On the Mysteries (19-30)

Witnesses

Now that you have heard the facts, gentlemen, and the witnesses have confirmed them for you, let me remind you of the version of those facts which the prosecution had the effrontery to give—for after all, the right way to conduct a defence is to recall the statements of the prosecution and disprove them. According to the prosecution, I myself gave information in the matter of the Mysteries and included my own father in my list of those present: yes, turned informer against my own father. I cannot imagine a more outrageous, a more abominable suggestion. My father was denounced by Pherecles’ slave, Lydus: it was I who persuaded him to remain in Athens instead of escaping into exile—and it was only after numberless entreaties and by clinging to his knees that I did so.

What, pray, was I about in informing against my father, as we are asked to believe that I did, when at the same time I was begging him to remain in Athens—begging him, that is, to let me be guilty of the consequences to himself? Again, we are to suppose that my father himself consented to face a trial which was bound to have one or other of two terrible results for him; if my information against him was deemed true, his blood would be upon my hands: if he himself was acquitted, mine would be upon his; because the law ran that whereas an informer’s claim to immunity should be allowed if his information were true, he should be put to death, if it were not. Yet if there is one thing of which you are all certain, it is the fact that my father and I both escaped with our lives. That could not have happened, if I had informed against my father: either he or I would have had to die.

Then again, assume that he actually desired to stay. Do you imagine that his friends would have let him do so? Would they have gone bail for him? Would they not have urged him to change his mind? Would they not have begged him to find some place of refuge abroad, where he would be out of harm’s way himself and would avoid causing my death also?

But to return to facts: when prosecuting Speusippus for making an illegal proposal, one thing upon which my father insisted repeatedly was that he had never visited Pherecles at Themacus in his life; and he offered the defence the opportunity of examining his slaves under torture[*]; those who were ready to hand over their slaves, he said, ought not to meet with a refusal of the test which they were proposing, when those who were not ready to hand them over were forced to do so. You all know my father’s challenge to be a fact. Now if there is any truth in the prosecution’s assertion, what had Speusippus to reply but: Why talk of slaves, Leogoras? Has not your son here informed against you? Does not he say that you were at Themacus? Andocides, prove your father guilty, or your chance of a pardon is gone. Was that Speusippus’ natural retort or not, gentlemen?

I for one think so. In fact, if I ever entered a court, if I was ever mentioned in connexion with the affair, or if there is any recorded information or list containing my name, let alone any for which I was myself responsible, anyone who wishes is welcome to step up here and prove it against me. For my own part, I have never known anyone tell so outrageous or so unconvincing a story. All that was necessary, they imagined, was sufficient effrontery to bring a charge; the possibility of their being refuted did not disturb them in the least. Be consistent, then.

Had this accusation of theirs been true, your anger would have fallen upon me, and you would have considered the severest penalty justified. So now that you see them to be lying, I demand that you look upon them instead as scoundrels—and with good reason too: for if the worst of their charges are shown to be conspicuously false, I shall hardly find it difficult to prove the same of those which are less serious.

Such, then, were the informations lodged in connexion with the Mysteries; they were, as I say, four in number. I have read you the names of those who went into exile after each, and the witnesses have given their evidence. I shall now do something more to convince you, gentlemen. Of those who went into exile as a result of the profanation of the Mysteries, some died abroad; but others have returned and are living in Athens. These last are present in court at my request.

Any of them who wishes is welcome to prove, in the time now allotted to me,[*] that I was responsible for the exile of any of their number, that I informed against any of them, or that the various groups did not go into exile in consequence of the particular informations which I have described to you. If I am shown not to be speaking the truth, you may punish me as you will. I shall now interrupt my defence and give place to anyone who wishes to step up here.

And now, gentlemen, what followed? After the various informations had been laid, the question of rewards arose: for Cleonymus’ decree had offered one thousand drachmae, and Peisander’s ten.[*] Conflicting claims were made by the informers I have mentioned,[*] by Pythonicus, on the ground that he had first brought the matter before the Assembly, and by Androcles, who urged the part played by the Council.

It was therefore publicly resolved that such members of the court of the Thesmothetae[*] as were initiates should be presented with the informations of the several claimants and decide between them. As a result the principal reward was voted to Andromachus, the second to Teucrus; and at the festival of the Panathenaea[*] Andromachus received ten thousand drachmae and Teucrus one thousand. Kindly call witnesses to confirm this.

Witnesses

So much for the profanation of the Mysteries, gentlemen, on which the information lodged against me is based and which you are here as initiates to investigate. I have shown that I have committed no act of impiety, that I have never turned informer, that I have never admitted guilt, and that I have not a single offence against the Two Goddesses[*] upon my conscience, whether serious or otherwise. And it is vitally important for me to convince you of this; for the stories told you by the prosecution, who treated you to so shrill a recital of bloodcurdling horrors, with their descriptions of past offenders who have made mock of the Two Goddesses and of the fearful end to which they have been brought as a punishment—what, I ask you, have such tales and such crimes to do with me?

It is I, in fact, who am much more truly the accuser, and they the accused. They have been guilty of impiety; and therefore, I maintain, they deserve death. I, on the other hand, have done no wrong, and therefore I deserve to go unharmed. It would be nothing less than monstrous to vent upon me the wrath which the misdeeds of others have aroused in you, or to let the malicious attack to which I have been subjected weigh more with you than the truth, when you know that it is my enemies who are responsible for it. Obviously anyone who was guilty of an offence such as that with which we are concerned could not clear himself by denying that he had committed it: for the scrutiny to which a defendant’s statements are subjected is formidable indeed when the court already knows the truth. But to me the inquiry into the facts is the very opposite of embarrassing; I have no need to resort to entreaties or appeals for mercy to gain an acquittal upon a charge such as this: I have merely to show the absurdity of the statements of my accusers by reminding you of what actually occurred.