Tragedy and ēthos in Andocides’ On His Return and at his later trial

Abstract

This article argues that Andocides’ speech On His Return (Andocides 2) makes use of themes drawn from tragedy, including a near-quotation from Sophocles, in order to present the orator as deserving of pity and forgiveness. This neglected speech is therefore an ingenious work of rhetoric in its creation of ēthos and evocation of pathos. Moreover, it is a key document for the development of religious argumentation in the Athenian courts, and for the early reception of Sophocles. This also affects our interpretation of the two extant speeches from Andocides’ later trial in ca. 400, Against Andocides ([Lysias] 6) and On the Mysteries (Andocides 1), which both develop similar tragic themes in new directions.

I. Introduction

The orator Andocides is best known for his involvement in the mutilation of the Herms and the profanation of the Mysteries in 415 BC, because of which he was forced to withdraw from Athens under the Decree of Isotimides.¹ He first attempted to return in 411, but was imprisoned by the Four Hundred, before departing back into exile. In On His Return (Andoc. 2), delivered between 410 and 405, he attempted unsuccessfully to secure his return by asking the Assembly to pity him and promising to supply grain.² Returning again following the amnesty of 403/2, he was prosecuted for impiety under the Decree of Isotimides in ca. 400.³ One supporting prosecution speech from this trial survives, Against Andocides ([Lys.] 6).⁴ In his defence, Andocides delivered his most famous speech, On the Mysteries (Andoc. 1), denying that he had ever committed impiety at all; acquitted, he lived at Athens for some years afterwards.⁵

In general, Andocides’ reputation as an orator has not stood high.⁶ Views of his earlier speech, On His Return, have been coloured by its known failure and, although acknowledged to display some technical skill, it has been regarded as arrogant and unconvincing.⁷ By contrast, On the Mysteries has been judged somewhat more favourably, in light of its known success.⁸ Andocides’ rhetorical techniques have not been systematically investigated, and little attention has been paid to his creation of moral character (ēthos),⁹ which Aristotle regards as one of the most central means of rhetorical persuasion alongside the evocation of audience emotion (pathos) and the probative force of the arguments made.¹⁰ The creation of ēthos has been regarded since antiquity as a central feature of the work of Andocides’ contemporary Lysias,¹¹ but the use of ēthos in other orators such as Andocides has received less attention.¹²

An aspect of Athenian oratory that has been much studied recently is the influence of tragedy.¹³ This influence comes in two main forms. Some speeches exhibit tragic colouring in language and thought; this is perhaps clearest in Antiphon’s Against the Stepmother (Antiph. 1),¹⁴ but distinctively tragic ideas and expressions are also found in Andocides, and Renaud Gagné has identified aspects of Andocides’ On the Mysteries that evoke and imitate the effect of tragedy.¹⁵ On the other hand, the speeches of Demosthenes, Aeschines and Lycurgus contain direct quotations from tragedy; this does not occur in earlier orators such as Andocides.¹⁶

However, neither ēthos nor tragic influence has received detailed investigation in Andocides’ case. By studying these features of On His Return, I hope to shed light on important and little-recognized aspects of Andocides’ persuasive technique, and to show that On His Return is a much more clever and artful speech than previously realized (section II). Understanding these features of On His Return, I suggest, also helps us to understand the treatment of similar issues in Against Andocides (section III) and On the Mysteries (section IV). Finally, I shall demonstrate that Andocides’ use of tragedy in On His Return makes it a central document for Athenian literary and cultural history, for reasons that earlier scholars have not observed (section V).

II. Tragedy and ēthos in On His Return

At the start of On His Return (Andoc. 2), Andocides’ presentation of his moral character is fairly straightforward (1–5). He denigrates his opponents, asserting that they have been put up against him by his true enemies for their willingness to give and take any kind of outrageous allegation (4–5), and states that they must be the most foolish (ἀμαθϵστάτους) of all people or the most hostile to Athens (τῇ πόλϵι ταύτῃ δυσμϵνϵστάτους) to advocate refusing Andocides’ proffered benefaction (2–3). In this rhetorical dilemma,¹⁷ both possibilities raised serve as a contrast to Andocides’ own positive ēthos. He is not so unsubtle as to state his virtue directly, but his reference to his proposed benefaction as ‘some good’ (τι … ἀγαθόν, 1) clearly implies his benevolence, while his enemies’ hostility to Athens is manifested in their unwillingness to allow Athens to enjoy his benefaction (ϵἴ τι ὑμᾶς χρὴ ἀγαθὸν ἐμοῦ ἐπαυρέσθαι, 2). Equally, Andocides’ reference to his enemies’ foolishness anticipates and facilitates his later insinuation that he is among the most prudent of men (σωϕρονέστατοι, 6). Andocides, then, by means that are not inartistic, presents himself as a prudent patriot, and his enemies as foolish and disingenuous traitors.

With this established, Andocides aims to persuade his hearers to pity him, on the grounds that his involvement in the events of 415 should be considered misfortune (συμϕοράς, 5; κακῶς πρᾶξαι, 6) rather than culpable criminality. Adopting a more complex approach to conveying a positive ēthos, Andocides now aims to present himself as a tragic figure placed in an impossible situation. Furthermore, this is calculated to evoke emotion, especially pity, in his audience; Andocides’ creation of ēthos and his evocation of pathos are closely and ingeniously interdependent here.

In this context, Andocides employs what is virtually a quotation from a speech in Sophocles’ Antigone. In this play, as in Andocides’ own circumstances, impiety is the central issue. Urging Creon to reconsider his impious refusal to bury Polynices, Teiresias makes the following memorable exhortation (Soph. Ant. 1023–28):

ταῦτ᾿ οὖν, τέκνον, ϕρόνησον. ἀνθρώποισι γὰρ

τοῖς πᾶσι κοινόν ἐστι τοὐξαμαρτάνϵιν·

ἐπϵὶ δ᾿ ἁμάρτῃ, κϵῖνος οὐκέτ᾿ ἔστ᾿ ἀνὴρ

ἄβουλος οὐδ᾿ ἄνολβος, ὅστις ἐς κακὸν

πϵσὼν ἀκϵῖται μηδ᾿ ἀκίνητος πέλϵι.

αὐθαδία τοι σκαιότητ᾿ ὀϕλισκάνϵι.

Consider this, my boy! Making mistakes is common to all people, but when a man makes a mistake he is no longer foolish or unfortunate if, once he has fallen into misfortune, he puts it right and does not remain immovable. But obstinacy makes a person look inept.

Andocides begins his appeal for the Athenians’ pity as follows (On His Return 5–6):

Ἐμοὶ δέ, ὦ ἄνδρϵς, καὶ τῷ πρώτῳ τοῦτο ϵἰπόντι ὀρθῶς δοκϵῖ ϵἰρῆσθαι, ὅτι πάντϵς ἄνθρωποι γίγνονται ἐπὶ τῷ ϵὖ καὶ κακῶς πράττϵιν, μϵγάλη δὲ δήπου καὶ τὸ ἐξαμαρτϵῖν δυσπραξία ἐστί, καὶ ϵἰσὶν ϵὐτυχέστατοι μὲν οἱ ἐλάχιστα ἐξαμαρτάνοντϵς, σωϕρονέστατοι δὲ οἳ ἂν τάχιστα μϵταγιγνώσκωσι. καὶ ταῦτα οὐ διακέκριται τοῖς μὲν γίγνϵσθαι τοῖς δὲ μή, ἀλλ᾿ ἔστιν ἐν τῷ κοινῷ πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις καὶ ἐξαμαρτϵῖν τι καὶ κακῶς πρᾶξαι.

Gentlemen, I think, as did the first man who said this, that it is rightly said that all people are born to experience good and bad fortune, that it is a great misfortune to make a mistake, and that, while the luckiest people are the ones who make fewest mistakes, the most prudent people are the ones who change their minds most quickly. And there is no distinction between the people that this happens to and the people it does not: making a mistake and suffering misfortune are common to all people.

Albert Gerhard Becker remarked in 1832 that the phrase ‘the first man who said this’ (τῷ πρώτῳ τοῦτο ϵἰπόντι) might suggest that Andocides is borrowing from a poet. However, Umberto Albini rejects this, pointing out that the phrase could equally refer to an anonymous proverb.¹⁸ This phrase, then, does not in itself demonstrate that Andocides is quoting from a poet: on the contrary, if there is such a quotation, Andocides’ choice of words designedly obscures this, hinting vaguely and reassuringly at the antiquity of what he is about to say, and presenting it as a piece of quasi-proverbial wisdom.

Nevertheless, I think a strong case can be made for proposing that Andocides is actually paraphrasing Sophocles’ Teiresias here. This is suggested by clear conceptual and verbal resemblances, which are not of the kind to be explained merely on the basis that the two authors draw on a common store of conventional ideas.

It is true that Teiresias does not explicitly say (as Andocides does) that all mortals meet with good and bad fortune. This, however, is a basic premise of the world-view of Sophoclean tragedy, which is explicitly articulated and applied to Creon elsewhere (especially at Soph. Ant. 1155–60), and which Teiresias hints may apply to Creon when he mentions falling into misfortune (ἐς κακὸν | πϵσών, 1026–27).

However, the rest of Andocides’ remarks reflect Teiresias’ speech fairly closely. When Andocides states that the luckiest people are those who make fewest mistakes but the most prudent are those who change their minds most quickly (ϵἰσὶν ϵὐτυχέστατοι μὲν οἱ ἐλάχιστα ἐξαμαρτάνοντϵς, σωϕρονέστατοι δὲ οἳ ἂν τάχιστα μϵταγιγνώσκωσι, On His Return 6), this assertion closely resembles Teiresias’ statement that a man who has made a mistake is not foolish or unfortunate if he puts it right (ἐπϵὶ δ᾿ ἁμάρτῃ, κϵῖνος οὐκέτ᾿ ἔστ᾿ ἀνὴρ | ἄβουλος οὐδ᾿ ἄνολβος, ὅστις ἐς κακὸν | πϵσὼν ἀκϵῖται μηδ᾿ ἀκίνητος πέλϵι, Soph. Ant. 1025–27).

But the clearest similarity lies in Andocides’ last sentence, where he states that it is common to all people to make mistakes. Here, Andocides’ Greek (ἀλλ᾿ ἔστιν ἐν τῷ κοινῷ πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις καὶ ἐξαμαρτϵῖν τι καὶ κακῶς πρᾶξαι, On His Return 6) follows Teiresias’ opening remark (ἀνθρώποισι γὰρ | τοῖς πᾶσι κοινόν ἐστι τοὐξαμαρτάνϵιν, Soph. Ant. 1023–24) on a word-for-word basis. The only real difference lies in Andocides’ inclusion of the words ‘and to suffer misfortune’ (καὶ κακῶς πρᾶξαι), renewing the emphasis on misfortune, which is central to his argument here. Moreover, Andocides uses the verb ‘make a mistake’ (ἐξαμαρτάνω) three times in this passage, and uses the phrase ‘all people’ (πάντϵς ἄνθρωποι, πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις) twice, suggesting that throughout the passage Andocides has in mind the sentence with which he concludes it.

It does not seem entirely plausible that such resemblances arose by coincidence, or from a common store of conventional wisdom. If the similarity between the passages lay only in one shared idea known to have been commonplace, that would be possible. However, the presence of two shared ideas cannot so readily be explained in this way, particularly when one of the two ideas (that prudent people change their minds) is not especially commonplace.¹⁹ But it is the close verbal similarities between Teiresias’ opening remark and Andocides’ last sentence, together with Andocides’ further repetition of Teiresias’ most prominent words (ἐξαμαρτάνω, πάντϵς ἄνθρωποι), that point most strongly towards direct influence.

If Andocides is borrowing from Sophocles in this way, this should not be considered surprising. Tragic influence on the Attic orators is well recognized, and Andocides’ speeches make use of a variety of tragic words and phrases.²⁰ One passage in On the Mysteries especially suggests familiarity with Sophocles’ work: when Andocides calls his accuser Epichares a ‘practised fox’ (ἐπίτριπτον κίναδος, On the Mysteries 99), it seems likely that he has borrowed this phrase directly from Sophocles’ Ajax, where Ajax applies the same insult to Odysseus (τοὐπίτριπτον κίναδος, 103).²¹ In another passage in the same speech, Andocides says that if the court condemns him, his family will perish root and branch (οὐκ ἔστιν ὑμῖν ἔτι λοιπὸς τοῦ γένους τοῦ ἡμϵτέρου οὐδϵίς, ἀλλ᾿ οἴχϵται πᾶν πρόρριζον, On the Mysteries 146); scholars have compared this with the remark of the Chorus in Sophocles’ Electra that the Atreid family has been destroyed root and branch (πρόρριζον, ὡς ἔοικϵν, ἔϕθαρται γένος, 765). It is uncertain whether Andocides borrowed πρόρριζον … γένος from Sophocles, since such a phrase could also have occurred in non-extant tragedies, but Andocides is certainly using tragic language, and even introduces a characteristically tragic verb not present in the Sophoclean passage (οἴχϵται).²²

In short, Andocides’ non-overt use of Sophoclean phrases elsewhere suggests that he is precisely the kind of writer who might half-quote Sophocles in the oblique way that I have suggested, and the parallels with Antigone seem sufficient to suggest that this may be precisely what he did. If so, we are faced with a dilemma: is Andocides’ rhetoric based on the expectation that audience members will perceive the source of the quotation, or on the expectation that they will not?

The answer, I suggest, is that Andocides composed the passage in such a way as not to require his audience to perceive the source, but nevertheless in such a way as to allow for the possibility that they might. That is to say, the effectiveness of the passage relies not on the fact that Andocides has quoted Sophocles, but rather on the power and eloquence of Sophocles’ words, which Andocides has skilfully adapted to his own case, in order to secure the audience’s sympathy and understanding, and in order to present himself as someone who realized his mistake in time rather than persisting in impiety. This does not require any knowledge of Sophocles’ Antigone on the audience’s part. Indeed, if audience members assumed (as the phrase τῷ πρώτῳ τοῦτο ϵἰπόντι will have allowed them to) that the sentiment was an ancient proverb, this might even have made the passage more convincing than it would have been if they had realized that Andocides was paraphrasing a relatively recent play.²³

Yet we cannot discount, and perhaps Andocides would not have been able to discount, the possibility that some of the audience might have detected the quotation to a greater or lesser extent. For some audience members, this may have been a matter of general reminiscence: even a hearer who did not notice the specific connection might have been swayed towards pitying Andocides upon being reminded of these typically tragic sentiments, full of gnomic authority, with which the Athenians will have been thoroughly familiar, given the prominence and public nature of the tragic art form within Athenian civic life. However, other audience members may have recognized the specific source of the quotation, and Andocides may have hoped that such hearers would associate him with the unfailing wisdom of the Sophoclean Teiresias, and with the ideas of sōphrosunē and euboulia that he articulates. Andocides may even have wanted audience members to compare him favourably with Creon, who committed an impious act and persisted in it, whereas Andocides claims to have realized his mistake in time, and therefore to be deserving of pity and forgiveness rather than condemnation.²⁴ Any audience members who identified the quotation might perhaps have identified τῷ πρώτῳ τοῦτο ϵἰπόντι as referring to Sophocles (or Sophocles’ Teiresias).

This passage, then, is written in such a way that Sophocles’ eloquent words are made to serve Andocides’ purposes whether or not the specific reference is perceived. Coming after this powerful evocation of the audience’s pity and understanding, the appeal to which Andocides immediately proceeds (On His Return 6) gains an emotional force it would wholly lack if deprived of the sentiments leading up to it:

ὧν ἕνϵκα, ὦ Ἀθηναῖοι, ϵἰ ἀνθρωπίνως πϵρὶ ἐμοῦ γιγνώσκοιτϵ, ϵἴητϵ ἂν ἄνδρϵς ϵὐγνωμονέστϵροι.

Therefore, Athenians, if you could form your views about me in a human way, you would be men of better judgement.

Andocides now proceeds to reframe his actions in 415 in terms which, though not specifically Sophoclean, are nevertheless dominated by distinctively tragic themes (On His Return 7):

οὐ γὰρ ϕθόνου μᾶλλον ἢ οἴκτου ἄξιά μοί ἐστι τὰ γϵγϵνημένα· ὃς ϵἰς τοσοῦτον ἦλθον δυσδαιμονίας, ϵἴτϵ χρὴ ϵἰπϵῖν νϵότητί τϵ καὶ ἀνοίᾳ τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ, ϵἴτϵ καὶ δυνάμϵι τῶν πϵισάντων μϵ ἐλθϵῖν ϵἰς τοιαύτην συμϕορὰν τῶν ϕρϵνῶν, ὥστ᾿ ἀνάγκην μοι γϵνέσθαι δυοῖν κακοῖν τοῖν μϵγίστοιν θάτϵρον ἑλέσθαι, ἢ μὴ βουληθέντι κατϵιπϵῖν τοὺς ταῦτα ποιήσαντας οὐ πϵρὶ ἐμοῦ μόνου ὀρρωδϵῖν, ϵἴ τι ἔδϵι παθϵῖν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸν πατέρα οὐδὲν ἀδικοῦντα σὺν ἐμαυτῷ ἀποκτϵῖναι—ὅπϵρ ἀνάγκη παθϵῖν ἦν αὐτῷ, ϵἰ ἐγὼ μὴ ἐβουλόμην ταῦτα ποιῆσαι—ἢ κατϵιπόντι τὰ γϵγϵνημένα αὐτὸν μὲν ἀϕϵθέντα μὴ τϵθνάναι, τοῦ δὲ ἐμαυτοῦ πατρὸς μὴ ϕονέα γϵνέσθαι. τί δ᾿ ἂν οὐ πρό γϵ τούτου τολμήσϵιϵν ἄνθρωπος ποιῆσαι;

What happened to me is more worthy of pity than resentment. I got into such deep misfortune—whether one should say it happened through my youth and foolishness, or through the power of those who persuaded me into such a disastrous decision—that I had no choice but to choose between two of the greatest evils. Either I could refuse to name the men who did this and tremble not only for my own sake about what was bound to happen, but also about my father being killed alongside me when he had done nothing wrong—and that would inevitably have happened to him, if I had refused to do this—or I could report what happened, in which case he would be released and would not die, and I would not become the murderer of my father. And what would a person not dare to do to avoid doing that?

Some of the resemblances with tragedy here lie simply in the register of the language used: resentment, pity, misfortune, youth, foolishness, disastrous decisions, fear, suffering and daring, though not exclusive to tragedy, are among its most central preoccupations. However, the tragic echoes are not just a matter of lexis, but colour the whole way in which Andocides asks the audience to reconceptualize his past actions. He frames them as the result of the kind of mental aberration or madness (ἄνοια, συμϕορὰ τῶν ϕρϵνῶν) that occupies such a prominent role in tragedy.²⁵ Andocides’ previous establishment of his status as a pitiable tragic figure ensures that this mental aberration also seems a pathetic misfortune, rather than a sign of the gods’ hatred for him, as the speaker of Against Andocides maintains.²⁶ But Andocides’ most ingenious use of a tragic theme is perhaps his claim to have been placed in an impossible dilemma, of the kind especially prominent in Aeschylus.²⁷ Like Agamemnon at Aulis, or Orestes returning to avenge his father, Andocides claims to have been forced into a situation where one of two alternatives was to kill a close family member, in this case his father (τοῦ … ἐμαυτοῦ πατρὸς … ϕονέα γϵνέσθαι), although he, unlike these tragic figures, managed to avoid carrying out this horrific act.

In short, then, Andocides uses every means to fit himself into the roles of tragic characters of the kind the Athenians knew from the plays of Aeschylus and Sophocles. He does this, I suggest, to persuade his audience to grant him the same kind of understanding and pity that they would normally have accorded to these characters in the theatre.

Andocides’ further development of this line of argument (On His Return 8–10) introduces no additional tragic themes, but builds upon those already introduced, in order to create a community of suffering between himself and his audience. He declares that his choice to turn informer led to lasting unhappiness for him, but immediately freed the Athenians from their danger and helplessness (κινδύνῳ τϵ καὶ ἀμηχανίᾳ) and fear of one another (σϕόδρα σϕᾶς αὐτοὺς ἐπϵϕόβησθϵ, 8). Fear, helplessness and danger, all emotions prominent in tragedy, are the same emotions that Andocides himself had experienced in his dilemma (7, quoted above); by suggesting that they shared the same emotional experience, Andocides invites his hearers to empathize with him. In this way, his presentation of his situation in tragic terms enables him to go beyond the evocation of pity, the main pathos evoked in this speech, and to induce the audience to share his fear and helplessness, rather as they might have shared the fear and helplessness of a tragic character.

The climax of this argument comes when Andocides declares that, since then, he has always been the most unfortunate of people (δυστυχέστατος … ἀνθρώπων, 9): while Athens was in peril no one was more wretched (δυσδαιμονέστϵρος), and he remained the most wretched of all (ἁπάντων … ἀθλιώτατος) when his fellow citizens were freed from danger. In fact, he says, he healed (ἰαθῆναι) the city, which was saved (σῴζϵσθαι) by him at the price of disgrace to himself (τῷ ἐμῷ αἰσχρῷ).²⁸ This, then, is the culmination of Andocides’ tragic presentation of his ēthos: he presents himself as a kind of martyr who incurred disgrace and suffering while freeing the city from it. Andocides concludes his tragic reframing of his own past by recapitulating its main themes (10): afflicted by misfortune (συμϕοράς, κακῶν) and disgrace (αἰσχρῶν), both through mental aberration (παρανοίᾳ) and through force of circumstances (ἀνάγκῃ), he decided to withdraw from Athens.

Andocides now turns to demonstrating that he has always been devoted to the Athenians’ welfare. Tragic ideas become less central here, but they resurface when he recounts how the Four Hundred turned against him (On His Return 13–16). Threatened with violence, he claims, he took refuge at the council chamber altar and, although he was disgraced in the eyes of the gods (ϵἰς γὰρ τοὺς θϵοὺς ἔχοντα ὀνϵίδη, 15), the gods pitied him more than humans did (μᾶλλον τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐοίκασι κατϵλϵῆσαι) and saved his life, although he suffered further great misfortunes while imprisoned by the oligarchs.

This passage serves to remind his hearers that he is an unfortunate man deserving of their pity, but it is Andocides’ reference to the pity of the gods that is most remarkable. Not only is this a powerful point in responding to charges of impiety (for why should men hold a man responsible for impiety more severely than the gods themselves?), but it also urges his audience to pity him by suggesting that otherwise they would be even more inexorable than the gods themselves. In addition, claiming divine pity further helps Andocides to distinguish himself from paradigmatic perpetrators of impiety (such as Creon) who persisted and were punished by the gods. By contrast, Andocides purports to have turned from impiety just in time, so that the gods pitied and spared him.

In On His Return, then, Andocides makes sophisticated use of tragic features in order to present his ēthos positively and in order to evoke pathos, especially pity, but also empathetic feelings of fear and helplessness, in his audience. We should not let the speech’s failure lead us to underrate its bold inventiveness and literary ingenuity. Yet one has to admit that Andocides’ strategy is a risky one. An audience might well have shared the reaction of many modern scholars that the speech is arrogant and unconvincing, and Andocides’ desire to be treated as though he were a tragic hero might easily seem pretentious, or even ridiculous. The speech relies heavily on the audience being swept along by Andocides’ presentation of himself as deserving of pity rather than blame, and it is perhaps not surprising that this was insufficient to exculpate him in the eyes of the Assembly, given that he does not actually contest the substance of his past crimes.

On the other hand, it is possible that Andocides’ failure owed more to external circumstances than to the nature of his speech; in particular, the Athenians may have been more hostile to him at this date than after the end of the war.²⁹ Moreover, given that On His Return was delivered to the Assembly rather than to a law-court, it may not have seemed feasible or appropriate to present an extensive denial of his guilt; in addressing a wartime Assembly meeting, it is easy to see why Andocides might have thought it a better strategy to ask the Athenians for pity and forgiveness while promising them grain.

III. Reflections of On His Return in Against Andocides

Andocides’ creation of ēthos and use of tragedy in On His Return are also important for understanding the arguments made at his trial in ca. 400. This is because the extant prosecution speech, Against Andocides ([Lys.] 6), is composed with an awareness of what Andocides said in On His Return, and aims to anticipate the kind of defence made in it. Equally, On the Mysteries, despite taking a different approach, reuses and revealingly adapts some features of On His Return’s argument.

Against Andocides, which displays a degree of religious vehemence unusual within the surviving corpus of Athenian oratory,³⁰ pictures Andocides as an epitome of impiety. Famous for his impiety throughout Greece (Against Andocides 6), Andocides is the very opposite of the Greek ideal of virtue: he inflicts no harm upon his enemies, but every kind upon his friends (7). His presence in Athens is incompatible with the survival of the city’s laws (8), which he transgresses with audacity (τόλμης, 9; ἐτόλμησϵν, 10 and 49). The gods, whom he holds in contempt (καταπϵϕρόνηκϵ τῶν θϵῶν, 10; θϵοὺς οὐ νομίζϵι, 19), often punish wrongdoers after a long delay:³¹ they have reserved his death for the present occasion, but in the meantime have already afflicted him with many terrors and dangers (δέη πολλὰ καὶ κινδύνους, 20) by leading his mind astray (19, 22, 27, 32). Worthless and foolish (πονηρότϵρος and ἀμαθέστϵρος even compared to Batrachus, who is considered πονηρότατος, 45), Andocides is a polluted sacrileger (ἀλιτήριον, 52, ἀλιτηρίου, 53) and scapegoat (ϕαρμακόν, 53).³² He deserves no pity whatsoever (3, 55). The Two Goddesses at Eleusis, whom he has wronged, always punish wrongdoers (3), and the Athenians should not imagine that, if they forget Andocides’ crimes, the gods will do so too (33).

There has been little literary discussion of Against Andocides: almost all scholarly attention has been devoted to the question of provenance. Although the speech is transmitted under Lysias’ name, it does not seem to have been written by Lysias, since the style and argumentation seem wholly un-Lysianic.³³ Most scholars agree that the speech was delivered at Andocides’ trial,³⁴ as a supporting prosecution speech focusing on the religious aspects of the case.³⁵ Some have maintained that it displays too little knowledge of the contemporary situation, or too much knowledge of what Andocides was to say in On the Mysteries, and must be a pamphlet circulated after the trial,³⁶ or a rhetorical exercise written much later.³⁷ These views seem to me to have been fully refuted by Franz Lämmli and Michele Cataudella, who present strong arguments for the priority of Against Andocides to On the Mysteries.³⁸

Cataudella’s analysis of Against Andocides is highly relevant here. Focusing on the speaker’s attempts to anticipate Andocides’ defence, he demonstrates clearly that Against Andocides is written with a knowledge of what Andocides said in On His Return, but not of On the Mysteries. That is to say, Against Andocides assumes that Andocides will claim to have freed the city from fear and confusion (Against Andocides 35) and to have provided benefactions (40): these are points strongly emphasized in On His Return (8–9, 11–12, 20–21), whereas On the Mysteries claims no benefactions, and mentions freeing Athens from fear only in passing (68).³⁹ Moreover, Against Andocides takes Andocides’ guilt entirely for granted throughout, repeatedly treating it as uncontested and generally acknowledged (3, 6, 11, 32, 55), and baldly asserts that he confesses profaning the Mysteries (ὁμολογϵῖ ποιῆσαι, in the present tense, 14; ὡμολόγησϵ, 51).⁴⁰ The speaker in no way anticipates that Andocides will deny his impiety. Instead, he urges the jurors not to pity Andocides (3, 55), presumably on the assumption that Andocides would appeal for precisely this, as in On His Return. None of this, in short, sounds remotely like the argument of someone who expected Andocides to reply that he had never committed impiety, informed or confessed (οὔτ᾿ ἐμοὶ ἠσέβηται οὐδὲν οὔτϵ μϵμήνυται οὔθ᾿ ὡμολόγηται, On the Mysteries 10).

To a large extent, then, the speaker of Against Andocides supposes that Andocides will mount essentially the same defence as in On His Return. Naturally, the speaker also suggests some other arguments that Andocides will make: he supposes that Andocides will claim that the amnesty protects him (Against Andocides 37), and will demand that the main prosecutor, Cephisius, be punished for other crimes (42). It must have seemed obvious that Andocides would mention these points, which sprang from the specific circumstances of ca. 400. However, Andocides actually only relies on the amnesty as a second line of defence (On the Mysteries 8, 90–91), placing the main emphasis on his innocence, and does not mention the agreement with the Spartans, as the speaker expects (Against Andocides 40).⁴¹ Furthermore, the speaker does not correctly anticipate Andocides’ argument concerning Cephisius, since Andocides does not propose that Cephisius should be punished, but rather that he himself should share in Cephisius’ immunity under the amnesty (On the Mysteries 92–93).⁴² Two other arguments anticipated in Against Andocides, that it is strange that he should be punished while those he informed against go free (Against Andocides 13) and that nobody will give the Athenians information if they punish an informer (43), are not made by Andocides anywhere, and must be mere speculation.⁴³ In short, the anticipations in Against Andocides are guesswork, and mistaken guesswork at that.

These considerations make the dependence of Against Andocides on On His Return clear, while proving that its author did not know On the Mysteries, since, if he anticipated Andocides’ arguments incorrectly, he cannot possibly have known what they were.⁴⁴ None of this, however, justifies Cataudella’s own hypothesis that Against Andocides is intended to be understood as a response to On His Return, and that it must be a pamphlet circulated between Andocides’ return in ca. 403 and his trial in ca. 400.⁴⁵ This suggestion is rendered implausible by the fact that On the Mysteries responds to points made in Against Andocides, which only makes sense if Against Andocides was one of the speeches against which Andocides was arguing;⁴⁶ also, the fact that Against Andocides mentions the name of one of the other prosecutors (Cephisius) is incompatible with a speech predating the trial.⁴⁷ Furthermore, a direct response to an entirely unsuccessful speech made several years previously would have had little point, whether in ca. 403 or in ca. 400.

Rather, Cataudella’s argument, combined with these considerations, demonstrates that Against Andocides was delivered at the trial. The use made of On His Return is entirely explicable on this basis. Like all prosecutors in the Athenian courts, the speaker was faced with the task of forestalling points that the defendant might put forward.⁴⁸ In this context, he might very naturally have assumed that Andocides would use similar arguments to those he had made publicly in the past; this, I suggest, is why Against Andocides is written to counteract these points.⁴⁹ Indeed, given that the speech takes Andocides’ guilt entirely for granted, the author may not have expected him to deny that he had ever committed impiety. If so, On the Mysteries may have caught Andocides’ opponents unawares by presenting an entirely unexpected defence.⁵⁰

If Against Andocides is composed with a knowledge of On His Return, it becomes possible to see its negative portrayal of Andocides partly as a response to Andocides’ presentation of a positive ēthos in the earlier speech. In general terms, that is, whereas Andocides presented himself as making a single mistake that he quickly repented, Against Andocides presents him as fundamentally impious and hated by the gods. But the speaker also turns specific themes from Andocides’ speech on their head. Whereas Andocides aimed to present himself sympathetically by saying he was afflicted by mental aberration (On His Return 7, 10), Against Andocides claims that the gods drove his mind astray because of their enmity towards him (19, 22, 27, 32). Similarly, whereas Andocides repeatedly emphasized his sufferings to arouse his audience’s pity (On His Return 5–6, 8–10), Against Andocides presents these, too, as signs of divine hatred (20). Andocides’ picture of himself as a tragic hero is replaced with an image of him as someone who, a little like Bellerophon (Hom. Il. 6.200–02), has been reduced to a life of wretched wandering (ἀλώμϵνος διάγϵι, Against Andocides 30) because of his outrageous impiety.⁵¹

It also seems possible that Against Andocides responds to On His Return in the specific use it makes of tragedy. The prominence of poetic language in Against Andocides has often been noted,⁵² and Enrico Medda suggests that it is specifically influenced by tragedy. In particular, when the speaker criticizes Andocides for failing to help Athens in the last years of the Peloponnesian War, he remarks that Andocides ‘knew that the city had got into great storm and danger’ (ἐπιστάμϵνος ἐν πολλῷ σάλῳ καὶ κινδύνῳ τὴν πόλιν γϵνομένην, Against Andocides 49). Medda compares this with Creon’s very first words in Sophocles’ Antigone: ‘Gentlemen, after shaking the affairs of the city in a great storm, the gods have set them right again’ (ἄνδρϵς, τὰ μὲν δὴ πόλϵος ἀσϕαλῶς θϵοὶ | πολλῷ σάλῳ σϵίσαντϵς ὤρθωσαν πάλιν, 162–63).⁵³ The ‘ship of state’ metaphor is commonplace throughout Greek poetry,⁵⁴ but the word for ‘storm’ (σάλος) and its cognate verb (σαλϵύω) are fairly rare, with tragic associations; the only extant fifth-century author to apply these words to the city is Sophocles (Ant. 163, OT 23–4), and there is only one other instance in the orators (Isoc. 8.95).⁵⁵ In this context, and especially since this unusual word occurs in exactly the same phrase in each case (πολλῷ σάλῳ), it seems reasonably plausible that the speaker has Sophocles’ Antigone in mind. If so, the point is clear: whereas Creon could boast that he brought the city through trouble with the gods’ help, Andocides is hated by the gods and did nothing to help his city in its hour of need.

A rather more problematic instance comes earlier in the speech, where the speaker accuses Andocides of violating the unwritten laws (Against Andocides 10):

καίτοι Πϵρικλέα ποτέ ϕασι παραινέσαι ὑμῖν πϵρὶ τῶν ἀσϵβούντων, μὴ μόνον χρῆσθαι τοῖς γϵγραμμένοις νόμοις πϵρὶ αὐτῶν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖς ἀγράϕοις, καθ᾿ οὓς Eὐμολπίδαι ἐξηγοῦνται, οὓς οὐδϵίς πω κύριος ἐγένϵτο καθϵλϵῖν οὐδὲ ἐτόλμησϵν ἀντϵιπϵῖν, οὐδὲ αὐτὸν τὸν θέντα ἴσασιν· ἡγϵῖσθαι γὰρ ἂν αὐτοὺς οὕτως οὐ μόνον τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖς θϵοῖς διδόναι δίκην.

Yet they say that Pericles once advised you concerning those guilty of impiety not only to use the written laws concerning them, but also the unwritten ones, according to which the Eumolpids expound, which nobody has ever gained the authority to destroy or dared to contradict, and they do not know who established them. For he thought that in this way they would pay the penalty not only to mortals, but also to the gods.

The description of the unwritten laws here bears a remarkable similarity to Sophocles’ Antigone.⁵⁶ Antigone says of Creon’s edict that it ‘does not possess such great strength … as to be able to overrule the unwritten and unfailing ordinances of the gods’ (οὐδὲ σθένϵιν τοσοῦτον … ὥστ’ ἄγραπτα κἀσϕαλῆ θϵῶν | νόμιμα δύνασθαι … ὑπϵρδραμϵῖν, Soph. Ant. 453–55), and she also emphasizes that they are everlasting and that nobody (κοὐδϵίς, 457) knows where they came from. The similarity, then, lies not just in the fact that unwritten laws are mentioned (ἄγραπτα … νόμιμα, νόμοις … τοῖς ἀγράϕοις), but also in the emphasis on their perpetuity and unknown origin, and above all in the notion that they cannot be gainsaid.

One might therefore think that the speaker is paraphrasing Sophocles.⁵⁷ The difficulty, however, is that the passage falls within a series of sentiments attributed to Pericles, giving rise to the possibility that Pericles actually made this very remark, and that both Sophocles’ play and Against Andocides reflect his words. However, the grammar of the two relative clauses ‘according to which the Eumolpids expound, which nobody has ever gained the authority to destroy or dared to contradict’ (καθ᾿ οὓς Eὐμολπίδαι ἐξηγοῦνται, οὓς οὐδϵίς πω κύριος ἐγένϵτο καθϵλϵῖν οὐδὲ ἐτόλμησϵν ἀντϵιπϵῖν) does not necessarily imply that the speaker intends to attribute the ideas contained in either clause to Pericles. It seems entirely possible that the clause about the Eumolpids is inserted by the speaker to relate Pericles’ remark to the immediate context. If so, he may not have wished to ascribe the description of the laws’ antiquity to Pericles, either. Also, if the speaker intended to cite Pericles’ words with any exactitude, it is perhaps difficult to see why he should use the phrase ‘they say that Pericles once advised …’ (Πϵρικλέα ποτέ ϕασι παραινέσαι …), which surely implies, and might lead an audience to expect, that he only knows or intends to report the approximate substance of Pericles’ advice.

The problem, then, is a difficult one. On the whole, however, it seems plausible that the speaker has supplemented Pericles’ remark about the unwritten laws with a paraphrase of Sophocles’ vivid description of their eternity and authority. If so, this serves to reinforce what is in any case the message of the passage: Andocides is someone who, not unlike Sophocles’ Creon, has violated the unwritten laws of the gods, and deserves to be punished by gods and mortals alike.

Overall, then, Against Andocides picks up on Andocides’ ēthos in On His Return and turns it on its head, presenting Andocides as a paradigm of impiety. It uses tragic language and ideas to do so and, if these similarities with Antigone are not illusory, it subverts Andocides’ own use of tragedy to suggest that he is sacrilegious and deserving of punishment, much like Sophocles’ Creon.

IV. Tragedy and ēthos in On the Mysteries

Perhaps partly because of the ineffectiveness of On His Return, Andocides did not adopt the same strategy in On the Mysteries (Andoc. 1). Instead of reframing his past as deserving of pity, he now denies that he committed impiety (On the Mysteries 10), stating that he was in bed with a broken collarbone and fractured skull when his companions mutilated the Herms (61–65).⁵⁸ The whole speech is couched in a much more sober and factual tone, and Andocides no longer dwells on his own misfortune or the mental aberration that he had previously claimed led to it.

However, On the Mysteries does reuse some elements of Andocides’ previous argument. In particular, he again presents the decision to reveal the truth about the conspiracy as a dilemma (On the Mysteries 57–58):

Φέρϵ δή—χρὴ γάρ, ὦ ἄνδρϵς, ἀνθρωπίνως πϵρὶ τῶν πραγμάτων ἐκλογίζϵσθαι, ὥσπϵρ ἂν αὐτὸν ὄντα ἐν τῇ συμϕορᾷ—τί ἂν ὑμῶν ἕκαστος ἐποίησϵν; ϵἰ μὲν γὰρ ἦν δυοῖν τὸ ἕτϵρον ἑλέσθαι, ἢ καλῶς ἀπολέσθαι ἢ αἰσχρῶς σωθῆναι, ἔχοι ἄν τις ϵἰπϵῖν κακίαν ϵἶναι τὰ γϵνόμϵνα· καίτοι πολλοὶ ἂν καὶ τοῦτο ϵἵλοντο, τὸ ζῆν πϵρὶ πλϵίονος ποιησάμϵνοι τοῦ καλῶς ἀποθανϵῖν· ὅπου δὲ τούτων τὸ ἐναντιώτατον ἦν, σιωπήσαντι μὲν αὐτῷ τϵ αἴσχιστα ἀπολέσθαι μηδὲν ἀσϵβήσαντι, ἔτι δὲ τὸν πατέρα πϵριιδϵῖν ἀπολόμϵνον καὶ τὸν κηδϵστὴν καὶ τοὺς συγγϵνϵῖς καὶ ἀνϵψιοὺς τοσούτους, οὓς οὐδϵὶς ἄλλος ἀπώλλυϵν ἢ ἐγὼ μὴ ϵἰπὼν ὡς ἕτϵροι ἥμαρτον.

Come then, for you should reason about the matter in a human way, gentlemen, as though you yourselves were in this situation. What would you each have done? If it had been a matter of choosing one of these two courses of action, either to die nobly or to be saved shamefully, one might say that what happened was cowardice, although even so many would have made that choice, valuing life more highly than a noble death. But the situation was the exact opposite of this: if I remained silent, I would die shamefully without having done anything impious, and would be allowing my father to be killed, as well as my brother-in-law and all those relatives and cousins, and nobody other than I would have killed them, if I refused to say that other people were to blame.

Andocides still maintains that he aimed to avoid the death of his father, but no longer places any emphasis on his own suffering, and the presence of other relatives reduces the quasi-tragic focus on avoiding parricide. As in On His Return, he asks the Athenians to consider the situation in a human way (ἀνθρωπίνως) but, instead of calling upon them to pity him, he invites them to understand his actions, asking them what they would have done in the same circumstances. Moreover, instead of presenting his situation as a dilemma between two undesirable actions (as in On His Return), he inverts this: he first sets out a possible dilemma between two undesirable actions (living shamefully or dying honourably), but then says that his dilemma was actually the exact opposite (dying shamefully or living honourably). This enables Andocides to present his action as unambiguously the right one, which seems considerably more reasonable and creditable.⁵⁹

Another kind of argument made in both On His Return and On the Mysteries is based on divine favour. However, whereas in On His Return Andocides tried to convince his audience to pity him on the grounds that he is pitied by the gods, in On the Mysteries he argues that he cannot be guilty of impiety because the gods do not view him in that light. In response to the prosecutors’ assertion that he was led astray (παραγάγοιϵν, On the Mysteries 113) by the Two Goddesses so as to place a branch on the altar at Eleusis in violation of religious law,⁶⁰ Andocides denies that he did this, but states that, if he did, the goddesses saved his life (μϵ … τοῖν θϵοῖν σϵσῷσθαι), since, if they had desired his death, they would have prompted him to acknowledge that he had placed the branch there (114). Similarly, in response to an assertion that he had shown disregard for the gods by going to sea and putting himself at their mercy after committing impiety (Against Andocides 19), he replies that, if the gods had considered themselves to have been wronged by him, they would not have allowed him and his goods to survive the voyage (On the Mysteries 137–38).⁶¹ Andocides, then, urges the audience to share the gods’ belief in his innocence, whereas previously he asked them to share the gods’ pity for his wretchedness.

Furthermore, Andocides turns his enemies’ portrayal of him back against them. As Gagné has demonstrated, he presents Callias, the apparent mastermind behind the prosecution and, as torch-bearer (δᾳδοῦχος), one of the most important Eleusinian officials, as ‘the embodiment of the tragic criminal living under a curse’.⁶² After presenting Callias through the words of another man (Cephalus) as ‘the unholiest of all men’ (πάντων ἄνδρων ἀνοσιώτατϵ, On the Mysteries 116),⁶³ he claims that Callias slept with his wife’s mother, and frames this as a kind of incest: ‘He, the most wicked of all people, lived with a mother and daughter though he was the priest of the Mother and Daughter, and kept both in his house’ (συνῴκϵι ὁ πάντων σχϵτλιώτατος ἀνθρώπων τῇ μητρὶ καὶ τῇ θυγατρί, ἱϵρϵὺς ὢν τῆς μητρὸς καὶ τῆς θυγατρός, καὶ ϵἶχϵν ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ ἀμϕοτέρας, 124). When the mother gave birth, Callias swore on oath that he was not the father, calling down destruction on himself and his family, a destruction which Andocides claims will certainly come to pass (126). After further details of Callias’ unholy behaviour, Andocides compares him to the two characters with the most notorious sex lives in the whole of tragedy: ‘Oedipus or Aegisthus? Or what should we call him?’ (Οἰδίπους, ἢ Αἴγισθος; ἢ τί χρὴ αὐτὸν ὀνομάσαι; 129).⁶⁴ In this way, Andocides brings the competing tragic characterizations in this series of speeches to a triumphant (and humorous) conclusion.

Evidently, then, Andocides adapted some arguments from On His Return to this new context. But the elimination from his own persona of the tragic element, with its focus on suffering, error and mental derangement, combined with its transferral onto his enemy, turns On the Mysteries into a fundamentally different, and considerably more convincing, work of persuasion.

V. Conclusion: the place of Andocides’ On His Return in Athenian cultural history

The interpretation of On His Return presented here is not only significant for our understanding of Andocides’ rhetorical technique and creation of ēthos, but also bears on two central issues in Athenian literary and cultural history.

Firstly, this discussion bears on the whole question of the relationship between the world-views of tragedy and oratory, especially regarding religious issues. That is to say, it is generally acknowledged that fifth-century tragedy and fourth-century oratory exhibit very different world-views, especially when it comes to the gods: in tragedy the gods’ punitive aspect is often highlighted to the extent that they seem cruel and vindictive, whereas in oratory the gods are generally seen as Athens’ benevolent protectors.⁶⁵ Furthermore, whereas in tragedy religious problems are explored in depth as central issues, religious arguments in fourth-century oratory tend to focus on demonstrating the piety or impiety of the speaker or his opponent with respect to their behaviour in religious contexts. Speculation about the gods’ motives and quasi-tragic arguments about mental aberration and suffering are generally avoided.⁶⁶ This holds true even for speeches where the specific issue of impiety is discussed, such as Lysias’ On the Olive Stump and Against Nicomachus, or Apollodorus’ Against Neaera.⁶⁷ Indeed, as Robert Parker notes, ‘When, in the fourth century, an orator mounts unaccustomed religious or emotional heights, his opponent will draw him back by an accusation of tragōdia, or sham’.⁶⁸ Among fourth-century rhetorical treatises, Aristotle’s Rhetoric leaves religious argumentation out of consideration entirely,⁶⁹ while the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum recommends a range of religious arguments which, like many of those actually found in fourth-century oratory, rely only on the most basic assumptions about the gods, such as that they are favourable towards people who honour them ([Arist.] Rh. Al. 1423b12–32), that they are responsible for good fortune (1425a20–24) and that they are cognizant of oath-breakers (1432a33–b2).

But On His Return and Against Andocides are exceptions to this bifurcation of world-views. Their ways of looking at impiety, guilt and suffering are not only tragic in a general sense, but actually seem to be influenced by tragedy, and especially by the work of Sophocles. Moreover, when we compare On His Return with On the Mysteries, we begin to get a sense of why the fourth-century orators may have avoided this kind of tragic approach. That is to say, even in rebutting accusations of impiety, On His Return, the more theologically elaborate speech, comes over as much less convincing, and was in fact unsuccessful. By contrast, On the Mysteries counteracts the prosecutors’ arguments about the gods without presenting a theologically ambitious counter-narrative, and indeed Andocides even expresses some hesitation as to whether it is appropriate to speculate about the gods’ intentions at all (ϵἴπϵρ οὖν δϵῖ τὰ τῶν θϵῶν ὑπονοϵῖν, On the Mysteries 139). In this way, Andocides is able to present himself as more reasonable than his opponents, a highly desirable effect which, perhaps, most fourth-century orators were unwilling to forgo by indulging in speculative moral and religious argumentation.

Secondly, however, the argument put forward here is important because it establishes On His Return, alongside better-known works from the same period, such as Gorgias’ Helen and the plays of Aristophanes, as one of the earliest documents attesting how the Athenians understood and reacted to tragedy in the fifth century.⁷⁰ We are familiar with Aristotle’s analysis of tragedy in terms of pity and fear (Poetics 1452a38–b1, 1452b28–1454a15), which have widely been regarded as the tragic emotions par excellence ever since.⁷¹ But if my argument is correct, Andocides perceived this too, several decades earlier.⁷² Moreover, this speech shows his awareness of some of the features recognized by modern scholars as central to Aeschylean and Sophoclean tragedy: the dilemma between killing a family member and another unacceptable alternative, the central role of mental aberration or madness, and the characteristically Sophoclean idea that misfortune and disastrous error are common to all humanity. It is helpful and reassuring to have it confirmed that much of what modern readers have found most powerful in Athenian tragedy was seen in the same light by one of Sophocles’ own contemporaries.

Andocides’ On His Return, then, may be an arrogant and unconvincing speech, but it is also an ingenious and fascinating work of literature, above all in how it manipulates ideas drawn from tragedy for persuasive effect. It is a vital document for classical Athenian cultural and literary history, and is one of our earliest sources for the ancient reception of Sophoclean drama.