‘Greek drama,’ says Jevons,[1] ‘owes its origin to religion and its development to art. It is but another way of stating this fact to say that one sign of the growth of the Greek drama was the diminution of its religious significance.’ The drama of Sophocles compared with that of Aeschylus is less theological and celestial, more human and terrestrial. From the artistic point of view it not only obeys the first alternative in the Horatian maxim[2] which we have already quoted and which prescribes adherence to traditional story; it also follows, even more closely than Aeschylean drama, the second alternative, which exalts the merit of consistency. Aristotle[3] has attributed to Sophocles a piece of self-criticism in which he asserts that he depicted his characters, ‘not as they are, but as they must be’ (οἵους δεῖ). We shall not attempt to enter into the controversy which this simple statement has evoked,[4] but we may suggest as a probable interpretation of the words that certain ideal criteria guided the characterisations of Sophocles. These criteria were, in our opinion,[5] consistency and tradition. ‘The characters of Sophocles,’ says Jevons,[6] ‘are bound up with his plots in an artistic and harmonious whole ... it is equally true that his characters depend upon his plots.’ But the plots and the characters of Sophocles were not, we think, his own invention. They were derived from pre-existing legend and tradition. If, then, Sophocles did not always represent his characters precisely as legend described them, the reason is that there were inconsistencies in the legends. To escape such inconsistencies, Sophocles sometimes had recourse to what we may term eclecticism. If, for instance, in Homer, Oedipus, after slaying his father, is said to have continued to rule over the Cadmeans,[7] Sophocles ignored this tradition because it was inconsistent with the sequel which post-Homeric legend indicated.[8] Euripides, on the contrary, often reproduced, in one and the same drama, various mutually inconsistent legends, and then introduced a deus ex machina[9] to cut the Gordian knot! Nevertheless it remains true that not only in Sophocles, but also in Aeschylus and in Euripides, the characters and the plots are to a great extent based upon pre-existing legends, and these legends are often very difficult to analyse because of the varying influences which were derived from the ages through which they passed. If religion is less prominent in Sophocles than in Aeschylus, the reason, we think, is that the personality of the dramatist selected those varieties of legends which emphasised the human element rather than the divine. But, for an Athenian of the classical period, there was one aspect of human nature which was always interesting and could never be ignored, namely the relation of man to the laws of the society in which he lived. Fear of the laws and of the penalties which they prescribed, a knowledge of the laws and their administration, a habit of legal casuistry, an almost morbid delight in legal problems, were essential elements of Athenian psychology. To say this is to imply that the Sophoclean drama, like that of Aeschylus, has an important legal interest, and cannot be made completely intelligible without an analysis of its legal aspect. Of the seven extant tragedies, six are concerned with themes of human bloodshed. These six plays we shall now briefly examine, from the standpoint of homicide law. With the Philoctetes we have not any special concern.

The ‘Electra’

The plot of the Electra corresponds, in the main, with that of the Choephoroe of Aeschylus. It is regrettable that we do not possess the companion plays in which Sophocles represented, dramatically, the murder of Agamemnon and the trial of Orestes, but we may infer from the similarity of the Electra to the Choephoroe that these plays followed the Aeschylean model. We have said[10] that the trial of Orestes at Athens for the slaying of his mother at Argos is not legally intelligible unless we assume that Orestes fled to Athens with the intention of residing there, in the event of acquittal, until such time as the avenging Erinnyes permitted his return to Argos. But there is no evidence for this assumption in the Homeric story,[11] which merely implies that Orestes came from Athens to avenge his father’s death. Aeschylus, therefore, is following the Attic legend rather than Homer when he suggests that Orestes went to Athens after, not before, he slew his mother, and that it was from Phocis, not from Athens, that the avenging Orestes came. In Sophocles also it is from Phocis that Orestes comes. Moreover, we are definitely told that Phocis had been the place of Orestes’ exile since his expulsion from Argos.[12] With Athens, then, Orestes was not associated before he slew his mother! Aeschylus is not quite so precise upon this point, but from the words which Orestes utters when he arrives at Athens[13] after he had slain Clytaemnestra and Aegisthus, we cannot infer that he had ever been there before. Sophocles, therefore, and Aeschylus seem equally to have ignored an important element of the Homeric narrative in their close adhesion to the Attic legends, in which the trial of the matricidal Orestes at Athens was an outstanding essential fact. The only reason which we can suggest for this strange omission is the fact that in post-Homeric times the legend was so completely permeated by the dominant figure of Apollo that Phocis, not Athens, came to be regarded by certain legend-makers as the natural refuge and place of residence of Orestes before he slew his mother. It is not, of course, altogether impossible to suppose that Orestes had lived for a time in Phocis, and for a time at Athens. The command of Apollo could have been issued to a pilgrim from Athens as well as to a resident of Phocis. But it is strange that Aeschylus and Sophocles do not emphasise this point. The story of Orestes’ trial at Athens must, we think, have been based, if the legend-makers had any care for legal issues, on the assumption that Orestes intended to reside at Athens after he had slain his mother. This assumption is implied in the story that an Apolline oracle directed him to Athens for trial. The Homeric narrative does not justify though it is not inconsistent with such an assumption. If therefore this narrative was ignored by Attic legend-makers, it must have been because the prestige of Apollo had obscured the Homeric story in a variant of the legend which we may call the Phocian legend of Orestes, and because this variant, though not originally identical with the Attic legend, became nevertheless at some time fused with it.

If we happened to possess the non-extant drama which contained Sophocles’ account of the trial of Orestes, we feel sure that the plea of Orestes would have been identical with the Aeschylean plea, namely that of justifiable matricide. Thus, in the Sophoclean Electra Orestes says[14]:

The post-Homeric doctrine of pollution appears in the following words of Electra, who sees in the cohabitation, within her home, of two polluted murderers a horrible crime which well-nigh obscures their incestuous adultery.[15]

The atmosphere of ‘private execution’ which characterised the Homeric age and the earliest stratum of the pollution era is faithfully retained. Orestes is the sole avenger: without him there is little hope of vengeance. Electra may strike, in the last resort, but not before she has despaired of the return of Orestes. The deed of blood is calmly executed by Orestes, whose conscience is salved by the command of Apollo. The Chorus do not condemn the act. They have looked forward to it.[16] Thus they say[17]:

The desire of Electra that Aegisthus should not be buried is clearly derived from the historical custom, for which Plato is our sole authority,[18] of refusing burial to wilful murderers and especially to kin-slayers[19] such as Aegisthus was. The Homeric account[20] is here of necessity abandoned. Electra says[21]:

The Sophoclean Erinnyes are even more ‘Homeric,’ and therefore less ‘tragic,’[22] than the Aeschylean Erinnyes. In Sophocles we do not find any reference to the Erinnyes of the slain Clytaemnestra. This is perhaps because he conceived Orestes’ act as clearly and unmistakably the act of a just avenger. Hence Electra prays[23]:

But Sophocles shares with his brother-dramatists two ideas which we have ascribed[24] to post-Homeric times, namely the notion of an ancestral curse and the notion of the blood-thirst of the dead, as is manifest from the following lines[25]:

To the post-Homeric period we have also ascribed[24] the custom of μασχαλισμός, or mutilation of the limbs of the dead, which is mentioned in this play,[26] as it also is in the Choephoroe of Aeschylus.[27] The ‘sacrifice’ of Iphigeneia is also referred to in the Electra. It is not described in detail, nor is it boldly emphasised, as it is in Aeschylus.[28] But it is mentioned as an argument by which Clytaemnestra seeks to seduce Electra from her desire for vengeance.[29] Since Agamemnon was a murderer, she argues, surely his death need not be avenged. In her reply, Electra utters a sentiment which at first sight seems inconsistent with her general attitude in the play; she says[30]:

What, we may ask, is the meaning of the ‘precedent’ to which Electra refers? Does it mean that no individual should have the right to take human life? Does it imply a condemnation of ‘private vengeance’ as distinct from social justice? We do not think that the ‘precedent’ which Electra mentions refers to private vengeance. We have seen[31] that, amongst the Homeric Achaeans, there was a distinction, vague and unwritten, but none the less real, which was enshrined in a public opinion of the caste, the distinction between murder and vengeance. The act of Agamemnon in sacrificing Iphigeneia (if we suppose for the moment that the sacrifice actually took place) would not have been regarded by the Achaeans as an act of murder. But the act of Clytaemnestra in slaying her husband would have been, and was, regarded as murder, and Orestes was conceived as a just avenger. Hence, in this play, when Clytaemnestra sets herself up as an isolated authority on questions of right and wrong in matters of homicide, she is violating what must have been an established precedent in the Achaean society. It is, we think, to some such precedent as this that Electra here refers. To suppose that Electra is referring to the precedent of ‘private vengeance’ would be to attribute an inconsistent and illogical character to Electra, for is she not whole-heartedly scheming to accomplish what, on this hypothesis, she verbally condemned?

Finally, Sophocles does not attribute to Electra, or perhaps even to Pylades, any actual share in the act of vengeance. In this he follows Aeschylus, whose object it was to make Orestes the central figure in the drama. Euripides, however, we shall see, suggests that the act of vengeance was, so to speak, ‘partitioned’ amongst three avengers. Both Electra and Pylades have to suffer punishment, as well as Orestes. Perhaps Euripides is following a legend which, while admitting a degree of guilt, sought to lessen the guilt by dividing it. This version Sophocles does not follow, nor does Aeschylus. But Pylades had been too long and too well established in the post-Homeric story to be omitted or ignored. He had come into the story almost as early as Apollo, for he is mentioned in a cyclic epic[32] by Agias of Troezen which belongs to the middle of the eighth century B.C. The connexion of Orestes with Pylades and with Phocis, rather than with Athens, belongs, probably, to the Phocian variant of the Oresteian story. This version was older, we think, than the Argive legend which we shall find in the Orestes of Euripides, and it was also probably older[33] than the Attic legends which emphasised the trial of Orestes at the Areopagus. The Attic legend-makers should at least have followed the Homeric saga which suggested the connexion of Orestes with Athens before his act of vengeance; and if neither they nor the Attic dramatists refer to such a connexion, this must be attributed to the fact that the famous friendship of Pylades and Orestes and the famous purgation of Orestes at Delphi had in course of time obscured, in a fusion of legends, the previous association of Orestes with Athens, a fact which Apollo had not forgotten when he directed him to that State for trial and acquittal.

The ‘King Oedipus’

We have already mentioned[34] the Homeric legend of Oedipus, and the difficulties which it presents to the legal analyst. Homer[35] appears to think it strange that a parricide should have continued to rule in his native land. He hints that the dreadful deed was punished in the first instance by pain and suffering, and later by ‘pains full many’ such as the Erinnyes of a mother bring to pass. The story is complicated by the addition of the crime of incest, just as the story of Orestes is, to a less extent, complicated by the addition of adultery. We have suggested[36] that in pre-Homeric times the deed of Oedipus was already regarded, by Pelasgians, as at least involuntary parricide, and perhaps also, because of the provocative action of Laius, as quasi-involuntary homicide; and we have attributed the wonder which is expressed by Homer at Oedipus’ continued rule in Thebes to the absence, amongst the Achaean caste, of the distinction between voluntary and involuntary slaying. In post-Homeric times the notion of an ancestral curse was added to the story, and also, if it was not already in the legend, the idea of provocation on the part of Laius. Furthermore, the pollution doctrine was applied to the legend, and Apollo was appealed to as the sole judge of guilt, as he was, we think, appealed to in the Phocian legend of Orestes.[37] It is strange that Attic legend-makers did not seek to connect Oedipus with the Areopagus court, seeing that he was said[38] to have been buried in Attica and to have been given a refuge there before his death.

We have seen[39] that Orestes was tried by the Areopagus, on a plea either of justifiable or of quasi-involuntary matricide, according to the different versions of the Attic legends. In the ‘second Attic legend,’ which is based on the plea of quasi-involuntary matricide, for which Orestes claimed that the penalty had already been paid, the Areopagus functions as a ‘court of reconciliation’ rather than as an ordinary homicide court. In the case of Oedipus there is a suggestion, in the Oedipus Coloneus,[40] of an informal trial of Oedipus on the part of Theseus, King of Athens. It was probably a legendary reference to his trial by Theseus which prohibited any connexion of Oedipus with the Areopagus.

In the present play Apollo threatens to send a plague upon Thebes if the Thebans do not search for and punish the murderer of Laius. The penalty which is mentioned by the oracle is of a general kind, that is, it does not definitely imply that the crime was parricide—such an implication would have militated against the development of the drama—but it assumes that the slaying of Laius was an act of wilful murder. Thus Kreon says[41]:

It is of course possible to maintain that a penalty which permitted the option of death or exile was the punishment of parricide in the early stages of the ‘pollution system,’ though such an option was not permitted for kin-slaying in Attic law. We have suggested[42] that it was not the pollution doctrine which of itself abolished private execution, and exile was permitted, as we think,[43] until private execution was abolished. It is therefore legally possible that a legend of the early pollution era contained such an oracular penalty for parricide, in days when political synoekism had not yet established State execution. We might be inclined to interpret in this way the description of the oracle which is given—but only at the end of the play!—by Oedipus himself[44]:

and he requests Kreon to execute the penalty[45]:

But we cannot suppose that the word ‘parricide’ which is here used by Oedipus was actually mentioned by the oracle, as, if it had been, the greatest tragedy of ancient literature, the King Oedipus of Sophocles, could never have been written. The whole dramatic evolution of the plot depends on the suppression of the murderer’s identity. The Thebans would not have understood such a description, seeing that, so far as they knew, Laius had no living child. Jevons refers to a dramatic characteristic which may help to explain this difficulty, namely the ‘irony of Sophocles.’ He says[46]: ‘For the full appreciation of the irony of Sophocles ... it must be remembered that whereas the torturing contrast between the condition of Oedipus as he fancies it, and as it really is, is only discovered by Oedipus at the last moment, this contrast is perpetually present from the beginning to the spectator.’ Oedipus implies that Kreon had used the word ‘parricide’ when speaking to him in connexion with the oracle. When Kreon replies[47] ‘Ay, so ’twas spoken,’ are we to interpret the answer literally? If Kreon had known the truth, he would have been compelled by religious fear to declare it. The character of Kreon, as revealed in the Oedipus Coloneus and in the Antigone, is that of a loyal and religious citizen rather than that of a loyal kinsman. Hence we must either suppose that this reference to parricide is a dramatic slip, an instance in which the Sophoclean ‘irony’ overreached itself, or we must suppose that Oedipus and Kreon have incorrectly interpreted the oracle in the tragic excitement brought about by the dramatic developments of the plot. From the legal standpoint we consider it most probable that the oracular declaration of the penalty was of a non-committal character. Hence it is that when Kreon discovers the true facts of the case he decides to consult the oracle again before taking any action. To Oedipus’ request to drive him from the land, he replies[48]:

Does Kreon then anticipate that the second consultation of the oracle will elicit a severer penalty, namely death without the option of exile, which was the historical penalty for parricide, or is he well aware that the act of Oedipus, committed in ignorance of Laius’ identity, was, at worst, wilful murder, and, if he hesitates to decree a penalty of perpetual exile, is it because he is aware that the act was provoked by Laius and was therefore quasi-involuntary? The answer to these questions cannot be found in the King Oedipus drama. The play ends while the homicide penalty of Oedipus is still undecided. We do not connect with the death of Laius the self-blinding of Oedipus or the suicide of Jocasta. These events, which are referred to explicitly or implicitly by Homer,[49] we connect rather with the crime of incest. The legal analysis of the story is complicated not only by the presence of this crime, but also by the post-Homeric doctrine of the ancestral curse in the house of Laius. But we hope to elicit from the companion play, the Oedipus at Colonus, a more satisfactory account of the legal aspect of the legend.

The ‘Oedipus at Colonus’

Already, in the preceding play, we have been informed by Oedipus that his act was not only not wilful parricide but was not even wilful homicide. Describing the fatal scene, Oedipus said[50]:

When the full revelation of his accursed destiny came home to Oedipus, he was so overwhelmed with grief, remorse and terror that he became for the time insane. But in the Oedipus Coloneus he has once more regained his reason. He argues[51] with himself and with others as a rational Theban or Athenian of the historical era. What, he asks, was his crime? The guilt lies with the Curse and the Fates who accomplished it. Has he committed incest? No, for he did not know that his wife was his mother. Why, therefore, should he be punished? One crime only has he committed, yet not with malice and deliberation. He had slain an old man ‘with dark locks just sprinkled o’er with grey,’[52] and this old man was no slave or serf, but a free man and a prince. For this deed, according to Greek law, Oedipus must become an exile. But was the exile to last for ever? We have quoted from Plato[53] what we believe to have been the Greek legal penalty for slaying in a passion, namely a period of exile which sometimes extended to two, and sometimes to three, years, according to the degree of malice in the act. But we have argued that in such cases the duration of the exile depended in theory, if not in practice, on the consent of the relatives of the slain. Now Plato says that in no circumstances, not even in self-defence, was it lawful for persons to slay their parents.[54] Hence the legal position of Oedipus is a complex one. Objectively, he was guilty of wilful parricide; subjectively, he pleaded guilty to extenuated homicide. Such complex issues were not provided for in ancient law, not even in Plato’s penal code.

If therefore we find that Euripides[55] speaks of Oedipus as ‘imprisoned’ in Thebes, and that Sophocles speaks of Oedipus as an exile in Athens, and mentions also a projected arrangement by which Oedipus might live near Thebes—not in it, but just outside it[56]—may we not see in these accounts the efforts of legend-makers to keep their creations in harmony with legal facts, and may we not suppose that their failure to agree with one another, and especially with the Homeric narrative, was due to the twofold aspect, subjective and objective, of the deed of Oedipus? The Homeric account of the subsequent rule of Oedipus at Thebes could only be retained, in the ‘pollution’ era, by assuming that his act was not parricide, but homicide, that it was not wilful, but quasi-involuntary, and that the kinsmen of Laius unanimously consented to his return from temporary exile. If his act was conceived, objectively, as parricide, it would have been necessary to assume (1) that Laius ‘forgave’ him before he died and (2) that his kinsmen consented to his return. But no legend suggests that Laius forgave his slayer. Furthermore, the legends seem to have emphasised the fact that the kinsmen of Laius were not unanimous in consenting to the return of Oedipus. Hence the Homeric story of his continued existence at Thebes had, in the ‘pollution’ era, to be abandoned.

In the Oedipus Coloneus Oedipus protests against his continued banishment from home, because, he maintains, his deed was involuntary. Thus, he says[57]:

Kreon, coming to Athens from Thebes, invites Oedipus to his home, not only on his own behalf, but on behalf of the citizens of Thebes[60]:

But Oedipus does not regard this attitude as sincere. Previously, Ismene, his daughter, had warned him that Kreon would come:

In the opinion of Ismene, Oedipus can never return to his home; she says[63]:

This statement interprets the act of Oedipus as parricide rather than as homicide, for, assuming that the act was quasi-involuntary, the removal of pollution required, in the former conception, the forgiveness of the dying, whereas in the latter conception it required only the consent of the relatives to ‘appeasement.’ Ismene implies that, whatever attitude Kreon and the other relatives of Laius adopt, Oedipus can never return, because Laius has not forgiven his slayer.

Kreon betrays a similar attitude of mind when he says[64] to Theseus that he did not think the citizens of Athens would give refuge to ‘a man incestuous and a parricide....’ He says:

We have seen that in international Greek law exile was not permitted for wilful parricide or, more generally, for wilful kin-slaying, and therefore no State could open its doors to such slayers. But for involuntary or extenuated kin-slaying exile was recognised by law, and therefore whenever a foreign kin-slayer applied to be admitted as an exile into any State it was necessary to hold an inquiry, in order to discover whether his deed of blood was voluntary or involuntary, before admitting him to civic and religious communion. The attitude of Kreon in the last speech is, we believe, a rhetorical exaggeration, for it implies that in his opinion Oedipus was a wilful kin-slayer of full guilt, and it is legally incompatible with his previous proposal to escort Oedipus to his home. Polyneices, the son of Oedipus, promises[65] the same boon, if Oedipus will only forgive him and help him in his conflict with Eteocles. But Oedipus refuses to forgive his unfilial son and launches his curse against him, because he and his brother and his uncle are the cause of his continued exile[66]:

Thus, if we make due allowances for rhetorical deceptions, we may conclude that, except in the mind of Oedipus himself, his act was regarded as voluntary rather than as involuntary: the oracle of Apollo took, on the whole, the same view, but made some allowance for the element of provocation in the act. Long before, it had foretold that Oedipus would not return to reign in Thebes or to die there, but that in Athens he would find rest and asylum. Oedipus quotes the oracle[67]:

There is reference in this quotation to a shrine of the Semnai Theai in the deme Colonus. It was at this shrine that Oedipus appeared as a suppliant for asylum and it was here that he had to submit to a ceremonial of ‘cleansing’ which we have already referred to[68] as a minor local purgation. This ceremonial was probably applied to all foreign homicide exiles who claimed the privilege of residing in a State. Orestes does not require it when he arrives at Athens, because he has not yet been tried and convicted, because Apollo has commanded him to go to Athens, and because Apollo has purged him of his guilt. The purgation ceremony in the Oedipus Coloneus was similar to that which Croesus administered to the Phrygian kin-slayer, as Herodotus[69] records. We have said[70] that, in cases of kin-slaying, some kind of inquiry, an informal trial, was held to investigate the question of guilt. The Athenians[71] here do not at first accept the plea of Oedipus, but refer the matter to the decision of Theseus, King of Athens. It is ultimately upon the word of Apollo that Theseus grants him protection.[72]

Within the precincts of the shrine of the Semnai Theai, there was, in the time of Pausanias, a tomb which was called the tomb of Oedipus. Pausanias[73] does not believe the story of Sophocles that Oedipus died and was buried in Attic soil. Does not Homer,[74] he argues, prove that Oedipus was buried at Thebes? Yet the tomb of Oedipus was to be seen in the shrine of the Semnai! Pausanias inquired about this curious contradiction, and he discovered, as he thinks, the solution. The bones of Oedipus were, he says, transferred from Thebes to Athens! Nothing could better illustrate the credulity of the ancients and their want of historical logic. Oedipus was, in all probability, buried at Thebes. According to Homer,[75] he never left that city. But the doctrine of pollution, which was applied retrospectively to Oedipus, insisted that he did leave Thebes and that he could never return to it. Plato implies that a person who was stained with kindred bloodshed—even extenuated kin-slaying—could never be buried in the tomb of his fathers. To Corinth Oedipus did not return. To Phocis he could not go, for it was there that the deed of blood was wrought, and we have seen[76] that a foreign slayer could never return, whether his act was voluntary or involuntary, to the State in which the act occurred. As a blind exile could not be expected to go very far from home, the natural place for the exile of Oedipus was the Attic land beyond Cithaeron. Thither legend brought him, to constitute a further link in the eternal friendship between Thebes and Athens! In the time of Demosthenes,[77] just before the battle of Chaeronea, the Athenian reception of Oedipus was put forward as an argument for the alliance of Thebes and Athens. In Attica legend said that he was buried, and his tomb was there for everyone to see. But he could not have been buried in Attica, since, according to Homer, he was buried at Thebes. To reconcile Homer with later legend, it was necessary therefore to suppose that the bones of Oedipus were transferred from Thebes to Athens. Pausanias, however, unfortunately failed to see that, according to this hypothesis, the whole structure which post-Homeric legends of the ‘pollution’ era built round the name of Oedipus topples to the ground. The explanation lies in the evolution of the legend. The legend which Sophocles followed is absolutely incompatible with Homer; and this was the ordinary and, so far as we know, the only legend of the death of Oedipus which existed in post-Homeric days.

The ‘Antigone’

In the Antigone drama, which is rightly famous not only for its dramatic art, but also for the problems which it presents and the conflicts of human passion which dominate it, there is no plain, direct and obvious matter for the student of homicide law. But there are points of interest on the borderland of homicide which cannot be entirely omitted. It is easy for the adverse critic to assert that in this play we find reference to civil war, to suicide, to judicial execution, and to quarrels about burial, but we find no reference to homicide. We venture to suggest that fratricide in civil war, judicial executions of which the justice is called in question, and suicide, are very closely related to homicide by the similarity, if not the community, of their nature. Lysias[78] tells how, in the political crises at Athens, men were prosecuted, sentenced, and executed as murderers who had merely acted as informers, or as we should say ‘secret service’ agents, in regard to that vague political crime which is called treason. According to Pausanias,[79] the Athenians accepted as a foundation legend for the Delphinium homicide-court the story that Theseus pleaded justification for having slain, in civil war, Pallas and his sons who were his kinsmen. Again, suicide and homicide, as they appear in drama, may be closely related, since Teucer was punished by his father, Telamon, because of the suicide of his half-brother, Ajax.[80] He was even said to have been tried for this deed, for the story of his trial is solemnly told by Pausanias[81] when he is describing the origin of the Attic murder-court Phreatto. In the Antigone the judicial execution of Antigone by Kreon is assailed as murder by his son, Haemon. The messenger describes how Haemon attempted to slay Kreon in revenge[82]: