult takes place in an ofﬁcial building. 42

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593

Nine Arkhons.44 It therefore seems more likely that what we have here is two overlapping but separate pieces of legislation, one protecting the Nine Arkhons speciﬁcally when crowned, the other dealing with public ofﬁcials in general. A more persuasive argument for statutory misrepresentation has been found in the contrast with Plutarch’s statement that Solon prohibited insults to the dead under any circumstances and insults to the living if committed in certain public locations, including the ofﬁces of public ofﬁcials.45 Plutarch’s reliability as evidence for the laws of Solon is very mixed (Ruschenbusch 1966: 46–47), but it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that what we have here is a bold and deliberate attempt to confuse the jury by conﬂating one legislative statute forbidding insults committed in certain public places but directed against anybody, with another law of which we can only infer the contents, but which may well have forbidden insults directed against public ofﬁcials committed anywhere.46 One ﬁnal point to notice about the language of insult is the choice of terminology. Whereas in Lys. 8 the language of defamation focused on phrases like kako¯s lego¯ and kako¯s akouo¯ (lit. ‘I speak badly’ or ‘I am spoken of badly’, together used ﬁfteen times in that speech), in Lys. 9 we do not ﬁnd those phrases used at all, but instead a frequent use of loidoreo¯ (found ﬁve times in this speech). Loidoreo¯, together with its cognate noun loidoria, seems to have connotations of verbal insult delivered in a public context, and sometimes though not necessarily delivered face-to-face,47 reﬂected in LSJ’s choice of ‘to revile’ or ‘to rail at’. Given these connotations, it is hardly surprising that it appears only once in Lys. 8, in a context which is perhaps deliberately paradoxical (see 8.5n). What is perhaps more striking, however, is its entire absence from Lys. 10–11, which may perhaps suggest not simply that the prosecution of insults to public ofﬁcials was covered not by the dike¯ kake¯gorias but under an entirely separate procedure, but also that Athenians thought of kake¯goria as somehow juridically distinct from loidoria: this would imply a sharper distinction both in the language and in the structure of law than has sometimes been proposed.48 44

Thus rightly MacDowell (1990: 250) and Sommerstein (2004: 207 n. 11). Arkheia (Plut. Sol. 21.2), using the same word as at Lys. 9.9. 46 Thus e.g. Glotz (1899: 788–789). It is notable that one of the two summaries of the law in the speech does not specify who is the object of insult (see §9n). 47 In the corpus of Lysias, for instance, we ﬁnd it used in the following contexts: drunken quarrels (1.45 and 3.43, both part of a topos that is regularly associated with post-symposiastic street ﬁghting); a quarrel between young men at the palaistra (frag. 279 Prosecution Against Teisis, twice); a disagreement between rival Athenian commanders (Lys. 21.8); the public dissemination of rumours against the democratic credentials of one’s opponents (Lys. 30.7); and Kleophon’s evidently public criticisms of the Boule¯ of 405/4 for alleged oligarchic sympathies (Lys. 30.10). It is not obviously the case that all of these will necessarily have involved what we would think of as slanderous (as opposed to insulting) language. 48 By e.g. Halliwell (1991: 50 n. 8), discussed at p. 632 below. 45

20

ὑ.[πὲρ τ]οῦ στρατιώτου· ]κων α2π στρατ[<ε>α] Καλλικρα´τη κα µ.[ετ’ @λγον καταλ.[εγε ] α2ντ λ.[εγεν]. .π βαλλον οp[ν ζηµαν ο..! α%ρ.χ.[οντ]ε. κα . [. . . . . . . . . α2ρχ8] δ.& ξι.[ο$ση ατDν τ[ο; ταµαι κ[υραν -τι] οpσαν. [παρ δοσαν, α2λλ’ ]πειδD οκ -πει.[σαν ατο]Z δικ.[ααν κα κυραν ζ]ηµ[α]ν ατ<ι> κρι.[θ8ναι, α]θι κ[ατηγορο'σιν. 17 possis etiam µ.[ετα` τα'τα πιβολν minus prob. coll. 9.6–7 20 κ[υραν µD] ed. pr.

18 diastolen post αντ praebet Π ο[pν 19 κα ο.[κ -πραξαν· α2ρχ8] δ.& ed. pr.

9 On behalf of the Soldier Hypothesis to Lys. 9 (P.Oxy., 2537 = frag. 308 Carey, recto lines 16–22) [line 16] On Behalf of the Soldier. [17–18] On returning from military service and [after a brief interval] being called up, Kallikrates spoke against this. [18– 19] The ofﬁcials therefore summarily imposed a [ﬁne] on him and [? did not exact it]. [19–20] At the end of their [term of ofﬁce] they [handed it over] to the tamiai as being [still valid], [20–22] but when they could not persuade them that the ﬁne had been justly [and validly] imposed on him, they are a[ccusing] him again.

The Speech [1] What on earth did the opposing litigants have in mind when they ignored the point at issue and sought to defame my character? Was it because they are unaware that they are supposed to speak about the point at issue? Or do they recognise this, but (in the belief that they will escape attention) take more account of everything else than of what is appropriate? [2] I know for certain that they are delivering this speech not because they despise me but because they despise the point at issue. But I would not be surprised if they think that out of ignorance you can be persuaded by their slanders to vote to convict me. [3] I had expected, gentlemen of the jury, that I would face trial on the basis of the indictment and not of my character. However, given that the opposing litigants are defaming me, it is necessary to make my defence on the basis of everything. So ﬁrst of all, I shall tell you about the apographe¯. [4] I arrived in the polis the year before last, and had not been living here two months when I was called up as a soldier. On discovering what

596

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had happened, I immediately suspected that I had been called up for no proper reason. I went to see the General, and showed that I had served on campaign, but I did not receive any decent treatment. I was angry at being insulted, but I kept quiet. [5] Because I was uncertain what to do, I consulted one of the citizens as to how I should handle the matter. I found out that they were threatening even to imprison me, claiming that ‘Polyainos had been staying in Athens for no less time than Kallikrates’. This conversation of mine had taken place at the banking-table of Philios. [6] But the supporters of Ktesikles the ofﬁcial, when somebody told them that I was slandering them, although what the law forbids is if one insults an ofﬁcial in the sunedrion, claimed the right illegally to punish me. They imposed a summary ﬁne, but did not attempt to exact the money. Instead, at the end of the term of ofﬁce, they wrote it on a whitened board, and handed it over to the tamiai. [7] That was the action which these men took. The tamiai, on the other hand, did not in any way share their opinions, but summoned those who had handed over the document,1 and tried to discover the reason for the charge. When they heard what had happened, and were aware of the sorts of things I had suffered, they initially tried to persuade them to let me off, arguing that it was not fair for any of the citizens to be registered out of enmity. But when they could not ﬁnd any way to persuade them, they took on themselves the danger at your hands, and ruled that the ﬁne was invalid. . . .

1

But see Commentary.

598

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9. On behalf of the Soldier

599

<WITNESSES> [8] So then, you understand how I was let off by the tamiai. In my view, it would be more appropriate for me to be acquitted of the charge simply on the basis of this demonstration, but I shall produce still more laws and other justiﬁcations. Please take the law for me. LAW [9] You have heard the law, which explicitly says to ﬁne those who insult in the sunedrion. I have produced witnesses that I did not go to the arkheion; and that because I had a ﬁne imposed on me unjustly, I do not owe it, nor is it just that I should pay it off. [10] If it is clear that I did not go to the sunedrion, and the law says that those who offend within it are to owe the ﬁne, then it is clear that I have committed no offence, and that I have been punished out of enmity, without this, unreasonably. [11] They themselves admitted to themselves that they had acted illegally: for neither did they undergo euthunai, nor did they come to a dikaste¯rion and render their actions valid by means of a ballot. If these people had punished me in a proper manner, and had ratiﬁed the epibole¯ in your presence, it would have been reasonable for me to be acquitted of the charge, given that the tamiai had remitted the ﬁne. [12] If they did not have the authority to exact or to remit, being legitimately ﬁned I would properly owe the money. If however they do have the authority to let me off, and they give an account for their actions in ofﬁce, then they will readily receive the appropriate penalty if they have done anything wrong. [13] You have learned about the way in which my name was handed over and a ﬁne was imposed on me. However, you need to know not simply the reason for the indictment, but also

600

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the pretext for their hatred. Before the enmity of these men developed, I became a friend of Sostratos, because I knew that he had become somebody worth talking about in his dealings with the polis. [14] Even while on the basis of his inﬂuence I was becoming well known, I did not take vengeance on an enemy or confer beneﬁts on a friend: during his lifetime, because of my age, I took no part in public affairs; and after he had departed his life, I did not hurt any of my accusers in word or deed. I am able to give such an account that I should much more justly receive beneﬁts than suffer harm at the hands of the opposing litigants. [15] It was because of what has been mentioned that they concocted their anger, even though no excuse existed for their enmity. After swearing to call up those who had not been on campaign, they broke their oaths, and they brought my case before the people to make a decision on a capital charge. [16] They ﬁned me on the grounds that I was slandering their authority, and treated justice with contempt, while using every effort to hurt me. What would they have done with the aim of damaging me greatly and of beneﬁting themselves considerably, given that when neither of these aims was involved, they reckoned that everything was of more value than justice? [17] They despised your democracy, and did not think it right that the gods should be respected, but instead have behaved so contemptuously and illegally that they have not even attempted to defend themselves over what has happened: what is more, in the belief that they have not taken sufﬁcient vengeance on me,

602

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9. On behalf of the Soldier

603

they have at length driven me out of the polis. [18] While behaving in such a lawless and violent fashion, they have taken no trouble to keep their injustice secret. They are bringing me forward again on the same subject, and are denouncing and defaming me when I have done nothing wrong, imputing slanders which are inappropriate to my style of life, but which closely match their own habits. [19] These people are keen to get me convicted in the case on any basis, but you should not be aroused by the slanders of these men and vote to convict me, nor should you undermine the authority of those who took a better and a just decision. For these people have done everything in a lawful and reasonable fashion: they are seen not to have committed any offences, but have had the greatest respect for justice. [20] Because these men are behaving unjustly, I was reasonably annoyed, in the belief that life was organised on a principle of hurting one’s enemies and beneﬁting one’s friends. I should be far more grieved, however, if I were to be deprived of justice at your hands, because I shall be seen as having suffered this evil not because of enmity but because of some wickedness in the polis. [21] I am on trial nominally over this apographe¯, but in reality over my citizenship. If I obtain justice—and I am trusting in your verdict—I would remain in the polis. If, however, I were to be unjustly convicted after being brought before you by these people, I should run away. For what hope would there be to encourage me to share in the citizenship? Or what would have to be my aim, given that I would know the cunning of the opposing litigants, and would be unable to discover how I should achieve any of my rights? [22] You should therefore pay the greatest attention to justice, and bear in mind that you forgive even the most blatant offences: do not look on while those who have done no wrong are unjustly ensnared in the greatest misfortunes as a result of enmity.

Lysias 9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary P.Oxy. 2537 Hypothesis The papyrus is discussed at pp. 545–546 above. For illustrative purposes I have included in my translation the restorations noted in Carey’s apparatus (Lys. frag. 308), using square brackets as an attempt loosely to indicate the scale of these and other conjectures. Line 17: Καλλικράτης (‘Kallikrates’). Scholars generally accept that this is a misreading, and should be Polyainos: see §5n. Line 19: ο..ἱ αρ.χ.[οντ]ε.ς (‘the ofﬁcials’). For the use of arkho¯n in this speech apparently to mean strate¯gos (General), see §6n. Line 21: ἐ]πειδὴ οὐκ ἔπει.[σαν αὐτο]ύς (‘when they could not persuade them’). Given that there is no marked change of subject, we should assume that the arkhontes are the subject of this statement and the Tamiai the object: admittedly this assumption may have inﬂuenced the various restorations, but it is hard to think of alternatives that would ﬁt the available space e.g. for kri[the¯nai] (‘had been imposed’, lit. ‘convicted’, line 22) or k[ate¯gorousi ] (‘they are accusing’, cf. following note) so as to allow the sentence to be taken the other way. In the speech, by contrast, the emphasis is on the efforts of the Tamiai to persuade the Generals to withdraw the ﬁne (§7). Line 22: α]ὖθις κ[ατηγοροῦσι(‘they are accusing him again’). Polyainos’ opponents are certainly described as ‘accusers’ in the context of the present trial (kate¯goreo¯, §14), though authis (‘again’) is perhaps a slightly loose usage given that their previous dealings with him are described in the language of summary ﬁne (ze¯mioo¯, epiballo¯, §6) rather than judicial accusation. Given MacDowell’s suggestion that the prosecution was brought by secretarial staff (for which see pp. 587–589 above), however, it is worth noting that the author of the hypothesis seems to have assumed that it was the arkhontes themselves who were currently prosecuting him.

§§1–3: Proem The speech begins with a lively attack on the prosecution, but one which is rather abruptly introduced. It is notable for instance that this is one of very few extant forensic speeches to begin without a vocative address to the court, as if in this case Polyainos is too indignant to worry about such niceties.1 1 The only other complete forensic speech in the corpus of Lysias to lack an opening vocative is Lys. 20, which again is of suspect authorship, though it is hard to see how the opening of Lys. frag.

9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary §1

605

§1. οἱ ἀντίδικοι (‘the opposing litigants’). As noted at 7.13n, antidikoi can denote rival litigants in a case in which the speaker is not involved, but more commonly signiﬁes the speaker’s opponents, whether these are the defendants or (as here) the prosecutors. τοῦ µὲν πράγµατος παρηµελήκασι (‘they ignored the point at issue’). Most of what we hear by way of legal restrictions on irrelevance in Athenian law courts relates to the Areiopagos, but there is some evidence for a relevance rule in other courts also (Ath.Pol. 67.1, discussed at p. 282 n. 29 above). It is, however, difﬁcult to see how such regulations could have been implemented in any Athenian trial,2 given the absence of a presiding ofﬁcer with the authority to rule speakers out of order; Hyp. Euxen. §31, in the context of eisangelia, seems to assume that the worst that could be expected was awkward questions shouted out by the jury. Certainly in our speeches it is notable that reminders of the rules against irrelevance serve primarily as ways for speakers to seize the moral high ground. In the course of a survey arguing that Athenian Orators stick to the point rather more than has generally been acknowledged, Rhodes points out that the defendant’s speech here is in fact less wide-ranging than his opening remarks might imply (Rhodes 2004: 141, noting the ‘everything’ at §3). Lanni (2005, with more detail at 2006: 96–105 and 167–179), by contrast, differentiates between homicide and maritime cases in which the exclusion of social context might be regarded as potentially desirable, and other areas of law in which low criteria of relevance were a function of the amateur nature of Athenian justice. τὸν δὲ τρόπον µου ἐπεχείρησαν διαβάλλειν (‘sought to defame my character’), or ‘way of life’ (tropos). Since this is a case arising out of Polyainos’ alleged defamation of public ofﬁcials, the repeated claim that by bringing charges, the opponents are in some way slandering him (diaballein here, diabolo¯n §2, diaballanto¯n §3) is presumably an attempt to turn the tables: for another and perhaps more successful attempt, cf. §4n. περὶ παντὸς πλείω λόγον ἢ τοῦ προσήκοντος ποιοῦνται (‘take more account of everything than of what is appropriate’), i.e. pay more attention to irrelevant matters (cf. last note but one), reading logon poieisthai as ‘to place a (high) value on’ (as in Dem. 6.8, Dein. 3.10), or possibly ‘to take account of’ (as in Hyp. Euxen. §31). The link with pl. logous (speeches) in the ﬁrst sentence of §2 cannot easily be captured in English, nor can the extensive use of alliteration.

sp. LXV Theomnestos would have had room for a vocative. Isokrates seems to be the only one of the Ten Orators routinely to omit the opening vocative (it is missing from four of his six extant forensic speeches: Isok. 16, 18, 20, 21), but it is omitted also occasionally by other orators (Isai. 11; Dem. 28; Dein. 3). 2 Like MacDowell (1963: 43), I doubt the claim in Lucian (Anakharsis, §19) that a speaker breaking the rule against irrelevance in the Areiopagos would be stopped by the herald, which reads like post-Classical nostalgia.

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§2. οὐκ ἐµοῦ καταϕρονήσαντες ἀλλὰ τοῦ πράγµατος (‘not because they despise me but because they despise the point at issue’). Kataphroneo¯ can have positive connotations—the attitude displayed by the Athenians at Lys. 2.50 is one of proper contempt towards their Corinthian adversaries—but it is much more common in the Orators to ﬁnd it used of a transgressive contempt displayed by the speaker’s opponents towards core Athenian institutions such as the jury, the laws, and the gods (all three at Dem. 59.44, selections at Lys. 6.11 [gods], Aiskhin. 1.114 [jury], and esp. Isok. 20.10, Dem. 56.10, Dem. 59.77 [laws]). For contempt being displayed towards the pragma (point at issue, cf. last note but two), the nearest parallel is Hyp. Demosth. col. 12, where the defendant’s allegedly frivolous response to the charge is taken to indicate his much more serious contempt of the jury and the laws. To complain that the opponent has displayed contempt towards the speaker is less common,3 except in cases where the latter can in some sense be presented as the agent of the polis (e.g. Dem. 30.8, where Demosthenes is trying to carry out the verdict of a previous court): hence the care taken here (as at Dem. 34.36 and 50.57, even though Apollodoros had been Trierarkh on the latter occasion) to emphasise that the speaker is not the primary focus of the opponent’s contempt. οὐκ αν θαυµάσαιµι (‘I would not be surprised’). Thus the manuscript reading, accepted by Gernet & Bizos and now by Carey: the point would be that the speaker’s opponents have displayed such disgracefully smug self-conﬁdence that they are expecting to get him convicted despite the weakness of their case. To attribute ignorance to one’s audience is dangerous, however, and although the speaker makes at least some attempt to mitigate the danger by attributing these sentiments to the opposition, there is the risk that the jury might not spot the subtlety of this. So I am tempted with the majority of editors to accept Markland’s conjecture (το'τ2, i.e. ‘ this’, for οκ ‘not’): the point would then be that despite his opponents’ disgraceful self-conﬁdence, he cannot see even them really believing they will get a conviction. §3. περὶ τοῦ ἐγκλήµατος, οὐ περὶ τοῦ τρόπου (‘on the basis of the indictment and not of my character’). For tropos, see last note but three. Lipsius (1905–15: 817 with n. 48) argued that enkle¯ma in its strict sense denoted the indictment speciﬁcally in private prosecutions. This passage, however, would seem to suggest a readiness to use the term more loosely, since the present case was an apographe¯ (see next note but two), which was necessarily a public prosecution in that there was no aggrieved party to whom the right of prosecution could have been restricted. The speaker could in theory be referring to the ﬁne previously imposed by the Generals: it is not clear whether epibole¯ (for which see p. 589 above) would have been thought of as a form of prosecution rather than a disciplinary act, but

3

Lys. 3.20n is something of a maverick example here, because the connotations are not entirely negative.

9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary §§3–4

607

since the Generals’ justiﬁcation will have been that they were at the time representing the polis, it can hardly be envisaged as a private prosecution. τὸν ἀγῶνά µοι προκεῖσθαι (‘that I would face trial’), lit. ‘that the ago¯n would be set before me’. There is something of a play on words here, in that ago¯n (despite its regular use in the Orators in the sense of ‘law-court trial’, cf. 1.48n) retains some sense of its broader meaning of ‘athletic contest’, while prokeimai is among other things the standard verb used to describe the offer of a competitive prize. διαβαλλόντων δέ µε τῶν ἀντιδίκων (‘given that the opposing litigants are defaming me’). For antidikoi and diaballo¯, see §1nn. τῆς ἀπογραϕῆς (‘the apographe¯’). The procedure in the current case, involving a written list of property denounced for conﬁscation: see further pp. 590–591 above.

§§4–7: Narrative This is fairly brief, but sets out the background to his quarrel with the Generals (§4), the circumstances under which the ﬁne had been imposed (§§5–6), and his claim that the relevant ﬁnancial ofﬁcials had subsequently refused to accept its legitimacy (§7). §4. ἀϕικόµενος προπέρυσιν εἰς τὴν πόλιν (‘I arrived in the polis the year before last’). He does not explicitly say that this arrival immediately followed the end of his previous campaign, though this is presumably what he wants us to infer from the next-but-one sentence. English would perhaps more naturally say ‘arrived back’, but the translation here is intended not to prejudice MacDowell’s theory (with which I do not agree, but for other reasons, cf. p. 586 above) that Polyainos the speaker is a newly enfranchised citizen who has only recently come to live in Athens. Properusin (‘the year before last’), as is noted by MacDowell (1994: 153), is a plausible though not absolutely conclusive emendation proposed by Reiske (1770–75.v: 319 n. 8) to replace the manuscript proteron (‘previously’). Perusin (‘last year’) would perhaps be logically slightly easier, given that his altercation appears to have been with last year’s Generals, but is palaeographically more difﬁcult.4 Since there was a two-month gap between arrival and altercation, it is conceivable on Reiske’s reading that his return occurred just before the end of the ofﬁcial year in mid-summer and his call-up under the following year’s set of Generals; this, however, would mean that the Generals in question had nearly a full year to exact the ﬁne, and we might have expected him to have made some capital out of such dilatoriness. κατελέγην στρατιώτης (‘I was called up as a soldier’). For the process of call-up 4 Προπ ρυσι(ν) is a much rarer word, occurring only 23 times in a full-corpus TLG word-search conducted on 25 June 2005, in contrast with 364 instances of π ρυσι(ν), and is therefore a more likely candidate for textual corruption on the difﬁcilior lectio principle; it also has three initial letters in common with πρ*τερον.

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(at this date evidently on the basis of lists made up by commanders, rather than the later system based on the call-up of year-groups), see p. 591 above. ἐπὶ µηδενὶ ὑγιεῖ (‘for no proper reason’), lit. ‘on no healthy basis’. The use of health as a metaphor for the quality of political leadership is a particular favourite of Demosthenes (nine instances in Dem. 18–19, and picked up by opponents at Aiskhin. 3.225, and at Dein. 1.48 and 1.94), but the metaphor of a community as a body which needs to be in good health is familiar already in the Greek envoys’ speech to Gelon of Syracuse in Hdt. 7.157.2. προσελθὼν οὖν τῷ στρατηγῷ (‘I went to see the General’). The use of the singular is notable. It is unlikely that he means the General who was a member of his own phyle¯ (tribe), since although the Athenian hoplite army was tribally organised, and although the reason for having ten Generals was that there were ten tribes, nevertheless it is the Taxiarkhs who seem to have operated as tribal commanders of hoplites (as at 3.45n), while the Generals were normally sent out either individually or in groups (e.g. three in the case of the Sicilian Expedition), in command of troops which seem to have been drawn from all ten tribes. Presumably therefore he means either one of the Generals who has been assigned to an individual command, or perhaps one to whom his colleagues have delegated the responsibility for this particular call-up. ἐδήλωσα ὅτι ἐστρατευµένος εἴην (‘and showed that I had served on campaign’). The perfect stem is used of completed campaigns, as at Lys. 10.25, Isai. 5.46, Dem. 21.95, etc. MacDowell’s suggestion that Polyainos’ previous military service might have been undertaken as a mercenary rather than for Athens is discussed at p. 592 above. It is notable also that he does not here formally rule out the possibility that his last military service had taken place well before his return to Athens, but this too may be the result of verbal clumsiness rather than deviousness. ἔτυχον δὲ οὐδενὸς τῶν µετρίων (‘but I did not receive any decent treatment’). For metrios (lit. ‘moderate’) denoting what can be justly and reasonably expected, see Lys. frag. 101a; Dem. 37.3; 38.2. For the use of metrio¯s in this speech, see §20n. προπηλακιζόµενος δὲ ἠγανάκτουν µέν, ἡσυχίαν δ̓ εἶχον (‘I was angry at being insulted, but I kept quiet’). Perhaps a more successful—because less obvious— attempt to throw back the language of insult at his opponents than in the proem (details at §1n). §5. συµβουλευόµενός τινι τῶν πολιτῶν τί χρήσωµαι τῷ πράγµατι (‘I consulted one of the citizens as to how I should handle the matter’). Sumbouleuo¯ tends in the Orators to be used in the active, often of political leaders ‘giving counsel’: there is however a parallel to the middle use here at Dem. 54.1. The implications of the phrase ‘one of the citizens’ are discussed at p. 586 above. ἐπυθόµην ὡς καὶ δήσειν µε ἀπειλοῖεν (‘I found out that they were threatening even to imprison me’). For MacDowell’s view of the signiﬁcance of the plural here, see

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p. 587 above. Discussions of the disciplinary powers of Athenian Generals have usually taken as their starting-point the statement in Ath.Pol. 62.1, that κ$ριοι δ εσιν 9ταν Gγνται κα δ8σαι τ ν α2τακτο'ντα κα <κ>κ[η]ρ'ξαι κα πιβολDν πιβα´λλειν· οκ ε=θασι δ& πιβα´λλειν (‘[the Generals] have the authority while in command to imprison one who is undisciplined, to proclaim him by herald, or to impose summary ﬁnes, but they do not normally impose the latter’),5 and have tended to focus on the implications of increasing leniency, including for instance the claim that the summary imposition at least by the Generals of an epibole¯ (as in the present case, cf. §6n) had become less common by the time of the Ath.Pol. (330s–320s bc). We have evidence to support the existence of some at least of these powers while on campaign: Apollodoros for instance asserts that as a Trierarkh c.360 he had real fears that Timomakhos as General might imprison him for refusing to obey an order which he claims was illegal, though it is not impossible that he is trying to represent the penalty as illegal also (Dem. 50.51).6 Whether such powers applied at any date to commanders at Athens may perhaps be questioned, given that hotan he¯go¯ntai (‘while in command’, lit. ‘when they are leading’) in the Ath.Pol. passage quoted above is most naturally read as denoting their powers in the ﬁeld, though MacDowell (1994: 156) argues that the etymology of ataktounta (‘undisciplined’, lit. ‘not drawn up in order’) might imply powers also over those who refused to serve. But it may be in Polyainos’ interests to exaggerate the threat that faced him, just as he later perhaps exaggerates the consequences of conviction (§20n). λέγοντες ὅτι οὐδὲν ἐλάττω χρόνον Καλλικράτους Πολύαινος ἐνδηµοίη (‘claiming that “Polyainos had been staying in Athens for no less time than Kallikrates” ’). The implication of the rather awkwardly phrased double negative is that Polyainos has been in Athens for a longer period and Kallikrates (otherwise unknown) therefore for a shorter period, presumably dated from when each returned from his most recent campaign. Since the comparison made by the Generals is evidently intended to disadvantage Polyainos, it is generally accepted that it is the latter who is our speaker. Reiske’s suggestion that Kallikrates could be the name of the Taxiarkh in command of the hoplites from Polyainos’ tribe (Reiske 1770–75.v: 320 n. 12) has not won favour, primarily because it is unclear 5 Discussions include Pritchett (1971–91.ii: 232–245), Rhodes (1981: 683–4), Fernández Nieto (1990), Hamel (1998: 59–63), and Van Wees (2004: 108–112). For ekke¯ruxis (exclusion by herald’s proclamation: evidently a form of dishonourable discharge), and the question of whether this led to further penalties, see Lys. 3.4n. 6 Evidence for the right of summary execution by Athenian Generals at an earlier period is perhaps less wide-ranging in its implications than is sometimes assumed: the sleeping sentry killed by Iphikrates in Frontinus, Strateg. 3.12.2, was a mercenary, and Iphikrates himself (as is rightly noted by Rhodes 1981: 683–684) may not have been serving as an Athenian General at the time; part of the point behind the account at Lys. 13.67 of Lamakhos’ having executed one of Agoratos’ brothers by apotumpanismos for signalling to the enemy may have been to represent him as having died a slave’s death rather than that appropriate for a citizen (thus Todd 2000b: 44–45); and although Alkibiades’ threat to execute naval deserters crossing the strait (Xen. Hell. 1.1.15) applies in theory to everybody, it is presumably non-citizens who are envisaged as likely to desert to the Spartan ﬂeet.

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how such a comparison would be to Polyainos’ detriment, and the majority of scholars have therefore inferred that Kallikrates needs to be somebody in a parallel position to Polyainos, and therefore presumably an otherwise unknown conscript (the name is a common one, cf. p. 585 n. 18 above) who had not attempted to cite the same excuse as the speaker. κἀµοὶ µὲν τὰ προειρηµένα διείλεκτο (‘this conversation of mine had taken place’). Several scholars have objected that no detailed account of a previous conversation has been offered (thus Jebb 1893 [1876].i: 228, who regards this as evidence of mutilation; Shuckburgh 1892 [1882]: 213; Fernández-Galiano 1953: 183 n. 2), but this seems a bit captious, since it is hard to see how he could have consulted one of the citizens without some form of conversation being held. Perhaps more signiﬁcant is the linguistic point also raised by Shuckburgh, that we would expect dialegomai, which in other passages is middle rather than passive, to be used personally rather than impersonally; but he acknowledges that the addition of tis (‘<somebody> had conversed with me’) would be palaeographically simple. ἐπὶ τῇ Φιλίου τραπέζῃ (‘at the banking-table of Philios’). It is generally accepted that trapeza (lit. ‘table’) here denotes the table at which a banker sits for the conduct of business, not least on the grounds that this is already an established meaning in Andok. 1.130 (c.400 bc) and Isok. 17.2 (c.393). This view has admittedly been questioned by Kapsomenos (1950), who argued that a private location is needed to serve as a contrast with the public context of the sunedrion (see next note but two), suggested that philios here was not the personal name of an otherwise unattested banker but instead a cult-title of Zeus (as overseer of friendship, parallel to the better-attested Zeus Xenios in charge of hospitality to outsiders), and concluded on this basis that Polyainos is complaining that his words were uttered in what should have been the privileged context of the symposion. But this, as Ek (1950) objected, is rather a far-fetched reading, not least because all that the argument requires by way of contrast with the sunedrion is a non-ofﬁcial rather than a private location; to which one might add that although the title Zeus Philios is attested in contemporary Athenian texts (refs. in LSJ s.v. philios I.2), it is not otherwise found in connection with trapeza. The world of the Orators is one in which legitimate locations for private conversation are generally deﬁned in terms of retail trade rather than e.g. taverns, presumably because the latter are less respectable: thus an unsociable man can be described as one who does not frequent ‘barbers’, perfumers’ or other ergaste¯ria [workshops]’ (Dem. 25.52); and it can be assumed that each of the jury will have his own favourite shop to visit for gossip, including speciﬁcally the perfumer’s, barber’s or shoemaker’s (Lys. 24.19–20).7 The use of banks for such purposes is not to my 7 Other less speciﬁc refs. include Isok. 18.9 (ergaste¯ria [above] as a place where one might sit to test support for projected litigation), and two particularly interesting suggestions in Lys. 23.3 and 23.6: ﬁrst that the barber’s by the street of the Herms was frequented by the members of the deme Dekeleia—the verb prosphoitao¯ occurs both in the Lysias passage and also in lines 63–64 of the

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knowledge attested elsewhere in the Orators, despite the frequent mention of banks in the Apollodoran corpus, but two Platonic dialogues refer to banks as locations at which sophists might engage in philosophical discussion (Hippias in Hippias Minor, 368b4–5; Sokrates himself in Apology, 17c8–9): Bogaert (1968: 375 with n. 414), noting that both these passages are set in the Agora, suggests that this alongside Peiraieus was the preferred location for banks at this period, which would help explain why Polyainos’ remarks were unlikely to remain conﬁdential. §6. οἱ δὲ µετὰ Κτησικλέους τοῦ αρχοντος (‘the supporters of [lit. “those with”] Ktesikles the ofﬁcial’). For the acceptance by more recent scholars that arkho¯n in this speech denotes any ofﬁcial rather than the eponymous Arkhon, and the consequent identiﬁcation of Ktesikles’ ofﬁce here as the Generalship, see p. 583 above. MacDowell’s reading of hoi de as a pronominal deﬁnite article denoting the secretarial staff assisting Ktesikles in his ofﬁcial post is discussed at pp. 587– 589 with n. 29 above, together with the possibility that we may be seeing a slippage in the use of the third person plural from ‘Ktesikles’ supporters among the Generals’ to ‘political supporters of Ktesikles holding no ofﬁcial posts’. τοῦ νόµου ἀπαγορεύοντος (‘the law forbids’). Apagoreuo¯ (to forbid) in its frequent conjunctions with nomos (law) tends overwhelmingly as here to be used in the sense of a positive prohibition: for an exceptional use to deny such a prohibition, see 10.6n; the phrase nomos agoreuei (‘the law orders’) is considerably less common, but is found twice at 9.9–10 (see 9.9n). A possibly signiﬁcant difference in wording between what is said here and the version evidently of the same law at §9, which may support the suggestion that the speaker is misleadingly conﬂating a law prohibiting insults in speciﬁed locations against anybody with one prohibiting insults against public ofﬁcials but not restricted by location, is discussed at p. 593 above. ἐάν τις ἀρχὴν ἐν συνεδρίῳ λοιδορῇ (‘if one insults an ofﬁcial in the sunedrion’). Sunedrion (lit. ‘a session’ or ‘a sitting together’) is found mainly in the later Orators, where it tends to be used of bodies which can in some sense be described as a ‘council’ (e.g. the allies of the Second Confederacy at Aiskhin. 2.70,8 or the Amphiktyonic Council at Dem. 18.155 and at Aiskhin. 3.115), but it can also be used of the Council of the Areiopagos sitting as a court (Aiskhin. 1.92, Lyk. 1.12, and perhaps Dein. 1.9, etc.). Lamb (1930: 187), presumably on this basis, so-called Demotionidai inscription [Rhodes & Osborne 2003, no. 5], where it is used of the ‘house of the Dekeleieis’ (there is dispute over whether this is a phratry or a sub-phratry group), and Lambert (1998 [1993]: 116) plausibly suggests that ‘it sounds as if this place was used by Dekeleieis in both senses and that one might go there to ﬁnd out about House business and about deme members’—and second, that the Plataian expatriate community at Athens (for which see pp. 279–281 above) hold what may be more formal meetings (the verb is sullegomai) on the last day of each month at the freshcheese stalls. 8 The cognate term sunedroi is attested epigraphically in the Charter of the Second Confederacy (Rhodes & Osborne 2003, no. 22, lines 43–44), which suggests that sunedrion could have been used to denote the council of the allies as early as its formation in 378/7.

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translates the present passage as banning insults against an ofﬁcial delivered during the session of a law court under his presidency, but there are no clear parallels for sunedrion being used to denote a body that was purely judicial and in no sense deliberative.9 More plausible is the suggestion of MacDowell (1994: 156), that sunedrion denotes the building where the ofﬁcial sits to perform his functions, not least because the word certainly is used in its reappearance at §10 in terms which seem to envisage it as a place to which one might or might not go. I wonder, however, whether the law may be using the word in a more abstract sense to denote ‘while in session’ (i.e. while performing ofﬁcial functions), for which physical location would be a relevant but not the only criterion.10 ζηµιῶσαι ἠξίωσαν (‘claimed the right . . . to punish’). The normal meaning of ze¯mioo¯ (lit., ‘to cause loss or damage’) is ‘to ﬁne’ (LSJ s.v. II), which is in fact what he is referring to here; my use of the translation ‘punish’ is an attempt to maintain a distinction between ze¯mia (penalty, normally ﬁnancial, imposed by a court) and epibole¯ (ﬁnancial penalty imposed by a public ofﬁcial, here translated ‘summary ﬁne’). Evidence for the summary jurisdiction of Athenian Generals in disciplinary matters is discussed at §5n, where it is noted that our key passage (Ath.Pol. 62.1) may relate to their powers while on campaign. ἐπιβαλόντες (‘imposed a summary ﬁne’). For the relatively low limits up to which Athenian ofﬁcials could impose epibolai without reference to a court, see p. 589 n. 33 above. τὸ ἀργύριον πράξασθαι οὐκ ἐπεχείρησαν (‘did not attempt to exact the money’). It is by no means clear that such behaviour on their part is as suspicious as Polyainos wishes us to believe. Admittedly private individuals were expected to take the initiative in enforcing the payment of compensation allocated to them by a court, but the law quoted at Dem. 43.71 (for which see p. 587 above) anticipates that the presiding ofﬁcial of a court which has imposed a ﬁne payable to the state will simply report the ﬁne to the relevant ﬁnancial ofﬁcials (in this case the Praktores or ‘exacters’): whether this system applied also to epibolai cannot be proved but is not intrinsically unlikely. ἐξιούσης . . . τῆς ἀρχῆς (‘at the end of the term of ofﬁce’). This would seem to create difﬁculties for MacDowell’s secretarial hypothesis (on which see pp. 587– 589 above). The natural reading of the genitive absolute here is that it relates to the term of ofﬁce of the subject of the sentence, which in MacDowell’s view is the 9 The ‘sunedrion of the Thesmothetai’, at Hyp. Euxen. §6, appears to denote the six of them sitting as a board (thus Whitehead 2000: 185), rather than to the court over which they preside, because the parallels drawn are with the Arkhon and the Eleven rather than with their courts. 10 When Theogenes as Basileus repudiated Stephanos ‘from the sunedrion’ (Dem. 59.83), this was presumably not just expulsion from the building but from his status as Paredros (nominated ofﬁcial adviser ‘sitting beside’ one of the Nine Arkhons). That a distinction between location and function was at least conceivable is suggested by Dem. 21.33, where insults to the Arkhon are liable to atimia if he is wearing a garland (and cf. Dem.’s more tendentious claim that it is because the punch took place while he was performing his duties as Khore¯gos that Meidias’ action should be classed as hubris).

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secretaries rather than the Generals. Pending the production of parallels, however, I remain unconvinced that arkhe¯ could be used to describe a secretary’s term of ofﬁce; and it seems unlikely that the phrase lemmatised here would be applied to a group of secretaries who on MacDowell’s view have been reappointed for a further year (this being his explanation of why ‘they’ did not undergo euthunai, §11). The alternative would be to read it as meaning ‘at the end of the term of ofﬁce of the Generals under whom the secretaries who are putatively the subject of the sentence are serving’, but this seems improbably convoluted. λεύκωµα (‘whitened board’). For the use of charcoal on whitewashed wooden boards for the keeping of public records that were intended to be temporary, see Davies (1994: esp. 205–206), who notes the selective nature of the decision to transfer certain categories of information into the types of epigraphic record that are for us permanent.11 See also Sickinger (1999: e.g. 68–70 and 147–148), who to my mind perhaps over-estimates the ease of continuing storage and consultation. τοῖς ταµίαις παρέδοσαν (‘handed it over to the tamiai’), i.e. the epibole¯ (see last note but three), or more literally the leuko¯ma recording it (for which see preceding note). For MacDowell’s suggestion that Tamiai here is a loose description of the Praktores (or in Rhodes’ view the Apodektai), see p. 587 with n. 25 above. An alternative suggestion, proposed by Albini (1955: 458 n. 4), is that handing the matter to the Tamiai instead of the Praktores was itself a procedural ﬂaw on the part of the Generals, but we might in such a case have expected Polyainos to make more of the error. §7. ἀνακαλεσάµενοι (‘summoned’). Following a generally accepted emendation of the text (see following note), earlier scholars argued that it was unlikely that the Tamiai (or Praktores/Apodektai) could have summoned the Generals, on the grounds that the latter were hypothetically senior to them in rank (thus Francken 1865: 66 and Pabst 1890: 22). Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 214), while noting that the events described here took place after the end of the Generals’ year of ofﬁce by which time they will presumably have been private citizens, attempted also to resolve this problem by regarding it as an informal ‘call for information’ without ‘imply[ing] necessarily a summons of personal attendance’. But it is hard to see how this verb could be used without there being some sort of meeting, which is certainly what is envisaged at Aiskhin. 2.17 (middle, as here), where Demokrates persuades the Boule¯ to summon Aristodemos.12 There is perhaps a danger here of 11 The term leuko¯ma (lit. ‘white thing’) is rare in the Orators, but it is attested in this sense at Dem. 25.24, with leleuko¯menon grammateion (‘whitened writing-board’) occurring at Dem. 46.11; more common is sanis (wooden tablet) or its diminutive sanidion, as at Lys. 26.10 and Lys. 16.6 respectively. The range of terms used for such purposes in other literary and epigraphic texts is discussed by Rhodes (2001.i: 33–36). 12 Carey (2004a: 141), discussing Lys. frag. 27 col. i lines 12–13 Antiphon’s Daughter (middle), where its meaning is contested, argues that anakaleo¯ denotes the summoning of individuals or small groups into one’s presence rather than the convening of a larger meeting, but it is used at Dem. 57.8 (active) to describe Euboulides’ summoning a meeting of the best part of a hundred de¯motai.

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importing assumptions derived from the Roman cursus honorum—certainly the Euthunoi or the Logistai, who between them presided over the audit at the end of every ofﬁcial’s term of ofﬁce, must have had the right to summon even the most senior of those demitting ofﬁce—but MacDowell’s idea of an informal meeting rather than a formal hearing (as noted at p. 590 above) has certain attractions. τοὺς παραδόντας [καὶ] τὴν γραϕήν (‘those who had handed over the document’). Thus the majority of scholars, including Carey’s OCT (similarly Thalheim, Hude, Gernet & Bizos, and Fernández-Galiano), following emendations proposed by Reiske 1770–75.v: 323 n. 22 with 1770–75.vi: 680 n. 323):13 if accepted, the reference is clearly to the Generals. The manuscript reading is τοZ παρ*ντα κα τDν γραφν (‘those who were present and the document’): if retained, as it is by e.g. MacDowell (1994: 162), this would focus instead on the eyewitnesses of the original altercation, which might well include the one of the Generals to whom Polyainos had originally made his complaint at §4, but might also involve whoever had informed the Generals about the conversation in the bank (§5). It is however more difﬁcult to see how the Tamiai or Praktores or Apodektai would have known whom to summon under the latter heading, and perhaps more signiﬁcantly how ‘those present’ would have been the people who needed to be persuaded to let him off (see next-but-one note). ἐσκοποῦντο τῆς αἰτίας τὴν πρόϕασιν (‘tried to discover the reason for the charge’). Since prophasis denotes a reason which may be true but may also be false,14 there may here be overtones of ‘pretext’, as there certainly are at 8.14–16. (For another use of prophasis in the corpus, see 6.19n). τὸ µὲν πρῶτον ἔπειθον αὐτοὺς ἀϕεῖναι (‘initially tried to persuade them to let me off’). For the contrast with P.Oxy. 2537 hypothesis line 21, see above. ἀναγράϕεσθαι (‘to be registered’). The use of anagrapho¯ to denote the recording of the names of public debtors is not normal in the Orators, but is attested at Ath.Pol. 47.2–3 (temporary record on whitened boards), and also in two inscriptions referring to records of private religious associations which are to be recorded on ste¯lai: IG ii2 1361.14–15 (decree of orgeo¯nes of Bendis, second half of 4th cent. bc), and SEG, 21 [1965], 530.5–7 (decree of orgeo¯nes of the hero Ekhelos, early 3rd century bc). In the Orators, by contrast, it typically denotes the writing of a text in permanent form: pre-eminently these are the texts of laws (repeatedly at Andok. 1.82–84 and at Lys. 30.19–21); if used of individuals, then it is common to specify that these are the names of traitors (prodotai) or those 13 Reiske also suggested apographe¯n (i.e. the written denunciation which has led to the present trial) for graphe¯n (lit. ‘writing’), which is superﬁcially tempting, and would certainly be technically accurate if the latter is read as referring to a public prosecution, but the events recounted here took place at a stage before the apographe¯ was initiated, and graphe¯ would make reasonable sense if read as a reference to the leuko¯ma or wooden board (§6) recording the imposition of the ﬁne (thus e.g. Shuckburgh 1892 [1882]: 214). 14 As most famously in Thuc. 1.23.5–6 (the analysis of the causes of the Peloponnesian War), as interpreted by Ste Croix (1972: 52–58, esp. at p. 56).

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accursed (alite¯rioi) being written up on a stone ste¯le¯ (Andok. 1.51; Isok. 16.9; Lyk. 1.117–118), though it can be used in more positive senses also (newly naturalised citizens, Dem. 59.105; benefactors, without mention of a ste¯le¯ though this can be inferred from normal honoriﬁc practice, Lys. 20.19). τὸν παῤ ὑµῶν κίνδυνον ὑποστάντες (‘took on themselves the danger at your hands’). The danger presumably being that they would themselves be liable for the loss to the treasury, if it were subsequently decided e.g. at their euthunai that the ﬁne had been legitimately imposed. <ΜΑΡΤΥΡΕΣ > (‘<WITNESSES>’). It is generally accepted that the testimony of witnesses must have been cited somewhere towards the end of the narrative, presumably with some sort of introductory formula, because of the claim at §9 to have produced them.

§§8–18: Proofs This section of the speech is divided in roughly equal proportions into arguments that the ﬁne was legally invalid because imposed ultra vires (§§8–12), and attacks on the allegedly improper motives of the speaker’s opponents (§§13–18), though the latter is already hinted at in §10n.

Legal arguments about the ﬁne (§§8–12) §8. ἀπηλλάχθαι τοῦ ἐγκλήµατος (‘to be acquitted of the charge’). For enkle¯ma, see §3n. δικαιώσεις (‘justiﬁcations’). Harpokration’s citation of dikaio¯sis (the only certain independent testimonium for this speech) is discussed at p. 582 above. §9. τοῦ µὲν νόµου διαρρήδην ἀγορεύοντος (‘the law . . . explicitly says’). The conjunction of nomos with agoreuo¯ is found only ﬁve times in the Orators (contrast the nineteen occurrences of nomos with apagoreuo¯ ‘the law prohibits’, discussed at §6n), perhaps because agoreuo¯ can denote simple ‘speech’ rather than authoritative ‘proclamation’, but two of the ﬁve occur here and at §10. τοὺς ἐν τῷ συνεδρίῳ λοιδοροῦντας ζηµιοῦν (‘to ﬁne those who insult in the sunedrion’). At ﬁrst sight, the summary of the law which has just been read out corresponds closely to the version given at §6, but it is notable that there is here no explicit statement that the person being insulted is the ofﬁcial himself (contrast §6, where the object of loidore¯i is arkhe¯n). This may suggest that there was no such statement in the law that had just been read out. If so, it is tempting to infer that arkhe¯n at §6 is a deliberate intrusion, designed to condition the jury’s assumption about the nature of the law that they hear for the ﬁrst time at §8, in such a way that they do not spot the putatively misleading conﬂation of a law prohibiting insults in ofﬁcial locations against anybody with one prohibiting insults against public ofﬁcials but committed anywhere (for this interpretation, see p. 593 above), though this would be a pretty bold deception on the part of Polyainos or his logographer.

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εἰς τὸ ἀρχεῖον (‘to the arkheion’). For the choice here of the general term ‘ofﬁcial building’ (rather than strate¯geion or ‘building of the Generals’), see p. 583 n. 10 above: it is a plausible assumption that the law summarised at §6 (even if misleadingly, for which see preceding note) and read out at the end of §8 may have been phrased in general terms referring to all ofﬁcials rather than in terms relating speciﬁcally to the Generals, in which case it is not unlikely that it may have contained the term arkheion alongside sunedrion, rather than using the names of buildings associated with speciﬁc ofﬁcials. Arkheion is certainly the term used in Plutarch’s summary of the Solonian law on defamation (Plut. Solon, 21.2), though we cannot of course be sure how closely he is paraphrasing. µάρτυρας παρεσχόµην (‘I have produced witnesses’). Hence the assumption of editors that the testimony of witnesses has disappeared at the end of §7n. §10. εἰς τὸ συνέδριον (‘to the sunedrion’). The same term as in the summary of the law at §6n. τοὺς ἐντὸς πληµµελοῦντας ἀγορεύει τὴν ζηµίαν ὀϕείλειν (‘says that those who offend within it are to owe the ﬁne’). For entos, presumably here meaning ‘inside’ the sunedrion, see p. 582 n. 7 above. Ple¯mmeleo¯ denotes the sort of serious error that one might commit either out of hubris (e.g. Dem. 21.42) or against the gods (e.g. Aiskhin. 3.106). Its use here alongside agoreuo¯ (for which see last note but four) may suggest that care is being taken to disguise the fact that a law stating that such persons are to be ﬁned is not necessarily a complete or exclusive statement of the legal position. ἔχθρᾳ δὲ ανευ τούτου παραλόγως ζηµιωθείς (‘that I have been punished out of enmity, without this, unreasonably’). ‘Without this’ is somewhat unclear, but the phrase can presumably be read either as ‘outside the terms of the law’ or possibly as ‘without having committed an offence’. Perhaps more interesting conceptually is the mention of enmity: it is a notorious characteristic of Athenian forensic oratory that enmity towards the defendant is something that prosecutors are frequently keen to afﬁrm, partly because this is a value system in which the desire to do down personal enemies is morally praiseworthy and partly because the afﬁrmation of enmity in a system where prosecutions are privately initiated helps to avoid the suspicion of improper motives (cf. 1.44n). Kurihara (2003) suggests on the basis of a detailed analysis that enmity is less of a proper motive in public prosecutions, which is certainly possible, though I wonder if here there may be the additional factor that for public ofﬁcials to display partiality is improper because their position gives them an unfair advantage. §11. ὡς ἠδικηκότες (‘that they had acted illegally’), lit. ‘having done wrong’. Contrast the denial that he himself had done so (cf. §10 Iδικηκ< µ&ν οδ&ν φανοµαι, ‘it is clear that I have committed no offence’, lit. ‘not having done wrong’).

9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary §11

617

οὔτε γὰρ εὐθύνας ὑπέσχον (‘for neither did they undergo euthunai’). Earlier scholars tended to read this as meaning that when the Generals underwent euthunai (their end-of-year accounting process), they failed to include this item in their accounts, but MacDowell (1994: 159–160) argues conclusively that this is unsatisfactory both linguistically and also procedurally. Linguistically, he shows that euthunas hupekho¯ can only mean ‘undergo euthunai’: indeed, on the three occasions where the phrase occurs in the Orators—all of which, like the present passage, are phrased in negative terms—what is at issue is a denial that the person concerned either is undergoing (Lys. 24.25) or should undergo (Dem. 18.119; 19.182) euthunai, and in none of the three cases can this denial be stretched to mean ‘undergo but with reservations’. As far as procedure is concerned, MacDowell points out that a complaint about an illegally imposed ﬁne was not part of the ﬁnancial process in which accounts were submitted by the outgoing ofﬁcials, but part of the general procedure in which complaints were initiated by the public, such that their failure to mention the matter would not prevent it from being raised. For the unresolved difﬁculty created by the implied claim that any public ofﬁcial (whether the Generals or on MacDowell’s hypothesis their secretaries) might have been able to avoid euthunai, see p. 588 above. οὔτε εἰς δικαστήριον εἰσελθόντες τὰ πραχθέντα ψήϕῳ κύρια κατέστησαν (‘nor did they come to a dikaste¯rion and render their actions valid by means of a ballot’). Pse¯phos denotes speciﬁcally the type of secret ballot that takes place in a law court, rather than the open show of hands (kheirotonia) used for most votes in the Assembly. It is not clear whether this means ‘they should have prosecuted me properly during their year of ofﬁce’, or possibly ‘by undergoing euthunai (see previous note), they would have created an opportunity for me to challenge their use of the epibole¯ procedure, such that a court would have decided whether they had been acting properly’. εἰ δ̓ οὖν ἐζηµίωσαν µὲν οἵδε προσηκόντως (‘if these people had punished me in a proper manner’). The logic is slightly condensed, but the point seems to be that even if they had had the right to do what they did and had ratiﬁed it properly, nevertheless he would still be exempt because of the action of the Tamiai/ Praktores/Apodektai. It is perhaps slightly odd to ﬁnd hoide (‘these men’) used of the speaker’s opponents, for which its near-synonym houtoi is more standard usage, though not as odd as the use of hoide to denote two different groups in our manuscripts at §19. ἐκύρωσαν δ̓ ἐν ὑµῖν τὴν ἐπιβολήν (‘had ratiﬁed the epibole¯ in your presence’). Athenian orators tend to regard a dikastic jury as being in some sense representative of the polis as a whole. Hence the tendency throughout the corpus to use ‘you’ (pl.) when referring either to legislative decisions made by the Assembly (e.g. Lys. 6.24; 12.68–74; 13.8–11; 17.4; 21.7; 22.16; 30.17) or—as here—to previous judicial decisions (e.g. Lys. 10.24; 13.10; 22.18; 29.2), with no implication that

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there will have been any substantial overlap in membership.15 For the use of ‘you’ in this period to denote speciﬁcally the democratic counter-revolutionaries of 404/3, see 10.4n. §12. εἰ µὲν γὰρ <µὴ> κύριοι ἦσαν πράξασθαι ἢ ἀϕεῖναι (‘if they did not have the authority to exact or to remit’). There is no grammatical indication of a change of subject, but the language of exacting or remitting suggests that he is now talking about the ﬁnancial ofﬁcials, since these are the ones who are said at the end of §11 to have remitted the ﬁne (particularly if MacDowell is right to see Tamiai in this speech as a loose synonym for Praktores, lit. ‘exacters’, in view of the etymology of the latter term). What is less clear is the sequence of thought in the ﬁrst of the two conditional sentences in §12, not least because the text is uncertain. In the second half of §12, the point seems to be that if the Tamiai/Praktores/Apodektai were acting rightly in effectively rejudging the case, at the end of which they had declared the ﬁne invalid, then whatever its original legitimacy the ﬁne is no longer Polyainos’ affair, since they will have to give an explanation (or possibly, reading pl. logous, render ﬁnancial accounts as part of their euthunai) for their administration, and they will be personally liable for the unpaid ﬁne if it is found to have been a legitimate penalty. On this basis, it is certainly plausible to emend the protasis of the ﬁrst condition to take a negative form (‘if the Tamiai/ Praktores/Apodektai did not have the authority’), as do the majority of editors including Carey, but the function of the apodosis (lit. ‘having been legitimately ﬁned I would properly owe’) is less clear, not least because use of the participle leaves us to infer the logical relationship of being ﬁned to owing: the point may be ‘I would only owe if I had been legitimately ﬁned (but I wasn’t)’; alternatively, there may be a more subtle equation of authority to remit and to exact, along the lines, ‘if they didn’t have the right to remit, then neither did they have the right to exact (sic), and so it would not have been legitimate for them to ﬁne me.’

The opponents’ improper motives (§§13–18) §13. τοῦ ἐγκλήµατος (‘the indictment’). For enkle¯ma, see again §3n. Σωστράτῳ γὰρ ϕίλος ἐγενόµην (‘I became a friend of Sostratos’). For the absence of external evidence for the political career of Sostratos, and for the possibility that this was a sexual relationship (i.e. that philos here is a synonym for ero¯menos, as at 3.5n), see p. 585 above. §14. δυναστείας (‘on the basis of his inﬂuence’). The connotations of dunasteia (lit. ‘power’) in the Orators are usually but not always negative.16 It is a particular favourite with Isokrates, who uses it in the plural virtually as a proper noun to 15 There is a contrast here with the Areiopagos, where ‘you’ is at times used to denote regulations or activities that are speciﬁc to the Areiopagos itself (Lys. 3.46; 7.25), in ways which may imply a perception that there is something separate and distinctive about this body of government. 16 For the use of dunasteia in a range of other literary texts, see Bearzot (2003).

9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary §§14–15

619

describe despotic régimes (e.g. Isok. 4.39, 4.105, and cf. similarly Lys. 2.18), and in the singular usually with some moral reservations to describe the imperial ambitions of states such as ﬁfth-century Athens (e.g. Isok. 8.65, 15.64).17 When used to describe the power held by individuals, the connotations of dunasteia are again usually negative: it is used of the inﬂuence over the Assembly held by ﬁfthcentury demagogues (Isok. 8.121), or of a Phoenician émigré who usurped power and betrayed Cyprus to Persia (Isok. 9.19), and similarly of bad men owing their dunasteia to popular support (Dem. 25.7), but it can also be used in a neutral sense (Isok. 2.8, on the need for a monarch to support both those holding dunasteia and those beneath them). In the present passage the overall connotation must presumably be positive, because of the speaker’s link with Sostratos, but it has been suggested that the choice of a word often linked with oligarchy may be intentionally overstated: ‘though Sostratos had the excessive power of an oligarch, yet I never abused it’ (Shuckburgh 1892 [1882]: 217). οὔτ̓ ἐχθρὸν ἐτιµωρησάµην οὔτε ϕίλον εὐεργέτησα (‘I did not take vengeance on an enemy or confer beneﬁts on a friend’). The closest parallels to this in the corpus— which is interesting, in view of the normal connotations of dunasteia (see previous note)—are the claims made by those who remained in Athens under the Thirty that they had not taken advantage of the oligarchic régime to beneﬁt their friends or harm their enemies: see e.g. Lys. 25.15–16, and Lys. frag. 107 For Eryximakhos lines 108–119. [διὰ τὴν ἀνάγκην] διὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν ἐσχόλαζον (‘because of my age, I took no part in public affairs’). Skholazo¯ (lit. ‘to be at leisure’) is found in only three other speeches, none of which provides a direct parallel, though Dem. 3.35 uses it to describe the option of leaving military service to mercenaries and taking no part in it. Some scholars have attempted to rescue the ananke¯ clause (lit. ‘because of necessity’, with awkwardly repeated preposition) either by emending it into a dative to mean ‘out of necessity’ (i.e. because he was too young, cf. p. 585 with n. 19 above) or by reading ananke¯ as ‘close relationship’ in the sense of anankaiote¯s (Lys. 32.5), but deletion (with Carey) seems a better option. οὔτε λόγῳ οὔτε ἔργῳ ἔβλαψα οὐδένα τῶν κατηγορούντων (‘I did not hurt any of my accusers in word or deed’). Not in itself a complete proof of the claim not to have harmed any enemies (see last note but one), since he might have had enemies other than his current opponents, but a useful transition to the claim that it is they who are gratuitously stirring up trouble against him. τῶν ἀντιδίκων (‘the opposing litigants’). See §1n. §15. ὀµόσαντες µὲν οὖν τοὺς ἀστρατεύτους καταλέξειν (‘after swearing to call up those who had not been on campaign’). Astrateutos is lit. ‘without military 17 Though Isok. 12.59 is a more positive description of how Athenian dunasteia imposed the terms of the Peace of Kallias on the Persians, and 4.65 a frankly laudatory account of Athens’ mythological pre-eminence over Eurystheus and the Peloponnese.

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service’: LSJ renders this as ‘exempt’, but in view of the fact that the oath is to select such men rather than to excuse, it must here presumably denote somebody who has not (recently) undergone service. This is one of several statements in the narrative and the proof where the prosecution is described in terms which would seem to relate to the Generals, since it is hard to envisage that such an oath would be sworn by their secretaries: the implications for MacDowell’s interpretation of the speech are noted at p. 589 above. τῷ πλήθει (‘before the people’). Ple¯thos (lit. ‘multitude’ or ‘mass’) is a favourite term in the corpus of Lysias, typically in conjunction with the second-person plural possessive pronoun humeteron to denote ‘your democracy’ (thus e.g. §17).18 Contrary to the impression given by LSJ (s.v. ple¯thos I.2.b), however, the use of ple¯thos to denote an institution or body of government is extremely rare in the Orators, as it is also in epigraphic texts:19 the only parallel in the Orators known to me is Aiskhin. 2.105, which describes Epameinondas speaking in the ple¯thos of the Thebans, though there is a possible example relating to Athens in Plato’s Apology.20 These two parallels, however, would suggest that if ple¯thos is used in an institutional sense, the reference must be to the Assembly rather than to a law court, in rather the same way that Hansen (1991: 154–155 with refs.) has demonstrated that de¯mos—albeit a term which is used as frequently with reference to the Assembly as to the democracy—is never used to denote the dikastic law courts. But it is hard in the present passage to see in what context the prosecution could be described as bringing his case before the Assembly, let alone on a capital charge (see following note), given that the present trial is an apographe¯ heard by a law court, and that the only judicial procedure that could alternatively be heard by the Assembly is eisangelia (impeachment), which is clearly not at issue either in the present trial or in any conceivably related litigation. βουλεύσασθαι περὶ τοῦ σώµατος (‘to make a decision on a capital charge’). Bouleuomai is an odd choice of verb to describe a judicial verdict, though it is occasionally used of decisions in quasi-judicial proceedings like the dokimasia (e.g. Lys. 26.21). The claim that the case involves his so¯ma or ‘person’ (lit. ‘body’), 18 Ple¯thos without humeteron can also have this meaning in Lysias (as at 2.66, 14.10, 18.5, and 30.9), and ple¯thos can of course be used of a mass of other things or people (nine of its ten appearances in Lys. 2 relate to the size of military forces), but it is nevertheless striking that the combination with humeteron accounts for 45 of the 79 occurrences of ple¯thos in the Lysianic corpus. 19 For example, the oath of loyalty in the Erythrai decree is clearly to the democracy, not (as claimed by LSJ) to the Assembly. For the repeated use of the cognate participial phrase de¯mos ple¯thuo¯n—‘the de¯mos being en masse’, apparently to signify matters where a decision could be taken only by the Assembly—uniquely in IG i3, 105 (dated c.409 bc but probably preserving elements of earlier regulations), see Ryan (1994). 20 Pl. Apol. 31c5–7: δηµοσS δ& ο τολµ α2ναβανων ε τ πλ8θο τ 7µ τερον συµβουλε$ειν τ^ π*λει (‘that I have not dared to come forward publicly in front of your ple¯thos and advise the polis’): Plato’s use of technical terminology for democratic institutions in this speech is generally accurate, though he does occasionally play games with it (e.g. the use of andres dikastai at 40a2–3, in contrast to the rest of the speech).

9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary §§15–18

621

as at 1.50n, could signify either the death penalty or exile with conﬁscation of property. Either way, it is a gross exaggeration if the reference is to the present trial, where the outcome on conviction is most likely to be a fairly low ﬁne (albeit perhaps doubled, but even so, quite possibly no higher than 100 drachmas, cf. p. 591 with n. 39 above), though there might be the makings of an explanation in the suggestion at §21n that if convicted he would leave Athens. For the difﬁculties involved in envisaging this as a separate prosecution for failure to undertake military service (graphe¯ astrateias), see p. 592 with n. 42 above. §16. τὴν ἀρχὴν λοιδοροῦντα (‘slandering their authority’). Loidoreo¯ rather than kake¯goreo¯, cf. p. 593 above. The conjunction with arkhe¯ is possibly an attempt to remind the jury of what may be an important misrepresentation of the law, for which cf. §6n. κατολιγωρήσαντες δὲ τοῦ δικαίου (‘treated justice with contempt’). The sole appearance of katoligo¯reo¯ in the Orators; cf. oligo¯ro¯s (‘contemptuously’) in §17. βιαζόµενοι βλάπτειν ἐξ απαντος [τοῦ] λόγου (‘while using every effort to hurt me’), lit. ‘on the basis of the whole reckoning’ (as in Soph. OT 1224–1225). §17. κατεϕρόνησαν τοῦ ὑµετέρου πλήθους, οὐδὲ ϕοβηθῆναι τοὺς θεοὺς ἠξίωσαν (‘despised your democracy [ple¯thos, as at §15n], and did not think it right that the gods should be respected’). Being enemies of the people is, as Albini (1955: 458 n. 9) notes, a charge easily laid at the door of Athenian Generals (e.g. Lys. 14.21). Less common is the allegation that public ofﬁcials are contemptuous of the gods: there is an exception at Lys. 12.9, but to attack ofﬁcials under the democracy with the type of rhetorical ﬂourish used against the Thirty is perhaps to risk making the speaker appear slightly ridiculous. τὸ πέρας ἐκ τῆς πόλεως ἐξήλασαν (‘they have at length driven me out of the polis’). Presumably a protreptic allusion to his threat at §21 to leave Athens if convicted. §18. παραγαγόντες δὲ πάλιν περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν (‘bringing me forward again on the same subject’), i.e. presumably dragging him into court. It is hard to see precisely what he is protesting about here, unless it is that the matter has in his view already been dealt with either by the original epibole¯ (§6, but this would be a fairly cheeky argument, since he had never paid it), or better perhaps by the hearing conducted by the Tamiai or Praktores or Apodektai at §7 (cf. the claim at §12 that their decision, whatever its legal status, renders him in some sense no longer liable). It is not clear whether Athenian law had a formal principle to protect defendants against double jeopardy, though litigants are certainly capable of arguing when it suits them that cases that have once been tried should not be tried again (e.g. Dem. 36.25, in the context of a discussion of aphesis and apallage¯;21 cf. also Ant. 21

A formal release from legal claims, which could be used as the basis of a paragraphe¯ or counter-prosecution to block any attempt to bring the matter in front of a court.

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5.14, where the defendant seeks to persuade the jury that, if acquitted in the present apago¯ge¯, he still risks being prosecuted for homicide by dike¯ phonou, and that this is unfair). There is however one Athenian judicial procedure which would seem to institutionalise double jeopardy, at least in the form that it is presented to us: Hypereides claims that the graphe¯ do¯roxenias was instituted in order to enable the retrial of anybody acquitted in a graphe¯ xenias or prosecution for falsely claiming citizenship, α`ν µD δοκσι δικαω τ πρτον α2ποπεφευγ ναι ‘if they seem to have been acquitted unjustly on the ﬁrst occasion’.22 It was of course always possible to ﬁnd ways of perpetuating a dispute without formally reopening a case, e.g. most obviously by the use of dike¯ pseudomarturio¯n but also by bringing other charges: a striking example may be found in the four trials culminating in Lys. 10. τοῖς µὲν ἐµοῖς ἐπιτηδεύµασιν οὐ προσηκούσας διαβολὰς ἐπιϕέροντες (‘imputing slanders which are inappropriate to my style of life’). There may, as Blass (1887 [1868]: 597 n. 6) suggests, be an allusion here to the speaker’s putative former relationship with Sostratos (for which see p. 585 above): the terms deployed to denote ‘style of life’ here and ‘habits’ in the following clause are used with some frequency in Aiskhines’ portrayal of Timarkhos as a former homosexual prostitute (epite¯deumata e.g. at Aiskhin. 1.93, 1.185, 1.192, and tropoi e.g. at 1.8, 1.36, 1.74). If so, then this might suggest that it was not simply the fact of the affair that was being attacked, but also its nature.

§§19–22: Peroration §19. οἵδε µὲν οὖν (‘these people’). For the use of hoide in place of the normal houtoi in this speech to denote the speaker’s opponents, see §11n. A more striking oddity here, however, is the repeated use of hoide three lines below with a different referent. τοὺς βέλτιον καὶ δικαίως βουλευσαµένους (‘those who took a better and a just decision’), i.e. the Tamiai or Praktores or Apodektai. The intended contrast is presumably with the initial decision of the Generals to impose the epibole¯, though there is the risk that the jury might read it as a tactless contrast with their own decision-making ability. οἵδε µὲν γάρ (‘these people’). Clearly a reference to the Tamiai/Praktores/ Apodektai: the use of the same pronoun within two lines to denote a different group of people is so startling that several editors (Thalheim, Albini) have emended the text, even though there is no palaeographical evidence for this. §20. τούτων (‘these men’). Reverting (contrast last note but two) to the normal use of houtoi to denote the speaker’s opponents, rather than the exceptional use of hoide.

22

Hyp. frag. 20 Jensen, from the fragmentary speech Against Aristagora.

9. On behalf of the Soldier: Commentary §§20–22

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µετρίως [αν] ἠγανάκτουν (‘I was reasonably annoyed’), lit. ‘moderately’ (cf. metrios in §4n), which could either mean to a moderate extent (‘somewhat’) or in a moderate fashion (‘justiﬁably’). τετάχθαι τοὺς µὲν ἐχθροὺς κακῶς ποιεῖν, τοὺς δὲ ϕίλους εὖ (‘that life was organised on a principle of hurting one’s enemies and beneﬁting one’s friends’), lit. ‘that it was drawn up’, as in a battle-line. For the ethic of helping friends and harming enemies, see 6.7n. δἰ ἔχθραν µὲν γὰρ οὐ . . . διὰ κακίαν δὲ τῆς πόλεως (‘not because of enmity but because of some wickedness in the polis’). If the text is secure (it is doubted by Shuckburgh 1892 [1882]: 219, on the grounds that the imputation is so striking), this would seem to be a very risky way of criticising the possible decision of one’s audience. §21. περὶ πολιτείας (‘over my citizenship’). The phrase is particularly common in the corpus of Lysias, which accounts for six of its seven appearances with or without deﬁnite article in the Orators (the exception being at Isok. 12.114). In four of the six, politeia denotes ‘the democratic constitution’ (Lys. 12.72, 12.74, 25.10 and 31.31), but the ‘citizenship’ of individuals is the referent also at 18.1. τῶνδε (‘these people’). Hoide again, referring this time again to the prosecution (cf. §20n). ἀποδραίην αν (‘I should run away’). Cf. Dem. 57.70, for a more drastic but slightly more reasoned threat of suicide in case of conviction (‘so that I may be buried by my relatives in my fatherland’). Presumably he is referring here to voluntary exile, but apodidrasko¯ is a distinctly odd word for Polyainos to choose, since its connotations in the Orators are normally of escaped prisoners (e.g. Dem. 22.34, 24.125, 25.56) or escaped slaves (Dem. 53.6),23 or alternatively those evading military service or deserting the battle-line (Lys. 16.17, Aiskhin. 3.125, Dem. 23.156, Dein. 1.81). Admittedly Lys. 10.17 uses the word to gloss an archaic legal term apparently describing voluntary exile in lieu of a trial, but we might assume that the connotations of military evasion in particular are not ones which Polyainos would be keen to recall to the minds of the jury. τίνι γὰρ ἐπαρθέντα ἐλπίδι δεῖ µε συµπολιτεύεσθαι (‘what hope would there be to encourage me to share in the citizenship’), lit. ‘aroused by what hope must I share (i.e. retain my share). . .’. §22. διὰ τὰς ἔχθρας (‘as a result of enmity’). For the emphasis on the impropriety of his opponent’s enmity towards him, see §10n. 23

There may be a hint of this also in the description of Neaira’s move to Megara in Dem. 59.35 and 59.49, since part of Apollodoros’ strategy is to emphasise her alleged slave-origins.

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Lysias 10–11 Prosecution against Theomnestos, 1 and 2 Introduction I. TIMING AND AUTHORSHIP Lys. 10 is one of the latest speeches in the corpus, and one of the more securely dated. We are told at §4 that it is now the twentieth year since the democratic counter-revolution, which took place in the summer of 403. On the likely assumption that the speaker regards the democratic restoration as having occurred at the start of the Arkhon-year of Eukleides (403/2, cf. 10.4n), that would place the speech some time in 384/3, though it could in theory be the previous year if he thought of the counter-revolution as taking place in the ﬁnal days of Pythodoros, who was Arkhon under the Thirty (404/3).1 Unlike the two previous speeches, few scholars have doubted Lysias’ authorship of Lys. 10. An overlap in phrasing between Lys. 10.18 and 2.73 has occasionally been noted, but its extent is not sufﬁcient to make clear which passage derives from the other, so that even those who see Lys. 2 as a late sophistic work do not generally regard it as evidence against the present speech.2 Bruns (1896: 460–461) rejected Lys. 10 because of his theory that Lysias’ prosecution speeches did not normally use incidental detail as a tool of characterisation, and that the speeches where this does happen are therefore not by Lysias,3 but there are obvious elements of circular argument in such a theory. In perhaps the most detailed attack on the authorship of Lys. 10, Knips (1931: 69–77) concluded that though a genuine 1 Other speeches which can be dated with comparable precision include Lys. 6 (if genuinely delivered at Andokides’ trial in the autumn of probably 400/399), Lys. 14 (395/4 at the start of the Corinthian War), and Lys. 26 (the ﬁnal day of the Arkhon-year 383/2). The last of these is the only complete speech to be delivered after Lys. 10, though Lys. frag. sp. CXXXV Pherenikos must belong during the period of Spartan occupation of the Theban Kadmeia in 382–379. 2 Thus Sykutris (1933: 86 n. 1), who accepts the speech tentatively. Hillgruber (1988: 94–95), who accepts it ﬁrmly, notes that Blass (1887: 607–608 [not in 1868 edn.], contrast 1880: 184), who did regard Lys. 2 as a late work, had retracted his earlier doubts on the implications of the overlap for Lys. 10. 3 Viz. Lys. 10, Lys. 24, and Lys. frag. sp. I Aiskh.Sok. Bruns regarded the dokimasia-speeches (of which Lys. 26 and Lys. 31 are the equivalent of prosecutions) as an exception to the rule, since in his view the candidate’s character was a central issue in this process.

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forensic speech of the early fourth century it cannot have been written by Lysias, primarily on the basis of his exhaustive study of thirty-one words found nowhere else in Lysias:4 while conceding that nine of these belong to the quoted texts of legal statutes (most of which are included at §§16–19 precisely because of their obsolete terminology),5 and that several others are not in themselves signiﬁcant, he nevertheless found six that he regarded as doubtful and nine as deﬁnitely not Lysianic usage.6 These ﬁfteen words however include several that are clearly taken from legal statutes that are alluded to without being formally quoted, and others which can be explained in other ways, for instance as part of a strategy (which will be considered further at p. 636 below) to adopt an unusually didactic persona towards the defendant.7 Knips’ list of hapaxes was considered in detail in a lengthy review by Sykutris (1933), who concluded that it was insufﬁcient to disprove authorship. One by-product of the general consensus in favour of Lysianic authorship is that it involves dismissing the judgment expressed by Harpokration, who seems as a lexicographer to have been particularly interested in this speech because of its archaic legal terminology: he cites it no fewer than six times by name,8 which is as often as any of the speeches in the surviving corpus and is exceeded by only one of the lost speeches.9 In four of the six citations in which he names the speech 4

For the use of such hapaxes as a criterion for authorship, cf. p. 550 above. Knips’ list of terms in legal statutes: §16 ποδοκα´κκb and προστιµσb, §17 δρασκα´ζειν and α2πλλει, §18 στα´σιµον, §19 πεφασµ νω, πωλο'νται and οκ8ο; cf. also §9 7π*δικον. 6 Knips’ list of dubious words: §9 µεµελ τηκα, §10 α2νδραποδιστν, §11 (Sθυµα and µαλακα, §20 σιδηρο', §28 σ$µφυτο; of deﬁnitely non-Lysianic words: §2 α2νελε$θερον and §2 φιλ*δικον, §3 ξαρετον, §8 πατραλοαν, µητραλοαν and τεκο'σαν, §15 σκαι*ν, §18 πανα´γνωθι, §20 -ννουν. 7 Legal terms: α2νδραποδιστ (‘kidnapper’) is widely attested as one of the categories of offender liable to apago¯ge¯ or summary arrest; and it is evident at §8 that πατραλοα (‘father-beater’) and µητραλοα (‘mother-beater’) are an allusion to the statutory list of aporrhe¯ta (slanderous words, cf. p. 633 below). Several of Knips’ terms, as he himself acknowledges, are found in other 4th-cent. prose authors (φιλ*δικο ‘litigious’ is found in Dem. and Aristot., and α2νελε$θερο ‘unfree’ is common in Xen., Plat., and Dem.). Indeed, the only distinctively verse usage is τεκο'σα (‘she who gave birth’) which in context may reﬂect a deliberately ridiculous choice of high-ﬂown synonym for ‘mother’. 8 Harpokration s.vv. α2π*ρρητα (§6), ποδοκα´κκη (§16), πιορκσαντα (§17, cf. Souda), α2πλλειν (§17, cf. Favorinus), πεφασµ νη (§19, and cf. possibly Souda and Photios s.v. πεφασµ νο), οκ ω (§19). Another possible testimonium, though naming neither the author nor the speech, is Hesykh. s.v. δρασκα´ζειν (§17); less likely is Harpok. s.v. α2ποπεφασµ νον, unless this is a variant reading for πεφασµ νω (§19, cf. Souda, Photios, and the Sunago¯ge¯, as cited in Carey). 9 The other speeches in the surviving corpus are cited by Harpokration as follows (in descending order of frequency): Lys. 12 seven times, of which ﬁve carry the speech title and none express doubt over authorship; Lys. 7 three times, of which two have the speech title, no doubts; Lys. 1 twice (cf. 1.17n), no doubts; Lys. 6 twice, once with doubt; Lys. 2 and Lys. 33 each once, both with no doubts; Lys. 9, Lys. 14, and Lys. 30 all once, each with doubts; Lys. 24 once, phrased in such a way that it is not certain whether doubt is being expressed; possibly also Lys. 16 once, but without name of speech. He also cites 77 fragmentary speeches, 22 of which appear between two and nine times. None of those appearing more than four times shows a consistent pattern of doubt (so Lys. 10 is not atypical in this respect), which makes it hard to judge the signiﬁcance of the fact that doubt is expressed in only 16 of the 55 single-appearance speeches: given the state of Harpokration’s text, however, it is arguable that doubts are more likely to have disappeared from individual entries than the reverse. 5

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as well as the author, however, there is the addition ‘if genuine’, which is his standard formula for indicating misattribution.10 Those scholars who seek to use Harpokration as a generally reliable basis for determining authorship while wishing to rescue this speech from his negative verdict have usually followed the lead of Blass and Frohberger,11 both of whom argued that ancient critics tended to regard minor cases as unworthy of great orators. Whether ‘minor case’ is a legitimate assessment of Lys. 10 is perhaps open to doubt, but I would myself prefer to place less reliance on the value of Harpokration as a determining criterion (rather than simply one among other criteria) for the authorship of speeches which cannot be so explained. Leaving aside questions of accuracy of transmission in our manuscripts of his lexicon, we do not know whether the judgments that he expressed were the product of his own reading or derived from those of earlier critics, and if so from which ones: we know for instance that Kaikilios and Dionysios worked extensively on the whole corpus and were interested in questions of attribution, and in the very few cases where we can see the latter’s critical judgment in action, the arguments he presents are highly convincing ones; but we know also of several ancient critics whose views were regarded by Dionysios and others as eccentric to the point of absurdity.12

II. THE SEQUENCE OF PREVIOUS TRIALS Underlying Lys. 10 is an extended series of disputes, which is of much interest both politically and juridically. There is no evidence external to the speech, but from internal evidence it is clear that this is the fourth trial dealing with the same sequence of events. The ﬁrst of these cases, both chronologically and within the narrative, is mentioned at §1, where we are told that an attempt by Theomnestos 10 Cited by Harpokration four times with doubts over the authorship (Λυσα ν τ κατα` Θεοµνστου, ε γνσιο [K λ*γο], ‘Lysias in the Prosecution speech against Theomnestos, if [the speech is] genuine’, s.v. α2π*ρρητα §6, s.v. ποδοκα´κκη §16, s.v. α2πλλειν §17, s.v. πεφασµ νη §19); twice without any such doubts (Λυσα κατα` Θεοµνστου, ‘Lysias, Prosecution speech against Theomnestos’, s.v. πιορκσαντα §17, and s.v. οκ ω §19). (For a possible but by no means certain seventh reference, s.v. α2ποπεφασµ νον, see p. 626 n.8 above: it is attributed to ‘Lysias’ without doubts about authorship but also without name of speech). For the signiﬁcance of the fact that Harpokration only mentions one speech Against Theomnestos, see p. 640 below. 11 Blass (1887 [1868]: 605), Frohberger & Thalheim (1892 [1866–71.ii]: 151), followed e.g. by Fernández-Galiano (1953: 194) and by Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 142). 12 Compare Dionysios’ attack on Theophrastos’ attribution to Lysias of a speech in the mouth of Nikias at Syracuse in 413 (Dion.Hal. On Lysias, §14), and cf. p. 478 above for the possibility that his comments on the spuriousness of the speeches For Iphikrates were aimed at Paul of Mysia. Dionysios seems to have respected Kaikilios (who is described as a personal friend in his Letter to Gnaeus Pompeius §3), but it is worth bearing in mind the possibility of Atticist versus Asianist polemic in the latter’s work, as may be implied by Longinus’ statement (On the Sublime, §32.8) that Kaikilios wrote a treatise arguing that Lysias was a better writer than Plato.

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(the opponent in the current case)13 to speak in the Assembly (de¯me¯gorein) had been challenged by Lysitheos, who alleged that Theomnestos had previously thrown away his shield in battle. Such cowardice was an offence which could apparently lead directly to prosecution by graphe¯ deilias (public prosecution for cowardice), with the punishment on conviction being atimia (loss of civic rights), but the wording of §1 implies that Lysitheos was bringing up an allegation which had not previously come to trial.14 The nature of the legal procedure used by Lysitheos is controversial,15 and controversial also is the result of this ﬁrst trial. Scholars have traditionally assumed that there must have been an acquittal, partly because this seems the natural reading of §3 (thus e.g. Blass 1887: 602 with n. 2), but more signiﬁcantly on the assumption that otherwise the speaker would have made a point of mentioning Theomnestos’ defeat. This consensus has been challenged by Hillgruber (1988: 2–4), who suggests that a putative conviction of Theomnestos will have been annulled by the latter’s success in himself convicting Lysitheos’ witness Dionysios for false testimony (§24 and §30, cf. below), and that the ‘gift’ mentioned at §24 is more easily understood if it denotes not simply the conviction of Dionysios but the resulting annulment of the previous verdict. The ﬁrst of these points is plausible, though the second is hardly conclusive: Athenian litigation is a highly personalised system, in which to defeat an opponent is a victory not just for justice but for oneself. Similarly, I am not persuaded by Hillgruber’s underlying assumption that Theomnestos’ only reason to prosecute Dionysios will have been the desire to overturn the initial verdict: there could equally well be other motives, including the desire to heighten his victory that we see reﬂected in the rest of the sequence of trials. Hillgruber himself suggests that Lysias’ failure to mention Theomnestos’ initial conviction is because its rhetorical value had been undermined by its putative annulment, but we may suspect that in such a case he would have been more likely to have pointed out that at least there was one jury which had not been deceived by his opponent’s lies. The relative chronology of the next two trials in the sequence is unspeciﬁed, and so are some of the details, but it is clear that both were initiated by Theomnestos. One of them, as we have seen, was his successful prosecution of Dionysios, which is alluded to several times during the speech, though only in

13 Neither Theomnestos nor any of the others named in the speech can be identiﬁed with certainty, not least because none of the names is particularly rare. In addition to the ﬁfty-six individuals named Theomnestos and the thirty-one named Lysitheos in LGPN Attica, there are thirty-one named Theon (§12, though cf. below), and 1,103 named Dionysios (§24, §30). For the possible identiﬁcation of the speaker’s father as Leon of Salamis, see pp. 637–638 below: this is based on the speaker’s relationship with Pantaleon (§5: LGPN Attica lists seventeen individuals so named). 14 Possibly indeed an allegation based on events some years previously, cf. 10.25n. 15 There are both textual and interpretational difﬁculties, but even those who on linguistic grounds reject Gernet & Bizos’ emendation of the text, which would turn the case from eisangelia (impeachment) into epangelia (the formal challenge preparatory to dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n or ‘scrutiny of orators’), have nevertheless often accepted that this type of dokimasia is a much more likely procedure: see 10.1n.

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passing: we are told at §22 that Theomnestos has succeeded in imposing atimia (loss of civic rights) on the unnamed person who had witnessed against him; at §§24–25, mention of the gift (cf. above) given by ‘you’ (i.e. a previous jury) to Theomnestos leads immediately into a lament for Dionysios, who is said to have left the court-room complaining that ‘those who had kept their shields had been convicted of false witness by those who threw them away’; and it is stated at §30 that the speaker had given the same testimony as Dionysios. These passages can most easily be read as albeit somewhat cryptic references to a single event,16 if we assume that Dionysios and the speaker had witnessed for Lysitheos in the latter’s initial prosecution of Theomnestos, and that the latter had then successfully prosecuted Dionysios—the question of why such a conviction should have led to atimia, which was normally imposed only following a third conviction for false testimony, is discussed at 10.22n—and that one of the speaker’s reasons for initiating the current prosecution is fear that he too may be facing a similar prosecution. The other prosecution brought by Theomnestos is said in the manuscript at §12 to have been against ‘Theon’. Since this name appears nowhere else in the speech, the suggestion that it should be emended to ‘Lysitheos’ (i.e. an act of direct retaliation against the initial prosecutor) has won considerable acceptance,17 but the emendation is palaeographically not easy,18 and there has more recently been something of a move back to the manuscript text.19 The procedure used by Theomnestos here was the dike¯ kake¯gorias or private prosecution for defamation, the legal signiﬁcance of which will form the subject of the next section of this Introduction, because it is coincidentally the procedure which also forms the subject of the trial for which the present speech is written. Unlike the prosecution of Dionysios, we are not explicitly told the result of the trial mentioned at §12, though in this case scholars are agreed that the

16 As noted at p. 543 with n. 9 above, it is relatively rare in Lysias for a name to be introduced so allusively. 17 Initially proposed by Frohberger (1866–71.ii: 67), who included among his arguments the claim that the name Theon is not attested until late rhetoricians and grammarians; this claim however was dropped in the second edition (Frohberger & Thalheim 1892: 150 with n. 21), possibly because of its presence as aule¯te¯s on the khore¯gic monument of Lysikrates, dated to 335/4 (IG ii2, 3042). Frohberger’s amendment is followed e.g. in the following printed texts: Hude (1912: 82); Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 146); Lamb (1930: 204); Fernández-Galiano (1953: 199); Albini (1955: 62); and Usher in Edwards & Usher (1985: 148). 18 It is difﬁcult to account for the loss of the ﬁrst four letters in the supposed corruption of ΛΥΣΙΘΕΩΙ into ΘΕΩΝΙ, particularly given that the former is a name that has already appeared at §1. An alternative which perhaps deserves attention is the suggestion of Francken (1865: 78), that ΘΕΩΝΙ could be a corruption of the abbreviated vocative ΘΕΟΜΝ[ηστε], though this would require the addition of the deﬁnite article before επ*ντι to complete the sentence: ‘you yourself, Theomnestos, prosecuted for defamation the one (i.e. Lysitheos) who said . . .’. 19 Hillgruber (1988: 60), Medda (1989–95.i: 286 n. 8), and Carey’s OCT, following the lead previously given by Sykutris (1933: 81 n. 3). Accepting the name Theon would give us a second character alongside Dionysios (cf. previous paragraph) to be introduced unusually for Lysias in a way that does not make clear his function within the case.

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speaker’s silence indicates that Theomnestos must once again have achieved a conviction. Whereas Theomnestos’ use of this procedure seems to have been based either (if against Lysitheos) on the original allegation that he had thrown away his shield or alternatively (if against Theon) on a subsequent but otherwise unattested repetition of it,20 the prosecution now being brought against Theomnestos by Lysias’ client arises out of an incident during the ﬁrst trial (§1), at which Theomnestos had apparently claimed that the latter was guilty of parricide: since, as we have seen, the speaker appears to have been one of Lysitheos’ witnesses alongside Dionysios, this was presumably an allegation made to undermine his credibility or standing as a witness, though the speaker asserts that Theomnestos’ defence will include a claim to have spoken out of anger (§30). In preparation for the court-hearing, the case has evidently been heard by an arbitrator (§6). Athens in the fourth century had two systems of arbitration. In the ﬁrst of these systems, litigants who so wished could agree to refer their dispute to one or more private arbitrators chosen by themselves, but it is generally and in my view rightly agreed that they could not then appeal to a law court against the arbitrator’s verdict.21 Since the present case has come to court, it would follow that what we have here is the second system, which has traditionally been called ‘public arbitration’ but is perhaps better termed ‘ofﬁcial arbitration’.22 This was introduced soon after the democratic restoration of 403/2,23 and was a system whereby private disputes brought before the Forty for sums above ten drachmas were referred automatically to an arbitrator chosen from among men in their sixtieth year, who were themselves required to fulﬁl this function during the year that they ceased to be liable for military service (Ath.Pol. 53.2–5). One of the distinguishing characteristics of ofﬁcial arbitration was that although the procedure was compulsory, either litigant could respond to the judgment by giving 20 Wallace (1994: 121) notes that if Frohberger’s amendment is accepted, this implies that the law clearly allowed the defendant in a dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n to bring defamation proceedings against his accuser. The absence of a concept of judicial privilege at Athens is noted at p. 633 n. 33 below. 21 This consensus regarding arbitration and appeal has been challenged by Scafuro, who argues both that private arbitration was not binding, at least in the fourth century (Scafuro 1997: 122–126), and also that ofﬁcial arbitration did have ‘a binding quality’, despite Ath.Pol. 53.2 (Scafuro 1997: 391). But several of Scafuro’s arguments here seem less than convincing. Isok. 18.11, for instance, describes the use of a private arbitrator’s verdict to block further litigation, and Scafuro’s suggestion that this was no longer possible after c.400 is hard to maintain in the light of the similarity with Dem. 36.23; similarly, Dem. 21.81 would seem to demonstrate merely that an ofﬁcial arbitrator’s verdict was enforceable in the absence of appeal, not that it was inappellable. See generally the review of Scafuro by MacDowell (1998). 22 For the term, see Scafuro (1997: 35 n. 36), who notes that both private and ofﬁcial arbitrators are laymen, that both exercise their functions in public, and that both treat private cases. 23 MacDowell (1971) argues that they ﬁrst held ofﬁce in 399/8, but for reasons put forward by Whitehead (2002: 83–84, 89), I see no reason to reject the previous consensus that they were introduced earlier in the period 403–400: the key evidence is Lys. 17.3, on which see also Todd (1985: 13 n. 15) and Todd (2000a: 188 n. 4). For the inference that the present case falls under the jurisdiction of the Forty, see e.g. Blass (1887: 601 n. 3), against his own previous acceptance (Blass 1868: 611) of the earlier view that it will have been heard by the Thesmothetai.

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notice of his intention to appeal to a law-court;24 and Ath.Pol. describes how, if that happened, all the documents presented at the arbitrator’s hearing were placed under seal in ekhinoi (jars), so that no new evidence could be brought forward at the trial. It is perhaps worth drawing preliminary attention here to two ways in which the arbitration procedure may have had important implications for forensic strategy. The ﬁrst is that Lysias nowhere mentions the arbitrator’s decision. It has been suggested (for instance by Roebuck 2000: 191) that he might therefore have failed to return a verdict, but this seems to have been possible only in cases of private arbitration.25 Since it would seem to be very much in Lysias’ interests to mention a judgment in favour of his client, Sykutris (1933: 82) and Hillgruber (1988: 12) infer that the verdict must therefore have been for Theomnestos. This is almost certainly a correct inference, but if so, it is striking that the argument from synonyms attributed to Theomnestos at §§6–21 is generally agreed by scholars to be so weak.26 The second point, which has not to my knowledge received attention, is more speculative but potentially even more odd. We do not know for certain when Ath.Pol.’s rule about the sealing of evidence was ﬁrst introduced, and it is possible that this did not happen until the 370s, when it became compulsory for the testimony of witnesses to be submitted in writing. The texts of laws, however, will presumably have been presented in writing before this date (cf. the repeated requests at §§16–19 for them to be read out by the clerk): if Boegehold (1995: 80) is correct in seeing Aristoph. Wasps, 1435–37, as albeit cryptic evidence for the use of the ekhinos as a piece of law-court equipment as early as 422, then it is possible that the various archaic laws cited in the present speech will therefore have had to be presented as part of the speaker’s strategy already at arbitration.27

III. ATHENIAN LAW ON DEFAMATION As is noted at p. 21 above (and cf. also pp. 545–546 above), Lys. 8–11 are grouped in the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses under the heading ‘kake¯gorias’ (for defamation), 24

Though see last footnote but two for a contrary view. Refusal of private arbitrators to return verdict: Isai. 5.33. Contrast Ath.Pol. 53.5, which emphasises that an ofﬁcial arbitrator is compelled to complete (κδιαιτα˜ν) any case submitted to him: that this requirement would not be fulﬁlled by a declaration that he was not in a position to deliver judgment is suggested by Dem. 21.83, where it is claimed that Straton as ofﬁcial arbitrator ruled in Demosthenes’ favour after failing to persuade him to allow his case against the absent Meidias to be deferred until the following day. 26 On the assumption of a decision for the prosecutor, we might have expected §6 to speak of ‘the argument with which Theomnestos deceived the arbitrator’, but it may have been wiser to keep quiet about this. For Lysias’ use of the argument from synonyms, see p. 635 below. 27 See the discussion of forensic strategy at p. 636 with n. 42 below. It should however be noted that the Wasps passage cannot itself refer to ofﬁcial arbitration, since this was not introduced for another twenty years. 25

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even though only Lys. 10 is a genuine kake¯goria case. It therefore seems appropriate brieﬂy to set the case within its broader legal context.28 An important question about the dike¯ kake¯gorias concerns the consistency of terminology. It has been suggested that the terms kake¯goria and loidoria were legally synonymous, on the basis particularly of Dem. 54.18–19.29 Closer examination however, suggests a different conclusion: Demosthenes’ aim in this passage is to present a sequence of legal actions each designed to prevent undesirable forms of behaviour, and it is notable that whereas he uses the appropriate technical terms to denote the various legal procedures (dike¯ kake¯gorias, dike¯ aikeias, graphe¯ [or dike¯, cf. p. 284 above] traumatos ek pronoias), the use of nontechnical language is conﬁned to the corresponding behaviour.30 Similarly at Dem. 18.123, there is almost a deliberate refusal to use the technical term kake¯goria when drawing a distinction between abusive but non-actionable public criticism and proper legal process, even though the play on words could have been more effective if the term had been used.31 It is consistent with this picture that kake¯goria is found ﬁve times in Lys. 10 and loidoria and cognates not at all (contrast p. 593 above).32 On this basis, it is tempting to suggest that Philokleon’s claim to have convicted his hypothetical opponent the runner Phayllos of loidoria (i.e. not kake¯goria: Aristoph. Wasps, 1206–7, cf. this page, n. 29) might itself be a subversion of legal terminology, designed to suggest that the speaker is not as knowledgeable as he claims to be. There is general agreement among scholars that not every form of verbal insult was punishable at Athens, but only those committed against the dead, those committed against the memory of the tyrannicides Harmodios and Aristogeiton, 28 The law relating to the defamation speciﬁcally of public ofﬁcials is discussed at pp. 592–593 above, not least because the term kake¯goria and its cognates are not used in that speech (it is used in Dem. 21.33, but only by way of contrast when describing those who insult private citizens). 29 Thus Halliwell (1991: 50 n. 8), against Lipsius. The latter does maintain that in general kake¯gorein is used of actionable slander while loidorein and blasphe¯mein include non-actionable insults, but himself believes that Dem. 54.18 and Aristoph. Wasps, 1207—both discussed below—show that the distinction was not ﬁrmly maintained (Lipsius 1905–15: 649 with n. 50). In support of his view, Halliwell cites also the slippage in Plato’s Laws from the initial proclamation that ‘there is to be a single law about kake¯goria in all matters: let nobody kake¯gorein anybody’ (934e2–4) to the draft law ‘if anybody engages in loidoria. . .’ (935c3), but his claim that this is ‘probably echoing Solonian law’ seems far-fetched. 30 Dem. 54.19: to ensure that people should not be led on from loidoriai (not kake¯goriai) to ple¯gai (‘blows’, but not aikeia) to traumata (the sole use here of the legal term) to thanatos (‘killing’, but not phonos). Cf. Dem. 54.18, where the verbs used to denote the behaviours are: loidoreisthai (‘use abusive language’), tuptein (‘to hit’), and titro¯skesthai (‘to be wounded’). 31 Dem. 18.123: γ< λοιδοραν κατηγορα το$τ διαφ ρειν Gγο'µαι: ‘I believe that the distinction between loidoria and kate¯goria (accusation)’, rather than ‘between kake¯goria and kate¯goria’. Cf. Dem.’s use in the following sentence of τα2π*ρρητα to mean ‘secrets’ rather than ‘legally prohibited defamatory words’ (for which see below), as if playing with the non-use of technical terms. 32 The phrases kako¯s lego¯ and kako¯s akouo¯, by contrast, which are particularly prominent in nonlegal contexts in Lys. 8 but are not found in Lys. 9 (cf. p. 593 above), appear on ﬁve occasions in the current speech (§11, §13 twice, §26, §28, and cf. also 11.8): to avoid confusion, they are rendered in my translation of this speech as ‘to (be) malign(ed)’.

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those committed against public ofﬁcials, those committed in speciﬁed public places,33 or—as in the present case—those involving the use of speciﬁc allegations (aporrhe¯ta or ‘words that must not be mentioned’, §2, §6, §8, on which cf. further pp. 634–635 below). Gernet (1958: 4), followed by Mélèze-Modrzejewski (1997: 160), raises the question of whether what we have here is a series of offences or one delict with multiple facets, tending towards the latter view. This is possible, though as we have seen, it may be signiﬁcant that kake¯goria and its cognates are not used in Lys. 9 in the context of allegedly actionable insults to a public ofﬁcial (cf. p. 632 n. 28 above). One point of particular interest concerns the penalty faced by Theomnestos if convicted. As we saw at p. 593 above, Plutarch cannot always be relied on as an unconﬁrmed source for the laws of Solon, and it certainly needs to be acknowledged that his summary of Solonian defamation law deals only with insults to the dead and insults in public places, making no mention of the aporrhe¯ta. Subject to these reservations, however, it is worth noting Plutarch’s claim that Solon imposed a penalty of three drachmas to the individual insulted, and a further two drachmas to the treasury (de¯mosion).34 We are told at §12 of the present speech that the legal penalty for claiming that a man had thrown away his shield was a payment of 500 drachmas, and the same ﬁgure is applied generically to ‘any of the aporrhe¯ta’ in Isokrates’ near-contemporary speech Against Lokhites (Isok. 20.3). Some scholars have used this evidence, together with several more fragmentary texts, to suggest that the penalty had simply been increased by a factor of one hundred in the period since Solon, and that his putative division between compensation to the individual and ﬁne to the treasury will still have applied.35 If this reconstruction is correct, and if it can be used to support

33 For the question of whether insults to public ofﬁcials were punishable only if committed in speciﬁed public places or occasions (Plut. Solon, 21.2, lists sanctuaries, law courts, arkheia [probably the ofﬁces of public ofﬁcials] and festivals), see pp. 593 with n. 45 above. It is clear from §1 that there was no concept of absolute privilege protecting speakers against charges of defamation for anything said during judicial or the equivalent of parliamentary proceedings (as applies in English law), and there seems now to be general consensus that statements made in the comic theatre did not enjoy any formal legal privilege either: see the discussion of Aristophanes on Kleonymos at §1n. 34 Plut. Solon, 21.2: it is not in context clear whether he means this to apply only to insults delivered in public places (as in the immediately preceding sentence) or to all forms of actionable slander. 35 The key passage is Lex.Cant. s.v. kake¯gorias dike¯, which deals with insults to the dead, but the text as printed by Lipsius (1905–15: 650 n. 4) entails two emendations: πεντακοσα καταδικασθε oφλε, τ δηµοσ <διακοσα>, τριακοσα (for τρια´κοντα) δ& τ δι=τb (i.e. ‘he shall on conviction owe 500 drachmas, 200 to the treasury and 300 to the individual’ in place of the manuscript reading ‘he shall on conviction owe 500 drachmas to the treasury and 30 to the individual’). The Lex.Cant. goes on to cite Hypereides’ lost Prosecution Speech Against Dorotheos as evidence for a penalty of 1,000 drachmas for insulting the dead, which Sommerstein (2004: 207 with n. 14) has sought to explain as an attempt in the third quarter of the 4th century to give the law ‘sharper teeth’. A 1,000-drachma penalty is also mentioned by Dem. 21.88, but this could in context relate to the double insult to Demosthenes’ mother and his sister (thus Lipsius 1905–15: 651 n. 56 and MacDowell 1990: 300).

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Plutarch’s evidence, it would make defamation one of the few areas of Athenian law to show a clear distinction between ﬁne and compensation.36 It is implied at §2 that there was a ﬁnite list of aporrhe¯ta (allegations that were legally actionable), and several of the listed items can be deduced from elsewhere in the speech: speciﬁcally androphonos (lit. ‘man-slayer’, §6),37 patraloias or me¯traloias (‘father-beater’ or ‘mother-beater’, §8), and apobeble¯kenai (‘to have thrown away [sc. one’s shield]’, §9). We have evidence from the mid-340s for at least one additional aporrhe¯ton, that of ‘working in the Agora’, but Wallace (1994: 117) notes that the passage in question speaks of ‘being liable for kake¯goria’ as if this were an existing offence, from which he infers that the list of aporrhe¯ta may have been added to over time, so that we cannot determine whether this allegation would have been actionable at the time of Lys. 10.38 Whether or not it is complete, Lysias’ list is an interesting one, not least because it is easy to think of potentially other more insulting allegations which were not apparently actionable: for instance, the repeated assertions made by opponents that Demosthenes was a half-bred Skythian. Following a detailed discussion of previous theories, Wallace (1994: 119–120) proposes a link with the dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n (on which see 10.1n), suggesting that this created a particular need for protection against false allegations because of its capacity to destroy political opponents. This is possible, but as Wallace notes, it is unclear whether homicide was covered by the dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n, and this procedure certainly covered several forms of behaviour which are not attested among the aporrhe¯ta (e.g. other evasions of military service or maltreatment of parents, having been a male prostitute, or squandering one’s inheritance). The question of how far the falseness of the allegation lay at the root of the idea of aporrhe¯ta is itself an interesting one. In a previous study of this speech (Todd 1993: 260), I made the mistake of suggesting that ‘truth’ might not have been admissible as a defence in cases of defamation at Athens, failing to spot the clear statement to the contrary at §30, and similarly at Dem. 23.50. But as Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 142) have pointed out, the use of the term aporrhe¯ta (like the Latin nefanda), is easiest to understand if it originally conveyed the quasimagical or quasi-religious sense that these were words which it was somehow inappropriate to utter whether or not they were true. And certainly it is hard to conceive of ‘truth’ being admitted at any date as a defence of the allegation of 36 MacDowell (1978: 257), who notes that the Greek language has no separate words to distinguish the two ideas, suggests that the distinction may have applied in cases involving violence, but does not give details. 37 For the question of whether this signiﬁes ‘killer’ or ‘convicted murderer’, see 10.7n. 38 Dem. 57.30: . . .τοZ ν*µου, οw κελε$ουσιν -νοχον εjναι τ^ κακηγορS τ ν τDν ργασαν τDν ν τ^ α2γορa e τν πολιτν e τν πολιτδων @νειδζοντα´ τινι, ‘the laws order that anybody who reproaches any male or female citizen with working in the Agora shall be liable for kake¯goria’ (enokhos is frequently used where a new category of offender is added to those liable to an existing penalty, as at Ant. 5.9, Andok. 1.79, and Dem. 18.38). It is possible though less certain that the use on the one hand of nouns (androphonos and patraloias/me¯traloias) and on the other hand of an accusative and inﬁnitive phrase ([aspida] apobeble¯kenai) implies an already composite list: on the signiﬁcance of this difference in phrasing, see p. 635 with n. 41 below.

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‘working in the Agora’,39 since the point of making this allegation actionable is presumably to guard against the social tensions which would be created by gratuitous insults aimed precisely against those citizens who could be portrayed as having to earn their living. It is perhaps some lingering sense of aporrhe¯ta as words of ill-omen that encouraged Theomnestos to claim before the arbitrator (§6) that the law prohibited only the use of speciﬁc terminology, and that what he had said was not therefore actionable because he had not used any of the banned words. Rebuttal of this defence is the key item in Lysias’ speech for the prosecution, since it allows him to ﬁll nearly half the speech (§§6–20) with one of the very few extended examples of juristic thinking in the Orators, and certainly the only one in Lysias, viz. that it is a fundamental principle of statutory interpretation that words should be taken to include their synonyms.40 Whether this was indeed the basis of Theomnestos’ defence is hard to determine (a point to which we shall shortly turn), and it is difﬁcult also to be sure whether the law itself was clear on this point. Modern scholars have tended to regard the argument attributed to Theomnestos as self-evidently fallacious, but Athenian laws do not generally specify how they are to be interpreted, and although Carey argues that the law may have been worded in such a way as to suggest that its intention was to discourage certain types of insult rather than the use of speciﬁc terms,41 there was at Athens no system of case-law or jurisprudence whereby an interpretation could be authoritatively established. Certainly the fact that Lysias argues his rebuttal on the basis of analogy and at such great length could be taken to suggest that the point will have been a new one for the jury.

IV. FORENSIC STRATEGY Whether Theomnestos’ narrow reading of the aporrhe¯ta so as to exclude synonyms was indeed fundamental to his defence is hard to determine, since we only have Lysias’ client’s side of the story. It has for instance been argued by Frohberger that the defence was much more subtle than this, since he believes that the legally prohibited term androphonos signiﬁes not ‘killer’ but ‘convicted murderer’: on this premise, the point Theomnestos would be making was not that 39

This point is well made by Szanto (1891: 161). Glotz (1899: 790) seeks to link this aporrhe¯ton with the graphe¯ argias (public prosecution for ‘idleness’), but the latter seems to be associated with a failure properly to manage one’s estates. 40 The Orators do on occasions offer systematic discussions of broad areas of law which are only peripherally relevant to the issue under dispute (cf. for instance the extended analysis of atimia at Andok. 1.73–76, or on a still larger scale the survey of the different Athenian homicide courts at Dem. 23.65–81), but neither of these passages is concerned to establish a theory of legal argument in the way that is done in Lys. 10. 41 Carey (1999: 376 n. 10), noting in particular the grammatical variation in terminology to which attention has been drawn at p. 634 n. 38 above.

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he had used a synonym rather than the actionable word itself, but rather that the phrase he had used did not carry the same slanderous imputation. For problems with this view, however, see 10.7n. An alternative interpretation is that Theomnestos intended it as a throw-away remark, but that the prosecution spotted the chance of a reductio ad absurdum and seized on it for all-out assault.42 Certainly the argument at §§6–20 allows Lysias’ client to adopt a tone and persona which is highly unusual in our speeches. Normally the Orators are extremely careful not to sound as if they possess expert legal knowledge,43 because of the risk that the jury will regard this as patronising. Here however the didactic tone is directed consistently and successfully against the defendant alone. Theomnestos is addressed repeatedly, with the vocative being used on three occasions (§8, §16, §18, which is more often than in any other speech in the corpus, cf. 6.49n). He is the direct addressee of a highly sarcastic series of hypotheses and rhetorical questions at §§8–10. He is repeatedly and explicitly described as stupid (§14 α2νοτω, §15 σκαι*).44 Perhaps most interesting is the allegation that Theomnestos’ alleged lack of acquaintance with the detailed procedure of the Areiopagos is a sign of his laziness and lack of moral ﬁbre (§11 (Sθυµα κα µαλακα): this is at ﬁrst sight surprising, given the frequently positive connotations of apragmosune¯, but may have been a particularly well-aimed thrust if Theomnestos was indeed seeking to embark on a political career.45 This is a high-proﬁle and high-risk strategy, but it leads to powerful characterisation both of Theomnestos and of the speaker himself.46 Among the elements in the speaker’s display of legal erudition is a sequence of laws attributed to Solon, extracts from which are cited at §§16–19 to illustrate the principle that obsolete terms in archaic statutes can nevertheless be understood to

42 The possibility that the laws cited at §§16–19 will have had to be included among documents sealed at the end of the arbitration is noted at p. 631 with n. 27 above. To explain how the prosecution might have had the necessary foresight to produce them at this stage, we would presumably need to assume that Theomnestos’ remark was made at a fairly early stage in an arbitration process lasting longer than a single day, and perhaps also that Lysias was already involved as the speaker’s potential logographos. Since the prosecutor will have spoken ﬁrst at the trial, it may not have mattered too much if Theomnestos by the end of the arbitration had gained some inkling of the strategy that Lysias was intending to adopt at the trial, though obviously the less he guessed, the better. 43 For denial of legal expertise, see e.g. Hyp. Athenog. §13, where the speaker claims that it is his opponent’s clever trickery (deinote¯s) which has forced him to study the law night and day. For an extended attack on the legal expertise of an opponent, see Lys. 30 with Todd (1996). The attribution of legal skill to Theomnestos in the present speech (§9 µεµελ τηκα) is in context highly sarcastic, cf. below. 44 ‘Ein Dummkopf ersten Ranges’ (Hillgruber 1988: 20). 45 Some level of political ambition can be inferred from Theomnestos’ having attempted to speak in the Assembly (§1). The possibility that Lysitheos might have been trying to block the start of Theomnestos’ political career by bringing up an old allegation of military cowardice is explored at 10.25n. For apragmosune¯ (‘minding one’s own business’) as political quietism, see Carter (1986), with reservations noted at p. 480 n. 18 above. 46 It is perhaps worth noting that this is a speech which makes more use of rhetorical ﬁgures and sustains the grand style more than is typical of Lysias: details in Usher (1965: 113).

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signify their contemporary synonyms. This section of the speech is of particular interest to legal historians because of the material that it preserves. Ruschenbusch (1958: 404–405), for instance, argues that it is in speeches written after 356 bc that we ﬁnd the tendency to attribute any established Athenian law to Solon by name, which he sees as the result of the propaganda of writers such as the Atthidographer Kleidemos in the mid fourth century: on this basis, he is inclined to view the attribution of laws to Solon in earlier texts as prima facie reliable. This is possible, but there is evidence that the activities of the founding father(s) of the Athenian state had already been contested in political propaganda as early as the oligarchic revolution of 411 (Finley 1986: 34–59), and we know from Lys. 30 and related epigraphic texts that the period immediately before and after 403 saw a process in which laws were at least reinscribed in modiﬁed form and possibly codiﬁed (Todd 1996, with refs.). On the basis of the argument at §16 about the Eleven being accused in a hypothetical future case of misinterpreting the law that has been cited, it has indeed been argued by Hillgruber (1988: 65–66) that the citations are not from the axones containing the original texts of Solon’s laws, but from his laws as incorporated in the putative codiﬁcation of 403: if so, then of course they cannot be regarded as unmediated evidence for the wording of sixth-century legislation.

V. LINKS OUTSIDE THE SPEECH: LEON OF SALAMIS (?), ERATOSTHENES (?), AND LYS. 11 It was noted at p. 628 n. 13 above that none of those named in this speech can be identiﬁed with certainty, but a possible identiﬁcation has been proposed for the speaker’s father. This is based partly on the claim that the latter had served ‘on many occasions’ (πολλα´κι, i.e. more than once, §27) as an Athenian General before his execution under the Thirty (§4, §27), but partly also on the fact that the elder brother either of the speaker’s father or more probably of the speaker himself was named Pantaleon (see 10.5n). There is a tendency within Athenian families for names to share lexical stems, and several scholars have suggested on this basis that the speaker’s father might have been Leon of Salamis, one of the Thirty’s most prominent victims,47 who despite the fact that Salamis is not an Athenian demotic was almost certainly a citizen,48 and who therefore would be

47 Theramenes’ speech in Xen. Hell. 2.3.39 cites his execution alongside those of Nikeratos (son of Nikias) and of Antiphon (wealthy father of the epikle¯ros who forms the subject of Lys. frag. sp. XII). 48 Thus McCoy (1975: 196 n. 45), noting the conjunction between Sokrates’ description of how he refused the Thirty’s order to join the posse sent to Salamis to arrest Leon (Plato, Apology, 32c4–9) and the account evidently of the same event in Plato’s Seventh Letter (324e2–3), describing his disenchantment when Sokrates was sent to arrest ‘one of the citizens’.

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eligible to be identiﬁed with one or more of various Athenian Generals named Leon who are known from this period.49 The identiﬁcation of Leon as the speaker’s father is by no means conclusively established, but deserves to be considered in conjunction with a second possible identiﬁcation, since together they would add a certain frisson to Andokides’ claim in On the Mysteries (Andok. 1.94) that his opponent Meletos had arrested Leon under the Thirty but can no longer be prosecuted for this.50 We have already noted (refs. at p. 409 above) the suggestion that Meletos the prosecutor of Andokides, probably in 400/399, may be the same person as Meletos the prosecutor of Sokrates in 400/399; if accepted, this would lend weight to Plato’s account of Sokrates’ refusal to join in arresting Leon (Apology, 32c4–9, cited above), making it a coded criticism of Meletos’ own behaviour. Less attention has been paid by scholars, however, to the possible implications of Andokides’ statement that Leon’s sons cannot prosecute Meletos for their father’s death. At §31 of the present speech, the speaker asserts that he alone had prosecuted the Thirty before the Areiopagos—i.e. presumably for the deliberate killing of an Athenian citizen, and presumably also without success, since he does not claim this—immediately on coming of age, which will have occurred at 18 years, and thus in either 398/7 or possibly 399/8.51 If Pantaleon and the speaker are Leon’s two sons, and if it is the case (as suggested at 10.4n) that the speaker had had some accidental complicity in his father’s arrest, this might help explain not just Andokides’ gibe about Meletos but also why the speaker (rather than Pantaleon) might have been determined to use judicial process to attribute responsibility to the Thirty. The claim at §31 to have prosecuted the Thirty, however, is itself very hard to interpret. Particularly problematic is the mention speciﬁcally of the Areiopagos, at least if one accepts the standard interpretation of Ath.Pol. 57.3, which includes bouleusis (lit. ‘planning’, presumably denoting killings carried out through the agency of a third party) among categories of homicide heard by the Palladion. If this includes all third-party killings (as argued persuasively by MacDowell 1963: 49 Andrewes & Lewis (1957: 179) list ﬁve individuals named Leon, of whom they propose to identify three with Leon of Salamis: (a) the colleague of Diomedon as General in 412/1 (Thuc. 8.23, etc.); (b) the General under whom the brother of the speaker of Lys. 20.29 served in the Hellespont at some stage before c.409; (c) the General named twice in Xenophon’s account of 406/5 (Hell. 1.5.16 and 1.6.16), but who disappears from his narrative before the battle of Arginousai. The initial presence of Leon in Xenophon’s account is sometimes regarded as textual error (thus Develin 1989: 179, but it seems unlikely that Xenophon would make the same mistake twice), while other scholars interpret his disappearance by suggesting that he was on the one of the two ships sent by Konon to escape the blockade of Mytilene that was captured by the Spartans (thus Ostwald 1986: 432 n. 86, noting that Erasinides his fellow-General fought at Arginousai and so must have been on the one that escaped). If the latter hypothesis is accepted, however, identiﬁcation with the speaker’s father would seem unlikely, because of the claim at §27 that the latter never fell into the hands of the enemy. 50 Presumably because of the Amnesty, though Andokides speaks rather misleadingly of this being the result of a general process of legal reform: for this interpretation of Andokides’ argument, see Todd (1996: 126–127). 51 The date is inferred from his having been aged thirteen in either 403/2 or 404/3 (see p. 625 above).

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64–69), then any accusation against the Thirty before the Areiopagos would have had to be based on the exceedingly improbable claim that they had themselves carried out their killings in person.52 Scholars have tended to bypass this problem, and to take as a starting-point the statement at Lys. 12.54 that, apart from Eratosthenes (the defendant in that trial), the only member of the Thirty to remain in Athens after their deposition was Pheidon, who became a member of the Ten. On the assumption that a claim to have prosecuted ‘the Thirty’ is best understood as referring to a plurality of defendants, they have inferred that it must denote an otherwise unattested prosecution of Eratosthenes as well as Pheidon in or after 399, and have therefore concluded that the former must have survived Lys. 12’s previous attack on him.53 But to describe two members of the former régime as ‘the Thirty’ is as far-fetched as it is to describe one member, so this passage has no value as evidence for the result of Lys. 12. There is the additional problem that to have remained in Athens after the democratic restoration, former members of the Thirty like Eratosthenes and Pheidon will have had to pass their euthunai or judicial accounting for ofﬁce in 403/2 (which is indeed the traditional context for Lys. 12),54 and that on doing so they will have acquired the full beneﬁts of the Amnesty, protecting them against prosecution for indirect killings including judicial murders committed during the Thirty’s reign of terror, so that even an unsuccessful prosecution initiated by the speaker four or more years later will have constituted a prima facie breach of the Amnesty, unless he could prove that they had killed autokheiriai (with their own hands).55 On this basis, I am therefore tempted to revive a hypothesis that was suggested only to be dismissed by Rauchenstein (1855: 594) that what is alluded to at §31 might have been a prosecution directed against absentee defendants. Although I can cite no direct parallel for such a charge being brought before the Areiopagos, 52 For an alternative reading of bouleusis at Ath.Pol. 57.3, arguing that it signiﬁes only the planning of unintentional killings, leaving intentional such killings to be heard by the Areiopagos, see Gagarin (1990). 53 For example, Frohberger & Thalheim (1895: 19–20), Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 229–230), Jebb (1893 [1876].i: 292), Cloché (1915: 327), and Fernández-Galiano (1953: 191). The possibility that the passage could signify the prosecution of an individual is discussed by Hillgruber (1988: 102). Usher (in Edwards & Usher 1985: 235) suggests that it might include adherents, but it is hard to see how ‘the Thirty’ could mean this. 54 Loening’s alternative interpretation of the autobiographical speeches is discussed at pp. 14–16 above. 55 This point is noted brieﬂy by Albini (1955: 419–420 n. 13) and by Medda (1989–95.i: 297 n. 18). For the relevant clauses of the Amnesty, see Ath.Pol. 39.5 (prosecution for killings unaffected by the agreement only if committed with one’s own hands), and Ath.Pol. 39.6 (members of régime to acquire Amnesty’s protection on successful completion of euthunai). Loening (1981: 286 with n. 18), who wishes to read Lys. 12 as a dike¯ phonou subsequent to Eratosthenes’ euthunai, attempts to argue that this would not have breached the Amnesty, but his use of Lys. 13.85–87 as evidence for possible extension of the autokheiriai clause reveals precisely that no such argument is put forward in Lys. 12. In addition, there are repeated references to dikastai as the audience of Lys. 12 (§§1, 3, 11, 34, 36, 49, 71, 74), which would be odd usage in Lysias for a homicide court (see 1.1n).

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nevertheless conventional interpretations of the court at Phreatto (MacDowell 1963: 82–84) imply that homicide prosecutions could be initiated against a defendant already in exile for another killing, and there is evidence elsewhere that prosecutions could be brought even after the defendant’s death.56 Rauchenstein himself dismissed his own hypothesis on the grounds there would be no point in bringing proceedings for contumacy against defendants whose self-exile had left them as outlaws, which will in effect have been their status after the fall of Eleusis in 401/0. But he did not consider the possibility suggested at p. 638 above that the speaker (unlike Pantaleon) might have overriding personal reasons for wishing formally to appear as avenger of his father’s death. With a very few exceptions,57 there is almost universal acceptance that Lys. 11 is an epitome of Lys. 10: this indeed is the only speech in the Orators that is generally agreed to be an epitome, so that in the nineteenth century it tended to attract interest primarily as a model for the evaluation of other such claims, to determine the sorts of things that an epitomiser might be interested in retaining and those sections of a speech that he might omit;58 or occasionally—since the paraphrase is on occasions very close—as the basis from which to correct textual corruption in the main speech (most notably the speaker’s age at 10.4). Since Harpokration, working in the second century ad, regularly describes Lys. 10 as the (only) speech Against Theomnestos (details at p. 627 n. 10 above), it was generally agreed that Lys. 11 must therefore have been composed after this date (thus e.g. Blass 1887 [1868]: 601). This view however has had to be modiﬁed in the light of the 1966 publication of the P.Oxy. 2537 hypotheses, since these show the acceptance of Lys. 11 as part of the corpus within a very few years of this date.59 Harpokration’s failure to cite from Lys. 11 is not in itself surprising, since all but one of his citations are taken from the discussion of obsolete legal terms at 10.16– 19, which is omitted from the epitome (the exception is aporrhe¯ta, used at e.g. 10.6 and at 11.3). But, unless his silence about the existence of a second speech is the result of carelessness, it may suggest that the corpus represented by the papyrus and reﬂected in the Palatinus manuscript was not uncontroversial.60 56 Dem. 52.17, albeit for debt, in which the defendant’s heir took on his obligations, rather than for homicide. 57 The most recent to my knowledge is Darkow (1917: 50–52), who gives earlier refs. 58 For late-19th-cent. epitome theory, see p. 541 with n. 1 above. Omissions in Lys. 11 include 10.2–3, 10.11–12a, 10.24–25 and 10.29, but by far the most substantial is 10.12b-20 (i.e. the totality of the juristic argument from analogy and the citations of obsolete legal terms which so interested Harpokration, cf. below). Otherwise there is very considerable variation in the closeness of the paraphrase, as is highlighted in the otherwise brief discussion in the Commentary to Lys. 11. 59 The papyrus is dated palaeographically to the late 2nd or early 3rd cent. ad, which has implications for the reception in the corpus also of Lys. 8 (see p. 546 above). 60 Compare the comments at p. 25 above about the rôle of competing ancient collections in the formation of the corpus. It is perhaps worth noting the possibility (for which see frag. sp. LXV) that the speech in the last two columns of the largest fragment of P.Oxy. 1606, which is clearly a different prosecution but relates to a defendant of the same name, will have carried the same title: if so, this would complicate our interpretation of Harpokration’s position still further.

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κακηγορίας δ´· κα[τὰ Θεοµνήστου α´ β´· Θ ε*µν η στο ν δικ.[α]σ.τ.η.ρ..ω . .. . <ι> εjπ.ε[ν τον κατηγορο'ντ.α /.αυτο'. τ ν πα.τ.[ ]ρα. α2πεκτον .[ναι φη . σ. δ2 K κατ.η..γορν τρ.ισκαιδεκ[ τη Aν τDν Gλικαν πρ εκοσαετα 9.τ.ε K πατDρ. [7π τν τρια´κοντα α2π θανεν. τα` µ ντοι τν .[τν το]'. [υ!ο' κα

το' πατρ ατο' ο [σ]υµφων.ε; .ν α2µ.[φοτ ροι λ*γο.ι. {α}ν µ&ν γα`ρ το$τω<ι> K νεανα τρι.[σκαδεκα τν στν, K δ.&. πατDρ ατο' /ξκοντα [/πτα´, ν δ& τι /ξ8 K µ&ν [τν] δ.[ε]κ.α´δυο, K δ& /βδοµ[κοντα· 8 de α2πεκτον [ναι παραν*µω cogitabat ed. pr.

10 Prosecution against Theomnestos, First Speech Hypothesis to Lysias 10–11 (P.Oxy. 2537 = frag. 308 Carey, recto lines 6–15) [line 6] Kake¯goria (defamation): four speeches. Prosecution against [Theomnestos, speeches 1 and 2]: [7–8] Theomnestos stated in the court-room that [the prosecutor] had killed his own father [? in an adverbial fashion]. [9–11] But the accuser says that he had been thirteen [years old] twenty years previously when his father had been killed [by the Thir]ty. [11–13] However, what is said about the ages of the son and of his father in the t[wo speech]es does not correspond: [13–15] in this speech the young man is thir[teen] years old and the father sixty [seven, while in the] following speech he is twelve [years] and the other man is sev[enty].

The Speech [1] I do not think I will face a shortage of witnesses, gentlemen of the jury. For I can see that many of you judging this case were among those present on the occasion when Lysitheos brought an eisangelia1 against Theomnestos, on the grounds that he was speaking in public when it was not permissible for him to do so because he had thrown away his shield. It was during that litigation that he asserted that I had killed my own father. [2] If he had accused me of killing his father, I would have forgiven him for that statement, because I regarded him as insigniﬁcant and not worthy of attention. Nor would I have taken proceedings against him if I had been called any other of the aporrhe¯ta, because I believe that to prosecute for defamation is petty and over-litigious. [3] As it is, however, it seems to me shameful 1

But see Commentary.

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in the case of my father, who has deserved so much at the hands of yourselves and of the polis, not to punish the one who made that statement; and I want to ﬁnd out from you whether he is going to pay the penalty, or whether a special privilege is granted to this man alone of the Athenians to do and say against the laws whatever he wishes. [4] I am thirty-two years old, gentlemen of the jury, and this is now the twentieth year since you returned from exile. So it is clear that I was aged thirteen when my father was killed by the Thirty. At that age I did not know what an oligarchy was, and I would not have been able to assist him when he was wronged. [5] Nor could I plausibly have been plotting against him for the sake of money, for Pantaleon the elder brother took control of everything, and after becoming guardian he deprived us of the inheritance. For many reasons, therefore, gentlemen of the jury, it suits me to wish him alive. It is necessary for me to remind you about that, but there is no need for many words, for virtually all of you know that I am telling the truth. However, I shall produce witnesses about these facts. WITNESSES [6] Perhaps, gentlemen of the jury, he will make no defence on these points, but will say to you what he dared to claim in front of the arbitrator as well, that it is not one of the aporrhe¯ta if somebody says that I have killed my father, on the grounds that the law does not forbid this, but bans people from saying ‘androphonos’. [7] But in my view, gentlemen of the jury, we are arguing not about words but about their

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meaning, and that everybody recognises that all those <who have killed people are also androphonoi, and all those> who are androphonoi have also killed people. It would have been a considerable task for the lawgiver to mention all the words which have the same meaning. Instead, by talking about one of them, he made clear his views about them all. [8] For I can hardly imagine, Theomnestos, that if somebody called you patraloias or me¯traloias, you would believe that he ought to lose his case against you; but that if somebody said you hit the woman or the man who gave you birth, you would think he should go unpunished, on the grounds that he had not spoken any of the aporrhe¯ta. [9] I would gladly learn from you (for you are skilled and experienced in this matter, both in action and in speech): if somebody claimed that you had discarded your shield—it says in the law, ‘if anybody says that a person has thrown away, let him be liable to prosecution’—would you not prosecute him? Would it instead be satisfactory for you to have discarded your shield, saying that this was no concern of yours, for discarding and throwing away are not the same thing? [10] Nor presumably, assuming you became one of the Eleven, if one person arrested another by apago¯ge¯, claiming that the latter had pulled off his cloak or stripped him of his tunic, would you accept it, but presumably release him on the same principle, because he was not identiﬁed as a lo¯podute¯s? Nor, if somebody were caught abducting a child, would you describe him as an andrapodiste¯s, if you are going to squabble about words, rather than giving your attention to the things for which everybody uses the words. [11] Please consider the matter further, gentlemen

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of the jury, because it seems to me that this man here, out of laziness and a lack of moral ﬁbre, has not even climbed up onto the Areiopagos hill. Everybody knows that there, when they judge homicide cases, they do not construct the dio¯mosiai using this word, but using the one with which I have been maligned. The plaintiff swears in his dio¯mosia that his opponent has killed, and the defendant that he has not killed. [12] Would it not be ridiculous for them to acquit a man who had committed murder and who admits that he is an androphonos, simply because the plaintiff swore in his dio¯mosia that the defendant had ‘killed’? In what respect do these things differ from what this man will say? You yourself prosecuted Theon for defamation, for saying that you had discarded your shield. And yet in the law nothing is said about ‘discarding’, but it orders that if anybody says that a person has thrown away his shield, he shall be liable to pay ﬁve hundred drachmas. [13] Is it not extraordinary that when you are maligned and need to get revenge on your enemies, you interpret the laws in the same way as I am now doing, but that when you malign somebody else unlawfully, you do not believe that you should pay the penalty? Are you so skilful that you can manipulate the laws in whatever fashion you choose, or are you so powerful that you think those who are wronged by you will never achieve redress? [14] Are you not ashamed to be so stupid that you think it necessary to claim an advantage not because of any good that you have done for the polis, but because of crimes for which you have not paid the penalty? Please read the law for me. LAW [15] I think you all realise that I am speaking the truth, gentlemen of the jury, but that this man is so dull that he is not able to understand what is being said. So I would like

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to teach him about this on the basis of other laws as well, in the hope that he may receive an education now at any rate on the speaker’s rostrum, and may not cause us trouble in future. Please read for me those ancient laws of Solon. [16] LAW: ‘. . . Let him be conﬁned by his foot for ten days in the podokakke¯, if the He¯liaia shall impose this penalty . . .’ This ‘podokakke¯’, Theomnestos, is what is now called ‘being conﬁned in the stocks’. If somebody who had been conﬁned were after his release to accuse the Eleven at their euthunai on the grounds that they had conﬁned him not in the podokakke¯ but in the stocks, they would presumably regard him as an idiot. Please read another law. [17] LAW: ‘. . . After swearing an oath by Apollo, let him give security. If he is afraid on account of justice, let him abscond . . .’ This word ‘epiorke¯santa’ means ‘swearing’, and ‘draskazein’ is what we call ‘to run away’. ‘. . . Whoever debars by means of the door while the thief is inside . . .’ This word ‘apillein’ is interpreted as ‘to shut out’, so please do not disagree about that.

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[18] ‘. . . Money is to be placed on the basis of whatever amount the lender wishes . . .’ This word ‘stasimon’, my good man, does not mean ‘put on a balance’, but to lend out as interest, at whatever rate one wishes. Please read also the ﬁnal part of this law. [19] ‘. . . All those women who go abroad overtly . . .’ and ‘. . . let it be permitted to owe the damage of an oikeus and of a doule¯ . . .’ Pay attention: ‘pephasmeno¯s’ is ‘in public’, ‘po¯leisthai’ is ‘walk around’, and ‘oike¯os’ is ‘of a domestic slave’. [20] There are many other examples of this type, gentlemen of the jury. If he is not made of iron, I suspect that he has begun to realise that objects are the same now as in the past, but that we do not use some of the same names now as previously. He will make this clear, because he will leave the speaker’s rostrum and go away in silence. [21] If not, gentlemen of the jury, I beg you to cast your votes in accordance with justice, bearing in mind that it is far worse to be described as having killed one’s father than as having thrown away one’s shield. I

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myself would prefer to have discarded every shield than to have such an attitude towards my father. [22] Although this man was liable to the charge, and the disaster which faced him was comparatively minor, he did not simply receive pity at your hands, but also caused the former witness to lose his civic rights. I, on the other hand, have seen this man commit the action which you also know about, and have kept my own shield unscathed, and have been accused of so unlawful and terrible a crime, and the disaster that faces me if he is acquitted is very great, whereas for this man it is not worthy of any attention if he is convicted of defamation. Shall I not therefore exact a penalty from him? [23] What accusation has he brought before you against me? Is it because I have been justiﬁably defamed? But not even you yourselves would say that. Or because the defendant is better than I am, and from a better family? But not even he himself would claim that. Or is it that I have thrown away my shield, and am bringing a dike¯ kake¯gorias against somebody who kept his safe? But that is not the story which has scattered itself through the polis. [24] Bear in mind that you have given him that great and beautiful gift: for who in this context would not pity Dionysios, who has met with such a terrible disaster, and has shown himself the noblest of men in the face of danger? [25] As he left the courtroom, he said that we had been engaged in a particularly disastrous campaign, in which many of us had died, and those who had kept their shields had been convicted of false witness by those who threw them away, and it would have been better for him to die on that occasion than to return home and experience such a fate. [26] So do not pity Theomnestos, if he has been described in unﬂattering but ﬁtting terms;

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and again, do not grant forgiveness to a person who commits hubris and who speaks against the laws. For what greater misfortune could befall me than this—to have been the victim of such shameful accusations, in relation to such a father? [27] My father served as General on many occasions, and with you faced many other dangers. He himself never fell into the hands of the enemy, and he never owed any euthune¯ to the citizens. At the age of sixty-seven, he was killed during the oligarchy, because of his goodwill towards your democracy. [28] Is it not right to be angry at the person who has said such things, and to assist my father, on the grounds that he too has been maligned? What more dreadful fate could befall him than to be killed by his enemies and to be reproached by children? Even now, gentlemen of the jury, the memorials of his bravery are hung as dedications in your sanctuaries—whereas those of this man’s and of his father’s weakness are in those of your enemies, to such an extent is their cowardice hereditary. [29] Indeed, gentlemen of the jury, the more impressive and youthful they are in appearance, the more they deserve your anger. It is clear that they are physically powerful, but weak in spirit. [30] I hear, gentlemen of the jury, that he is resorting to the argument that he made this statement out of anger because I had given the same testimony as Dionysios. But you are aware, gentlemen of the jury, that the lawgiver does not offer any indulgence for anger, but he punishes the speaker if the latter does not show that the statement is true. Twice already I have been a witness about this matter, for

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I was not aware that you punish those who do the seeing but grant forgiveness to those who do the throwing away. [31] I do not know what more I need to say about these matters. I ask you to vote to condemn Theomnestos, bearing in mind that no contest could be greater for me than this one. I am prosecuting now for defamation, but in the same vote I am also the defendant on a charge of murdering my father—I, who on my own, as soon as I had passed my dokimasia, brought proceedings against the Thirty in the Areiopagos. [32] Remember this, and come to the assistance of myself, of my father, of the established laws, and of the oaths which you have sworn.

Lysias 10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary P.Oxy. 2537 hypothesis The papyrus is discussed at pp. 545–546 above. For illustrative purposes I have included in my translation the restorations noted in Carey’s apparatus (Lys. frag. 308), using square brackets as an attempt loosely to indicate the scale of these and other conjectures. Line 8: ἐν δικ.[α]σ.τ.η.ρ.ί.ω.<ι> (‘in the court-room’). Heavily restored, but the ﬁrst two letters of the noun leave no credible alternative. It is not entirely clear where Theomnestos’ allegation is envisaged by Lysias as being uttered, whether Lysitheos’ case against him is regarded as an eisangelia or as a dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n (see 10.1n), but on balance a law-court seems the most likely venue. Eisangelia (impeachment) might still at this date take place in the Assembly, but more often before a court. In the case of dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n (scrutiny of orators), the process of epangelia (formal challenge) in such a case would take place in the Assembly at which Theomnestos had evidently attempted to speak (de¯me¯goreo¯, 10.1), but the dokimasia itself would take place in court, and Lysias certainly speaks of the allegation as being made in the course of the ago¯n (10.1), which normally denotes a judicial hearing rather than its preliminaries. Line 8: ἑ.αυτοῦ. (‘his own’). Cf. the emphasis at 10.1 on the killing of ‘my own’ father (τ ν πατ ρα . . . τ ν µαυτο'). Line 9: ? (‘[in an adverbial fashion]’). There needs to be a word of about 10–11 letters to ﬁll the gap at the end of the line. Rea’s paranomo¯s (‘unlawfully’), reported in Carey’s apparatus, is a fraction short, but an adverb seems along the right lines. Line 10: ϕη . σ.ὶ δ̓ ὁ κατ.η..γορῶν (‘but the accuser says’), i.e. the speaker, as the person accusing Theomnestos in the current trial. Line 12: τὰ µέντοι τῶν ἐ.[τῶν (‘however, what is said about the ages’). The remaining four lines of the hypothesis comprise the nearest we get in the papyrus to critical comment, though it is interesting that there is no effort to discuss the juridical argument that forms the basis of the case (§§6–19), nor to mention the various other trials which have already taken place (§12, §22 and §§24–25). Both of the discrepancies mentioned here are found in our manuscripts (10.4 versus 11.2 for the speaker’s age at the time of his father’s death, and 10.27 versus 11.9 for his father’s age). In each case the discrepancy is likely to have been introduced by the

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epitomiser who compiled Lys. 11: this is to assume that in the second case he simply rounded the dead man’s age to the nearest conventional ﬁgure, and that in the ﬁrst case he failed to realise the signiﬁcance of inclusive counting.1 In terms of the textual tradition, however, it is interesting that the hypothesis does not mention any discrepancy over the speaker’s current age: this suggests that the evident textual error at 10.4 (speaker’s current age reported as thirty years rather than thirty-two as at 11.1) had not yet occurred.

§§1–3: Proem A conﬁdent opening, which immediately associates the jury’s experience of previous cases with the interests of the speaker (§1). The tone adopted towards Theomnestos’ probably dead father, as somebody so inferior to the speaker’s own father that he would not consider suing for defamation if accused of having murdered him (§2), is very striking. §1. πολλοὺς γὰρ ὑµῶν ὁρῶ δικάζοντας τῶν τότε παρόντων (‘I can see that many of you judging this case were among those present on the occasion’). Appeals to the jury’s knowledge are a frequent feature in the Orators (the topos occurs in the corpus of Lysias at 4.6, 29.6, 30.2, and cf. 7.30n)—so much so, indeed, that the logographers’ use of the topos ‘τ δ2 οκ οjδεν’ (‘who does not know’) or ‘αmπαντε 1σασιν’ (‘everybody knows’) is discussed in detail by Aristotle.2 There are some variations in its use: Demosthenes for instance tends on the whole to conﬁne the phrase ‘everybody knows’ to matters which genuinely are in the public domain (e.g. the practice of awarding crowns at Dem. 18.94, or Aiskhines’ having initially declined to serve on an embassy at 18.282), with more private matters being covered by the formulation ‘many people know’ (πολλο 1σασιν, as with family matters or the outcome of previous litigation in Dem. 40.9–11 and 57.8),3 but he is when it suits him ready to elide the difference, as when he twice uses the ‘everybody’ form to support his highly tendentious account of Aiskhines’ childhood poverty (Dem. 18.129–130). Explicitly to use the language of witnessing to describe the jury’s function in such contexts is much less common, and the nearest parallels to the present passage are probably Isai. 3.40 (you all know my opponent’s wickedness, so I do not lack witnesses) and Andok. 1.37 (a request for 1 That is, he subtracted 20 from 32, not realising that ‘the twentieth year’ implies the passage of only nineteen. 2 Aristot. Rhet. 3.7.7 = 1408a34–36, who concludes: Kµολογε; γα`ρ K α2κο$ων ασχυν*µενο, 9πω µετ χb ο3περ κα ο! α%λλοι πα´ντε (‘the hearer agrees out of shame, so that he may share in what everybody else does’). His point presumably relates to the internal psychology of each individual, since jurors had no opportunity for formal discussion. (Or is it that they are restrained from shouting out ‘rubbish’?) 3 Cf. the allegedly famous story of Euthynos’ killing of Sophilos, which is introduced with the carefully-nuanced claim that it is known to ‘all or at least many’ (Dem. 21.71). Isaios, by contrast, is perfectly ready to claim that ‘everybody’ knew not simply the war-record of one set of litigants that he is supporting (Isai. 4.27), but also the close relationship between another set and the deceased (Isai. 1.37).

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individual jurors to serve as the speaker’s witnesses in making clear the accuracy of his version to their neighbours).4 Dem. 30.32, by contrast, describes the result of previous litigation as being known to those who served on a previous jury and to many who were bystanders, but nevertheless undertakes to provide witnesses. ὅτε Λυσίθεος Θεόµνηστον εἰσήγγελλε (‘[on the occasion] when Lysitheos brought an eisangelia against Theomnestos’). For the result of this trial (generally thought to be acquittal, though Hillgruber 1988: 2–4 disagrees), and the various names mentioned in this speech, see p. 628 with n. 13 above: neither Theomnestos (the defendant in the current trial also) nor his previous prosecutor Lysitheos is otherwise known. The manuscript reading, which is accepted in Carey’s OCT and by the majority of previous editors, gives the verb here as eisangello¯, which would mean that the procedure used by Lysitheos was eisangelia. In its technical sense of ‘impeachment’, however, this seems inappropriate, since it was a form of prosecution which when deployed against public ﬁgures normally followed the failure of policies with which they had been associated, and there are no attested parallels for its use (as would be required here) at the point where a policy was put forward.5 As is noted again at p. 628, an allegation of military cowardice could have led to immediate prosecution by graphe¯ deilias, but in this case we are told explicitly that Lysitheos’ charge was provoked by Theomnestos’ subsequent attempt (possibly quite some time later) to speak in the Assembly. The procedure that we would expect to ﬁnd used in such a case is the dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n (lit. ‘scrutiny of orators’), whereby a would-be Assembly speaker could be challenged on the grounds that his previous behaviour had rendered him liable to disqualiﬁcation, as in Aiskhines’ prosecution of Timarkhos for being a former male prostitute (Aiskhin. 1), even though the latter had never been convicted of any such offence.6 Since the technical term for the formal challenge that the opponent must defend himself against a dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n was ‘epangelia’,7 Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 144) tentatively suggested emending the verb εσγγελλε into πγγελλε. Linguistic difﬁculties with this proposal were pointed out by Hillgruber (1988: 30–32), who noted that whereas eisangello¯ takes an accusative object of the person accused, we would not expect this with epangello¯, where the idiom is that the challenger promises (an unstated accusative dokimasia) against his (dative) opponent; and this defence of the manuscript text has been accepted

4 Pelling (2000: 30) rightly notes that the subject is a conﬁdential meeting of the Boule¯ some ﬁfteen years previously, and that the number of current jurors who had been present might therefore comprise only four or ﬁve individuals. Other instances of requests to allegedly well-informed jurors to conﬁrm the speaker’s veracity in the hearing of their neighbours are discussed by Dorjahn (1935: 291). 5 Hypereides (Euxen. §§1–3, and cf. Lykoph. §§11–12) complains that the use of eisangelia had become considerably extended by the 320s bc, but there is no hint here of any weakness on that front. 6 For the dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n process, see MacDowell (2005) with response by Gagliardi (2005), and cf. also Todd (2006): the categories listed by Aiskhines as liable to dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n include anybody who has thrown away his shield (τDν α2σπδα α2ποβεβληκ=, Aiskhin. 1.29). 7 For the use of epangello¯ to denote other types of formal challenge also, see 8.3n.

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both by MacDowell and now in Carey’s OCT.8 It is however worth noting that Hillgruber himself regards the use of eisangello¯ here as non-technical, and like many earlier scholars,9 he believes that Lysitheos’ case was juridically a dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n. But parallels for such non-technical use are rare,10 and the passage remains problematic.11 τὰ ὅπλα ἀποβεβληκότα (‘because he had thrown away his shield’). For the terminology, see §9n. The timing of the battle at which Theomnestos might allegedly have done this, and the likelihood of delay between battle and attempt to speak in the Assembly, is discussed at §25n. Failing to retain one’s shield is the paradigmatic act of cowardice in hoplite warfare, both for practical reasons (its heaviness and lack of manoeuvrability makes it the ﬁrst thing to be discarded if retreat turns into rout) and also ideologically (because it was the hoplon rather than the spear that gave rise to the term ‘hoplite’).12 It is clear from the quotation of the law in §9 that this was one of the aporrhe¯ta (allegations which could give rise to an action for slander), and clear also that Lysitheos and perhaps also the speaker, who appears to have testiﬁed on the latter’s behalf (cf. §30n), were therefore potential targets for Theomnestos to bring his own dike¯ kake¯gorias, as noted by Albini (1955: 418 n. 4): hence presumably the care taken throughout the present speech not precisely to repeat the allegation in his own voice (§22n, §25n, §28n) or unambiguously (§9n). Allegations of shield-dropping in Aristophanes, directed particularly against one Kleonymos, are frequent, though they appear to become more oblique in the later plays. Earlier scholars tended to view this as evidence for statutory restrictions on the freedom of comic playwrights to insult public ﬁgures, associating this with the so-called decree of Syrakosios of c.414; the tendency of more recent scholarship, however, is to interpret comic insult in 8 MacDowell (2005: 83 n. 12) suggests that the proposed amendment would have to mean not ‘Lysitheos challenged Theomnestos for speaking’ but ‘Lysitheos ordered Theomnestos to make a speech’. 9 e.g. Frohberger & Thalheim (1892: 152), and Lipsius (1905–15: 178 n. 4, with 279 n. 43). 10 Hillgruber cites the use of eisangello¯ at Lys. 13.50 and 13.56, and possibly at Andok. 1.14 and 1.37, to denote those who have ‘denounced’ without prosecuting, but in each case the activity alleged is itself treasonable. Rhodes, who had previously (1972: 170 n. 1) described eisangello¯ here as ‘clearly incorrect’, notes (1979: 103) that maltreatment of orphans is variously said in Isaios 11 to be subject to graphe¯ or eisangelia kako¯seo¯s orphano¯n, but Lysitheos could hardly have used a graphe¯, so the parallel is not a particularly close one; certainly Harpokration (s.v. εσαγγελα) seems to have regarded this as one of two special types of eisangelia alongside impeachment (the other being the use of the procedure against arbitrators), and I know of no evidence for a wider overlap between eisangelia and graphe¯. 11 It would be tempting to read δηµηγορε;ν as part of some sort of accusative + inﬁnitive construction, along the lines that ‘Lysitheos promised [a dokimasia], viz. that Theomnestos was speaking in the Assembly after throwing away’. But although LSJ does report the use of accusative + inﬁnitive with epangello¯, it seems to conﬁne it to cases that are virtually indirect commands (‘he undertook that the accusative should perform the inﬁnitive’), which is not appropriate here. 12 For an attempt to frame legislation capable of distinguishing between culpable cowardice and legitimate loss, see Plato, Laws, 943d4–945b2, esp. at 944a8–b2 (legitimate loss includes when discarded at sea, presumably by marines in a foundering trireme) and 944b5–c1 (attempting a lexical distinction between the apoboleus who ‘loses’ his shield and the rhipsaspis who ‘discards’ it).

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terms less of legal privilege or legal restrictions, and more of social factors (thus e.g. Halliwell 1991: 70; MacDowell 1995: 25–26; J. J. Henderson 1998: 262; and Sommerstein 2004: 210–211). οὐκ ἐξὸν αὐτῷ (‘when it was not permissible for him to do so’). The accusative absolute exon (lit. ‘it being possible’) tends to be used concessively in the Orators, and in Lysias often denotes that which would have been physically practicable but is regarded as constitutionally improper. Thus, for instance, it is used to indicate the possibility that a speaker might have held ofﬁce under or as a member of the Thirty (Lys. 18.5, 25.14), or might have taken advantage of their régime for personal proﬁt (Lys. 26.5), or might have killed secretly rather than quasijudicially in front of witnesses (Lys. 1.46). But it can also serve to highlight social impropriety, as in the claim that the speaker’s father advised him to marry a wife from a more respectable family when it would have been possible to have had a larger dowry (Lys. 19.6). Elsewhere in the Orators, however, we ﬁnd closer parallels to its use here, often at the end of a sentence to denote a formal disqualiﬁcation from exercising a civic right, as at Dem. 25.38 and Dein 2.13 (unable to speak in the Assembly, as here), Dem. 58.2 and Dein. 2.2 (unable to initiate public prosecutions), Dem. 24.126 (unable to enter the Agora): in four of these ﬁve cases the disqualiﬁcation results from an unpaid debt to the state, while in the ﬁfth the reason is not stated. δηµηγορεῖν (‘he was speaking in public’), i.e. speciﬁcally in the Assembly, as at Lys. 6.33 and 16.20. ἐν ἐκείνῳ γὰρ τῷ ἀγῶνι (‘during that litigation’). Ago¯n (lit. ‘contest’), is routinely used in the Orators to denote law-court trials (selected refs. at 1.49n): its use can include both eisangeliai (Lys. 16.12; Lyk. 1.5) and dokimasiai (Lys. 15.2; 26.14), so is no help in determining the choice of procedure in the case under discussion (see last note but three); however, it does imply that Theomnestos’ allegation of parricide was uttered at the point where Lysitheos’ case against him had come to court, rather than during the Assembly meeting at which his attempt to speak might have been challenged, since ago¯n does not seem to be used in the Orators when speaking of Assembly debates, however adversarial.13 In the light of the hint at §30 that the speaker was one of Lysitheos’ witnesses against Theomnestos, we may suspect that it was this which led the latter into a personal attack. It is worth noting that although there is uncertainty over the relationship between the law relating to insults using speciﬁed terms (aporrhe¯ta, as in the present case, cf. §6n) and to insults delivered in particular places, nevertheless law-courts were among the public places speciﬁcally listed in Plutarch’s summary of the Solonian law on defamation (see p. 633 n. 33 above, which includes discussion of the absence of a concept of judicial privilege). 13 Contrast Dion.Hal., First Letter to Ammaeus, §3, who uses the term ago¯nes apparently to denote Demosthenes’ speeches, including those delivered in the Assembly as well as in law-courts (τοZ πιφανεστα´του . . . α2γνα το$ τε δικανικοZ κα τοZ δηµηγορικο$).

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τὸν πατέρα µ̓ ἔϕασκεν ἀπεκτονέναι τὸν ἐµαυτοῦ (‘he asserted that I had killed my own father’). The ﬁrst-person possessive pronoun is needed to avoid ambiguity, since otherwise it could be read as an allegation of killing Theomnestos’ father, but the choice and location of word is deliberately emphatic (contrast e.g. τ ν µ ν πατ ρα µ2 -φασκεν α2πεκτον ναι). §2. εἰ µὲν τὸν ἑαυτοῦ µε ἀπεκτονέναι ᾐτιᾶτο (‘if he had accused me of killing his father’). The emphasis here is perhaps more on the contrast between the speaker and this opponent than on the latter’s father (a word which though unavoidable in translation is not in the Greek repeated from §1), but Dover (1974: 278) rightly comments that even if the tone is initially jocular rather than indignant, the implied willingness to be described as a homicide ‘would sound unusual in a modern court’. On the other hand, an allegation of homicide (unlike one of parricide) does not seem to have been an actionable slander. ϕαῦλον γὰρ αὐτὸν καὶ οὐδενὸς αξιον ἡγούµην (‘because I regarded him as insigniﬁcant and not worthy of attention’). Emperius’ emendation auto would make this a statement about the allegation, but Sykutris (1933: 79) may be right to suggest that the tense would work better as a statement about a man, at least if we assume that Theomnestos’ father is dead.14 οὐδ̓ εἴ τι αλλο τῶν ἀπορρήτων ἤκουσα (‘nor . . . if I had been called any other of the aporrhe¯ta’). For the use of akouo¯ (lit. ‘I hear’) used as if the passive of lego¯ (i.e. ‘I am called’), see LSJ s.v. akouo¯, III. It is possible that this idiom reﬂects a culture in which awareness of reputation is particularly important: i.e. that the concern is not so much with what you are called, but with the fact that you have been called it in a way that has percolated back to you. The semantic ﬁeld of aporrhe¯ta (lit. ‘that which should not be mentioned’) includes conﬁdential matters discussed e.g. by the Boule¯ (Lys. 31.5),15 though it can also be used in wider diplomatic contexts (cf. the complaint at Lys. 12.69 that others keep aporrhe¯ta to bafﬂe the enemy but Theramenes kept them from his fellow-citizens), but it can also extend to cover the religious secrets of the Eleusinian Mysteries (Lys. 6.51). In the present speech, however, it is used here and at §6 and §8 to denote what appears to have been a fairly short list of words or phrases which were actionable under Athenian defamation law (for which see pp. 633–635 above): similarly at Isok. 20.3 and possibly Dem. 18.123.

14 Fernández-Galiano (1950/51: 312–317) notes that Shuckburgh and Lamb both read the passage as referring to Theomnestos himself, but the two parallels in Lysias that he cites for the use of the imperfect without α%ν to denote an unreal hypothesis are not accepted by the majority of editors (viz. Lys. 10.7 and 14.21, where most editors restore α%ν). Shuckburgh himself (1892 [1882]: 221) cites Lys. 7.32 instead, but the shift there from the previous series of α%ν-clauses to κερδανον without α%ν suggests a move from unreal to real. 15 Compare the phrase en aporrhe¯to¯i, used to denote meetings of the Boule¯ held behind closed doors, as at Lys. 13.21 (and cf. MacDowell 1962: 94 on Andok. 1.45).

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ἀνελεύθερον γὰρ καὶ λίαν ϕιλόδικον εἶναι νοµίζω κακηγορίας δικάζεσθαι (‘because I believe that to prosecute for defamation is petty and over-litigious’).16 Usher (in Edwards & Usher 1985: 230) takes this passage as evidence that prosecutions for slander will have been uncommon, but this may be to take it too much at face value: criticisms of litigiousness (for which see Christ 1998: 48–71) are by no means incompatible with litigation. §3. οὕτω πολλοῦ ἀξίου γεγενηµένου καὶ ὑµῖν καὶ τῇ πόλει (‘who has deserved so much at the hands of yourselves and of the polis’). For the possible identiﬁcation of the speaker’s father, see pp. 637–638 above. ἢ τούτῳ µόνῳ Ἀθηναίων ἐξαίρετόν ἐστι (‘or whether a special privilege is granted to this man alone of the Athenians’). The topos ‘alone of the Athenians/citizens’ is in the Orators frequently and in Lysias always negative:17 Simon is the only one of the Athenians to be punished by ekke¯ruxis (3.46), Alkibiades the younger is the only one of the citizens liable under each heading of the law (14.7), and Nikomakhos allegedly believes that he alone of the citizens should hold ofﬁce without time-limit (30.5). Cf. the similarly negative tone of Isok. 18.50 (sarcastic) and Dem. 26.13.

§§4–5: Denial of Responsibility for his Father’s Death There is in this speech much less of a distinction between what later rhetorical theorists regarded as the appropriate structural divisions (proem, narrative, proofs, peroration) than is found in the other complete forensic speeches studied in this volume (Lys. 1, Lys. 3, Lys. 7). To the extent that the speech contains a formal narrative, this is probably it, though there are other narrative elements elsewhere (the account of Theomnestos’ alleged slander and how it had come to be uttered, for instance, is embedded in the proem, while narrative details about other trials in the sequence appear later, e.g. at §25). Moreover, even the brief account here of the speaker’s father’s death, which is the subject of the alleged slander, focuses more on refuting any possibility that the speaker might have had a part in it than on giving us any details of what actually happened (for which see §4n). §4. ἔτη ἐστὶ <δύο καὶ> τριάκοντα (‘thirty-two years old’). Thus editors: the manuscript here says ‘thirty’, but the calculation in this and the following sentence implies a higher ﬁgure, and the emendation is conﬁrmed by Lys. 11.1. A terminus post quem for the introduction of this error is discussed in the note on P.Oxy. 2537 hypothesis line 12 (at the start of the Commentary on this speech).

16 Some editors (details in Carey’s OCT apparatus) emend the ﬁrst and ﬁfth words to genitives, making it ‘the characteristic of a petty and over-litigious man’ (or ‘men’). 17 For positive or at least neutral use of the topos, see e.g. Isok. 16.38 (Alkibiades the elder), Dem. 21.223 (the jury), and restored at Ant. On the Revolution, frag. 1a col. iii lines 23–24 (Blass & Thalheim), where it refers to Antiphon himself.

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ἐξ ὅτου <δ̓> ὑµεῖς κατεληλύθατε, εἰκοστὸν τουτί (‘and this is now the twentieth year since you returned from exile’). Plutarch claims that the return from exile of the democratic counter-revolutionaries of 403 was celebrated at Athens on 12 Boedromion (Plut. Glor.Ath. 7 = Moralia, 349f1–3: τ^ δ& δωδεκα´τb χαριστρια -θυον λευθερα· ν κενb γα`ρ ο! α2π Φυλ8 κατ8λθον); this is probably a reference to the ceremonial procession described both by Xenophon and by Lysias (Xen. Hell. 2.4.39; Lys. 13.80), but its signiﬁcance for our purposes is that Boedromion is the third month of the year (roughly September), which suggests that the speaker is likely to be regarding the ‘return from exile’ as taking place in the Arkhon-year of Eukleides (403/2) rather than that of the Thirty’s Arkhon Pythodoros (404/3),18 during which the counter-revolution had been initiated by Thrasyboulos’ march on Phyle: the implications for the date of the speech are discussed at p. 625 above. For the tendency of Athenian litigants in this period (including Andokides and clients of Isokrates as well as those of Lysias, the sole exception being Lys. 12.92–94) to address the jury as if it contained only the democratic counter-revolutionaries and not their oligarchic opponents, see Wolpert (2003: 533), with refs. ὅτε ὁ πατὴρ ὑπὸ τῶν τριάκοντα ἀπέθνῃσκε (‘when my father was killed by the Thirty’). Emphasising the Thirty as the agents of the killing, partly to conﬁrm the date (and therefore his own youthfulness), but also to distract attention from any culpability that he might have had (cf. following note). ταύτην δὲ ἔχων τὴν ἡλικίαν (‘at that age’). We may suspect that it was by no means self-evident to the jury that a boy of this age was below the age of moral responsibility: Antiphon reports the fatal stabbing of his master carried out by a 12-yearold slave, albeit with the disclaimer that nobody would have thought him capable of such daring (tolmao¯: Ant. 5.69). It is worth noting here that the speaker focuses exclusively on the issues of moral responsibility and physical strength, claiming that he was too young to understand the politics or to assist in protecting his father, but that he does not even acknowledge the issue of fact by denying that he had played e.g. some unintentional rôle in causing his father’s death.19 This might, as Hillgruber (1988: 18–19) has suggested, help account for why the speaker not only spends so little time on the details of his father’s death, but also treats as uncontroversial the proposition that the Thirty had been responsible; and it might help also give point to the distinction that Theomnestos has evidently tried to draw between killing and murdering (§6n), the point of which would presumably be that Theomnestos had at no stage denied that it was the

18 The possibility that Pythodoros was retained in ofﬁce for some months after his term but that the restored democracy regarded Eukleides’ term as having been ofﬁcially backdated—this is the explanation suggested by Rhodes (1981: 462–463) for the contradiction between Ath.Pol. 39.1 and 41.1—is unlikely to have affected the democratic perception that the restoration took place under Eukleides. 19 I have suggested elsewhere the parallel of the child who answers the telephone with the words ‘Dad says he’s not at home’ (Todd 1993: 260): given the Thirty’s use of informers, it is easy to hypothesise contexts in which a chance remark could have been fatal.

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Thirty who were the murderers, but had simply pointed out that the speaker had blood on his hands. §5. ὁ γὰρ πρεσβύτερος ἀδελϕὸς Πανταλέων (‘for Pantaleon the elder brother’). On balance it seems more likely that Pantaleon is the speaker’s elder brother, rather than the father’s elder brother and thus the speaker’s uncle. This is for two reasons: ﬁrst, that an elder brother of the speaker’s father would have had to be at least rising seventy in 403 (Fernández-Galiano 1953: 197 n. 4), and although he could have been a very active old man, this hypothesis would presumably have weakened the likelihood of the jury’s believing the claim that he had had the time and energy systematically to dispossess the speaker from his inheritance; and second, that if the speaker’s uncle is intended, there was no point in specifying that he was the older brother, since any brother of the deceased would have had the standing to become guardian during his nephew’s minority (I take this to be the argument of Hillgruber 1988: 44). Grammatically, however, either reading is possible, and my somewhat awkward translation is intended not to prejudice the ambiguity. απαντα παρέλαβε, καὶ ἐπιτροπεύσας ἡµᾶς τῶν πατρῴων ἀπεστέρησεν (‘took control of everything, and after becoming guardian he deprived us of the inheritance’). Epitropeuo¯ (lit. ‘to administer’) is nearly always used in the Orators in the sense of a guardian administering the property of an orphan (for which see Harrison 1968–71.i: 97–121).20 Since the Orators are interested normally in the state of the property that is left at the end of a guardian’s term, paralambano¯ tends to be used of the former orphan receiving the property from his guardian (as at Lys. 19.52), with its counterpart paradido¯mi being used of the guardian handing over the property to the former orphan (e.g. Lys. frag. 174 Sons of Hippokrates), but here paralambano¯ clearly refers to Pantaleon’s gaining control at the start of his guardianship. It is perhaps slightly surprising that the speaker does not claim that the family’s property was conﬁscated by the Thirty, which certainly applied to some of those that they executed or drove into exile.21 It is of course the case that neither conﬁscation by the Thirty nor (as noted by Hillgruber 1988: 17) corrupt administration by Pantaleon is enough formally to negate the

20 There is an exception in Lyk. On his Dioike¯sis (frag. 21 Conomis), where it appears to refer to public administration, speciﬁcally of sacred funds. 21 That greed for what they could conﬁscate was a signiﬁcant motive underlying the Thirty’s executions is certainly part of their traditional reputation (Ath.Pol. 35.4; Xen. Hell. 2.3.21 and 2.4.21). Krentz (1982: 80–81) argues that Lysias and his brother Polemarkhos—both metics—are the only individual victims who can be identiﬁed as suffering conﬁscation: he is probably right to argue that Nikeratos’ property was not conﬁscated (the death-bed statement at Lys. 19.47 might in theory have been followed by at least partial conﬁscation, but evidently not total, in view of the claim that his son inherited 14 talents); but his interpretation of a second case is less convincing, since the purpose behind Epistratos’ ﬁve-month retention of one of Antiphon’s properties ‘to keep it safe for the daughter’ seems to have been precisely to keep it from sharing the fate of the rest of the estate (Lys. frag. 27 Antiphon’s Daughter col. i lines 3–6).

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possibility that the speaker killed his father for his inheritance, since he could not necessarily have predicted either outcome. σχεδὸν <γὰρ> ἐπίστασθε απαντες ὅτι ἀληθῆ λέγω (‘for virtually all of you know that I am telling the truth’). For the attempt to present ‘many’ of the jury as fulﬁlling the rôle of witnesses, see §1n.

§§6–21: First Sets of Proofs in Refutation The core of the speech comprises two sets of arguments designed to refute what is represented as Theomnestos’ main and narrowly legal defence, viz. that the law on defamation deals only with the use of speciﬁc terms rather than synonyms (for the possibility that this is a distortion of Theomnestos’ case, see pp. 636–637 above). Lysias ﬁrst sets up a series of arguments relating to successive forms of litigation, all of which are framed to show the absurdity of a strictly literal principle of statutory interpretation (§§9–14, starting close to home with defamation, then moving on to deal with the Eleven and then the Areiopagos, before returning to defamation again). This is followed by a set of quotations of archaic laws containing words which are no longer in common use (§§15–19), designed to show that non-literal interpretation is again standardly applied throughout the legal system. §6. ἴσως τοίνυν, ὦ ανδρες δικασταί, περὶ τούτων µὲν οὐδὲν ἀπολογήσεται (‘perhaps, gentlemen of the jury, he will make no defence on these points’). Anticipation of the opposing litigant’s arguments in the speeches of the Orators is discussed in detail by Dorjahn (1935), who not only discusses (as here) the rôle of arbitration in providing each of them with information at least about the evidence that his opponent intended to call, but argues also that Athenian litigants may at least sometimes have seen it as in their interests to disseminate their version of the dispute in advance of the trial rather than keeping all their tricks up their sleeves, in order to set the agenda in the minds of the jury (which is relevant to claims in the form ‘I hear he will say’, as at §30). Another example of anticipation is analysed at 6.13n. ἐρεῖ δὲ πρὸς ὑµᾶς απερ ἐτόλµα λέγειν καὶ πρὸς τὸν διαιτητήν (‘but will say to you what he dared to claim in front of the arbitrator as well’). For the general acceptance that this must be a reference to ‘public’ or ‘ofﬁcial’ arbitration, and for the view that the arbitrator must have decided in Theomnestos’ favour, see p. 631 above. The topos of ‘daring to say before the arbitrator’ is not otherwise found in Lysias (where mention of arbitrators is indeed relatively rare), but is a favourite in the private speeches in the Demosthenic corpus: Dem. 27.49; 36.18; 36.33; 39.22. ὡς οὐκ ἔστι τῶν ἀπορρήτων (‘that it is not one of the aporrhe¯ta’). For aporrhe¯ta (‘words that must not be mentioned’), see p. 633 above. τὸν γὰρ νόµον οὐ ταῦτ̓ ἀπαγορεύειν, ἀλλ̓ ἀνδροϕόνον οὐκ ἐᾶν λέγειν (‘on the grounds that the law does not forbid this, but bans people from saying “androphonos” ’). The use of aporrhe¯ta to denote a ﬁnite and evidently fairly short

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list of legally prohibited slanderous terms, and the plausibility of Theomnestos’ claim that this list should be interpreted as excluding any synonyms, is discussed at pp. 634–635 above. Apagoreuo¯ (to forbid) is used in the Orators on 49 independent occasions (not counting the epitome of the present text at 11.3), in 19 of which its subject is nomos (law, variably sing. or plur.). Of these nineteen passages, seventeen indicate a positive prohibition, as at 9.6n, with the only other use of the phrase to deny a prohibition being at Aiskhin. 3.35. The signiﬁcance of androphonos (lit. ‘man-slayer’) is discussed in the next note but two. §7. ἐγὼ δὲ οἶµαι ἡµᾶς, ὦ ανδρες δικασταί, οὐ περὶ τῶν ὀνοµάτων διαϕέρεσθαι ἀλλὰ τῆς τούτων διανοίας (‘in my view, gentlemen of the jury, we are arguing not about words but about their meaning’). Discussion of words and their meanings is, as noted by Hillgruber (1988: 48), a point of contemporary interest in several dialogues of Plato, perhaps drawing on the work of the pre-Sokratic philosophers Prodikos and Protagoras.22 Plato himself twice uses the phrase onomati diapheresthai to denote ‘arguing about words’ (Pl. Euthyd. 285a5–6 and Laws 644a6, in both cases regarding it as the sort of quibbling that is best avoided), and several times uses dianoia onomatos/onomato¯n to signify the ‘meaning’ of words (Critias, 113a7–8, and Cratylus, 418a7). καὶ πάντας εἰδέναι (‘and that everybody recognises’). For the ‘everybody knows’ motif, see §1n. ὅσοι <ἀπεκτόνασί τινας, καὶ ἀνδροϕόνοι εἰσί, καὶ ὅσοι> ἀνδροϕόνοι εἰσί, καὶ ἀπεκτόνασί τινας (‘that all those <who have killed people are also androphonoi, and all those> who are androphonoi have also killed people’). The meaning of androphonos (lit. ‘man-slayer’) is contested, since Dem. 23.28–36 cites and discusses a law relating to the killing or arrest of androphonoi in which he twice claims that the term is used to denote speciﬁcally those who have been convicted of homicide.23 Frohberger (in Frohberger & Thalheim 1892 [1866–71.ii]: 155) argued on this basis that androphonos in Athenian law referred only to those guilty of culpable homicide, and excluded those who had killed either lawfully or without premeditation: if so, then Theomnestos’ point would be precisely that he had at no stage alleged that the speaker was a murderer, merely a killer. This distinction between culpable and non-culpable, however, is not quite the same as Demosthenes’ distinction between convicted and unconvicted, and it would seem very strange to have framed the law of defamation so as to protect only those alleged to have been convicted of homicide, since they would seem to require less 22 Prodikos is said to have taught the correct use of words (onomato¯n orthote¯s: Plato, Cratylus, 348b2–6, and Euthydemus, 277e3–4), while Protagoras seems to have been the author of a work on correct speaking (orthoepeia: Plato, Phaedrus, 267c6). 23 In summarising the same law at Dem. 23.216, however, he uses the phrase τ ν /αλωκ*τ2 α2νδροφ*νον (‘the convicted androphonos’), which may suggest an awareness that the issue was not as clear-cut as he had originally suggested: it is very much in his interests to distinguish between those convicted and those accused, since this is the basis of his argument that Aristokrates’ decree for Kharidemos has been unconstitutionally drafted.

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protection than those acquitted or never brought to trial. And there are certainly other passages where the term androphonos is used in a more inclusive sense, to denote those who evidently have not been convicted: these include not simply the present speech (cf. §12n), but also Lys. 13.81–82 (where it is used of an allegedly deliberate though indirect killer who has not been convicted), and probably Lys. 13.56 (where the word is used at the moment of arrest and before conviction), while at Dem. 20.158 it refers to killers who have not yet been tried, in circumstances which may turn out to be justiﬁable homicide.24 πολὺ γὰρ <αν> ἔργον ἦν τῷ νοµοθέτῃ (‘It would have been a considerable task for the law-giver’). For law-giving as an inexact science, cf. most famously the claim at Ath.Pol. 9.2 that the reason why Solon’s laws were phrased in general terms was not (as some anonymous critics had suggested) a conspiracy to magnify the power of the jury, but rather because of the impossibility of deﬁning what is best in general terms. απαντα τὰ ὀνόµατα γράϕειν ὅσα τὴν αὐτὴν δύναµιν ἔχει (‘to mention all the words which have the same meaning’). The use of the verb grapho¯ (lit. ‘to write’) implies a perception that legislating is a written rather than an oral process.25 Dunamis (like Eng. ‘force’), can be used simply to denote the ‘signiﬁcance’ of words, but there may be a residual sense that written words have power. §8. οὐ γὰρ δήπου (‘for I can hardly imagine’). For the particle, see Denniston (1954: 267). Bateman (1958a: 78) notes that Lysias mainly uses deduction rather than (as here) analogy from a series of hypothetical cases, but cites as a parallel 15.1–4. ὦ Θεόµνηστε (‘Theomnestos’). The use of the vocative addressed to the opponent is most common in prosecution speeches, as here (refs. at 6.49n), and is often associated with the adoption of a particularly aggressive or confrontational tone towards the defendant (for other aspects of this phenomenon in the present speech, see p. 636 above). Other examples of the vocative in this speech can be found at §16 (name) and §18 (o β λτιστε: patronising). εἰ µέν τίς σε εἴποι πατραλοίαν ἢ µητραλοίαν (‘that if somebody called you patraloias or me¯traloias’), lit. ‘father-beater’, ‘mother-beater’, though it is not 24 It should perhaps be noted that the manuscript reading in the lemma quoted at the head of this paragraph contains only the second equation (‘that all those who are androphonoi have also killed people’), and that the inclusion of the ﬁrst equation also is a textual emendation based on Lys. 11.3. If Frohberger is correct in seeing androphonos as a narrower term, and if this meaning was widely accepted, it is at least possible that what Lysias claimed here was simply the second half of the equation (i.e. that ‘all androphonoi are [a subset of] killers’), and that it is the epitomiser who, by inferring a double equation, fell for the trap that the orator was trying to set for the jury. 25 Contrast the more common description in the Orators of the ideal law-giver, who is normally envisaged as Solon, as K θε τ ν ν*µον (perhaps best rendered as ‘the one who established the law)’, where tithe¯mi—as also in the sufﬁx of nomothete¯s (‘legislator’)—is a verb which does not specify whether the process is envisaged as taking place orally or in writing.

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clear whether the terms might have carried a wider meaning. Patraloias is glossed in a restricted sense by one of the lexicographers (Souda s.v. aloio¯n: K τ ν πατ ρα τ$πτων), but another adds ‘one who dishonours his father’ (Hesykhios s.v. patraloias: K τ ν πατ ρα α2τιµα´ζων). Dem. 24.102–103 seems at one point to regard the offence as a synonym for kako¯sis goneo¯n (‘maltreatment of parents’), which can apparently include failure to provide proper maintenance (e.g. Isai. 8.32), and Lykourgos certainly seeks to extend the concept of kako¯sis to cover neglect of funeral rites or damage to memorials (Lyk. 1.147: his claim that this is the corollary of the defendant’s emigration is clearly tendentious, but the underlying point may not be). Aristophanes is particularly fond of the term patraloias, primarily as a form of insult (Clouds, 911 and 1327), and even personiﬁes the term by bringing on stage a character described simply as a patraloioas (Birds, 1337); but elsewhere, and from a legal perspective more interestingly, he groups patraloiai alongside a list of other offenders all of whom seem to have been liable to apago¯ge¯ or summary arrest.26 ἠξίους αν αὐτὸν ὀϕλεῖν σοι δίκην (‘you would believe that he ought to lose his case against you’), lit. ‘owe you (a) dike¯ ’: for the idiom, see §27n. εἰ δέ τις εἴποι ὡς τὴν τεκοῦσαν ἢ τὸν ϕύσαντα ἔτυπτες (‘but that if somebody said that you hit the woman or the man who gave you birth’). Hillgruber (1988: 51, with refs.) notes that this is a distinctively poetic usage: for the suggestion that it is meant to sound deliberately ridiculous, see p. 626 n. 7 above. §9. περὶ τοῦτο γὰρ δεινὸς εἶ καὶ µεµελέτηκας (‘for you are skilled and experienced in this matter’). The opening of the direct assault on Theomnestos’ credibility, which begins by presenting him as learned educator before recasting him as stupid pupil.27 The verb meletao¯ (here translated ‘to be experienced’) is particularly interesting in this context, since although it is a favourite in early epideictic speeches (twenty-four times in those of Isokrates, and ﬁve times in the Second Tetralogy of Antiphon), outside this passage it is conﬁned in forensic speeches to the period of the later orators, where its use is always either negative or at least defensive, primarily of rhetorical skill with words (Aiskhin. 2.55; Dem. 19.255; Dem. 21.191), though it can be applied also to technical aspects of the trial, like testimony (Dem. 46.1) or legal knowledge (Hyp. Athenog. §13): from the outset, therefore, the implication is that Theomnestos is being too clever by half. καὶ ποιεῖν καὶ λέγειν (‘both in action and in speech’). Jebb (1888 [1880]: 273) thinks that the two inﬁnitives are being used in the sense found in later 26 Frogs, 772–773: grouped with lo¯podutai (clothes-snatchers, cf. §10n), ballantiotomoi (cut-purses), and toikho¯rukhoi (those burglars who dig through the walls of houses). 27 Pupil: didasko¯ and paideuomai at §15. Stupidity: anoe¯to¯s at §14, skaios at §15, side¯rous at §20). The idea that the opponent may learn a lesson from losing the present trial is found also at Lys. 24.27, a speech which may be seen as adopting an albeit slightly less robust version of the same didactic strategy as the present case (for which see pp. 636–637 above), with the similar aim of making the opponent look ridiculous.

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rhetoricians (poiein as ‘how to “invent” taunts’, and legein as ‘how to utter them’), but more attractive is the suggestion of Hillgruber (1988: 52) that ‘this matter’ is a reference to shield-loss, with the implication that Theomnestos is somebody who has studied this both in practice (in battle) and in theory (in pre-trial hearings). εἴ τίς σε εἴποι ῥῖψαι τὴν ἀσπίδα (‘if somebody claimed that you had discarded your shield’). The distinction between rhipto¯ and apoballo¯ (which for convenience are rendered respectively ‘discard’ and ‘throw away’ in this translation) is largely semantic, though cf. below. The most explicit of the allegations made by Aristophanes and other comic poets against Kleonymos (for which see §1n) tend to use the term rhipsaspis or ‘shield-discarder’ (Aristoph. Clouds, 353, and Eupolis frag. 352 Kassel & Austin, and cf. more generally Aristoph. Peace, 1186), which might suggest that rhipto¯ was by this period the colloquial verb, though Aristophanes certainly uses apoballo¯ of Kleonymos on other occasions (Wasps, 19, 592; Birds, 290). Apoballo¯ is evidently the term used in the law dealing with defamation (see following note), and some scholars have suggested that by the early fourth century it had lost much of its force and come to mean simply ‘lose’.28 There may be some truth in this, but it is important not to over-state the case: certainly in the Orators apoballo¯ remains a familiar legal term when referring to shields (Andok. 1.74; Isok. 8.143; Aiskhin. 1.29), and several of its metaphorical uses have a sense that is rather more culpable than might be suggested by Eng. ‘lose’ (e.g. Andok. 3.29, 3.30; Aiskhin. 2.70: all three of which denote wilful abandonment of useful alliances). ἐν δὲ τῷ νόµῳ εἴρηται ‘ἐάν τις ϕάσκῃ ἀποβεβληκέναι, ὑπόδικον εἶναι’ (‘it says in the law, “if anybody says that a person has thrown away <sc. his shield>, let him be liable to prosecution” ’).29 Evidently a direct quotation from the law governing the dike¯ kake¯gorias: the possible signiﬁcance of the inﬁnitive here is discussed at p. 634 at n. 38 above. ἀλλ̓ ἐξήρκει αν σοι ἐρριϕέναι τὴν ἀσπίδα, λέγοντι <ὅτι> οὐδέν σοι µέλει (‘would it instead be satisfactory for you to have discarded your shield, saying that this was no concern of yours’). The grammar of this sentence is particularly complex, and there may be a deliberate ambiguity which cannot be captured in translation: the impersonal verb exarkeo¯ (LSJ I.2, lit. ‘it sufﬁces’) + dat. pers. can govern either an inﬁnitive (as translated here) or a participle, so that punctuating without the comma it would be possible to read the sentence as meaning ‘would it instead be satisfactory for you to say to have discarded was no concern of yours. . .’. For the care taken throughout the speech never to acknowledge direct liability for the

28 Thus Jebb (1888 [1880]: 273–274), and in more detail Usher (in Edwards & Usher 1985: 232), who notes the attempted lexical distinction in Plato, Laws, 944b5–c1 (for which see §1n above) in which apoboleus is used of non-culpable ‘loss’. 29 Hupodikos normally seems to be used of liability to a dike¯ (private prosecution), but can be used in contexts of public litigation also (Isai. 8.33).

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unambiguous allegation (presumably, as suggested by Albini 1955: 418 n. 4, to avoid the risk of Theomnestos bringing a slander action on the rebound), compare §1n, §22n, §25n, §28n, and §30n. §10. ἀλλ̓ οὐδ̓ αν τῶν ἕνδεκα γενόµενος ἀποδέξαιο (‘nor presumably, assuming you became one of the Eleven . . . would you accept it’). Whereas at §9 Theomnestos had been envisaged as plaintiff in a defamation case, this one constructs him as hypothetical presiding ofﬁcial in a different category of proceedings. The Eleven were the board of public ofﬁcials in charge of prisons (including evidently the use of the stocks, for which cf. §16n) and executions: their responsibilities included jurisdiction over cases of apago¯ge¯ (summary arrest of certain categories of malefactor if caught in the act, for which see Hansen 1976). Apodekhomai (lit. ‘receive’) presumably signiﬁes their willingness to accept that there was a case to answer and that the accused should be kept in custody: cf. paradekhomai at Lys. 13.86 (an occasion when they seem to have insisted as a prior condition that the prosecutor must revise the terms of his apago¯ge¯, which is the nearest they come in our sources to refusing). θοἰµάτιον ἀποδεδύσθαι ἢ τὸν χιτωνίσκον ἐκδεδύσθαι (‘had pulled off his cloak or stripped him of his tunic’). The distinction between the two verbs is discussed, with reference among others to this passage, by an anonymous lexicographer (see Lys. frag. 68a). ὅτι οὐ λωποδύτης ὀνοµάζεται (‘because he was not identiﬁed as a lo¯podute¯s’). The categories of kakourgos (malefactor) that were statutorily liable to apago¯ge¯ are discussed by Gagarin (2003), who draws attention to the fact that it is unusual in Athenian legal statutes to use nouns denoting classes of offender, and much more common to use verbs denoting their activity. The lo¯podute¯s or ‘clothessnatcher’,30 together with the andrapodiste¯s or ‘kidnapper’ (see following note), were among the categories of offender so deﬁned: they are listed together at Isok. 15.90 and Dem. 4.47, and individually but in connection with kakourgoi or apago¯ge¯ at Ant. 5.9 and Dem. 54.1 (lo¯podute¯s) and Hyp. Athenog. §12 (andrapodiste¯s). οὐδ̓ εἴ τις παῖδα ἐξαγαγὼν ληϕθείη, οὐκ αν ϕάσκοις αὐτὸν ἀνδραποδιστὴν εἶναι (‘nor, if somebody were caught abducting a child, would you describe him as an andrapodiste¯s’). In a slave society like Athens, the purpose of kidnapping is deemed to be not so much the exaction of a ransom or of political concessions, but rather to retain or trade the captive as one’s slave. It is not entirely clear whether the victim envisaged here is a free child who is being illegally reduced to slavery (Dein. 1.23 speaks of a free boy kept captive in a mill) or another person’s slave who is being stolen (as at Lys. 13.67, where the alleged captive is a 30 Hesykh. s.v. lo¯podutai glosses as ‘bath-house thieves’ (ν λο$τροι κλ πτοντε), but Dem. 54.8 suggests that the term may more often have denoted what we might call ‘mugging’ (i.e. street crime including theft from the person, as in Aristoph. Birds, 497).

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§10–12

675

paidiske¯)31—the term pais, as in many slave societies, can mean either ‘child’ or ‘slave’ (cf. 1.32n)—but it is the former meaning which provides the basis of the play on words here, since andrapodiste¯s is derived from the term andrapodon (lit. ‘man-footed thing’, i.e. slave), and somebody who kidnaps a pais cannot on a literal reading of the etymology be held liable for catching a ‘man-foot’. §11. οὑτοσὶ γάρ (‘this man here’). We move to a third area of legal administration, this time from the perspective of the court. It is normal in Lysias for the deictic form houtosi (‘this man here’) to be applied as here to the defendant (thus e.g. three times in Lys. 3 and no fewer than sixteen times in Lys. 13), but much less common to use it without an accompanying name (the sole parallel is at 24.22: contrast the repeated uses in Lys. 3 and in Lys. 13, which are always ‘Simon here’ or ‘Agoratos here’). Houtosi is sometimes used by Lysieas of a neutral third party (as at 7.10 or 23.13), or occasionally of things (such as the text of a legal statute at §18), but never of the prosecutor. οὐδ̓ εἰς Ἄρειον πάγον ἀναβεβηκέναι (‘has not even climbed up onto the Areiopagos hill’). For the unusual nature of this critique, and the suggestion that it is connected with Theomnestos’ political ambitions, see p. 636 above. For the jurisdiction of the Areiopagos, see Ath.Pol. 57.3 (which however omits cases like Lys. 7 involving the sacred olives, evidently because these were obsolete by the 320s, cf. Ath.Pol. 60.1). οὐ διὰ τούτου τοῦ ὀνόµατος τὰς διωµοσίας ποιοῦνται (‘they do not construct the dio¯mosiai using this word’). For the dio¯mosia (special oath in homicide and related proceedings, which witnesses as well as litigants were obliged to swear), see 4.4n. Oaths sworn by the parties in Athenian litigation appear to have required them to swear to the guilt or innocence of the defendant, which worried Plato (Laws, 948d8–e4) because of its implication that 50 per cent of all litigants were therefore committing perjury (and he may have had in mind that this could happen unintentionally, to a prosecutor who was honestly mistaken in his belief in the defendant’s guilt), but this may reﬂect the rôle of oaths as the primary act of indictment in early Athenian law. §12. τὸν δράσαντ̓ ἀϕεῖναι ϕάσκοντα ἀνδροϕόνον εἶναι (‘to acquit a man who had committed murder and who admits that he is an androphonos ’). The point being that androphonos (the term used in the defamation law to denote a murderer, though in view of §7n it is perhaps worth noting that as used here it must signify one who has not been convicted) is a different word from kteino¯ (the verb used in the dio¯mosia—cf. previous note—to signify the act of murder), thereby implying that the law accepts the existence of synonyms.

31

And cf. the assumption at Lyk. Against Lykophron (frag. 62 Conomis), that andrapodistai ‘deprive us merely of our oiketai (household slaves)’.

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10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§12–13

τί γὰρ ταῦτα, ὧν οὗτος ἐρεῖ, διαϕέρει; (‘in what respect do these things differ from what this man will say?’). ‘These things’ presumably denotes the absurd hypothesis presented in the previous sentence, with ‘this man will say’ referring to the argument that the defendant will present in his speech. καὶ αὐτὸς µὲν Θέωνι κακηγορίας ἐδικάσω (‘you yourself prosecuted Theon for defamation’). Here we return from hypothetical absurd cases to the issue of defamation with which the sequence of arguments began at §9, but dealing now with a prosecution that Theomnestos has allegedly brought in reality rather than hypothetically. ‘You’ here and throughout §§12–14 is singular, clearly referring to Theomnestos. Theon here is the manuscript reading: the logical advantages but palaeographical difﬁculties involved in Frohberger’s suggested emendation ‘Lysitheos’ are discussed at p. 629 with n. 17 above. ἐὰν δέ τις εἴπῃ ἀποβεβληκέναι τὴν ἀσπίδα (‘if anybody says that a person has thrown away his shield’). Presumably a paraphrase, whereas the wording at §9n was a quotation, in which the word for ‘saying’ was different and ‘shield’ was not speciﬁcally mentioned. πεντακοσίας δραχµὰς ὀϕείλειν κελεύει (‘ orders that . . . he shall be liable to pay [lit. ‘owe’] ﬁve hundred drachmas’). For the penalty, see p. 633 with n. 35 above. §13. τοὺς ἐχθροὺς τιµωρεῖσθαι (‘to get revenge on your enemies’). For prosecution as an act involving vengeance, see 1.3n. (Cf. the noun timo¯ria, ‘redress’, at the end of §13.) οὕτω τοὺς νόµους ὥσπερ ἐγὼ νῦν λαµβάνεις (‘you interpret the laws in the same way as I am now doing’). Lambano¯ (lit. ‘to take’) in conjunction with law is most commonly used in the Orators, particularly by Isaios and Demosthenes, in the literal sense of a request to the clerk to take hold of the text and read it out to the court, but Lysias elsewhere uses the compound dialambano¯ of the juror’s task to interpret the law (14.4). It is perhaps signiﬁcant that the epitomiser of this speech uses another compound (eklambano¯, 11.6) to render the present passage, though Demosthenes does use the uncompounded verb to describe the sense in which he claims the lawgiver interpreted a word (Dem. 44.49). χρῆσθαι τοῖς νόµοις (‘manipulate the laws’). In conjunction with law, khraomai (lit. ‘to use’) tends in the Orators to signify the adoption or implementation of new or existing laws, in contexts where the subject is either the polis as a political community (esp. at Andok. 1.81–89, but also Lys. 6.8–10 and Isok. 12.124, and used of other communities at Dem. 24.139 and 24.210), or alternatively a body like the Boule¯ (Dem. 24.96), or an individual politician who should have implemented existing laws rather than proposing new decrees (Dem. 22.49, Dem. 24.161). Nowhere else in the Orators is the phrase used of the individual litigant interpreting a law, but since citing the law was the litigant’s privilege rather than the responsibility of the court, this might not seem too great a transition.

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677

§14. εἶτ̓ οὐκ αἰσχύνῃ οὕτως ἀνοήτως διακείµενος (‘are you not ashamed to be so stupid’). For the theme of Theomnestos’ stupidity, see §9n. καί µοι ἀνάγνωθι τὸν νόµον (‘please read the law for me’). As with the majority of those read out during the speeches of Lysias, the identity of this law is not speciﬁed (contrast those in §§15–19, for which see §16n), but presumably it is the law dealing with the procedure in the present case (i.e. the dike¯ kake¯gorias). The request (like those in §§15–19) is directed to the clerk of the court, as at 1.28n. §15. ὀρθῶς λέγω (‘I am speaking the truth’), lit. ‘straight’, but serving as an additional contrast to Theomnestos’ ‘crookedness’ (i.e. stupidity, cf. following note). οὕτω σκαιὸν εἶναι ὥστε οὐ δύνασθαι µαθεῖν τὰ λεγόµενα (‘so dull that he is not able to understand what is being said’). There may be a play on words in the ﬁnal phrase here, given that the Gk. idiom kako¯s lego¯ (lit. ‘to speak badly’) means ‘to malign’: the implication would be that Theomnestos was too dim to recognise an insult. For his alleged stupidity, see §9n. For the complaints of various scholars about the rarity in Lysias of the term skaios (‘dull’, lit. ‘crooked’), see p. 626 n. 6 above and cf. p. 550 above; more convincing is the argument of Hillgruber (1988: 64) that there is nothing fundamentally inappropriate about the term, since it is found four times in Demosthenes. διδάξαι (‘to teach’). A surprisingly common word in Athenian forensic speeches,32 the tone of which is often closer to ‘let me explain’ than ‘I intend to teach’, but it is nearly always addressed to the audience (as at Lys. 3.21; 7.3; 9.3; 12.3; 12.62; 14.3; 19.12; 25.7; 32.3), and I am not aware of any other passage in the Orators where it is applied to the opponent. The didactic tone of this speech is discussed at pp. 636–637 above. αν πως ἀλλὰ νῦν ἐπὶ τοῦ βήµατος παιδευθῇ (‘in the hope that he may receive an education now at any rate on the speaker’s rostrum’). The be¯ma is the platform on which the speaker stood to address his audience: it is most often used in the Orators in connection with Assembly debates, but once in the context of a meeting of the Boule¯ (Ant. 6.40), and also as here and at §20 in descriptions of law-court proceedings (e.g. Isai. 5.25, Dem. 19.311, and esp. Dem. 48.31, where the mention of ‘the other be¯ma’ presumably implies that there was one for each of the two litigants). For the didactic tone of this passage, see previous note. τούτους τοὺς νόµους τοὺς Σόλωνος τοὺς παλαιούς (‘those ancient laws of Solon’). Palaios could also mean ‘former’, making this a reference to laws which had been rendered obsolete as part of the process of legal revision that appears to

The ﬁrst person indicative future διδα´ξω is found no fewer than forty-ﬁve times, not to speak of periphrases such as πειρα´σοµαι διδα´σκειν, βο$λοµαι διδα´σκειν, and α%ρξοµαι διδα´ξαι. 32

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10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §15

have accompanied the transition from ﬁfth- to fourth-century democracy.33 On balance, however, I suspect that Hillgruber (1988: 65–66) is probably correct to believe that the argument that somebody wrongly imprisoned might subsequently sue the Eleven (§16), which is phrased as a future open condition, implies that this law at least, and presumably therefore the others also, represent archaic legislation which is still valid.34 One of the striking chronological differences within the oratorical corpus is that reference to Solon in the speeches of the early Orators is extremely uncommon: indeed, Ruschenbusch (1958: 399–401) ﬁnds him mentioned in only three of seventy-ﬁve extant speeches dated before 356 bc but in seventeen of sixty-four after it, which he seeks to explain by arguing that it was mid-fourth-century writers like Kleidemos, Theopompos, and Androtion who ﬁrst made Solon into a propaganda ﬁgure. There are problems with this explanation, since Finley’s analysis of the debate over the patrios politeia (ancestral constitution) suggests that propaganda involving the contested intentions of the founding fathers of the Athenian state was already prevalent when this debate can be ﬁrst seen, in the ﬁnal decade of the ﬁfth century, perhaps indeed provoked by the revolution of the Four Hundred in 411 bc.35 Moreover, the early Orators do discuss the intentions of the legislator (as at 1.33n, 3.42n, and 26.9) in broadly the same way as their post-356 successors, even though they do so less frequently, with less conﬁdence in their assertions, and without normally attributing this legislation speciﬁcally to Solon (cf. 6.10n). It is therefore tempting to explain the change observed by Ruschenbusch less in terms of Solon’s invention as a founding father in c.356, but rather along the lines that it is in the nature of debates over founding fathers to move towards the canonisation of a single individual, and that the change reﬂects his success over time in driving his rivals off the market.36 Unlike the majority of laws read out during the speeches of Lysias (cf. §14n), those in §§15–19 are quoted in our manuscripts. The primary reason for this is presumably that they involve details of phrasing which are embedded within the surrounding argument, though it may be signiﬁcant also that none of them exceeds fourteen words. But it makes of particular interest questions of verbal 33 For the scale of this process, see variously Ostwald (1986: 414–420 and 509–524), Hansen (1990), Robertson (1990) and Rhodes (1991). My own views on some of the questions raised are set out in Todd (1996). 34 Contrast Ath.Pol. 8.3, where the term naukraries is said to occur frequently in ‘the laws of Solon which they no longer use’. 35 Finley (1986: 34–59): I have argued elsewhere (Todd 1996: 122–124) that this ﬁrst oligarchic revolution was in some ways a more threatening experience for the Athenian perception of law—one which created the pressure for the introduction of a hierarchy of norms (in which nomoi or laws were granted a status above pse¯phismata or decrees)—precisely because it revealed that nobody knew whether the Assembly had the legal right to vote itself out of existence. To be forced to do so by the presence in Athens of hostile troops, as in 404, is more unpleasant but ideologically less threatening. 36 Contrast Kleitophon’s rider to Pythodoros’ proposal in 411, which speaks of ‘the ancestral laws which Kleisthenes established when he founded the democracy’ (τοZ πατρου ν*µου, ο Κλεισθ νη -θηκεν 9τε καθστη τDν δηµοκραταν, Ath.Pol., 29.3).

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§15–16

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detail and of provenance. Part of Ruschenbusch’s argument, developed more fully in his subsequent edition of the fragments of Solon’s laws (Ruschenbusch 1966: 53–54), is that attribution prior to 356 is a more reliable indicator of a genuinely Solonian law than is the purely conventional attribution of the sort found in the later Orators. There is some merit in this argument, though it is not necessarily the case that Lysias would have been able to distinguish one archaic law from another,37 and we should remember that Andok. 1.95–96 (in c.400 bc) describes as a ‘law of Solon’ what turns out to be a decree of 410. And it is of course the case, as noted by Hillgruber (1988: 66) that an archaic law which had been incorporated in whatever revised code had been issued after 403 might well have been revised in some respects but without being purged of archaic terminology, and might easily be described as Solonian. §16. δεδέσθαι δ̓ ἐν τῇ ποδοκάκκῃ ἡµέρας δέκα τὸν πόδα (‘ “let him be conﬁned by his foot for ten days in the podokakke¯ ” ’).38 What is printed and translated here is (as elsewhere throughout this commentary) the text of Carey, in this case following Hillgruber, who between them provide a useful corrective to the consensus— and it is in the nature of a consensus that it risks acquiring an authority which is at least potentially spurious—which has accepted the conjecture pente (‘ﬁve’) for deka (‘ten’). The basis of this conjecture, originally proposed by Taylor (1739), is the quotation of a law in Dem. 24.105 dealing apparently with penalties for theft, which concludes as follows: δεδ σθαι δ2 ν τ^ ποδοκα´κκb τ ν π*δα π νθ2 Gµ ρα κα

ν$κτα 1σα, α`ν προστιµσb G Gλιαα. προστιµα˜σθαι δ& τ ν βουλ*µενον, 9ταν περ

το' τιµµατο (‘ shall be conﬁned by his foot in the podokakke¯ for ﬁve days and the same number of nights, if the He¯liaia shall impose this penalty: anybody who wishes may propose this, when the decision over the penalty takes place’).39 Hillgruber (1988: 66–68) offers two arguments for rejecting the identiﬁcation of the two laws and therefore the emendation. The more persuasive of these is the suggestion that the authenticity of the law quoted at Dem. 24.105 is (like many of those in the manuscripts of Demosthenes’ public speeches) not above suspicion, and that the crucial clause could have been taken from the assertion in the text of the speech that a thief could suffer ﬁve days and nights of ‘conﬁnement’ (desmon: Dem. 24.114): Hillgruber himself appears to take this as a reference to imprisonment, though the fact that the purpose is described as being so that everybody may see the thief being conﬁned (9πω Kρεν αmπαντε ατ ν δεδεµ νον) perhaps suggests that ‘conﬁnement’ is 37 I am not convinced by the argument of e.g. Stroud (1979) that Solon’s axones and kurbeis survived at this period in a form available easily to be consulted: the 3rd-/2nd-cent. debate between Polemon and Eratosthenes over the shape of the axones (details in Stroud 1979: 20–25) might well mean that they were by then in such poor condition that the question was unresolvable (thus Sealey 1987: 141), while the invocation by the 5th-cent. comic poet Kratinos (frag. 300 K&A) of ‘the kurbeis of Drakon and Solon which we now use to roast barley’ sounds suspiciously like nostalgic rhetoric (along the lines that they are now no more use than ﬁrewood). 38 For the term podokakke¯, see next note but one. The law is frag. 23c in Ruchenbusch (1966). 39 ‘Penalty’ here translates time¯ma, for which see following note.

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Demosthenes’ gloss on the podokakke¯, rather than the other way round. Less persuasive, however, is Hillgruber’s argument that 10.16 cannot be a law of theft because that is the subject of another law at 10.17: this assumes that all forms of theft were treated under one law, whereas the evidence of surviving statutes implies that statutes tended to be organised on the basis of procedure rather than of substance. ἐὰν [µὴ] προστιµήσῃ ἡ ἠλιαία (‘ “if the He¯liaia shall impose this penalty. . .” ’).40 The constitutional origin of the He¯liaia is contested. For the traditional interpretation, that it was in origin an archaic term used to denote a plenary meeting of the Assembly sitting as a law court, see e.g. Ostwald (1986: 10 n. 29). The alternative view is that of Hansen (in a series of papers, most notably 1981–82), who argues that the term he¯liaia from the ﬁrst denoted ‘either the People’s Court or any section of it’,41 and that the term continued for reasons of conservatism to be used in the drafting of laws even in the fourth century (e.g. Timokrates’ law as quoted in Dem. 24.63), but was routinely paraphrased by the Orators as dikaste¯rion. The verb timao¯ (used in the active of the court and in the middle of the litigant) is regularly found denoting the process of time¯sis, which served to determine the punishment in cases where this was not ﬁxed by statute: each litigant would propose an alternative penalty (time¯ma, lit. ‘evaluation’, as at 1.29n), for the jury to choose between. We would expect the compounded form pros-timao¯ to denote a ‘supplementary penalty’, as at Dem. 24.105 and 24.114, where it can be imposed in addition to double restitution. It is perhaps worth noting that if Hillgruber and Carey are right in dissociating the law here from the one at Dem. 24.105 (see previous note), we might prefer to read this as a negative condition, as it is in the manuscript: the point would presumably be to make the podokkake¯ the minimum penalty unless the court imposed anything further. ἡ ποδοκάκκη αὕτη ἐστίν, ὦ Θεόµνηστε, ὃ νῦν καλεῖται ἐν τῷ ξύλῳ δεδέσθαι (‘this “podokakke¯”, Theomnestos, is what is now called “being conﬁned in the stocks” ’). For the use of the vocative, see p. 636 above. The most plausible explanation of the etymology of the archaic term for the sake of which the law here is being cited is that it derives from podokatokhe¯ or ‘foot-retainer’ (thus Didymos, quoted by Harpokration s.v. podokakke¯). The term xulon (lit. ‘wood’) is attested in several speeches, including one where the reference is to close conﬁnement imposed for security reasons and speciﬁcally within the conﬁnes of the prison (Andok. 40

Although 5th-cent. inscriptions suggest that the word was not aspirated, the use of the form he¯liaia (as opposed to e¯liaia) has become so conventional in English that its avoidance would simply cause confusion: thus Hansen (1981–82: 9 n. 1), citing Threatte (1980–96.i: 500) on IG i3, 40.75, and IG i3, 71.14. 41 ‘People’s court’ is Hansen’s rendering of dikaste¯rion (i.e. court manned by dikastai, the point being that these were empanelled up to the number required for a particular trial, rather than on a plenary basis like the Assembly). It is striking that unlike dikaste¯rion, which is used in the singular of a single jury-panel but in the plural where these are combined (e.g. Dem. 25.28, where the sing. γν=σει implies that they must have been sitting together, and cf. 24.9 dual), he¯liaia is found only in the singular.

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§16–17

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1.45), though the location in other cases is less clear. However, the emphasis on ‘seeing’ in Dem. 24.114 (as interpreted in the last note but one), and on the supplementary nature of the punishment and the ﬁxed duration of the penalty in this passage also, suggests that the primary function of the podokakke¯ was public humiliation, and that it will therefore normally have been located outside the prison. On this, and other aspects of both podokakke¯ and xulon, see V. J. Hunter (1994: 178–180). ἐν ταῖς εὐθύναις τῶν ἕνδεκα κατηγοροίη (‘to accuse the Eleven at their euthunai’). The implication is clearly that the podokakke¯ was a non-fatal punishment (contrast the use of xulon at Aristoph. Knights, 1049, where it seems to be referring to apotumpanismos). This passage is unusual in making explicit the risk faced by the Eleven (the board of ofﬁcials in charge of prisons, cf. §10n), that improper exercise of their powers even against convicted criminals could in theory land them in trouble at their end-of-year accounting (euthunai, for which cf. 9.11n), though this risk is perhaps implied in two passages where the Eleven are imagined or stated to take special care to follow the letter of the law before accepting apago¯gai (§10n again, and cf. also 13.86). The risk is of course capable of being exaggerated for comic effect: we do hear of one case where the entire board of Eleven were said to have been condemned to death for malpractice in public ofﬁce, but there the allegation is that prisoners had been unlawfully released (Isai. 4.28). §17. ἐπεγγυᾶν δ̓ ἐπιορκήσαντα τὸν Ἀπόλλω. δεδιότα δὲ δίκης ἕνεκα δρασκάζειν (‘ “After swearing an oath by Apollo, let him give security. If he is afraid on account of justice, let him abscond . . .” ’). Given the way in which this quotation is introduced (‘another law’, in the singular), the likelihood is that both these short sentences come from a single text;42 what is less clear however is whether they form a continuous quotation within that text (which is how they are interpreted e.g. by Ruschenbusch 1966: frag. 15b, and by Hillgruber 1988: 71), or two non-contiguous phrases selected from the law, with each being quoted for the sake of a single obsolete word (thus Jebb 1888 [1880]: 276, and Shuckburgh 1892 [1882]: 226). The ﬁrst of these words is epiorkeo¯, which in extant texts as far back as Homer denotes the swearing of a false or perjured oath, but despite the lack of parallels there is no good etymological reason to reject Lysias’ statement that here it means simply ‘swear’. The second is draskazo¯, which is evidently an archaic variant for apodidrasko¯ (‘run away’, as Lysias), presumably in this context 42 I am less convinced by the argument of Hillgruber (1988: 70) that the absence of any further introductory formula until the end of §18 means that all three texts quoted during §§18–19 must belong to the same law. This is partly because the lemmata ‘NOMOS ’ (law) or ‘MARTURIA’ (testimony) and their introductory formulae are not always accurately transmitted in our manuscripts (cf. 9.7 and 14.3)—it is worth noting that the Palatinus manuscript heads §16 with the plural NOMOI, and has a gap rather than NOMOS at the start of §17—but primarily because although the subject of the ﬁrst of the three could be almost any type of litigation, it is hard to reconstruct a single statute that would cover both theft (Ruschenbusch 1966: frag. 25) and the right of lenders to charge interest (Ruschenbusch 1966: frag. 68): see further §18n.

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meaning ‘abscond without trial’: if this is a continuous text, it would seem logical to follow Hillgruber (1988: 71) in emending to add a negative to the second sentence, since the purpose of giving surety is presumably to guarantee the defendant’s appearance in court (such that ‘even if afraid, let him not abscond’).43 But the fragment here deals so exclusively with procedure that its substantive subject is obscure: Ruschenbusch classiﬁes it among such private delicts as murder, homicide, and serious wounding, but his reasons for this seem unclear. ὅστις δὲ ἀπίλλει τῇ θύρᾳ, ἔνδον τοῦ κλέπτου ὄντος (‘ “. . . whoever debars by means of the door while the thief is inside . . .” ’). Unlike its immediate precedecessor, this text (Ruschenbusch 1966: frag. 25) can clearly be identiﬁed as dealing with some category of theft, and the use of the door would seem to suggest that we are in or near the scene of the crime. One possibility is to read endon (‘inside’) as a reference to the house that has been the target of a failed burglary, in which case the subject of the sentence will presumably be the householder himself: perhaps because he is envisaged as keeping the thief inside the property, though the compounding preposition in the obsolete word apillo¯, together with the fact that Lysias glosses it as ‘shut out’,44 make it on balance more likely that the householder is being given the right to prevent the thief’s accomplices from rescuing him (thus e.g. Usher in Edwards & Usher 1985: 233). An alternative is to see the context as some form of house-search designed to catch an alleged thief, with the law for instance serving to prevent anybody barring the householder from the suspect’s house (thus Lipsius 1905–15: 440 n. 78, noting that rules for housesearches are envisaged by Plato, Laws, 954a5–b3), though in such a case it is hard to see why the thief should be indoors at the time. It is therefore tempting to accept the emendation suggested by Dobree (1874: 208), who noted a statement in a not-always-reliable lexicographer that Solon used the rare word klepos in his laws to denote the object stolen:45 klepous for kleptou, meaning ‘while the object stolen is inside’ would be an easy error both palaeographically and in terms of the difﬁcilior lectio principle; we might in such a case have expected Lysias to gloss this word as well as apillo¯, but it is of course possible that he himself read kleptou where the law had klepous. §18. τὸ ἀργύριον στάσιµον εἶναι ἐϕ̓ ὁπόσῳ αν βούληται ὁ δανείζων (‘ “. . . money is to be placed on the basis of whatever amount the lender wishes. . .” ’).46 Taken 43 Hillgruber (1988: 71) discusses the suggestion by some earlier critics that Apollo should be read as depending on epenguan rather than epiorke¯santa (‘let him cite Apollo as his surety, having sworn’), but rightly concludes that it is hard to yield any better sense on this basis. 44 Apokleio¯ with dative thurai seems elsewhere to have the sense of shutting somebody out rather than in: Isai. 6.40; Aristoph. Ekkles. 420. 45 Pollux 8.34: Σ*λων µ ντοι τ κλ µµα κλ πο ν το; ν*µοι 5ν*µασεν. Dobree is followed here in the addenda to Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924–26].i: 239). 46 As an explanation for the obsolete term στα´σιµο (cognate with sστηµι, to stand), Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 226–227) notes that Hesykhios offers the gloss στασα´µενον· δανεισα´µενον (‘that which is lent’); while Hillgruber (1988: 75) compares the sufﬁx of the term @βολοστα´τη and cognates (one of several words used to denote a moneylender, ﬁrst attested in Lys. frag. 209). Kroll suggests that the

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§18–19

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on its own, this fragment would most naturally be interpreted as part of a law regulating or permitting the charging of interest, which is how it is read by the majority of scholars, including for instance Ruschenbusch (1966: frag. 68). The view of Hillgruber (1988: 71), who regards the three quotations in §§17–18 as being all derived from a single statute (see last note but one), is that this was a special regulation dealing with the lending of money by a third party to a convicted thief to pay his ﬁne, but this seems rather a forced interpretation. ὦ βέλτιστε (‘my good man’), lit. ‘best ’. For the potentially patronising use of friendship terms when used by speakers wishing to mark themselves out as superior in debate, see Dickey (1996: 133). The frequency with which the vocative is addressed to the opponent in this speech is discussed at p. 636 above. ἐπανάγνωθι τουτουὶ τοῦ νόµου τὸ τελευταῖον (‘please read also the ﬁnal part of this law’). The referent of the deictic pronoun (for which cf. §11n) is grammatically ambiguous, since it could mean ‘the ﬁnal part of the law that we have just had’, or alternatively ‘the ﬁnal part of the following law’; the latter interpretation, however, as we shall see (following note), seems preferable in terms of subject-matter. The verb in this sentence has been doubted by many scholars, on the grounds that we might expect the double compound to mean ‘re-read’ (thus Sykutris 1933: 80), which is clearly an inappropriate way of introducing a fresh quotation, whether from the same or from a different text. §19. ὅσαι δὲ πεϕασµένως πωλοῦνται (‘ “. . . all those women who go abroad overtly” ’). In view of the glosses offered by Lysias for pephasmeno¯s and po¯lesthai, this fragment (Ruschenbusch 1966: frag. 29b=30b) evidently relates to some category of persons who ‘walk around in public’, but it is important to bear in mind that the female correlative pronoun printed and translated here is an emendation.47 There is no obvious association of subject-matter with the previous laws quoted, though the use of kai (‘and’) suggests that what we have in §19 is two phrases from the same law (for possible connection, see following note). Editors have traditionally taken this fragment as a reference to female prostitution, on the basis of similarity with Plut. Solon, 23.1, and Dem. 59.67, together with several entries in Harpokration. In the ﬁrst of these passages, Plutarch claims that Solon imposed ﬁnes of varying severity for sexual violence committed against a free

metaphor in stasimos here is one of weighing (Kroll 1998: 228), and indeed argues that all the monetary references in Solonian laws are to weighed rather than coined silver (1998: 225, listing references in the laws to ‘drachmas’); the proposition that Solon is unlikely to have been thinking of coined money is supported by Kim’s survey of the early spread of coinage (Kim 2001). 47 Albeit a widely accepted and palaeographically simple one: hosai for the manuscript’s masculine hosoi, which would mean ‘all those men’ or possibly ‘all those people’. Assuming the subject of the fragment is prostitution (cf. below), this could in theory include prostitution by males, but male prostitutes were unlikely to have been included if the aim was to identify a class of persons whose sexual activities could not form the basis of an accusation of adultery.

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10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §19

woman (100 drachmas) and for procuring (20 drachmas),48 before adding the rider that such penalties did not apply in the case of ‘all those women who go about overtly, meaning hetairai’ (πλDν 9σαι πεφασµ νω πωλο'νται, λ γων τα` /ταρα). The other passage, as customarily printed, constitutes Apollodoros’ account of Epainetos’ defence to the charge of moikheia (broadly ‘adultery’, but see pp. 46–49 above) after his dalliance with Phano the putative daughter of Stephanos and/or Neaira; Epainetos’ argument, as reported to us, was that the law ‘does not permit anybody to seize an adulterer with these women, i.e. all those who sit at an ergaste¯rion49 or go about overtly’ (οκ a π τα$τbσι µοιχ ν λαβε;ν Kπ*σαι αgν π2 ργαστηρου καθνται e πωλνται α2ποπεφασµ νω). The consensus of scholars interpreting these passages has however been challenged by Johnstone (2002), who notes that our text of Dem. 59.67 is the product of extensive emendation,50 itself the work of scholars proceeding from the assumption that the three passages do refer to the same law; Johnstone, by contrast, argues that there is evidence (in Harpokration s.v. po¯lo¯si) for dispute in antiquity as to whether this passage denoted metaphorical selling by prostitutes or actual selling by female merchants. What Johnstone has succeeded in showing is that even as emended there are signiﬁcant verbal variants between the passages (which he lists at 2002: 241), and that Plutarch’s version is explicitly a composite of several different laws (2002: 242). But to the extent that his argument seeks to differentiate Apollodoros’ law from that of Lysias, and to the extent that it is not obviously in Lysias’ interests here to offer misleading glosses, there seems no good reason to reject the view that prostitution is the subject of this fragment. οἰκῆος καὶ δούλης τὴν βλάβην εἶναι ὀϕείλειν (‘ “let it be permitted to owe the damage of an oikeus and of a doule¯” ’), i.e. of a male and of a female slave. The text printed here is that of Carey, which I have translated on the basis of LSJ s.v. eimi A.VI ‘it is possible’ + inﬁn. This sticks about as close to the manuscript as is comprehensibly possible, and certainly much closer than the majority of previous editors: Carey notes cautiously that it could refer either to damage inﬂicted by a slave or else to slaves who have suffered violence. The manuscript reading at 48 καgν προαγωγε$b: Perrin (Loeb) translates ‘if he gained his end by persuasion’, and Scott-Kilvert (Penguin) similarly ‘if the man seduced her’, but this may be based on assumptions derived from a naïve reading of the argument about seduction and rape in Lys. 1 (if Plutarch were differentiating the penalties between these two offences, the failure to mention this at 1.32–33 would seem surprising): certainly proago¯geuo¯ in Aiskhin. 1.14 and 1.184 denotes not the act of intercourse, but that of hiring out a woman or child to a third party for this purpose. 49 Lit. ‘workshop’: Johnstone (2002: 248 n. 53) argues against Kapparis (1999: 312) that Aiskhin. 1.124 does not prove the use of ergaste¯rion as a synonym for brothel at this date, though he does acknowledge that it has this meaning in several later sources: what Aiskhin. 1.114 and (on Johnstone’s reading) Dem. 59.67 do suggest is that prostitution could be regarded as an ergasia (trade) and a brothel as a type of ergaste¯rion. 50 In particular, the substitution of πωλνται (‘they go about’, read as the frequentative of πολ οµαι, or possibly ‘they sell themselves’, read as middle of πωλ ω) for the ms πωλσ τι (‘they sell something’), and the deletion of the phrase ‘in the Agora’ which immediately precedes this verb in the ms.

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§19–20

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this point is οκ8ο κα βλα´βη τDν δο$λην εjναι @φελειν, and some scholars have simply obelised the central phrase (e.g. Ruschenbusch 1966: frag. 34 and Hillgruber 1988: 78–79), since no sense can be made of owing (lit.) ‘the doule¯ of an oikeus and of damage’. The most common remedy has been to see diple¯n (‘double’, sc. damage) as having dropped out of the manuscript, either through dittography or corruption because of the proximity of the doule¯. This has yielded versions such as οκ8ο κα δο$λη διπλ8ν τDν βλα´βην @φελειν (Frohberger), which he reads as a third party’s having to pay double the damage ‘of’—i.e. for that suffered by—a male or female slave.51 This does however raise the question ‘double what’, and other editors (e.g. Gernet & Bizos, Fernández-Galiano) have adopted the further emendation haple¯n for diple¯n,52 making this a reference to ‘single’ damage, and hypothesising a contrast with the payment of double damages which Lysias elsewhere claims were payable in cases of violent sexual assault against some categories of free person.53 The proposition that the present fragment could derive from a context referring to damage suffered as the result of sexual assault seems to me not impossible, since it is easy to envisage how this could have been included in a law which also sought to deﬁne prostitutes (particularly if the latter deﬁnition was itself set in a context that excluded them from provisions dealing with procedures against adultery). But the argument that what we have here is single damages for raping a slave and double that tariff for raping a free person seems to me unlikely, for reasons set out at 1.32n. πρόσεχε τὸν νοῦν (‘pay attention’). The plural form prosekhete is found in the manuscript and accepted by several editors (Hude, Lamb, Fernández-Galiano, Usher): in favour of Müller’s emendation, which is accepted by Carey, is that whereas patronising the opponent is in this speech a deliberate strategic decision, it is much more risky to patronise the jury (for the risk, see p. 636 above). §20. πολλὰ δὲ τοιαῦτα καὶ αλλα ἐστίν (‘there are many other examples of this type’). This serves to turn what could be a criticism (that the various statutes quoted at §§16–19 move from topic to topic without internal coherence) into a strength: the phenomenon of obsolete language for which he has been arguing is present throughout the law, so much so that everybody instinctively knows how to handle it.

Similarly Thalheim’s οκ8ο τ8 βλα´βη τDν διπλ8ν τµην @φελειν (double the value of the damage suffered by the slave), or Lamb’s closely similar οκ8ο [κα ] βλα´βη τDν διπλ8ν εjναι @φελειν, though in each of these cases the doule¯ has disappeared, leaving simply the male oikeus. 52 Photiades (1906: 45 with n. 2) reports this as a conjecture suggested to him by Blass pers. comm.; it is discussed and accepted also by Lipsius (1905–15: 639 n. 9). 53 Lys. 1.32. It is, however, palaeographically much more difﬁcult to explain the putative corruption at 10.19 of αBπλ8ν than that of διπλ8ν into δο$λην. A simpler way of achieving the same ends, as Chris Carey has suggested to me, would be to look for a genitive of comparison in οκ8ο τ8 βλα´βη τDν διπλ8ν @φελειν, vel. sim., reading it as ‘let the defendant <whose victim is free> owe double the damages payable for a slave victim’. 51

686

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§20–22

ἀλλ̓ εἰ µὴ σιδηροῦς ἐστιν (‘if he is not made of iron’). Implying a combination of shamelessness (as at Aristoph. Akharn. 492), insensitivity (as at Aiskhin. 3.166) and also perhaps stubbornness (as at Homer, Iliad, 22.357). οἰχήσεται γὰρ ἀπιὼν ἀπὸ τοῦ βήµατος σιωπῇ (‘because he will leave the speaker’s rostrum and go away in silence’). For the be¯ma, see §15n. For silence as indicating the inability to rebut the other person’s argument, see 1.14n. §21. τὰ δίκαια ψηϕίσασθαι (‘to cast your votes in accordance with justice’). For the topos, see 3.47n. ἀκοῦσαι τὸν πατέρα <ἀπεκτονέναι> (‘to be described as having killed one’s father’). For akouo¯ meaning ‘to be called’, see §2n. πάσας τὰς ἀσπίδας ἐρριϕέναι ἢ τοιαύτην γνώµην ἔχειν περὶ τὸν πατέρα (‘to have discarded every shield than to have such an attitude towards my father’). Rather a careful contrast, between a hypothetical but exaggerated version of the action which he attributes to but never explicitly predicates of Theomnestos (note the use of the plural for exaggeration, and cf. §1n, §9n, §22n, §25n, §28n, and §30n for the care taken throughout the speech never to make the allegation unambiguously in his own voice), and a version of Theomnestos’ own allegation which distances itself from reality by representing it as an attitude which the speaker might display towards his father rather than an action he might actually have committed.

§§22–29: Proofs in Conﬁrmation In contrast to the refutation of Theomnestos’ main argument at §§6–21, the arguments put forward to conﬁrm the speaker’s own case contain quite a bit of embedded narrative about one of the earlier trials in the sequence (Theomnestos’ prosecution of Dionysios is apparently the subject of somewhat cryptic allusions at §22 and §24, and an anecdote at §25 about the latter’s dignity following conviction). This is combined with repeated references to the speaker’s father’s record (esp. §§27–28, but also §23), and implied contrasts with that of Theomnestos and his family (§23, §§28–29). §22. οὗτος οὖν ἔνοχος µὲν ὢν τῇ αἰτίᾳ (‘this man was liable to the charge’), i.e. Theomnestos was liable to the prosecution brought by Lysitheos at §1. We might have expected a slightly more speciﬁc reference, in the way that orators will speak for instance of being ‘liable for homicide’ (enokhoi phonou, Ant. 1.11), but there is a close parallel at Isai. 11.15, where Theopompos denies being ‘liable to these charges’ (-νοχοι τα$ται τα; αται). ἐλάττονος δὲ οὔσης αὐτῷ τῆς συµϕορᾶς (‘and the disaster which faced him was comparatively minor’). For the use of the term ‘disaster’ to denote judicial conviction, see Dem. 21.58 (a case of astrateia or refusal of military service, where conviction would entail atimia). It is by no means clear what is meant by describing the consequences of conviction by Lysitheos as being ‘comparatively

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §22

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minor’, though Hillgruber (1988: 84) is probably right to infer from the start of the following sentence that the contrast is with the perils faced by the speaker if he loses the current trial (for which see also §31n): he rightly emphasises that this contrast ignores the fact that the speaker is currently prosecutor rather than defendant, such that formally it is he who faces the smaller risk. On the assumption that Lysitheos’ initial prosecution of Theomnestos took the form of dokimasia rhe¯toro¯n (§1n), I have in the past wondered whether the point is that conviction in such a case would have simply declaratory rather than penal force,54 but am now inclined to accept the argument of Wallace (1998: 70–71, 75) that those involved in the parallel case of Timarkhos in Aiskhin. 1 were scrupulously careful not to use the language of atimia until after his conviction. οὐ µόνον ὑϕ̓ ὑµῶν ἠλεήθη (‘he did not simply receive pity at your hands’). In an effort to avoid reading this as an allusion to the putative acquittal of Theomnestos in the case brought against him by Lysitheos (see p. 628 above), Hillgruber (1988: 84) suggests that it could refer instead to the disfranchisement of Dionysios (see following note). This is possible, though references in Lysias to pity as something that the opponent does not deserve tend to be used not about prosecutors but about defendants (as at §26n).55 ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸν µαρτυρήσαντα ἠτίµωσεν (‘but also caused the former witness to lose his civic rights’), lit. ‘made him atimos’. What is clear from this passage is that Theomnestos had brought a dike¯ pseudomarturio¯n (i.e. prosecution for false witness) against somebody who had given testimony evidently in the case brought against him by Lysitheos, and that the witness had been convicted and had suffered atimia (loss of civic rights). We are not at this point told the name of the witness, but it is reasonable to infer that it is Dionysios, in view of the account at §§24–25 of the latter’s having suffered atimia apparently following conviction in a dike¯ pseudomarturio¯n: for a reconstruction of the somewhat cryptic allusions in this speech to previous trials, see pp. 627–630 above. The fate suffered by Dionysios deserves attention, because Andokides’ account of atimia is explicit that this was the penalty for a third offence of false testimony (Andok. 1.74), and Hypereides claims that this ‘three lies and you’re out’ rule was the reason why witnesses who had been twice convicted of the offence were exempted from any future requirement to testify (Hyp. Philipp. §12). The present passage, however, is one of two in the Orators which state either as fact (here) or as hypothesis (the case of Leokhares at Isai. 5.17–19) that a witness convicted in a particular case

54 That is, the effect of conviction would be to formalise the loss of those rights that even previously he had not been entitled to exercise (thus tentatively Todd 1993: 116 n. 15). 55 Similarly 12.79 do not show sungno¯me¯ (forgiveness) or eleos (pity); 14.40 do not set sungno¯me¯, eleos, or kharis (personal favour) above the laws and your oath; 28.11 do not regard kerdos (proﬁt) or eleos as more important than timo¯ria (vengeance/punishment) against the defendants. Ant. 1.21, however, does speak of the victim of homicide as deserving eleos, boe¯theia (help) and timo¯ria from the jury.

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either did suffer or could have suffered atimia,56 which raises the question as to why this penalty applied in these cases. The following explanations have been put forward: ﬁrst, that atimia in these two cases will have been an additional penalty imposed by the jury during the process of time¯sis (for which cf. §16n); second, that there may have been an otherwise unattested talionic rule that testimony which would have led to the original defendant suffering atimia (as would presumably have been the case for Theomnestos) would lead automatically to a convicted witness’s suffering the same penalty; third, that in each case atimia is shorthand for a heavy ﬁnancial penalty which has left the defendant unable to pay off the resulting debt (for the claim that those who are poor face atimia where the rich can pay a ﬁne, see Isok. 16.47); and ﬁnally that the witnesses in these cases both had two otherwise unattested previous convictions.57 None of these hypotheses is unproblematic: Lipsius objects to the ﬁrst on the grounds that we have no other evidence for atimia’s being imposed by time¯sis; the second might account for the present case, but not for that of Leokhares, whose testimony was given in a property case which would not have caused his opponent to become atimos; against the third hypothesis, Dionysios is represented at §25 as speaking as if his conviction had led immediately to atimia, rather than (as would happen in the case of an unpaid debt, whether to the state or to the opponent) following either his failure to pay by the ninth prytany or alternatively an intervening dike¯ exoule¯s; and, although the fourth hypothesis could just about account for the present case on its own,58 it is hard to match it with Isai. 5.17–19, where the speaker seems to imply that atimia was only one of the possible penalties which he might have been able to inﬂict when the votes to convict the witness were prepared for counting. The puzzle must remain unresolved. ἐγὼ δὲ ἑορακὼς µὲν ἐκεῖνο τοῦτον ποιήσαντα ὃ καὶ ὑµεῖς ἴστε (‘I, on the other hand, have seen this man commit the action which you also know about’), i.e. the speaker (who evidently was Dionysios’ fellow-witness, cf. §30) saw Theomnestos throw away his shield—but is very careful not to say this explicitly, for fear of rendering himself liable to renewed legal action. For the care taken to keep the point alive by innuendo rather than direct statement, see §1n, §9n, §25n, and §28n. µεγίστης δὲ οὔσης µοι τῆς συµϕορᾶς, εἰ ἀποϕεύξεται (‘the disaster that faces me if 56 Other passages are less conclusive, because they simply indicate that atimia or a ﬁne were penalties that could be imposed for pseudomarturia (Dem. 29.16, and cf. Ant. First Tetralogy, 4.7), but both of these could easily be read as meaning that ﬁrst- and second-time convictions led to one of these penalties and third-time convictions to the other. 57 Supporters of these various hypotheses, several of whom (as noted in the text) give reasons for objecting to the alternatives, include the following: (i) Leisi (1907: 132), Gernet & Bizos (1955 [1924].i: 149 n. 2); (ii) Bonner & Smith (1930–38.ii: 264); (iii) Lipsius (1905–15: 256 n. 4), Hillgruber (1988: 84), and by implication Wyse (1904: 426); (iv) Calhoun (1916: 387–388), MacDowell (1962: 66). 58 Calhoun (1916: 388 n. 1) rightly claims that ‘the admission that Dionysios had twice before been convicted would have been a sad anticlimax to the passage’, but if the jury knew that this was the reason for his atimia, we might have expected more care on Lysias’ part to distance his client from a serial perjurer.

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§22–24

689

he is acquitted is very great’). For the oddity of this comparison, see last note but three. δίκην παῤ αὐτοῦ λήψοµαι (‘exact a penalty from him’). For the idiom, see 1.29n. §23. τίνος ὄντος ἐµοὶ πρὸς ὑµᾶς ἐγκλήµατος (‘what accusation has he brought before you against me’). Enkle¯ma is used of the indictment normally (as here) in a private case, though for an apparent exception, see 9.3n. πότερον ὅτι δικαίως ἀκήκοα; (‘is it because I have been justiﬁably defamed?’), lit. ‘I hear (i.e. am described) justly’: for the idiom, see §2n. ἀλλ̓ ὅτι βελτίων καὶ ἐκ βελτιόνων ὁ ϕεύγων ἐµοῦ; (‘or because the defendant is better than I am, and from a better family?’). For the same phrase used in praise of birth and ancestry, cf. Dem. 18.10 (of the speaker himself) and Dem. 22.63 (of persons other than the opponent). ἀλλ̓ οὐχ οὗτος ὁ λόγος ἐν τῇ πόλει κατεσκέδασται (‘but that is not the story which has scattered itself through the polis’). Kataskedannumi is used twice elsewhere in the Orators, once of rumour spread against the speaker by the opponent (Dem. 18.50), and the other time of the contents of chamber pots (Dem. 54.4). There may therefore, as suggested by Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 228) be ‘a notion of hostility in the word’. §24. µεγάλην καὶ καλὴν ἐκείνην δωρεάν (‘that great and beautiful gift’). Evidently a reference to the conviction of Dionysios for false testimony (cf. §22n). The use of ‘gift’ to denote an outcome desirable to the recipient is not without parallel in the Orators—at Aiskhin. 1.111, for instance, it denotes the Boule¯’s receipt of the customary honoriﬁc decree—but the metaphor here is unusually strong. ἐν ᾗ τίς οὐκ αν ἐλεήσειε ∆ιονύσιον (‘who in this context would not pity Dionysios?’), lit. ‘in which’ (i.e. in the context of the gift). This is the ﬁrst mention of the witness’s name, which reappears in passing at §30: the impossibility of identifying this particular Dionysios is noted at p. 628 n. 13 above. τοιαύτῃ µὲν συµϕορᾷ περιπεπτωκότα (‘has met with such a terrible disaster’). To describe atimia (loss of civic rights, cf. §22n) as a sumphora—the same word for ‘disaster’ that is routinely used by Lysias (e.g. 12.43, 16.4) to describe the defeat at Aigospotamoi—is not unparalleled: Isok. 16.47 claims that it is a worse sumphora than exile, and Lys. 25.11 speaks of ‘those who suffered atimia, conﬁscation of property or other similar sumphora’. To go into such detail in an attempt to elicit pathos for somebody who has been convicted (and in the jury’s eyes therefore presumptively discredited) is surprising. The nearest equivalent is the defence of Straton in Dem. 21.83–99, but there Demosthenes takes a lot more trouble to represent Straton as an impartial ﬁgure (he had been involved as ofﬁcial arbitrator rather than as witness) who had come to grief because of a judicial subterfuge on the part of Demosthenes’ opponent Meidias. Here by contrast the strategy is in some ways more high-risk, because no attempt is made to argue that

690

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§24–27

Dionysios’ jury was misled by Theomnestos: this may imply a gamble on Lysias’ part that by this stage in the speech he will have succeeded in so distancing Theomnestos from the sympathies of the present jury that they will not interpret this as an attack on their predecessors. ἐν τοῖς κινδύνοις (‘in the face of danger’). In the light of §25, this presumably refers to the battle-line. §25. ὅτι δυστυχεστάτην ἐκείνην εἴηµεν στρατείαν ἐστρατευµένοι (‘that we had been engaged in a particularly disastrous campaign’). Given that Athens is not known to have been at war at the time of the speech in 384/3, and that Theomnestos seems still to be a fairly young man (§29n), it has been plausibly suggested that the campaign in question may have been one of those during the Corinthian War (395–387): e.g. perhaps the battle of the Nemea River in 394 (see in more detail 3.45n), which is described by Xen. Hell. 4.2.20–21 in terms that imply substantial Athenian hoplite losses at least from six of the ten tribes. This would imply that Lysitheos’ prosecution was making use of quite an old allegation to thwart the career of a would-be rising politician: although Athenians could attend the Assembly at age 18 and speak probably from age 20, there was evidently social pressure for young men to hold back from addressing the Assembly (cf. Lys. 16.20), possibly until reaching the age of 30, which was the minimum for public ofﬁce. The speaker himself is certainly in his early thirties (§4) and from a politically-active family (§27), and their rivalry (for which see e.g. §23 and §28) might have an added edge if they were virtual contemporaries. ἐν ᾗ πολλοὶ µὲν ἡµῶν ἀπέθανον (‘in which many of us had died’). The explicit inclusion of the ﬁrst person plural pronoun serves at least subconsciously to associate the speaker and the jury alongside Dionysios with the militarily virtuous, in implied contrast to Theomnestos. οἱ δὲ σῴσαντες τὰ ὅπλα ὑπὸ τῶν ἀποβαλόντων ψευδοµαρτυρίων ἑαλώκασι (‘and those who had kept their shields had been convicted of false witness by those who threw them away’). This is one of the passages which comes closest to stating as a fact that Theomnestos had been guilty of throwing away his shield (cf. §1n, §9n, §22n, §28n, and §30n), but in the absence of rules of defamation like those in English law which deﬁne ‘publication’ so as to include passing on the statements of others, the speaker could presumably have sought to defend himself by arguing that these were Dionysios’ words rather than his. §26. µὴ τοίνυν ἀκούσαντα Θεόµνηστον κακῶς τὰ προσήκοντα ἐλεεῖτε (‘so do not pity Theomnestos, if he has been described in unﬂattering but ﬁtting terms’), lit. ‘having heard badly things that are ﬁtting’. An unusual use of kako¯s akouo¯, which elsewhere in this speech is translated ‘I am maligned’ (§11, §13, §28). For pity as something which Lysias seeks to deny to opposing defendants, see §22n. §27. ὃς πολλάκις µὲν ἐστρατήγησε (‘my father [lit. “who”] served as General on

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§27–28

691

many occasions’). For the possible identity of the speaker’s father, see pp. 637– 638 above. It is perhaps slightly unusual to focus on his military record to the exclusion of his liturgies (contrast 3.47n), but this may be intended as an ad hominem contrast with the alleged offence of Theomnestos. οὔτε τοῖς πολεµίοις τὸ ἐκείνου σῶµα ὑποχείριον ἐγένετο (‘he himself [lit. “his body”] never fell into the hands of the enemy’). For the conjunction of so¯ma with hupokheirios, see 4.5n. οὔτε τοῖς πολίταις οὐδεµίαν πώποτε ὦϕλεν εὐθύνην (‘and he never owed any euthune¯ to the citizens’). Euthunai (the judicial accounting required of Athenian ofﬁcials at the end of their term, cf. 9.11n) is normally plural, but the singular is occasionally attested elsewhere (e.g. at 25.30). The verb ophliskano¯ (lit. ‘to owe’) is frequently used of somebody who incurs a debt as the result of losing a case in which he was the defendant, such that the ellipse ‘to owe a dike¯ ’ comes to mean ‘to be convicted in a law-suit’ (thus e.g. §8n). On this basis, we would expect this passage to mean that the speaker’s father was never convicted when he presented his accounts, rather than that he never failed to present them.59 ἐν ὀλιγαρχίᾳ δἰ εὔνοιαν τοῦ ὑµετέρου πλήθους ἀπέθανεν (‘he was killed during the oligarchy, because of his goodwill towards your democracy’). For ple¯thos as ‘democracy’, see 9.15n. Lysias tends to use the deﬁnite article with oligarkhia where the reference is to the régime of the Thirty (e.g. 12.59, 18.4, 25.13, 30.13), omitting it when referring to oligarchy as a system of government (1.2, 7.41, 10.4), but the rule is not absolute, and 12.78 uses it without the article in much the same way as here. §28. ὡς καὶ ἐκείνου κακῶς ἀκηκοότος (‘on the grounds that he too has been maligned’). Probably (as translated here) a genitive absolute referring to the speaker’s father, but the use of such a construction is slightly odd given that the father has just been mentioned in the dative. The alternative would be to read it as a reference to the speaker himself (‘as being of a man who too is maligned’), but it would be hard to ﬁnd parallels for ekeinos (‘that man’) being used to denote the speaker. τί γὰρ αν . . . ἀνιαρότερον γένοιτο αὐτῷ (‘what more dreadful fate could befall him’). This is one of two phrases in §§28–29 where scholars have detected verbal overlap with 2.73, the context of which relates similarly to violent death, but in that case to the prospect of fathers’ having to bury sons who have died in battle.60 59 Cf. Aiskhin. 3.10, where a hypothetical conviction for embezzlement is described with the words κλοπ8 cνεκα τα` ε?θυνα @φληκ= (‘he owed euthunai on account of his klope¯ ’). 60 The overlapping phrases are (i) τ γα`ρ αgν το$του α2νιαρ*τερον γ νοιτο ατ (‘what more dreadful fate could befall him’) here and τ γα`ρ αgν το$των α2νιαρ*τερον γ νοιτο (‘what could be more dreadful’) at 2.73, each of which is followed by a gap of 45–55 words and then (ii) 9σ µεζου εσ κα νεαναι τα` dψει, τοσο$τ µα˜λλον @ργ8 α%ξιο εσι (‘the more impressive and youthful they are in appearance, the more they deserve your anger’) at §29 and 9σ γα`ρ α%νδρε α2µενου :σαν, τοσο$τ το; καταλειποµ νοι τ π νθο µε;ζον (‘the braver men they were, the greater the grief for those bereaved’) again at 2.73.

692

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§28–29

Although the second parallel relates more to grammar than to phrasing, and would probably not have attracted attention on its own, nevertheless the conjunction with the ﬁrst makes it more striking, and Sykutris (1933: 86 n. 1) in my view goes too far to dismiss it as simple coincidence or convention. But in neither speech is the sentiment obviously maladroit, and on this basis Hillgruber (1988: 94–95) is surely right to conclude that the overlap has no signiﬁcance for the authorship of either work, since even if the authors are different there is no indication as to which was copying the other.61 αἰτίαν δ̓ ἔχειν ὑπὸ τῶν παίδων (‘and to be reproached by children’). Aitian ekho¯ is ‘to bear reproach’, ‘carry blame’, or frequently ‘be accused (sc. of a crime)’. The addition by some editors (see Carey’s apparatus) of ane¯ire¯sthai as at 11.10, or its synonym tethnanai, both meaning ‘to be killed’, would mean that the speaker’s father was having posthumously to suffer the humiliation of being seen as somebody who had been killed by his own children, which makes perfectly good sense but restricts itself to the enhancement of pathos. The manuscript reading, on the other hand, embodies a much sharper allegation against the opponent, because it implies that the children in question are those of the speaker’s father’s enemies, which can only mean that Theomnestos is being presented not simply as the sort of person who attacks the reputation of a democratic war-hero, but that Theomnestos’ father is being associated with the supporters of the Thirty who had been responsible for that hero’s death: there is admittedly no other evidence within the speech for this allegation, but it would not be out of place with the immediately following attack on Theomnestos’ father’s cowardice. τὰ δὲ τούτου καὶ τοῦ τούτου πατρὸς τῆς κακίας πρὸς τοῖς τῶν πολεµίων (‘whereas those of this man’s and of his father’s weakness are in those of your enemies’), ie. the shields which the enemy had captured from them, just as the memorials of the speaker’s father’s bravery are the shields that he had captured from enemies of Athens: yet another indirect hint at Theomnestos’ alleged offence (cf. §1n, §9n, §22n, §25n, and §30n). Shuckburgh (1892 [1882]: 229) glosses the use of pros + dat. as ‘ “at”, not inside, but either on the walls or near the temple’. For the practice of dedicating captured armour in sanctuaries, see e.g. Thuc. 3.114.1 (300 hoplite panoplies ‘in the Athenian hiera’), and Aiskhin. 3.116 (where the Thebans complain of Athenian impiety in dedicating ﬁfty shields at a new temple before its dedication, but the complaint clearly relates to the order of events rather than the location); evidence for dedications of booty more generally is collected by Pritchett (1971–91.i: 93–100). For the idea that dedications e.g. of khore¯gic monuments could serve as witness testimony (marturia), see Isai. 5.41. §29. ὅσῳ µείζους εἰσὶ καὶ νεανίαι τὰς ὄψεις (‘the more impressive and youthful they are in appearance’). Presumably a conspiratorial plural, as at 3.46n. For the 61 Blass (1880: 184), who initially inferred from the parallels that both speeches were the product of the same post-Classical author, subsequently retracted this view, accepting sp. 10 as a genuine work of Lysias (1887: 607–608 [not in 1868 edn.]) while continuing to reject sp. 2 (1887 [1868]: 444).

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§29–30

693

verbal overlap with 2.73, see §28n. The signiﬁcance of Theomnestos’ age is discussed at §25n.

§30: Further Set of Proofs in Refutation Whereas the previous set of such proofs (§§6–21) was introduced with the claim to be anticipating the re-performance of an argument which the opponent had already made before the arbitrator, here we have instead a claim to be refuting an argument which is attributed to the opponent only in the form ‘I hear he will say’. For the anticipation of arguments, see Dorjahn (1935), cited at §6n.62 §30. ἐµοῦ µαρτυρήσαντος τὴν αὐτὴν µαρτυρίαν ∆ιονυσίῳ (‘because I had given the same testimony as Dionysios’). Presumably therefore as a second witness in Lysitheos’ prosecution of Theomnestos, which would help explain why it was on that occasion that the latter described him as a parricide (see §1n, and cf. also next note but two). ὅτι ὁ νοµοθέτης οὐδεµίαν ὀργῇ συγγνώµην δίδωσιν (‘that the lawgiver does not offer any indulgence to anger’), lit. ‘forgiveness’ (sungno¯me¯), as in the ﬁnal phrase of §30. For the tendency to speak about the mind-set of the lawgivers where we might talk about the law, see e.g. 1.31n, 1.33n, and 3.42n. ἐὰν µὴ ἀποϕαίνῃ ὡς ἔστιν ἀληθῆ τὰ εἰρηµένα (‘if does not show that the statement is true’). The implications for ‘truth’ as a defence in dikai kake¯gorias are discussed at pp. 634–635 above. ἐγὼ δὲ δὶς ἤδη περὶ τούτου µεµαρτύρηκα (‘twice already I have been a witness about this matter’). One of these occasions will have been at Lysitheos’ prosecution of Theomnestos (see last note but two): the other is unspeciﬁed, but a plausible occasion would be in support of Dionysios’ defence against Theomnestos’ prosecution for false witness (for which cf. §22 and §§24–25). If so, the speaker may well have good reason for believing that he himself may be the next person to be prosecuted unless Theomnestos can be stopped. τοῖς δὲ ἀποβάλλουσι συγγνώµην ἔχετε (‘but forgive those who do the throwing away’). Once again (cf. §1n, §9n, §22n, §25n, and §28n), direct repetition of the allegation is avoided, this time by making it a generalising statement about the present, rather than one speciﬁcally about Theomnestos’ past.

§§31–32: Peroration A brief but lively ending, which reiterates some of the themes of the speech and expresses some of the standard topoi expected in a peroration, but adds (presumably in further rebuttal of the allegation of parricide made against him) 62 Bateman (1958a: 170 n. 121) suggests that the reason for including this passage at the end of the speech is that it would have disrupted the ﬂow of the argument if included earlier but nevertheless could not be completely ignored: he cites as a parallel Mantitheos’ argument about people’s having objected to his speaking in the Assembly at a young age (16.20–21).

694

10. Against Theomnestos, 1: Commentary §§31–32

the previously unmentioned claim to have taken proceedings against his father’s killers. §31. ἀγών (‘contest’), i.e. law-court trial, cf. §1n. τῇ δ̓ αὐτῇ ψήϕῳ ϕόνου ϕεύγω τοῦ πατρός (‘but in the same vote I am also the defendant on a charge of murdering my father’), i.e. if Theomnestos is acquitted, it will be taken as proving the truth of his claim that the speaker had committed parricide: for the perils which the speaker claims to be facing if he loses the current trial, see §22n. ἐπειδὴ τάχιστα ἐδοκιµάσθην (‘as soon as I had passed my dokimasia’), i.e. came of age. Dokimasia or ‘scrutiny’ was the term applied to half-a-dozen loosely related procedures at which was tested the right to an ofﬁce, rank or privilege. With one exception (the scrutiny of orators, for which see 10.1n), the dokimasia had to be satisfactorily completed in advance. In the case of public ofﬁcials, for instance, it took place before entering ofﬁce, and in that of cavalry before their military service commenced; hence the use of the term also—as here—to denote the process by which young Athenian males on reaching the age of majority were scrutinised by a combination of deme, Boule¯, and law-court to check that they were of citizen birth and had reached the age of majority (probably 18, possibly the 18th year: for the dispute, see Rhodes 1981: 497–498). ἐπεξῆλθον τοῖς τριάκοντα ἐν Ἀρείῳ πάγῳ (‘brought proceedings against the Thirty in the Areiopagos’). For this claim and its possible signiﬁcance—both in the context of the speaker’s attempts to dissociate himself from allegations of parricide and in terms of the inferences which some scholars have attempted to draw for the result of Lys. 12—see pp. 638–640 above. §32. καὶ τοῖς νόµοις τοῖς κειµένοις (‘of the established laws’). For the connotations of the phrase, see 1.48n (also from a peroration). καὶ τοῖς ὅρκοις οἷς ὀµωµόκατε (‘and of the oaths which you have sworn’). The oath sworn annually by the dikastai. For its contents, see e.g. Harrison (1968– 71.ii: 48). Its implications for the process of Athenian justice, and particularly the question of how far the clause to ‘vote in accordance with the laws’ bound the jurors to strict enforcement of the laws’ literal meaning, have been much discussed. To my mind the most sensitive reading of the ‘rule of law’ debate is that of Johnstone (1999: 22–42, with extensive reference to previous work), for whom the key factor is the ﬁction of the all-wise universal law-giver: this in his view enabled law to remain central to Athenian democratic ideology, while allowing its meaning to become contestable on the basis of intentions inferred from the legislator’s other enactments.

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696

ΚΑΤΑ ΘΕΟΜΝΗΣΤΟΥ Β

11 Prosecution against Theomnestos, Second Speech [1] That he said I had killed my father, many of you know and are testifying for me. As to the fact that I did not do so: I am aged thirty-two, and this is the twentieth year since you returned from exile. [2] It is clear therefore that I was aged twelve when my father was killed by the Thirty: as a result, I did not even know what an oligarchy was, nor was I capable of assisting my father. Moreover, nor I did plot against him for the sake of money, because the elder brother took everything and deprived us. [3] Perhaps he will say that it is not one of the aporrhe¯ta if somebody says that have killed <my> father; for the law does not forbid this, but bans one from saying ‘androphonos’. But I think it is necessary to argue not about the words but about the meaning of things, and that everybody recognizes that all those who kill people are also their androphonoi, and all those who are the androphonoi of somebody have also killed that person. [4] It would have been a considerable task for the lawgiver to mention all the words which have the same meaning. Instead, by talking about one, he made clear his views about them all. For you can hardly believe that if somebody called you patraloias or me¯traloias, he is legally liable, but that if somebody

698

XI. ΚΑΤΑ ΘΕΟΜΝΗΣΤΟΥ Β

11. Prosecution against Theomnestos, 2

699

said you hit the man or the woman who gave you birth, he will be unpunished. [5] And that if somebody calls you rhipsaspis, he will be immune, because the law sets out a penalty if somebody says that a person has thrown away his shield, but not if anybody says he has discarded it. Similarly also as one of the Eleven you would not accept the person arrested by apago¯ge¯, because he had stripped off somebody’s cloak or tunic, if he1 did not call him a lo¯podute¯s. [6] And if anybody abducted a child, as an andrapodiste¯s. You yourself prosecuted for defamation the person who said that you had discarded your shield. Yet it is not written in the law, but ‘if anybody says that one has thrown away’. How is it not extraordinary to interpret the laws in the way that I am now doing and seek vengeance on your enemies if somebody speaks about you, but to claim not to pay a penalty if you yourself are the speaker? [7] Come to my assistance, bearing in mind that it is a greater evil to be said to have killed one’s father than to be said to have discarded one’s shield. I myself would rather have thrown away all of them than to have had such an attitude towards my father. And yet I have seen the defendant doing as you also know, and I kept my own shield unscathed. For what reason therefore shall I not obtain justice at your hands? [8] What accusation is there against me? Is it because I have been justiﬁably maligned? But not even you yourselves would say so. Or because from a better family? But not even he himself would claim that. Or because I have thrown away my shield, and am bringing a dike¯ kake¯gorias against one who kept his safe? But that is not the story which has spread itself round the polis. [9] Do not pity one who is being described in unﬂattering but ﬁtting terms, and do not reserve your forgiveness for a person who commits hubris and who speaks against the laws—and this

1

The person carrying out the arrest.

700

11. ΚΑΤΑ ΘΕΟΜΝΗΣΤΟΥ Β

11. Prosecution against Theomnestos, 2

701

against a man who held many generalships, who with you faced many other dangers, who never fell into the hands of the enemy, and who did not owe any euthune¯ to you, but who ended his life at the age of seventy under the oligarchy because of your good will. [10] It is right to be angry on his behalf. For what more wretched thing could he be called, if after being killed by his enemies, he were to bear the reproach of having been killed by children? The memorials of his bravery are hung as dedications in your sanctuaries—and of the weakness of these men in those of your enemies. [11] He will say that he made the statement out of anger. You are aware, gentlemen of the jury, that the lawgiver does not offer any indulgence to anger: he punishes the speaker if he does not demonstrate truth. Twice already I have been a witness about this matter: I was not aware that you punish those who do the seeing, but forgive those who do the throwing away. So I beg you to convict him. [12] I am prosecuting now for defamation, but in the same vote I am also the defendant on a charge of murdering my father, and I could not be facing any more serious trial than that—I, who on my own, after I had passed my dokimasia, brought proceedings against the Thirty in the Areiopagos. Please come to the assistance of him and of myself.

Lysias 11. Against Theomnestos, 2: Commentary In view of the status of this speech as an epitome of Lys. 10, the following notes conﬁne their attention to the exploration of similarities and differences between the two speeches. In all, the epitome is about one-third the length of the original (574 words against 1,544). It will be noted that although in places the epitome is verbally so close to Lys. 10 as to enable textual emendation in the latter, nevertheless there are systematic omissions which are so substantial as to give us relatively little ﬂavour of the original speech. In particular, the whole section 10.13b-10.20 (dealing with laws in which the meanings of words have changed) is entirely omitted by the epitomiser, although this is the part of the speech that most interested the grammarians because of the glosses on archaic legal terms (cf. p. 626 with n. 8 above). Also omitted is a lot of the speciﬁcity, e.g. all the names and all the vocatives of address, and all the details of previous legal hearings which are relevant to the understanding of the context of the dispute. §1: A loose summary of 10.1 and a much closer paraphrase of the ﬁrst sentence of 10.4, ignoring completely the argument at 10.2–3 about the seriousness of the allegation of parridice. There is no mention of names (as at 10.1), nor of the judicial context of the alleged slander (10.1);1 and marturousi (‘are witnessing’) is an evident misunderstanding of the topos that the jury’s knowledge serves the function of witnesses (again 10.1). For the value of the speaker’s age here in correcting the manuscript reading in the main speech, see 10.4n. On the use of sunoidasin for the normal Attic form sunisasin, see Dover (1968: 167 n. 21). §2: A fairly close paraphrase of 10.4b-5, with some omissions of detail (e.g. Pantaleon’s name and the mention speciﬁcally of his guardianship), and one signiﬁcant difference (the speaker’s age at his father’s death is given as twelve rather than thirteen, presumably as the result of failure to count inclusively, cf. P.Oxy. hypothesis line 12, discussed at the start of the Commentary on speech 10). §3: A very close paraphrase of some parts of 10.6–7a: both halves of the ﬁrst sentence here, for instance, are identical in phrasing to the equivalent portions of

1

The suppression of previous judicial hearings is a general feature of this epitome: see 11.8n and 11.11n.

11. Against Theomnestos, 2: Commentary §§3–8

703

10.6 barring the substitution of one verbal synonym,2 but the epitomiser has omitted the suggestion that Theomnestos will ignore the points raised, along with any mention of the previous hearing before the arbitrator. The paraphrase of 10.7a shows slightly greater verbal divergence, but is still close enough to have suggested some textual emendations in the original speech here. §4: An initially close paraphrase of 10.7b, but becoming a rather looser version of 10.8: there is for instance no vocative addressed by name to Theomnestos as at 10.8 (cf. the absence of names at 11.1 and 11.2), and several of the more complex phrases are simpliﬁed. §5: A slightly pedestrian summary of 10.9 (omitting the ﬁrst sentence with its sarcastic direct attack on Theomnestos for nit-picking)—in which the order of the clauses is shifted around a bit, the language relating to penalties is changed, and the phrase ‘discard one’s shield’ (rhipsai te¯n aspida) has been turned into the noun rhipsaspis (not found in Lys. 10), before being repeated in a redundant clause—followed by a rather condensed version of 10.10a, which does not make it immediately clear that the clause about cloak and tunic is an allegation about the person arrested made by the person conducting the arrest, and that the latter is the subject of the conditional. §6: A very abbreviated summary of 10.10b (to the extent that the epitomiser seems not to have realised the point of the joke about andrapodiste¯s: the sequence of thought is evidently ‘if anybody abducted a child, . . .’), omitting 10.10c–10.12a, resuming with a fairly close paraphrase of 10.12b (but one which again omits the name,3 and also the 500-drachma penalty), and a version of 10.13a that is so abrupt as to be in itself scarcely comprehensible. §7: A rather abruptly introduced paraphrase of 10.21b, which omits the initial address to the jury (cf. 11.10n and 11.11n) but otherwise sticks fairly closely to the text barring the transposition of the two key verbs rhipto¯ (‘discard’) and apoballo¯ (‘throw away’), followed by two clauses taken loosely from 10.22. §8: A fairly close but very abbreviated version of 10.23, to the extent for instance of failing to point out that the ‘better family’ clause is a hypothesis relating to the opponent. The admittedly rather cryptic anecdote at 10.24–25 about the trial of Dionysios is entirely omitted by the epitomiser: indeed, the latter has (as noted at 11.1) omitted all reference to any of the sequence of trials that underlies the present case, and the only reference to any judicial event is a passing mention of the Areiopagos at 11.12.

φ^ for ε1πb: for the use of the latter with acc + inﬁn at 10.6, see LSJ s.v. λ γω III.2. As at 11.1, 11.2, and 11.4, which unfortunately therefore offers us no help over the manuscript reading at 10.12 (Theon or Lysitheos). 2 3

704

11. Against Theomnestos, 2: Commentary §§9–12

§9: A moderately close paraphrase of 10.26a (though the excision of Theomnestos’ name makes it less easy to follow), with rather an abrupt transition to the eulogy of the speaker’s father in 10.27, which is itself rather more loosely paraphrased, to the extent that the clause about euthunai loses much of its force,4 and the clause about dying because of his good-will towards the democracy becomes a statement about the democracy’s good-will, which is hardly a comprehensible cause of death. For the substitution of seventy for sixty-seven as his age at death, see P.Oxy. hypothesis line 12 (discussed at the start of the Commentary on speech 10). §10: A paraphrase of 10.28 which is fairly close verbally, to the extent that it forms the basis of a textual emendation in the original speech (the addition of hierois, ‘sanctuaries’). There are however some omissions (e.g. the address to the jury, the request to be angry speciﬁcally against the one who uttered the allegedly defamatory statement and to defend the speaker’s father speciﬁcally because he is being defamed, and the closing reference to in-bred cowardice, while the ad hominem jibe involved in the statement about the cowardice of ‘this man and his father’ becomes a rather more bland statement about ‘these men’), and also one apparent misunderstanding.5 The concluding attack on Theomnestos’ family at 10.29 is omitted. §11: A verbally fairly close but selective paraphrase of 10.30, omitting any basis (‘I hear . . .’) for the prediction that Theomnestos will plead anger, and omitting once again the addresses to the jury (cf. 11.7n and 11.10n). The speciﬁc context of his anger in the trial of Dionysios is also omitted (for the suppression of previous hearings from this epitome, cf. 11.1n and 11.8n), though the mention of having twice witnessed is retained without explanation. The clause about truth as a justiﬁcation is abbreviated heavily, but probably not to the extent of incomprehensibility. The closing clause6 is taken from 10.31a. §12: A fairly close paraphrase of 10.31b—this is the only reference to previous judicial proceedings to be retained by the epitomiser, and it is striking that it is the one that is least relevant to the present trial—with the inclusion of a clause transposed from 10.31a. This is followed by a very brief summary of 10.32, requesting help for the speaker and his father but omitting reference to the laws and the dikastic oath. By turning ο?τε . . . οδεµαν π=ποτε oφλεν (lit. ‘he never owed’) into the simple negative ο?τε . . . oφλεν (‘he did not owe’), the epitomiser has altered a general statement that the speaker’s father was in good standing vis-à-vis euthunai throughout his life into the banal assertion that he was in good standing at the end of his life (but not necessarily at earlier times during it). 5 The clause in 10.28 about being ‘killed by his enemies and . . . reproached by children’, which if the text is sound would appear to be an attempt to hint at an equation between Theomnestos’ father and the active supporters of the Thirty (see 10.28n), is rendered by the epitomiser as a simple repetition of the allegation of parricide (‘bear the reproach of having been killed by children’). 6 Omitted in error from Todd (2000a: 112), where an address to the jury has erroneously been included. 4

Abbreviations Journal Titles AHDO AJAH AJPh BICS BSA C&M CA CJ CPhil CQ CR CW G&R GRBS HSCP JHS JMA LCM Mus.Helv. NJPP P&P PCPS QUCC REG RFIC RIDA RSA SIFC TAPA TvR WS ZPE ZRG

Archives d’histoire du droit oriental American Journal of Ancient History American Journal of Philology Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Annual of the British School at Athens Classica et Mediaevalia California Studies in Classical Antiquity/Classical Antiquity Classical Journal Classical Philology Classical Quarterly Classical Review Classical World Greece & Rome Greek, Roman & Byzantine Studies Harvard Studies in Classical Philology Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology Liverpool Classical Monthly Museum Helveticum Neue Jahrbücher für Philologie und Pädagogik Past & Present Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica Revue des Études Grecques Rivista di Filologia e d’Istruzione Classica Revue Internationale des Droits de l’Antiquité Rivista Storica dell’ Antichità Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica Transactions and Proceedings/Transactions of the American Philological Association Tijdschrift voor rechtsgeschiedenis (= Revue d’histoire du droit) Wiener Studien Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte

Others APF IG LGPN Attica

See Davies (1971). Inscriptiones Graecae (1873– ). Berlin A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, vol. 2, Attica (1994), ed. M. J. Osborne & S. G. Byrne. Oxford.

706 LSJ NGSL OCD3 PA SEG

Abbreviations A Greek-English Lexicon (1940, with supplement 1968), ed. H. G. Liddell, R. Scott & H. S. Jones. Oxford. See Lupu (2005). Oxford Classical Dictionary (3rd edn., 1996), ed. S. Hornblower & A. Spawforth. Oxford. See Kirchner (1901–03). Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum (1923– ). Leiden (until 1971), Aalpen aan den Rijn & Germantown, MD (since 1979).

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Index Locorum This is intended to be much the most comprehensive of the four Indexes, at least to the extent that space within the volume permits, on the grounds that readers interested in a particular passage may wish to locate not only discussions of its nuances but also parallels. I have not, however, included any reference to the eleven speeches that are the subject of this volume, on the grounds that there is already extensive internal cross-reference within the volume, enabling the majority of such references to be tracked down from the Commentary on the passage in question. Italic font has been used to indicate references to footnotes; bold font to highlight a small number of discussions of key importance. Inscriptions and lexicographers are referenced together at the end of this index. Aelian Varia Historia 2.13: 368 13.24: 89 Aeschylus Eumenides 417–21: 460 Persians 341–3: 235 745–750: 236 Prometheus 725: 215 Seven Against Thebes: 218 lost plays Eleusinians: 218, 220 Herakleidai: 222 Aiskhines speech 1 (Timarkhos): 278, 662, 687 §8: 622 §11: 310 §13: 326 §14: 684 §15: 142 §19: 326 §§19–20: 128 §25: 447 §28: 342 §29: 662, 673 §32: 529 §36: 622 §§41–53: 366 §43: 318 §49: 310 §§51–2: 328 §55: 468

§65: 97 §72: 326 §74: 622 §83: 512 §85: 309 §87: 326 §§90–1: 124–5 §92: 611 §93: 622 §111: 689 §114: 606, 684 §124: 684 §125: 404 §§125–31: 214 §§135–6: 310 §§138–9: 142 §141: 575 §155: 312 §159: 312 §§170–6: 32 §171: 312 §183: 48, 337 §184: 684 §185: 622 §187: 579 §192: 622 speech 2 (Embassy): 403, 408 §4: 103 §17: 613 §55: 672 §70: 611, 673 §93: 283, 316, 339 §105: 620 §§133–4: 569 §146: 579 §157: 576 §167: 548

732 Aiskhines (Contd.) speech 2 (Embassy) (Contd.) §179: 383 speech 3 (Ktesiphon): 146, 403, 408 §10: 691 §21: 127 §35: 670 §51: 283, 339 §52: 316 §58: 396 §63: 451 §106: 616 §108: 575 §115: 611 §116: 692 §125: 623 §128: 118 §166: 686 §175: 337, 448 §181: 570 §§181–2: 512 §212: 283, 374 §224: 333 §225: 608 §257: 575 Aiskhines the Sokratic frag. 20 (Dittmar): 48 Alcaeus frag. 326 (Lobel & Page): 470 Anaximenes Rhetoric to Alexander 7.2 = 1428a16–19: 382 16.2–3 = 1432a19–33: 380, 538 36.44 = 1444b17–18: 120 Andokides speech 1 (Mysteries): 403 §1: 538 §4: 405, 444 §5: 529 §6: 395, 514 §9: 308, 524 §10: 444 §11: 135, 469 §§11–18: 471 §13: 400, 449 §§13–14: 406 §14: 663 §15: 400, 451 §16: 469 §19: 406

Index Locorum §20: 396–7 §22: 142, 395, 582 §29: 440, 444 §§29–33: 406 §30: 334 §32: 443 §35: 400, 469 §37: 661, 663 §38: 142 §40: 466 §44: 122 §45: 665, 680–1 §§48–51: 457 §51: 615 §§52–3: 441 §§60–6: 444 §62: 449 §64: 131 §66: 397 §§71–2: 447 §§71–91: 407 §73: 132, 466, 591 §§73–6: 635 §§73–80: 458 §74: 342, 673, 687 §77: 587 §79: 634 §§81–9: 446, 676 §§82–4: 614 §84: 128 §§85–9: 447 §§92–3: 406 §§92–101: 401 §§92–102: 527 §94: 409, 466, 638 §95: 401 §§95–101: 465–6 §§95–96: 679 §101: 343 §107: 382 §§110–16: 406, 473 §§111–12: 443 §116: 448 §§117–31: 401, 409 §118: 95 §121: 401 §130: 610 §132: 402, 405, 410 §132–6: 409 §133: 401 §§133–4: 410, 483 §137: 410 §§137–9: 406, 407, 454 §139: 454

Index Locorum §140: 264 §145: 469 §150: 402 speech 2 (Return): 401, 459 §§6–7: 410 §10: 535 §11: 444 §§11–12: 465 §§13–16: 459 §§17–23: 465 §§19–22: 459 §21: 444 §23: 447 §25: 334 speech 3 (Peace): 451 §6: 451 §29: 673 §30: 673 §36: 364 speech 4 (Alkibiades) §3: 211 §14: 100, 103 Androtion FGrH 324 F.39 (Jacoby): 517 Antiphon: 378 speech 1 (Stepmother): 88, 281, 376 §3: 455 §§6–12: 142 §9: 537 §11: 686 §14: 129 §§14–20: 375 §§15–16: 102 §17: 107 §21: 687 §22: 529 §77: 135 speech 5 (Herodes): 88, 452, 551 §8: 308 §9: 138, 634, 674 §§9–10: 388 §11: 282, 370 §12: 370 §14: 621–2 §§23–9: 103 §25: 455 §§31–2: 537–8 §35: 113 §68: 582 §69: 667 §73: 446 §§81–3: 454

speech 6 (Chorister) §1: 88 §3: 529 §16: 310, 370 §20: 524 §24: 537 §§38–9: 365 §§39–40: 49 §40: 677 §42: 45, 282 Tetralogies: 350, 351 First Tetralogy 1.5–8: 144 4.7: 688 Second Tetralogy: 278, 672 1.2: 570 Third Tetralogy: 44 2.1: 377 2.7: 570 fragments Tribute of Lindos, frag. 29 (Blass & Thalheim): 568 On the Revolution frag. 1a col. i lines 9–12 (Blass & Thalheim): 144 frag. 1a col. ii line 20 (Blass & Thalheim): 3 frag. 1a col. iii lines 23–4 (Blass & Thalheim): 666 Aristeides speech 10: 550 speech 47: 550 Aristophanes Akharnians 181: 234 492: 686 Assemblywomen: See Ekklesiazousai Birds 290: 673 497: 674 501–3: 97 1031: 321 1073: 405 1074: 453 1337: 672 Clouds: 547 21–3: 574 353: 673 829: 405 911: 672 986: 234 1083: 50

733

734 Aristophanes (Contd.) Clouds (Contd.) 1224–5: 574 1327: 672 1380–5: 99 Ekklesiazousai 395–7: 264 420: 682 522: 49 522–6: 106 1055–6: 120 Knights 1049: 681 Lysistrata 555–9: 97 1082: 226 Peace 871–4: 570 980: 48 1136–9: 103 1140–58: 117 1180–1: 591 1186: 673 Ploutos: See Wealth Thesmophoriazousai 340–1: 97 397: 117 414–15: 104 483–5: 99 487: 105 488: 49 Wasps 19: 673 592: 673 788–91: 97 1075–80: 226 1206–7: 632 1324: 323 1326–34: 310 1326–86: 373 1368–70: 310 1418: 133 1435–7: 631 Wealth 793–4: 122 1067–8: 103 Aristotle: See also Ath.Pol. Politics 1300a7: 58 Rhetoric 1.1.5 = 1354a23: 282 1.2.1 = 1355b35–39: 382 1.2.16–18 = 1357b1–21: 378

Index Locorum 1.7.32 = 1365a28: 478 1.9.31 = 1367b17–18: 478 1.15.26 = 1376b31–1377a7: 538 2.2.6 = 1378b28: 137 2.12.15 = 1389b7: 278 2.22.6 = 1396a12–14: 222 3.7.7 = 1408a34–36: 543, 661 3.10 = 1411a31–b1: 160 3.19.6 = 1420a8: 161, 162 Constitution of Tenedians frag. 593 (Rose): 89 Arkhippos Fishes, frag. 27 (Kassel & Austin): 467 Ath. Pol. 8.3: 678 9.2: 135, 337, 671 29.2: 264 29.3: 678 34.3: 547 35.1: 520 35.2: 127, 128 35.4: 668 39: 465 39.1: 366, 467, 667 39.1–4: 467 39.5: 127, 283, 464, 639 39.6: 13, 409, 639 40.2: 2, 6, 152 40.4: 467 41.1: 520, 667 41.2: 136 42.2: 139 42.3–5: 548 42.4: 548 42.5: 367 47.1: 282 47.2–3: 614 48.1: 587 52.2: 590 53.2: 630 53.2–5: 630 53.5: 631 53.7: 585–6, 591 55.1: 442 56.1: 467 56.3: 324, 367 56.6–7: 271 57: 45 57.1: 443 57.1–2: 442 57.2: 449 57.3: 44, 281, 283, 284, 638, 639, 675

Index Locorum 57.4: 44 58.1: 273 60.1: 675 60.1–2: 483–4 60.3: 529 61.1: 367 61.2: 342 62.1: 609, 612 67.1: 282, 605 Aulus Gellius Attic Nights 1.26.4–9: 112 Bacchylides Epinician 13.178–181: 211 Bible Acts 13.51: Leviticus 19.14: 27.17: Matthew 10.14:

472 534 534 472

Deinarkhos speech 1 (Demosthenes) §9: 579, 611 §23: 104, 133, 338, 674 §48: 608 §55: 309 §60: 132 §63: 138 §75: 160 §81: 623 §94: 608 §95: 389 speech 2 (Aristogeiton) §2: 664 §12: 388 §13: 664 §§16–17: 337 §§24–6: 512 speech 3 (Philokles) §1: 604–5 §10: 605 fragments frag. 4 Conomis (Proxenos): 334 Demosthenes: 378, 537 speech 2 (Second Olynthiac) §19: 103 speech 3 (Third Olynthiac)

735

§29: 92 §35: 619 speech 4 (First Philippic) §36: 367 §47: 674 §49: 103 speech 6 (Second Philippic) §8: 605 speech 7 (Halonessos): 26 speech 18 (Crown): 146, 164, 228, 403, 408, 608 §1: 524 §10: 689 §12: 338 §38: 634 §41: 223 §46: 445 §50: 689 §94: 661 §119: 617 §123: 632, 665 §125: 442 §§129–130: 661 §131: 92 §155: 451, 611 §210: 394 §249: 528 §265: 570 §282: 661 §284: 442 §285: 151 speech 19 (Embassy): 403, 408, 608 §128: 570 §182: 617 §184: 535 §191: 258 §193: 568 §198: 103, 374 §255: 672 §256: 512 §258: 442 §271: 512 §273: 256 §311: 677 §338: 579 speech 20 (Leptines): 146 second hypothesis, §3: 526 §8: 344 §39: 90 §90: 448 §118: 135 §135: 339 §144: 526 §158: 671

736 Demosthenes (Contd.) speech 21 (Meidias): 592 §4: 141 §§32–3: 592 §33: 612, 632 §36: 373 §39: 366 §42: 616 §43: 131, 132 §47: 133, 142 §§48–50: 396 §50: 90 §58: 686 §§70–76: 133 §71: 661 §§71–75: 44 §81: 630 §83: 524, 631 §§83–95: 370 §§83–99: 689 §88: 633 §95: 608 §110: 528 §119: 366 §147: 400 §177: 579 §191: 672 §221: 103 §223: 666 speech 22 (Androtion): 146 §2: 49, 449 §26: 528 §34: 623 §49: 676 §52: 343 §55: 142 §63: 689 speech 23 (Aristokrates): 146 §22: 126, 283 §28: 132, 529 §§28–36: 670 §37: 44, 529 §38: 529 §50: 377, 634 §51: 127 §53: 44 §§53–56: 44, 126–7, 128, 129 §55: 442, 452 §60: 44 §61: 442 §§65–81: 635 §66: 128, 534 §§67–8: 370 §74: 44, 45

Index Locorum §78: 442 §79: 337 §82: 138 §85: 90 §96: 135 §114: 103 §143: 339 §156: 623 §216: 670 §217: 442 speech 24 (Timokrates): 146 §9: 680 §§54–6: 125 §63: 680 §96: 676 §§102–3: 672 §105: 132, 679, 680 §113: 50, 125, 136 §114: 679, 680, 681 §124: 92 §125: 623 §126: 664 §127: 276 §139: 676 §§139–41: 135 §161: 676 §167: 142 §197: 366 §210: 676 §212: 448 speech 25 (Aristogeiton 1) hypothesis, §§1–2: 388 §7: 619 §24: 613 §28: 680 §38: 664 §52: 610 §56: 623 speech 26 (Aristogeiton 2) §6: 447 §9: 528 §11: 468 §13: 666 speech 27 (Aphobos 1): 271 §5: 95 §9: 13 §24: 573 §49: 669 §56: 93 §65: 95 speech 28 (Aphobos 2) §1: 396, 604–5 §20: 383 §23: 382

Index Locorum speech 29 (Aphobos 3) §14: 378 §16: 688 §§27–8: 141 §38: 380 speech 30 (Onetor 1) §8: 366, 606 §25: 382 §32: 662 §37: 380 speech 32 (Zenothemis) §§31–2: 32 speech 33 (Apatourios) §§1–2: 337 §36: 375 speech 34 (Against Phormion) §3: 394 §19: 338 §24: 488 §34: 118 §36: 606 §46: 442 speech 35 (Lakritos) §48: 449 speech 36 (For Phormion): 403 §1: 385, 394 §§14–17: 329 §18: 669 §23: 630 §25: 621 §26: 526 §§26–7: 526 §33: 669 speech 37 (Pantainetos) §1: 329 §3: 608 §41: 538 speech 38 (Nausimakhos) §1: 329 §2: 608 §27: 526 speech 39 (Boiotos, on the name) §22: 669 speech 40 (Boiotos, on the dowry) §6: 314 §§9–11: 661 §11: 45 §12: 93 §15: 376 §18: 450 §32: 282, 316, 339 speech 42 (Phainippos): 532 §5: 365, 534 §§5–7: 324

§§6–7: 365 §11: 365 §24: 365 speech 43 (Makartatos): 403, 540 §§7–10: 368 §22: 90 §57: 46 §§57–8: 569 §58: 142 §§62–3: 96 §69: 483, 486 §71: 483, 587, 612 speech 44 (Leokhares): 540 §49: 676 speech 45 (Stephanos 1): 403 §33: 113 §44: 337 §85: 383, 586 speech 46 (Stephanos 2) §1: 672 §10: 524 §11: 613 §18: 128 §21: 376 §26: 449 speech 47 (Euergos and Mnesiboulos) §2: 338 §8: 376 §15: 377 §28: 450 §36: 131 §38: 313 §52: 142 §53: 313, 534 §57: 102, 328 §60: 314 §62: 57 §63: 313 §66: 569 §67: 569 §§69–70: 378 speech 48 (Olympiodoros) §§14–21: 109 §16: 107, 376 §31: 677 §51: 569 speech 49 (Timotheos) §2: 394 §17: 577 §29: 577 speech 50 (Polykles): 461 §51: 609 §57: 606

737

738 Demosthenes (Contd.) speech 52 (Kallippos) §17: 570, 640 §32: 382 speech 53 (Nikostratos): 550 §6: 623 speech 54 (Konon): 339 §1: 608, 674 §3: 318 §4: 689 §5: 103 §7: 321, 323 §8: 674 §14: 103, 373 §16: 103 §§17–19: 283 §18: 283 §§18–19: 632 §22: 310 speech 55 (Kallikles) §§10–11: 534 §17: 57 §24: 102 speech 56 (Dionysodoros) §10: 606 speech 57 (Euboulides) §8: 449, 613, 661 §30: 634 §35: 98 §42: 98 §§44–5: 98 §45: 92 §70: 383, 623 speech 58 (Theokrines): 26 §2: 664 §11: 442 §21: 131 §§64–5: 57 speech 59 (Neaira): 8, 55, 312, 550 §18: 104 §21: 8, 280, 443 §§21–2: 5, 10, 402 §22: 103, 318 §29: 280, 366 §30: 103 §33: 103 §35: 623 §39: 97 §41: 120 §44: 606 §46: 372 §47: 364 §48: 117 §49: 623

Index Locorum §§64–70: 47 §65: 120 §§65–6: 139 §66: 50, 147 §67: 366, 683–4 §§70–1: 364 §74: 226 §77: 606 §83: 612 §87: 47, 48, 124 §§94–106: 249 §104: 280 §105: 615 §110: 48 §§110–11: 102 §111: 100 §115: 10 §122: 129, 376 speech 60 (Epitaphios): 151, 152 §1: 210, 211 §2: 211 §3: 215 §4: 226, 227 §§4–5: 216 §8: 213, 214, 219, 220, 221, 227 §9: 212, 213 §10: 238 §11: 216, 238 §13: 233 §§18–23: 163 §28: 216, 233 §§28–9: 221 §33: 216 exordium 49 §3: 334 fragments frag.6 Baiter & Sauppe (Kritias): 28 Digest 48.5.21.pr (Papinian): 127 48.5.24 (Ulpian): 127 Diodorus Siculus 11.82–4: 249 12.17–18: 135 13.105.3: 258 14.84.4: 259 18.84.4: 164 14.109: 6 34.8: 458 Diogenes Laertius Lives of the Philosophers Sokrates, 2.44: 410

Index Locorum Plato, 3.38: 5 Pythagoras, 8.10: 138 Dionysios of Halikarnassos First Letter to Ammaeus §3: 664 On Deinarkhos §1: 18 §7: 27 §10: 26 §§10–13: 24 §13: 26 On Isaios §6: 26 On Lysias: 1, 6–7, 8, 10, 12, 18, 19, 160 §§2–13: 32–34 §12: 1, 27 §14: 7, 26, 627 §§28–30: 160 §29: 6 §32: 18 On the Style of Demosthenes lost introduction, quoted by Planudes Scholia on Hermogenes’ Peri Ideo¯n, V, pp. 548.8–551.1 (Walz): 151 §11: 18 §13: 26 §23: 153, 160 On Thucydides §18: 151 Letter to Pompeius 3.20: 6 Euboulos Semele, frag. 93 (Kassel & Austin): 323 Eupolis frag. 352 (Kassel & Austin): 673 Euripides Herakleidai: 222 7: 224 12: 222 18–20: 223 21: 224 85: 224 87: 224 1026–44: 150 1032–6: 225 Herakles 4–7: 227 Hippolytos 649–50: 96

739

Ion 29: 226 589–92: 226 735–40: 226 Kyklops 232–40: 113 Phoenician Women: 219 Suppliants: 213, 218, 220, 221, 470 341: 213 403–8: 213 526–7: 220 528–30: 219 538: 220 671–2: 220 Troades 480: 260 lost plays Erekhtheus, frag. 360 line 8 (Nauck): 226 Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (Jacoby): See Androtion, Pherekydes, Philokhoros, Theopompos Frontinus Strategems 3.12.2: 609 Gorgias Encomium on Helen: 20 Herodotos 1.pr: 231 1.31.3: 462 1.32.2: 462 1.74.1: 223 1.159.1–2: 223 3.38.4: 229 3.80–3: 460 3.122.2: 212 4.14–15: 222 4.110.1: 215 5.97.2: 232 6.31.2: 155 6.94.1: 155 6.102: 231 6.102–6: 233 6.105.1: 233 6.106.1: 243 6.108.1: 233 6.117.2: 243 6.134: 534 7.7: 235 7.21.1: 236 7.22.1: 236

740 Herodotos (Contd.) 7.22–25: 236 7.24.1: 236 7.34–35: 236 7.34–36: 236 7.36.1: 236 7.37: 236 7.56.1: 236 7.60.1: 235 7.60.2: 236 7.61–87: 236 7.89.1: 235 7.89–97: 236 7.97: 235 7.102.1: 241 7.104.4: 229, 233 7.122: 236 7.139: 231 7.140–3: 239 7.145: 232 7.145–63: 237 7.157.2: 608 7.161: 153 7.166–7: 222 7.175: 232 7.175.1–2: 238 7.175–7: 237 7.187.1: 236 7.190: 235 7.202: 237 7.207: 232 7.212.2: 238 7.213: 238 7.217–18: 238 8.1–2: 237 8.11.2: 238 8.12–13: 235 8.14.1: 237 8.15.1: 239 8.16.3: 238 8.18: 238, 239 8.37–9: 239 8.40.2: 239 8.41: 239 8.41.1: 241 8.41.3: 239 8.51.2: 239 8.52–4: 242 8.55: 482 8.64.2: 244 8.65: 243 8.73.1: 227 8.75–6: 242 8.84.2: 243

Index Locorum 8.94.2–3: 243 8.136: 240 8.140–3: 231 8.140–4: 240 9.7a.2: 247 9.9.2: 247 9.27: 153 9.27.2: 224 9.27.2–4: 157, 213 9.27.3: 218, 219, 220, 221 9.28.3: 241 9.28.6: 248 9.31.5: 248 9.56.1: 248 9.64.1: 247 9.67: 248 9.69.1: 248 9.71.1: 248 9.85.2: 150 9.172.3: 237 Homer Iliad 6.450–5: 242 12.322–5: 272 14.193: 221 22.357: 686 Odyssey 11.582–93: 440 20.105–9: 112 Hypereides Athenogenes §§1–4: 102 §2: 104 §§4–6: 280 §12: 674 §13: 636, 672 §15: 574 §18: 128 §§21–2: 448 Demosthenes col.12: 606 Epitaphios: 149, 151, 153, 161, 214 §§4–5: 238 §7: 226, 227 §8: 215 Euxenippos §§1–3: 662 §6: 449, 612 §31: 605 Lykophron §§8–9: 514 §§11–12: 662

Index Locorum Philippides §11: 334 §12: 687 fragments frag. 20 Jensen (Aristagora): 622 frag. 100 Jensen (Dorotheos): 633 frag. 118 Jensen (Children of Lykourgos): 512 Isaios speech 1 (Kleonymos) §33: 95 §37: 661 §41: 95 §42: 95 §47: 95 speech 2 (Menekles) §18: 93 §24: 90 §35: 97 §38: 366 speech 3 (Pyrrhos) §§13–14: 117 §35: 328, 443 §39: 129 §40: 661 §80: 114 speech 4 (Nikostratos) §1: 396 §27: 661 §28: 681 speech 5 (Dikaiogenes) §10: 94 §11: 140 §§17–19: 687, 688 §22: 141 §25: 677 §26: 141 §32: 364 §33: 631 §41: 692 §43: 574 §46: 608 speech 6 (Philoktemon) §11: 582 §19: 104 §20: 107 §40: 682 §58: 445 speech 7 (Apollodoros) §38: 344 speech 8 (Kiron) §3: 570 §9: 376

§10: 375 §12: 380 §§15–16: 571 §19: 114 §29: 382 §32: 672 §33: 673 §35: 104, 142 speech 9 (Astyphilos) §29: 334 §31: 95 §36: 219 §39: 118 speech 11 (Hagnias): 403, 663 §1: 604–5 §15: 686 §§41–4: 515 speech 12 (Euphiletos) §9: 45 fragments frag. 37 Thalheim (Elpagoras and Demophanes): 590 Isokrates speech 2 (To Nikokles) §8: 619 speech 4 (Pane¯gyrikos): 152, 157–60 §1: 211 §§3–4: 211 §23: 227 §24: 162, 226, 227, 228 §25: 228 §28: 218 §39: 159, 619 §51: 218 §53: 223 §§54–60: 213 §§54–65: 157 §55: 218 §56: 222 §§56–60: 224 §58: 218, 219 §§58–9: 218 §59: 225 §61: 218 §§61–62: 227 §63: 226 §64: 218 §65: 619 §§67–70: 162 §68: 217 §§68–70: 157, 213, 214 §69: 218 §73: 218

741

742 Isokrates (Contd.) speech 4 (Pane¯gyrikos) (Contd.) §85: 218 §§85–7: 162 §86: 231 §§86–7: 234 §87: 218 §§88–9: 235 §§88–92: 162 §89: 236 §§90–2: 237 §91: 218 §93: 240, 246 §§93–6: 239 §94: 247 §97: 162, 239, 240, 243 §100: 257 §104: 255 §105: 254, 619 §106: 254, 255 §§118–20: 162, 256 §119: 159–60, 218, 258, 259 §122: 254 §137: 218 §159: 218 speech 5 (Philip) §143: 221 speech 6 (Arkhidamos) §41: 157 §43: 213 speech 7 (Areopagitikos): 158 §75: 249 §80: 256 speech 8 (Peace) §§1–2: 211 §49: 226 §65: 619 §121: 619 §143: 673 speech 9 (Euagoras) §19: 619 speech 10 (Helen) §18: 95 §35: 100 §42: 95 speech 12 (Panathe¯naikos) §§1–2: 211 §47: 217 §59: 619 §114: 623 §124: 226, 227, 676 §131: 154 §153: 154 §§168–71: 213, 218

Index Locorum §§170–1: 220 §193: 213, 214 §§193–4: 157 §194: 213 §§233–4: 158 speech 13 (Sophists) §1: 211 speech 14 (Plataikos) §37: 221 speech 15 (Antidosis) §64: 619 §90: 674 speech 16 (Chariot Horses): 604–5 §8: 144 §9: 615 §11: 325 §12: 144 §20: 327 §28: 447 §32: 443 §38: 666 §47: 688, 689 speech 17 (Banking Speech): 32 §2: 610 §11: 131 §§33–4: 371 §46: 528 §50: 378 §55: 380 speech 18 (Kallimakhos): 604–5 §5: 520 §9: 610 §11: 630 §17: 364 §18: 532 §30: 382 §46: 382 §50: 666 §54: 46 speech 19 (Aiginetan Speech) §8: 95 §10: 571 §§50–1: 90 speech 20 (Lokhites): 604–5 §1: 350, 377, 443 §§2–3: 337 §3: 633, 665 §10: 606 §19: 279 §23: 136 speech 21 (Euthunous): 604–5 §1: 31 §12: 532 letter 9.19 (To Arkhidamos): 217

Index Locorum John of Sicily Scholia on Hermogenes’ Peri Ideo¯n VI, p. 233.8–13 (Walz): 163 VI, p. 358.16–20 (Walz): 56 John Tzetzes Khiliades, On Andokides, 49 = 6.367–75 (Leone): 406 Kaikilios frag. 109 (Ofenloch): 34 frag. 110 (Ofenloch): 34 Kallias frag. 1 (Kassel & Austin): 120 Khariton Khaireas and Kallirhoe 1.4.1–1.6.1: 56 Kratinos frag. 81 (Kassel & Austin): 120 frag. 300 (Kassel & Austin): 679 Libanios speech 1: 550 speech 13: 550 declamation 6.2 §21: 56 declamation 33.1 §33: 113 Longinus On the Sublime §32.8: 33, 627 §35: 33 Lucian Anakharsis §19: 605 Lykourgos speech 1 (Leokrates): 152, 228 §5: 664 §§8–9: 136 §12: 452, 611 §16: 468 §17: 570 §21: 228 §29: 376 §30: 380 §41: 226 §42: 570 §53: 228

743

§64: 512 §66: 147 §71: 512 §73: 256 §93: 123 §100: 226 §107: 233 §§112–13: 515 §§117–18: 615 §119: 372 §§128–30: 135 §130: 233 §140: 339 §143: 570 §144: 442 §147: 672 fragments frag. 21 Conomis (Dioike¯sis): 668 frag. 58 Conomis (Kephisodotos on honours for Demades): 447 frag. 62 Conomis (Lykophron): 675 Lysias speech 12 (Eratosthenes): 5, 13–14, 16, 17, 18, 22, 28, 626, 639 §3: 677 §4: 7, 12, 447 §7: 92 §8: 142, 343 §9: 621 §11: 13 §14: 102 §15: 9, 54 §16: 111, 343 §§16–18: 272 §18: 13, 15 §19: 13, 142 §20: 344, 395, 470 §26: 470 §31: 334 §32: 470 §35: 134 §38: 344 §39: 261 §42: 59 §43: 468, 689 §48: 467 §49: 329 §50: 538 §52: 261, 465 §53: 364 §§53–61: 6 §54: 639 §57: 335

744

Index Locorum

Lysias (Contd.) speech 12 (Eratosthenes) (Contd.) §59: 691 §62: 263, 677 §§62–78: 16 §§62–79: 6 §63: 14 §§68–74: 617 §69: 128, 665 §70: 568 §72: 623 §74: 623 §75: 309 §77: 382 §78: 691 §79: 6, 687 §80: 309 §81–86: 342 §85: 135 §87: 6 §92: 262 §§92–94: 667 §98: 394 §100: 33, 162, 549 speech 13 (Agoratos): 2, 17, 18, 22, 386, 452, 550 §1: 2 §§8–11: 617 §9: 514 §§9–10: 451 §10: 617 §12: 514 §17: 455, 514 §18: 142 §21: 665 §§22: 309 §§25–7: 375 §26: 470 §32: 470 §42: 333 §43: 468 §44: 319 §50: 663 §56: 663, 671 §59: 375 §63: 344 §64: 142, 517 §65: 312 §67: 104, 142, 609, 674 §§67–8: 121 §68: 43, 50 §§70–2: 515, 516 §71: 514 §73: 109

§80: 364, 667 §§81–2: 671 §83: 526 §§85–7: 115, 540, 639 §86: 674, 681 §§88–9: 262 §§88–90: 17, 464 §95: 445 §97: 343 speech 14 (Alkibiades 1): 23, 29, 30, 626 §2: 317 §3: 677, 681 §4: 136, 317, 676 §5: 124 §§5–6: 235 §7: 124, 666 §9: 311 §10: 620 §12: 134, 311 §16: 468 §17: 224 §21: 539, 583, 621, 665 §23: 317 §25: 104 §26: 514 §27: 312 §28: 48 §§32–3: 17 §35: 327 §38: 17, 258 §40: 687 §41: 138, 311 §§41–42: 400 speech 15 (Alkibiades 2): 23, 30, 386 §§1–4: 671 §2: 664 §5: 531 speech 16 (Mantitheos): 2, 17, 23, 88, 386–7, 550, 626 §4: 468, 689 §5: 311, 319 §6: 613 §7: 590 §8: 586 §12: 664 §13: 386–7 §14: 317 §15: 267, 340 §16: 276, 340, 583 §17: 623 §20: 664, 690 §§20–21: 693 speech 17 (Eraton): 22, 25, 386 §3: 329, 630

Index Locorum §4: 617 §5: 314 §10: 590 speech 18 (Nikias’ Brother): 22 §1: 623 §2: 468 §3: 312 §4: 514, 691 §§4–12: 17 §5: 261, 319, 620, 664 §7: 344 §10: viii, 309 §15: 365 §21: 344 §26: 590 speech 19 (Aristophanes): 22, 23 §2: 309, 538 §3: 395, 514 §6: 664 §9: 314 §11: 329 §12: 677 §§12–17: 586 §14: 317 §§15–16: 110 §16: 139, 311 §17: 92, 444 §29: 344, 345 §32: 590 §33: 333 §34: 445 §38: 572 §§42–43: 344, 345 §47: 668 §52: 668 §53: 329 §54: 445 §57: 344, 395 §§57–59: 344, 345 §60: 23, 570 §64: 343 speech 20 (Polystratos): 1, 12, 22, 23, 29, 30 §§1–10: 2 §2: 317, 444 §10: 23 §11: 57, 572 §§11–36: 2 §12: 586 §14: 531 §19: 615 §21: 118 §23: 344 §29: 638 §35: 460

745

speech 21 (Bribes): 22, 344, 345 §1: 350 §§1–5: 344 §§3–9: 25 §4: 17, 520 §7: 617 §8: 593 §9: 468 §10: 309 §11: 343, 395 §15: 25 §17: 25, 343 §19: 139, 311 §25: 343 speech 22 (Grain Retailers): 23, 31 §5: 470 §13: 240, 344 §15: 514 §16: 617 §18: 617 §21: 134 speech 23 (Pankleon): 23, 29, 386 §2: 109, 321 §3: 610 §6: 610 §7: 327 §13: 675 §16: 343 speech 24 (Disabled Man): 23, 59, 386–7, 626 §2: 92, 444 §9: 344 §10: 575 §13: 442 §14: 325 §§19–20: 610 §20: 97 §22: 675 §25: 17, 528, 617 §27: 672 speech 25 (Subverting Democracy): 2, 17, 20, 23, 386 §2: 311 §3: 325 §4: 468 §7: 677 §9: 144 §10: 623 §11: 689 §12: 344, 345, 395 §13: 691 §14: 664 §15: 325 §§15–16: 619

746

Index Locorum

Lysias (Contd.) speech 25 (Subverting Democracy) (Contd.) §§15–17: 532 §17: 532 §18: 144 §19: 327 §23: 264 §26: 468 §27: 92, 466 §30: 92, 691 speech 26 (Euandros): 2, 4, 20, 23 §2: 261, 262, 264 §§2–3: 466 §§3–5: 344 §5: 539, 664 §8: 443 §9: 337, 678 §§9–10: 463 §10: 613 §12: 442 §13: 539 §14: 664 §§16–20: 17 §17: 334 §21: 539, 620 §22: 261 §§22–3: 264 speech 27 (Epikrates): 23, 386 §3: 465 §4: 570 §6: 528 §7: 134 §9: 92 §11: 344 speech 28 (Ergokles): 4, 22, 23, 25 §2: 92 §6: 102 §10: 88 §11: 687 §§12–14: 17 speech 29 (Philokrates): 22, 23, 386 §2: 617 §3: 587 §4: 344 §6: 661 §§11–12: 342 speech 30 (Nikomakhos): 23, 386–7, 626 §2: 312, 528, 661 §3: 468, 524, 531, 588 §5: 147, 470, 588, 666 §7: 17, 593 §9: 514, 620 §§9–14: 17 §10: 593

§§10–14: 17 §13: 691 §17: 617 §19: 470 §§19–21: 614 §23: 134, 465 §26: 344 §27: 142 §28: 92, 107, 447 §§28–29: 588 §29: 588 speech 31 (Philon): 2, 17, 23, 29, 228 §5: 466, 665 §6: 265 §8: 17, 57, 464 §§8–13: 466 §11: 90 §12: 344 §§13–14: 17 §14: 464 §16: 396 §20: 314 §23: 572 §27: 568 §31: 317, 623 speech 32 (Diogeiton): 18, 29, 34, 271 §1: 314 §§1–2: 394 §3: 677 §5: 333, 619 §9: 102 §11: 102 §12: 572 §§12–13: 102 §§12–17: 102 §§15–17: 102 §16: 222, 456 §17: 92 §19: 277 §20: 333 §21: 88 §24: 344, 469 §26: 312, 469 speech 33 (Olympic Speech): 1, 6, 18, 159, 550, 626 §3: 259 §5: 160, 259 §7: 255 speech 34 (Ancestral Constitution): 1, 18 §1: 468 speech 35 (Ero¯tikos): 1, 5, 17, 18 fragments frag.sp. I (Aiskhines, for debt): 625 frag. 1: 308, 580

Index Locorum frag.sp. II (Aiskhines, concerning conﬁscation of Aristophanes): 4, 22 frag.sp. V–VI (Alkibiades): 12 frag.sp. XI (Antigenes, on the abortion) frag. 22: 122 frag.sp. XII (Antiphon’s daughter): 17– 18, 24, 637 frag. 27 col. i, lines 3–6: 668 frag. 27 col. i, lines 12–13: 613 frag.sp. XX (Iphikrates, concerning gifts): 1, 27, 140, 478 frag.sp. XXI (Arkhebiades) frag. 50: 308 frag.sp. XXII (Arkhinos): 4, 6 frag. 52c: 6 frag.sp. XXVII (Autokrates) frag. 61: 131 frag.sp. XXVIII (Death of Akhilleides): 22 frag. 62: 50 frag.sp. XXX (Batrakhos): 22, 467 frag. 68a: 674 frag.sp. XXXVI (Dexippos) frag. 78: 590 frag.sp. XLV (engue¯the¯ke¯) frag. 101a: 608 frag.sp. XLVIII (Epigenes) frag. 104: 344 frag.sp. L (Eryximakhos): 2, 17–18, 23, 25 frag. 106, lines 67–70: 344 frag. 106, lines 68–76: 343 frag. 107, lines 100–4: 469 frag. 107, lines 103–7: 344 frag. 107, lines 105–6: 469 frag. 107, lines 108–9: 619 frag.sp. LII (Benefactions): 6 frag.sp. LVII (Alkibiades, on the house) frag. 8: 551 frag.sp. LVII (For Euthunous against Nikias, 1) frag. 117: 32 frag. 118: 538 frag.sp. LVII–LVIII (For Euthunous against Nikias, 1&2): 31 frag.sp. LXIV (Theozotides): 4, 17–18, 215 frag. 129, line 33: 277 frag.sp. LXV (Theomnestos): 17–18, 24, 640 frag. 151: 604–5 frag. 151, lines 329–332: 344 frag. 151, line 333: 365 frag. 151, lines 352–353: 382 frag.sp. LXX (Hippotherses): 5, 6, 7, 13, 14, 16, 17–18, 19, 24

747

frag. 164, lines 10–13: 15 frag. 165, lines 28–31: 13 frag. 165, lines 36–8: 15 frag. 165, lines 43–6: 15–16 frag. 170, lines 153–5: 12 frag. 170, lines 163–7: 9 frag. 170, lines 163–171: 15 frag. 170, lines 171–3: 15 frag. 170, lines 175–181: 16, 470 frag. 170, lines 194–7: 263 frag. 170, lines 195–6: 14 frag.sp. LXXI (Sons of Hippokrates) frag. 174: 668 frag.sp. LXXII (Hippomakhos): 17–18 frag.sp. LXXIII (Hipponikos): 17–18 frag.sp. LXXVI (Iphikrates, for treason): 1, 27 frag.sp. LXXVIII (Kallias, by endeixis): 387 frag.sp. LXXIX (Kallias, for Hubris): 387 frag. 188: 104 frag.sp. LXXX (For Kallias): 387 frag. 189: 387 frag.sp. LXXXV–LXXXVI (Kinesias) frag. 195: 22 frag. 195, §3: 317 frag. 195, §§3–4: 461 frag.sp. XCII (Ktesiphon) frag. 205: 21 frag.sp. XCVII (Lysitheos) frag. 210: 88 frag. 212: 22 frag.sp. CI (Meixidemos) frag. 222: 131, 456 frag.sp. CII (Menestratos): 526 frag.sp. CIII (Mikines): 22 frag.sp. CV (Mnesiptolemos): 34 frag. 236b: 34 frag.sp. CX (Nikeratos): 6, 17–18 frag.sp. CXI (Nikias, defence speech): 26 frag.sp. CXII (Nikias, for homicide): 22 frag.sp. CXIII (Nikides): 20, 24 frags. 248, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255: 24 frag.sp. CXVI (Nikostratos): 17–18 frag.sp. CXXI (Polyainos’ estate) frag. 265: 585 frag.sp. CXXII (Poseidippos): 350 frag.sp. CXXVII (Sokrates): 22 frag.sp. CXXVIII (Sostratos) frag. 277: 116 frag.sp. CXXIX (Teisis) frag. 278: 394 frag. 279: 18 frag. 279, §1: 89, 92, 312, 593

748

Index Locorum

Lysias (Contd.) fragments (Contd.) frag. 279, §2: 593 frag. 279, §4: 142 frag. 279, §5: 103, 313 frag. 279, §6: 375, 394 frag.sp. CXXX (Telamon): 22 frag.sp. CXXXIV (Banking speech): 17–18, 32 frag. 285a: 32 frag.sp. CXXXV (Pherenikos, on estate of Androkleides): 26, 158, 625 frag. 286, §1: 394 frag. 286, §3: 314 frag.sp. CXXXVIII (Philostephanos): 17–18 frag.sp. CXXXIX (Philon, on death of Theokleides): 22 frag. 298: 50 frag.sp. CXLIV ( . . . ylios): 17–18, 24 frag.sp. CXLV (Dokimasia speech, anonymous): 2, 17–18, 23 untitled frag. 308: 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 545, 552, 631, 640 frag. 308, recto, line 1: 4 frag. 308, recto, lines 6–15 [hypothesis to Lys. 10–11]: 660 frag. 308, recto, lines 16–22 [hypothesis to Lys. 9]: 604 frag. 308, recto, line 17: 585 frag. 308, recto, line 23: 546 frag. 308, recto, lines 23–9 [hypothesis to Lys. 8]: 566 frag. 308, verso, line 12: 6 frag. 311, line 458: 25 frag. 436: 344 frag. 443: 100 Menander Aspis 68–79: 149 Dyskolos 289–93: 134 Epitrepontes 287: 582–3 533: 582–3 Geo¯rgos 49: 582–3 71: 579 Hero 1–3: 112 Phasma 39: 582–83

Papyri P.Lond. 2852: See Lysias, frag.sp. L P.Mich. 5982 [‘Theramenes papyrus’], lines 35–6: 451 P.Oxy. 2537: See Lysias, untitled fragments, frag. 308 P.Oxy. 4716 [Lys. 21]: 25 P.Ryl. 489: See Lysias, frag.sp. L P.Vindob. 29816: See Lysias, frag.sp. XII PL III/284 B [Lys. 1]: 25 PSI 1206 [Lys. 2]: 272 Pausanias 1.14.2–3: 442 1.19.1: 45 1.21.4: 45 1.27.2: 482 1.28.5: 45 1.29.3: 263 1.29.4: 150 1.38.3–7: 442 1.39.2: 220 Pherekydes FGrH 3 F.15 (Jacoby): 215 Philokhoros FGrH 328 F.125 (Jacoby): 517 Photios Bibliothe¯ke¯ codex 260 (Isokrates) 487b31–40: 158 codex 262 (Lysias): 9–10, 34 488a35–b2: 478 488b14–16: 8 488b18–490a10: 9 488b25–489a13: 34 488b37–8: 34 489a14: 478 489a14–b2: 19, 477–8 489a15–34: 478 489a34–b2: 27 489a36: 478 489b3–15: 34 489b11–13: 34 489b13: 34 codex 265 (Demosthenes) 491b18: 34 491b31–4: 26 Pindar Nemean 6.48–49: 212 9.22–24: 221

Index Locorum Olympian 6.15–16: 221 Planudes Scholia on Hermogenes’ Peri Ideo¯n, V, p. 548.8–551.1 (Walz): 151 Plato Apology 17c8–9: 611 23e: 409 31c5–7: 620 32c: 409 32c4–9: 637, 638 40a2–3: 620 Cratylus 348b2–6: 670 418a7: 670 Critias: 11 111c: 520 113a7–8: 670 Crito 50a6–54d1: 120 Euthydemus 277e3–4: 670 285a5–6: 670 Euthyphro: 11 2b: 409 Hippias Minor 368b4–5: 611 Lakhes: 341 Laws 644a6: 670 868a5–6: 132 934e2–4: 632 935c3: 632 943d4–945b2: 663 944a8–b2: 663 944b5–c1: 663, 673 948d8–e4: 675 954a5–b3: 682 Menexenos: 31, 152, 153–7, 214 234b4–10: 211 234b10: 152 235c4–d6: 163 235c6–d3: 211 237b–238a: 162 237b4–c3: 226, 227 237c7–d1: 157 237e7–238a3: 157 237e7–238b1: 227 238b7: 215 238c1–239a4: 154 238c7–d1: 154

238d1–2: 154 238e5–239a7: 227 239b3–7: 157 239b3–8: 213, 227 239b5: 219, 220 239b5–6: 224 239b6–7: 211 239d2–3: 156, 218 239d6: 156, 216 239e2: 156 240a4: 156 240a4–6: 155 240a4–e6: 239 240a6: 155, 231 240a8: 155 240b1–c2: 155 240d4: 216 240e3–6: 215 240e6–241a2: 156, 234, 239 241a2–c3: 239 241a4–6: 239 241c1: 215 241d4–e2: 156 242a6–b4: 156 242d6: 210 242e6: 210 243c7: 210 243e6–244a1: 156 245c5: 216 245c6–d6: 227 246a5: 210 246b1–2: 211 246b5: 210 248d4: 215 248d7: 210 249b5–6: 273 Phaedrus: 5, 8, 12, 18 228a1–2: 11 234c6–d6: 32 234e6–8: 32 257b3–4: 11 257c7: 11 259e4–6: 32 262d8–264c5: 32 267c6: 670 267e5: 11 268c5: 11 278e10: 11 279a3–9: 11 Republic: 5, 10–11, 12 328b4–6: 10 328b5: 8 328b8–9: 10 439d4–8: 311

749

750

Index Locorum

Plato (Contd.) Symposion 174a9–b1: 117 191e1: 48 193a3: 11 215c: 351 Timaeus: 11 Seventh Letter 324e2–3: 637 333e2–4: 571 Plutarch: For Lives of the Ten Orators, see Ps.Plutarch Lives Alkibiades 18.6: 458 19–23: 400 21.4–6: 457 22.4: 471, 472 22.5: 472 33.3: 472 36.6: 258 Kimon 8.7–9: 371 Lykourgos 15.9–10: 89 Lysander 15.4: 258 Nikias 13.3: 458 Solon 17.4: 130 21.2: 593, 616, 633 23.1: 132, 683 23.7: 534 24.1: 482 Themistokles 8.5: 237 9.3–4: 239 9.5: 240 10.1: 239 10.5: 241 Theseus 12.6: 45 24.1–3: 159 24.2: 228 25.1–2: 228 26.1–27.2: 216 28.1: 216 29.4–5: 220 32.1: 159 Moralia 228b8–c11 = Spartan Sayings: 89

349f1–3 = Glor.Ath. §7: 667 502c5–10 = On Garrulity §5: 29 Polybios 5.54.10: 458 Ps.-Philostratos Lives of the Sophists p.505 lines 5–14 (Kayser): 158 Ps.-Plutarch Lives of the Ten Orators Antiphon: 8 Andokides 834c1: 402 834e–f: 444 835a9–10: 404–5, 468 Lysias: 8–9, 10 835a8–9: 410 835c5: 8 835c5–6: 8 835c–e: 8 835d6: 8 835e6–f3: 9 835e8–f3: 9 835f2: 9, 19 835f5–8: 9 835f8–836a3: 6, 9 836a2–3: 15 836a7–9: 9 836a8: 6, 8 836a9–10: 31 836a10–b1: 6 836a10–b2: 9 836b2: 6, 19 836b2–4: 9 836b4–7: 9 836b8–9: 8 836b9: 160 836b10–11: 8 836d2–10: 9, 478 Isokrates 837f4–7: 19, 157, 158 838d10–11: 8 Demosthenes: 8 Hypereides 849d3–5: 18 Rutilius Lupus Schemata 1.21: 100

Index Locorum Scholia: See also John of Sicily to Aiskhin. 3.195: 6 to Aiskhin. 3.211: 161, 210 to Aristophanes, Birds, 1073–5: 453 to Aristophanes, Thesmo., 80: 114 Solon Laws frag. 15b (Ruschenbusch): 681 frag. 23c (Ruschenbusch): 679 frag. 25 (Ruschenbusch): 681, 682 frag. 29b=30b (Ruschenbusch): 683 frag. 34 (Ruschenbusch): 685 frag. 68 (Ruschenbusch): 681, 683 Sophocles Ajax 550: 226 Antigone: 218 453–7: 448 998–1032: 219 Oedipus at Colonus 154: 460 165–6: 460 1224–5: 273 1518–38: 150 Oedipus Tyrannos 1224–5: 621 Trakhiniai 676: 222 Theon Progymnasmata in Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, vol 2 p. 63, lines 30–1: 158 Theophrastos Characters 9.4: 97 10.12: 97 11.7: 97 17.8: 29 18.2: 97 22.7: 97 Theopompos FGrH 115 F.154 (Jacoby): 256 Thucydides 1.6.1–3: 51, 285 1.22.2: 242 1.22.3: 242 1.23.5–6: 614

1.34.1: 250 1.40.1: 250 1.42.3: 250 1.51.4: 404 1.74.1: 237 1.95: 249 1.103.4: 252 1.104: 251 1.105.2: 250, 251 1.105.3: 251 1.105.4: 252 1.105.5: 253 1.105–106: 249 1.109: 251 1.118–125: 267 1.136.3: 122 1.138.3: 245 1.141.1: 582 2.5.1: 341 2.34: 149 2.34.1: 149, 150, 273 2.34.3–4: 266 2.34.5: 149 2.34.6: 149 2.34–46: 151 2.35.1: 211, 227, 273 2.35.2: 211 2.35–46: 151, 214 2.36.1: 214, 218, 226 2.36.4: 153 2.36.4–2.41.5: 153 2.37.1: 154 2.37.3: 210, 448 2.40.2: 216 2.40.5: 216 2.41.1: 215 2.41.3: 216 2.43.2: 210 2.43.2–3: 272 2.44.1–4: 269 2.44.4: 270 2.45.1–2: 269 2.45.2: 210 2.46.1: 215, 273, 274 2.46.2: 210 2.47: 151 3.64.5: 7 3.70.3–6: 488 3.70.4: 488 3.82.4: 582 3.114.1: 692 4.86.6: 582 4.133.1: 7 5.17.2: 582

751

752 Thucydides (Contd.) 5.116.4: 257 6.27.2: 401, 466 6.27–29: 400 6.28.1: 373, 471 6.52: 400 6.60: 457 6.60.2: 400 6.60.4: 453 6.61: 400 7.44.1: 242 7.70.4: 242 7.70.7: 243 7.71.4: 162, 242, 243 7.71.4–5: 242 7.71.5: 243 7.71.6–7: 242 7.78.2: 582–3 8.23: 638 8.54.4: 547 8.56.4: 256 8.66.2: 582 8.72.1: 264 8.86.3: 264 8.92.2: 515 Tzetzes: See John Tzetzes Valerius Maximus Memorable Deeds and Sayings 6.5.3: 89 Xenophon Agesilaos 2.15–16: 340 Hellenika 1.1.15: 609 1.5.16: 638 1.6.16: 638 1.7.13–34: 465 2.1.20–23: 464 2.1.25–26: 258 2.3.1: 520 2.3.2: 59 2.3.21: 668 2.3.39: 637 2.4.2: 261 2.4.2–3: 262 2.4.10–11: 261 2.4.11–12: 262 2.4.19: 262 2.4.21: 668 2.4.25: 15, 262 2.4.33: 263

Index Locorum 2.4.35: 262 2.4.39: 667 2.4.43: 2, 156, 467 4.2.9–26: 340 4.2.14–15: 267 4.2.17: 267, 341 4.2.20–21: 690 4.3.10–23: 340 4.3.12: 259 4.3.16: 341 4.4: 163 4.5: 163 4.5.10: 530 4.5.13–14: 163 4.8.1–2: 259 4.8.2: 259 4.8.7–8: 259 4.8.9–10: 259, 263 5.1.36: 257 5.2.39: 530 Hieron 3.3: 89 3.6: 134 Memorabilia 1.2.52: 388 1.5.2: 97 1.6.1: 546 3.7.6: 320 Oikonomikos: 480 2.3: 279 8.22: 97 9.2–5: 97 9.5: 98, 104, 313 10.2: 106 10.7: 106 Symposion 1.4: 117 Zenobios Epitome 3.64 (Schneidewin & von Leutsch): 369 Inscriptions Langdon (1991) P. 2: 467 Langdon (1991) P. 5 lines 13–14: 388 lines 6–8: 590 lines 16–35: 590 line 36: 591 Langdon (1991) P. 26 lines 478–80: 387 lines 486–8: 387 lines 498–510: 387 line 530: 591

Index Locorum Gortyn Code 2.2–20: 132 2.20–45: 89, 132 2.33–45: 138 Hesperia 5 [1936], pp. 404–5 lines 133–5: 387 lines 141–3: 387 lines 153–65: 387 line 185: 591 10 [1941], pp. 14–19 lines 13–14: 388 lines 16–35: 590 line 36: 591 28 [1959], pp. 208–38, face A lines 108–11: 521 lines 247–50: 521 lines 392–5: 521 28 [1959], pp. 208–38, face B lines 11–13: 521 lines 59–60: 521 lines 109–11: 521 lines 207–8: 521 lines 335–42: 366 51 [1982], pp. 75–90: 467 IG i3 6.26–7: 402 40.75: 680 71.14: 680 78.36–7: 448 82.25–8: 589 102: 515 104: 44 104.11: 283 104.11–13: 309 104.17: 46 104.19: 46 104.7–8: 126 105: 620 113: 459 421–430: 400 422.190: 469 426.9: 469 426.42: 469 426.105: 469 426.140: 469 426.184: 469 426.189: 469 430.2: 469 430.9: 469 430.26: 469 IG ii2 10: 14, 15, 16 1078.18–22: 548

1128.18: 142 1128.28: 142 1153.3–7: 368 1177: 114 1191.17: 443 1241: 534 1361.14–15: 614 1362.9–10: 142 1498.21: 520 1553 col.1 lines 24–6: 521 1566 face A lines 21–3: 521 1566 face B lines 39–41: 521 1566 face B lines 69–70: 521 2311: 482, 483 2492.5–7: 521 2493: 534 3042: 629 M. J. Osborne 1981–3 no. D.2: 515 no. D.3: 459 no. D.6: 14, 266, 320, 521 Meiggs & Lewis 23.10: 241 61.20–21: 404 85: 515 Rhodes & Osborne no. 4: 14, 266, 522 no. 4, col. 4, line 7: 320 no. 4, col. 4, line 21: 320 no. 4, col. 7, line 4: 320 no. 5, lines 63–4: 610–11 no. 9: 263 no. 10, lines 6–7: 445 no. 22, lines 43–4: 611 no. 26: 402 no. 59, lines 17–20: 534 SEG 12 [1955], 87.22–7: 127 17 [1960], 2.109–14: 402 21 [1965], 80.1: 520 21 [1965], 530.5–7: 614 21 [1965], 562.14: 570 24 [1969], 151.24: 147 26 [1976–77], 72.30: 142 27 [1977], 261B.13–15: 137 28 [1978], 60.56–64: 570 30 [1980], 61, frag.ab, lines 27–9: 402 30 [1980], 61.29: 443 Lexicographers Anecdota Oxoniensia, vol.2 s.v. α2πειπε;ν (apeipein) p. 490.5 (Cramer): 546

753

754

Index Locorum

Lexicographers (Contd.) Anecdota Oxoniensia, vol.2 (Contd.) s.v. δικαωσι (dikaio¯sis), p. 493.2 (Cramer): 582 cod. Vat. gr. 12, fol.107–111 s.v. @ξ$χειρ (oxukheir), p. 5.16 (Reitzenstein): 350 Etymologicum Magnum s.v. φαρµακ* (pharmakos), 787.55–788. 7 (Gaisford): 473 Favorinus s.v. α2πλλειν (apillein): 626 s.v. πιγν=µονα (epigno¯monas): 531 Harpokration: 27 s.v. α2 ρκτον (aerkton): 533 s.v. α2µφιδρ*µια (amphidromia): 122 s.v. α2πλλειν (apillein): 626, 627 s.v. α2πολαχε;ν (apolakhein): 350 s.v. α2ποπεφασµ νον (apopephasmenon): 626 s.v. α2π*ρρητα (aporrhe¯ta): 626, 627 s.v. α?λειο (auleios): 111 s.v. βασανσα (basanisas): 334 s.v. δικαωσι (dikaio¯sis): 582 s.v. εσαγγελα (eisangelia): 663 s.v. νεπσκηµµα (enepiske¯mma): 28 s.v. ξο$λη (exoule¯s): 28, 528 s.v. παγγελα (epangelia): 568 s.v. πιγν=µονα (epigno¯monas): 479, 531 s.v. πιορκσαντα (epiorke¯santa): 626, 627 s.v. ζητητ (ze¯te¯te¯s): 461 s.v. καταπλξ (kataple¯x): 471 s.v. καταχ$σµατα (katakhusmata): 122 s.v. µ ταυλο (metaulos): 111 s.v. οκ ω (oikeo¯s): 626, 627 s.v. πεφασµ νη (pephasmene¯s): 626, 627 s.v. ποδοκα´κκη (podokakke¯): 626, 627, 680 s.v. προθεσµα ν*µο (prothesmias nomos): 526 s.v. πωλσι (po¯lo¯si): 684 s.v. σηκ* (se¯kos): 477, 479, 485, 521 s.v. σ$νδικοι (sundikoi): 590 s.v. φαρµακ* (pharmakos): 473 Hesykhios s.v. δρασκα´ζειν (draskazein), D.2329 (Latte): 626 s.v. :ρχεν (e¯rkhen), E¯. 864 (Latte): 377 s.v. λωποδ$ται (lo¯podutai), L.1512 (Latte): 674 s.v. πατραλοα (patraloias), P. 1122 (Schmidt): 672

s.v. στασα´µενον (stasamenon), S.1642 (Schmidt): 682 Lexica Segueriana Diko¯n Onomata s.v. παιτι=τατοι (epaitio¯tatoi), p. 188.5 [Bekker]: 539 Peri Suntaxeo¯s s.v. α2γαπ (agapao¯), p. 129.23–25 [Bekker]: 231 s.v. α2ποκεροµαι (apokeiromai), p. 129.20–22 [Bekker]: 161 s.v. 7βρζω (hubrizo¯), p. 176.25–29 [Bekker]: 109 Lexicon Vindobonense s.v. α2γαπ (agapao¯), A.113, 21.8–11 (Nauck): 231 s.v. @ξ$χειρ (oxukheir), O.5, p. 131. 1–2 (Nauck): 350 s.v. ποιε;ν (poiein), P. 90, p. 151.8–10 (Nauck): 211 Philemon s.v. α2γαπ (agapao¯), p. 226.5–p. 227.3 (Osann): 231 Photios, Lexicon s.v. α2 ρκτον (aerkton) 37. 20–21 (Reitzenstein): 533 s.v. α2ποπεφασµ νον (apopephasmenon), A.2604 (Theodoridis): 626 s.v. σηκ* (se¯kos), vol. 2 p. 153, lines 6–14 (Naber): 477, 486 Pollux 8.34: 682 8.41: 449 8.97: 590 Souda s.v. α2γαπ (agapao¯), (A.161 Adler): 231 s.v. α2 ρκτον (aerkton) (A. 560 Adler): 533 s.v. α2λοιν (aloio¯n) (A.1416 Adler): 672 s.v. α2πεπατο (apeipato) (A.3124 Adler): 546 s.v. α2ποπεφασµ νον (apopephasmenon) (A.3475 Adler): 626 s.v. ∆ιαγ*ρα K Μλιο (Diagoras ho Me¯lios) (D.524 Adler): 405 s.v. δικαωσι (dikaio¯sis) (D.1085 Adler): 582 s.v. πιορκσαντα (epiorke¯santa) (E.2499 Adler): 626 s.v. Θε*δωρο (Theodo¯ros) (Th.149 Adler): 403–4 s.v. θηλα´ζειν (the¯lazein) (Th.331 Adler): 98 s.v. Καλλµαχο (Kallimakhos) (K.227 Adler): 26

Index Locorum s.v. Λυσα (Lysias) (L.858 Adler): 8, 9 s.v. µοραι (moriai) (M. 1248 Adler): 477, 485, 523 s.v. Πα'λο (Paulos) (P.811 Adler): 478 s.v. πεφασµ νο (pephasmenos) (P.1417 Adler): 626 s.v. σηκ* (se¯kos) (S. 302 Adler): 477, 485, 521

755

s.v. φαρµακ* (pharmakos) (Ph.105 Adler): 473 Sunago¯ge¯ Lexeo¯n Khre¯simo¯n s.v. α2ποπεφασµ νον (apopephasmenon), A.1925 (Cunningham): 626 Zonaras s.v. δικαωσι (dikaio¯sis) (D 519, vol. 1 p. 519.1–4, Tittmann): 582

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Index of Greek Terms This is intended not as a comprehensive index, but rather to help the reader to locate discussions of the usages or nuances of particular Greek words, either in the Commentaries or occasionally in the Introductions. Except in cases where the linguistic signiﬁcance of the term is under discussion, therefore, those Greek terms which are used to denote places or e.g. legal institutions will be found primarily in the General Index rather than here. This index is restricted largely to words in Greek, but a few comparative discussions of Latin terms are included at the end. With the hope of serving the needs of the widest variety of readers (cf. pp.40–1 above), both the Greek word and its transliteration are presented together in this index, though the alphabetic order followed is that of the Greek. The absence of accompanying translations is deliberate, since the passages indexed here often discuss a range of meanings within the semantic ﬁeld of a particular term, but I have tended to list cognate terms under a single lemma (e.g. verb and noun, or singular and plural where these have distinct usages). Italic font has been used to indicate references to footnotes; bold font to highlight a small number of discussions of key importance. α2γορα´ (agora): See General Index α2γοραστ (agoraste¯s): 97 α2γορε$ω (agoreuo¯): 615 α%γραφο ν*µο (agraphos nomos): See s.v. ν*µο α2γρ* (agros): 57, 105, 515 α2γ=ν (ago¯n): 148, 211, 254, 607, 664 α2γ<ν πταφιο (ago¯n epitaphios): 273 α%δεια (adeia): 135 α2δικ ω (adikeo¯): 381 α2θα´νατοι (athanatoi): 273 α1κεια (aikeia): 131 α!ρ οµαι (haireomai): 535 ασχ$νω, ασχ$νη (aiskhuno¯, aiskhune¯): 91, 316 ασχ$νb βS (aiskhune¯i biai): 130 α2κ*λουθο (akolouthos): 456 α2κο$ω (akouo¯): 665 κακ α2κο$ω (kako¯s akouo¯): 546, 593, 632, 690 α2κρωτρια, α2κρωτηρια´ζοµαι (akro¯te¯ria, akro¯te¯riazomai): 458 α%κων (ako¯n): 283 α2λιτριο (alite¯rios): 454, 473, 615 α%λλο (allos): 529 α2λλ*τριο (allotrios): 253, 453 α2µαθα, α2µαθ (amathia, amathe¯s): 315 αBµαρτα´νω, αBµαρτα, αBµα´ρτηµα (hamartano¯, hamartia, hamarte¯ma): 221, 316, 568

α2µφισβητ ω (amphisbe¯teo¯): 375 α2ναγκα;ο, α2ναγκα;οι (anankaios, anankaioi): 572 α2ναγρα´φω (anagrapho¯): 614 α2να´γω, α2ναγωγ (anago¯, anago¯ge¯): 574 α2νακαλ ω, α2νακαλ οµαι (anakaleo¯, anakaleomai): 613 α2νδρα´ποδον (andrapodon): 141–2, 675 α2νδραποδζω, α2νδραποδισµ* (andrapodizo¯, andrapodismos): 257 α2νδραποδιστ (andrapodiste¯s): 626, 674–5, 703 α%νδρε δικαστα (andres dikastai): 88 α2νδροληψα (androle¯psia): 223 α2νδροφ*νο (androphonos): 635, 670–1, 675 α2νδρ=ν (andro¯n): 98 α2νελε$θερο (aneleutheros): 626 α%νθρωπο (anthro¯pos): 131 α%νθρωπο, G (anthro¯pos, he¯): 107 α%νθρωπο, K (anthro¯pos, ho): 96 α2ν*ητο (anoe¯tos): 315 α2ντδικο, α2ντιδικ ω (antidikos, antidikeo¯): 450, 524, 605 α%ξων (axo¯n): 127 α2παγορε$ω (apagoreuo¯): 611, 670 α2παγ=γη (apago¯ge¯): See General Index α2παλλαγ, α2παλλα´ττοµαι (apallage¯, apallattomai): 450 α2παντα´ω (apantao¯): 247 α2πλλω (apillo¯): 626, 682

758

Index of Greek Terms

α2πολαγχα´νω (apolankhano¯): 369 α2ποβα´λλω, α2ποβολε$ (apoballo¯, apoboleus): 634, 663, 673, 703 α2πογραφ (apographe¯): See General Index α2ποδ χοµαι (apodekhomai): 674 α2ποδιδρα´σκω (apodidrasko¯): 623 α2ποδδωµι (apodido¯mi): 128, 271, 374 α2ποδοκιµα´ζω (apodokimazo¯): 462 α2π*θετο (apothetos): 550, 579 α2ποκλεω (apokleio¯): 682 α2π*ρρητα (aporrhe¯ta): 471, 626, 632, 634, 635, 640, 663, 665 α2ποτυµπανισµ* (apotumpanismos): See General Index α2πραγµοσ$νη, α2πρα´γµων (apragmosune¯, apragmo¯n): 16, 310, 480, 636 α%ρθρα ν α%ρθροι -χων (arthra en arthrois ekho¯n): 127 α2ριστια (ariste¯ia): 245 α2ρχ, α2ρχα, α%ρχων (arkhe¯, arkhai, arkho¯n): 159, 395, 445, 547, 583, 588, 613, 615 α2ρχε;ον (arkheion): 583, 616, 633 α2στασαστο (astasiastos): 255 α2στ* (astos): 453 α2στρα´τευτο (astrateutos): 619 α%στυ, ο! ν α%στει/ξ α%στεω (astu, hoi en astei/ex asteo¯s): 17, 464 α2τακτ ω (atakteo¯): 609 α2τιµα, α%τιµο (atimia, atimos): 451, 458, 466, 687. See also General Index α?λειο θ$ρα (auleios thura): 111 ατοκρα´τωρ (autokrato¯r): 451 ατ* (autos): 145, 545, 572, 576, 578 ατοχειρS (autokheiriai): 639 ατ*χθων (autokhtho¯n): 226–29 α2φανζω (aphanizo¯): 222, 486 α2φειδ ω (apheideo¯): 233 α%φεσι (aphesis): See General Index α2φστηµι (aphiste¯mi): 327 βα´σανο, βασανζω (basanos, basanizo¯): 333–34, 378. See also General Index s.v. torture βασιλε$, βασιλεα, βασιλε$οµαι (basileus, basileia, basileuomai): 159, 229, 445 β λτιστο (beltistos): 311, 683 βια´ζοµαι (biazomai): 133 βιν ω, βινο'µαι (bineo¯, binoumai): 53 βο (bios): 381–2, 461 βλα´βη (blabe¯): 132 βλασφηµ ω (blasphe¯meo¯): 632 βοηθ ω, βοθεια (boe¯theo¯, boe¯theia): 247, 687 βουλε$οµαι (bouleuomai): 620 βο$λευσι (bouleusis): 638–9

γαµ ω, γαµο'µαι (gameo¯, gamoumai): 53, 129 γεργο (geo¯rgos): 521 γναφε;ον (gnapheion): 320 γνσιο (gne¯sios): 246 γν=µη (gno¯me¯): 135, 245, 325. See also General Index γραµµατε;ον (grammateion): 147, 368, 613 γρα´φω (grapho¯): 671 γυµν* (gumnos): 119 γυναικων;τι (gunaiko¯nitis): 50, 55, 98, 104, 313 γυν (gune¯): 107, 129 δα´µαρ (damar): 128, 129 δειν*τη (deinote¯s): 56, 636 δε;πνον (deipnon): 101, 117 δεσπ*τη (despote¯s): 525 δηµηγορ ω (de¯me¯goreo¯): 462, 628, 660 δηµοκρατα (de¯mokratia): 154 δ8µο (de¯mos): 620 δ8µο πληθ$ων (de¯mos ple¯thuo¯n): 620 δηµ*σιον (de¯mosion): 396 δηµοτ (de¯mote¯s): 473 διαβα´λλω, διαβολ (diaballo¯, diabole¯): 577, 605 διαγιγν=σκω (diagigno¯sko¯): 309, 529 διαλαµβα´νω (dialambano¯): See s.v. λαµβα´νω διαλ γοµαι (dialegomai): 610 διαλλαγα, διαλλα´ττω, διαλλα´ττοµαι (diallagai, diallatto¯, diallattomai): 364–5, 366 διαλ$ω, διαλ$σει (dialuo¯, dialuseis): 365, 366 διαµαρτυρα, διαµαρτυρ ω (diamarturia, diamartureo¯): 567 διαρρδην (diarrhe¯de¯n): 126, 128, 615 διαφθερω (diaphtheiro¯): 91, 133 διαφορα´ (diaphora): 145 διδα´σκω (didasko¯): 677 δικα´ζω, δικα´ζοµαι (dikazo¯, dikazomai): 309, 466, 529, 570 δικαωσι (dikaio¯sis): 582 δικαστ, δικαστριον (dikaste¯s, dikaste¯rion): 473, 680 o α%νδρε δικαστα (o¯ andres dikastai): 88 δκη, δκαι (dike¯, dikai): 125–6, 130, 229, 284, 324, 449, 512, 547 δκην δδωµι/λαµβα´νω (dike¯n dido¯mi/ lambano¯): 450, 457, 525 δκην @φλισκα´νω (dike¯n ophliskano¯): 691 For the use of dike¯ to denote a type of prosecution, see General Index

Index of Greek Terms δι*µνυµι, διωµοσα (diomnumi, dio¯mosia): See General Index s.v. dio¯mosia διπλ8ν βλα´βην (diple¯n blabe¯n): 131, 685 δι=κω (dio¯ko¯): 335 δ*γµα, δ*γµατα (dogma, dogmata): 466 δοκιµασα (dokimasia): See General Index δο'λο, δο$λη (doulos, doule¯): 141–2, 525, 685 δρασκα´ζω (draskazo¯): 626, 681–2 δ$ναµι, δ$ναµαι (dunamis, dunamai): 223, 333, 528, 671 δυναστεα, δυναστεαι (dunasteia, dunasteiai): 159, 228, 618–19 -γκληµα (enkle¯ma): 250, 284, 567, 606 -γκτησι (enkte¯sis): See General Index -γχουσα (enkhousa): 106 ερνη (eire¯ne¯): 464, 517 εσαγγ λλω, εσαγγελα (eisangello¯, eisangelia): 662–3 εσ ρχοµαι (eiserkhomai): 92, 117 εσφορα´ (eisphora): See General Index κδδωµι (ekdido¯mi): 223 κε;νο (ekeinos): 545, 568, 572, 576, 578, 691 κκ*πτω (ekkopto¯): 147, 486 κλαµβα´νω (eklambano¯): See s.v. λαµβα´νω κµαρτυρα (ekmarturia): See General Index κτ µνω (ektemno¯): 486 κφορα´ (ekphora): 95 /κ=ν (heko¯n): 283 λ γχο, λ γχω (elenkhos, elenkho¯): 375, 395 -λεο (eleos): 687 λε$θερο (eleutheros): 131 λε$θεροι πα;δε (eleutheroi paides): See s.v. παλλακ cλκο (helkos): 339 cλκω (helko¯): 103 ναντον (enantion): 550 να´πτοµαι (enaptomai): 105 cνεκα (heneka): 443 ν -ργ (en ergo¯i): 127 -νοχο (enokhos): 634, 686 ντ* (entos): 582–3 ξαιτ ω (exaiteo¯): 223 ξαλεφω (exaleipho¯): 147 ξελ γχοµαι (exelenkhomai): 463 ξ ρχοµαι (exerkhomai): 117 ξγησι, ξηγ οµαι (exe¯ge¯sis, exe¯geomai): 402 ξορ$ττω (exorutto¯): 484, 486 /ορτ (heorte¯): 443 π2 ατοφ=ρ (ep’ autopho¯ro¯i): 114, 115 παγγ λλω, παγγελα (epangello¯, epangelia): 568–9, 662–3

759

πα´γω (epago¯): 528 πατιο (epaitios): 539 πεγκαλ ω (epenkaleo¯): 567 πιβολ, πιβα´λλω (epibole¯, epiballo¯): 455, 531, 589, 606, 612 πιβουλε$ω (epibouleuo¯): 139–40, 331, 394, 513–14 πιβουλ (epiboule¯): 455 πιδεκνυµι (epideiknumi): 471, 472 πιδηµ ω (epide¯meo¯): 118 πιθυµ ω, πιθυµα (epithumeo¯, epithumia): 311 πικαλ ω (epikaleo¯): 570 πκληρο (epikle¯ros): 271. See further General Index πιορκ ω (epiorkeo¯): 626, 681 πσκηψι (episke¯psis): 336 πιτα´ττω (epitatto¯): 451 πιτδειοι, πιτδεια (epite¯deioi, epite¯deia): 112, 116, 567, 572 πιτδευµα, πιτηδε$µατα (epite¯deuma, epite¯deumata): 622 πιτιµα´ω (epitimao¯): 462 πτιµο (epitimos): 451 πιτροπε$ω (epitropeuo¯): 668 -ρανο, ρανιστα (eranos, eranistai): 366, 547, 548 ραστ (eraste¯s): 278, 310, 312 ργαστριον (ergaste¯rion): 610, 684 -ργον (ergon): 177, 216, 229. See also s.v. ν -ργ -ρηµο (ere¯mos): 540 ρ=µενο (ero¯menos): 278, 312 /στα (hestia): 122 /ταιρ ω, /ταρησι (hetaireo¯, hetaire¯sis): 328–9 /ταρα (hetaira): 113, 117, 129, 339, 375, 684 /τα;ρο, /ταιρεα (hetairos, hetaireia): 328, 547 cτοιµο (hetoimos): 537 εθεια, εθη (eue¯theia, eue¯the¯s): 315 ε?θυναι (euthunai): See also General Index εθ$να 7π χω (euthunas hupekho¯): 617 εθ$νη sing.: 691 ερ$πρωκτο (eurupro¯ktos): 50 φ λκοµαι (ephelkomai): 105 φ ται (ephetai): 45–6, 89 φηβεα (ephe¯beia): See General Index φηγ οµαι (ephe¯geomai): 528 -χθρα, χθρ* (ekhthra, ekhthros): 60, 92, 317, 349, 379, 528

760

Index of Greek Terms

ζηµα, ζηµι*ω (ze¯mia, ze¯mioo¯): 147, 524, 531, 538, 579, 612 ζ (zo¯): 461 Iλιαα, Gλιαια´ (e¯liaia, he¯liaia): 680 Gλικα, Gλικαι (he¯likia, he¯likiai): 591 θερα´πων, θερα´παινα (therapo¯n, therapaina): 141–2, 525, 537 θερα´παινα (therapaina): 58, 104 θερµ* (thermos): 215 θ σι (thesis): 573 θεωρ ω, θεωρ* (theo¯reo¯, theo¯ros): 444, 570–1 θιασται (thiaso¯tai): 547 δι=τη (idio¯te¯s): 395 !ερ*ν, !ερα´ (hieron, hiera): 219, 548, 692 !εροσυλα (hierosulia): 387–8 !κετε$ω (hiketeuo¯): 225–6 σοτελ, σοτ λεια (isotele¯s, isoteleia): See General Index κακηγορα, κακηγορ ω (kake¯goria, kake¯goreo¯): 593, 632, 633, 634 κακ*, κακα (kakos, kakia): 258, 572 κακο'ργο (kakourgos): See General Index κακ α2κο$ω, κακ λ γω (kako¯s akouo¯, kako¯s lego¯): 546, 593, 632, 690 κατα´ (kata), as preposition in speech titles: 543 κατα´λογο, καταλ γω (katalogos, katalego¯): 592 κατασκ δαννυµι (kataskedannumi): 689 καταφρον ω (kataphroneo¯): 325, 606 καταχ$σµατα (katakhusmata): 122 κατηγορ ω (kate¯goreo¯): 113 κε;µαι (keimai): 210 κελε$ω (keleuo¯): 121 κ ρδο (kerdos): 524, 687 κνδυνο, κινδυνε$ω (kindunos, kinduneuo¯): 214, 248, 309 κλ πο (klepos): 682 κλµαξ (klimax): 99 κνα´πτω (knapto¯): See s.v. γναφε;ον κ*λαξ, κολακε$ω (kolax, kolakeuo¯): 445 κ*σµιο, κοσµι*τη (kosmios, kosmiote¯s): 120, 138, 311, 540 κ$ριο, κ$ριοι (kurios, kurioi): 114, 125, 136, 451, 525 κµο (ko¯mos): 351 λαµβα´νω, διαλαµβα´νω, κλαµβα´νω (lambano¯, dialambano¯, eklambano¯): 260, 676

λ γω (lego¯): 665 κακ λ γω (kako¯s lego¯): 546, 593, 632 λε$κωµα (leuko¯ma): 613 λογογρα´φο (logographos): 3, 29 λ*γο, λ*γοι (logos, logoi): 177, 216, 229, 528 λ*γον ποιο'µαι (logon poioumai): 605 λοιδορ ω, λοιδορα (loidoreo¯, loidoria): 144, 546, 593, 632 λο$οµαι (louomai): 99 λωποδ$τη (lo¯podute¯s): 674 µανα (mania): 315 µαρτυρ ω, µαρτυρα (martureo¯, marturia): 321, 567, 702 µαρτ$ροµαι (marturomai): 321 µα´χη (makhe¯): 320, 322 µεγαλοφροσ$νη (megalophrosune¯): 236 µεθ$ω (methuo¯): 103–4 µειρα´κιον (meirakion): 277–8 µελετα´ω, µελετ (meletao¯, melete¯): 541, 626, 672 µετα´, ο! (meta, hoi): 587–9 µετα´: See also s.v. οjνο µ ταυλο θ$ρα (metaulos thura): 111 µ τριο, µετρω (metrios, metrio¯s): 608, 623 µην$ω, µνυσι (me¯nuo¯, me¯nusis): 113, 333, 388, 456, 551 µητραλοα (me¯traloias): See s.v. πατραλοα µηχανα´οµαι, µηχαν (me¯khanaomai, me¯khane¯): 329 µνησικακ ω (mne¯sikakeo¯): 409 µοιχεα, µοιχ*, µοιχε$ω (moikheia, moikhos, moikheuo¯): 46–9, 91, 103, 124–5, 133, 134, 684 µοιχα´, µοιχε$τρια (moikhas, moikheutria): 48 µοιχε$ω, µοιχε$οµαι (moikheuo¯, moikheuomai): 48, 53, 107 µοιχ* (moikhos): 53, 128 µ*νο (monos): 342 µορα (moria): 482–3, 485–7, 520 µυ (muo¯): 402 να$κληρο (naukle¯ros): 454 νεανσκο (neaniskos): 59, 137–8, 277 νοµζω, νοµιζ*µενα (nomizo¯, nomizomena): 219, 454 ν*µο (nomos): 146, 177, 220, 229, 233, 261, 446, 611, 670, 681. See also s.v. πα´τριο ν*µο α%γραφο ν*µο (agraphos nomos): 448 ν*µιµα (nomima): 472 νοµοθ τη (nomothete¯s): 129, 448, 671 ν*µον τθηµι (nomon tithe¯mi): 337, 448

Index of Greek Terms For the distinction between nomos and pse¯phisma, see General Index s.v. nomothesia ξ νο, ξ νοι, ξενα (xenos, xenoi, xenia): 265, 445, 453 ξυν- (xun-), as compounding preposition: 551 ξ$λον (xulon): 680–1 οsδε (hoide): 582, 617, 622, 623 οκε;ο, οκει*τη (oikeios, oikeiote¯s): 94–5, 133, 134, 314, 453 οκ τη (oikete¯s): 141–2, 525, 527 οκε$ (oikeus): 626, 685 οjκο, οκα (oikos, oikia): 47, 48–9, 58, 133, 134, 461, 540, 591 οκδιον (oikidion): 97 ο! µετα´ (hoi meta): 587–9 οjνο (oinos) µετ2 ο1νου (met’ oinou): 373 @λιγαρχα (oligarkhia): 691 Kµ*νοια (homonoia): 229, 265 9πλον (hoplon): 663 @ργενε (orgeo¯nes): 547, 614 @ρθο πεια (orthoepeia): 670 9ρκοι κα συνθ8και (horkoi kai sunthe¯kai): 262, 326, 463 dστρακον (ostrakon): 330 οσα (ousia): 515 ο3το, ο3τοι (houtos, houtoi): 395, 449, 545, 577, 582, 617, 622 ο7τοσ (houtosi): 675 @φλισκα´νω (ophliskano¯): 691 παιδε$ω, παδευσι (paideuo¯, paideusis): 215 πα; (pais): 131, 675 παιδον (paidion): 277, 332–3 παιδσκη (paidiske¯): 58, 104, 131, 675 παλαι* (palaios): 677 παλλακ (pallake¯): 129 π2 λευθ ροι παισν (ep’ eleutherois paisin): 129–30 πανγυρι (pane¯guris): 443 παραγγ λλω (parangello¯): 141 παραγγνοµαι (paragignomai): 319, 323 παραδ χοµαι (paradekhomai): 674 παραδδωµι (paradido¯mi): 537, 668 παρακαταθκη (parakatathe¯ke¯): 550, 579. See also General Index s.v. dike¯ parakatathe¯ke¯s παραλαµβα´νω (paralambano¯): 668

761

παρανοµα, παρα´νοµο, παραν*µω (paranomia, paranomos, paranomo¯s): 312, 660. See also General Index s.v. graphe¯ paranomo¯n παρασκευα´ζοµαι, παρασκευ (paraskeuazomai, paraskeue¯): 119, 141, 309, 462, 513, 526, 538 πα´ρεδρο (paredros): 467. See also General Index πα´ρειµι (pareimi): 576 πα´ροινο, παροιν ω, παροινα (paroinos, paroineo¯, paroinia): 103, 144, 323, 373, 374 πατραλοα (patraloias): 626, 634, 671–2 πα´τριο (patrios) κατα` τα` πα´τρια (kata ta patria): 127 πα´τριο ν*µο (patrios nomos): 150, 273 πα´τριο πολτεια (patrios politeia): 678 πατρ (patris): 218, 228, 335 πειρα´ω (peirao¯): 103 π νη, πενα (pene¯s, penia): 92, 240–1, 480, 524 π ρα, τ* (to peras): 582–3 περιππτω (peripipto¯): 512 πεφασµ νω, πεφασµ νη (pephasmeno¯s, pephasmene¯s): 626, 683 πνακε (pinakes): 147 πνω (pino¯): 103–4 ππτω (pipto¯): 322–3 πστει (pisteis): 382 πλ8θο (ple¯thos): 620 πληµµελ ω (ple¯mmeleo¯): 616 ποδοκα´κκη (podokakke¯): 626, 680–1 ποι ω (poieo¯): 211, 367 π*λι (polis): 100, 228, 444, 469 πολτεια (politeia): 535, 623. See also s.v. πα´τριο πολτεια πολτη (polite¯s): 586 πολυπραγµ*συνη (polupragmosune¯): 109. See also s.v. α2πραγµοσ$νη πονηρ* (pone¯ros): 524 π*ρνο, π*ρνη, πορνε$οµαι (pornos, porne¯, porneuomai): 129, 312, 328–29, 375. See also General Index s.v. prostitution πρα´γµα, πρα´γµατα (pragma, pragmata): 512, 579, 606 πρ πον, τ* (to prepon): 33 προαγωγε$ω (proago¯geuo¯): 684 προθυµα, πρ*θυµο, προθ$µω (prothumia, prothumos, prothumo¯s): 536, 538 πρ*κειµαι (prokeimai): 146, 607 πρ*κλησι (prokle¯sis): 380, 454. See also General Index s.v. torture

762

Index of Greek Terms

πρ*νοια (pronoia): 282–3, 331, 335, 337, 347, 373 προπ ρυσιν (properusin): 607 πρ* (pros) as compounding preﬁx: 457, 680 as preposition in speech titles: 543 προσα´γω (prosago¯): 577 πρ*σοδοι (prosodoi): 462 προστα´τη (prostate¯s): 164, 257. See also General Index προστιµα´ω (prostimao¯): 626, 680 προσφ ρω (prosphero¯): 97 προσφοιτα´ω (prosphoitao¯): 610 πρ*φασι (prophasis): 454, 614 πτωχ* (pto¯khos): 92 πυρκαια´ (purkaia): 530 πωλ οµαι (po¯leomai): 626, 683–4 (πτω (rhipto¯): 673, 703 (ψασπι (rhipsaspis): 663, 673, 703 σαν, σανδιον (sanis, sanidion): 613 σηκ* (se¯kos): 485–7 σηµε;ον (se¯meion): 378 σιδηρο' (side¯rous): 626, 686 σκαι* (skaios): 550, 626, 677 στα´σιµο (stasimos): 626, 682–3 στα´σι, στασια´ζω (stasis, stasiazo¯): 232, 255, 261, 264, 488 στ λεχο (stelekhos): 483 στλη (ste¯le¯): 126, 147, 614–15 στολ (stole¯): 471, 472 στρατεα, στρατε$οµαι (strateia, strateuomai): 342 στρατηγε;ον (strate¯geion): 583, 616 συγγν=µη (sungno¯me¯): 687, 693 σ$γκειµαι (sunkeimai): 329 συκοφαντ ω, συκοφα´ντη (sukophanteo¯, sukophante¯s): 143 συλλ γοµαι (sullegomai): 610–11 συµβ*λαιον (sumbolaion): 326, 394 συµβουλε$ω (sumbouleuo¯): 462, 608 συµπολιτε$οµαι, συµπολτη (sumpoliteuomai, sumpolite¯s): 586 συµφορα´ (sumphora): 311, 316, 468, 518, 689 συν δριον, σ$νεδροι (sunedrion, sunedroi): 611–12, 616 συνθ8και (sunthe¯kai): 464. See also s.v. 9ρκοι κα συνθ8και συνουσα, συνουσιαστα (sunousia, sunousiastai): 546–7 σ$νειµι (suneimi): 546, 579

συντριηραρχ ω (suntrie¯rarkheo¯): 469 συνωµοσα (suno¯mosia): 547 συνγορο (sune¯goros): 2. See also General Index σχολα´ζω (skholazo¯): 619 σµα (so¯ma): 148, 322, 372, 620 σ=φρων, σωφροσ$νη (so¯phro¯n, so¯phrosune¯): 100, 138, 311 ταµα (tamias): 587 τα´φο (taphos): 210 τεκµριον (tekme¯rion): 378 τεκο'σα (tekousa): 626 τ µνω (temno¯): 486 τ χνη (tekhne¯): 38, 110, 445 τιµα´ω, τιµα´οµαι (timao¯, timaomai): 328, 456, 680. See also General Index s.v. time¯sis, time¯ma τιµωρα, τιµωρ ω (timo¯ria, timo¯reo¯): 90, 130, 264, 687 µεγα´λαι (megalai) and/or µεγσται (megistai) τιµωραι: 338 τ*λµα, τολµα´ω (tolma, tolmao¯): 308, 667 τρα´πεζα (trapeza): 610 τρα'µα, τρα$µατα (trauma, traumata): 283, 632. For dike¯/graphe¯ traumatos ek pronoias, see General Index τρ*πο (tropos): 605, 622 τ$χη (tukhe¯): 309 Hβρι (hubris): 52, 58, 90, 91, 109, 220, 278, 312 7µν ω (humneo¯): 212 7πογραµµατε$ (hupogrammateus): 588 7π*δικο (hupodikos): 626, 673 7ποχεριο (hupokheirios): 372 φαρµακ* (pharmakos): 473 φε$γω (pheugo¯): 335 φµη (phe¯me¯): 214 φιλ*δικο (philodikos): 626 φλο, φλα (philos, philia): 445, 518, 579 φλιο (philios): 610 φιλοσοφ ω (philosopheo¯): 575 φιλοτιµα (philotimia): 324, 343, 344 φιλοψυχ ω (philopsukheo¯): 233 φοιτα´ω (phoitao¯): 332 φ*νο (phonos): 283. See also General Index s.v. dike¯ phonou φυλακ, φυλα´ττοµαι (phulake¯, phulattomai): 320 χα´ρι (kharis): 27, 33, 271, 343, 687 χειροτονα (kheirotonia): 617

Index of Greek Terms χρα´οµαι (khraomai): 366, 446, 447, 676 χρηστ* (khre¯stos): 316 χωρον (kho¯rion): 480, 515, 591 χωρ οκν (kho¯ris oiko¯n): See General Index ψφισµα (pse¯phisma): 447. See also General Index s.v. decree

ψ8φο, ψηφζοµαι (pse¯phos, pse¯phizomai): 457, 465, 589, 617 ψιµ$θιον (psimuthion): 106 ψ$χη (psukhe¯): 244 adulterium (Lat.): 47 nefanda (Lat.): 634 patronus (Lat.): 3

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Index of Names This is an index of ancient persons. It does not cover place names, which are to be found in the General Index. It does include a number of unnamed persons, since it is the nature of forensic oratory that certain categories of individual can be identiﬁed only as ‘speaker of ’ (or ‘opponent in’) a particular speech; the same goes in a few cases for their dependants, esp. women and slaves. I have not attempted to construct a comprehensive index, and have been especially selective in when dealing with individuals who are the subjects of speeches 1–11, preferring to include only those passages where there is substantive discussion of identiﬁcation, characterisation, etc. The reader will ﬁnd in this index only a few references to ancient authors (typically where there is general discussion of an ancient critic’s view of Lysias, or evidential value for our understanding of the speeches); particular passages in such texts are best tracked down by means of the Index Locorum. To assist the reader in identifying even minor ﬁgures, and in distinguishing between individuals of the same name, the majority of index entries are accompanied by short description. In the case of Athenians, this typically includes patronym, demotic, and reference to the three standard prosopographical collections, plus where appropriate a brief indication of their function within the text. Mythological characters (mainly gods and heroes from Lys. 2) are indexed separately at the start, with the rest following without further differentiation. Gods and heroes Adrastos: 213, 218 Alkippe, daughter of Ares: 45 Antiope, Amazon: 216 Apollo: 45, 681 Ares: 45 Artemis: 45 Athene: 482, 587 Bendis: 614 Clytemnestra: 319 Demeter: 157, 400 Ekhelos: 614 Eumolpos: 157, 212, 213 Eurystheus: 156, 212, 213, 224, 225 Halirrhothios, son of Poseidon: 45 Helen: 95 Herakleidai (children of Herakles): 156, 212, 213, 224–5 Herakles: 222, 224 Hippolyte, Queen of the Amazons: 214 Paris: 95 Persephone: 400 Phaedra: 216 Polyneikes: 218 Poseidon: 482 Seven Against Thebes: 156, 212, 218–21

Theseus: 45, 95, 159, 213, 217, 221, 223, 224, 226, 228 Others Adeimantos, s. Leukolophides, of Skambonidai (PA 202, LGPN Attica 19): 258, 469 Agesilaos II, King of Sparta: 340 Agis II, King of Sparta: 517 Agoratos, opponent in Lys. 13 (PA 177, not in LGPN Attica): 50, 142, 409–10, 516, 517 Agyrrhios, of Kollytos (PA 179, LGPN Attica 1, cf. APF 8157.II): 402 Aiskhines, s. Atrometos, of Kothokidai (PA 354, LGPN Attica 54, cf. APF 14625.II), the orator: 3, 18, 310, 374, 402, 445–6, 661 Aiskhyleides, informer under the Thirty (PA 423, LGPN Attica 7): 34–5 Alkias, former tenant of speaker in Lys. 7 (LGPN Attica 9): 521–2 Alkibiades, s. Kleinias, of Skambonidai (PA + APF 600, LGPN Attica 23): 258, 400, 409, 453, 468, 471, 472, 609 Alkibiades, s. Alkibiades, of Skambonidai (PA 598, LGPN Attica 24, cf. APF 600.VIII), son of the above: 12, 666

766

Index of Names

Andokides, s. Leogoras, of Kudathenaion (PA + APF 828, LGPN Attica 7), the orator: 3, 401, 402, 404 Andokides, s. Leogoras, of Kudathenaion (PA 827, LGPN Attica 6, cf. APF 828.V), grandfather of the above: 404–5 Androtion, Atthidographer: 678 Antikles, alleged owner of Agoratos’ father (PA 1054, LGPN Attica 2): 516–17 Antikles, purchaser of land in Lys. 7 (PA 1055, LGPN Attica 7): 517, 519, 523 Antiphon, s. Lysonides, victim of the Thirty (PA 1283, LGPN Attica 5): 637 Antiphon, s. Sophilos, of Rhamnous (PA 1304, LGPN Attica 57), the orator: 3, 8, 34–5, 37, 88, 123, 378, 537 Antisthenes, former owner of Alkias (PA 1185, LGPN Attica 5): 521–2 Anytos, s. Anthemion, probably of Euonymon (PA 1324, LGPN Attica 7): 402–3, 410–11 Apollodoros, of Megara, assassin of Phrynikhos (LGPN Attica 254): 515–16, 519, 523 Apollodoros, s. Pasion, of Akharnai (PA 1411, LGPN Attica 68, cf. APF 11627.XI–XII): 550, 609 Aristogeiton, of Aphidna, tyrannicide (PA 1777, LGPN Attica 9, cf. APF 12267.III): 632 Aristokritos, friend of Simon in Lys. 3 (PA 1931, LGPN Attica 1): 275, 316 Aristophanes, s. Nikophemos (PA 2082, LGPN Attica 2): 22 Arkheptolemos, s. Hippodamas, of Agryle (PA 2384, LGPN Attica 3): 34–5 Arkhidamos II, King of Sparta: 518 Arkhinos, of Koile (PA 2526, LGPN Attica 15): 4, 6, 13, 14, 15, 152 Arkhippos, enemy of Andokides (PA 2542, LGPN Attica 7): 405, 449 Arkhippos, opponent of Teisis in frag. sp. CXXIX (PA 2543, LGPN Attica 3): 375 Arthmios, of Zeleia, accused of Medism: 512 Aspasia, mistress of Perikles: 152 Autokles, friend of Simon (PA 2715, LGPN Attica 6): 275, 319 Autokrates (PA 2738, LGPN Attica 5): 544, 545, 551 Batrakhos, informer under the Thirty (PA 2843, LGPN Attica 4): 34–5, 405, 467

Boiotos, victim of Euaion (PA 2898, LGPN Attica 2): 44 Brakhyllos, brother-in-law of Lysias (PA 2927, LGPN Attica 2): 8 Cicero, Roman Orator: 2–3 Cincinnatus, Roman General: 253 Demaratos, King of Sparta: 233, 241 Demetrios, former tenant of speaker in Lys. 7 (not in PA, LGPN Attica 5): 521 Demokrates, s. Demokles, of Aphidna (PA 3521, LGPN Attica 29, cf. APF 12267.IV): 613 Demosthenes, s. Demosthenes, of Paiania (PA + APF 3597, LGPN Attica 37), the orator: 3, 18, 24, 33, 48, 95, 123, 146, 151, 153, 160, 164, 378, 442, 445, 537, 548, 550, 551, 608, 634, 661 Demosthenes, s. Demomeles, of Paiania (PA 3595, LGPN Attica 36, cf. APF 3597.I+VII), father of the above: 59 Diagoras, of Melos, accused of impiety: 405, 453 Diodoros (PA 3917, LGPN Attica 8): 544, 551, 573, 574, 575 Diokleides, informer (PA 3973, LGPN Attica 3): 397 Diokles, non-witness in Lys. 4 (PA 3988, LGPN Attica 12): 348, 370 Diokles, son of Zakoros (PA 4000, LGPN Attica 2): 474 Dionysios I, tyrant of Syracuse: 6, 7, 259, 445 Dionysios, of Halikarnassos, 1st-cent bc/ad historian and writer on oratory: 6–7, 8, 32–4 Dionysios, witness against Theomnestos in Lys. 10 (PA 4093, LGPN Attica 18): 629, 687–8, 689 Drakon, Athenian legislator (PA 4553, LGPN Attica 1): 44, 47, 126, 127, 130 Epainetos, of Andros, lover of Phano: 47–8, 684 Epikhares, of Lamptrai, member of the Ten (PA 4991, LGPN Attica 47): 401 Epikhares, prosecutor of Andokides (LGPN Attica 7, cf. PA 4991): 401, 465 Epistratos, involved in Lys. frag. sp. XII (not in LGPN Attica): 668 Erasinides, General at Arginousai (PA 5021, LGPN Attica 1): 638

Index of Names Eratosthenes, member of the Thirty (PA 5035, LGPN Attica 4): 5, 13, 16, 34–5, 59–60, 639 Eratosthenes, of Cyrene, 3rd-cent. bc poet and scholar: 679 Eratosthenes, of Oe, the deceased in Lys. 1 (PA 5035, LGPN Attica 3): 43, 52, 57, 59–60, 90, 107–8, 109–10, 137 Eryximakhos, speaker of Lys. frag. sp. L (LGPN Attica 1, where he is tentatively identiﬁed with PA 5187 = LGPN Attica 3): 469 Euagoras, ruler of Salamis in Cyprus: 405, 444, 459 Euaion, of Akharnai (PA 5254, LGPN Attica 2, cf. APF 13921): 44 Eukleides, Arkhon in 403/2 (PA 5674, LGPN Attica 9): 625, 667 Euphiletos, speaker of Lys. 1 (PA 6049, LGPN Attica 4): 43, 51–2, 57–9, 92, 93, 102 unnamed female slave of the above: 53, 54, 58, 59, 96–7, 100, 101–2, 104, 111, 117 unnamed wife of the above: 53, 55, 93, 97, 102, 103, 114 Euryptolemos (PA 5980, LGPN Attica 4): 544, 545, 551 Euthydemos, brother of Lysias (not in LGPN Attica): 8 Harmodios, friend of Euphiletos in Lys. 1 (PA 2230, cf. APF 12267.VI): 52, 140 Harmodios, of Aphidna, tyrannicide (PA 2232, LGPN Attica 1, cf. APF 12267.III): 632 Harmodios, s. Proxenos, of Aphidna (PA 2234, LGPN Attica 4, cf. APF 12267.VI): 140–1 Harpokration, lexicographer: 27–8, 626–7 Hegemakhos (not in PA, LGPN Attica 2): 544, 551, 573 Hipparkhos, s. Kharmos, of Kollytos (PA 7600, LGPN Attica 10, cf. APF 11793.IX): 372 Hippias, of Elis, pre-sokratic philosopher: 611 Hippias, s. Peisistratos (PA 7605, LGPN Attica 1, cf. APF 11793.III), the tyrant: 231 Hypereides, s. Glaukippos, of Kollytos (PA + APF 13912, LGPN Attica 3), the orator: 153 Iatrokles, s. Pasiphon (PA 7442, LGPN Attica 3): 374 Iphikrates, s. Timotheos, of Rhamnous (PA 7737, LGPN Attica 4): 27, 163, 478, 609

767

Isaios, s. Diagoras, probably from Khalkis, the orator: 402, 445 Isokrates, s. Theodoros, of Erkhia (PA + APF 7716, LGPN Attica 13), the orator: 11, 18, 31–2, 152, 549–50, 575, 604–5, 618–19 Isotimides, proposer of decree (PA 7721, LGPN Attica 1): 401 Kaikilios, of Kaleakte, 1st-cent. bc writer on Lysias: 6, 8, 33, 34, 627 Kallias, metic, defendant in Lys. 5 (LGPN Attica 249): 385, 386 unnamed male slaves of the above: 387, 395, 396 Kallias, s. Hipponikos, of Alopeke (PA + APF 7826, LGPN Attica 84): 386, 401–2, 409 Kallias, s. Hipponikos, of Alopeke (PA 7825, LGPN Attica 82, cf. APF 7826.V), grandfather of the above: 256 Kallias, s. Thymokhares, of Sphettos (PA 7824, LGPN Attica 198): 570 Kallikrates (PA 7940, LGPN Attica 11): 585, 609 Kallimakhos, of Cyrene, poet and scholar: 26 Kallistratos, s. Kallikrates, of Aphidna (PA + APF 8157, LGPN Attica 50): 123 Kallistratos, tenant in Lys. 7 (PA 8128, LGPN Attica 2): 520, 521 Kephalos, father of Lysias (APF C.9, not in LGPN Attica): 5, 7, 8, 10–11, 12 Kephalos, of Kollytos (PA 8277, LGPN Attica 5): 402–3 Kephisios, prosecutor of Andokides (PA 8288, LGPN Attica 1): 401, 404, 405, 465 Kharmides, s. Aristoteles (PA 15510, LGPN Attica 5), cousin of Andokides: 457 Kinesias, s. Meles (PA 8438, LGPN Attica 2), dithyrambic poet: 462 Kittos, former slave of Pasion: 378 Kleidemos, Atthidographer: 678 Kleitodikos (PA 8536, LGPN Attica 1): 544, 551 Konon, s. Timotheos, of Anaphlystos (PA 8708, LGPN Attica 21, cf. APF 13700): 159–60, 164, 258–9, 260, 263, 638 Korax, 5th-cent bc Sicilian rhetorician: 38 Kritias, s. Kallaiskhros, member of the Thirty (PA + APF 8792, LGPN Attica 7): 409 Ktesikles, Athenian General (PA 8861, LGPN Attica 5): 583, 585, 586 Lakhes, of Aixone (PA 9017, LGPN Attica 26): 276

768

Index of Names

Lakhes, Taxiarkh (PA 9012, LGPN Attica 6): 276, 341 Lampon (PA 8997, LGPN Attica 6): 276, 321 Leogoras, s. Andokides, of Kudathenaion (PA 9075, LGPN Attica 7, cf. APF 828.VI), father of Andokides the orator: 457 Leon of Salamis (LGPN Attica 66, ? = PA 9100): 409, 637–8 Leosthenes, s. Leosthenes, of Kephale (PA 9142+9144, APF 9142, LGPN Attica 6), Athenian General: 153, 161, 163, 238, 245 Longinus (Cassius Longinus), 3rd-cent. ad rhetorician: 34 Lysander, Spartan Navarkh: 256, 259, 264 Lysimakhos, friend of speaker in Lys. 3 (PA 9487, LGPN Attica 11): 276, 318 Lysitheos, former opponent of Theomnestos in Lys. 10 (PA 9399, LGPN Attica 4): 628, 662, 676 Mantitheos, speaker of Lys. 16 (PA 9674, LGPN Attica 4): 340–1, 386–7 Meidias, of Anagyrous, opponent in Dem. 21 (PA + APF 9719, LGPN Attica 10): 592, 612 Meletos, prosecutor of Andokides (PA 9825, LGPN Attica 4): 401, 409–10, 466, 638 Meletos, s. Meletos, of Pithos (PA 9830, LGPN Attica 14), prosecutor of Sokrates: 409 Menophilos (PA 10124, LGPN Attica 2): 544, 545, 551–2 Metaneira, mistress of Lysias (LGPN Attica 1): 5, 10 Miltiades, s. Kimon, of Lakiadai (PA 10212, LGPN Attica 13, cf. APF 8429.VIII): 534 Milyas, former slave of Demosthenes’ family: 378 Misgolas, s. Naukrates, of Kollytos, associate of Timarkhos (PA 10225, LGPN Attica 1): 318, 366 Molon, fuller (PA 10410, LGPN Attica 4): 276, 321 Myronides, s. Kallias (PA 10509, LGPN Attica 1): 249, 252 Naukles, s. Naukrates, of Kollytos, brother of Misgolas (LGPN Attica 9): 366 Neaira, defendant in Dem. 59 (LGPN Attica 1): 55, 280, 366, 623 Nikeratos, s. Nikias, of Kydantidai, victim of the Thirty (PA 10740, LGPN Attica 26): 637

Nikides, opponent in frag. sp. CXIII (PA 10828, LGPN Attica 1): 24 Nikodemos, s. Aristomenes, of Oinoe (LGPN Attica 47): 591 Nikomakhos, opponent in Lys. 7 (PA 10935, LGPN Attica 3): 479, 527–8, 535 Nikomakhos, opponent in Lys. 30 (PA 10934, LGPN Attica 4): 142, 409–10, 447, 528, 588 Nikomedes, alleged owner of Pankleon (not in PA, LGPN Attica 3): 142 opponent in Lys. 4, unnamed (APF D.13): 348, 349, 351, 364, 373–5, 379 unnamed female slave of the above: 348–9, 366, 372, 374, 375–81 opponents in Lys. 9, unnamed: 587–9, 604 Pankleon, allegedly of Plataia, opponent in Lys. 23 (LGPN Attica 1): 142 Pantaleon, ‘elder brother’ in Lys. 10 (PA 1159, LGPN Attica 3): 637, 668 Pasion, of Akharnai, banker (PA + APF 11672, LGPN Attica 5): 31–2, 522 Paul of Germe, writer on Lysias: 478 Paul of Mysia, writer on Lysias: 27, 34, 478 Pausanias, King of Sparta: 14–15, 262, 263, 264, 409–10, 464 Pausanias, Spartan Regent: 241, 249 Peisander, s. Glauketes, of Akharnai (PA 11770, LGPN Attica 3), member of the Four Hundred: 481, 514 Peitheas, of Corcyra, democratic leader: 488 Perikles, s. Xanthippos, of Kholargos (PA + APF 11811, LGPN Attica 3): 8, 10, 12, 154, 156, 161, 268, 447–8 Perikles, s. Perikles, of Kholargos (PA 11812, LGPN Attica 5, cf. APF 11811.IV), son of the above: 152 Phaedrus, s. Pythokles, of Myrrhinous (PA 13960, LGPN Attica 19, cf. APF 5951): 11 Phainippos, adopt. s. Philostratos, of Kolonai (PA 13978, LGPN Attica 18, cf. APF 14734): 532 Phano, putative daughter of Stephanos and/or Neaira: 47–8, 684 Pharnabazos, Persian Satrap: 259 Pheidon, member of the Thirty and of the Ten (PA 14179, LGPN Attica 2): 639 Philinos, non-witness in Lys. 4 (PA 14303, LGPN Attica 4): 348, 370 Philios, banker (not in PA, LGPN Attica 7): 584, 585, 610

Index of Names Philip II, King of Macedon: 451, 570 Photios, 9th-cent. Patriarch: 9–10, 27, 34, 478 Phrynikhos, s. Stratonides, of Deiradiotai (PA 15011, LGPN Attica 16), member of the Four Hundred: 481, 515 Plato, s. Ariston, of Kollytos (PA 11855, LGPN Attica 24, cf. APF 8792.XI), the philosopher: 5, 17, 154, 157 Polemarkhos, brother of Lysias (not in LGPN Attica): 5, 8, 9, 10, 11, 59, 272, 668 Polemon, of Ilion, 3rd/2nd-cent. bc geographer: 679 Polyainos, presumed speaker of Lys. 9 (PA 11904, LGPN Attica 2): 585–6, 592, 607, 609 Polyainos, testator in Lys. frag. 265 (LGPN Attica 1, cf. PA 11904): 585 Polykles (PA 11981, LGPN Attica 4): 544, 551, 576 Poseidippos, opponent in Lys. frag. sp. CXXII (PA 12118, LGPN Attica 1): 350 Poulytion (PA 12154, LGPN Attica 1): 471 Prodikos, of Keos, pre-Sokratic philosopher: 670 Protagoras of Abdera, pre-Sokratic philosopher: 670 Protarkhos, friend of Simon (PA 12286, LGPN Attica 3): 275, 319 Proteas, former tenant of speaker in Lys. 7 (PA 12297, LGPN Attica 1): 522 Pythodoros, Arkhon in 404/3 (PA 12389, LGPN Attica 10): 520, 625, 667 Simon, opponent in Lys. 3 (PA 12690, LGPN Attica 12): 276, 277–9, 339–42 Sokrates, s. Sophroniskos, of Alopeke (PA 13101, LGPN Attica 30), the philosopher: 152, 279, 409–10, 638 Solon, s. Exekestides (PA 12806, LGPN Attica 1, cf. APF 8792): 127, 135, 447, 575, 678–9. For Solon’s laws, see General Index Sostratos, friend of Euphiletos in Lys. 1 (PA 13326, LGPN Attica 7): 52, 57, 59, 116 Sostratos, linked to Polyainos in Lys. 9 (PA 13327, LGPN Attica 10): 584, 585, 586 Souniades, of Akharnai, Arkhon in 397/6 (PA 12817, LGPN Attica 2): 480 speaker of Dem. 47, unnamed unnamed female slave of the above (retired nurse): 378

769

speaker of Lys. 3, unnamed (APF D.12): 278–9, 284, 310 speaker of Lys. 4, unnamed (APF D.14): 348, 349, 352, 455 speaker of Lys. 5, unnamed: 385, 386 speaker of Lys. 6, unnamed: 404, 408–9, 454, 465–6, 474 speaker of Lys. 7, unnamed (APF D.15): 479–80, 527, 535–6 speaker of Lys. 10, unnamed: 636, 637–40, 690 speaker of Lys. 21, unnamed (APF D.7): 344 Stephanos, of Eroiadai, partner of Neaira (PA 12887, LGPN Attica 33): 47, 48, 372, 612 Straton, of Phaleron, arbitrator in Dem. 21 (PA 13000, LGPN Attica 120): 370, 524, 631, 689 Syrakosios, proposer of decree (PA 13041, LGPN Attica 1): 663 Themistokles, s. Neokles, of Phrearrhioi (PA + APF 6669, LGPN Attica 39): 239, 241, 242, 245, 263, 447 Theodoros, scribe of Palatinus manuscript: 19, 21, 408 Theodotos, of Plataia, object of Lys. 3: 277, 279–81, 284, 326–7, 329, 333 Theogenes, of Erkhia, Basileus (PA 6707, LGPN Attica 29): 612 Theomnestos, opponent in Lys. 10 (PA 6962, LGPN Attica 2): 628, 635, 636, 672, 673, 676, 687, 690, 692 Theomnestos, opponent in Lys. frag. sp. LXV (LGPN Attica 1): 640 Theon, previously prosecuted by Theomnestos in Lys. 10 (PA 7214, LGPN Attica 2): 628, 629, 676 Theophilos, friend of Simon (PA 7105, LGPN Attica 5): 275, 319 Theophrastos, of Eresos, 4th-cent. philosopher: 26 Theopompos, of Khios, 4th-cent. historian: 678 Theosebes, s. Theophilos, of Xypete (LGPN Attica 1): 591 Theozotides, opponent in frag. sp. LXIV (PA + APF 6915, LGPN Attica 2): 4 Theramenes, s. Hagnon, of Steiria, member of the Thirty (PA + APF 7234, LGPN Attica 7): 16, 34–5, 637, 665 Thessalos, s. Kimon, of Lakiadai (PA 7208, LGPN Attica 2, cf. APF 8429.XIII C): 472

770

Index of Names

Thrasyboulos of Kalydon (PA 7311, not in LGPN Attica): 515, 516 Thrasyboulos, s. Lykos, of Steiria (PA + APF 7310, LGPN Attica 22): 4, 6, 261, 263, 403 Thrasymakhos (PA 7349, LGPN Attica 3): 544, 545, 551, 577 Thucydides, s. Oloros, of Halimous (PA 7267, LGPN Attica 11, cf. APF 7268.IV–V), the historian: 153 Timarkhos, s. Teisias, of Rhamnous, opponent in Aiskhin. 1 (PA 13634, LGPN Attica 34, cf. APF 7737): 318, 687 Timomakhos, of Akharnai, Athenian General (PA 13797, LGPN Attica 4, cf. APF 8157.IV): 609

Tisias, 5th-cent bc Sicilian rhetorician: 8, 9, 38 unnamed characters: See s.v. Euphiletos, wife of; s.v. speaker(s) of assorted speeches; s.v. opponent(s) in assorted speeches; and, in the case of slaves, s.v. their owner(s) Xenainetos, Arkhon in 401/0 (PA 11174, LGPN Attica 1): 14–15 Zakoros, Hierophante¯s (PA 6182, LGPN Attica 1): 440, 474

General Index The aim of this index is to provide a guide to the main themes of the book. What to include or exclude in an index of this type is inevitably a matter for personal judgment, but I have sought to focus on the things about these speeches that seem to me most interesting. To avoid wearying the reader with long strings of page-numbers, I have tried where possible to group them under appropriately detailed sub-headings. For ease of reference, individual procedures classiﬁed as dikai and as graphai respectively are listed under the general heading dike¯ and graphe¯. The ordering of the main entries is alphabetical, but in sub-entries this has where appropriate been sacriﬁced to the needs of logic. As in the other Indexes, italic font has been used to indicate references to footnotes; bold font to highlight a small number of discussions of key importance. absentee defendants, possibility of prosecuting 639–40 Acropolis: Athene’s olive on 482, 486; contest of Athene and Poseidon 157, 482; location for legislative inscriptions 126; Persian capture (480 bc) 242, 482 additions to speech, post-trial, see s.v. revision of speeches adultery/moikheia, see s.vv. apago¯ge¯, laws (speciﬁc legal statutes), marriage, prostitution; and Index of Greek terms s.v. µοιχεα advocacy: modern (common-law) 17, 325; Roman 2, 3 age: at marriage 278; coming of age 548, 638; of moral responsibility 667; old age 270 age-differential, in homoerotic relationships 278, 310, 373, 585 age-groups, in military call up (after mid 4th cent.) 591 age-terminology 11, 277–8, 310, 332–3 Agora: access prohibited to certain offenders 457, 664; location for banks 611; location for legislative inscriptions 126; topographical marker 126, 442; venue for shopping 57, 96; ‘working in the’ 634, 635, 684 agriculture: fences, to mark out moriai 486–7; fences, walls, and boundary markers: 533–4 agriculture, Athenian 479; damage done by Dekeleian War (413–404 bc) 479, 481, 486, 518. See also s.v. farming Aigeis (Kleisthenic tribe) 404, 449

Aigina, island of 241 Aigospotamoi, battle of (405 bc) 159, 160, 161, 254, 469; never named in contemporary Orators: 90, 230, 257–8, 405, 468; euphemisms used to refer to: 468, 518; explanations for defeat 258. See also s.v. Generals: at Aigospotamoi Aixone (Athenian deme) 276; as landlord 521 Akamantis (Kleisthenic tribe) 59 Akharnai (Athenian deme) 514 alphabetisation, incompleteness of ancient 25 Amazons, myth of 213–14, 215–18; and Aristotelian gynaecology 215; shifting homeland 215 ambiguity, manipulation of: 119, 121, 281, 316, 451, 517, 537 Amnesty of 403/2 bc 1, 463–5; terminology used to denote 229, 262, 364, 366, 463, 466; clauses on euthunai of oligarchic ofﬁcials 13, 16, 639 (see also s.v. Eleusis, as refuge for former oligarchic partisans); clauses on homicide 127, 639; tendentious interpretation by litigants 2, 17, 146, 409–10, 462, 463, 464, 465; mythologising of, in Athenian tradition 407; pattern of use by defendants 407, 450, 463; modern interpretations 16, 463, 467, 639; rôle of Spartans in imposing 407, 451, 464 anachronism: in Lysias’ epitaphic narrative 160, 240; throughout Plato’s dialogues 11, 152

772

General Index

anakrisis (preliminary hearing before trial) 407, 487–8, 514, 528 Antalkidas, Peace of, see s.v. Peace of Antalkidas/King’s Peace antidosis (exchange of properties in context of liturgy) 323–4, 365; as evidence of enmity 349; agreement to abandon 347, 372; implications for economic status of participants 348; initiative in challenging 343, 352–3, 366–7; litigation involving: 6, 323–4, 328 anto¯mosia (oath of litigants in cases other than homicide) 282, 370 apago¯ge¯ (summary arrest) 115, 674 (see also s.v. kakourgos); and execution without trial 52, 119, 452; and related procedures (endeixis and ephe¯ge¯sis) 452, 459, 528–9; liability to apago¯ge¯: homicide 452, 622; kakourgoi 626, 672; religious offences 388; debate over moikheia: 124–5 aphesis (formal undertaking to renounce litigation) 329, 450, 621 Aphidna (Athenian deme) 141 Apodektai (‘receivers’: public ofﬁcials receiving moneys owed to public and sacred treasuries) 587, 589, 613, 614, 617, 621, 622 apographe¯ (written list of property denounced for conﬁscation) 590–91; and graphe¯ 513, 614; and ordering of speeches within corpus 22, 545; and valuation of property denounced 328; jurisdiction over 590, 620; liability to apographe¯: for defaulting on public debt 387; for unpaid ﬁne 581 aporrhe¯ta (‘words that cannot be spoken’): and conﬁdential public business 665; and defamation 626, 633–5, 663, 664; in religious contexts 471 apotumpanismos (a form of capital punishment) 121, 681 apragmosune¯ (political ‘quietism’) 16, 310, 480, 636 arbitrator (diaite¯te¯s), arbitration: ofﬁcial vis-à-vis private 630–31; ‘daring to say in front of the arbitrator’ 669; swearing of oath in front of arbitrator 45 arbitrator (diaite¯te¯s), arbitration, ofﬁcial or public 514; date of introduction 630, 631; disfranchisement of arbitrator 524, 663, 689; implications for logographer 28, 636; litigants’ right of appeal 630–1; sealing of evidence and knowledge of opponent’s case 631, 669

arbitrator (diaite¯te¯s), arbitration, private: binding nature of 575, 630; friends as private arbitrators 364, 367; refusal to return a verdict 631; terms denoting successful mediation 364 archaeological evidence, see s.v. material and iconographic evidence Areiopagos, constitutional status of: how to address 88, 281, 308, 364, 512; charter-myth 45; as council and as lawcourt 45, 611; as location for ste¯le¯ 126, 127; under Thirty tyrants 128; unique prestige 309, 534, 618 Areiopagos, as lawcourt: constitutional jurisdiction 128, 579; homicide jurisdiction 46, 638, 639; authority over other homicide courts 126, 452; extent of juristic thinking 338; trauma ek pronoias cases 281; jurisdiction in religious matters 145, 388, 484; supervision of sacred olives 531 Areiopagos, membership of: lifelong expertise 134, 282, 331, 338, 487; numbers 46, 282; whether it included current Arkhons 529 Areiopagos, procedures of (see also s.v. dio¯mosia and s.v. relevance): opponent’s lamentable ignorance of rules 636; rule against irrelevance 16, 282, 340, 345, 536, 540, 605; two rounds of speeches in homicide cases 484, 528 Areiopagos, as topographical marker 98 Arginousai, battle of (406 bc) 152, 586, 638; trial of Generals 465 Argos: mythological 156, 221, 223; interchangeability with Mycenae 224; neutrality during Persian invasion (480–479 bc) 237; alliance with Athens (395–387 bc) 219 Aristotelian rhetorical ﬁgures, see s.v. rhetorical ﬁgures Arkhon (most senior of the Nine Arkhons) 583, 612; presiding over family law 271; presiding over selection of festival judges 369, 371; rôle in levying Panathenaic oil 483; conducting public sacriﬁce to Zeus So¯te¯r 443; protected against insult when crowned 612; prospect of opponent’s becoming 442; individual holders of the ofﬁce 4, 14, 520, 625, 667 arkho¯n, arkhontes, signifying any ofﬁcial (not speciﬁcally one of Nine Arkhons) 395, 583, 587, 611

General Index Artemision, battle of (480 bc) 162, 229, 237–8, 239, 246, 247 Asianism, see s.v. Atticism Assembly (see also s.v. He¯liaia): Gk. terms used to denote 620; attendance and right to speak 320, 466, 690; those speaking 576, 619, 662, 663, 693; challenges to those disqualiﬁed 278, 628, 660, 664 (see also s.v. dokimasia of orators); debate, deliberations, decisions 18, 258, 264, 446, 451, 462, 617; procedures and conduct of meetings 120, 459, 585, 617, 677; jurisdiction in eisangelia 620, 660; rôle in 411 bc coup 146, 678 associations, private religious 547, 614 astu (urban area of Athens): ‘those from/[who remained] in the astu’ 17, 464 atimia (loss of civic rights), imposed as penalty for the following: failure to maintain elderly parents 270; false witness 629, 687–8; improper arbitration 370; insults to public ofﬁcials 592, 612; military cowardice or refusal of call-up 342, 592, 628, 686; refusal to divorce adulterous wife 48; unpaid debt to the state 664, 688; language of atimia used of impact of Isotimides’ decree on Andokides 458; language of atima avoided in trial of Timarkhos 687; Andokides’ extended legal analysis 635; comparable penalties for woman caught with moikhos 48; described as ‘disaster’ 689 Atticism: and Asianism, as rhetorical slogans 32, 552, 627; support for Athenian imperialism 7, 12, 15 auctions, public, see s.v. Po¯le¯tai and s.v. taxfarming audience, secondary 31, 276, 404, 542–4 authorship and authenticity: ancient discussions of 26–8, 477–8, 582–3, 626–7; modern discussions of 27–8, 30, 39–40, and see also the introductions to the various speeches; authenticity of occasion vis-à-vis authenticity of authorship 30, 31, 40, 541–2 autochthony 216, 226–9 baby, care and upbringing of 98–9, 100, 122 banks, banking, bankers 31, 32, 577; as locations for gossip or philosophical discussion 610–11; use of slaves in 522

773

Basileus (second of the Nine Arkhons): jurisdiction over religious matters 145, 442; presiding over homicide trials 45, 126, 282, 309; presiding over impiety cases 449, 529; rôle in cult of Eleusinian Mysteries 442–3, 589; repudiating his Paredros (assessor) 612; selection and appointment 442; Stoa of the Basileus, as location for ste¯le¯ 126; under oligarchy of 404/3 bc 520 battles and campaigns, see s.vv. Aigospotamoi, Arginousai, Artemision, Drabsekos, Egyptian Expedition, Eurymedon, Geraneia, Great Harbour, Haliartos, Khaironeia, Knidos, Koroneia, Lamia, Lekhaion, Marathon, Mounykhia, Nemea River, Oinophyta, Phyle, Plataia, Salamis, Sicilian Expedition, Tanagra, Thermopylae be¯ma (speaker’s platform), in Assembly or Boule¯ or lawcourt 677 Boiotia, Boiotians, see Koroneia and Thebes booty: dedication of, in sanctuaries 692 Boule¯ (see also s.vv. Bouleute¯rion, Bouleute¯s, Prytaneis): alleged oligarchic sympathies of, in 405/4 593; conduct of meetings 120; conﬁdential discussions 662, 665; honoriﬁc decree for 689; powers 451, 613; religious responsibilities 442, 443; rôle in dokimasia of ephebes 694; rôle in implementation of laws 676; rôle in organising festivals 369, 371, 443 bouleusis (‘planning’, in contexts of homicide) 638 Bouleute¯rion (see also s.vv. Boule¯, Bouleute¯s): be¯ma (speaker’s platform) in 677; location for inscriptions 447 Bouleute¯s, Bouleutai (see also s.vv. Boule¯, Bouleute¯rion): and Eng. ‘Councillor’ viii; arguments at dokimasia of 442, 466; individuals possibly to be identiﬁed as 462, 474 burial, see also s.v. funeral rites; denial of 130, 219–20, 381 bystanders: rôle of, in the regulation of conﬂict 286, 315, 319, 320, 321, 335, 487 call-up, of troops, see s.v. atimia and s.v. Generals capital punishment, euphemisms for 219, 338, 394. See also s.v. apotumpanismos characterisation 3; ancient analyses of 33, 100; in particular speeches 49–54, 100, 102, 284, 383, 480, 636; modern studies

774

General Index

characterisation (Contd.) 33, 37, 51, 284, 625; of women 52–3, 102; use of venial ﬂaws 51, 284, 373 children (see also s.v. age of moral responsibility, s.v. funeral rites: burial of children by parents, and s.v. orphans): abduction of 674; childbirth, rituals associated with 122; paternity of 45, 48, 94, 134 citizenship: euphemisms for execution of citizens 52, 121; ideologically linked to land 228, 520; see also s.v. apragmosune¯, s.v. atimia, s.v. naturalisation, and s.v. Thourioi commentary, aims of present 38–41 contract, contracts: for sexual services 326; tax-farming 465, 485; wet-nursing, from Egypt 99 Corinth, battle at (394 bc), see s.v. Nemea River Corinth, Corinthians: absence from epitaphic mythological canon 213; in title of Lysianic epitaphios 152, 163; Isthmus of Corinth 239, 246; Neaira at Corinth 366 Corinthian War (395–387 bc) 152, 159, 211, 260, 263, 690; lack of impact on Athenian agriculture 481; Persian ﬁnancial support 259; see also s.vv. battles (Haliartos, Knidos, Koroneia, Lekhaion, Nemea River), and s.vv. Athens’ allies (Argos, Corinth, Thebes) cosmetics 106 countryside, in contrast with Athens or Peiraieus 57; see also s.vv. citizenship, farming, land cursing, rituals of public 472 Cyprus, island of 444, 459, 619. See also s.vv. Salamis, Kition Dadoukhos (ofﬁciating priest at Eleusinian Mysteries) 443, 471; post held by Kallias 402, 443; requirement to be member of genos Ke¯rukes 402 decrees, speciﬁc legal statutes (see also s.v. laws; and s.v. Solon, laws attributed to): annual honoriﬁc decree for Boule¯ 689; Aristokrates’ decree for Kharidemos 670; decree against Arthmios of Zeleia: 512; decree against Diagoras of Melos (c.415 bc) 453; decree of 401/0 bc honouring non-citizens who assisted in democratic restoration 14; decree of Theozotides 4, 215; Thrasyboulos’

abortive decree rewarding metics for assisting in democratic restoration 6; decree of Teisamenos (403/2 bc) 128; decree of Isotimides on impiety (c.415 bc) 146, 401, 407, 446, 447, 452, 453, 457, 458, 460, 466, 472–3; decree of Themistokles, purported (480 bc/3rd cent. bc) 241; decree of Hippokrates enfranchising Plataians (427 bc) 280–1; decree of Menippos granting immunity to Andokides (415 bc) 447; decree of Patrokleides restoring civic rights (405/4 bc) 458, 587; Megarian decree(s) 474; decree honouring assassins of Phrynikhos 515–16; Erythrai decree (c.450s bc) 620; decree of Syrakosios (c.414 bc) 663; cf. decrees of orgeo¯nes 614 defamation, see s.v. aporrhe¯ta, s.v. dike¯ kake¯gorias, s.v. Solon, and Index of Greek terms s.v. λοιδορ ω, λοιδορα dekarkhies (narrow oligarchies), Lysander’s 256, 259 Dekeleia (Athenian deme): 610; ‘house of Dekeleieis’, as putative phratry 610 Dekeleian/Ionian War (413–404 bc) 517; damage to Athenian agriculture 479, 481, 486; economic impact on Athens 482; Spartan fortiﬁed base at Dekeleia 514, 516, 519 Delphinion: as homicide court 44–6; how to address court 89; as sanctuary 45 demagogues: 619 deme, see also s.vv. Halimous, Oe, Peiraieus; as village community 57; sizes of rural demes 114; deme celebrations of Thesmophoria 114; membership hereditary in male line 59; membership of same deme 114, 473; relationship to Kleisthenic tribes, see s.v. phyle¯; rôle in dokimasia of ephebes 694 democracy: institutional changes after 403/2 bc 2, 146 democratic counter-revolution of 403 bc: identiﬁcation of audience with counterrevolutionaries 618, 667; in calculations of Arkhon-year 625, 667; in epitaphic narrative 260–6; anachronistic achievements of counter-revolutionaries 160, 263; praise for rôle of xenoi 162, 164; individual participants 402, 403; Lysias’ benefactions towards 5, 9, 14; rewards for metic counter-

General Index revolutionaries proposed abortively by Thrasyboulos 6, 15; rewards granted by decree of 401/0 bc 15; terminology used to denote counter-revolutionaries 17, 464; Theban support for counterrevolutionaries 469 denunciation, judicial, see s.v. apographe¯ and s.v. me¯nusis diadikasia (adjudication between rival claimants), in context of liturgy 324 diaite¯te¯s, see s.v. arbitrator, arbitration dikastai (judges/jurors in dikastic courts): and nomothetai 136, 473; authority of 136, 451; dikastic oath 694; how to address 88, 446, 620; in particular cases 388; prior knowledge of case: 543; vis-à-vis Areiopagos 331; vis-à-vis ephetai 46, 89 dikaste¯rion (dikastic court) 617, 680 dike¯: range of meanings including ‘justice’ and ‘penalty’ 125–6, 229, 525; see also Index of Greek terms s.v. δκη, for a more extensive but undifferentiated list of references dike¯ (private prosecution) 44, 324, 448, 673; and graphe¯ 283–4, 347, 449 dike¯ aikeias (for assault) 131, 282, 283, 377, 632 dike¯ antidoseo¯s (for exchange of property, arising from obligation to undertake liturgy) 20 dike¯ biaio¯n (for violence, often sexual) 20, 131 dike¯ blabe¯s (for damage) 130, 330, 377 dike¯ exoule¯s (a form of possession order) 20, 688 dike¯ kake¯gorias (for defamation) 20, 21, 545, 581, 593, 629, 632, 633, 663, 673, 677 dike¯ khreo¯s (for debt) 330 dike¯ klope¯s (for theft) 284 dike¯ parakatathe¯ke¯s (for repayment of deposit) 20, 24, 31, 579 dike¯ phonou (for homicide) 16, 22, 43, 528, 622, 639 dike¯ pseudomarturio¯n (for false witness) 622, 687 dike¯ [or graphe¯] traumatos ek pronoias (for wounding with intent) 283–4, 452, 632 dio¯mosia (oath of litigants and witnesses in homicide cases) 282, 310, 347, 370–1, 675 (Great) Dionysia, festival of 324, 351–3, 367, 370 direct and indirect speech, attributed to characters in speeches 52–53, 102, 108 documents, public, cited in speeches 4, 126

775

dokimasia (judicial scrutiny) 462, 664, 694; for invalidity pension 23; of cavalry 694; of ephebes 694; of orators 630, 634, 660, 662–3, 694; epangelia and dokimasia of orators 569, 628; penalty at dokimasia of orators 687; of public ofﬁcials 23, 37, 462, 466, 620, 694; characterisation in 625; use of dokimasia of public ofﬁcials, in period 403–380 bc 2, 462 Drabeskos, campaign at (c.465 bc): burial of war-dead 150 drinking, drunkenness 103–4, 144–5; and ataxia 316, 322–3; and inappropriate behaviour 313, 323, 339; and the symposiastic ko¯mos 351, 373, 593; and violence 275, 322, 374; daytime drunkenness 319 Egyptian Expedition (450s bc) 251 eisangelia (impeachment): as judicial process 22, 605, 664; jurisdiction of Assembly 620, 660; eisangelia kako¯seo¯s orphano¯n (for maltreatment of orphans), and its relationship to graphe¯ 663 eisphora (war-tax) 328, 344, 480 ekhinos (jar for sealing evidence following arbitration) 631 ekke¯ruxis (‘exclusion by herald’s proclamation’), as military discipline 342 Eleusinian Mysteries 400, 442, 548, 570–1, see also s.v. Mysteries, profanation of; clauses in Amnesty of 403/2 bc 467; initiation of slaves 402; sacred truce 569; terminology for private funding of initiation 402 Eleusinion (temple of Eleusinian cult, at Athens) 442 Eleusis: as refuge for oligarchic partisans (403–401 bc) 13–14, 467; forcible reincorporation into Athenian state (401/0 bc) 156, 410, 640; mythological 157, 221 Eleven, the (public ofﬁcials in charge of prisons and executions) 612, 674, 681; presiding over apago¯ge¯, and summary execution of those who admit guilt 52, 119, 124, 452; presiding over apographe¯ 590; refusal to accept apago¯ge¯ 681; alleged execution of whole board for malpractice 681 elision, see s.v. hiatus empire, see s.v. imperialism, 5th-cent. Athenian endeixis, see s.v. apago¯ge¯ enkte¯sis (right to own land) 15, 515–16

776

General Index

enmity, personal: as motive for litigation 92, 109, 379, 528, 539, 585, 616; denial of enmity 92, 616; as publicly avowed and continuing relationship 336, 349; and reconciliation 349, 365–66 ephebes, ephe¯beia (compulsory military service of young Athenians): 120, 548; see also s.v. dokimasia ephe¯ge¯sis, see s.v. apago¯ge¯ ephetai (judges in majority of homicide courts) 45–6, 89, 134, 309 epibole¯ (summary ﬁne) 531, 589, 591, 606, 609, 612, 613, 617, 621, 622 epikle¯ros (traditionally ‘heiress’, but see p.271 n.84) 24, 271, 637 Epimele¯tai (assistants to Basileus in organising Eleusinian Mysteries) 443 episke¯psis (formal undertaking to initiate legal proceedings) 336 epitomes, interpretation of particular speeches as 23, 40, 350, 403, 541, 640 Eretria, Persian sack of (490 bc) 155, 230, 232 Eumolpidai, see s.vv. genos, exe¯ge¯te¯s Eurymedon, battles of (c.466 bc) 156, 250 euthunai (accounts of public ofﬁcials): accusations at 589, 681; failure to undergo 588, 589, 613, 617; linguistic usages 528; metics’ capacity to bring charges 16; of former oligarchic ofﬁcials 13, 16, 639 Euthunoi (public ofﬁcials presiding at euthunai) 614 exe¯ge¯te¯s, exe¯ge¯tai (expounder or interpreter): Eumolpid exegesis and Eleusinian Mysteries 402, 443, 448, 474; of homicide law 378 extradition 223, 453 face, injuries to 316 family, see s.v. household, and Index of Greek terms s.v. οjκο farming, farmers, see also s.v. agriculture and s.v. land; debate over extent of slavery in Athenian farming 527; ‘farmer’ used to describe non-citizens, including slaves 522; farm buildings, equipment and stock 142, 365, 547; farming and ideology of citizenship 516, 520; patterns of residence 57, 58, 533; problems of the translation ‘farm’ 515; removal of obstacles to efﬁcient farming 486; terms of tenancy 521; ‘working’ vis-à-vis ‘gentlemen’ farmers 57, 480

fences, see s.v. agriculture feuding, see s.v. honour-codes and feuding, debate over Forty, the (public ofﬁcials presiding over private cases) 630 Four Hundred, the (411 bc) 1, 401, 458; constitutional coup 146, 264, 547, 678; leaders of 481, 514, 515; political propaganda and the patrios politeia 637, 678 friends: rôle in private arbitration 364–5, 367, 371; ethics of friendship 441, 445, 460, 619, 623; repudiation of friendship 571; as supporters in litigation 118, 141, 394, 473, 575–6, 579 fulling (as manufacturing process) fullers: 320–21 funeral rites: private funerals 95–6; public funeral of war-dead 149–50; corpus of funeral speeches 150–3; burial of children by parents 270; mourning, rituals of 96, 106, 160, 260; terminology 95, 210, 219 General (strate¯gos), Generals, powers and responsibilities of: denoted by term ‘arkho¯n’ 583; rôle in military enlistment 581–2, 591–2; strate¯geion (their ofﬁcial building) 583, 616; jurisdiction and disciplinary powers 342, 583, 589, 606–7, 609; individual acting on behalf of board 608; relations with other ofﬁcials 341, 588, 613, 620; euthunai of 588, 617; as ‘enemies of the people’ 621; prosecution of former colleague by individual General 258; ofﬁcials of other Greek communities 245, 445 General (strate¯gos), Generals: individual holders of this ofﬁce: Andokides’ grandfather 404; Ergokles (in Lys. 28–29) 587; Generals at Aigospotamoi (405 bc) 465; Ktesikles (in Lys. 9) 586, 611; Myronides at Geraneia (c.458 bc) 252; Themistokles at Salamis (480 bc) 245; various individuals named Leon 638; speaker’s opponents (in Lys. 9) 585, 589–90, 607, 609, 613; father of speaker (Lys. 10) 372, 637, 638; Generals during Peloponnesian War 341; Generals at Arginousai (406 bc) 152, 638; Generals at Aigospotamoi (405 bc) 160, 258, 469; Generals during Corinthian War 340; modern prosopographical studies 583

General Index genos (ﬁctive descent-group linked to a cult-priesthood) 22; Eumolpidai and Ke¯rukes 402, 440, 441, 448, 462, 472, 474; debate over Andokides’ membership of Ke¯rukes 402 Geraneia campaign (c.458 bc) 156, 230, 249–53 gno¯me¯ (moralising generalisation), use of 123, 536 gossip, as means of social control 108, 526 grain, importing of, see s.v. maritime trade graphe¯ (public prosecution): and dike¯ 283–4, 347, 449; and eisangelia 663; normally brought by injured party 535; penalty for discontinuing 450 graphe¯ adiko¯s heirkhthe¯nai (for unlawful arrest) 147 graphe¯ argias (for ‘idleness’) 24, 635 graphe¯ asebeias (for impiety) 22, 449, 450 graphe¯ astrateias (for failure to undertake military service) 342, 592, 621 graphe¯ deilias (for cowardice) 628, 662 graphe¯ do¯roxenias (re-trial of person acquitted in graphe¯ xenias) 622 graphe¯ hierosulias (for temple-robbery) 388 graphe¯ hubreo¯s (for hubris) 91, 133, 282; could lead to death-penalty 131 graphe¯ kako¯seo¯s orphano¯n (for maltreatment of orphans) 663 graphe¯ klope¯s (for theft) 284 graphe¯ lipotaxiou (for military desertion) 23 graphe¯ paranomo¯n (against unconstitutional proposal) 25, 146, 312; abolition of, in 411 bc coup 146; formal notice of intention to prosecute 14; individual cases 4, 6, 15, 22; time-limit for liability of proposer 526 graphe¯ [or dike¯] traumatos ek pronoias (for wounding with intent) 283–4, 452, 632 graphe¯ sukophantias (for sykophancy) 380 graphe¯ xenias (for falsely claiming citizenship) 20, 622 Great Dionysia, see s.v. Dionysia Great Harbour (at Syracuse), battle in the (413 bc) 162, 242, 243 guardian, of orphans 222, 326, 579, 668 Haliartos, battle of (415 bc) 266 Halimous (Athenian deme) 114 hapaxes, as index of authorship 28, 550–1, 584, 625–6 harmosts (Spartan garrison commanders) 259

777

hearth: absence from archaeological record 54–5, 122; religious and conceptual signiﬁcance 117, 122–3 He¯liaia, origins of term 680 Hellenotamiai (treasurers of 5th-cent. Athenian empire) 587 Herms, mutilation of (415 bc) 11, 400–1, 441, 444, 449, 452, 453, 458; anatomy of mutilation 453; herm, ancestral 404, 449; inferred intentions of those involved 400 Herms, street of the 610 hero-cult 149, 150, 212, 222, 225, 268, 614 hiatus, avoidance of, as index of authorship 28, 549–50 Hierophante¯s (ofﬁciating priest at Eleusinian Mysteries) 440, 471; relationship to speaker of Lys. 6: 440, 443, 474; requirement to be member of genos Eumolpidai 402; selection and appointment 474 historical texts, use of speeches as 4–5 homestead farms, see s.v. farming, farmers: patterns of residence honour-codes and feuding, debate over 51, 338 hoplites: brigaded in tribes 153, 340, 608, 690, see also Taxiarkh; economic status of 279, 533; failing to retain one’s shield 663; individuals serving as 276, 341, 468, 540; signiﬁcance in epitaphioi 150, 216, 234 horse: as luxury item rather than agricultural labour power 547; as security for loan 573; prices attested 574 house, architecture of: absence of front garden 54; detached latrine: 99; doors and external entrances 9, 54, 111, 313; ﬂexibility of internal allocation of space 98, 122, 313; two ﬂoors 97–8 house, transgressive entry into 92, 313, 351, 371–2 household, extinction of 461, 540 household jurisdiction, Paoli’s theory of 47, 48–9 housekeeper, wife as thrifty 95 house-search, for stolen goods 115, 682 humour in Attic orators, rarity of 580 hyperatticisation, as dating criterion 551, 552 iconography, see s.v. material and iconographic evidence imperialism: 5th-cent. Athenian 1, 162, 217, 230, 234, 241, 249, 253–7, see also s.v.

778

General Index

imperialism (Contd.) Atticism; transgressive imperialism of Amazons 216 impiety, see Lys. 5–7 passim; see also s.v. hearth, and s.v. pollution indirect speech, see s.v. direct and indirect speech insanity, madness, predicated of opponent: regarded as exacerbating rather than mitigating factor 315 Isokrates, as Lysias’ competitor 11, 31 isolation: heroic, predicated of Athenians in epitaphioi 155, 214, 231, 234, 245, 250, 261; negative connotations of isolation in forensic speeches 666 isotele¯s (metic exempted from the metoikion), isoteleia 14–16 kakourgos, kakourgoi (malefactor) 124, 136, 674 Kallias, (putative) Peace of, see s.v. Peace of Kallias Kekropis (Kleisthenic tribe) 276 Ke¯rukes, see s.v. genos Ke¯ryx (herald of Eleusinian Mysteries): requirement to be member of genos Ke¯rukes 402 Khaironeia, battle of (338 bc) 163, 164; readiness of Orators to name 468; war-dead of 151, 152 kheirotonia (vote taken as in Assembly by show of hands) 617 khore¯gia (funding of chorus), Khore¯gos 6, 343, 352, 480: as putatively representing the polis 592, 612; avoidance and philotimia 324, 343, 536; khore¯gic monuments 629, 692; nomination of 352; relations with festival judges 368, 371; see also s.vv. liturgy, trierarkhy kho¯ris oiko¯n (slave working for hire) 280 King’s Peace, see s.v. Peace of Antalkidas/ King’s Peace Kition, in Cyprus 444, 458 kle¯te¯r, pl. kle¯te¯res (summons-witness) 327 Knidos, battle of (394 bc) 164, 256, 257, 263, 317, 484; and rebuilding of Long Walls 160; negative portrayal in Lysianic epitaphios 159–60, 258–9 knife: ban against use on convicted adulterer 121, 142, 147–8; see also s.v. weapons, formal Koroneia, battle of (394 bc) 266, 276, 340–1

Lamia, siege of (323–322 bc): war-dead of 151, 161 landholding by rich Athenians: patchwork rather than consolidated 480, 533; rental market in land: 481–2; size of individual pieces of land: 515, 532–3 laws cited within speeches 124, 126, 130 law, erasing of 146–7 law of evidence 378 law: its inability to cover all situations 135 law, international 223 law, of other Greek states 89–90, 135 law, religious 448, 479 law, rule of, in Athenian rhetoric 135, 147, 229 laws of Solon, see s.v. Solon, laws attributed to law, written and unwritten 447 laws, speciﬁc legal statutes: Drakon’s homicide law, as republished in 409/8 bc 44, 126, 283; Eleusinian Mysteries law 443, 589; laws of Ephialtes and Arkhestratos, on powers of Areiopagos 128; nomos moikheias (law on adultery) 47–8; law regulating moriai (sacred olives) 483; law of prothesmia (statutory time-limit on prosecutions) 526. See also s.v. decrees; and s.v. Solon, laws attributed to. (Legislation that is inferred rather than directly documented can normally be traced through the topic or procedure that it deals with.) legal reform, see s.v. revision of laws, in period 410–400 bc Lekhaion, battle of (390 bc) 163 lexicographers, ancient. See Index Locorum s.vv. Harpokration, Souda, etc. liturgy (compulsory public service imposed on rich) 343–5; liability, cost and frequency 344; habits and procedures of avoidance 323–24, 343; patterns of citation within the corpus, catalogued 344–5; see also s.vv. khore¯gia, trierarkhy, and Index of Greek terms s.v. φιλοτιµα Logistai (public ofﬁcials presiding at euthunai) 614 logographos (speech-writer), logography: Dover’s interpretation 3, 28–9; level of fee unknown 3; Lysias’ career as logographer 3, 5, 13, 14; possible rôle of logographer in preparation of case 350, 636; putative professional ethics 17 Long Walls: building of (470s bc) 14, 263; destruction of (405/4 bc) 258;

General Index rebuilding of (395/4–392/1 bc) 14, 160, 263 lost speeches, see s.v. speeches, preservation and loss Lysias: biography and family 7, 5–10, 11, 12; chronological problems 10, 12; political views of Lysias 16–17; ‘richest of the metics’ 5, 13; tendentiousness of autobiographical statements 11; range of literary output 2, 4, 9; ancient literary evaluations 9, 11, 32–4; manuscript tradition 1, 18–24, 56, 95, 545, 552; impact of papyrus discoveries 20, 24, 25; modern reception 34–7 Macedonia 444 madness, see s.v. insanity Marathon, battle of (490 bc) 155, 162, 212, 229, 230–4, 247; Athenian isolation: at 216, 223, 233, 239, 246, 247, 248, 249; burial of war-dead on battleﬁeld 150; ﬁrst to stand against barbarians 216; miraculous appearances at 243; relative status of Persian War battles 156, 222, 234, 238–9, 245; victors, special status of 215, 231, 234, 244; see also s.v. Plataia, Plataians: enfranchisement maritime trade, traders, loans, cases 24, 470, 573, 575, 605; grain, importing of 31, 402, 444, 459, 470, 483 marriage: and moikheia 47–8; rituals associated with 122; rôle of bride’s male kin 47, 93, 95, 128; virilocal and uxorilocal 94, 314 material and iconographic evidence 54, 58, 99, 100, 273, 533; see also s.v. hearth, and s.v. house, architecture of meals, dining 101, 117, 315 me¯nusis (judicial denunciation): by slave, in return for freedom 388–9, 456, 525, 526; consequences of false denunciation 396–7; in religious but probably not political cases 389; used also of citizen 451 metics, Lysias and family as 3, 7; unusual wealth and prominence 5, 12, 15; conﬁscation of property by Thirty 5, 13, 668; issues of status within the corpus 23, 31, 156, 163, 265, 344, 385 metic, metics: and apragmosune¯ 16; and the metoikion (metic tax) 15; leasing the right to collect taxes 387; legal capacity of 13, 16, 385; liability to liturgies other

779

than trierarkhy 343, 344; liability to military service 149, 266 metre, metrical fragments, in Lysias’ prose style 33, 108, 549; Blass’ law 548 Me¯tro¯on (temple of mother of gods), used after 403 bc to store state documents 126, 147 mill, milling (as manufacturing process), mill-owners 58, 112–13, 674 Mounykhia, battle at (403 bc) 15, 261, 262, 265; rewards for non-citizens who fought on democratic side 14, 266 mourning, see s.v. funeral rites Mysteries, profanation of (415 bc) 11, 400–1; inferred intentions of those involved 400–1; nature of profanation 451–2, 453; see also s.v. Eleusinian Mysteries Mysteries, of 400 bc 399, 401, 406 narrative, as focus of this commentary 38 narrative as historical evidence, use of, see s.v. reading against the grain narrative, in forensic speeches: ancient assessments of 33, 34; as conventional division of speech 52, 88 (for the relationship between narrative and argument, see subheadings s.v. repetition and recapitulation and s.v. vividness and credibility); as vehicle for characterisation 50–1, 284; clarity 119, 277, 318, 542–3, 544, 568, 584; gender 53, 103; narrator and actor 51, 93, 105, 113; pace and timing 52, 100, 111, 311; repetition and recapitulation 101, 110, 125, 136–7, 327, 330, 335; selection and omission 52, 109, 121, 142, 148, 285, 330, 331; vividness and credibility 52, 118, 275, 277, 285 narrative, epitaphic versions of Athens’ past: myth and history 212, 214, 227; heroic isolation as justiﬁcation of imperialism 214, 234, 245, 249, 250; suppression of the heroic individual 213, 217, 222, 226, 228; selectivity and periodisation 230, 249, 253, 254; subversion of Lysias by Plato 155 naturalisation 279, 280, 459, 516, 586, 615; abortive citizenship grant of 403/2 bc 4, 6, 9, 13 neighbour, neighbours: acting in support 314; proximity of, in countryside 532; tensions between 526–7, 534; see also s.v. gossip

780

General Index

Nemea River, battle of (394 bc): 163, 164, 266–7, 340–1, 690 Nine Arkhons and membership of Areiopagos 45, 282; as witnesses of impiety 529; prospect of opponent’s becoming one 442; protection against hubris when crowned 593; selection and appointment 442; see also s.vv. Arkhon, Basileus, Polemarkh, Thesmothetai nomothesia (process of passing laws, after 403/2 bc) 146, 446, 472 oath: dikastic 135, 579, 687, 694; in law attributed to Solon 681; judicial, sworn by woman 45, 115; of public ofﬁcials 592, 620; see also s.v. anto¯mosia, s.v. dio¯mosia, and Index of Greek terms s.v. 9ρκοι κα συνθ8και Oe (Athenian deme) 57, 114; location 109 Oineis (Kleisthenic tribe) 59, 109 Oinophyta, battle of (c.457 bc) 156, 249 oligarchic revolutions, see s.v. Four Hundred and s.v. Thirty olive trees: in Athenian religion and Athenian agriculture 482; logistics of destruction 486, 518; taxation of 483–4 Olynthos: enslavement by Philip of Macedon 374; evidence of housing 313 orphans 260, 313–14, 315, 668; legal protection for 144, 271; public maintenance for war-orphans 215, 269, 273 Palladion (homicide court) 45, 46, 638; how to address 88 (Great) Panathenaia, festival of 482 paragraphe¯ (counter-indictment, alleging unlawful prosecution) 24, 329, 621 Paredros (assessor to one of the Nine Arkhons) 467, 612 Peace of Antalkidas/King’s Peace (387 bc) 152, 260; and composition-date of Lysianic epitaphios 154, 157, 164, 250, 259; contrast in Athenian propaganda with Peace of Kallias 256; debate over Spartans as prostatai 257, 260 Peace of Kallias, putative (? c.449 bc): 162, 255–6, 619 Peiraieus: as commercial centre 318, 611; as deme 114; as residential centre 13, 54; as topographical marker 276, 318; as urban centre 57; location of gravestone 516; rôle in democratic restoration of 403/2

bc 6, 13, 14, 15, 261, 262, 265, 266; ‘those from/at Peiraieus’ 17, 464 Peloponnesian War, ‘First’ (c.460–446 bc) 155, 250 Peloponnesian War, ‘the’ (431–404 bc) 1, 399; Arkhidamian War (431–422 bc) 518; blame for Athens’ defeat 264, 265; causes and outbreak 250, 254, 267, 614; in epitaphic narrative 156, 230, 249–57; representations of Athens’ opponents 213, 225, 250; Spartan monopolisation of spoils of victory 267; terminology of Athenian surrender 517; war proﬁteering and demand for shields 13, 31; see also s.v. Dekeleian/Ionian War, and s.vv. the various battles and campaigns Perikles, pattern of reference to, in the Orators 447 Persian Wars, see s.vv. the various battles persona 3, 626, 636. See also s.v. narrative: in forensic speeches phialai exeleutherikai (slave manumission) inscriptions 366, 378, 521 phratry (ﬁctive descent-group to which all Athenians apparently belonged) 610–11 Phreatto (homicide court) 45, 46, 639–40 Phyle: battle at (403 bc) 15, 262, 265; rewards for non-citizens who fought on democratic side 266; ‘those from/at Phyle’ 14, 17, 261, 265, 403, 464, 667 phyle¯ (Kleisthenic tribe): allocation to tribes in naturalisation proceedings 280; tribes and allocation of Nine Arkhonships 442; tribes and festival judging 351–2, 368, 371; membership of same tribe 59, 352, 370, 608, 609, 690; relationship of tribes to demes 59; tribal dedication of herm 404, 449; tribal organisation of hoplite army 149, 340, 341, 591, 608 pity: pattern of reference in Lysias 687, 690; predicated of gods 244; requires suffering to be undeserved 345, 475 Plataia, battle of (479 bc) 153, 229, 241, 246–9; burial of war-dead 150 Plataia, Plataians: help given at Marathon (480 bc) 232; rôle attributed in Plataia campaign (479 bc) 246; Theban attack on Plataia (431 bc) 341; sack of Plataia (427 bc) 279; enfranchisement of Plataians (427–386 bc) 279, 280–1; Plataian expatriate community at Athens 610–11; individual Plataians 279; restoration of Plataia (386 bc)

General Index 280; see also s.v. Marathon: Athenian isolation at Platonic dialogues: anachronism and dramatic dates 5, 10, 11, 152 poetic vocabulary 409, 440, 460, 470, 672 Polemarkh (third of the Nine Arkhons): presiding over family law of metics and some military matters 273 Po¯le¯tai (ofﬁcials in charge of public auctions) 519, 533, 590, 591 policing, in a society without police 285, 319, 320 pollution, religious 145, 148, 219, 442 post-trial additions to speech, see s.v. revision of speeches poverty and wealth 58, 240, 480; acquisition of sudden wealth 92; attacks on opponent’s poverty 98, 661; attacks on opponent’s wealth 279; Christian association of poverty with virtue 524; link between wealth and hubris 137; poverty as embarrassment 98, 524; see also s.vv. eisphora, liturgies Praktores (‘exacters’: public ofﬁcials receiving moneys owed to treasury) 587, 589, 590, 612, 613, 614, 617, 618, 621, 622; in Eleusinian Mysteries law 589 procuring, see s.v. prostitution prodikasiai (preliminary hearings in homicide cases) 282 proﬁt (kerdos): as motive for offence 524, 530; as motive for prosecution 528, 539; as hypothetical motive for jury to acquit 687 prokle¯sis (challenge to torture slaves for evidence), see s.v. torture proof, terminology used to denote 382 prostate¯s (a metic’s legal ‘guardian’) 13, 16, 385, 394 prostitution: amounts paid to prostitutes 326; connotations of terminology 104, 129, 328–9, 375, 622, 684; female prostitution incompatible with moikheia: 47, 683–4, 685; male prostitution and loss of civic rights 279, 326, 634, 662; lifelong implications for former male prostitutes 278; oratory as prostitution 156; procuring of prostitutes: 326; procuring of citizen minor, illegal 278, 281; slave as prostitute 334, 375 prothesmia (statutory time-limit on prosecutions) 336, 526 Prytaneion (homicide court) 45 Prytaneis (executive committee of the Boule¯) 443, 459

781

pse¯phos (vote taken by secret ballot, as in lawcourt) 589, 617 punishment, exemplary rather than rehabilitative function of 465 rape: in Athenian law 49, 130–4, 683; in law of Gortyn 132; of Amazon by Theseus 213, 216 reading against the grain 4, 55, 100, 103, 314 reform, legal: see s.v. revision of laws, in period 410–400 bc relevance, rules enforcing, in Areiopagos and elsewhere 605; see also s.v. Areiopagos: procedural rules repetition, see s.v. narrative: repetition and recapitulation revision of laws, in period 410–400 bc 146, 447, 464, 677–8; see also s.v. laws (speciﬁc legal statutes): Drakon; and s.v. nomothesia revision of speeches, post-trial 31, 56, 403, 406, 408, 440, 454 rhetoric: as manipulation of weighted or ambiguous language 38; rôle of, in ancient education 4 rhetorical exercise 14, 23, 30, 57, 152, 350, 351, 403–4, 541, 542, 581 rhetorical ﬁgures: collection of Aristotelian 38; deployment in particular speeches 52, 88, 636; as criterion for determining authorship 550 Salamis, battle of (480 bc) 215, 229, 240, 245, 246; alleged Athenian isolation at 216; Aristotle on war-dead of 161, 162; miraculous appearances at 243; morale and psychology 162, 164, 246; numbers involved 235, 240, 245, 247; relative status of Persian War battles 156, 222, 234, 238–39, 245; rôle played by Corinthians 250; Themistokles’ tactics at 156, 242 Salamis, in Cyprus 405, 444, 459 Salamis, island of 241, 637 Sardis, Athens’ participation in sack of (498 bc) 155, 214, 230, 231, 232 security for loans: substitutive vis-à-vis collateral 573 sexual activity 55: assumptions about female sexuality 94; one-sided duty of sexual ﬁdelity 103; see also s.v. prostitution, s.v. slaves, sexual exploitation of, and s.v. contract for sexual services

782

General Index

shops, shopping: fuller’s shop of Molon 276, 320–1; location of shops 57; shop as source of torches 118; shopping done by Euphiletos or by female slave 58–9, 97, 111; shops as venues for gossip 610; see also s.v. banks show-trials 2 Sicilian Expedition (415–413 bc) 7, 257, 399, 400, 608. See also s.v. Great Harbour, battle in the Sicily, Dionysios I’s control of 6, 445 ske¯psis (legal procedure claiming to be exempt from a liturgy) 323 slaves, slavery: debate over extent of use in Athenian agriculture 527; joint ownership of slaves 349, 366, 378, 522; manumission 378 (see also s.v. phialai exeleutherikai inscriptions); as political metaphor 217, 240, 254, 261; slave as sex-object 104, 105, 348, 366; terminology used to denote slaves 141–2, 333, 525; see also s.v. kho¯ris oiko¯n, s.v. me¯nusis, and s.v. torture Solon, laws attributed to, general issues: cited for archaic terminology 636, 677; found predominantly in later orators 448, 637, 677–8; intention of legislator 135, 337, 448, 671; (un)reliability of evidence 593, 637 Solon, laws attributed to, speciﬁc statutes: on defamation 593, 616, 633, 664; on olives 482; penalty for raping a free woman 132; relating to Eleusinian festival 443 Sparta, Spartans: and Amnesty of 403/2 bc 407, 451, 464; attitude to law 89, 135, 229, 233; mythological Spartans 224, 228; place of honour or leadership in battle 153, 237; religious sensibilities of 484, 517–18; tombs of those killed in battle at Mounykia 262–3; treatment of allies after 404 bc 267; see also s.vv. Corinthian War, harmosts, Knidos, Lekhaion, Peloponnesian War, Plataia, Thermopylae specialisation, by orators 3 speech, direct and indirect, see s.v. direct and indirect speech speeches: ancient rhetorical theorists’ attribution of authorship 7, 26; their classiﬁcation of speeches (forensic and non-forensic) 1, 3, see also s.v. rhetorical exercise; their views on fourfold structure

(proem, etc.) 33, 349, 666; autobiographical speeches 5, 6, 9; length of particular speeches 18, 386, 408; preservation and loss of speeches 4, 5; use of lost speeches by ancient authors 6, 11, 18, 626; reconstructing the opponents’ case 4, 50, 122, 349; known and unknown results of speeches 4, 46, 401, 639; speeches which can be ﬁrmly dated 1, 158, 625; see also s.v. Lysias: manuscript tradition, and s.v. revision of speeches stasis (civil strife), see Index of Greek terms s.v. στα´σι stupidity, predicated of opposing litigant 672 stylometric analysis of speeches 28, 29–30, 479, 584 Sundikoi (public ofﬁcials dealing with conﬁscated property after 403/2 bc) 590 sune¯goros (supporting speaker) 31; implications of etymology 2; see also s.v. advocacy supplication, religious 113, 122–3, 225; suppliant’s branch 406, 460 surety (engue¯ and cognates), to guarantee appearance in court 456, 681–2 sykophant, see Index of Greek terms s.v. συκοφαντ ω, συκοφα´ντη symposion, symposiastic behaviour 98, 373, 610. See also Index of Greek terms s.v. κµο Syracuse: provenance of Lysias’ family 8; tyrannies at 6, 7, 444, 445, 608; see also Great Harbour, battle in the Tamiai (‘stewards’ or ‘treasurers’): 587, 589, 604, 613, 614, 617, 618, 621, 622; of Athene and the Other Gods: 587, 590 Tamias (treasurer) of the Stratiotic Fund: 587 Tanagra, battle of (c.457 bc) 156, 249 tax-farming, tax-farmers 461, 483–4, 487, 488, 513; implications for profane use of olives 484–5 Taxiarkh (tribal commander of hoplites): deputisation among 276; individual holders of this ofﬁce 276, 279, 609; relations with Generals 341, 608; rôle in military call-up 591 technology, invention of new: no claim to moral superiority 216 Ten, the (404/3 bc) 401, 467, 520, 639 textual emendation, and analysis of hiatus 549

General Index textual problems, extent of discussion in this commentary 38 textual problems, discussion of 95, 96, 109, 110, 115–16, 118, 131, 141, 210, 214, 234, 267–8, 322, 330–1, 336, 364, 365, 367, 373, 381, 449, 451, 455–6, 460–1, 470, 473, 512, 516, 517, 519, 520, 522, 524, 530, 531, 542, 544, 569–70, 571, 606, 607, 610, 614, 618, 622, 623, 629, 662–3, 665, 666, 671, 679, 682, 683, 684–5, 704 Thargelia, festival of 473 Thebes: alliance with Athens (395–387 bc) 219, 240; during Peloponnesian War (431–404 bc) 7; mythological 156, 218– 21, 227; support for Athenian counterrevolutionaries (403 bc) 469; support for Persian invasion (480–479 bc) 237, 248 Thermodon (homeland of Amazons), and Aristotelian gynaecology 215 Thermopylae, battle of (480 bc) 156, 162, 229, 237–8, 239, 247 Thesmophoria, festival of 57, 99, 113–14 Thesmothetai (six junior members of Nine Arkhons) 612, 630 Thirty, the (404/3 bc) 1, 11, 516; arrests and conﬁscations by 5, 12–13, 668; conﬁscation of property of 467; former supporters, e.g. as litigants 17, 262, 480, 488, 619; members of 5, 13, 59, 409, 638, 639; reign of terror 9, 16, 60, 90, 128, 342, 465, 637 Thourioi (Thurii) 12; Lysias’ citizenship at 7 time¯sis, time¯ma (assessment): used of penalty to be paid following conviction 125, 132, 133; used of property being valued in legal proceedings 328, 387, 680, 688; used of Andokides and his slave 456 torture, as basis for admitting evidence of slaves: procedure and terminology 109, 142, 334, 347, 375, 378, 456, see also s.v. me¯nusis (denunciation); challenge met by opponent’s counter-challenge 380; challenge not responded to 54, 107; challenge rejected by opponent 349,

783

375–81, 536–8, 540; rejected by speaker 113; no known cases in which challenge led to torture 376; rhetorical justiﬁcations and objections 380, 487, 537; rhetorical theorists’ classiﬁcation of evidence 382 torture imposed privately by slave-owners 109, 376 torture (hypothetical or actual) of those other than slaves 280, 333–4, 378, 459 trials, results of, see s.v. speeches: results tribe, Kleisthenic, see s.v. phyle¯ trierarkhy (funding of warship), Trierarkh 343, 480; as military service 468, 540; individuals 59, 309, 469, 480, 606; metics not eligible/liable to serve 344; ostentatious expenditure on repeated trierarkhies 344; relationship to Generals: 469, 609; syntrierarkhy 343, 469; see also s.vv. khore¯gia, liturgy, metic Troizen 241 trophy, trophies: erected after battle 230, 253, 262; see also s.v. booty veiling, of women 96 violence, acceptable levels of, in Athenian society 285–6, 310, 322, 338; see also s.v. policing vocative, use of: addressed to court 88, 281, 308, 446; absence of such address to court, 604; addressed to opponent 470, 528, 629, 636, 671 voice, grammatical, and gender 48, 53, 96 voice, of speaker 3, 30 weapon, use of pottery as informal 282–3, 330, 348, 351 weapons of Amazons, iron 216 weapons, formal: not normally carried by private citizens 51, 142, 285, 372 wet-nurse, wet-nursing 58, 98–9 widow, widows: in epitaphioi 269; legal protection for 144, 271; residence 314 women, attribution of direct speech to, see s.v. direct and indirect speech

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