On the Mysteries (123-137)

I told him to proceed with his case and hire still more help. But if the people of Athens return a true verdict and I escape you, I warned him, you will find that it is your turn, I think, to fight for your life. And with your permission, gentlemen, I will not disappoint him. Kindly call witnesses to confirm what I have been saying.

Witnesses

But you must let me tell you how the son to whom Callias tried to have the daughter of Epilycus awarded was born and acknowledged by his father; it is quite worth hearing, gentlemen. Callias married a daughter of Ischomachus; but he had not been living with her a year before he made her mother his mistress. Was ever man so utterly without shame? He was the priest of the Mother and the Daughter; yet he lived with mother and daughter and kept them both in his house together.

The thought of the Two Goddesses may not have awoken any shame or fear in Callias; but the daughter of Ischomachus thought death better than an existence where such things went on before her very eyes. She tried to hang herself: but was stopped in the act. Then, when she recovered, she ran away from home; the mother drove out the daughter. Finally Callias grew tired of the mother as well, and drove her out in her turn. She then said she was pregnant by him; but when she gave birth to a son, Callias denied that the child was his.

At that, the woman’s relatives came to the altar at the Apaturia[*] with the child and a victim for sacrifice, and told Callias to begin the rites. He asked whose child it was. The child of Callias, son of Hipponicus, they replied. But I am he. Yes, and the child is yours. Callias took hold of the altar and swore that the only son he had or had ever had was Hipponicus, and the mother was Glaucon’s daughter. If that was not the truth, he prayed that he and his house might perish from the earth—as they surely will.

Now some time afterwards, gentlemen, he fell in love with the abandoned old hag once more and welcomed her back into his house, while he presented the boy, a grown lad by this time, to the Ceryces, asserting that he was his own son. Calliades opposed his admission; but the Ceryces voted in favour of the law which they have, whereby a father can introduce his son, if he swears that it is his own son whom he is introducing. So Callias took hold of the altar and swore that the boy was his legitimate son by Chrysilla. Yet he had disowned that same son. Call witnesses to confirm all this, please.

Witnesses

Let us just see, gentlemen, whether anything of this kind has ever happened in Greece before. A man marries a wife, and then marries the mother as well as the daughter. The mother turns the daughter out. Then, while living with the mother, he wants to marry the daughter of Epilycus, so that the granddaughter can turn the grandmother out. Why, what ought his child to be called?

Personally, I do not believe that there is anyone ingenious enough to find the right name for him. There are three women with whom his father will have lived: and he is the alleged son of one of them, the brother of another, and the uncle of the third. What ought a son like that to be called? Oedipus, Aegisthus, or what?

As a matter of fact, I want to remind you briefly, gentlemen, of a certain incident connected with Callias. As you may remember, when Athens was mistress of Greece and at the height of her prosperity, and Hipponicus was the richest man in Greece, a rumour with which you are all familiar was on the lips of little children and silly women throughout the city: Hipponicus, they said, has an evil spirit in his house, and it upsets his books.[*] You remember it, gentlemen.

Now in what sense do you think that the saying current in those days proved true? Why, Hipponicus imagined that he had a son in his house; but that son was really an evil spirit, which has upset his wealth, his morals, and his whole life. So it is as Hipponicus’ evil spirit that you must think of Callias.

Now take my other accusers, Callias’ partners, who have helped to institute this trial and have financed the prosecution. Why, I ask, did it never strike them that I was committing sacrilege during the three years which I have spent in Athens since my return from Cyprus? I initiated A— from Delphi and other friends of mine besides from outside Attica, and I frequented the Eleusinium and offered sacrifices, as I consider I have a perfect right to do. Yet so far from prosecuting, they actually proposed me for public services, first as Gymnasiarch[*] at the Hephaestia, then as head of the state deputation to the Isthmus and to Olympia,[*] and finallyas Treasurer of the Sacred Monies on the Acropolis.[*] Today, on the other hand, I commit a sacrilege and a crime by entering a temple.

I will tell you the reason for this change of front. Last year and the year before our honest Agyrrhius here was chief contractor for the two per cent customs duties.[*] He farmed them for thirty talents, and the friends he meets under the poplar[*] all took shares with him. You know what they are like; it is my belief that they meet there for a double purpose: to be paid for not raising the bidding, and to take shares in taxes which have been knocked down cheap.

After making a profit of six talents, they saw what a gold-mine the business was; so they combined, gave rival bidders a percentage, and again offered thirty talents. There was no competition; so I went before the Council and outbid them, until I purchased the rights for thirty-six talents. I had ousted them. I then furnished you with sureties, collected the tax, and settled with the state. I did not lose by it, as my partners and I actually made a small profit. At the same time I stopped Agyrrhius and his friends from sharing six talents which belonged to you.

They saw this themselves, and discussed the situation. This fellow will not take any of the public money himself, they argued, and he will not let us take any either. He will be on the watch and stop our sharing what belongs to the state; and furthermore, if he catches any of us acting dishonestly, he will bring him into the public courts and ruin him. He must be got rid of at all costs.

The prosecution were bound to behave thus, gentlemen; but you must do the opposite: for I should be happy to see you with as many men as possible like myself and to see my accusers stamped out of existence, or at least confronted by those who will not countenance their activities. Such men should show themselves staunch and impartial champions of your interests, and they will be able to serve you well, if they are willing to do so. I for one promise you either to put a stop to the practices of the prosecution and render them better citizens, or to bring such of them as are guilty of criminal behaviour into court and have them punished.

The prosecution have also found grounds for attacking me in the fact that I am a merchant who owns ships. We are asked to believe that the only object of the gods in saving me from the dangers of the sea was, apparently, to let Cephisius put an end to me when I reached Athens. No, gentlemen. I for one cannot believe that if the gods considered me guilty of an offence against them, they would have been disposed to spare me when they had me in a situation of the utmost peril—for when is man in greater peril than on a winter sea-passage? Are we to suppose that the gods had my person at their mercy on just such a voyage, that they had my life and my goods in their power, and that in spite of it they kept me safe?