Plausibility in The Greek Orators

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PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS
THOMAS A. SCHMITZ

WHEN TZVETAN TODOROV EDITED a special issue of the journal Com-
munications on vraisemblance (verisimilitude) in 1968, he described the
origin of the concept as follows (I paraphrase):
One day during the fifth century B.C., there was a trial in some Sicilian
city. Neither the plaintiff nor the defendant could produce witnesses or
any other form of evidence to corroborate their version of the events, so
they had to convince the judges by the sheer power of their arguments.
This was the day the principle of vraisemblance was discovered.
Todorov’s tongue–in–cheek explanation refers to a concept which in

Greek was called εκς. The word combines two aspects that modern
logic differentiates: the “objective” meaning of probability (what is
probable by the laws of nature) and the “subjective” meaning of plausi-
bility (what the addressee of a message considers plausible). Aristotle’s
use of the word shows that the Greek concept does not draw a sharp
distinction between these two elements.1 Their intricate connection be-
comes evident in, e.g., his Rhetoric (2.25 1402b14–16) where he defines
enthymemes. They are drawn from probability, he explains, when they
are based upon things which occur regularly or are perceived to occur
regularly (στι δ τ µν κ τν ς π τ πολ ντων δοκοντων
συνηγµ να νθυµ#µατα κ τν εκτων). The same definition combines
objective, purely statistical probability (τ ς π τ πολ ντα) and
subjective plausibility (τ ς π τ πολ δοκο$ντα).
Ancient rhetorical theory in general highlighted the subjective as-
pect, as is evident in the definition of εκς that Anaximenes (?) gives in
his Rhetorica ad Alexandrum (7.3.4 1428a27–35):
1 Pace Eden, who claims (1989, 115–19) that Aristotle’s use of εκς was almost ex-
clusively based on objective probability. Against, see Warnick 1989; Halliwell 1986; O’Sul-
livan 1995. Cf. also Aristotle’s definition of εκς in Analytica Priora 2.27 70a4–6.
I should note, here at the outset, that for my texts I have drawn on standard edi-
tions from a number of publishers. The translations are all my own.
American Journal of Philology 121 (2000) 47–77 2000 by The Johns Hopkins University Press
03AJP 121.1Schmitz pp 046-077 4/6/00 2:36 PM Page 48
48 THOMAS A. SCHMITZ
Εκς µν ο&ν στιν, ο( λεγοµ νου παραδε*γµατα ν τα+ς διανο*αις χου-

σιν ο. /κοοντες. λ γω δ’ ο2ον ε3 τις φα*η τ5ν πατρ*δα βολεσθαι µεγ7-
λην ε8ναι κα τος οκε*ους ε& πρ7ττειν κα τος χθρος /τυχε+ν κα τ
τοτοις 9µοια, συλλ#βδην εκτα δξει ε8ναι. ;καστος γ ρ τν /κουν-
των σνοιδεν α<τς α=τ> περ τοτων κα τν τοτοις ?µοιοτρπων
χοντι τοιατας πιθυµ*ας. @στε το$το δε+ παρατηρε+ν AµBς ν το+ς λ-
γοις /ε*, ε τος /κοοντας συνειδτας ληψµεθα περ το$ πρ7γµατος
ο( λ γοµενD τοτοις γ ρ α<τος εκς στι µ7λιστα πιστεειν.
Plausibility is achieved if the listeners have examples of what is said in
mind. To wit, if somebody were to say that he wants his fatherland to be
great and his friends to be lucky and his enemies to be unlucky and simi-
lar things, this, in short, will seem plausible. For every listener is aware
that he himself has similar desires about these and like matters. Hence we
must always take care in our speeches to secure our listeners’ concur-
rence in the matters about which we are speaking. For they are likely to
trust these statements most.
Anaximenes thus defines εκς as an attentiveness to the public’s as-

sumptions rather than an objective quality inherent in certain facts. His
aim is to train future orators. Whereas a philosopher such as Aristotle
wants to explore the very foundations of rhetorical persuasion and thus
is interested in all aspects of εκς, orators will be concerned with per-
suading their audiences instead of speculating about the laws of nature.
Yet it could be argued that the modern distinction is largely illusory.
Even the most “objective” probability must appear probable to some-
one; if there are no observers bringing in their own experiences and pre-
suppositions, there is no probability.
From its earliest period, Greek oratory made extensive use of this
concept. It is impossible to pinpoint its exact origin2 —it probably was
“discovered” several times. Anastassiou’s suggestion (1981, 358–60) that
εκς was first used as a means of reaching a decision in cases of insuffi-
cient evidence and was not employed by orators as a strategy of persua-
sion until later3 strains the imagination. As soon as there was a case of
insufficient evidence, both parties were sure to use εκς to further their
point of view, trying to persuade the judges of the plausibility of their
2 See, e.g., Johnstone 1996, 12; or López Eire (1994, 48–49), who tries to demon-
strate that the concept goes back to Parmenides and the Eleatic school of thought. Our
evidence is just too slight to warrant such conclusions.
3 A similar argument has been advanced by Cole (1991a, 96–97).
PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 49
version. From early times, εκς certainly was no less a means of dis-
course than a tool of knowledge about the world.
One of our earliest examples for this rhetorical use comes from
the Homeric Hymn to Hermes. When Apollo accuses Hermes of having
stolen his cattle, Hermes answers that he, a mere baby, is not likely to
be a cattle thief (ο<δ οικα, 265). So far, discussions of this passage4
have seldom mentioned one important feature: Hermes is lying. Against
all appearances and probabilities, the mere baby did indeed steal Apol-
lo’s cattle. Thus not only is the author of the hymn familiar with this
particular form of argument, he also knows that it can be employed de-
ceptively. His use of the device appears to be a playful parody of argu-
ments that he considered typical of court speeches. This seems to pre-
suppose that at the time of the hymn’s composition (which most critics
date to the beginning of the fifth century),5 the argument from εκς
was already well understood and had originated at least one or two gen-
erations earlier. In the speeches of the oldest Attic orator, Antiphon, we
find the concept fully developed.6
One example will suffice to demonstrate how ancient orators uti-
lized this form of argument. In a speech that Antiphon wrote sometime
between 422 and 413 B.C.,7 the speaker (a man from Lesbian Mytilene
whose name has not been transmitted) defends himself against allega-
tions of having killed an Athenian named Herodes. His accusers assert
that after the crime he disposed of the corpse with the help of a slave.
Among the many arguments that he adduces to prove his defendant’s
innocence Antiphon makes him deliver this reflection (Or. 5.43):
κα*τοι τ εκς σµµαχν µο* στιν. ο< γ ρ δ#που οEτω κακοδα*µων

γF, @στε τ µν /ποκτε+ναι τν Gνδρα προ<νοησ7µην µνος, Hνα µοι
µηδες συνειδε*η, ν >I µοι ? πBς κ*νδυνος Jν, Kδη δ πεπραγµ νου µοι
το$ ργου µ7ρτυρας κα συµβολους ποιοµην.
4 See, e.g., Kennedy 1963, 40–41.

5 It is difficult to give a precise date for the Hymn to Hermes; see Görgemanns 1976,
115–17. Szepes 1980 fails to convince me.
6 Solmsen (1931) was thus wrong to argue that these speeches indicate a transitional
period from an earlier stage of oratory, which relied exclusively on nonartistic proofs such
as oaths or witness accounts, to the later system, which used arguments from probability.
Cf. Cole 1991a, 96–97. Against Solmsen’s thesis see also Due 1980, 11–14; Goebel 1983,
49–55; Gagarin 1990.
7 For the date see Schindel 1979; on the speech and the underlying case see further
Erbse 1977; Heitsch 1984, 33–89; Manuwald 1995; Carawan 1998, 316–21.
And yet, probability (εκς) is on my side. For I am certainly not so

wretched as to plan the actual killing of the man alone in order to have
no accessories while I take the whole risk, but create witnesses and advis-
ers after I had already perpetrated the deed.
This passage is typical of εκς considerations in a number of ways. Its

logical force rests on an enthymeme: “People are likely to seek help not
after, but in (i.e., during) a dangerous situation. My opponents’ version
states that I did exactly the contrary of this general rule. Therefore, it is
improbable: probability is on my side and against them.” Assumptions
about human behavior in general are tacitly understood in the rea-
soning. The combination of particles ο< γ ρ δ#που tries to drive home
the purported logical weight of the argument by “supporting a positive
statement by an appeal to the impossibility of its opposite” (Denniston
1954, 267). This also shows that most forms of εκς considerations ap-
peal to basic abilities of storytelling. The judges8 are asked to imagine
a situation (the indicative verbs προ<νοησ7µην and ποιοµην desig-
nate the unreality of this line of thought) whose implausibility is then
used to convince them of the truth of the speaker’s version.9
Εκς was not only mastered practically, its theory had been in-
cluded in rhetorical handbooks at a very early stage. Passages in Plato
and Aristotle relate that the rhetorical treatises of Corax and Tisias in-
cluded discussions of εκς. These detailed accounts display a level of
abstraction which demonstrates that the concept itself must have been
well understood at the time of their writing.10 We have already seen that
8 I am aware of the difficulties in translating the Greek δικαστ#ς: both “judge” and
“juror” are misleading, because they suggest a similarity to modern institutions (see Todd
1993, 69, 82–83). However, the inelegance of retaining the untranslated Greek term
seemed to outweigh this imprecision; hence I ask my readers to keep the problem in mind
whenever they find the words “judges” and “jurors.”
9 Ο< γ ρ δ#που is regularly used in this sense. Denniston (1954, 267) notes that in
Plato it occurs most often with a following γε; in the orators, however, it seems to be more
frequent without the γε. For examples with γε see, e.g., Dem. 20.35, [49.52], 53.1 (a pas-
sage very similar to the one discussed above), 57.48; Lys. 4.15. For examples without γε
Dem. 6.36, 18.13, 19.204, 21.121, 23.86, 27.45, 37.18, 38.8, 39.6 (again, a very similar use),
57.25, [58.56]; Lys. 10.8, 12.27, 13.18, 14.36, 21.18, 24.13, 31.28; Isoc. 16.44; Is. 1.46, 6.46. In all
these occurrences it is clear that the listeners are invited to imagine an alternative story
line.
10 The passages are Phaedr. 272d–273c and Rhet. 2.24 1402a17–28. Plato attributes
these ideas to Tisias; Aristotle, to Corax. Much ink has been spilled on the question
later rhetorical treatises such as Anaximenes’ Rhetorica ad Alexandrum

or Aristotle’s Rhetoric give detailed accounts of εκς.
Modern scholarship has examined these ancient theories and
rhetorical practice on a number of occasions.11 The focus of these stud-
ies, however, has hitherto been exclusively on explicit εκς consid-
erations such as the passage in Antiphon quoted above: the speaker
himself points out that the argument he is making depends on consider-
ations about the plausibility of events and stories. But this use is just the
tip of the iceberg; εκς covers a wider ground than these argumenta-
tions. When we realize that εκς means “probable” as well as “plausi-
ble,” we must recognize that it is part of a larger network of devices that
try to render speeches persuasive and acceptable.
My object here is to advance our understanding of the device by
exploring its broader context. I propose that the concept of εκς needs
to be examined in conjunction with theories of plausibility that have
been developed for other literary and nonliterary types of discourse,
especially fictional narrative. As was evident in the example quoted
above, most εκς considerations explicitly or implicitly appeal to the
audience’s ability to interpret, or analogize from, storytelling. The con-
nection between strategies of verisimilitude in fiction and in oratory was
indeed perceived in antiquity. As Eden has shown in her study of Aris-
totelian theories (1989, 18–20; see also 69–70), Aristotle regarded prob-
ability in rhetoric and in tragic poetry as related. And Pratt’s recent
(1993) book analyzes the concept of verisimilitude, of “plausible lying,”
in the Homeric epics.12 Modern literary theory has also made important
whether what we have here are references to two different passages or whether one of
our authorities blundered; see Goebel 1983, 109–35; Goebel 1989, 45–53; Gagarin 1994,
50–57; López Eire 1994, 37–40. An ingenious solution to the mystery has been offered
by Cole (1991b), who suggests that Tisias and Corax really were the same person; see
also Kennedy 1994, 34. I cannot enter here into the argument whether Tisias and Corax
wrote rhetorical handbooks proper or merely published examples of devices and model
speeches.
11 Esp. Fairchild 1979; Anastassiou 1981; Goebel 1983; Goebel 1989; Warnick 1989;
Gagarin 1990, 20–30; Gagarin 1994; López Eire 1994, 47–52; O’Sullivan 1995; Grimaldi
1996, 38; Gondos 1996.
12 See Pratt 1993, 91, on Od. 19.203, where Odysseus’ tales are described as “lies
which are similar to the truth” (ψεδεα τµοισιν ?µο+α): “this is an accurate description
of the verisimilitude that lends them [lies] plausibility.” See also Pratt 106–13 on Hes.
Theog. 22–35; also Bowie 1993.
contributions to the field of study of verisimilitude and plausibility.13 In

applying such ideas, I aim at a more thorough understanding of εκς
than has hitherto been achieved.
The first section of my discussion regards the logical status of court
speeches as compared to fiction. These preliminary observations show
that the strategies of verisimilitude utilized in these genres are indeed
comparable. In the second section I indicate how these new approaches
may be productive for the assessment of εκς in the Greek orators, and
distinguish various strategies of achieving plausibility. Finally, I suggest
that the word εκς was particularly apt for use in rhetorical argumen-
tation precisely because of its wide range of meaning.
ATTIC COURT SPEECHES AND FICTION
In the most systematic comparison of “factual” and fictional narrative

that has been undertaken so far, Genette (1993, 54–84) comes to the
conclusion that on the level of discourse there are surprisingly few fac-
tors that allow us to distinguish one from the other. However, the prag-
matic differences between these two types are obviously paramount.
Although Gorgias and the anonymous author of the δισσο λγοι both
claim that tragedy tries to deceive (/πατBν) its public,14 we can be cer-
tain that no fictional text is deceptive in the same manner as a nonfic-
tional text can be. While the latter may imply an absolute claim to its
own trustworthiness, fiction does not purport to be true in the same
way.15 Even if we accept Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s definition of poetic
13 For general discussions see, e.g., the special issue of Communications 11 (1968)
mentioned above (opening paragraph), which includes papers by T. Todorov, G. Genette,

C. Metz, G. Genot, J. Kristeva, R. Barthes, V. Morin, J. Gritti, O. Burgelin, and M.–C.
Boons; see also the articles by T. Todorov, I. Watt, L. Bersani, R. Barthes, M. Riffaterre,
and P. Hamon collected in Littérature et réalité (1982); also Culler 1975, 131–60; Riffaterre
1990.
14 Gorgias, fr. B23 VS, 9 τε /πατ#σας δικαιτερος το$ µ5 /πατ#σαντος κα ?
/πατηθες σοφFτερος το$ µ5 /πατηθ ντος, “He who deceives is more righteous than he
who does not deceive, and he who is deceived is wiser than he who is not deceived”;
δισσο λγοι, 3.10, ν γ ρ τραγ>ωδοποι*Mα κα ζωγραφ*Mα 9στις κα πλε+στα ξαπατMB
9µοια το+ς /ληθινο+ς ποι ων, ο(τος Gριστος, “Whoever deceives most in the art of trag-
edy and of painting, producing works that are similar to reality, is the best.” On these pas-
sages see Finkelberg 1998, 12, 177–81.
15 A vast amount of work has been published on the question in what respect the
term “truth” can be applied to fictional works of art. Here I must refer to only a few items
faith, his “willing suspension of disbelief for the moment” does not im-
ply that for the time of our reading or listening, we believe in fiction the
same way we believe in statements of fact. The social setting of the ac-
tual performance marks a crucial difference, as even those would con-
cede who accept the (in my view, considerably problematic) theory that
archaic Greek poetry was not fictional in our modern sense but rather a
form of truth statement.16 A defendant before a law court had to assert
the truth of what he was saying with a degree of intensity that was un-
known to an epic bard or rhapsode. In many cases, he would literally
speak for his life, and his chances rose or fell depending on the plausi-
bility of his narration.
This important difference between court speeches and fictional
texts can be described as one of logical status. Whereas fictional texts
produce their objects instead of referring to existing things—in Ge-
nette’s terminology (1993, 25), they are characterized by “pseudorefer-
ence, or [by] denotation without denotata”—the speeches are, at least
ideally, referential, that is, they presuppose an extratextual reality to
which they refer. However, this difference between referential and fic-
tional texts is less clear–cut than it may appear at first sight. There exist
a considerable number of borderline cases that deconstruct this nice
dichotomy. Take the example of mythological characters. On the one
hand, the Greeks believed that these had somehow existed and were
historical persons. On the other hand, the fact that storytellers felt free
to alter the traditional versions and that their audiences accepted these
modifications shows that no Athenian would have viewed these myths
to be as “real” (i.e., referential) as communications about everyday life.
Comedy is another borderline case which poses difficult logical prob-
lems. Side by side on the same stage, the Athenian audience saw clearly
fictitious characters such as Trygaeus (who flies into Olympus on the
back of a dung beetle) and representations of real persons such as the
which I consider particularly enlightening: Ingarden 1973, 300–304; Searle 1979, 58–75;
Walton 1990, esp. 70–105; Riffaterre 1990; Genette 1993. The discussion in one of the most
recent contributions, Lamarque and Olsen 1994, did not strike me as very helpful.
16 See esp. Detienne 1996; Rösler 1980. Against this view see the compelling argu-
ments in Bowie 1993; Finkelberg 1998; Pratt 1993, esp. 113: “We tend to behave in speak-
ing of the invention of fictionality as though the history of narrative proceeds from funda-
mentalism to an ability to appreciate invented narrative, but in fact literal–mindedness
may be the deadly product of our own culture.” See also Walton 1990, 95–98, an excellent
discussion of the truth value in myths from a philosophical perspective.
poet Euripides or the general Lamachus. From a strictly logical point of

view these cases present troublesome problems, because degrees of re-
ality do not exist: something is, or is not, real. However, in our everyday
lives, we master such borderline cases with ease,17 and obviously so did
ancient Athenians.
Even the court speeches themselves are not free from this kind of
fluctuation. At an early stage of Greek oratory, Gorgias used the same
methods of argumentation that are normally employed by court
speeches in his fictitious pleas for mythological characters such as Pala-
medes or Helen.18 Antiphon’s three Tetralogies picture wholly imagi-
nary lawsuits. Incidentally, this genre of fictional court speech, later
called µελ τη, was to be immensely successful during the Hellenistic
and imperial eras.19 The authenticity of the Tetralogies has been ques-
tioned many times.20 As yet, no compelling reasons for regarding them
as spurious have been adduced, and I suspect that many critics just feel
uneasy about the strange status of these texts. Fictitious court speeches
are secondary in their logical and chronological condition; they presup-
pose the existence of real law courts and the procedures of pleading
customary in them. Hence critics instinctively regard these fictitious
pleas as late phenomena (like the Hellenistic and imperial µελ ται) and
find it hard to believe that the oldest preserved documents of Attic ora-
tory should be fictitious speeches. And yet, despite misgivings, this
seems to be the case.
These borderline instances demonstrate that the distinction be-
tween fictional and referential texts may be problematical,21 but there
are other factors too that bring court speeches close to fictional litera-
ture. The most important of these can be described in terms of the situ-
ation in which the speeches were delivered and received. When Athe-
nian citizens of the fifth or fourth century convened as jurors for a trial,
some of them probably knew the accused and/or the plaintiff personally
17 For a highly entertaining overview see Watzlawick 1976.

18 On the Encomium of Helen see now Schiappa 1996; on Gorgias’ skeptical view of
the relation between language and reality see Jarratt 1991, 53–57.
19 On µελ ται see Kennedy 1974; Russell 1983; Swain 1996; Schmitz 1997.
20 The most recent contributions are (against authenticity) Sealey 1984; Carawan
1993; Carawan 1998, 171–215; (for authenticity) Goebel 1983, 15–16; Goebel 1989, 47 n. 16;
Eucken 1996; Gagarin 1997, 8–9.
21 More examples of such borderline cases are analyzed in Degering 1983; Currie
1985, 388–90; Cohn 1989; Walton 1990, 89–95. See also Genette 1993, 79–84.
(all the more so in trials which featured well–known politicians). How-

ever, only very few of them will have had in advance any peculiar knowl-
edge of the facts about which the trial was to proceed (even though a
challenge for bias does not seem to have existed in the Athenian law
system).22 This meant that the reality of the facts and circumstances was
accessible to the overwhelming majority of the jury only via the text of
the pleadings that both parties held.23 The only elements of the speeches
that the jurors could immediately perceive as referential were mentions
of people and things present in the law court, most typically in the form
of ο(τος or ο(τοι, “my opponent(s) whom you see over there.” All other
parts of the text merely claimed to be referential, a claim that could,
due to the nature of Athenian lawsuits, not be checked against exter-
nal evidence: all trials were “she says, he says” cases, as we would call it
today.
It is this quality of court speeches that allows us to compare them
to fictional texts and to draw on definitions of plausibility and verisimili-
tude that have been discussed for fiction. Many positions in modern
literary theory are marked by a deep–rooted mistrust concerning the
relation between texts and extratextual reality. De Man, for instance,
always insisted on the rhetorical, opaque character of language, which
frustrates all attempts to reach the real world via linguistically encoded
information.24 According to proponents of such theories, some texts ap-
pear to be more “realistic” or convey the impression of being more life-
like than other texts, not because they are somehow closer to reality it-
self but because they make use of certain textual strategies. These
procedures, if employed successfully, create what Barthes has labeled
the “referential illusion.”25 They make the audience believe that the
22 Although the jurors swore an oath to the effect that they would judge “according
to their justest judgment, without regard to favor or enmity” (Dem. 57.63, τ ψηφιε+σθαι
γνFµOη τOP δικαιοτ7τOη κα οQτε χ7ριτος ;νεκ’ οQτ’ χθρας; see Harrison 1998, 48), they
could not be held responsible for their decisions.
23 Additional testimonies were themselves carefully drafted and thus apt to distort
reality; see Carey 1994, 97–106.

24 De Man 1986, 11: “Literature is fiction not because it somehow refuses to ac-
knowledge ‘reality,’ but because it is not a priori certain that language functions accord-
ing to principles which are those, or which are like those, of the phenomenal world. It is
therefore not a priori certain that literature is a reliable source of information about any-
thing but its own language.”
25 Barthes 1986, 148. Riffaterre (1978) speaks of “referential fallacy.”
words of the text are a direct representation of the world as in itself it

really is—or, to be more precise, a representation of the world such as
the readers or listeners of the text believe it to be. Brinker has rightly
insisted that seemingly verisimilitudinous representations always imply
and presuppose the beliefs of the public.26
If we take this definition seriously, verisimilitude should be de-
scribed as a relation not between texts and reality, but between differ-
ent sorts of discourse, as Kristeva has argued.27 “True” discourse is a
representation of reality, verisimilitudinous discourse a representation
of this true discourse. Obviously this relation presupposes one impor-
tant notion: we have to accept that there is such a thing as true dis-
course. If an audience takes the extreme skeptical stance that reality is
totally inaccessible to human thought and speech, the notion of “truth”
makes no sense anymore, and with it goes the concept of verisimilitude.
How do these reflections apply to the Attic court speeches? The
ancient jurors certainly believed in the existence of truth—otherwise,
the whole Athenian system of jurisdiction would have been absurd.28
Yet this optimistic belief that the truth exists and can be reached via
thorough examination of the existing evidence was offset by a profound
skepticism toward the litigants’ speeches. Both parties in a trial would
attempt to depict their own discourse as honest and trustworthy while
denouncing their opponents’ as simply trying to simulate this truthful-
ness. If their own position was corroborated by εκς considerations,
speakers would emphasize that there was no other hope of attaining the
truth.29 The plaintiff in Antiphon’s First Tetralogy, for example, stresses
that crimes are difficult to prove if their planning was careful. Hence,
knowing this difficulty, the judges ought to trust every bit of plausibility
26 Brinker 1983. He defines this quality as follows: “Verisimilitude may be described
as the factor by which a representation is recognized as a possible model of a given (non-

artistic) reality when the representation in question seems to us to be modeled upon this
very reality” (261). A similar argument had been made by Chatman (1981, 28–29); see also
Jakobson 1987, 23 (in the article “On Realism in Art,” first published in 1921); Orr 1981,
204–5; Barthes 1986, 147. See also the definition of εκς in Anaximenes’ treatise, quoted
above.
27 Kristeva 1969, 150; cf. Culler 1975, 138–40.
28 Indeed, every judicial system depends on the assumption that objective truth ex-
ists and can be reached (at least approximately) by human understanding—as has been
powerfully argued by Farber and Sherry (1997).
29 Cf. Gondos 1996, 86–87.
of which they can catch a glimpse (Tetr. 1 α 2, γιγνFσκοντας ο&ν =µBς

χρ5 τα$τα, κRν ?τιο$ν εκς παραλ7βητε, σφδρα πιστεειν α<τ>).
A similar point is further elaborated in Demosthenes’ speech Against
Androtion (22.22):
στι το*νυν /ν7γκη τος λ γχοντας τεκµ#ρια δεικνναι δι’ Iν µφα-

νιο$σι τ πιστν =µ+ν, τ εκτα φρ7ζειν, µ7ρτυρας παρ χεσθαιD ο<
γ ρ ο2ν τ’ ν*ων α<τπτας =µBς στι καταστPσαι, /λλ’ ν πιδεικνOη
τ*ς τι τοτων, .κανν νοµ*ζετ’ λεγχον χειν =µε+ς εκτως τPς /ληθε*ας
Sκ7στοτε.
By necessity, those who want to prove something must either provide evi-
dence by which they can show you what is reliable, or tell plausible facts
or provide witnesses. For in some cases, it is not possible to make you see
the evidence yourselves. Accordingly, if someone manages to show any of
these, you rightly consider this a sufficient evidence of the truth.
On the other hand, speakers tended to disparage εκς considera-

tions which their opponents had used and point out that there was an
immense difference between reality and probability. Thus the defendant
in Antiphon’s First Tetralogy is eager to oppose the real (ντως) and
the probable (εκτως) perpetrator (as at 1 β 10, “It may be probable
that I killed this man, but in reality, I did not do it,” ε κα εκτως µ ν,
ντως δ µ5 /π κτεινα τν Gνδρα),30 whereas Isaeus in his speech For
the Heirs of Nicostratus (4.18) distinguishes between the precise facts
(τ /κριβ ς) and the plausibilities (εκς).
This strategy is explicitly mentioned in an interesting passage in
Aristotle’s Rhetoric. In the section on artless proofs he outlines a strat-
egy of how to strengthen one’s position against opponents whether they
have witnesses or not.31 Either case requires a special kind of argument
(1.15 1376a17–23):
30 See further 1 δ 10, “They pretend to prove my guilt by showing the probabilities
and assert that I am the real, not the likely murderer of this man,” κ δ τν εκτων
προσποιοµενο* µε λ γχειν, ο<κ εκτως /λλ’ ντως φον α µ φασι το$ /νδρς ε8ναι,
referring to 1 γ 8, φ7σκων δ ο< τος εκτως, /λλ’ ντως /ποκτε*ναντας φον ας ε8ναι.
On the use of εκς in the Tetralogies see Carawan 1998, 184–92.
31 This passage should not be read as a judgment endorsed by Aristotle, but rather
as a description of strategies used by speakers in the courts, possibly derived from older
handbooks of rhetoric; cf. Radermacher 1951, 213–14. On the basis of this passage Warnick
makes the claim that “in the Greek courts, probabilities were often given more credence
πιστFµατα δ περ µαρτυριν µ7ρτυρας µν µ5 χοντι, 9τι κ τν ε-

κτων δε+ κρ*νειν κα το$τ’ στ τ “γνFµOη τOP /ρ*στOη,” κα 9τι ο<κ στιν
ξαπατPσαι τ εκτα π /ργυρ*>ω, κα 9τι ο<χ Vλ*σκεται τ εκτα
ψευδοµαρτυρινD χοντι δ πρς µ5 χοντα, 9τι ο<χ =πδικα τ εκτα,
κα 9τι ο<δν Rν δει µαρτυριν, ε κ τν λγων .κανν Jν θεωρPσαι.
For those who do not have witnesses, the strategy is to say that one has to
judge according to probabilities and that this is the meaning of the phrase
“according to my best judgment,”32 and that probabilities cannot be bribed
or convicted of bearing false witness. For those who have witnesses and
are pitted against those who do not, the strategy is to say that probabili-
ties incur no responsibility and that there would be no need for witnesses
if one could investigate the truth by looking at the arguments alone.
We can be certain that the Athenian judges would have heard both of
these arguments over and over again, and that in most cases these ap-
peals to different standards of credibility would cancel each other out.
Unfortunately, today we rarely have the arguments of both sides avail-
able, but instead have to reconstruct the other side’s case by using the
transmitted speech.33 Athenian judges, however, confronted with two
diverging accounts and assessments of the circumstances, knew pre-
cisely that at least one of the parties (and frequently both, we may as-
sume)34 was perfectly apt and inclined to distort the facts in order to
win the case. Accordingly, jurors certainly were experienced and shrewd
listeners and evaluators of court speeches and hardly let themselves be
deceived by verisimilitudinous narratives, no matter how plausible and
convincing they might appear.35 It is therefore hardly an exaggeration
than physical evidence and the testimony of witnesses. Physical evidence could be cor-
rupted or prearranged, and witnesses could be bribed, but probabilities were viewed as
constant and universally acceptable” (1989, 308). However, this is neglecting the context:
Aristotle is describing the tactics of lawyers, not a general attitude toward types of evi-
dence. Cf. also the debate about the role of torture in the Athenian law courts cited below,
note 56.
32 This expression was part of the jurors’ oath; see above, note 22.
33 For the few cases of “matching pairs” see Todd 1993, 37 with n. 13.
34 See Todd 1990, 172: “an orator will lie his head off at the slightest opportunity.”
And Todd 1993, 38: “It is often possible to show . . . that a speaker is lying, but it is dan-
gerous to infer from this that his opponent is telling the truth; even when you have a case
that is both legally strong and likely to win the favour of the jury, it may be worth ‘im-
proving’ it.”
35 Aristophanes’ Philocleon is rather cynical about the credibility of speakers in the
law courts: see Wasps 560–75.

to say that Athenian judges were no less skeptical in their evaluation of

the relation between text and reality than postmodern literary critics.
(Even today, it is frequently said that because of their profession, jurists
inevitably turn cynical.)
Professional speechwriters knew this, of course, and therefore
tried to anticipate this skepticism in their orations. Lysias’ third speech
contains an incredible tale of strife about a young male prostitute, his
abduction, and the ensuing hubbub that ended in a free–for–all. At one
point, the speaker self–consciously comments about his own narrative
(3.37): “It is not the case that these words are plausible, but the events
were completely different, no . . . ,” ο< το*νυν τα$τα εκτα µ ν,
Gλλως δ περ α<τν π πρακται, /λλ . . . Only after this interruption
does he resume his tale. The speaker (and hence, Lysias) is thus aware
that jurors might resent a narrative that was too perfect and smooth be-
cause they were conscious of how much tampering with the bare facts
such an account might require.
In general, however, litigants would aim at maximum plausibility
in their speeches. Therefore, they exerted great effort that their dis-
course would appear a “truthful” one. Our next step is to investigate
how this was achieved. Precisely which devices made a narrative appear
to be similar to a true discourse? In this case, too, concepts developed
for the analysis of fictional texts can help us understand how Athenian
speechwriters worked toward giving this desirable impression.
STRATEGIES OF VERISIMILITUDE
First of all, it is obvious that every narrative aiming at verisimilitude has

to fulfill certain basic expectations about the behavior of human beings
and about the material world in general. In an illuminating discussion of
the subject Culler tried to establish two sets of such rules, differen-
tiating between “natural” and “cultural” vraisemblance. He himself ac-
knowledged that the latter is “in some cases difficult to distinguish from
the first.”36 Rather, we should consider these categories as a continuum,
any partition of which is bound to be arbitrary. At one extreme are no-
tions that really seem so universal as to transcend any given culture:
“We speak of people as having minds and bodies, as thinking, imagin-
ing, remembering, feeling pain, loving and hating, etc., and do not have
36 Culler 1975, 139–45 (quotation, 140).

to justify such discourse by adducing philosophical arguments” (Culler

1975, 140). At the other extreme are convictions that are valid for an
identifiable group of people only. For those who believe in the existence
of UFOs, flying saucers comprise as much a part of reality as trees and
stones. Most cases, however, are somewhere in between these extremes,
as a brief look at the Attic orators will show.
In one of his speeches (23.15) Lysias makes the argument that no
citizen of Plataea would ever choose to live in Thebes because of the
deep–seated hostility between these two cities. This clearly is a topical
argument, valid only in certain historical, social, and geographical cir-
cumstances, and we may presume that the speaker and the audience
were aware of this limitation. On the other hand, when Attic orators
adduced family relationships as motivations for certain behavior,37 they
likely assumed that they were referring to eternal laws of human na-
ture. But the very fact that the speechwriters mention these plausibili-
ties quite so often and quite so emphatically38 should make us wary. In
this respect, fourth–century Athens was probably not very different
from our own culture. Family values are easy to utilize in manipulating
the public’s emotions; their real importance in everyday life, however,
is not always easy to assess. Culler’s distinction between “natural” and
“cultural” verisimilitude, then, is not always easy to grasp; but what
counted in Athens was the acceptance that both forms of plausibility
found with the judges. When they were listening to the speeches in
court, they had no time for lengthy philosophical speculation about
whether a narrative’s verisimilitude was based on natural or cultural
factors. If they could be brought to accept, as being reasonable, a de-
scription of laws governing human actions, the speaker had succeeded
in his task.
Most of the time these general laws are tacitly implied in the nar-
ratives, yet we also find them explicitly quoted in the course of the
argument. A similar phenomenon in modern fiction was analyzed by
Genette in a paper first published in 1968: “The verisimilitudinous nar-
rative is a narrative whose actions correspond, like applications or ex-
amples, to a body of maxims that the public accepts as true. Yet most
37 For instance, Andocides claims that it is natural to love one’s father (1.50, τν
πατ ρα, Wν εκς στ* σε µ7λιστα φιλε+ν). Isaeus says it is εκς that relatives perform re-
ligious rituals together (8.15, ο2α γ ρ εκς πα*δων ντων ξ Sαυτο$ θυγατρς, ο<δε-
πFποτε θυσ*αν Gνευ Aµν ο<δεµ*αν πο*ησεν).
38 See further Ant. 1.2, 5.74; Dem. 44.32; Is. 2.18, 4.1, 6.41.
often, these maxims, precisely because they are accepted, are merely
implied. The relation between the verisimilitudinous narrative and the
system of verisimilitude to which it refers is hence essentially mute.”39
Let us consider two examples that show such accepted maxims at work
in order to produce verisimilitude. Lysias’ twentieth speech concludes
with an emotional appeal to the judges (36): “We would indeed suffer
horrible things if we were saved by our enemies who were likely (εκς)
to preclude our rescue, but will not even obtain salvation from you”
(δειν δ’ Rν π7θοιµεν, ε =π τν πολεµ*ων µν σFθηµεν, οYς εκς
Jν διακωλειν µ5 σ>Fζεσθαι, παρ’ =µν δ µηδ ε=ρησµεθα τ σωθP-
ναι). In his speech Against Euthynus Isocrates uses an intricate εκς
consideration to demonstrate that Nicias, on whose behalf he is speak-
ing, did indeed deposit a large sum of money with Euthynus (21.6):
[Αλλ µ5ν κα ξ α<το$ Gν τις το$ πρ7γµατος γνο*η 9τι πολ µBλλον
εκς Jν Ε<θνουν λαβντα ξαρνε+σθαι Νικ*αν µ5 δντα ατιBσθαι.
δPλον γ ρ 9τι π7ντες κ ρδους ;νεκ’ /δικο$σιν. ο. µν ο&ν /ποστερο$ν-
τες Iνπερ ;νεκ’ /δικο$σιν χουσιν, ο. δ’ γκαλο$ντες ο<δ’ ε λ#ψεσθαι
µ λλουσιν 3σασιν.
The matter itself shows that Euthynus is much more likely to have re-
ceived the money and denied it than Nicias [is] to accuse him although
he did not deposit it. For it is obvious that everybody commits crimes
because of the profit. Well, those who steal something hold the object of
their deeds while those who complain about it do not even know if they
are going to recover it.
These passages exemplify the reference to rules which both speaker and
audience unquestioningly accept as normative and compulsory, as being
completely obvious. (In fact, “obvious” would be a good translation for
εκς in these sentences.) To use the formulation of Anaximenes’
quoted earlier: Every listener immediately “had examples of these gen-
eral maxims in mind.” “Helping friends and harming enemies” is such a
rule, as is the assumption that people will commit a crime in order to
reap profit from it.
39 Genette [1968] 1969, 76: “Le récit vraisemblable est . . . un récit dont les actions
répondent, comme autant d’applications ou de cas particuliers, à un corps de maximes

reçues comme vraies par le public auquel il s’adresse; mais ces maximes, du fait même
qu’elles sont admises, restent le plus souvent implicites. Le rapport entre le récit vraisem-
blable et le système de vraisemblance auquel il s’astreint est donc essentiellement muet.”
See also Riffaterre 1990, 8–10.
However, there is a major difference between these cases and Ge-

nette’s analysis. Whereas fictional narratives generally prefer merely to
imply these rules, the Attic orators frequently quote the maxims that
underlie their reflections. One may wonder why this is the case. Devel-
oping an idea of Barthes’s, Culler has shown (1975, 195–96) that among
other things, these references to implicit maxims can be interpreted as a
way “of evoking and solidifying the contract with the reader, insisting
that the narrator is only a more knowledgeable version of the reader
and that they share the same world to which the language of the novel
refers.” This “voice of reading” effectively merges the reader’s and the
narrator’s points of view, thus achieving verisimilitude. This mechanism
could not have been employed in the court speeches, where the “nar-
rator” is not a textual function but was an actual person that narratees
(the audience, judge, jury) could see and hear. Instead of creating the il-
lusion that the text spoke with the voice of reading, Attic speechwriters
were at pains to convince their audiences that the speaker was one of
their own kind. Hence explicit reference to these rules served a double
purpose. First, there was the logical import. By showing that their cause
was supported by such (literally commonsense) arguments, speakers
demonstrated that they were obviously right. But I would argue that the
psychological impact is at least as important: the citation of these un-
written rules emphasized that both the speaker and the jurors shared
common ground, that their whole outlook on the world and on human
behavior was similar. Emphasizing this shared ideology will not only
have rendered the narratives and arguments plausible, it will also have
created a feeling of togetherness and sympathy.
Of course, such references to commonly accepted moral rules are
particularly suitable for manipulating the listeners. An especially con-
spicuous case is the allusion to the “laws of our fathers” or “the customs
of our ancestors.” Appeals to traditional values seem to have impressed
Athenian audiences to a great extent, leaving no room for disagreement
or doubt.40 Thus orators were apt to use these references precisely at
those points where their argumentation was quite weak. At one point in
his speech On the False Embassy Aeschines quotes a detail of proce-
dure which “our fathers” (ο. πατ ρες Aµν, 2.87) had instituted for law-
suits at the Palladion. This has nothing whatsoever to do with the case
40 On the orators’ attempts to manipulate the jurors by referring to “the laws” see
Hillgruber 1988, 104–20.

at hand, but the speaker probably hoped that the unassailability of the
“fathers” would delude the jurors, thus obscuring his faulty logic and
preparing the way for the ensuing abuse against his opponent (Demos-
thenes). Similar strategies are sometimes applied by modern politicians.
Our last strategy to consider for producing verisimilitude is of a
somewhat different nature. It is particularly conspicuous in nineteenth–
century realist fiction. The narrative dwells at length on small details
that seem completely superfluous for the plot—descriptions of clothing
or furniture are an example of this. Such elements pretend to elude the
clear functionality that readers expect of narrative, thereby proclaiming
that they represent not artificially planned narrative, but reality itself.
Barthes, who described this “reality effect” in a famous article pub-
lished in 1968, was of course not the first to see this method of achiev-
ing realism, but he analyzed for the first time the underlying reasoning:
seemingly nonfunctional descriptions and characterizations appeal to
the audience’s knowledge that in reality, most things are accidental.41
By a curious yet explainable reversal of strict logic, this knowledge in
turn leads to the conviction that accidental details are a sign of reality.
Of course, the knowledge that vivid details endow a tale with veri-
similitude has existed ever since the beginning of narrative. Homer’s
Odysseus understood this principle thoroughly when he embellished his
deceptive tales with all kinds of fictitious details. Apparently, it was to
this quality of the Homeric epics that Aristotle referred in his Poetics
when he wrote (24 1460a18–27) that Homer “has taught the other poets
how to lie fittingly.” This, at least, seems to be the most plausible expla-
nation of a passage which is rather difficult to understand because of
Aristotle’s brevity of expression.42
Aristotle’s contemporary Aeschines gives further proof that the
function of graphic, unexpected details in lending verisimilitude to fic-
tional narratives was well understood in that time. Two passages in his
41 Barthes [1968] 1986, 146: “The pure and simple ‘representation’ of the ‘real,’ the
naked relation of ‘what is’ (or has been) thus appears as a resistance to meaning; this
resistance confirms the great mythic opposition of the true–to–life (the lifelike) and the
intelligible . . . , as if, by some statutory exclusion, what is alive cannot signify—and vice
versa.” See also Striedter 1989, 38.
42 On this passage see Lucas 1968, 229: “What the deception of the audience by
παραλογισµς comes down to is that, the more realistic details are invented in an account
of an improbable event, the more probable it is made to seem.” See also Else 1957,
625–26; Puelma 1995, 140 with n. 64.
speeches against Demosthenes accuse his opponent of counterfeiting

“truthful” discourse by imitating its procedures (2.153):
Aγε+ται δ’ 9ταν τι ψεδηται τν λγων 9ρκος κατ τν /ναισχντων

^φθαλµν, κα τ µ5 γεγενηµ να ο< µνον ς στι λ γει, /λλ κα τ5ν
Aµ ραν, ν O_ φησι γεν σθαιD κα προστ*θησ*ν τινος νοµα πλασ7µενος,
ς τυχε παρFν, µιµοµενος τος τ/ληθP λ γοντας.
Whenever he tells a lie, his speech begins with an oath on his shameless
eyes, and not only does he assert the existence of what never happened,
but he also tells the day on which it supposedly happened. And he adds
somebody’s name whom he claims was present, making it up, and so imi-
tates those who tell the truth.
The second passage is similar (indeed, it repeats some sentences of this

first). Here, Aeschines contrasts Demosthenes’ behavior with that of
other liars (3.99):
ο. µν γ ρ Gλλοι /λαζνες, 9ταν τι ψεδωνται, /ριστα κα /σαφP πει-

ρνται λ γειν, φοβοµενοι τν λεγχονD ∆ηµοσθ νης δ’ 9ταν /λαζονε-
ηται πρτον µν µεθ’ 9ρκου ψεδεται, ξFλειαν παρFµενος Sαυτ>,
δετερον δ , a ε& ο8δεν ο<δ ποτε σµενα, τολµMB λ γειν /ριθµν ες
?πτ’ σται, κα Iν τ σFµατα ο<χ SFρακε, τοτων τ ^νµατα λ γει,
κλ πτων τ5ν /κρασιν κα µιµοµενος τος τ/ληθP λ γοντας.
When the other boasters tell lies, they try to make their speech vague and
imprecise because they are afraid of being disproved, but whenever De-
mosthenes boasts, first he tells his lies under oath, conjuring destruction
upon himself; second, he dares to tell what he knows will never happen
and actually calculates the time when it will happen, and he tells the
names of people whose bodies he has not seen, deceiving his audience
and imitating those who tell the truth.
Aeschines’ charges show that the strategy of achieving verisimilitude by

adding small, significant details was not only mastered in practice but
also understood in theory. He accuses Demosthenes of making nonref-
erential language look like truthful discourse, or, in the words of Homer
and Hesiod, of inventing “lies that are similar to the truth.” The strategy
of mentioning specific dates and places and giving specific names is one
of the most persistent ways of achieving verisimilitude, employed in
countless fictional narratives from antiquity to the present day.43
43 For an interesting study cf. Rommel 1995.

Later (post–Aristotelian) rhetorical and poetical theory identified

this device as one of the main virtues of the “simple style” (λγος
/φελ#ς) and termed it ν7ργεια.44 This quality is usually defined as “a
power of conveying the things about which one speaks to the senses of
the audience” (Dion. Hal. Lys. 7, δναµ*ς τις =π τ ς ασθ#σεις Gγουσα
τ λεγµενα),45 and the theorists frequently affirm that this power is
achieved by giving important details of an event. Dionysius explains
that ν7ργεια “is achieved by a grasp of circumstantial detail” (γ*γνεται
δ’ κ τPς τν παρακολουθοντων λ#ψεως). “Demetrius” makes the
similar statement that “ν7ργεια is produced by precision and neither
omitting nor taking away anything” (On Style 209, γ*νεται δ’ A ν7ργεια
πρτα µν ξ /κριβολογ*ας κα το$ παραλε*πειν µηδν µ#δ’ κ-
τ µνειν).46
Barthes’s definition of the “reality effect,” however, goes beyond
graphic and surprising details. He has rightly insisted on the seeming
lack of narrative function: “the ‘real’ is supposed to be self–sufficient,
. . . it is strong enough to belie any notion of ‘function’ ” (1986, 147).
This particular aspect, however, seems to be missing from Attic oratory.
Despite Aeschines’ assertions that orators may counterfeit such details
just for the sake of verisimilitude, a closer look at elements that seem to
belong in this category shows that this is not quite the case. Details
always seem to have more functions than merely achieving the reality
effect.
Let us consider an example from Lysias’ speech Against Agoratus.
When the speaker mentions a trial under the Thirty, he gives a vivid de-
scription of the scene. The Thirty were sitting as judges on an elevated
platform; before them, two tables had been set.47 At first this graphical
description might be understood as being nonfunctional in the narra-
tive, thus serving as an instance of reality effect. But further on, it turns
out that the setting served to prevent a secret ballot. Every judge had
to cast his vote openly on the tables, so that the Thirty could observe
every detail from their raised platform. The description, then, is func-
tional in the accuser’s plea; it serves to demonstrate that the Thirty (and
nobody but the Thirty) were fully responsible for every sentence that
44 On ν7ργεια see Zanker 1981.

45 Similar definitions can be found in Herm. Progymn. 10 p. 23.9–11 Rabe; Theon
Progymn. 11 p. 119.27–29 Spengel; or Anon. Seguerianus 96; cf. Kroll 1950, 1111.
46 See also ps.–Aristid. Ars 2.99 p. 112 Schmid.
47 Lys. 13.37, ο. µν γ ρ τρι7κοντα κ7θηντο π τν β7θρων, ο( ν$ν ο. πρυτ7νεις
καθ ζονταιD δο δ τρ7πεζαι ν τ> πρσθεν τν τρι7κοντα κε*σθην.

was passed by this jury. Thus what at first sight seems to be a superflu-
ous detail really is functional in the argumentation.
Other elements may indeed be nonfunctional in regard to the nar-
rative and the logical structure but still serve well–defined purposes.
Lysias’ speech Against Eratosthenes (the only one he made in his own
name) depicts how the Thirty robbed his family of all their posses-
sions. One of them, Melobius, did not even refrain from ripping a pair
of golden earrings from the ears of the wife of Polemarchus, Lysias’
brother. This detail is clearly intended to create an emotional climax:
the earrings are certainly not necessary in the narrative, and they do not
prove any of Lysias’ charges. They simply serve to highlight the Thirty’s
cruelty and brutality, which did not even stop at robbing a woman. This
emotional function is further strengthened by the emphasis which is put
on the history of those earrings: Polemarchus’ wife had been wearing
them when she entered his house for the first time—that is, on the day
of their wedding (Lys. 12.19, τPς γ ρ Πολεµ7ρχου γυναικς χρυσο$ς
SλικτPρας οYς χουσα τγχανεν 9τε τ πρτον Jλθεν ες τ5ν οκ*αν,
Μηλβιος κ τν dτων ξε*λετο).48 Here again, this detail serves no
purpose in the logical progress of the narration, but it is functional as an
appeal to the jurors’ pity and indignation.
We must assume that emotional passages such as this one were
highly efficacious. Athenian jurors were not professionally trained ju-
rists, so they may have been especially susceptible to emotional ap-
peals.49 This also explains the very large amount of personal abuse that
was common in the court speeches.50 Not only did it create an atmo-
sphere that was favorable to the speaker, it also suggested why such an
evil creature as the opponent was apt to commit crimes or to accuse
maliciously. This could again be described as an enthymeme or internal
εκς consideration. But it is obvious that, at the same time, the tear–
jerking story of the earrings is meant to enhance the verisimilitude of
48 On the earrings and their history see Wooten 1988; Borthwick 1990; Bons 1993.
49 On the differences between adversarial and inquisitorial systems of justice see
Harrison (1998, 163–64) and Todd (1993, 67–68). Todd rightly describes “Athenian justice
as the adversary system taken to its extremes.” For someone brought up in a strongly in-
quisitorial system (I am German), the Athenian use of emotion is very surprising; but I
assume that even Americans (whose system is strongly adversarial and allows similar
strategies to some extent) would find most Athenian instances unacceptable.
50 On abuse in Attic oratory see Voegelin 1943; Carey 1989, 162; Harding 1994,
212–18.
the tale: it is one of those small details that, as Diderot said, are the
hallmark of truth.51 What we find here, then, is not an instance of real-
ity effect; it is rather an example of an element that functions on more
than one level.
In general, it seems more typical of the Attic court speeches to
display these multifunctional elements, rather than aiming at pure real-
ity effect. One last example, from Demosthenes, will demonstrate this
point. In his speech Against Conon the speaker, Ariston, accuses Conon
and his son Ctesias of beating him and taking away his cloak. He pic-
tures the scene in a vivid narrative. He was going for a walk in the agora
with a friend when they encountered Ctesias. On their way back, they
were attacked by several men who had been lying in wait for them.
When they had beaten up Ariston, Conon and his son reviled him as he
was lying in the mud. Then the narrative emphasizes one particularly
graphic detail (Dem. 54.9):
κα τ µν Gλλα κα βλασφηµ*αν χει τιν κα λ γειν ^κν#σαιµ’ Rν ν

=µ+ν νια, W δ τPς EβρεFς στι τPς τοτου σηµε+ον κα τεκµ#ριον το$
πBν τ πρBγµ’ =π τοτου γεγενPσθαι, το$θ’ =µ+ν ρD OJδε γ ρ τος
/λεκτρυνας µιµοµενος τος νενικηκτας, ο. δ κροτε+ν το+ς /γκσιν
α<τν eξ*ουν /ντ πτεργων τ ς πλευρ7ς.
The rest was so obscene that I do not want to repeat some of it before
you, but I will say one thing which is a demonstration of his insolence and
a proof that the whole affair has been done by him. He crowed, imitating
fighting cocks that have won a battle, and his friends made him beat his
elbows against his sides like wings.
The speaker is eager to point out that this especially vivid description is
not there for its own sake, but actually serves a purpose, or rather, sev-
eral purposes. On the one hand, Conon’s derisive gesture is a token of
his overall character, his violence (Eβρις). This function of this detail
can be attributed to the emotive level. It will predispose the jurors to
condemn such a man, and simultaneously it will make more plausible
the assumption that he is indeed capable of performing the deeds with
which he is being charged (thus serving as an implicit εκς considera-
tion). Furthermore, this telling detail shows that Conon was indeed re-
51 Diderot developed his thoughts on “small common circumstances” producing
verisimilitude in chapter 10 of his De la poésie dramatique ([1758] 1980, 356–61).

sponsible for this misdeed, that he had orchestrated the whole affair.
This would make it functional on the strictly logical and juridical level.
Ariston of course does not mention that the vividness of this picture is
also meant to enhance the verisimilitude of his tale, but it seems obvi-
ous that this was achieved, too. The detail of Conon crowing like a cock
and flapping his arms rings utterly true: it appears just too freakish to be
invented. In view of the theoretical awareness of similar procedures dis-
played in the passages from Aeschines quoted above, it appears im-
probable that this was just a coincidental by–product of a logically nec-
essary detail. Instead, we must assume that Demosthenes went out of
his way to emphasize the other (seemingly more acceptable) functions
of this element in order to disguise the effect he ultimately intended.
Several reasons could be adduced to explain why the Attic speech-
writers used these multifunctional elements rather than instances of
straight reality effect. First of all, the limited time that was assigned to
the speakers in a lawsuit made it impossible to develop narratives at
a leisurely pace. They had to proceed briskly; every element had to
be functional.52 Digressions from the main points of the case (ξω το$
πρ7γµατος λ γειν) were formally forbidden before the Areopagus, and
apparently even in private cases the parties had to swear an oath to keep
to the point.53 It is unclear whether (and how) this rule could be en-
forced, but it may have contributed to the avoidance of nonfunctional
elements. Finally, the importance of emotionally affective pleas may ex-
plain why speechwriters would include vivid details: they could simulta-
neously achieve other emotive aims with these elements.
THE MEANINGS OF ΕΙΚΟΣ
Thus far I have presented εκς in a broader context by showing that

the concept is one element in a network of strategies that lend plausi-
bility to court speeches. In illustrating one last aspect of εκς, I now
concentrate on the Greek term itself rather than on the abstract con-
cept. The words οικε and εκς στι have a wide range of meanings.54
This quality helps explain why εκς considerations indeed played such
an important role in the Attic court speeches.
52 Cf. the complaint about scarcity of time in, e.g., ps.–Dem. 43.8–9.
53 See Harrison 1998, 163; MacDowell 1978, 249.
54 Good observations on this can be found in Westlake 1958.
Synodinou (1981) would distinguish two major meanings of εκς:

the phenomenological and the deontological. The first of these would
simply describe outward appearances, the second that which is morally
right. But a reviewer (Dalfen 1985) rightly pointed out that these dis-
tinctions are alien to the Greek concept. Depending on the context,
εκς στι can mean anything from “it appears” to “it is obvious” or
even “it is proper,” “it is legitimate.” The reason for this breadth of
meaning seems to be that things which occur very often are also likely to
occur, and their occurrence comes to be regarded as justified. Appar-
ently the psychological connection between the word εκς and the idea
of justice was so close that it induced the speechwriters to combine the
terms δ*καιον and εκς quite often (see, e.g., Ant. 5.49; Isoc. 18.37;
Dem. 18.294, 20.36, 40.5).55
Although these combinations might have arisen from subcon-
scious associations, the Attic orators were also capable of taking full,
conscious advantage of this connection. They liked to make stealthy
transitions from one of these meanings to the other. Two examples will
illustrate this usage. In his eighth speech Isaeus tries to support his cli-
ents’ claim to an inheritance; this involves (as usually in his speeches) a
complicated question of kinship. Here is how the speaker attempts to
prove that he is far more credible than his opponents (8.14):
Τ*νας εκς εδ ναι τ παλαι7; δPλον 9τι τος χρωµ νους τ> π7ππ>ω.
µεµαρτυρ#κασι το*νυν /κο5ν ο(τοι. τ*νας δ’ εδ ναι τ περ τ5ν κδο-
σιν τPς µητρς /ν7γκη; τος γγυησαµ νους κα τος κε*νοις παρντας
9τε eγγυντο. µεµαρτυρ#κασι το*νυν οH τε Ναυσιµ νους προσ#κοντες
κα ο. το$ µο$ πατρς. τ*νες δ ο. τρεφοµ νην νδον κα θυγατ ρα
ο&σαν εδτες γνησ*αν Κ*ρωνος; ο. ν$ν /µφισβητο$ντες ργ>ω φανερς
µαρτυρο$σιν 9τι τα$τ’ στν /ληθP, φεγοντες τ5ν β7σανον. @στε ο<
δ#που το+ς Aµετ ροις Rν /πιστ#σαιτε εκτως, /λλ πολ µBλλον το+ς
τοτων µ7ρτυσιν.
Who is likely (εκς) to know about these events of the past? Obviously
those who were intimate with my grandfather. Well, they have given evi-
dence of what they have heard. Who is likely to know about my mother’s
giving in marriage? Obviously those who betrothed her and those who
were present at the betrothal. Well, the relatives of Nausimenes and my
55 See also Lys. 9.19, κατ τος νµους κα κατ τ εκς; 13.1, εκτως . . . δικα*ως,
25.6. At Ant. Tetr. 1 β 3 the manuscripts are divided between δικα*ως (N) and δ’ εκτως
(A).
father’s relatives have submitted testimony. Who is likely to know that

she was reared in the house and that she is a legitimate daughter of Ki-
ron? Those who try to deny this fact now are indeed giving evidence of its
truth because they shy away from having their slaves questioned. There-
fore, you definitely ought to (εκτως) disbelieve not our witnesses, but
rather theirs.
The opening sentence of this section carries the keyword εκς, which
suggests to the listeners that a consideration of probability will follow.
At first, this assumption seems to be justified. The two εκς considera-
tions that ensue are rather commonplace: eyewitnesses are most likely
to have knowledge of what happened when they were present. The
third element is a bit more complicated but still remains within the lim-
its of probability: if someone denies a fact but is not willing to have his
slaves questioned under torture (β7σανος),56 although they certainly
know about this particular fact, he is likely to be concealing something
and to be lying. These three sentences all use εκς in its phenomeno-
logical sense. The concluding occurrence, however, is different. The
speaker still tries to make it look as though he was continuing his εκς
arguments. He begins the sentence with @στε, thus insinuating that it
represents a logical conclusion of the foregoing arguments, and he uses
the particle δ#που, which we encounter very often in εκς considera-
tions.57 The following εκτως, however, has shifted its meaning. It no
longer expresses what is likely, but what ought to be done; the potential
Rν /πιστ#σαιτε is really a hidden request to the judges.58 The speaker
thus intimates that the foregoing reflections on εκς make it inevitable
for the judges to accept his version of the case and to give judgment in
his favor.
We may observe a similar strategy in the speech which Andocides
pronounced in order to be allowed to return from exile after the oli-
garchic coup of 410 had failed. He had to convince the assembly of the
newly restored democracy that he was not an enemy of the regime. He
could not claim to have deserved well of democracy himself, but he was
56 On β7σανος see now Mirhady 1996 and the convincing reply to his hypothesis in
Thür 1996.
57 To give but a few examples see Is. 9.21; Dem. 21.28, 21.120, 24.198, 36.25; An-
docides 2.19, 5.38, 5.43; Lys. 12.27, 13.18; Ant. 1.11. Cf. above, note. 9.
58 See Goodwin 1890, 79 § 237; Kühner and Gerth 1898–1904, I 233–34.
able to refer to one of his forebears who had played an active role in
fighting against the “tyrants” (2.26):59
? το$ µο$ πατρς πρπαππος Λεωγρας στασι7σας πρς τος τυρ7ν-

νους =πρ το$ δ#µου, ξν α<τ> διαλλαχθ ντι τPς χθρας κα γενοµ ν>ω
κηδεστOP Gρξαι µετ’ κε*νων τν /νδρν τPς πλεως, εHλετο µBλλον κ-
πεσε+ν µετ το$ δ#µου κα φεγων κακοπαθε+ν µBλλον προδτης
α<το$ καταστPναι. @στ’ µοιγε κα δι τ τν προγνων ργα εκτως
=π7ρχει δηµοτικ> ε8ναι, ε3περ τι /λλ ν$ν γε φρονν τυγχ7νω. Iν κα
;νεκα εκς =µBς, ν χρηστς lν /ν5ρ ες =µBς φα*νωµαι, προθυµτε-
ρν µου /ποδ χεσθαι τ πραττµενα.
Leogoras, my father’s great–grandfather, led a democratic revolt against
the tyrants. And even though he could have chosen to come to terms with
them, to become their in–law and to rule the city together with these
men, he preferred to go into exile together with the democrats and to suf-
fer the hardships of banishment rather than become a traitor to his citi-
zens. Accordingly, on account of my ancestors’ deeds, it is probable (εκ-
τως) that I, too, am of democratic convictions, if I have finally regained
my senses. Therefore, it is fitting (εκς), if it is obvious that my attitude
toward you has been excellent, that you should be more inclined to ap-
prove my policy.
As was the case in the previous example, the last sentence of this pas-
sage begins with an εκς consideration, the first word (@στε) again im-
plying that this reflection is merely a conclusion of the foregoing nar-
rative. The democratic convictions of Leogoras, his forefather, make it
probable that Andocides himself should side with the democrats. By the
introductory Iν κα ;νεκα, the following sentence is again marked as
giving the logical result of what preceded. But again, the following εκς
merely feigns continuation of the same train of thought: its actual mean-
ing here is “it is legitimate,” “it is fitting.”
In both cases (to which other occurrences could be added),60 the
speakers use this device to manipulate their listeners. The repetition of
the word εκς and the emphasis on logical markers such as @στε or Iν
κα ;νεκα mask the fact that there is only the slightest logical connec-
59 On the question of which political fights this passage alludes to see Albini 1961,
26.
60 See, e.g., Dem. 34.40; Hyperid. 5.26; Lys. 12.27–28; Ant. Tetr. 1 δ 5.
tion between these steps. We can safely assume that this rhetorical de-
vice, which was made possible by the wide range of meanings the con-
cept εκς conveyed, was rather successful. Judges would not realize
that they were deceived by a specious reasoning. If a speaker could
prove in this way that he was supported by εκς, that εκς was on his
side, as Antiphon expressed it (τ εκς σµµαχν µο* στιν, 5, 43), this
meant that he was supported by probability as well as by justice. Of
course, this alone would never be decisive for the outcome of a trial,
but it helps explain why the Attic orators used arguments from proba-
bility so often and why Greek rhetoric paid so much attention to them.
CONCLUSION
The concept of εκς was utilized by the Attic speechwriters in various

ways to obtain various effects. Court speeches can indeed be compared
to fictional texts because their performance renders dubious the very
referentiality on which their persuasion depends. Convincing Athenian
judges that the pleadings they were listening to represented reality
certainly was no easy task. The orators employed textual strategies to
achieve this. Three such strategies have been analyzed here: (1) invok-
ing “natural” and “cultural” expectations about reality and human be-
havior, (2) the quotation of accepted maxims which lend authority to the
speaker and his claims, and (3) introducing into the presentation sig-
nificant details that work on several levels of the discourse to enhance
its credibility and emotional impact. Finally, we have seen how speech-
writers exploited the broad range of meanings of the term εκς to ma-
nipulate their audiences’ response.61
These pages are only a small contribution to an immensely wide
field. Recently, Attic oratory has risen from a long phase of neglect, and
work on these texts with modern methodologies has only just started. I
suggest that one line for future research could indeed be the question
how the speechwriters convinced their audiences by creating plausible
61 Earlier versions of this essay were presented at the University of North Carolina
at Chapel Hill and at New York University. Useful comments were made by the audience
in both instances, as well as by the anonymous referee for this Journal. Bill Race read an
earlier draft and made many helpful suggestions. I am indebted to all these colleagues and
friends.
narratives. Given the importance of εκς in the Greek judicial system,

this would teach us not only about oratory itself but also about Greek
culture at large and the way it perceived its reality.
UNIVERSITY OF FRANKFURT AM MAIN

e–mail: T.Schmitz@em.uni–frankfurt.de
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03AJP 121.

1Schmitz pp 046-077 4/6/00 2:36 PM Page 47

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS

Todorov’s tongue–in–cheek explanation refers to a concept which in

Εκς µ ν ο&ν στιν, ο( λεγοµ νου παραδε*γµατα ν τα+ς διανο*αις χου-

Anaximenes thus defines εκς as an attentiveness to the public’s as-

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 49

κα*τοι τ εκς σµµαχν µο* στιν. ο< γ ρ δ#που οEτω κακοδα*µων

4 See, e.g., Kennedy 1963, 40–41.

And yet, probability (εκς) is on my side. For I am certainly not so

This passage is typical of εκς considerations in a number of ways. Its

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 51

later rhetorical treatises such as Anaximenes’ Rhetorica ad Alexandrum

contributions to the field of study of verisimilitude and plausibility.13 In

ATTIC COURT SPEECHES AND FICTION

In the most systematic comparison of “factual” and fictional narrative

mentioned above (opening paragraph), which includes papers by T. Todorov, G. Genette,

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 53

poet Euripides or the general Lamachus. From a strictly logical point of

17 For a highly entertaining overview see Watzlawick 1976.

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 55

(all the more so in trials which featured well–known politicians). How-

reality; see Carey 1994, 97–106.

words of the text are a direct representation of the world as in itself it

26 Brinker 1983. He defines this quality as follows: “Verisimilitude may be described

as the factor by which a representation is recognized as a possible model of a given (non-

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 57

of which they can catch a glimpse (Tetr. 1 α 2, γιγνFσκοντας ο&ν =µBς

στι το*νυν /ν7γκη τος λ γχοντας  τεκµ#ρια δεικνναι δι’ Iν µφα-

On the other hand, speakers tended to disparage εκς considera-

πιστFµατα δ περ µαρτυριν µ7ρτυρας µ ν µ5 χοντι, 9τι κ τν ε-

law courts: see Wasps 560–75.

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 59

to say that Athenian judges were no less skeptical in their evaluation of

First of all, it is obvious that every narrative aiming at verisimilitude has

36 Culler 1975, 139–45 (quotation, 140).

to justify such discourse by adducing philosophical arguments” (Culler

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 61

répondent, comme autant d’applications ou de cas particuliers, à un corps de maximes

However, there is a major difference between these cases and Ge-

Hillgruber 1988, 104–20.

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 63

speeches against Demosthenes accuse his opponent of counterfeiting

Aγε+ται δ’ 9ταν τι ψεδηται τν λγων 9ρκος κατ τν /ναισχντων

The second passage is similar (indeed, it repeats some sentences of this

ο. µ ν γ ρ Gλλοι /λαζνες, 9ταν τι ψεδωνται, /ριστα κα /σαφP πει-

Aeschines’ charges show that the strategy of achieving verisimilitude by

43 For an interesting study cf. Rommel 1995.

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 65

Later (post–Aristotelian) rhetorical and poetical theory identified

44 On ν7ργεια see Zanker 1981.

47 Lys. 13.37, ο. µ ν γ ρ τρι7κοντα κ7θηντο π τν β7θρων, ο( ν$ν ο. πρυτ7νεις

καθ ζονταιD δο δ τρ7πεζαι ν τ> πρσθεν τν τρι7κοντα κε*σθην.

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 67

κα τ µ ν Gλλα κα βλασφηµ*αν χει τιν κα λ γειν ^κν#σαιµ’ Rν ν

51 Diderot developed his thoughts on “small common circumstances” producing

verisimilitude in chapter 10 of his De la poésie dramatique ([1758] 1980, 356–61).

THE MEANINGS OF ΕΙΚΟΣ

Thus far I have presented εκς in a broader context by showing that

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 69

Synodinou (1981) would distinguish two major meanings of εκς:

father’s relatives have submitted testimony. Who is likely to know that

PLAUSIBILITY IN THE GREEK ORATORS 71

Εκς µν ο&ν στιν, ο( λεγοµ νου παραδεγµατα ν τα+ς διανοαις χου-

Anaximenes thus defines εκς as an attentiveness to the public’s as-

κατοι τ εκς σµµαχν µο στιν. ο< γ ρ δ#που οEτω κακοδα*µων

And yet, probability (εκς) is on my side. For I am certainly not so

This passage is typical of εκς considerations in a number of ways. Its

στι το*νυν /ν7γκη τος λ γχοντας τεκµ#ρια δεικνναι δι’ Iν µφα-

On the other hand, speakers tended to disparage εκς considera-

πιστFµατα δ περ µαρτυριν µ7ρτυρας µν µ5 χοντι, 9τι κ τν ε-

Aγε+ται δ’ 9ταν τι ψεδηται τν λγων 9ρκος κατ τν /ναισχντων

ο. µν γ ρ Gλλοι /λαζνες, 9ταν τι ψεδωνται, /ριστα κα /σαφP πει-

44 On ν7ργεια see Zanker 1981.

47 Lys. 13.37, ο. µν γ ρ τρι7κοντα κ7θηντο π τν β7θρων, ο( ν$ν ο. πρυτ7νεις

καθ ζονταιD δο δ τρ7πεζαι ν τ> πρσθεν τν τρι7κοντα κε*σθην.

κα τ µν Gλλα κα βλασφηµ*αν χει τιν κα λ γειν ^κν#σαιµ’ Rν ν

Thus far I have presented εκς in a broader context by showing that

Synodinou (1981) would distinguish two major meanings of εκς:

? το$ µο$ πατρς πρπαππος Λεωγρας στασι7σας πρς τος τυρ7ν-

The concept of εκς was utilized by the Attic speechwriters in various

narratives. Given the importance of εκς in the Greek judicial system,