Religious Discourse in Attic Oratory and Politics 2020023785, 9781138570863, 9780203703151

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Religious Discourse in Attic Oratory and Politics

The book offers a critical investigation of a wide range of features of religious discourse in the transmitted forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of the Ten Attic Orators, a body of 151 speeches which represents the mature flourishing of the ancient art of public speaking and persuasion. Serafim focuses on how the intersections between such religious discourse and the political, legal and civic institutions of classical Athens help to shed new light on polis identity-​building and the construction of an imagined community in three institutional contexts –​the law court, the Assembly and the Boulē:  a community that unites its members and defines the ways in which they make decisions. After a full-​scale survey of the persistently and recurrently used features of religious discourse in Attic oratory, he contextualizes and explains the use of specific patterns of religious discourse in specific oratorical contexts, examining the means or restrictions that these contexts generate for the speaker. In doing so, he explores the cognitive/​emotional and physical/​sensory reactions of the speaker and the audience when religious stimuli are provided in orations, and how this contributes to the construction of civic and political identity in classical Athens. Religious Discourse in Attic Oratory and Politics will be of interest to anyone working on classical Athens, particularly its legal institutions, on ancient rhetoric, and ancient Greek religion and politics. Andreas Serafim is a Research Fellow at the Research Centre for Greek and Latin Literature of the Academy of Athens. He is the author of a previous monograph, Attic Oratory and Performance (Routledge 2017).

Routledge Monographs in Classical Studies

Titles include: Animals in Ancient Greek Religion Edited by Julia Kindt Classicising Crisis The Modern Age of Revolutions and the Greco-​Roman Repertoire Edited by Barbara Goff and Michael Simpson Epigraphic Culture in the Eastern Mediterranean in Antiquity Edited by Krzysztof Nawotka Proclus and the Chaldean Oracles A Study on Proclean Exegesis, with a Translation and Commentary of Proclus’ Treatise On Chaldean Philosophy Nicola Spanu Greek and Roman Military Manuals Genre and History Edited by James T. Chlup and Conor Whately Illiterate Geography in Classical Athens and Rome Daniela Dueck Religious Discourse in Attic Oratory and Politics Andreas Serafim For more information on this series, visit: www.routledge.com/​Routledge-​Monographs-​in-​Classical-​Studies/​ book-​series/​RMCS

Religious Discourse in Attic Oratory and Politics Andreas Serafim

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Andreas Serafim The right of Andreas Serafim to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Serafim, Andreas, author. Title: Religious discourse in Attic oratory and politics / Andreas Serafim. Other titles: Routledge monographs in classical studies. Description: New York : Routledge, 2020. | Series: Routledge monographs in classical studies | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “The book offers a critical investigation of a wide range of features of religious discourse in the transmitted forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of the Ten Attic Orators, a body of 151 speeches which represents the mature flourishing of the ancient art of public speaking and persuasion”– Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2020023785 | ISBN 9781138570863 (hardback) | ISBN 9780203703151 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Oratory, Ancient–History and criticism. | Rhetoric, Ancient–Religious aspects. | Greek literature–Greece–Attikē–History and criticism. Classification: LCC PA3562 .S47 2020 | DDC 885/.0109382–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020023785 ISBN: 9781138570863 (hbk) ISBN: 9780203703151 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

To my parents and grandparents

Contents

Acknowledgements  Abbreviations 

ix xi

Introduction 

1

Defining fundamental terms  2 Religion, rhetoric and the polis  9 Current perspectives and approaches  12 What this book is about  17 Outline  19

1 Religious discourse in Attic oratory: A full survey 

32

Aeschines  33 Andocides  37 Antiphon  38 Demosthenes  39 Dinarchus  45 Hypereides  45 Isaeus  47 Isocrates  47 Lycurgus  50 Lysias  51 Conclusion  54

2 Contextualizing religious discourse 

63

Religious discourse beyond (con)textual limitations  65 The dichotomy between public and private speeches  69 Symbouleutic and epideictic orations  71 Individuality and circumstance  73 Conclusions  74

3 Reacting to the “airy nothing”  A two-​cornered active involvement: The speaker and the audience  83 Cognitive dispositions and emotional reactions  95

82

viii Contents

4 Civic/​political identity in religious discourse 

120

What is identity?  121 Religious discourse and civic spirit/​patriotism  126 Heroes and statesmen in religious discourse  133 Conclusions  138

Conclusion 

153

Index 

158

Acknowledgements

The process of writing a book can offer invaluable life lessons. You are moving inwards to find your professional self, to understand the ways you read, think and analyze data, to realize your limitations and to count your friends, those magnanimous people, both within and outside the confines of academia, who are willing to support you when things get mad and when circumstances become tough. The gestation period of this book, beyond all the knowledge and professional skills it gave, also enabled me to understand how important is to have people in life who sincerely believe in you and unwaveringly support your professional endeavours. I  owe much to many people and institutions whose help and support have been invaluable to the conception and completion of this book. I would like to thank Emma Aston (Reading) for working with me to prepare an application for a postdoctoral fellowship from which the idea of this book was to germinate and grow. I  have been fortunate to work alongside Emma from my initial inquiries and theoretical meanderings, and it has been gratifying to see how initial exchanges of ideas and outlines led to the formulation of the chapters of this book, which will enhance our knowledge and understanding of the features and purposes of religious discourse in the entirety of the transmitted Attic forensic, symbouleutic (political) and epideictic speeches  –​a body of 151 speeches which represent the mature flourishing of the ancient art of public speaking. I  also owe Emma special thanks for agreeing to read an ample part of this book’s manuscript despite her already full set of responsibilities. The feedback of Michael Gagarin (Austin), Michael Edwards (Roehampton), Sophia Papaioannou (Athens), Andreas Markantonatos (Peloponnese), Ioannis Konstantakos (Athens), Kostis Apostolakis (Crete) and Alessandro Vatri (Oxford), who read and commented on parts of the manuscript, has also been important in saving me from fallacies of argument and all sorts of mistakes. I would also like to thank Jason Crowley (Manchester) for having sent me his paper, “Patriotism in Ancient Greece”, prior to publication. The Department of Classics and Philosophy at the University of Cyprus is to be thanked for covering a part of the expenses of the conference “Speaking Religion: Religious Discourse and Public Speaking in Classical Athens and

x Acknowledgements Beyond”, which was organized in 2018 with the aim of examining aspects of religious discourse in public speaking in Athens in the fourth century BC, and discussing the similarities and differences between the use of religious discourse in classical Athens and in other ancient cultures and periods (i.e. Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine). I would also like to thank the University of Cyprus (2017–​19) and Aristotle University of Thessaloniki (2019–​20) for granting two postdoctoral fellowships, during which part of the work on this book was undertaken; Antonios Rengakos, my postdoctoral adviser at Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, for supporting my research endeavours; my new academic home, the Research Centre for Greek and Latin Literature of the Academy of Athens, for giving me the necessary stability and excellent research facilities to timely complete my book; and Millie Gall for reading and commenting on several drafts of the manuscript. This book is dedicated to my parents, Skevi and Sophocles, and to my grandparents, Julia and George; my love for and gratitude to them is perennial. Athens, September 2020

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Abbreviations

The abbreviations of the names of ancient authors and their works follow those in LSJ9. Abbreviations of journals are those used in L’Année Philologique. LSJ9

H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones. 1968. A Greek-​English Lexicon. 9th ed. Oxford.

Introduction

This book aims to shed further light on the features of religious discourse across the full range of public speaking contexts in Athens in the fourth century BC (forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic), the similarities and differences in its use from context to context and the ways in which it influenced, determined or shaped people’s attitudes. The focus on Attic oratory is justified not simply because the Athenians were distinguished in antiquity for their religiosity, as Pausanias points out (1.24.3),1 but also because a substantial proportion of the speeches of the so-​called Ten Attic Orators (Aeschines, Andocides, Antiphon, Demosthenes, Dinarchus, Hypereides, Isaeus, Isocrates, Lycurgus and Lysias) has come down to us in a textual form, thereby enabling us to investigate different contexts of public speaking, and make comparisons between them, thus offering the opportunity to enhance our knowledge and understanding of how religious discourse was used. In this book, the term religious discourse is intended to cover a broad spectrum of topics regarding religion in the Attic orators  –​from oaths, curses, oracles, hymns and prayers, to invocations or references to the gods and other supernatural deities or agents, such as moira and tychē. This book offers a holistic approach to religious discourse in that it explores its use in the entirety of the transmitted forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of the Ten Attic Orators, a body of 151 speeches which represents the mature flourishing of the ancient art of public speaking and persuasion, as well as both setting the standard for persuasion in the ancient world and underpinning aspects of how persuasion is understood in the modern world.2 Religion is used in speeches because it influences and determines most aspects of Athenian socio-​political, cultural and everyday life and because it could be exploited to the best rhetorical effect, in order to win the audience over, or manipulate it, to accept the speaker’s arguments. The speeches of the Ten Attic Orators that have come down to us in a textual form contain several references to matters of religious discourse. Reading the whole body of the transmitted speeches, I found references in 931 sections.3 This book delves into the deep waters of the full corpus of extant Attic oratory, aiming to answer the following important questions: how does religious discourse help to create a group or a community of people? What

2 Introduction cognitive dispositions does religious discourse create in the audience, and what emotional reactions does it trigger? And are there any differences in the form, features and purposes of religious discourse in different public speaking contexts? Examination of religious discourse and its significance in public speaking urges us to pay closer attention to the fabric of Greek religion as having civic/​political, rhetorical and persuasive dimensions.

Defining fundamental terms Let us start with some definitions. There are three terms of fundamental importance for the purposes of this book that should be given an introduction: religion, polis and religious discourse. What is ancient religion? Or, as R. Buxton famously asks, “What is Greek religion? What is religion tout court? Is there such a thing as ‘(Greek) religion’?” J. van Baal suggests a definition that emphasizes the transcendental nature of religion, disregarding its practice by people within societies:  “all explicit and implicit notions and ideas, accepted as true, which relate to a reality which cannot be verified empirically”.4 C.  Geertz sees religion as a cultural system: it “is a system of symbols which act to establish powerful, persuasive and long-​lasting moods and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic”.5 This definition recognizes the value of the exercise of religion in the context of a society, but it somehow dismisses the supernatural and transcendental part that is emphasized early in ancient sources (e.g. Protagoras highlighted adēlotēs, the obscurity and non-​evidence of the gods; 4 DK, 20 GW). Greek religion is indeed about the supernatural, if we focus on the myths, which are preserved in literary form and present aspects of popular belief about the gods (their features, might, omniscience and omnipresence),6 and advanced, or subtle, theological and moral principles (e.g. the intervention of the gods in human life). But it also associates with cultural, societal and political practices and etiquettes –​what can summarily be described by the notion of “polis religion” that will be discussed in detail below. The definition of ancient religion proposed in this book carefully considers both of its features –​the cultural and the transcendental –​without prioritizing one over the other: (ancient) religion is the system of designated behaviours, practices and theological beliefs, world-​views, sanctified places, patterns of worship and rituals, ethics and morality, societal functions and organizations, which relate humanity to the supernatural or transcendental.7 What is polis? Polis, broadly defined in this book, refers to all features that belong to and sustain Greek community-​ formation. According to the Oxford Classical Dictionary “its main features are small size, political autonomy, social homogeneity, sense of community and respect for law”.8 Another defining feature is that each polis controlled a territory (equating to a town plus hinterland), delimited either topographically by mountains

Introduction  3 or rivers, or politically by proximity to other poleis. The delimitation of boundaries between city-​states was either a matter of political agreement or military effect. The Platonic Definitions 415c refer to the polis as a settlement (oikēsis) of a number of persons (anthrōpoi) living under common decisions (koina dogmata) and laws (nomoi). M. H. Hansen and T. H. Nielsen, gathering together several ancient sources and modern discussions, offer a comprehensive exegesis of the defining meanings of the word polis: “roughly speaking, the word polis had four different senses: (a) ‘stronghold’ or ‘citadel’, (b) ‘nucleated settlement’, (c) ‘country’ or ‘territory’ and (d) ‘political community’ ”.9 For Hansen and Nielsen there were 1035 city-​states in Greece.10 J. Blok argues that “a polis conceived its identity in terms of the traditions by which the community had lived over generations (nomoi), the body of political rules in the strict sense as well as social practices and attitudes that had grown with those rules (politeia)”.11 Polis, one may roughly sum up, consists of the architecture and the topographical structure of a place, the practices of the state and its citizens (since we tend to refer to the cities as a sum of people, e.g. “the Athenians”),12 the political, economic and social landscape, and the religious spaces and ritual practices occurring within it. Polis, in other words, is a community (cf. Aristotle, Politics 1276b:  κοινωνία πολιτῶν πολιτείας “a partnership of citizens in a government”; Thucydides 1.10.2). What is religious discourse? Or, first of all, what is discourse? For S. Chatman, discourse refers to the “how”, i.e. “the means by which the content is communicated”.13 M. Foucault defined discourse as “an entity of sequences of signs in that they are enouncements”,14 i.e. statements that are acceptable by the discourse community. For him, discourses are historically situated truths or means of specifying knowledge, which play a role in the social construction of reality. L. Lessa summarizes Foucault’s definition of discourse in Archaeology of Knowledge as the “system of thoughts composed of ideas, attitudes, courses of action, beliefs and practices that systematically construct the subjects and the worlds of which they speak”.15 These definitions of discourse, especially the one proposed by Lessa, help to formulate the definition of the term religious discourse that runs throughout this work: religious discourse refers to all of the codified language that is incorporated in and can be extracted from an oratorical script –​language that conveys ideas, beliefs and attitudes of people towards religion, and points to its use as a means of winning over, or manipulating, the audience in the forums of public speaking in Athens in the fourth century BC. Welcome light on the meaning, the forms and the fundamental features of religious discourse in Attic oratory is shed by G. Martin, in his book Divine Talk: Religious Argumentation in Demosthenes. The term that Martin uses, religious argumentation, is close in meaning to the term religious discourse that is used in this book. Discourse has, of course, a broader and more all-​ embracing sense than argumentation: it refers to arguments as well as any other rhetorical techniques that a speech incorporates. Divine Talk is the first extensive discussion of religion in the speeches of Demosthenes and some

4 Introduction of his contemporaries. Martin has produced a thoroughly researched and original study of the ways in which Athenian orators argued on the basis of religion, and the forms and features this argumentation acquires. He explores a wide range of religious arguments, from oaths and prayers to the references to the intervention of the gods in human affairs and the other persuasive usages of religious discourse in a small sample of Demosthenes’ speeches (i.e. 18–​20 and 22–​24) and in a limited number of speeches by other orators (i.e. Pseudo-​Lysias 6 Against Andocides, Aeschines and Lycurgus). His book offers a series of careful and well-​researched discussions of the use of religious arguments in oratory, and in this sense it can be viewed as the precursor to this book. Although much indebted to the stimulating work that has already been done in Divine Talk, my book adopts a distinctive approach that results in significant methodological differences, especially with regard to the thematic breadth that the term religious discourse covers. Martin points out that not every reference to the gods or the divine acquires a religious dimension or significance. He distinguishes between the references to the gods and the divine that are clear, forcible and unquestionable and that certainly acquire religious overtones in the minds of the audience, and those that are unobtrusive and not forcible enough to provoke religious thoughts.16 Although I  agree with Martin that specific terms, such as katharos or miaros (basically translated as “pure” and “filthy” respectively  –​two terms that relate to the rituals of sacrifices) may not necessarily carry religious overtones, I would not a priori regard them insignificant or “incidental”. I would rather examine them, and any other references, in context, because frequently it is the context that calls for religious explanations. That would result in a larger-​scale exploration of religious discourse than that in Martin’s book. Religious discourse, understood in this book as having a broad, large-​scale, thematic spectrum, takes the following major forms: talking about the gods, prayers and curses, hymns, oaths and references to oracular divination. I will discuss each in turn. Talking about the gods, the divine, supernatural powers or agents and religious rites Discourse of this kind, as expressed in forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic speeches of Attic oratory, includes a wide range of features: a. Narration of the deeds of the gods and eulogy of their powers; b. References to the decisive intervention of the gods and/​or supernatural powers, such as moira and tychē, in human affairs (cf. Antiphon 5.6 and 6.15 with references to fate; Lycurgus 94; Isocrates, Archidamus 31; Panegyricus 68, Against Callimachus 32; Demosthenes’ dense array of references to moira and tychē in speech 18)  to support or avenge individuals (cf. Antiphon 3.3.8; 4.1.3; Isocrates, Panathenaicus 37 where the

Introduction  5 gods are presented as supplying people with all the great goods; Antidosis 282; Demosthenes 61.12 with a reference to how diligently the gods guard people against mishaps and 61.32 with a reference to fortune that scorns base men) and communities (cf. Aeschines 2.118 where it is mentioned that tychē is responsible for the political momentum of the hegemonic rise of Macedon; Demosthenes’ attribution of any successes to Athens being beloved by the gods, as in Olynthiac 1.10, 2.1; Philippic 1.12, 37, etc.). References to the gods, or moira and tychē, are a means of justifying the failed political actions of leaders (cf. Hypereides, Against Diondas 136v30–​137v8; Demosthenes 18); c. Invocation to the gods, moira, tychē and other divine agents, such as Earth and Sun (cf. Aeschines 2.260; a slight variation in Demosthenes 34.29, 39.21, 40.5, 45.73 where Earth and the gods are invoked); d. References to rituals, mainly those employed in the various institutions of public speaking in Athens (cf. Demosthenes 48.70 with a reference to the statue of Pallas that gave the name to the place where the court of ephetai held its sessions); e. The indications of the inextricable connection between democracy, civic identity/​patriotism and piety (cf. Aeschines 3.196 where it is claimed that the gods and the laws protect democracy; Demosthenes 19.280 where it is pointed out that the protectors of Athenian democracy are honoured by the Athenians as gods or demigods). Prayers, curses and prophetesses (e.g. sibyls) Prophetesses –​in the feminine –​had a certain type of ancient religious language that was the preserve of women. Prophetesses were characterized by inarticulate cries, vocal rituals and glossolalia, which involved sounds with no meaning, in a state of prophetic ecstasy. Curses are of two kinds:  conditional and binding curses. Conditional curses, evident as early as the eighth century BC, had a social role to perform in preventing people from committing civic crimes. There is a story about Alkmaionid genos: For having massacred the supporters of a revolutionary called Cylon in c. 610 BC […] the curse was still in force nearly two hundred years later. […] In 431 BC, the Spartans issued an ultimatum to the Athenians to the effect that they should “expel the accursed one”, meaning the Alkmaionid statesman Pericles, if they wished to avert the Peloponnesian War. (Garland (1994) 75) The binding curses aim at injuring individuals, physically and spiritually  –​ these are katadesmoi, or, as they were often called, defixiones: small thin lead sheets, inscribed with curses, in some cases with a tablet formed in the shape of the part of the human body it was intended to attack.17 While katadesmoi

6 Introduction or defixiones are secretive, conditional curses are often attested in speeches, as in Aeschines 3.110–​111, 121. Curses have a formulaic tripartite structure: the first part starts with the verb “I bind”, or “I bind up”, or even “I immobilize” or “restrain”, by which the targeted persons are identified. The second part involves a direct or indirect appeal to the relevant infernal power that sometimes seems like an order. “They directly address gods and ask them to act; others only invoke them as witnesses or overseers; others do both simultaneously”.18 The last part of the standard structural pattern of curses focuses on the afflictions people wish to direct towards their victims. Prayer indicates the close bond between religion and rhetoric. “To pray is to speak to the gods in the form of an argued discourse. Therefore, prayer should be analyzed as discourse, insofar as prayer is a speech that a person addresses to a divinity, and prayer can be understood in terms of the ancient categories of discourse”.19 Or, as M. Depew eloquently puts it to underline the rhetorical character of prayers, “one interlocutor presses his claim on the other (whether it be recognition, hospitality or protection) by situating it in terms of mutually recognizable and valued information”.20 Rhetoric lies in the heart of a prayer since this might be carefully formulated to convey a message as persuasively and effectively as possible to the god. The worshipper can mention previous offers to the god to establish his ēthos, his authority through character; because, as Aristotle points out in Rhetoric (1356a4–​6, 1356a13, 1377b20–​4, 1378a6–​15), “the speaker persuades by moral character when his speech is delivered in such a manner as to render him worthy of confidence”. Prayers, as well as hymns, generally follow a standard structure: invocation–​ argument–​prayer. The worshipper first addresses the god(s) by name in vocative or double vocatives,21 adding “second-​ names” (epiklēseis) to invoke attributes of the god(s); next he mentions the reasons why the god(s) should hear his invocation; and, finally, having prepared the ground, he mentions the request.22 The second phase of a prayer, the argumentation, is based on the do ut des (“I give so that you may give”) tenet, by which worshippers seek to persuade the deity to return the favour to the sender of the prayer. “In worship the Greeks aimed at generating an atmosphere of reciprocal charis […] the gods in turn grant them their charis, goodwill, which translated into wealth, health and power”.23 The prayer, as evident from the above, encompasses a degree of inherent “rhetoricity”. Hymns Hymns are defined, in the ancient sense, as a eulogy of or a song to gods, accompanied by an invocation and an address. Hymns and prayers share a similar standard structural pattern. Unlike prayers, however, hymns are not intended to prepare the ground for a specific request, but, through beguiling words, music, dance-​steps and the beauty of the performers, aim to entertain and please the god. Hymns fall largely into two categories with distinct

Introduction  7 features: the Homeric hymns and the adapted later forms –​e.g. Orphic Hymns, Proclus’ Hymns. These: Consist largely of narratives about the god’s birth and/​or exploits and finish with a brief prayer to the god to receive the song graciously before the singer turns to another –​presumably epic –​song. The Cult Hymns, the second major category of hymns, were meant for performance during religious ritual, whether calendrical festival or special event. Cult hymns usually address the god(s) directly in the second person. (Furley (2010) 129) These hymns often begin with a subsidiary invocation of other deities (e.g. the Muses). This invocation has the standard structural pattern of argument, narrative and prayer.24 In Menander’s Rhetor 331 classification, hymns are a subdivision of epideictic rhetoric –​thus aiming to secure the goodwill of the god. Oaths Oaths (horkoi), as R.  Janko argues, are intended “to invoke powers greater than oneself to uphold the truth of a declaration, by putting a curse upon oneself if it is false”.25 It is thought that there are three specific acts involved in any oath: the swearer, first, makes a declaration; if this declaration is about the present or the past, the oath is assertory; if it is about the future, the oath is promissory. The swearer, second, specifies the supernatural or divine power that would be a witness to the declaration and the guarantor of its truth. He, finally, makes a conditional curse on himself, claiming that if the declaration was false, or if the promise was violated, he would be fined by the supernatural or divine power he invoked.26 In Aristotle’s Rhetoric 1355b, oath challenges are considered artless proofs (atekhnoi pisteis), which means that they are taken as types of evidence, together with witnesses, contracts and torture-​challenges. Speakers typically exploit oaths to the best rhetorical effect, since they have a more lasting, solemn and awe-​inspiring effect on the minds of the audience than detailed legal arguments. There are, I argue, two ways in which oaths and invocations to the gods are used in speeches: the defensive and the aggressive. The defensive use of oaths aims to affirm the civil actions, words or policies (cf. Demosthenes 8.49),27 while the aggressive use aims to add validity to the accusations levelled against the opponents (cf. Aeschines 3.208, Isaeus 6.58),28 or to undermine the moral character and public authority of the opponents by presenting them as perjurers –​thus attempting to prejudice the audience against them. The question of the integration of the opponents within, or their exclusion from, the civic community is at stake in the references to them as being perjurers. Having been presented as the enemies of the gods and the city  –​because the oath acquires both religious and legal dimensions  –​the

8 Introduction opponents are excluded from the group of people who pay great attention to both of these aspects: the Athenians. The accusation of perjury aims, in other words, to activate “out-​group” hostility, i.e. that the impious man and law-​violator is excluded from the rest of the Athenians. This hostility is based on the popular belief that whoever has broken their oath and committed perjury is sure to be punished.29 “The gods took an interest in human lying, cheating, accepting bribes, giving false testimony, deliberately voting unjustly in a law trial, failing to perform duties as a citizen or government officials, or in a host of similar ‘wrongs’ ”.30 In some cases, defensive and aggressive uses of oaths are combined to maximize the rhetorical effect. In Isaeus 8.29, for example, the oath (μὰ τοὺς θεοὺς τοὺς Ὀλυμπίους “by the Olympian gods”),31 strengthened by other rhetorical language used in the surrounding text (e.g. the emphatic first person pronoun), aims to underline the speaker’s contention that he had proved his mother’s legitimacy, while simultaneously underlining the failure of his opponent to produce the slaves.32 A distinct category of oaths is the judicial/​dicastic oath and “bouleutic oath”.33 This is a technical formula recited by the judges and by the members of the Council. For Aristotle, in the Athenian Constitution 22.2, this oath was established in 501/​500 BC; but according to Demosthenes 24.148, its establishment goes back to the legislation of Solon. As K. Kapparis notes, and I agree, “the fact that new pieces were added, and perhaps left out, indicates that it [the judicial oath] was rather seen as a functional text than an antiquated formula”.34 Demosthenes 24.149–​151 provides us with the content of the judicial oath, which was taken by the judges at the beginning of each year, despite the (not fully justified) suspicion that it conveys doubtful or incomplete information.35 The judges swore that they “will give verdicts in accordance with the statutes and decrees of the People of Athens and of the Council of Five Hundred”. They also promised to, fearlessly and without bias, protect the democratic constitution and the Athenians, to increase the accountability of the magistrates by compelling them to undertake magistracies as the law instructs, to listen to both sides and cast their verdict righteously so as to show their respect towards the city, the laws, the constitution and the gods. The peroration of the oath, as transmitted in Demosthenes 24.151, increases its solemn tone with a reference to Zeus, Poseidon and Demeter and the destruction that will befall the judges if they do not make the most righteous possible decision at the end of the trial. References to civic issues and the divine make the oaths a matter of both legal and religious importance.36 There was also an oath that witnesses in Athenian trials swore, as a result of a challenge by the litigants:  “the evidentiary oath”. If a litigant wanted to introduce the statement of a woman as evidence, he did so by having the woman swear an oath before trial and then having the oath read out in the court. The evidentiary oath, however, did not make a woman a witness in court:

Introduction  9 In earlier times, oaths have played a much more prominent role in litigation, and a grammarian records a law of Solon which laid down that, where neither party could produce either contract or witness to establish his case, the parties had to take an oath as to the truth of their case, and the court had to decide on that basis. (Harrison (1971) 150–​1) Taking the evidentiary oath required the consent of the opposing litigant, and, as S. Todd argues, this oath was not used extensively in the court procedures in Athens.37 It seems that a litigant ran no risk of being punished if he did not accept an oath challenge; he only gave the impression to the judges that he had something to hide –​whatever repercussions this impression may have in the court.38 References to oracular divination Quotations of oracular divination in Attic oratorical speeches are rare: only three speeches in the Demosthenic corpus quote oracles (i.e. Demosthenes 19.297, 21.51; [Demosthenes] 43.66). Passages referring to oracular divination are also few and far between in the rest of the transmitted oratorical texts (cf. Aeschines 3.107, 130; Dinarchus 1.78, 98; Lycurgus 1.83–​88, 93, 98–​101, 105–​ 7; Hypereides 4.14–​15). Hypereides’ In Defence of Euxenippus and Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates stand apart. Hypereides’ speech is the only speech preserved from classical Athens that discusses an occasion of oracular divination by way of a dream. It presents the case of Euxenippus, an Athenian who was asked to consult the god about a rivalry between two Athenian tribes and the Oropian sanctuary of Amphiaraos, which concerned the allocation of land. Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates not only contains four references to different oracles, but these also differ significantly from those quoted by the other orators in form, function and purpose. Lycurgus’ oracles are the only ones to be presented as part of the narrative of the speech, rather than as formal depositions of evidence to be read out by a clerk, and it is particularly in Lycurgus’ references that the ambiguity of oracles, and thus the need for their careful interpretation, is emphasized.

Religion, rhetoric and the polis What becomes evident from the discussion in the first section of this chapter is that religion is embedded in the polis, having affected and been affected by socio-​political, legal and cultural institutions and structures within the Greek city-​states. It is, in fact, a truism that ancient religion was a civic religion, a more or less overt extension of the social and political order. “Greek religion is community-​based, and to the extent that the polis forms the most conspicuous of communities, it is therefore polis-​based”.39 Or, as C.  Sourvinou-​Inwood eloquently puts it, “the polis anchored, legitimated, and mediated all religious

10 Introduction activity”.40 Religion permeated every dimension of people’s lives and fundamentally influenced what people perceived as “culture”. It was believed that the omnipresent and omniscient gods should constantly be appeased and consulted because all human behaviours and actions, both those revolving around the quotidian transactions of individuals’ lives and those referring to decisive political matters, needed divine acceptance and permission. In fact, as will be argued in Chapter 4 of this book, patriotism, politics/​civic spirit and religion are closely associated with each other, with the gods being presented as protectors of all the constituents of the polis: the constitution, laws, moral values and people. Political and personal stability and prosperity, in other words, were thought to be dependent on an orderly system of communication between the gods and humans. The level of interconnectivity varied from city to city because of the fragmentary political landscape of Greece in the fifth and fourth centuries BC: a plethora of poleis-​communities had developed in social, political and economic contexts that in turn determined the particular character and features of the religious discourse, myths, festivals and cults in those poleis. Despite the widespread similarities in ritual practices, beliefs and attitudes that induce some scholars to talk about a Panhellenic religious system (e.g. polytheism in all Greek cities and common rituals such as pre-​and post-​battle sacrifices; in Herodotus’ words in 8.144: “the shrines of gods and the sacrifices that we have in common”),41 there are some important divergences. S. Price attempts, for example, to distinguish between Panhellenic and local myths.42 Divergences even on the level of myth-​telling may also point to divergent levels of religious adherence in the institutions within individual poleis. The high-​handed and despotic behaviour of Creon, for example, may be accepted as proper by a king-​liking Theban audience, but it would certainly alienate a democratic Athenian audience. The intermingling of religion and the polis, or, as Sourvinou-​Inwood points out, the embeddedness of the first in the second, permeated every single aspect of life in Athens in the fourth century BC, and forms the basis of the notion of “polis religion”. The focus on Athens in this period is not a fluke:  a wide range of sources from oratory and history to literature in broader terms shed light on the inseparability between the institutions of the Athenian polis and its religion.43 The connection of rhetoric, one of the fundamental sustaining institutions of Athens, with religion is, in a certain sense, indisputable. Religion is always open to be debated and articulated verbally; rhetoric, in other words, has been the major vehicle through which religion is phrased and propagated. Rhetoric in its broad sense –​i.e. a reference to words spoken in a context or written for an audience –​is used to address the divine, to invoke the gods, to talk about the sacred, to express piety and to articulate, refer to, recite or explain the meaning of hymns, oaths, prayers, oracles and other signs. The relationship between rhetoric and religion is two-​cornered:  rhetoric is no less embedded in Greek religion than Greek religion is in rhetoric. In

Introduction  11 the entrance of the Council, there was a shrine of Zeus and Athena, where, as Antiphon 6.45 informs us, members offered prayers as they entered; while, according to Demosthenes 25.99, copies of all Athenian laws were deposited for reference in the Sanctuary of the Mother-​Goddess. Assembly meetings or law court trials in Athens started with a series of religious acts, such as sacrifices to Apollo and Artemis Boulaia, and to Artemis Phosphorus and Zeus Ktēsios in a later stage,44 of a pig whose blood was spattered over the auditorium, prayers, curses against the speakers who spoke and acted against the city, and offerings to gods. Divine agency was brought into the human, especially the legal, sphere in many other ways. Peithō (Persuasion) was regarded as a goddess (cf. Isocrates, Antidosis 249);45 discourse can have supernatural effectiveness, rhetoric and eloquence are attributed to good fortune (cf. Isocrates, Antidosis 246)  or believed to be distributed by the gods (cf. Isocrates, Antidosis 247), and the orator can be invested with religious powers. Other personifications, such as Dikē (Justice; cf. Demosthenes 25.11, 35), Themis and Dikaiosynē (Justice), mark Athenians’ attempts to deify judicial principles and to underline the importance of their legal, legislatorial, juridical and moral system.46 Dikē, or the Goddess I/​Justitia in Latin or the Lady Justice in contemporary parlance, is a personification that represents the moral strength in judicial systems. Dikē, the goddess of Justice, is considered the daughter of Zeus and Themis and the sister of Eunomia, Order (cf. Hesiod, Theogony 901–​904; Pindar, Olympian 13.5–​9).47 Dikē represents the spirit of morality and righteousness that is infused in the Athenian juridical and legislatorial system, implicitly pointing to the moral and functional superiority of that legal system. This legal system is considered the product of mortal and divine agency; in Demosthenes’ words in 25.16: every law is at once “an invention and gift from the gods and a judgement of wise men”.48 Religion intersects with social/​civic institutions that are central to rhetorical processes and outcomes, thereby impacting upon political attitudes, decision-​making and mass persuasion, or manipulation. The notion that gods are interested in law, and that law helps create a good relationship between humanity and the divine, constituted an important mindset that promoted a well-​functioning civic community. Attic orations include references to the gods as monitoring the Assembly or sessions in the court of law, requiring the judges to arrive at a fair decision that would show their respect for the gods and their city (cf. Demosthenes 18.324; 19.239–​40, 299; Aeschines 3.260). These references are designed and expected to persuade the audience: the speakers subtly aim to instil fear in the judges, encouraging them to think of themselves as being personally accountable to divine justice, if their verdict does not meet the expectations of the implied divine audience. The Greeks attributed the success of their community to the maintenance of good relationships with the gods and the observance of the social rules, values and “deep structures” they safeguarded (cf. Aeschines 3.196; Demosthenes, Olynthiac 1.10; 2.1, 22 and Philippic 1.12, 37, 45; 4.24, 31; Dinarchus 3.19; Isocrates 15.321).

12 Introduction At times of crisis of all sorts, religious discourse was used extensively in the forums for public speaking in Athens:  in times of warmongering or engagement in war, for example, rhetoric in the Assembly would have been embellished by references to oracles and other portents, with the aim of moulding the collective mood of the people and determining the outcome of crucial decision-​making processes (cf. in Thrasybulus’ speech in Xenophon’s Hellenics 2.4.14, 17).49 There is no more solemnly effective way to win over and motivate people to embark on a policy than telling them that their city is beloved and supported by the gods, and that with the gods on their side their success is assured (cf. Demosthenes’ Olynthiac speeches include many references to Athens being beloved and blessed by the gods and fortune). The human psychē longs for reassurance and comfort when things are tough, insecure or unpleasant. Religious discourse allays anxiety by providing a context in which these conditions are either explained or offset by the promise of a better life or salvation.50

Current perspectives and approaches Continuing research, textual interpretations and a broad analytical focus emphasizing social, political and legal approaches have shed welcome light on the synergy between religion and the art of public (i.e. political, social and rhetorical) speaking in classical Athenian antiquity. It has already been mentioned that Martin’s book, Divine Talk:  Religious Argumentation in Demosthenes, is the first fully-​fledged examination of the role religion plays in the rhetorical strategy of selected speeches of Attic oratory. Martin’s aim, as mentioned above, is to examine how, why and in which oratorical passages religious arguments are deployed. That is why he examines speeches for public trials (graphai; Chapters 1–​5), symbouleutic speeches and speeches for private suits (dikai; Chapters 6–​9). Martin, despite breaking interesting new ground in the examination of the embeddedness of religion in Attic oratory, and, by extension, in the civic, social and political institutions of Athens, is not the first to explore the ways in which political community coincides with religious community. Scholarship on this issue is deeply indebted to the notion of “polis religion”, which gained widespread currency thanks to Sourvinou-​Inwood.51 Her works, a perennial source of inspiration for anyone interested in the field of ancient Greek religion, investigate the ways in which the Greek polis articulated, and was articulated by, religion. Sourvinou-​Inwood’s “ ‘polis religion’ embraces, contains and mediates all religious discourse –​with the ambiguous and uncertain exception of some sectarian discourse”.52 She also points out that “the fact that all the phratries in Athens have the same main deities suggests that their most important cults resulted from a central articulation of cult, an articulation of the polis given symbolic expression and cohesion through cult”.53 This socio-​political unity in Athens is also manifest in active participation in the

Introduction  13 cultural, socio-​political and legal institutions that exemplify the ideal of hiera kai hosia: the things humans give to the gods in return for their divine gifts, and all human acts, thoughts and possessions that conform to hosiē, rules of conduct in which the gods have a particular interest. The whole community is involved, each individual having a share as member of the group; in this sense, hiera kai hosia represent their common interests and identity. (Blok (2011) 233–​254) For Blok, hiera is a reference to the “things of the gods” (e.g. temples, rites and the gifts devoted to the gods), while hosia, a matter of scholarly controversy and debate for decades, seems to denote “human actions, words, or possessions that comply with hosiē, a set of specific norms and rules of human conduct, and therefore are pleasing to the gods”.54 The performance of communal religious rituals thereby worked as the “glue” that kept social groups together. All cult acts, even those performed in the oikos, were under the control of the polis of Athens.55 Sourvinou-​Inwood’s “polis religion” also describes the interconnectivity of religion and socio-​political institutions beyond the polis level: Panhellenic congruity refers to the work in sanctuaries or Amphictyonies and religious leagues. Exploring the ways in which the political structure of the Greek polis shaped religious practices and representations, the model of “polis religion” pays attention to myth and rituals, adolescent transitions, illustrations of the afterlife and variations of Panhellenic representation found in Greek cities (“divine personalities”): At the same time, the religious inventories of the individual city-​states resembled each other because of their shared past and the spread of epic poetry throughout the Greek world. In particular, the poems of Homer and Hesiod had unified and structured the Greek pantheon. Religion thus offered a common set of ideologies and values, such as shared notions of purity and pollution, sacred and profane, human and divine, which were a reference point throughout the Greek world. (Kindt (2012) 13–​14) The model of “polis religion”, despite being indelibly connected with Sourvinou-​Inwood, describes a widely held set of ideas, originating in the 1980s among British and French classicists, sociologists and anthropologists. The idea that religion is an integral part of a community emerged in French sociologist E. Durkheim’s The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, in which religion is presented as a social phenomenon. Durkheim, investigating the Australian Totemic societies, argues that the development of religion is attained through communal life. For him, the animal or the plant that each

14 Introduction Totemic clan worshipped as a sacred power was, in fact, a representation of the society itself. The essence of religion, Durkheim finds, is the concept of the sacred that holds a community together and reflects upon forms of social organization. In his words, religion is not defined by the supernatural and the mysterious; it is rather “a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden –​beliefs and practices which unite into one single moral community called a Church, all those who adhere to them”.56 Durkheim’s theory of religion as a communal enterprise is further acknowledged and developed by his contemporary J. E. Harrison, known as one of the founders of modern studies in ancient Greek religion and mythology (along with K. Kerenyi and W. Burkert). In her book Themis, Harrison argues that myths and rituals reflected and constituted the structure of Greek society. As she eloquently puts it, “religion sums up and embodies what we feel together, what we care for together, what we imagine together, and the price of that feeling together, that imagining together, the concessions, the mutual compromises that are at first gladly paid”.57 For, as P. Boyer also rightly points out, “society would not hold together if people did not have some central set of beliefs that bind them together and make social groups work as organic wholes rather than aggregates of self-​interested individuals”.58 This is particularly true in the case of Athenian religion: festivals allowed factional social and political groups to come together. Festivals in the demes of Athens, for example, and important religious occasions, such as the Panathenaea and the Dionysia, helped the Athenians to celebrate the idea of communality, participating in the worship and the processions, the communal feasts and meals and the athletic or dramatic competitions.59 The theory of “polis religion” was further exploited in W. Burkert’s Greek Religion and L. B. Zaidman and P. S. Pantel’s Religion in the Ancient Greek City. Both studies examine the religious structures of the Greek city-​state in two periods of Greek history, the archaic and classical periods. For Burkert, who used the term “polis religion” (or “cosmic religion”) five years before Sourvinou-​Inwood developed a full theory, “religion is not turned to the religious needs of the individual; it shapes the community of the polis, pointing out and verbalizing its functions through its gods”.60 Burkert identified three specific markers of the association between Greek religion and the institutions of the polis: first, self-​representation of the community through religious cults; second, the control of religious practices by the polis through its decision-​making forums; and third, the creation or alteration of religious institutions within the socio-​political community in Athens.61 Zaidman and Pantel, in a similar vein, rightly remark that religion impregnates a wide range of aspects of life in Athens, either interstate life (e.g. the foundation of colonies, declaration of wars and ratification of treaties) or intra-​state life (e.g. liturgies and the ways in which the Assembly, the courts of law and other forums of public speaking work).62 Zaidman and Pantel are also right to note that the amalgam of political and religious functions

Introduction  15 in Athens –​what they call “religious patriotism” or “religious politics” –​is manifested physically in the Athenian agora, the place where civic cults took place and where religious sites were founded (e.g. sanctuaries, altars, tombs of heroes), and the Acropolis with its temples and its history pointing to the interconnection of religion and partisan politics.63 Since these preliminary studies on the relationship between religion and social, political and rhetorical aspects of life in the ancient polis, an extensive bibliography has emerged to focus on aspects of the theory of “polis religion”.64 K. Dover, for example, discusses the oath that the judges swore in court and speakers’ claims or insinuations that their opponents violated divine as well as human law.65 J. Mikalson analyzes treason and heroism as acts that acquire religious significance.66 R. Parker examines the connection between patriotism, land and religion in the context of the Athenians’ belief that they had lived in Attica from time immemorial.67 Parker also argues that “it was the ordered community, the polis, which assumed the role played in Christianity by the Church”.68 G.  Martin argues that political community coincides with religious community, and proceeds to examine the persuasive use of religious discourse in a small sample of Demosthenes’ speeches (i.e. 18–​20 and 22–​24) and in a limited number of speeches by other orators (i.e. Pseudo-​Lysias 6 Against Andocides, Aeschines and Lycurgus).69 My own first monograph offers limited discussions about how religious discourse is critical to the dynamics of the law court by creating a certain attitude in the judges towards the two litigants, and thus potentially affecting their verdict.70 Although the theory of “polis religion” has been very influential, it has not been accepted unanimously, and many critical reassessments have emerged since the time Sourvinou-​Inwood formulated a fully-​fledged theory, with critiques often focusing on the level of authority that the ancient polis exercised over the religion. The most steadfast criticism of the “polis religion” model is that it can over-​emphasize the degree of control that the polis had over religious practice, not paying enough attention to segregated and marginalized segments of Athenian society. The model presupposes the existence of a rigidly coherent, all-​encompassing religious system, whereas in fact there would have been variations and inconsistencies. J.  Kindt and J. Mikalson, for example, drawing on R. Garland’s “Religious Authority in Archaic and Classical Athens”, question the rigid authority of the polis over religious practices and officials. For Garland, religious authority in Athens was fragmented: it was the monopoly neither of the citizen body as a whole nor any particular group of individuals within it. It was rather a discrete prerogative shared out among a number of corporations, comprising amateurs as well as magistrates, religious experts and laity.71 Garland’s conclusion is that the ultimate authority lay outside the purview of the Athenian state. Mikalson remarks, quite similarly, that the authority that the Athenian dēmos exercised over priests, priestesses and cults is exaggerated by scholars, suggesting that the intervention of the Assembly and the Boulē was limited to the level of administrating and financing the cults.72 Kindt argues that there is religion

16 Introduction beyond polis, i.e. there are aspects of religious discourse and practices that are exerted within the borders of the city but privately.73 In my view, in spite of the criticism, the “polis religion” model remains the most useful to the scholar who wants to explore aspects of the relationship between religion and the city-​state. This is because the “polis religion” model denies neither the role of individuals or groups in exercising religion in private within the borders of the city, nor the role of inter-​polis institutions, such as Amphictyonies, in transferring religious myths, discourses and practices from city to city. Certainly there were aspects of religion that the polis did not control, but there was no religious activity that set itself up as distinct from or out of the control of the civic institutions and the communal affairs within the polis. This is what the case of Socrates indicates: his identity, constructed around his failure to participate in state rituals, has been plausibly suggested as being among the factors that made him vulnerable to charges of impiety in 399 BC. Indeed, the wealth of references to impiety and its legal punishment in Attic law may indicate how powerful the control of the polis was over (what we tend to consider as) matters of privacy and religious status (including ritual practice or freethinking):  anyone defying, disturbing or distorting the customs and the mainstream traditions of the city was subject to legal condemnation.74 After all, it seems that there was social cost for those who participated in private religious associations. Passages, such as those in Demosthenes 18.259–​260 and 19.199–​200, where Aeschines is accused of having participated in rituals associated with Dionysus/​Bacchus and Sabazius, “illustrate the hostile attitude of part of the Athenian elite towards all these rituals. It did not befit a respectable Athenian to be a member of such groups”.75 This overview of the most fundamental trends in the study of the intermingling between religion and society indicates that much progress has been made in understanding religion as an agglomeration of civic, political and rhetorical variants. A diversity of topics has been investigated, from the links that betray the relationship between religion and society to the level and breadth of the authority that the second exerts over the first. Despite this expanded gamut of research inquiries, however, there is a notable lack of a single, full and up-​to-​date examination of the use of religious discourse in the entirety of the speeches of Attic oratory. Most of the current scholarship examines how particular aspects of religious discourse function in specific contexts, which may or may not include oratory. In addition to some studies (e.g. Dover, Mikalson, Sourvinou-​Inwood and Parker), which only occasionally discuss how religious discourse is manifested and deployed in Attic oratory, my previous book, Attic Oratory and Performance, focusing mainly on performance in four speeches of Aeschines and Demosthenes, inevitably leaves many aspects of religious discourse undiscussed. Martin’s book, despite examining religious discourse in both judicial and symbouleutic oratory, adopts a small number of case studies, leaving a great wealth of speeches uninvestigated. His analysis is based on six speeches that Demosthenes wrote

Introduction  17 for public trials: three that he delivered in person (speeches 18–​20) and three that he composed to be delivered by others (speeches 22–​24).

What this book is about This book seeks to offer a critical investigation of a wide range of features of religious discourse –​wider than any other recent approach to ancient religious discourse –​in all public speaking contexts in classical Athens: forensic (comprising both public and private cases), symbouleutic and epideictic. There is a specific focus on how, where, why and to what effect, religious discourse is used in those speeches of the Ten Attic Orators that have come down to us in a textual form. While it is generally true that it is easier for us to discern patterns than to explain them, it is both interesting and useful to try to explain the strategic reasoning behind the use of religious discourse in specific texts, contexts and oratorical genres. The framework –​i.e. the means or restrictions –​that specific contexts provide to the speaker concerning the use of religious discourse, remains largely under-​theorized in classical scholarship on Attic oratory. Different institutions have different “logics of appropriateness”, to use a term that draws on New Institutionalism, which condition the ways in which discourses interact and affect society. The same orators did not use religious discourse in the same way in front of different institutional audiences because the same Athenian thought and voted differently, depending on the institutional setting in which he was called to make decisions. Martin draws four conclusions about the use of religious discourse in specific oratorical and institutional contexts:  first, religious argumentation is more prominent in forensic than in symbouleutic speeches; second, within forensic oratory, religious discourse is more prevalent in speeches for public trials than in those for private suits; third, Demosthenes makes constrained use of religious arguments, even when he addresses religious issues and where the scope for religious argumentation is clearly present; and fourth, among Demosthenes’ speeches for public trials, those that he delivered himself stand out for their lack of religious argumentation, whereas those that he wrote for others make substantial use of such arguments. These distinctions, despite being important in shedding light on the use of religious discourse in oratory, are not fully compatible with the use of religious discourse in the entirety of the corpus of Attic oratory. It is true that references to religious discourse are most extensive in forensic speeches (found in 708 sections), despite also being notable in symbouleutic (found in 125 sections) and epideictic speeches (found in 98 sections).76 I also counted more instances of religious discourse in forensic public speeches (found in 495 sections) and fewer in forensic private speeches (found in 213 sections). A full investigation also reveals that references to matters of religious discourse are made in 460 sections out of 4224 sections of the full corpus of Demosthenic speeches (or 10.9%), with Demosthenes ranking sixth among the Ten Attic Orators in the frequency of deploying religious discourse.77

18 Introduction Martin’s fourth conclusion, however, is not validated. In fact, I  draw exactly the opposite conclusion: instances of religious discourse are higher in number in the orations that Demosthenes delivered himself than in the three he composed for others to deliver (i.e. speech 22, Against Androtion; speech 23, Against Aristocrates; speech 24, Against Timocrates). In these three logographic speeches, I counted 51 sections with references to religious discourse (or 9.9%), in contrast to 95 (or 14.2%) in two non-​logographic speeches alone:  speeches 18, On the Crown, and 19, On the False Embassy, the two speeches Martin explores in his book.78 In absolute numbers, the impression that non-​logographic speeches contain more references to religious discourse does not change: I counted 412 sections with religious discourse in a total of 2951 sections that the forensic public and private speeches of Demosthenes comprise (or 13.96%). Presumably the difference in counting relates to Martin’s argument that not all references to religion should be afforded equal weight in terms of their interpretation and impact. So a more nuanced approach, and an examination with a broader scope, would help us make fuller sense of the use of religious discourse in the speeches delivered by Attic orators. It would be useful, for example, to examine contextual dichotomies, such as logographic/​ non-​ logographic and public/​ private speeches, to see what convergences and divergences in the features and purposes of religious discourse can be traced. Fuller investigation of religious discourse will focus on the entirety of the transmitted speeches, including epideictic speeches, and will suggest explanations about the forms and features of religious discourse, and the contexts and reasons that dictate its use. By exploring and interpreting the use of religious discourse in the entirety of the transmitted forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of the Ten Attic Orators, this book will be the first to examine the mechanisms of religion as a tool for persuasion in the full range of public speaking contexts in classical Athens. The originality of this book is further underlined by its aim to bring interdisciplinary theories  –​i.e. New Institutionalism, identity construction, group identity and social identity theory  –​to the fore in the discussion of religious discourse. The book aims to explore the cognitive and emotional impact that religious discourse exerted upon ancient audiences by activating a sense of group identity and creating a sense of a civic/​political and religious community that unites its members. A fuller appreciation of the complicated interrelations between religion and the communal socio-​political identity contributes towards a more complete understanding of ancient Greek persuasion, and such an understanding serves to advance our overall knowledge of the growing popular sovereignty, civic/​political identity construction and decision-​making processes in different public speaking contexts in classical Athens. The use of the latest interdisciplinary theories to understand the communicative function of religious discourse in the context of Athenian democracy provides insights into broader socio-​political, legal and cultural frameworks.

Introduction  19

Outline This book is articulated in four chapters and a conclusion. Chapter  1, “Religious discourse in Attic oratory:  A full survey”, aims to provide a comprehensive, full-​scale survey of the main features and manifestations of religious discourse in the forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of Aeschines, Andocides, Antiphon, Demosthenes, Dinarchus, Hypereides, Isaeus, Isocrates, Lycurgus and Lysias. This chapter attempts to refer to the main forms of religious discourse, i.e. the persistently and recurrently used features, or those situated in emotionally heightened contexts or other moments in the speech where the narrative and argument have intense significance. These surveys, however condensed they will inevitably be (or look), will enable us to reconstruct a coherent overarching picture of the main topics or approaches that each orator relies on in his speeches, thus making possible a deeper appreciation of the use of religion in the decision-​making forums, and facilitating the discussion of its importance in the subsequent chapters of this book. Chapter 2, “Contextualizing religious discourse”, aims to contextualize, comment on and explain the use of specific patterns of religious discourse in specific oratorical contexts, examining the means or restrictions that these contexts generate for the speaker. New Institutionalism argues that different institutions have different “logics of appropriateness” that condition the ways in which discourses interact and affect society. To act appropriately is to proceed according to the institutionalized practices which arise from a collective and mutual understanding of what is true, reasonable, natural, right and good in a specific context. Rules and practices specify what is normal, what must be expected, what can be relied upon, and what makes sense within a given context or community. The idea that people behave in a specific way depending on the institutional etiquette can shed light on the ways in which orators in classical Athens use specific arguments and rheto­ rical techniques in well-​designated contexts, and only in those contexts. As L. Rubinstein argues, for example, the public or private legal character of the cases affects the options available to the speakers in terms of the content of their speech, the arguments and the rhetorical strategies.79 It will be argued in this book that the differences between oratorical genres affect the use of religious discourse. Chapter 3, “Reacting to the ‘airy nothing’ ”, aims to provide information about the reactions of both the speaker and the audience, when religious stimuli are provided in orations. These reactions can fall within two major categories: physical/​sensory (i.e. voice reactions and gesticulation –​everything that has to do with the senses of sight and hearing) and cognitive/​emotional (i.e. the mental disposition that religious discourse inculcates in the audience and the emotions it triggers). This chapter is, therefore, divided into two parts: the first, “A two-​cornered active involvement: The speaker and the audience”, focuses on the exploration of the physical/​sensory reactions of both

20 Introduction the speaker and the audience: the ways in which religious discourse influenced the former’s gesticulation and the use of other bodily movements and vocal ploys, and the ways in which the latter may have reacted verbally (i.e. voice reactions) or non-​verbally (bodily or other physical actions). The second part of this chapter, “Cognitive dispositions and emotional reactions”, explores the ways in which the use of religious discourse in the speeches of the Ten Attic Orators created a certain mindset in the audience, and instigated specific emotions. Chapter 4, “Civic/​political identity in religious discourse”, aims to examine two specific ways in which religious discourse, as manifested and exploited in the whole corpus of forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic speeches of Attic oratory, contribute to the presentation and recognition of aspects of identity, either collective or individual. The areas of investigation include:  first, references to the interconnection between religion and civic spirit or patriotism; and second, the religious dimension of the examples of ideal statesmen and mythical heroes that underline the bonds that keep the community together. An incessant game of inclusion and exclusion from a group can be found beneath all three areas of investigation. References aim first to create or maintain a group of people, underlining the shared civic and religious values and convictions, and the belief that this group has shared interests; and second, to exclude political rivals from the group as being alien and inimical to the religious and civic bonds that hold the community together. This Conclusion pulls together the various threads that run through the book. After referring briefly to the insights into the interrelation between rhetoric and religion in Attic oratory and politics that this book provides, and after underscoring the value of the book’s approach to the use of religious discourse in public (legal or political) speaking, it offers suggestions about religious discourse in other kinds of rhetoric, or in rhetoric of other eras and cultures (e.g. Hellenistic cities, Rome, Byzantium and beyond) that might be further explored in future research endeavours.

Notes 1 Pausanias 1.24.3:  “They were far more zealous than other people in matters concerning the gods” (τὰ θεῖα). Translation: Jones (1918). Translations of the texts that are included in the Introduction to, and the following chapters of, this book are taken from the following works, unless otherwise noted: Demosthenes 1–​10: Vince (1930); Demosthenes 11–​20: Vince and Vince (1926); Demosthenes 21–​50: Murray (1939); Demosthenes 51–​61: DeWitt and DeWitt (1949); Aeschines: Adams (1919); Andocides: Maidment (1968); Dinarchus, Hypereides and Lycurgus: Burtt (1962); Isaeus: Forster (1962); Isocrates: Norlin (1980); Lysias: Lamb (1930); Aristotle’s Politics:  Rackham (1944); Aristotle’s Rhetoric:  Freese (1926); Hesiod:  Evelyn-​ White (1914); Pseudo-​Plutarch’s Lives of the Ten Orators: Goodwin (1874); Plato’s Laws: Bury (1967–​1968); Plato’s Minos: Lamb (1967). 2 In the list of 151 speeches I do not include the 15 extant letters (six of which belong to Demosthenes and nine to Isocrates) and the fragments of two lost speeches of

Introduction  21 Hypereides in the Archimedes Palimpsest (the speeches Against Timandros and Against Diondas). Chapter 1 provides full information about the speeches that are discussed in this book. 3 In the table below are the numbers of references to matters of religious discourse in the speeches of each of the Ten Attic Orators. The percentage given in the brackets is the quotient of the number of sections with references to matters of religious discourse and the total number of sections in the speeches of each orator. Aeschines: 76 (11.9%) Andocides: 31 (11.8%) Antiphon: 47 (15.9%) Demosthenes: 460 (10.9%) Dinarchus: 32 (19.75%)

Hypereides: 15 (8.4%) Isaeus: 26 (4.85%) Isocrates: 131 (6.55%) Lycurgus: 33 (22%) Lysias: 80 (7.17%)

4 Baal (1971) 3. 5 Geertz (1973) 90. 6 Nilsson (1972); Parker (2011). I do not agree with the clear-​cut distinction by H. J. Rose between modern Abrahamic religions, which are described as transcendental in a sense that they invite people to think of eternal life and happiness, and the ancient Greek religion, which is more “earthy”, i.e. more related or concerned with human life on earth. See Rose (1946) 10–​11. Transcendentalism, in the sense Rose takes it, is also a feature of Greek religion:  sources, for example, often refer to people whose life on earth made them eternally blessed (e.g. Isocrates, in Evagoras 14, on Aeacus’ kinship with Zeus that gives people relief from woes; Isocrates, in Panathenaicus 204, and Demosthenes, in the Erotic Essay 30, on Rhadamanthus and Minus), in contrast with people who are damned to suffer eternal tortures in Hades because of their impiety (e.g. Sisyphus and Tantalus). 7 Further on (ancient) religion, its nature and features:  Dietrich (1974), (1986); Hamilton (1995); Buxton (2000); Gould (2001); Mikalson (2005); Kindt (2012); Winkelman and Baker (2016). An important area of classical scholarship on ancient religion aims to distinguish it from magic: Versnel (1991) 177–​197; Fowler (2000) 317–​343. On this matter, anthropological and sociological studies are also useful:  Goody (1961) 142–​164; Wax (1963) 495–​518; Hammond (1970) 1349–​ 1356; Geertz (1975) 71–​89. 8 Oxford Classical Dictionary s.v. polis. 9 Hansen and Nielsen (2004) 39. For a comprehensive discussion of a wide range of ancient sources about the meanings and fundamental features of the Greek polis: Hansen (1998), (2000) 173–​215, (2007); Hansen and Nielsen (2004) 39–​46. On the polis as a sacred landscape: Alcock and Osborne (1994); Polignac (1995); Cole (2004). 10 Hundreds of other settlements which are not poleis, or the status of which remains in doubt, are listed in addition to the 1035 which are enumerated in Hansen and Nielsen (2004) 6. 11 Blok (2014) 14–​15. 12 Blok (2014) 15. On the polis as a community of people: Manville (1990), (1997) 21–​ 33; Walter (1993); Cartledge (2000) 11–​ 22; Crowley (ForthcomingFM2_​ 9781138570863.docx -​CIT000020). 13 Chatman (1978) 19.

22 Introduction 14 Foucault (1969) 141. 15 Lessa (2006) 285. 16 Martin (2009) 6–​9. 17 On the features and functions of conditional and binding curses:  Eidinow (2007) 140. 18 Eidinow (2007) 147. 19 Pernot (2005) 331. 20 Depew (1997) 233. 21 Pulleyn (1997) 133. 22 Furley (2010) 122. 23 Furley (2010) 119. 24 Further on the structural and performative features of the Greek cult hymns: Dowden (2007) 327–​332; Furley (2010) 130–​131. 25 Janko (1992) 194. Also in the Oxford Classical Dictionary: “an oath is a statement (assertory) or a promise (promissory) strengthened by the invocation of god as a witness and often with the addition of a curse in the case of perjury”. 26 Sommerstein and Torrance (2014) 1–​2. 27 Demosthenes 8.49:  for if you have the guarantee of some god, since no mere mortal could be a satisfactory surety for such an event that if you remain inactive and abandon everything, Philip will not in the end march against yourselves, by Zeus and all the other gods, it would be disgraceful and unworthy of you and of the resources of your city and the record of your ancestors to abandon all the other Greeks to enslavement for the sake of your own ease, and I for one would rather die than be guilty of proposing such a policy”. 28 Aeschines 3.208: “but when, perjurer that he is, he takes refuge in the confidence which you place in oaths, remind him of this, that when a man repeatedly perjures himself, and yet is continually demanding to be believed because of his oaths, one of two things ought to be true, either the gods ought to be new gods, or the hearers not the same”. Isaeus 6.58:  “by the gods of Olympus, is it not extraordinary, gentlemen, that, if the children are legitimate, their guardian should claim for himself the estate of Euctemon and his daughter as an heiress, and, if they are not legitimate, that he should have given evidence now in support of their legitimacy? For these acts are the very contrary of one another; so that he is convicted of perjury not only by us but by his own acts”. 29 In Hesiod, for example, oaths are presented as running alongside the crooked judgements made by bribe-​swallowing judges (Works and Days 219–221), who put their personal gain above justice and receive punishment from the gods. A  useful survey of other sources about divine punishment of perjury is offered by Sommerstein and Torrance 2014:  12:  “Hesiod’s concerns about perjury and private profit are picked up in Theognis 197–202, where the perjurer profits for a  short while but becomes wretched in the long run (200; cf. also Theognis 1194–1195). Hesiodic resonances for the divine punishment of perjury for personal gain appear in Plato’s Laws (916e–917a), where perjury is forbidden by the market laws. There are similarities too between the two authors in the representation of oath-​breaking and divine punishment; cf. Plato’s Laws 701b–c, which echoes Hesiod’s Works and Days 180–201, and also Republic 363d (resonances about the continuity of the family)”. 30 Mikalson (1991) 86.

Introduction  23 31 This is the only occurrence of the phrase in Isaeus’ speeches, where the use of invocations to the gods is generally timid and constrained. Cf. 11.36:  “By the gods”; 6.58:  “By the gods of Olympus”; 7.33:  “By Zeus”. Griffith-​ Williams (2013) 133. 32 Isaeus 8.29: “For events in the distant past I furnished hearsay evidence vouched for by witnesses; where living witnesses are available, I  produced those who are familiar with the facts, who knew perfectly well that my mother was brought up in Ciron’s house, that she was regarded as his daughter, and that she was twice betrothed and twice married; I further showed that on all these points my opponents have refused to allow the evidence of slaves under torture, who knew all the facts. By the gods of Olympus, I could not possibly give stronger proofs than these, and I think that those which I have produced are sufficient”. 33 The term “bouleutic oath” belongs to Kapparis (1999) 171. 34 Kapparis (1999) 171–​2. 35 Harrison (1971) 43; Todd (1993) 54. 36 More information on the judicial oath: Plescia (1970); Zaidman and Pantel (1995) 100; Lanni (1997) 188; Mirhady (2007) 48–​59. 37 Todd (1993) 96. 38 Harrison (1971) 152. On the history of the oath and its development in ancient Greece: Plescia (1970); Karavites (1992); Aubriot (1991) 91–​103; Faraone (1993) 60–​80; Saladino (1998) 87–​106; Giorgieri (2001) 421–​440; Kitts (2003) 17–​34. 39 Oxford Classical Dictionary s.v. religion, Greek. 40 Sourvinou-​Inwood (1990) 297. On the interconnection between law, politics and religion in early Greece: Gagarin (2013) 59–​78. 41 Price (1999) 3–​9; Harris (2015) 77–​9 on the meaning of the notion ta patria, the traditional common sacred practices of the Greek cities in antiquity. 42 Price (1999) 11–​46. 43 There has been widespread acceptance in the last few decades of the religious dimension of literary genres, especially Greek tragedy, with much emphasis placed on the articulations and manipulations of rituals in the creation of tragic meanings. Useful bibliographical references on this issue include: Zeitlin (1965) 463–​508; Vidal-​Naquet (1972) 133–​58; Goldhill (1990) 97–​129 on the character of the dramatic performances as part of a festival; Easterling (1991) 87–​109; Friedrich (1996) 269–​70; Sourvinou-​Inwood (2003) on how the tragedies were perceived by the ancient audiences as ritual performances; Sourvinou-​Inwood (2005) 7–​24; Lefkowitz (2016) 1–​23 for a comprehensive overview of the relationship between the gods and humans in literary genres, especially epic and tragedy. 44 Mikalson (2016) 113. 45 Pausanias 1.22.3 states that the worship of Peithō was established in Athens by Theseus, and speaks of a statue of this goddess as once having stood near the Acropolis: “when Theseus had united into one state the many Athenian parishes, he established the cults of Aphrodite Pandēmos (Common) and of Persuasion. The old statues no longer existed in my time, but those I saw were the work of no inferior artists. There is also a sanctuary of Earth, Nurse of Youth, and of Demeter Chloē (Green). You can learn all about their names by conversing with the priests”. References to personified and/​or deified Persuasion can also be found in Hesiod’s Theogony 349 and Works and Days 73; Aeschylus’ Suppliant Women

24 Introduction 1041; and Herodotus 8.111, where divine Persuasion is presented as supporting the Athenians: “the Athenians had come with two great gods to aid them, Persuasion and Necessity”. 46 On personification in Greek religious thought and practice: Stafford (2010) 71–​85. 47 Hesiod, Theogony 901–​904: “next he married bright Themis who bore the Horai (Hours) and Eunomia (Order), Dikē (Justice) and blooming Eirēnē (Peace), who mind the works of mortal men, and the Moirai (Fates) to whom wise Zeus gave the greatest honour”. Pindar, Olympian 13.5–​9: “there [in Olympia] dwell Eunomia and her sisters, the secure foundation of cities: Dikē and Eirēnē, who was raised together with her, the guardians of wealth for men, the golden daughters of wise Themis”. 48 On lawgiving and the communication between gods and men in general: Willey (2016) 176–​186. 49 Price (1999) 73–​6; Martin (2016) 288ff. 50 On this topic, see also pp. 40–41, 48, 132. 51 Sourvinou-​Inwood (1988) 259–​274, (1990) 295–​322. 52 Sourvinou-​Inwood (1990) 302. 53 Sourvinou-​Inwood (1990) 318, (2000) 51. 54 Blok (2014) 17. Also:  Osborne (1993) 392–​405; Cole (1995) 292–​325; Burkert (1995); Georgoudi (1998) 325–​334; Parker (2005); Peels (2015). 55 Sourvinou-​Inwood (2000) 51–​55. As Orlin et  al. (2016) 732 also rightly put it, “citizens of a polis came to be united as a festival community, with a common religious calendar and collective rituals of various kinds, mostly funded centrally and managed by civic priests”. 56 Durkheim (1912) 62. 57 Harrison (1927) 487. 58 Boyer (2001) 23. Cf. Hedrick (2007) 283: “Religion is society’s worship of itself. Because it is thought to represent the absolute, religion has always been closely identified with acculturation, the inculcation of fundamental social values”. 59 Deacy (2007) 229–​31. 60 Burkert (1985) 335. 61 Burkert (1995) 202. For a thorough analysis of new cults, their social contexts and the influence of politics over them in Athens in the fifth century BC: Garland (1992). 62 Zaidman and Pantel (1995) 92–​ 101. The name of the second category that describes the mutual implication of political life and religious cult, the intra-​state implications, is mine; the term interstate implications is used by Zaidman and Pantel. 63 On how the history of the Acropolis points to that dynamic relationship between religion and politics: Zaidman and Pantel (1995) 97–​100. 64 Bremmer (1999); Hedrick (2007) 283; Evans (2010) 35–​62; Horster (2010) 179; Parker (2011) 57–​63: all arguing for the authority that the constitutional organs of the state exerted over religion discourse and practices; and Deacy (2007) 231–​214 who sheds welcome light on the manipulative use of religious discourses and practices by partisan politicians. 65 Dover (1974). 66 Mikalson (1983). 67 Parker (1997). 68 Parker (2011) 58.

Introduction  25 69 Martin (2009). 70 Serafim (2017). 71 Garland (1984) 75–​123. 72 Mikalson (2016) 189–​203. 73 Kindt (2009) 16–​35, (2012) 13–​25. Modern criticism may draw on Augustine’s influential separation of the secular “city of the earth”, which is corrupt, from the ideal City of the God. It may also echo the philosophical (especially in Xenophanes) and the sophistic segregation of religion from society. For a comprehensive discussion of the history of separation between religion and society:  Hedrick (2007) 283–​91. 74 On impiety and its punishment, see Chapter 4, pp. 132–133. 75 Arnaoutoglou (2011) 43. 76 I also calculated the quotient of the number of sections with references to matters of religious discourse in forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations and the total number of sections of these three oratorical genres in the whole corpus of the speeches of Attic orators. The conclusion that religious discourse is used more extensively in forensic speeches (11.1%) than in symbouleutic (7.8%) and epideictic (8.5%) speeches does not change. The conclusion remains the same, if one calculates the quotient of the number of sections with references to matters of religious discourse in each of the three genres of oratory and the total number of sections in the 151 extant speeches of Attic oratory: a distinct preponderance in using religious discourse in forensic speeches is apparent, with 7.75% in contrast to 1.3% in symbouleutic and 1.1% in epideictic speeches. 77 See n. 3. 78 The percentage given in the brackets is the quotient of the number of sections with references to matters of religious discourse and the total number of sections in the speeches of Demosthenes, 516 for the logographic speeches and 667 for speeches 18 and 19. 79 Rubinstein (2004) 187–​203, (2005) 129–​145.

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Introduction  27 Dover, K. J. (1974). Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dowden, K. (2007). Religion and Rhetoric. In I. Worthington, Ed., A Companion to Greek Rhetoric. Malden and Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 320–​334. Durkheim, E. (1912). The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. New  York:  Free Press. Easterling, P. E. (1991). Tragedy and Ritual: Cry, Woe, Woe, but May the God Prevail. Metis, 3, pp. 87–​109. Eidinow, E. (2007). Oracles, Curses and Risk Among the Ancient Greeks. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Evans, N. (2010). Civic Rites: Democracy and Religion in Ancient Athens. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Evelyn-​White, H. G., Ed. and trans. (1914). Hesiod: Works and Days. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Faraone, C. A. (1993). Molten Wax, Spilt Wine and Mutilated Animals: Sympathetic Magic in Near Eastern and Early Greek Oath-​Ceremonies. Journal of Hellenic Studies, 113, pp. 60–​80. Forster, E. S., Ed. and trans. (1962). Isaeus with an English Translation. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Foucault, M. (1969). L’Archéologie du savoir. Paris: Éditions Gallimard. Fowler, R. (2000). Greek Magic, Greek Religion. In: R. Buxton, Ed., Oxford Readings in Greek Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 317–​343. Freese, J. H. (1926). Aristotle in 23 Volumes. Vol. 22. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Friedrich, R. (1996). Everything to Do with Dionysos? Ritualism, the Dionysiac and the Tragic. In M. S. Silk, Ed., Tragedy and the Tragic: Greek Theatre and Beyond. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 257–​283. Furley, W. D. (2010). Prayers and Hymns. In: D. Ogden, Ed., A Companion to Greek Religion. Malden and Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 117–​131. Gagarin, M. (2013). Law and Religion in Early Greece. In:  A. C. Hagedorn and R. G. Kratz, Eds., Law and Religion in the Eastern Mediterranean: From Antiquity to Early Islam. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 59–​78. Garland, R. S. J. (1984). Religious Authority in Archaic and Classical Athens. Annual of the British School of Archaeology at Athens, 79, pp. 75–​123. Garland, R. S.  J. (1992). Introducing New Gods:  The Politics of Athenian Religion. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Garland, R. S. J. (1994). Religion and the Greeks. London: Bristol Classical Press. Geertz, C. (1973). Religion as a Cultural System. In: C. Geertz, Ed., The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays, London: Fontana Press, pp. 87–​125. Geertz, H. (1975). An Anthropology of Religion and Magic. Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 6, pp. 71–​89. Georgoudi, S. (1998). Sacrifices dans le monde grec: de la cité aux particuliers: quelques remarques. Ktèma, 23, pp. 325–​334. Giordano, M. (2011). Women’s Voice and Religious Utterances. Religions, 2, pp. 729–​743. Giorgieri, M. (2001). Aspetti magico-​religiosi del giuramento presso gli Ittiti e i Greci. In S. Ribichini and M. Rocchi, Eds., La questione delle influenze vicino-​orientali sulla religione greca: stato degli studi e prospettive della ricerca. Atti del Colloquio Internazionale di Roma. Rome, pp. 421–​440.

28 Introduction Goldhill, S. (1990). The Great Dionysia and Civic Ideology. In J. J. Winkler and F. Zeitlin, Eds., Nothing to Do with Dionysos? Athenian Drama in Social Context. Princeton: Princeton University Press, pp. 97–​129. Goodwin, W. W. (1874). Plutarch’s Morals. Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son. Goody, J. (1961). Religion and Ritual:  The Definition Problem. British Journal of Sociology, 12, pp. 142–​164. Gould, J. (2001). On Making Sense of Greek Religion. In: J. Gould, Ed., Myth, Ritual, Memory and Exchange:  Essays in Greek Literature and Culture. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, pp. 203–​134 (first published in P. Easterling and J. Muir, Eds., Greek Religion and Society. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1985, pp.  1–​33). Griffith-​Williams, B. (2013). A Commentary on Selected Speeches of Isaios. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Hamilton, M. B. (1995). The Sociology of Religion:  Theoretical and Comparative Perspectives. New York and London: Routledge. Hammond, D. (1970). Magic: A Problem of Semantics. American Anthropologist, 72, pp. 1349–​1356. Hansen, M. H. (1998). Polis and City-​State:  An Ancient Concept and Its Modern Equivalent. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. Hansen, M. H. (2000). A Survey of the Use of the Word Polis in Archaic and Classical Sources. In:  P. Flensted-​Jensen, Ed., Further Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, pp. 173–​215. Hansen, M. H., Ed. (2007). The Return of the Polis: The Use and Meanings of the Word Polis in Archaic and Classical Sources. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. Hansen, M. H. and T. H. Nielsen. (2004). An Inventory of Archaic and Greek Poleis: An Investigation Conducted by The Copenhagen Polis Centre for the Danish National Research Foundation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harris, E. M. (2015). Toward A  Typology of Greek Regulations:  About Religious Matters: A Legal Approach. Kernos, 28, pp. 55–​83. Harrison, A. W. (1971). The Law of Athens. Vol. 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harrison, J. E. (1927). Themis:  A Study of the Social Origins of Greek Religion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hedrick, C. W. (2007). Religion and Society in Classical Greek. In: D. Ogden, Ed., A Companion to Greek Religion. Malden and Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 283–​296. Horster, M. (2010). Religious Landscape and Sacred Ground: Relationships between Space and Cult in the Greek World. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 4, pp. 435–​458. Huddy, L. (2003). Group Identity and Political Cohesion. In: D. Sears, L. Huddy and R. Jervis, ed., Oxford Handbook of Political Psychology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 511–​558. Janko, R. (1992). The Iliad:  A Commentary. Volume IV:  books 13–​16. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jones, W. H. S., Ed. and trans. (1918). Pausanias: Description of Greece with an English Translation. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Jowett, B., Ed. and trans. (1881). Thucydides Translated into English: With Introduction, Marginal Analysis, Notes, and Indices. Volume 1. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Kapparis, K. A. (1999). Apollodoros, Against Neaira [D. 59]. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. Karavites, P. (1992). Promise Giving and Treaty Making:  Homer and the Near East. Leiden: Brill.

Introduction  29 Kindt, J. (2009). Polis Religion: A Critical Appreciation. Kernos, 22, pp. 9–​34. Kindt, J. (2012). Rethinking Greek Religion. Cambridge and New  York:  Cambridge University Press. Kitts, M. (2003). Not Barren is the Blood of Lambs:  Homeric Oath-​Sacrifice as Metaphorical Transformation. Kernos, 16, pp. 17–​34. Lamb, W. R. M., Ed. and trans. (1930). Lysias with an English Translation. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Lamb, W. R.  M. (1967). Plato in Twelve Volumes. Vol. 3.  Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Lanni, A. (1997). Spectator Sport or Serious Politics? Hoi periestēkotes and the Athenian Lawcourts. Journal of Hellenic Studies, 117, pp. 183–​189. Lateiner, D. (1995). Sardonic Smile:  Nonverbal Behaviour in Homeric Epic. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Lau, R. (1989). Individual and Contextual Influences on Group Identification. Social Psychology Quarterly, 52, pp. 220–​231. Lefkowitz, M. (2016). Euripides and the Gods. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lessa, L. (2006). Discursive Struggles within Social Welfare:  Restaging Teen Motherhood. The British Journal of Social Work, 36, pp. 283–​298. Maidment, K. J., Ed. and trans. (1968). Minor Attic Orators in Two Volumes. Vol. 1:  Antiphon, Andocides, with an English Translation. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Manville, P. B. (1997). The Origins of Citizenship in Ancient Athens. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Manville, P. B. (1994). Toward a New Paradigm of Athenian Citizenship. In:  A. L. Boegehold and A. C. Scafuro, Eds., Athenian Identity and Civic Ideology. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, pp. 21–​33. Martin, G. (2009). Divine Talk:  Religious Argumentation in Demosthenes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Martin, G. (2016). The Gods in the Athenian Assembly. In: E. Eidinow, J. Kindt and R. Osborne, Eds., Theologies of Ancient Greek Religion. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, pp. 281–​300. Mikalson, J. D. (1983). Athenian Popular Religion. Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press. Mikalson, J. D. (1991). Honor thy Gods: Popular Religion in Greek Tragedy. Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press. Mikalson, J. D. (2005). Ancient Greek Religion. Malden and Oxford:  Blackwell Publishing. Mikalson, J. D. (2016). New Aspects of Religion in Ancient Athens: Honors, Authorities, Esthetics and Society. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Miller, A. H., P. Gurin, G. Gurin and O. Malanchuk (1981). Group Consciousness and Political Participation. American Journal of Political Science, 25, pp. 494–​511. Mirhady, D. C. (2007). The Dikast’s Oath and the Question of Fact. In A. H. Sommerstein and J. Fletcher, Eds. Horkos: The Oath in Greek Society. Exeter: Bristol Phoenix Press, pp. 48–​59. Murray, A. T., Ed. and trans. (1939). Demosthenes with an English Translation. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Nilsson, M. (1972). Greek Folk Religion. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania  Press. Norlin, G., Ed. and trans. (1980). Isocrates with an English Translation. 3 Vols. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press.

30 Introduction Orlin, E. et  al. (2016). The Routledge Encyclopaedia of Ancient Mediterranean Religions. New York and London: Routledge. Osborne, R. (1993). Women and Sacrifice in Classical Greece. The Classical Quarterly, 43, pp. 392–​405. Parker, R. (1997). Athenian Religion: A History. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Parker, R. (2005). Polytheism and Society at Athens. Oxford:  Oxford University Press. Parker. R. (2011). On Greek Religion. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. Peels, S. (2015). Hosios: A Semantic Study of Greek Piety. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Pernot, L. (2005). The Rhetoric of Religion. Rhetorica, 24, pp. 235–​254. Pernot, L. (2009). New Chapters in the History of Rhetoric. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Philips, D. (2013). The Law in Ancient Athens. Ann Arbor:  The University of Michigan Press. Plescia, J. (1970). The Oath and Perjury in Ancient Greece. Tallahassee: Florida State University Press. Polignac, F. de. (1995). Cults, Territory, and the Origins of the Greek State. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Price, S. (1999). Religions of the Ancient Greeks. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pulleyn, S. (1997). Prayer in Greek Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rackham, H. (1944). Aristotle. 23 Vols; Vol. 21. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Rose, H. J. (1946). Ancient Greek Religion. New York, Melbourne, Sydney and Cape Town: Hutchinson’s University Library. Rubinstein, L. (2004). Stirring up Dicastic Anger. In: D. L. Cairns and R. A. Knox, Eds., Law, Rhetoric, and Comedy in Classical Athens. Essays in honour of Douglas M. MacDowell. Wales: Classical Press of Wales, pp. 187–​203. Rubinstein, L. (2005). Differentiated Rhetorical Strategies in the Athenian Courts. In: M. Gagarin and D. Cohen, Eds., The Cambridge Companion to Ancient Greek Law. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 129–​145. Saladino, V. (1998). Aspetti rituali del giuramento Greco. In: A. Calore, Ed., Seminari di storia e di diritto antico, 2, Studi sul giuramento nel mondo antico. Milan, pp. 87–​106. Serafim, A. (2017). Attic Oratory and Performance. New York: Routledge. Sommerstein, A. H. and I. C. Torrance. (2014). Oaths and Swearing in Ancient Greece. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Sourvinou-​ Inwood, C. (1988). Further Aspects of Polis Religion. AION, 10, pp. 259–​274. Sourvinou-​Inwood, C. (1990). What is Polis Religion? In:  O. Murray and S. Price, Eds., The Greek City: From Homer to Alexander. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 295–​322. Sourvinou-​Inwood, C. (2000). Further Aspects of Polis Religion. In: R. Buxton, Ed., Oxford Readings in Greek Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 38–​55. Sourvinou-​Inwood, C. (2003). Tragedy and Athenian Religion. Lanham: Lexington Books. Sourvinou-​Inwood, C. (2005). Greek Tragedy and Ritual. In R. Bushnell, Ed., A Companion to Tragedy. Malden and Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 7–​24.

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1  Religious discourse in Attic oratory A full survey

As argued in the Introduction, the connection of rhetoric with religion is, in a twofold sense, indisputable:  religion is always open to being debated and articulated; rhetoric, in other words, has been the major vehicle through which religion is phrased, discussed, analyzed and propagated. Rhetoric in its broad sense –​i.e. words spoken in a particular context or written for an audience –​ is used to address the divine, to invoke the gods, to talk about the sacred, to express piety and to articulate, refer to, recite or explain the meaning of hymns, oaths, prayers, oracles and other signs. A wealth of information taken from a wide range of ancient sources enhances our knowledge of the ways in which religion permeated law, oratory and politics. We know of rituals that took place on, before or after the sessions of the law court or the Assembly in Athens; we can confidently affirm the influence of the gods or the divine on legislation, legal statutes and processes; we have a good idea about customs or practices that acquire both legal and religious significance, such as oaths, prayers and curses; and we have examined some of the recurrent aspects of religious discourse, as they are incorporated in the speeches of Attic oratory. These recurrent aspects may include references to pollution, treason, heroism and patriotism, invocations to the gods and references to divinized agents, such as fortune –​references we know have been exploited by speakers to the best rhetorical effect. Despite this wide spectrum of research, however, there is a notable lack of a single and coherent survey that discusses the main forms of religious discourse, as used in the orations of each of the Ten Attic Orators. A  few attempts have been made in classical scholarship to refer summarily to the forms of religious discourse in some of the transmitted speeches of Attic oratory. D. King, M. Vielberg, H. Montgomery, W. Furley and G. Martin,1 and a few commentators who explore the content of selected speeches,2 offer useful but inherently limited assessments of the use of religious discourse in oratory. The focus on specific orators (e.g. a narrow focus on specific speeches, as in the case of Vielberg, who examines Lycurgus’ speech Against Leocrates) together with some other restrictions (e.g. time and theme restrictions, as in the case of Furley, who explores speeches between 420 and 399 BC, and focuses mainly on references to the punishment of pollution), leave these existing overviews

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  33 incomplete. Their incomplete character is exacerbated by the fact that the speeches that have come down to us in a textual form include a wide range of references to, and manifestations of, the bonds between religion and the Athenian community. As mentioned in the Introduction to this book, a search of the whole body of the transmitted speeches reveals 931 sections of the oratorical speeches with references to a wide range of matters of religion.3 We should also bear in mind that Attic speeches are not thematically and stylistically homogeneous, but they fall into three categories of genre: forensic (with a further distinction between public and private speeches), symbouleutic and epideictic speeches.4 There is no systematic, comprehensive work that refers to the fundamental, i.e. the recurrent, features of religious discourse in all three genres. The aim of this chapter is to provide a comprehensive, full-​scale survey of the main features and manifestations of religious discourse in the forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of Aeschines, Andocides, Antiphon, Demosthenes, Dinarchus, Hypereides, Isaeus, Isocrates, Lycurgus and Lysias.5 It is not possible to compile a list of every single feature of religious discourse: such a list would be long, perhaps also convoluted, and not easily followed by the reader. This chapter, therefore, refers to the main forms of religious argumentation, i.e. the consistently and recurrently used features, or those situated in emotionally heightened contexts or other parts of the speech where narrative and argument have intense significance. What kind of presence do the gods or, in more abstract terms, the divine, have in the speeches? Are there any major categories of religious discourse that run through the whole corpus of speeches of the Ten Attic Orators? These surveys, however condensed they will inevitably be (or look), will enable us to reconstruct a coherent overarching picture of the main topics or approaches that each orator relies on in his speeches, thus making possible a deeper appreciation of the use of religion in the decision-​making forums, and facilitating the discussion of its importance in the subsequent chapters of this book.

Aeschines There are three extant speeches under the name of Aeschines:  Against Timarchus, On the False Embassy and Against Ctesiphon. The first speech, Against Timarchus, is a good source of information about the rituals that took place in the sessions of the Assembly and the Boulē (§23), ritualistic topography in Athens (§60; cf. Antiphon 6.45) and sacred festivals (§43). It also includes several invocations to the gods, which are distributed evenly throughout the speech (§§28: νὴ Δία “by Zeus”, 55: μὰ τὸν Δία τὸν Ὀλύμπιον “by the Olympian Zeus”, 69–​70, 73, 75–​6, 79, 81, 87, 98, 108, 116). Invocations to the gods, in this speech and the rest of the corpus of Attic orators, have three distinct forms: simple vocative, prepositional phrases and oaths containing particles such as νὴ and μά. Aeschines is good at associating the political offences that Timarchus and his lovers are accused of committing with religious offences,

34  Religious discourse in Attic oratory as in §67, where Hegesandros is presented as being guilty of double crimes, against both the gods and the laws. Aeschines is good at employing religious discourse to cover up weaknesses in his legal argumentation. The most frequent use of the noun phēmē is in the first two speeches of Aeschines: it is used 17 times in Aeschines’ Against Timarchus (1.48, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131)  and On the False Embassy (2.144, 145, 166). Aeschines was vulnerable to criticism about the lack of proofs to substantiate his allegations that Timarchus was a male prostitute, but, by repeatedly referring to the deified personification of rumour, Φήμη, as an infallible and truthful witness, he provides a “religious” proof of the accusations that are levelled against Timarchus and his fellows. N. Fisher is right to argue that “the careful elaboration of phēmē, as a power spreading unerringly and automatically throughout the city, revealing details of private lives and even predicting the future, cunningly legitimizes gossip about private lives by implying (before making this explicit) that ‘Report’ is a divine being, a deified personification, and it is therefore right to attend to her”.6 Aeschines is not the first to personify phēmē, as a line from Oedipus Tyrannus clearly indicates (158: εἰπέ μοι, ὦ χρυσέας τέκνον Ἐλπίδος, ἄμβροτε Φάμα “tell me, child of golden Hope, immortal Oracle!”),7 where it is indicated that phēmē is divinized only in the senses of “omen” and “prophecy”. Aeschines is, arguably, exceptional in attributing an invariable divine status to phēmē, as in 1.127–​130: περὶ δὲ τὸν τῶν ἀνθρώπων βίον καὶ τὰς πράξεις ἀψευδής τις ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου πλανᾶται φήμη κατὰ τὴν πόλιν, καὶ διαγγέλλει τοῖς πολλοῖς τὰς ἰδίας πράξεις, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ μαντεύεται περὶ τῶν μελλόντων ἔσεσθαι. […] εὑρήσετε καὶ τὴν πόλιν ἡμῶν καὶ τοὺς προγόνους φήμης ὡς θεοῦ μεγίστης βωμὸν ἱδ ρυμένους, καὶ τὸν Ὅμηρον πολλάκις ἐν τῇ Ἰλιάδι λέγοντα πρὸ τοῦ τι τῶν μελλόντων γενέσθαι: ‘φήμη δ᾽ εἰς στρατὸν ἦλθε,’ καὶ πάλιν τὸν Εὐριπίδην ἀποφαινόμενον τὴν θεὸν ταύτην οὐ μόνον τοὺς ζῶντας ἐμφανίζειν δυναμένην, ὁποῖοί τινες ἂν τυγχάνωσιν ὄντες, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοὺς τετελευτηκότας, ὅταν λέγῃ, “φήμη τὸν ἐσθλὸν κἀν μυχῷ δείκνυσι γῆ” ὁ δ᾽ Ἡσίοδος καὶ διαρρήδην θεὸν αὐτὴν ἀποδείκνυσι, πάνυ σαφῶς φράζων τοῖς βουλομένοις συνιέναι: λέγει γάρ, “φήμη δ᾽ οὔτις πάμπαν ἀπόλλυται, ἥντινα λαοὶ πολλοὶ φημίξωσι: θεός νύ τίς ἐστι καὶ αὐτή”. καὶ τούτων τῶν ποιημάτων τοὺς μὲν εὐσχημόνως βεβιωκότας εὑρήσετε ἐπαινέτας ὄντας: πάντες γὰρ οἱ δημοσίᾳ φιλότιμοι παρὰ τῆς ἀγαθῆς φήμης ἡγοῦνται τὴν δόξαν κομιεῖσθαι:  οἷς δ᾽ αἰσχρός ἐστιν ὁ βίος, οὐ τιμῶσι τὴν θεὸν ταύτην: κατήγορον γὰρ αὐτὴν ἀθάνατον ἔχειν ἡγοῦνται. ἀναμνήσθητε οὖν, ὦ ἄνδρες, τίνι κέχρησθε φήμῃ περὶ Τιμάρχου. οὐχ ἅμα τοὔνομα λέγεται καὶ τὸ ἐρώτημα ἐρωτᾶτε:  ‘ποῖος Τίμαρχος; ὁ πόρνος;’ ἔπειτα εἰ μὲν μάρτυρας παρειχόμην περί τινος, ἐπιστεύετ᾽ ἄν μοι:  εἰ δὲ τὴν θεὸν μάρτυρα παρέχομαι, οὐ πιστεύσετε; ᾗ οὐδὲ ψευδομαρτυρίων θέμις ἐστὶν ἐπισκήψασθαι. But in the case of the life and conduct of men, Common Report which is unerring does of itself spread abroad throughout the city; it causes the

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  35 private deed to become matter of public knowledge, and many a time it even prophesies what is about to be. […] You will find that both our city and our forefathers dedicated an altar to Common Report, as one of the greatest gods; and you will find that Homer again and again in the Iliad says, of a thing that has not yet come to pass, “Common Report came to the host”; and again you will find Euripides declaring that this god is able not only to make known the living, revealing their true characters, but the dead as well, when he says, “Common Report shows forth the good man, even though he be in the bowels of the earth”; and Hesiod expressly represents her as a goddess, speaking in words that are very plain to those who are willing to understand, for he says, “But Common Report dies never, the voice that tongues of many men do utter. She, too, then, is divine”. You will find that all men whose lives have been decorous praise these verses of the poets. For all who are ambitious for honour from their fellows believe that it is from good report that fame will come to them. But men whose lives are shameful pay no honour to this god, for they believe that in her they have a deathless accuser. Call to mind, therefore, fellow citizens, what common report you have been accustomed to hear in the case of Timarchus. The instant the name is spoken you ask, do you not, “What Timarchus do you mean? The prostitute?” Furthermore, if I had presented witnesses concerning any matter, you would believe me; if then I present the god as my witness, will you refuse to believe? But she is a witness against whom it would be impiety even to bring complaint of false testimony. (Translation: Carey (2000) 67; emphasis is mine) Aeschines, it seems, misrepresents Hesiod’s Works and Days lines 760–​764 to propagate his own definition of phēmē. Hesiod urges Perses, his brother, to avoid phēmē because of its negative qualities and its persistence, as it is hard to  be rid of, since if many people spread rumours, rumour is never extinguished. It is in this specific way that phēmē is divine. Any other reference in the Works and Days does not point to the divine character of phēmē, but to its function as commemoration of victorious expeditions, as, for example, in 9.101 where we are told that “the rumour of a victory won by the Greeks with Pausanias was true”. Herodotus also uses phēmē in the sense of a portent (1.43) and good news.8 Aeschines’ reference to Homer is equally inaccurate and misleading, since nowhere in the two epics that are attributed to him does the narrator describe, or even allude to, phēmē as a goddess. In fact, no reference to phēmē is made in the Iliad, while in the Odyssey the notion rather means “significant utterance” (2.35; 20.100, 105), as Fisher argues.9 A term similar to phēmē is phēmis, which can be found in both epics (Iliad 10.207; Odyssey 6.273, 15.468, 16.75, 19.527, 24.201). Despite some scholars (e.g. F. G. Welcker and B. Marzullo)10 arguing that Aeschines’ reference to phēmē in Homer may have been taken from the lost poem Little Iliad, which refers to the events prior to the devastation of

36  Religious discourse in Attic oratory Troy,11 it is more probable that Aeschines fictionalized the reference to Homer to maximize the believability of his argument about the divine status of phēmē.12 Even if Aeschines presents a false account about Hesiod and Homer, and possibly also about Euripides, as Fisher tends to believe,13 it would be thought that he is still in line with Athenian beliefs. This is not the case either:  the Scholia on Aeschines 1.127–​129 show that the speaker presents a story about an altar in Athens in a misleading way to substantiate his view about phēmē. In §128, in particular, Aeschines claims: “you will find that both our city and our forefathers dedicated an altar to phēmē, as one of the greatest gods”.14 The altar to phēmē, however, was constructed to commemorate the news that Cimon was victorious in Pamphylia (466 BC), not to honour rumour itself (Scholia in Aeschinem 279a).15 Aeschines, arguably, relies on the “multivalence” of phēmē:  phēmē has divine associations in certain contexts, as indicated above, but phēmē as rumour, as general repute or saying, does not. The semantic field of the term phēmē provided Aeschines with space to make phēmē in the sense of “rumour” into a deity. References to fortune, τύχη, are another feature of religious discourse in Aeschines’ second speech. Fortune is represented as a powerful agency that determined the political situation in Greece (§§118, 183), a presentation that is in line with the portrayal of fortune in Demosthenes’ speeches, especially his speech On the Crown, as will be shown later in this chapter. It is remarkable, however, that speech 3 contains fewer instances of religious discourse than the other two speeches of Aeschines, thus partly undermining the argument of Montgomery that religious discourse was applied consistently throughout all the speeches of Aeschines, with speech 2 in particular aiming to convey the impression that religion is a serious matter for Aeschines.16 It is true that religion is a serious rhetorical strategy for Aeschines, but religious discourse is not used evenly throughout his three transmitted speeches, and certainly not in speech 2. Speech 3, Against Ctesiphon, is the richest speech in the corpus of Aeschines’ speeches in its use of religious discourse that is evenly distributed from the beginning to the end. The speech starts in §1 with a topos that signifies the intermingling of religion and law: Aeschines points out that he trusts the gods, the laws and the judges to make the most righteous decision at the end of the trial. The speaker reminds the judges of the oath they swore to tell the truth (§§6, 8, 127, 233 where it is mentioned that such oaths pursue the judges until they cast their verdict, 257), an oath that he himself would abide by (§120). Unlike the judges and himself, however, Demosthenes is repeatedly being accused of fabricating stories and involving the gods in his lies, attempting to deceive the Athenians (§§77, 99).17 Aeschines also reminds the judges of their duty to punish whomever has committed a sacrilege of this sort (§121).18 The punishment of people who committed sacrilege is a topic of fundamental importance in this speech 3. In two blocks of sections, §§129–​131 and

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  37 §§132–​134, Aeschines puts more flesh on the bones of this issue: first claiming that the gods protect Athens by sending signs to the citizens of the dangers being provoked by sacrilegious people, then reminding the Athenians of the fate of those who perpetrate sacrilege (e.g. the Persian king who channelled Athos and bridged the Hellespont). Religious discourse, as presented in Aeschines’ speech 3, has a moralizing dimension in the sense that it points to the function of religion to make people behave properly. No society would work without a set of moral or ethical rules (beyond the secular socio-​political norms and legal statutes) that set a framework to limit the actions or the behaviour of people towards others, and that help to thwart injustices, crimes, impiety and sacrileges, contributing, therefore, to a social, legal and moral harmonizing of the whole community. Fearing the gods is a workable incentive to ethical behaviour, since it assumes that the inspection is constant and persistent, and that the resulted sanctions are eternal. In Isocrates’ words, in 11.25, “those who in the beginning inspired in us our fear of the gods, brought it about that we in our relations to one another are not altogether like wild beasts”. In addition to these important references to the punishment of sacrilegious individuals, another feature of religious discourse in the third speech of Aeschines carries much weight: it is the reference to the Athenian democracy as being protected by the gods and the laws (§196). The belief that democracy is protected by the gods and, by extension, the idea that religion sustains the political constitution of Athens, is also consistently deployed in the speeches of Demosthenes and Lycurgus, as the surveys of their speeches that follow indicate.

Andocides Four speeches have come down to us in a textual form under the name of Andocides: On the Mysteries, On his Return, On the Peace with Sparta and Against Alcibiades. There are only a few references to the gods and the divine in these speeches, the most extensive being in the first speech, where references start from the exordium and are evenly distributed throughout the speech until the peroration. The first reference to matters of religious discourse can be found in §9, where the importance of the oath for the judges and the city is underlined. References to the significance of the oath are a major thread that runs throughout this speech (§§31–​32, 90, 107, 149) and others: On the Peace with Sparta §22; Against Alcibiades §21 where the judges are reprimanded for treating Alcibiades as more important than their oath and §39 where the former is accused of disregarding the oath and desiring other people to mimic his impudence. References to the oath in the speeches of Andocides serve an interrelated twofold purpose: to accuse the speaker’s opponents of being impious (cf. there are abundant references to impiety in the On the Mysteries speech, §§10, 29, 58, 71, 116), and thus deserving to be punished by the judges (as in §§74–​76, 88); and to urge the latter to bear in mind that their verdict

38  Religious discourse in Attic oratory should hit two targets, the protection of the polis and the display of respect to gods.

Antiphon The use of religious discourse is restrained in the six speeches transmitted under the name of Antiphon. Three of these speeches are forensic, Against the Stepmother for Poisoning, On the Murder of Herodes and On the Choreutes; and the other three are Tetralogies. A major thread is about the negative religious connotations that murder may have: in the first speech, we are told that the murder the stepmother committed is an act of impiety (§27; cf. 6.5) and that the gods are mindful of the wronged (§31), while, in the Second Tetralogy, it is mentioned that a murderer would profane the sanctity of the divine precincts by setting foot within them (2.2.10; 5.11, 12, 15). The stepmother is accused of being a murderer, i.e. of killing her husband and of committing the serious offence of impiety that is considered as being attached to the act of a murder. Impiety, even when committed by an individual, risks the punishment of the whole community; there were, therefore, dire legal consequences for the perpetrators, from the death penalty to exile, loss of political rights (atimia) and confiscation of property. As I have argued elsewhere, existing rhetorical and non-​rhetorical sources underline that the Athenians thought that it was their obligation, not simply a right, to take retribution for (individualistic) impiety, if they wanted not to make the gods angry or turn them against the whole community (Antiphon 4.1.3; Isocrates 16.6; Lysias 6.3, 10, 53; Pseudo-​ Demosthenes 59.77; Euripides, The Phoenician Women 69–​74; Herodotus 7.133–​137; Xenophon, Hellenica 5.2.32, 5.4.1).19 Repeated references to religious-​like matters also have to do with the verdict that the judges should cast: acquittal of the defendant is presented as being an act of piety and justice (2.4.12; 3.2.11, 3.2.12: ὁσίως καὶ δικαίως ἀπολύετε ἡμᾶς “acquit us as godly and just men should”; 3.3.11; 4.4.11; 5.8; 5.62; 6.3). The speeches of Antiphon also accommodate some of the most widespread beliefs in classical Athens: for example, that the gods punish humans for any offences they have committed. This is what we are told in 3.3.8, where Antiphon claims that if the misfortune of the lad, who died after being struck by a javelin, was a piece of divine retribution for his past offences, he deserves punishment all the more, as it was the gods’ will that he should be punished. Attic oratory, as the survey of the speeches of the rest of the Ten Attic Orators indicates, is replete with references to the decisive role that the gods and other supernatural agents play in human affairs, supporting the pious or punishing the impious (other references in Antiphon’s speeches include 4.1.2: whoever kills people turns against the gods and the law of the polis; 4.4.10: the wrath of heaven will fall upon those guilty of error; 5.82: polluted wretches bind the whole city to a destructive mode). An extension of this belief lurks behind the references to prosecutors who fabricate or distort the truth to slander their opponents:  they sin against

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  39 the gods and invite divine retribution (4.2.2, 7, 8). Sycophancy and slander were considered a blight on the Athenian democracy. There is evidence for the enmity felt by Athenians towards sycophants. Aristotle, for example, notes that calumny is productive of hatred and anger (Rhetoric 1382a2–​3; Aristophanes’ Acharnians 725–​6, 517–​9).20 Antiphon, by presenting the prosecutors as sycophants and slanderers, who are enemies of the gods, and thus destined to be punished by them, masterfully exploits and increases the enmity of the audience against the offenders, in an effort to determine the outcome of the trial. Antiphon forms his argument carefully:  he does not want the audience to think that the gods represent the inevitable punishing agents. He, therefore, emphasizes that it was the duty of the judges to cast their verdict in accordance with the will of the gods by acquitting himself and condemning his opponents.21 There are also several references in Antiphon’s speeches on issues of homicide (both those which were delivered in court and those written as exercises for presenting cases about murders) to how the gods inspect the judges when they are about to make decisions (e.g. 1.25; 3.2.11; 3.3.12; 6.3).22 The ballot in the ancient law court was secret and, in practice, nobody could ever know exactly how each of the judges voted, while, at the same time, none of the judges was obliged to undergo the state process of examination of accounts (euthyna or euthynai) after the end of his judgeship.23 Antiphon’s reference to “divine inspection” and the implied omnipresence and omniscience of the gods aims, therefore, to offer a subtle surrogate for the audit process and elicit strong emotional reactions among the judges (e.g. anxiety, fear, apprehension) –​reactions that have the potential to win over the audience and create a cognitive/​mental disposition in the judges that would serve the speaker’s purposes.

Demosthenes We are lucky to have a great wealth of extant Demosthenic speeches, 61 in total. Among them, 17 speeches are symbouleutic (Olynthiac 1, 2 and 3; Philippic 1, 2, 3, 4; On the Peace; On the Halonnesus; On the Chersonese; Reply to Philip; Philip; On Organization; On the Navy; On the Liberty of the Rhodians; For the Megalopolitans; On the Accession of Alexander); 10 are forensic public speeches (On the Crown; On the False Embassy; Against Leptines; Against Meidias; Against Androtion; Against Aristocrates; Against Timocrates; Against Aristogeiton 1 and 2; and Against Neaira, a speech that is mostly attributed to Apollodorus, however); 32 are forensic private speeches (Against Aphobus 1, 2, 3; Against Onetor 1 and 2; Against Zenothemis; Against Apaturius; Against Phormio; Against Lacritus; For Phormio; Against Pantaenetus; Against Nausimachus and Xenopeithes; Against Boeotus 1 and 2; Against Spudias; Against Phaenippus; Against Macartatus; Against Leochares; Against Stephanus 1 and 2; Against Evergus and Mnesibulus; Against Olympiodorus; Against Timotheus; Against Polycles; On the Trierarchic Crown;

40  Religious discourse in Attic oratory Against Callippus; Against Nicostratus; Against Conon; Against Callicles; Against Dionysodorus; Against Eubulides; Against Theocrines); and two come under the rubric of epideictic oratory (Funeral Oration and Erotic Essay). The sheer volume of the Demosthenic corpus and the associated number of references to religion mean that the following survey is inevitably somewhat condensed. The approach I have taken, therefore, is to attempt to categorize the main, i.e. the repeated, features of religious discourse in the totality of this body of work in order to enhance our knowledge of the topics used, and the sections within the speeches where these features are used, so that we can more thoroughly discuss the fundamental aspects of religious discourse in the subsequent chapters of this book. Epideictic speeches Religious discourse in Demosthenes’ Funeral Oration is as restrained as in the transmitted funeral orations of Hypereides and Lysias. There are but a few references that may acquire religious character: to the forefathers of the Athenians who must be seated beside the gods (§34) and to the gods who allowed foreign enemies to win the Athenians (§§19, 21; cf. Lysias, Funeral Speech 58). Both the features of religious discourse in Demosthenes’ Funeral Oration, and in fact its sparing use, are in line with the other two extant funeral orations in which people who defend the gods are presented as being blessed and lavishly awarded. Topics of religious discourse in funerals are, in principle, generally centred on the relationship between humans and the gods.24 Religious discourse is slightly more pronounced in scale in the Erotic Essay of Demosthenes –​I counted ten references compared to three in the Funeral Oration. Despite this slight divergence in the frequency of the use of religious discourse, the main principle is the same as that in the funeral:  references are made to several facets of the relationship between the gods and humans, either through mentions of the favour of the gods and fortune towards people (§§8, 9, 11, and 13 where it is mentioned that natural beauty is a god-​granted gift, 31)  or through references to their resentment towards and subsequent punishment of base men (§32).25 The Erotic Essay, in §14, expresses a fundamental idea about the interconnection between religion and the polis: that “fortune has taken qualities mutually contradictory and causes them all to be properly harmonized”. This is a surprising topic in the sense that it diverges from what one might expect to find in an essay about Eros, but it is certainly the main idea that lurks behind the theory about “polis religion” that has become, as mentioned in the Introduction, a fundamental methodological vehicle for understanding ancient Greek religion. Religion and the polis come together in public speaking, with the aim of pressurizing people to support morality and protect social harmony and cohesion. Religion is a means of sparing people from existential angsts, supporting social cohesion and organization and of putting

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  41 societal and political life in order. It is not something added to human life and culture; it organizes life. That is why religion is enduring across time, with staying power and cross-​cultural ubiquity. To see the world as a place of intentional design and to attribute inhomogeneous and conflictive aspects of the natural world to someone or something is, in fact, an attempt to allay or soothe existential anxieties, and thus reinforce unity and communality, especially at times of uncertainty; in other words, it serves to bring communities together and champion (the illusion of) order and harmony. This is what anthropologists call functionalism:  the idea that certain beliefs, practices or concepts make it possible for certain social relations to operate.26 Symbouleutic speeches The most fundamental aspect of religious discourse in the symbouleutic speeches of Demosthenes consists of recurrent references to the polis as being favoured and blessed by the gods and other divinized powers, such as fortune (τύχη). Examples can be found in the Olynthiacs (1.10; 2.1, 22) and Philippics (1.12, 37, 45; 4.24, 31).27 The attempted connection of the gods, the divine and religion in general, with the polis is also recurrently used in the symbouleutic speeches of Isocrates. The consistent use of this topic in symbouleutic speeches makes it feasible for us to suggest that this is a landmark in this generic category of oratory.28 There are also references to the gods and fortune as intervening in human affairs (Olynthiac 1.11) to guarantee the success of pious individuals (Olynthiac 3.26; On the Chersonese 20) and the destruction of impious or haughty individuals or civic communities (On the Liberty of the Rhodians 2 where Demosthenes attributes Rhodes’ loss of independence to the gods; Philippic 3.54).29 References that fall under the same rubric as those used in other speeches of Attic oratory can also be found in the symbouleutic speeches of Demosthenes. An example is the insistent references to oaths and their connection with politics (On the Chersonese 5; Philippic 3.16; Philip 1, 8, 15; On the Liberty of the Rhodians 26; implicitly in For the Megalopolitans 9, with a reference to sworn agreements that is in line with analogous references to sworn agreements in On the Accession of Alexander 5, 14 and more explicit references to the interconnection between oaths and politics in §§1, 2, 8, 10, 12–​13 of the same speech). A few invocations to the gods, of the same formulaic form as those used elsewhere in Attic oratory, can be found in the symbouleutic speeches of Demosthenes (Olynthiac 3.17; Philippics 2.37, 3.31, 54, 65, 4.7, 20, 27; On the Chersonese 32, 34, 49, 51; On Organization 16; On the Liberty of the Rhodians 21, 26). Forensic public speeches Religious discourse is used more frequently in the ten extant public speeches of Demosthenes than in any other category of his speeches. Discourse

42  Religious discourse in Attic oratory consists of references that have the same thematic fabric as those found in the forensic speeches of the other Attic orators. There are, specifically, numerous references to: a. Oaths and the obligation for the judges to abide by them (On the Crown 2, 7, 27, 30, 32, 121, 181, 187, 217, 250; On the False Embassy 17, 36, 44, 58, 94, 132, 134, 150, 158–​159, 161, 164, 171, 279, 284, 292, 318; Against Leptines 95, 118–​119, 167; Against Meidias 4, 17, 24, 34, 42, 65, 177; Against Androtion 20, 39, 43, 45–​46; Against Aristocrates 97; Against Timocrates 2, 35, 58, 78, 90, 148–​149, 188, 191; Against Neaira 3, 10, 78); b. The decisive intervention of the gods and fortune in human affairs that influences or determines people’s lives and actions. A  distinct preponderance of such references is a remarkable feature of Demosthenes’ On the Crown: throughout this speech the speaker uses terms, such as θεός (§§193, 198, 200, 290), δαίμων (§192), τύχη (§§97, 194–​195, 207–​208, 253, 300), μοῖρα (§289), εἱμαρμένη (§195) to underline the role that the gods and other unpredictable divinized agents play in determining human affairs. One of the prominent parallels to Demosthenes’ “divine apparatus” is Hypereides in Against Diondas 136v30–​137v8: “If you failed to achieve your objectives in the battle, there is nothing remarkable in that; but it was in choosing the noble cause that you failed and in believing that you should set the Greeks free by the risks that you ran as in the past. Wherever there is risk one must credit the initiatives and the undertakings to the agents, but credit the outcomes to fortune”. A wide range of other sources indicate, in line with Demosthenes, that human life plays out according to the whims of τύχη.30 The exaggerated attention that Demosthenes pays to the decisive role of the gods and fortune in determining human affairs and actions has an indelible rhetorical flavour: Demosthenes, in his On the Crown oration, uses any means to refute Aeschines’ accusations that his bad judgment and thoughtless policies with regard to the relations between Athens and Macedon brought sorry consequences to the polis and its people. Trying to exonerate himself completely from any accusation that might be levelled against him in this regard, Demosthenes exploits the analogy between himself and a ship-​owner, who had taken every possible precaution for the eventuality of a storm and bears no responsibility for the shipwreck arising from a storm (§194). It should be noted, at this point, that Demosthenes’ strategy is not strictly consistent throughout his speeches, but tailored to the expediency of the occasion. To avoid the potential risk involved in stressing the impiety of his opponents, in that the hearer may conclude that such persons will inevitably fall victim to divine punishment with or without the judges’ verdict, Demosthenes himself tries in his speeches to distance the secular-​legal rule from divine justice. In §71 of the On the Crown speech, for example, he implies that, while the divine volition is for Aeschines to

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  43

c.

d.

e. f.

g.

be punished, the gods do not represent the inevitable punishing agents. In Olynthiac 2.23, Demosthenes also acknowledges the role of human agency, arguing that foreign policy is also affected by the decisive actions or the idleness of people, despite the (un)favourable predisposition of the gods.31 He then provides an example that would hurt the Athenian audience: Philip, Demosthenes claims, “presents at every action, neglects‌no chance and wastes no season”, while the Athenians waste the bene­volence of the gods with their procrastination. Demosthenes, thus, emphasizes that it was the duty of the Athenians, whether judges or citizens, to reach decisions that would befit the will of the gods and would effectively protect the best interests of their city. The penalties paid by individuals or whole communities, if they enraged the gods (On the Crown 155 with a reference to the Amphissians; On the False Embassy 73, 197). There are also references to good or bad fortune attached to individuals (see, for example, On the Crown 249 where Demosthenes claims that, by favour of the gods and citizens, he came through unscathed; in §300 there is a reference to good fortune that is attached to Philip; Against Meidias 14, 128, 212); Prayers and references to sacrifices, which both aim to appease the gods (as in On the Crown 86, 184, 216). The duty of the judges to reach a verdict that would show their reverence of the gods is another important feature of religious discourse in the public speeches of Demosthenes (as in the pseudo-​Demosthenic Against Neaira 15, 74, 77, 114); The role of the gods in protecting Athenian democracy (as in On the False Embassy 280), an idea that is in line with the consistently similar references in Aeschines and Lycurgus; Historical exempla:  people who were punished for being impious. In Against Neaira 116, the speaker refers to the punishment of Archias, the hierophant (i.e. the high-​priest of the temple at Eleusis), who was convicted in court of impiety and of offering sacrifices contrary to the ancestral rites; References to the (alleged) religious allegiances, behaviour or practices of Demosthenes’ opponents. One such reference can be found in 18.259–​260, where Demosthenes attributes a rhythmic cry and dance to Aeschines, who is accused of attending apocryphal rites: εὐοῖ σαβοῖ is a shout associated with the worship of Bacchus, while ὑῆς ἄττης ὑῆς is associated with Sabazius. Demosthenes may have provided information about an amalgamation of cults. Martin argues that elements of the description of the cults by Demosthenes belong to Dionysus (as, for example, the fawnskin that is attested on Attic vases), some others point to Orphism (as do both the reference to the reading of sacred books and the wearing of crowns made of white poplar), while the ritualistic cry “Hyes Attes! Attes Hyes!” may point to the cult of the Mother.32 Even though these cults were not by themselves negative or condemnable, they are used by Demosthenes as a means of undermining the public authority of Aeschines in two possible ways:  first, by referring to his humble economic standing and

44  Religious discourse in Attic oratory his marginalized social status; and second, by presenting him as being a foreigner. Aeschines is subtly accused of carrying out menial, religiously flavoured jobs (such as reading out the books at the initiation rites and taking care of the use of paraphernalia) with women and drunk men because his economically and socially degraded family was in utter need of money.33 As I have also argued elsewhere: Demosthenes’ references to Aeschines’ participation in mystical rituals may have also been intended to cast doubt on Aeschines’ origins, seeking to alienate him from the law court audience by implying that he was of foreign birth. The Sabazian rites were imported to Athens from barbaric places like Phrygia or Thrace. Demosthenes himself was the target of various accusations levelled by Aeschines that he was a foreigner by birth (as in Aeschines 2.22–​23), and it may be that Demosthenes, in the passages cited above, was in part trying to turn the tables on his rival. This is perhaps more possible if we bear in mind that Aeschines never stops boasting about his purely Athenian origins (as he does, for example, in 2.23). Demosthenes might have wanted to undermine or diminish the impact that these self-​promoting references of Aeschines would have upon the audience. (Serafim (2019) 241–​242) Demosthenes’ public speeches also contain invocations to the gods (as, for example, in On the Crown 13, 111, 142, 285, 324; On the False Embassy 16, 285, 308; Against Leptines 21, 23, 25, 49, 66, 110, 157, 167; Against Meidias 2, 66, 98, 108, 172, 198; Against Androtion 78; Against Aristocrates 5, 61, 106, 210; Against Timocrates 186; Against Aristogeiton 1 14, 25, 56, 65, 73; Against Aristogeiton 2 19)  and other divinized entities (as, for example, in On the Crown 294: ὦ γῆ καὶ θεοὶ “Earth and Gods”).34 Forensic private speeches Demosthenes’ forensic private speeches are greater in number than his speeches in any other category. One might, therefore, expect that this plethora of speeches would result in many instances of religious discourse. In practice, however, religious discourse in this category of speeches is used only rarely and intermittently. Its main features fall under the following four categories: a. References to oaths (Against Aphobus 1.68; 3.13, 23, 52–​54 with a reference in the last section to imprecations if someone swears falsely, 57–​58; Against Onetor 2.9; Against Apaturius 13–​14; For Phormio 1, 26 where the speaker asks the judges to give a verdict that is just and in harmony with their oaths, 61; Against Boeotus 1.25–​26, 37, 387, 41; 2.10–​11;

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  45 Against Phaenippus 1, 11–​12, 17–​18; Against Leochares 7, 14, 30, 46, 49 with references to sworn affidavits, 51–​53, 55; Against Stephanus 1.50, 87; 2.27; Against Evergus and Mnesilochus 31, 70; Against Olympiodorus 9, 11–​12, 17, 19, 30, 32, 38, 51, 54; Against Timotheus 20, 42–​43, 65; Against Polycles 31; Against Callippus 12, 17, 27, 31; Against Conon 40; Against Callicles 27, 35; Against Eubulides 9, 54, 69; Against Theocrines 17, 36); b. Invocations to the gods and the divine (Against Zenothemis 10, 23, 31; Against Lacritus 40; For Phormio 51, 53, 61; Against Pantaenetus 16, 53; Against Boeotus 1.9, 10, 13, 34, 37; 2.53, 57, 61; Against Spudias 20; Against Phaenippus 6, 7, 17; Against Macartatus 52, 68; Against Stephanus 1.81; Against Olympiodorus 2; Against Polycles 2, 13; Against Callippus 9; Against Conon 3, 26, 36; Against Callicles 6, 18, 28, 35; Against Dionysodorus 58; Against Eubulides 50, 59), or other divinized powers, such as Earth (Against Phormio 29; Against Boeotus 1.21, 2.5; Against Stephanus 73); c. References to people’s impiety (Against Apaturius 10; Against Theocrines 66 for a reference to the god-​detested Theocrines); d. References to the belief that the gods and fortune intervene in human affairs (Against Macartatus 12 for Eubulides’ prayer to the gods that a son might be born to him as a daughter had been, §66 for rituals devoted to specific gods in order for them to issue a divine portent and send good fortune), and that individuals are attached to ill-​fortune (Against Nicostratus 7; Against Theocrines 60 for the misfortunes that befell the Athenians because of Theocrines).

Dinarchus Three speeches are attributed to Dinarchus:  Against Demosthenes, Against Aristogeiton and Against Philocles. The religious discourse in these works has many similarities with that in the forensic speeches of the orators that have already been presented. There are, for example, references to the synergy between the will of the gods and the decision-​making responsibility of the judges to punish the speaker’s opponents (Against Aristogeiton 3) because they committed impiety (Against Demosthenes 18, 21, 47; Against Aristogeiton 14; Against Philocles 2) and because they are accursed (Against Demosthenes 41: the ill fortune attached to Demosthenes is not fit for Athens; 65, 72, 74, 91: the polis is plagued by an evil genius, 92). There are also references to the oath that the judges should respect (Against Philocles 17), the role of the gods in securing the best interests of the polis (Against Philocles 19), as well as several invocations to the gods or the divine (Against Demosthenes 7, 68, 88; Against Philocles 1, 15).

Hypereides Hypereides has six speeches under his name, five of which are forensic (In Defence of Lycophron, Against Philippides, Against Athenogenes, In Defence

46  Religious discourse in Attic oratory of Euxenippus and Against Demosthenes) and one epideictic (a Funeral Speech in honour of the general Leosthenes). A  few references to matters of rhetorical strategy have also been made in the fragmentary oration of Hypereides, Against Diondas; this speech, however, has not been fully examined in regard to the use and function of religious discourse. The first forensic speech is notable for its complete lack of references to the gods and the divine, while the rest include only a few references: to good fortune (Against Philippides 11 and Against Demosthenes 9) and to the impious actions that opponents committed (In Defence of Euxenippus 15–​18). Hypereides’ In Defence of Euxenippus 14–​15 stands apart as this is the only speech in the corpus of Attic oratory that discusses an occasion of oracular divination by way of a dream (enypnion), and the ways in which revelatory dreams, religion, legislative/​legal manoeuvres and decision-​making are interconnected in classical Athens.35 Hypereides’ speech recounts the case of Euxenippus, an Athenian citizen who had been tasked to undergo incubation at Amphiaraos’ sanctuary in Oropos. After Philip of Macedon restored the territory of Oropos to the Athenians, the land was divided up into five parcels and distributed to pairs of Attic tribes. Then a controversy arose about the possession of a hill by the tribes Acamantis and Hippothontis. To end this controversy, the Assembly asked Euxenippus and two other men to spend a night in the temple of Amphiaraos. Euxenippus had a dream, which he reported to the Athenian dēmos, favouring the tribes’ claims over those of Amphiaraos. Hypereides does not say what Euxenippus told the Assembly; all he says is that Polyeuktos, dissatisfied with the outcome, proposed a psēphisma (“decree”) that the two tribes give up the land to Amphiaraos and that the other tribes compensate them. The proposal was defeated in the Assembly, and Polyeuktos was charged with and convicted of making an illegal proposal and was fined 25 drachmas. Not content, Polyeuktos charged Euxenippus with falsely reporting, as he was “speaking against the best interests of the people of Athens while taking money and gifts from those who were acting against the people of Athens” (In Defence of Euxenippus §39).36 The outcome of the trial is unknown, while the actual relationship between the dream of Euxenippus and the decree of Polyeuktos is still a matter of scholarly debate and dissent. We are privileged to have three transmitted funeral speeches; apart from the one by Hypereides, there are two others, one by Demosthenes and another by Lysias. This gives us the unique opportunity to compare the techniques of religious discourse in each of them, an opportunity that would be facilitated by this survey. It is notable, for example, that in all three funeral speeches the use of religious discourse is limited compared to its use in forensic speeches. The most restrained use, however, is in the funeral oration composed and delivered by Hypereides: there is only one reference to the bad consequences arising from a lack of reverence to the gods (§22), and another to those who deserved the highest honour from the gods because they defended their worship (§43).

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  47

Isaeus Twelve speeches of Isaeus have come down to us in a textual form:  On the Estate of Cleonymus, Menecles, Pyrrhus, Nicostratus, Dicaiogenes, Philoctemon, Apollodorus, Ciron, Astyphilius, Aristarchus, Hagnias and Euphiletus. B.  Griffith-​ Williams argues that “all the speeches that can now be identified were almost certainly forensic, and a large majority were from private actions. Speeches concerning family matters, including inheritance, the epiklerate and guardianship, and other property disputes, predominate”.37 A  common feature of all these speeches is the restrained use of religious discourse; three of them  –​On the Estate of Cleonymus, Astyphilius and Aristarchus  –​have no reference to the gods, the divine or any other matter that may acquire religious dimensions. It is also striking that Pyrrhus, a speech on perjury in which references to the gods or religion would be most expected, includes only two references to lying under oath, in §§4, 35. A major thread that runs throughout the rest of Isaeus’ speeches is about references to oaths, as in Menecles 31, 33, 40, 47 where the judges are asked to pass their verdict in conformity with their oath; Nicostratus 31; Dicaiogenes 19; Ciron 19, 46; Hagnias 6; Euphiletus 9–​10. Invocations to the gods, for example, are only sparingly used: Philoctemon 58, 61; Apollodorus 33; Ciron 29 and Hagnias 35.

Isocrates Though some 60 works of Isocrates were known to the ancients, only 21 have survived. Of these surviving works, six are considered forensic speeches: On the Team of Horses, Trapeziticus, Against Callimachus, Aegineticus, Against Lochites and Against Euthynus; nine are epideictic:  To Demonicus, To Nicocles, Nicocles or The Cyprians, as this speech is also known, Evagoras, Helen, Busiris, Panathenaicus, Against the Sophists and Antidosis; and six are symbouleutic:  Panegyricus, To Philip, Archidamus, Areopagiticus, On the Peace, Plataicus. Because of the large number of extant speeches and their different oratorical nature –​forensic, epideictic and symbouleutic –​this survey is divided into three subsections, each devoted to one category of speech. Forensic speeches A remarkable feature of the six extant forensic speeches of Isocrates is that religious discourse is used only infrequently. Half of them –​i.e. Trapeziticus, Against Lochites and Against Euthynus  –​have no example of religious discourse. In the remaining four speeches, the most important features of religious discourse are in line with those used in the forensic speeches of other orators. There are references to the civic and religious valence of oaths that (should) influence the verdict of the judges (Aegineticus 15; Against Callimachus 24–​25,

48  Religious discourse in Attic oratory 29, 34, 44, 67); to impiety and the other sacrilegious acts of the vilest of men (On the Team of Horses 6, 23); to the divine punishment of humans (Against Callimachus 3) and the intervention of the gods and supernatural agents in human affairs (Against Callimachus 32). Epideictic speeches Isocrates is considered to be a master in the composition of epideictic orations, and because he preceded Aristotle, his epideictic orations provide us with insights into the features of this oratorical genre before Aristotle’s categorization. In the works of Isocrates, for example, one can find the words epideictic and epideixis prior to their discussion in Aristotle. These words have a double meaning: the first sense is negative, referring to the emphasis placed by epideictic orators on stylistic craftsmanship, and a tendency to show off, which is contrasted with argumentative substance. The second meaning of the words epideictic and epideixis in Isocrates’ speeches is positive, referring to “the highest kind of oratory”, i.e. Isocrates’ oratory, which has two virtues: that it deals with great affairs of individuals and life, and that it displays the ability of people to speak eloquently. Isocrates ends up saying that (his) epideictic speeches, because of these two virtues, “bring most profit to those who hear them” (Panegyricus 4).38 The first of the two qualities of epideictic oratory, specifically its concern with the great affairs of people and life, might dispose one to expect extensive use of religious discourse, since religion aims, in principle, to address great human affairs, allay existential angsts and offer answers to fundamental questions about life. Reading through the epideictic speeches of Isocrates, this expectation is fully substantiated: all seven epideictic speeches include several references to the gods, the divine and other matters of religious significance. A notable feature of the use of religious discourse that runs throughout Isocrates’ epideictic speeches is the wide range of references to the gods being closely intimated with the humans (Evagoras 9), and having a common family pedigree or erotic connection with them. Isocrates points out that “some men have devoted their lives to researches in the genealogies of the demi-​gods” (Antidosis 45). Isocrates probably refers to himself, since he makes extensive use of a range of mythologizing stories about the connection between the gods and the House of Aeacidae (Evagoras 13), Aeacus’ kinship with Zeus that gives people relief from woes (§14), Peleus having wedded Thetis and having the gods singing the wedding song at his marriage (§16), Evagoras’ birth, which was veiled with superhuman signs, oracles, visions and dreams (§21), Helen being a descendant of Zeus (§§16, 38, 53; cf. the memorable and masterful discussion in Gorgias’ Encomium of Helen 3–​4), Theseus being involved in religious myths (§§20, 23) and Busiris descending from Zeus and Poseidon (Busiris 10). Isocrates also claims that his fellow citizens administer their civic and personal affairs righteously and honourably, as was to

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  49 be expected of men who were descended from the gods (cf. Panegyricus 84, Panathenaicus 124). Religious discourse in Isocrates’ epideictic samples of oratory also includes references to the duty of leaders to show devotion to the gods (To Demonicus 13; Panathenaicus 204), several references to oaths (To Demonicus 22–​23; To Nicocles 22; Busiris 25), to the intervention of the gods and other supernatural, divinized entities, such as fortune, in human affairs (To Demonicus 34: παρὰ μὲν τῶν θεῶν εὐτυχίαν > εὐ + τύχη “the best thing which we have from the gods is good fortune”; Panathenaicus 81), to the role of the gods in favouring or punishing people (To Nicocles 20; Busiris 25, 28, 41; Panathenaicus 7, 186, 244, 254) and finally, to the connection of religion with politics and constitutional systems (Nicocles or The Cyprians 26; Busiris 26, 35). Symbouleutic speeches A major thread of religious discourse in the six symbouleutic speeches of Isocrates has to do with the references to the interconnection between the gods and the polis (Panegyricus 29; Plataicus 60) and the protection that the gods offer (Panegyricus 60), a topic that is also exploited in the speeches of other Attic orators, mainly in Demosthenes’ symbouleutic speeches. Other features of religious discourse have to do with the intervention of the gods in human and political affairs (Panegyricus 68; To Philip 150; Archidamus 24, 31–​32) to favour or punish people (Panegyricus 156; Archidamus 59; Areopagiticus 30; Plataicus 28), with the honours that the humans attribute to the gods (Areopagiticus 10) and their connection with the ancestral customs and practices (Areopagiticus 30). There are also references to the oaths (Plataicus 12, 39, 63), as there are in other speeches of Attic orators, both forensic and epideictic. Isocrates also underlines, mainly in his speech On the Peace, the reciprocal relations between the gods and humans. People, he points out in §§33–​34, practice piety and justice because they believe this will give them an advantage over others, whereas if they thought they would be worse off than others, they would not revere the gods. In a range of other sections within that speech, Isocrates offers insights into the reciprocal state of affairs between the gods and humans:  in §§35, 63, 120, for example, he points out that people who revere the gods are the ones who are unconditionally supported by them and who prosper in life. These references of Isocrates introduce a fundamental human perception that the relationship with the gods is reciprocal: the worshippers seek to persuade the deity to return the favour to the offerer of the prayer. “People do not just stipulate that there is a supernatural being somewhere who creates thunder, or that there are divine agents who inspect everyone and everything. People interact with the divine in the very concrete sense of doing things to the gods and other divine entities, giving and receiving, paying, promising, protecting, placating and so on”.39 People, we learn from the speeches of Attic oratory, offered grateful sacrifices to the

50  Religious discourse in Attic oratory gods (cf. Isocrates’ Areopagiticus 10, 29; Demosthenes’ Against Macartatus 66 where there is a detailed description of how to sacrifice to the gods, in order for them to explain a portent)40 because reverence was deeply rooted in the ancestral institutions of the city, and it is understood to be the only way to get the gods to help them in life (cf. Isocrates’ Areopagiticus 30; cf. Demosthenes’ Funeral Speech 30).

Lycurgus Only one speech has survived under the name of Lycurgus: Against Leocrates. This speech is notable for the frequent and dense use of features of religious discourse: I have found a total of 33 sections with references to the gods, the divine or other religious matters, compared to the 15 sections in all 6 speeches of Hypereides and the 26 sections in the 12 speeches of Isaeus. Lycurgus’ speech is also notable for starting with a prayer to Athena and the gods and heroes whose statues are erected in Athens. The only other speech that starts with a prayer is Demosthenes’ On the Crown. In Against Leocrates, Lycurgus uses the prayer to mark the trial as religious in content and to accuse Leocrates of betraying the gods and their sacred shrines and temples. One can also discern some recurrent patterns that are similar to those used in the speeches of other orators. One of these recurrent patterns has to do with the attempt of the speaker to influence the judges by asking them to cast their verdict in a way that displays their reverence of and respect to the gods and the people (§§2, 146, 150). Other recurrent patterns include references to the speaker’s opponents being guilty of twin crimes, against the gods and the city (§17); to impiety (§§129, 137, 147), the oaths (§§20, 76–​77, 79 where the importance of the oath in sustaining the Athenian democracy is underlined, §80 where the use of oaths in inter-​state politics is highlighted, §128) and fortune (§20); to the fate of the perjurer and his family (§§79, 91–​93); to the gods intervening in human affairs (§§94 where it is mentioned that the guidance of the gods presides over men’s duty towards their parents, the dead and the gods themselves) and to the belief that the gods favour or punish men (§§96–​97). An important feature of religious discourse in Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates is the speaker’s attempt to define the constituents of the Athenian polis. Lycurgus apostrophizes the Athenians to issue a strong warning: That [they] would be held to have neglected the virtues which chiefly distinguish [them] from the rest of mankind, piety towards the gods, reverence for [their] ancestors and ambition for your country, if this man were to escape punishment at [their] hands. (Against Leocrates §15) There are three distinct references incorporated in this passage:  the first is to piety, which is regarded to be of fundamental importance in sustaining the civic identity of the Athenians (cf. Pseudo-Demosthenes’ Against Neaira 104).41

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  51 Similar references to religion as being a fundamental constituent of the polis can also be found in other forensic speeches of Attic oratory, as for example in Aeschines’ On the False Embassy 22–​ 3 and Demosthenes’ On the False Embassy 267.42 The second reference that is incorporated in Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates 15 is to the ancestors, whose connection with religion is also underlined elsewhere in that speech (as in §26 where it is mentioned that it is an ancestral duty to praise Athena and the land that is protected by her); and the third reference is to Leocrates, who should be punished because he is the enemy of the gods, the polis and its people (§§26, 35). Lycurgus attempts, with the first two references, to create a sense of community that binds him and the members of the law court audience, both judges and onlookers, while with the third he seeks to invite the audience to think that Leocrates is excluded from the group. We should always bear in mind that ancient religion was, for the most part, practised within a community, and is an expression of civic affiliation. Religious discourse is, therefore, often a means of creating a group identity or a community.

Lysias Thirty-​four speeches or parts of speeches that are ascribed to Lysias have survived from antiquity. Most of these are prosecution or defence speeches written for the Athenian law courts, i.e. forensic speeches, although there are some exceptions:  there is a Funeral Speech, and another, the Olympic Oration, which both fit within the rubric of epideictic speeches,43 while three other speeches –​ Accusation of Calumny, Against Theomnestus 2 and Against the Subversion of the Ancestral Constitution of Athens –​are considered to be “non-​forensic”, as S.  Todd calls them.44 Of the remaining speeches, 25 are considered forensic public speeches, while four come with the label of forensic private speeches. The distinction between public and private speeches, especially in the case of Lysias, is not easy to make, and its outcome is frequently disputable. F. Blass, for example, proposes to consider the substance of each case to determine if it is public or private, a method that R. Jebb –​and I agree –​ finds uncertain.45 However difficult the distinction between public and private speeches is to make, it is necessary in the corpus of Lysias’ forensic speeches, since it enables us to venture direct comparisons with the public and private speeches of Demosthenes with regard to the features of religious discourse. Following Jebb, I consider the following to be public forensic speeches: For Polystratus; Defence on a Charge of Taking Bribes; Against Ergocles; Against Epicrates; Against Nikomachus; Against the Corn Dealers; On the Confiscation of the Property of the Brother of Nicias; For the Soldier; On the Property of Aristophanes; Against Philocrates; Against Evandrus; For Mantitheus; Against Philon; Defence against a Charge of Seeking to Abolish the Democracy; For the Invalid; Against Alcibiades 1 and 2; Against Eratosthenes; Against Agoratus; On the Murder of Eratosthenes; Against Simon; On a Wound by Premeditation;

52  Religious discourse in Attic oratory Against Andocides; For Callias; On the Sacred Olive. The following four are, for the purposes of this survey, private forensic speeches: Against Theomnestus 1, Against Diogeiton, On the Property of Eraton and Against Pancleon. There is a remarkable absence, in the speeches of Lysias, of references to the gods, the divine and other matters of religious importance from several speeches of all oratorical kinds –​public forensic orations (On the Murder of Eratosthenes; Against Simon; For Callias; On the Sacred Olive; For Mantitheus; For the Invalid; Against Epicrates; Against Ergocles; Against Philocrates), private forensic speeches (On the Property of Eraton; Against Pancleon) and “non-​forensic” speeches (Accusation of Calumny; Against Theomnestus 2). It is striking that almost a third of the forensic public speeches of Lysias have no examples of religious discourse, and the remaining include only a few examples, in contrast to the public speeches of Demosthenes that are replete with references to the gods or the divine. It is also surprising that two of the three speeches that relate to impiety (what is known in ancient Greek law as γραφὴ ἀσεβείας) do not include any examples of religious discourse, as one might reasonably expect. This is in sharp contrast with Demosthenes’ Against Androtion, a public indictment for impiety, in which I counted ten instances of religious discourse. Epideictic and “non-​forensic” speeches I treat these two categories of speeches together due to the limited number of speeches that include references to religion. Features of the religious discourse have to do with the belief that the gods punish unjust men (Funeral Oration 7), or that they have responsibility for cities losing in war (Funeral Oration 58). There are also references to the obligation of humans not to outrage the gods (Funeral Oration 9). The people should trust the gods, Lysias notes in Against the Subversion of the Ancestral Constitution of Athens 10. Religious discourse revolves around references to pollution and impiety, as in the Funeral Oration 7: “by the pollution of the shrines the gods above were being treated with impiety”. There are references in Attic oratory to the whole community being polluted by an individual’s impiety, sacrilege or wrongdoing. For Demosthenes, in Against Meidias 55, for example, impiety is when someone commits a malicious assault in the sacred precinct of the god and, for Lysias, in Against Alcibiades 1.42, Alcibiades committed impiety by mutilating Hermae. Many Greeks, we are informed in Lysias’ Against Andocides 16, exclude anyone who committed acts of impiety from their temples. Isaeus, in Philoctemon 50, points out that a sacrilegious woman should not enter the temples of the city, while in the pseudo-​Demosthenic Against Neaira 86–​ 87, there is a reference to a law that prevents adulterous women from participating in sacrifices and other religious rites. Other references to impiety are very frequent in all matrices of genre that Attic oratorical speeches fall within:  the speakers’ opponents frequently had to refute accusations from their opponents of committing impiety (as in Andocides’ On the Mysteries

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  53 10, 29, 58, 71; Antiphon’s Against the Stepmother for Poisoning 19; Dinarchus’ Against Demosthenes 21, Against Aristogeiton 14, etc.), and associated calls for severe punishment (as in Andocides’ On the Mysteries 30; Aeschines’ On the False Embassy 88, 148; Demosthenes’ Against Meidias 120 where impiety equates to crime, etc.). The aim of the speakers is to capitalize on popular anxieties and fears that those who disturb the divinely-​established order will bring destruction upon the whole community.46 The legal treatment of impiety was tough:  death, the penalty levelled against Socrates (cf. Aristotle’s Athenian Constitution 60.2; Andocides’ On the Mysteries 68, 74), or lifelong exile with confiscation of property (cf. Lysias’ On the Sacred Olive 25, 41).47 The legal punishment for impiety worked as a means of appeasing the gods and eliciting their continuing eunoia, “goodwill”. The Athenians had to expiate the impiety committed by their fellows, in order to prevent the gods’ revenge. They thought that they were obliged to repay the gods for the resources and protection they supplied, and that they had to keep the divine order untouched by whoever was trying to destabilize it. Ample evidence points to the inherently inimical attitude of the Athenians towards anyone committing impious actions (cf. Lysias,’ Against Andocides 5, 17; Demosthenes’ Against Meidias 51, Against Timocrates 7). Isocrates informs us, in On the Team of Horses 6, that “since they [the Athenians] knew that in matters pertaining to the gods the city would be most enraged, if any man should be shown to be violating the Mysteries, and that in other matters if any man should dare to attempt the overthrow of the democracy, they combined both these charges and tried to bring an action of impeachment before the senate”. Lysias also informs us that Pericles advised people to deal with impious acts by enforcing the written and divine laws against the perpetrators (Against Andocides 10). Forensic private speeches Religious discourse is limited in the private speeches of Lysias: he attempts to ensure the verdict of the judges by highlighting the respect they should show for both the established laws and the oaths they swore (as, for example, in Against Theomnestus 1).48 This is yet another reference in Attic oratory to the interconnection between legal/​political and religious matters, a theme that is also used in the speeches of other orators, i.e. Andocides, Demosthenes, Isaeus, Isocrates and Lycurgus. Forensic public speeches The main features of religious discourse in the public speeches of Lysias include references to oaths (e.g. On a Wound by Premeditation 4; For the Soldier 15; Against Eratosthenes 10; Against Alcibiades 1 22, 40, 47; Against Alcibiades 2 8, 10; For Polystratus 14, 26; Against the Corn Dealers 7; On the Scrutiny of Evandrus 16; Against Philon 1, 2, 31; and a series of references to

54  Religious discourse in Attic oratory the political dimension of oaths in Defence against a Charge of Subverting the Democracy 23, 28, 34), to the belief that the gods punish wrongdoers (e.g. Against Andocides 3, 20, 25, 28, 54; Against Eratosthenes 96) or apprize the just (as Lysias claims, in Against Eratosthenes 17, that he was himself). A few invocations to the gods can also be found in Lysias’ speeches Against Andocides 7, 32; Against Agoratus 1, 95; On the Property of Aristophanes 34, 54; Against Philon 14. Lysias also uses religious discourse in an attempt to stir up the emotions of the judges in the law court: an example can be found in On a Wound by Premeditation 20, where the speaker prays and beseeches the judges, by their children and their wives, and the gods who protect Athens, to take pity on him and absolve him. Emotion-​provoking references can also be found elsewhere, as in Against Agoratus 3 and in Against Andocides 12, 31 and 33, where it is argued that justice and piety require the judges to punish the defendant, or risk the anger of the gods.

Conclusion Reading the totality of the speeches of the Ten Attic Orators, and offering full surveys of the most fundamental, i.e. the recurrent and insistently used, features and topics of religious discourse within them, it is possible to distinguish between religious patterns that run throughout the whole corpus of speeches and all three genres –​i.e. forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic –​and patterns that are used in some of these genres only. This suggested twofold schematization is summarized below, but a more detailed and thorough analysis of the framework –​i.e. the means or restrictions –​that specific contexts provide to the speaker concerning the use of religious discourse, and the reasoning behind that contextualization, is the topic of Chapter 2 of this book. The first category, i.e. the features and topics of religious discourse that can be found in all kinds of oratorical speeches, includes references to the intervention of the gods and other divinized entities and agents in human affairs, such as by influencing lives, determining human actions and favouring or punishing people. The same is true for references to impiety, a crime against the gods that was also severely punished by the law. References to impiety are frequent in several Attic orators (i.e. Aeschines, Andocides, Demosthenes, Dinarchus and Isocrates), appearing in both forensic public and private speeches (especially those of Demosthenes), as well as in epideictic orations (especially those of Lysias). There are, of course, differences in the ways in which religious discourse is used from oratorical genre to genre. An example is the making of formulaic invocations to the gods and the divine, and swearing of oaths, which are signalled by vocatives, particles and prepositions: these can be found in forensic (public and private) and symbouleutic speeches, but not in epideictic ones. Plain (i.e. non-​formulaic) references to the civic and religious valence of the oaths and the obligation of people (i.e. judges, citizens and onlookers) to

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  55 abide by them can be found in all three genres of oratory, including epideictic oratory. Another example is the references to the gods and the divine as being protectors of the polis and the democratic constitution; these references are particularly relevant in the context of public speeches, but less so in private orations. One would also argue that, unlike his forensic oratory, Demosthenes’ symbouleutic speeches distinctively contain several recurrent references to the polis as being favoured and blessed by the gods and other divinized powers, such as fortune (τύχη; e.g. Olynthiac 1.10; 2.1, 22; Philippic 1.12, 37, 45; 4.24, 31). The attempted connection of the gods, the divine, and religion in general, with the polis (and politics more broadly) is also repeatedly used in the symbouleutic speeches of Isocrates (as in Panegyricus 29, 60; Plataicus 60; Archidamus 31). The consistent and persistent use of this topic in symbouleutic speeches suggests that it was, unsurprisingly, a particular feature of this generic category of oratory. The exceptional reference to fortune in Demosthenes’ On the Crown is probably due to the fact that there is a shift in register and tone from forensic to symbouleutic oratory. Religious discourse in epideictic oratory, restrained as it is, revolves around, refers to, and places emphasis upon the several forms that the relationship between the gods and the humans may take. The three extant funeral speeches by Demosthenes, Hypereides and Lysias use religious discourse only sparingly, mostly referring to the people who would be eternally blessed because they defended the gods (e.g. Demosthenes’ Funeral Oration 30, 34). The Erotic Essay that is attributed to Demosthenes refers to the role of the gods and religion in harmonizing the world (as in §14), and Isocrates, in his epideictic orations, provides ample information about the intimacy between gods and humans, their common family pedigrees and the erotic connection between them (e.g. Evagoras 9, 13–​14, 16, 20–​21, 23; Antidosis 45).

Notes 1 King (1954/​5) 363–​71; Vielberg (1991) 49–​68; Montgomery (1996) 125–​32; Furley (1997) 64–​82; Martin (2009). 2 Commentaries include: MacDowell (2000) on Demosthenes 19; Yunis (2001) 225 on fortune in Demosthenes 18; Todd (2007) on Lysias 1–​11; Kremmydas (2012) on Demosthenes 20; Griffith-​Williams (2013) 133 on Isaeus 8. 3 In the table below are the numbers of references to matters of religious discourse in the speeches of each of the Ten Attic Orators. The percentage given in the brackets is the quotient of the number of sections with references to matters of religious discourse and the total number of sections in the speeches of each orator. Aeschines: 76 (11.9%) Andocides: 31 (11.8%) Antiphon: 47 (15.9%) Demosthenes: 460 (10.9%) Dinarchus: 32 (19.75%)

Hypereides: 15 (8.4%) Isaeus: 26 (4.9%) Isocrates: 131 (6.6%) Lycurgus: 33 (22%) Lysias: 80 (7.17%)

56  Religious discourse in Attic oratory 4 Readings on the distinction of oratorical speeches into three sub-​genres, and on the defining features of each one of these categories: Ober (1989) 147; Fahnestock (1993) 267–​268; Edwards (1994) 3–​7; Heath (1995) 10–​11; Sheard (1996) 773–​776; Albaladejo (2003) 51–​58; Carey (2007) 236–​252. 5 Surprisingly, despite the impressive advances in the study of Attic oratory that have been made in the last two decades, I found no single work that offers a full catalogue of the speeches that belong to each of the Ten Attic Orators, and no distinction of the extant speeches into the main three categories of oratory: forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic. References to speeches and distinctions of genre are usually, but not always, made in commentaries; e.g. Gagarin (1997) 7–​9. This chapter fills this important gap by offering full lists of the speeches of each orator, and by separating speeches into their categories. 6 Fisher (2001) 267. 7 Translation: Lloyd-​Jones (1994). See also the translation of McAuslan and Affleck (2003) 17. 8 Herodotus 1.43: “then the guest called Adrastus, the man who had been cleansed of the deed of blood, missed the boat with his spear and hit the son of Croesus. So Atys was struck by the spear and fulfilled the prophecy of the dream. One ran to tell Croesus what had happened, and coming to Sardis told the king of the fight and the fate of his son”. 9 Fisher (2001) 268. 10 Welcker (1835); Marzullo (1953). 11 On the Epic Cycle, part of which is the Little Iliad: West (2013). 12 Harris (1995) 105; Ford (1999) 249–​50; Fisher (2001) 269; Bajnok (2013) 185. 13 Fisher (2001) 269. 14 The existence of the altar to phēmē is also attested in Pausanias 1.17.1: “In the Athenian market-​place among the objects not generally known is an altar to Mercy (Ἐλέου βωμός), of all divinities the most useful in the life of mortals and in the vicissitudes of fortune, but honoured by the Athenians alone among the Greeks. And they are conspicuous not only for their humanity, but also for their devotion to religion. They have an altar to Shame (Αἰδοῦς), one to Rumour (Φήμης) and one to Effort (Ὁρμῆς). It is quite obvious that those who excel in piety are correspondingly rewarded by good fortune”. The attribution of divine status to rumour by Pausanias (second century AD) is perhaps influenced by its deification in sources from the fourth century BC, including oratory. 15 Φήμης] Ἀθήνησίν ἐστι βωμὸς Φήμης. Vat. Laur. mq. Ἄλλως. Κίμωνος ἐν Παμφυλίᾳ νικήσαντος ναυμαχίαν καὶ πεζομαχίαν αὐθημερὸν ἔγνωσαν Ἀθηναῖοι, ὡς ὕστερον αὐτοῦ διὰ γραμμάτων τὴν νίκην σημήναντος· ὅθεν πρῶτον καὶ βωμὸν τῇ Φήμῃ ὡς θεῷ ἀνιδρύσαντο. Vat. Laur. gmq. 16 Montgomery (1983). 17 Aeschines 3.77: “Now this man it was, fellow citizens, this past master of flattery, who, when informed through scouts of Charidemus that Philip was dead, before anyone else had received the news, made up a vision for himself and lied about the gods, pretending that he had received the news, not from Charidemus, but from Zeus and Athena, the gods by whose name he perjures himself by day, and who then converse with him in the night, as he says, and tell him of things to come”. 3.99: “Demosthenes, when he is cheating you, first adds an oath to his lie, calling down destruction on himself; and secondly, predicting an event that he knows will never happen, he dares to tell the date of it; and he tells the names of men, when he

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  57 has never so much as seen their faces, deceiving your ears and imitating men who tell the truth”. 18 This is an example of Aeschines’ intention to activate “group identities” and exploit them to the best rhetorical effect. On the theory and practice of “group identities”, see p. 123ff. 19 Serafim (2019) 245–​247; also: Rudhardt (1960) 87–​105; Filonik (2013) 11–​96. 20 On the marginalized status of sycophants: Lofberg (1917) esp. 19–​25, (1920) 61–​ 72; MacDowell (1978) 62–​6; Harvey (1990) 103–​121; Yunis (1996) 253–​254, n. 31; Christ (1998) 48–​71; Pernot (2005) 24–​25. 21 Antiphon 4.2.8–​9: “May God visit them with the punishment which they deserve. You on your side must look to your own interests and be more disposed to acquit than to condemn me. If I am acquitted unjustly, if I escape because you have not been properly informed of the facts, then it is he who failed to inform you, not you, whom I shall cause to be visited by the spirit who is seeking vengeance for the dead. But if I am wrongfully condemned by you, then it is upon you, and not upon my accuser, that I shall turn the wrath of the avenging demons. In this knowledge, make the prosecution bear the consequences of their sin; cleanse yourselves of guilt: and acquit me as righteousness and justice require you to do. Thus may all of us citizens best avoid defilement”. 22 Antiphon 1.25:  “yet which is the more just:  that a wilful murderer should be punished, or that he should not? Which has a better claim to pity, the murdered man or the murderess? To my mind, the murdered man:  because in pitying him you would be acting more justly and more righteously in the eyes of gods and men” (emphasis is mine). 3.2.11: “do not bring a miserable fate upon us by condemning us: but show that you fear God by acquitting us”. 3.3.12: “so satisfy the claims of heaven and the laws by taking him and punishing him”. 6.3: “nevertheless, it is also, I think, of great importance to you who are my judges that you should reach a correct verdict in trials for murder, first and foremost because of the gods and your duty towards them, and secondly for your own sakes”. 23 On this process of the examination of magistrates: Harrison (1971) 208–​11; Todd (1993) 112–​3, 302. 24 The four religious references in Demosthenes’ Funeral Oration are in §§22, 27, 30, 34. 25 The ten religious references in Demosthenes’ Erotic Essay are in §§8–​9, 11–​14, 24,  30–​32. 26 On the functionalistic role of religion:  Durkheim (1912); Malinowski (1948); Parsons (1951); Thomas (1962) 30–​40. 27 Cf. Demosthenes’ On the False Embassy 55, 256; Against Aristogeiton 1.34 with a reference to the gods-​protectors of cities, such as Athēnē Pronaia (Lady of Forethought). 28 For a more detailed exanimation of the contexts in which specific features of religious discourse are used, and the rhetorical reasons that determine their use, see Chapter 2. 29 On the Liberty of the Rhodians 2: “now, it is one of the blessings for which, I think, the gods deserve your gratitude, that the same men who not long ago attacked you in the wantonness of their pride, now find in you alone the hope of their salvation”. Philippic 3.54: “and that, as all Heaven is my witness, you will never be able to do; but you have reached such a height of folly or of madness or—​I know not what to call it, for this fear too has often haunted me, that some demon is

58  Religious discourse in Attic oratory driving you to your doom, that from love of calumny or envy or ribaldry, or whatever your motive may be, you clamour for a speech from these hirelings, some of whom would not even disclaim that title, and you derive amusement from their vituperations”. 30 Translation: Carey et al. (2008) 12. Serafim (2017) 104 argues that “this pattern of thought is notably presented in tragedy: the tragic plot in Aeschylus’ Eumenides, for example, is constructed around the punishment of Orestes for the murder of his mother, despite this crime being instigated by Apollo, while the Sophoclean Oedipus himself accepts that he bears responsibility for his actions (Oedipus Tyrannus 1329–​ 33)”. Further on the role of τύχη in human life:  Herodotus 1.32; Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus 263, 442, 1080–​2; Pindar, Olympian 12.1–​ 9; Demosthenes, The Second Olynthiac 22:  “for fortune weighs heavily in the scale –​nay, fortune is everything, in all human affairs”; On the Peace 11–​2, where Demosthenes claims that good fortune “is more powerful than all the cleverness and wisdom on earth”; Aeschines 2.118, 131. Useful readings include: Kokolakis (1960); Chaniotis (2009) 171–​3; Martin (2009) 92–​101. 31 Olynthiac 2.23: “But one who is himself idle cannot possibly call upon his friends, much less upon the gods, to work for him”. 32 Martin (2009) 109–​11; cf. Serafim (2019) 233–​253. 33 Serafim (2019) 240–​241. 34 References to Earth are frequent in the corpus of Attic speeches; cf. Aeschines’ Against Ctesiphon 260: ὦ γῆ καὶ ἥλιε καὶ ἀρετὴ καὶ σύνεσις καὶ παιδεία “Earth and Sun and Virtue and Conscience and Education”; Demosthenes’ Against Phormio 29, Against Boeotus 1 21, Against Boeotus 2 5 and Against Stephanus 1 73. On the invocation Earth, see Chapter 3, pp. 9–​10,  23–​24. 35 On the features and functions of dreams in a range of ancient Greek and Roman literary genres: Miller (2007) 27–​39; Hemingway (2008). 36 Demosthenes was also subjected to similar accusations by his enemy Aeschines, who claimed that he attributed to dreams those things he learned from spies; Aeschines 3.77. 37 Griffith-​Williams (2013) 1. 38 Enos (1996) 229. 39 Boyer (2001). 40 Demosthenes 43.66: “They [the Athenians] set forth bowls of wine and institute choruses and wreathe themselves with garlands after the custom of their fathers, in honour of all the Olympian gods and goddesses, lifting up the right hand and the left, and that they be mindful to bring gifts of thanksgiving after the custom of their fathers”. 41 Demosthenes, Against Neaira 104: “On the motion of Hippocrates it is decreed that the Plataeans shall be Athenians from this day, and shall have full rights as citizens, and that they shall share in all the privileges in which the Athenians share, both civil and religious”. 42 Aeschines 2.22–​3: “For he claims that his main concern is the city’s salt and the public table, when he does not belong to our land –​it must be said –​or our blood. And we who have shrines and ancestral tombs in our homeland and share with you the pastimes and dealings that befit free men and have legally valid marriages and in-​laws and children, deserved your trust in Athens (or you would never have selected us), but on arriving in Macedonia we suddenly turned traitor.”

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  59

43 44 45

46 47 48

Demosthenes 19.267:  “The perpetrators of that infamy were not put to the blush by the sun that shone on their shame or by the soil of their native land on which they stood, by temples or by sepulchres, by the ignominy that waited on their deeds:  such madness, men of Athens, and such obliquity does corruption engender!” Romilly (1977) 113. Todd (2007) 1. Blass (1868) 445–​660. The categorization proposed by Blass includes some highly contestable suggestions, as is, for example, his argument for considering two speeches of Lysias, For the Invalid and To His Companions, as “bagatelle”. On pollution: Dodds (1957) 35–​7; Parker (1983) esp. 145–​7, 195–​7, 257ff; Plastow (2020)  50–​88. On the punishment of impiety, see Chapter 4, pp. 132–133. Against Theomnestus 1: “Remembering these reasons, vindicate me and my father, and also the established laws and the oaths that you have sworn”.

Bibliography Albaladejo, T. (2003). The Three Types of Speeches in Quintilian, Book III: Communicative Aspects of the Political and Legal Features of Rhetorical Discourse. In: O. Tellegen Couperus, Ed., Quintilian and the Law: The Art of Persuasion in Law and Politics. Leuven: Leuven University Press, pp. 51–​58. Arena, V. (2007). Roman Oratorical Invective. In:  W. Dominik and J. Hall, Eds., A Companion to Roman Rhetoric. London: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 149–​160. Bajnok, D. (2013). The Goddess of Report in the Courtroom. Acta Classica Univ. Scient. Debrecen, 49, pp. 181–​189. Banerjee, K., and Bloom, P. (2013). Would Tarzan Believe in God? Conditions for the Emergence of Religious Belief. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 17(1), pp. 7–​8. Barrett, J., and Keil, F. (1996). Conceptualizing a Non-​ natural Entity: Anthropomorphism in God Concepts. Cognitive Psychology, 31(3), pp. 219–​247. Blass, F. (1868). Die attische Beredsamkeit: Abth. Von Gorgias bis zu Lysias. Leipzig: Hildesheim. Boyer, P. (2001) Religion Explained: The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought. New York: Basic Books. Carey, C. (1990). Structure and Strategy in Lysias XXIV. Greece & Rome, 37, pp. 44–​51. Carey, C. (2000). Aeschines. Austin: University of Texas Press. Carey, C. (2007). Epideictic Oratory. In: I. Worthington, Ed., A Companion to Greek Rhetoric. London: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 236–​252. Carey, C. et al. (2008). Fragments of Hyperides’ Against Diondas from the Archimedes Palimpsest. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, 165(1), pp. 1–​19. Chaniotis, A. (2009). Theatrikotēta kai Dēmosios Vios ston Hellēnistiko Kosmo. Heraklion: University of Crete Publishing Press. Christ, M. R. (1998). The Litigious Athenian. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press. Conover, P. J. (1984). The Influence of Group Identifications on Political Perception and Evaluation. The Journal of Politics, 46(1), pp. 760–​785. Dickie, M. W. (2001). Magic and Magicians in the Greco-​Roman World. London and New York: Routledge.

60  Religious discourse in Attic oratory Dodds, E. R. (1957). The Greeks and the Irrational. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press. Dowden, K. (2007). Rhetoric and Religion. In: I. Worthington, Ed., A Companion to Greek Rhetoric. London: Wiley-​Blackwell, pp. 320–​335. Durkheim, É. (1912). Les Formes élémentaires de la vie religieuse. Paris: Alcan. Edwards, M. (1994). The Attic Orators. Bristol: Bristol University Press. Enos, T. (1996). Encyclopaedia of Rhetoric and Composition:  Communication from Ancient Times to the Information Age. New York and London: Routledge. Fahnestock, J. (1993). Genre and Rhetorical Craft. Research in the Teaching of English, 27, pp. 265–​271. Filonik, J. (2013). Athenian Impiety Trials: A Reappraisal. Dike, 16: 11–​96. Fisher, N., Ed. and trans. (2001). Aeschines, Against Timarchos:  Introduction, Translation and Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ford, A. (1999). Reading Homer from the Rostrum: Poems and Laws in Aeschines’ Against Timarchus. In: S. Goldhill and R. Osborne, Eds., Performance Culture and Athenian Democracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 231–​256. Furley, W. D. (1997). Religiöse Schuld in attischen Gerichtsverfahren. In: J. Assmann et  al., Eds., Schuld, Gewissen und Person:  Studien zur Geschichte des inneren Menschen. Gütersloh: Mohn, pp. 64–​82. Gagarin, M. (1997). Antiphon: The Speeches. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gagarin, M. (2002). Antiphon, the Athenian: Oratory, Law and Justice in the Age of the Sophists. Austin: University of Texas Press. Gervais, W. (2013). Perceiving Minds and Gods:  How Mind Perception Enables, Constrains, and Is Triggered by Belief in Gods. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 8(4), pp. 380–​394. Grethlein, J. (2010). The Greeks and their Past: Poetry, Oratory, and History in the Fifth Century BCE. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Griffith-​Williams, B. (2013). A Commentary on Selected Speeches of Isaios. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Hall, E. (2006). The Theatrical Cast of Athens. Interactions between Ancient Greek Drama and Society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harris, E. M. (1995). Aeschines and Athenian Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harrison, A. R.  W. (1971). The Law of Athens:  Procedure. Vol. 2.  Oxford:  Oxford University Press. Harvey, D. (1990). The Sycophant and Sycophancy:  Vexatious Redefinition? In: P. Cartledge, P. Millett and S. Todd, Eds., Nomos: Essays in Athenian Law, Politics and Society. rev. ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 103–​121. Heath, M. (1995). Hermogenes, On Issues:  Strategies of Argument in Later Greek Rhetoric. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hemingway, B. (2008). The Dream in Classical Greece: Debates and Practices. PhD Thesis, University of Oxford. Huddy, L. (2003). Group Identity and Political Cohesion. In: D. Sears, L. Huddy and R. Jervis, Eds., The Oxford Handbook of Political Psychology. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, pp. 511–​558. Hunter, V. J. (1994). Policing Athens: Social Control in the Attic Lawsuits, 420–​320 BC. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Jebb, R. C. (1893 [1876]), The Attic Orators from Antiphon to Isaeus. 2nd ed. London: Macmillan.

Religious discourse in Attic oratory  61 King, D. B. (1954/​5). The Appeal to Religion in Greek Rhetoric. Classical Journal, 50, pp. 363–​371. Kokolakis, M. (1960). The Dramatic Simile of Life. Athens: Threu a Mpukure. Kremmydas, C. (2012). Commentary on Demosthenes, Against Leptines. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lanni, A. (1997). Spectator Sport or Serious Politics? Hoi Periestēkotes and the Athenian Lawcourts. Journal of Hellenic Studies, 117, pp. 183–​189. Lau, R. (1989). Individual and Contextual Influences on Group Identification. Social Psychology Quarterly, 52(1), pp. 220–​231. Lloyd-​Jones, H. (1994). Sophocles: Ajax; Electra; Oedipus Tyrannus. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Lofberg, J. O. (1917). Sycophancy in Athens. Chicago: BiblioBazaar. Lofberg, J. O. (1920). The Sycophant-​Parasite. Classical Philology, 15(1), pp. 61–​72. Loraux, N. (2006). The Invention of Athens: The Funeral Oration in the Classical City. Trans. A. Sheridan. New York: Zone Books. Luhrmann, T. M. (2012). When God Talks Back. New York: Knopf. Luhrmann, T. M. (2014). Response:  Knowing God, Attentional Learning, and the Local Theory of Mind. Symposium. Religion, Brain & Behavior, 4, pp. 78–​90. MacDowell, D. (2000). Demosthenes, On the False Embassy. Oxford:  Oxford University Press. MacDowell, D. M. (1978). The Law in Classical Athens. Ithaca: Cornell University  Press. Malinowski, B. (1948). Magic, Science and Religion. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Martin, G. (2009). Divine Talk:  Religious Argumentation in Demosthenes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Marzullo, B. (1953). Aeschines in Tim. 128. Maia, 6, pp. 68–​75. McAuslan, I. and J. Affleck, Eds. and trans. (2003). Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus: A New Translation and Commentary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Miller, A. H., P. Gurin, G. Gurin and O. Malanchuk (1981). Group Consciousness and Political Participation. American Journal of Political Science, 25(1), pp. 494–​511. Miller, J. B.  F. (2007). Convinced that God Had Called Us:  Dreams, Visions, and the Perception of God’s Will in Luke–​Acts. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Montgomery, H. (1983). The Way to Chaeronea. Bergen: Universitetsforlaget. Montgomery, H. (1996). Piety and Persuasion:  Mythology and Religion in Fourth-​ Century Athenian Oratory. In: B. Alroth and P. Hellstro, Eds., Religion and Power in the Ancient Greek World. Uppsala: Ubsaliensis S. Academiae, pp. 125–​132. Nilsson, M. P. (1967). Geschichte der Griechischen Religion. Munich: Beck. Ober, J. (1989). Mass and Elite in Democratic Athens: Rhetoric, Ideology and the Power of the People. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Parker, R. (1983). Miasma:  Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Parsons, T. (1951). The Social System. New York: Free Press. Pernot, L. (2005). The Rhetoric of Religion. Rhetorica, 24, pp. 235–​254. Plastow, C. (2020). Homicide in the Attic Orators:  Rhetoric, Ideology and Context. London and New York: Routledge. Revermann, M. (2006). The Competence of Theatre Audiences in Fifth and Fourth Century Athens. Journal of Hellenic Studies, 126, pp. 99–​124. Rijksbaron, A. (1984). The Syntax and Semantics of the Verb in Classical Greek: An Introduction. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

62  Religious discourse in Attic oratory Romilly, J. de. (1977). A Short History of Greek Literature. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. Roselli, D. K. (2011). Theatre of the People: Spectators and Society in Ancient Athens. Austin: University of Texas Press. Rudhardt, J. (1960). La définition du délit d’impiété d’après la législation attique. MH 17: 87–​105. Serafim, A. (2017). Attic Oratory and Performance. London and New York: Routledge. Serafim, A. (2019). Constructing Identities: Religious Argumentation, Sexuality and Social Identity in Attic Forensic Oratory. Annals of the Faculty of Law in Belgrade, 67, pp. 233–​253. Sheard, C. M. (1996). The Public Value of Epideictic Rhetoric. College English, 58, pp. 765–​794. Sicking, C. M. J. (1991). The Distribution of Aorist and Present Tense Stem Forms in Greek, Especially in the Imperative. Glotta, 69, pp. 14–​43, 154–​170. Smyth, H. W. (1959). Greek Grammar. Rev. by G. M. Messing. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Thomas, J. L. (1962). Family Values in a Pluralistic Society. American Catholic Sociological Review, 23, pp. 30–​40. Todd, S. C. (1993). The Shape of Athenian Law. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Todd, S. C. (2007). A Commentary on Lysias, Speeches 1–​ 11. Oxford:  Oxford University Press. Usher, S. (1993). Greek Orators V: Demosthenes, On the Crown. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Vielberg, M. (1991). Die religiösen Vorstellungen des Redners Lykurg. RhM, nf 134, 49–​68. Welcker, F. G. (1835). Der epische Cyclus oder die homerischen Dichter. Bonn: Weber. West, M. L. (2013). The Epic Cycle: A Commentary on the Lost Troy Epics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Whitehead, D., Ed. and trans. (2000). Hypereides, The Forensic Speeches: Introduction, Translation and Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Yunis, H. (1996). Taming Democracy: Models of Political Rhetoric in Classical Athens. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. Yunis, H. (2001). Demosthenes, On the Crown. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yunis, H. (2005). Demosthenes, Speeches 18 and 19. Austin: University of Texas Press.

2  Contextualizing religious discourse

The survey of the recurrent features and manifestations of religious discourse in the whole corpus of the transmitted Attic speeches that was conducted in Chapter 1 showed that it is possible to distinguish between ubiquitous religious patterns, which are used in all three generic categories of orations, i.e. forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic, and those that are strictly used in specific categories. The survey in Chapter 1 also indicates that, beyond this tripartite distinction of oratory, some other legal and rhetorical features also affect the frequency, use and purposes of patterns of religious discourse. It is noted, for example, that whether the speeches were delivered in public or private legal contexts affects, though only to a limited extent, how religious discourse is used. This chapter aims to develop the insights into contextual issues by trying to interpret the strategic reasoning behind the use of religious discourse in specific oratorical genres, texts and contexts. New Institutionalism argues that different institutions have different “logics of appropriateness” that condition the ways in which discourses interact and affect society: An institution is a relatively enduring collection of rules and organized practices, embedded in structures of meaning and resources that are relatively invariant in the face of turnover of individuals and relatively resilient to the idiosyncratic preferences and expectations of individuals and changing external circumstances. There are structures of meaning, embedded in identities and belongings: common purposes and accounts that give direction and meaning to behaviour, and explain, justify and legitimate behavioural codes. Institutionalism emphasizes the endogenous nature and social construction of political institutions. Institutions are not simply equilibrium contracts among self-​seeking, calculating individual actors or arenas for contending social forces. They are collections of structures, rules and standard operating procedures. (March and Olsen (2005) 4. )1 These structures, rules and procedures create an anticipated, legitimated and accepted etiquette of appropriate behaviour (including action and speech) for specific operators in designated situations. The logic of appropriateness is,

64  Contextualizing religious discourse therefore, a perspective on human (re)action in a designated venue. To act appropriately is to proceed according to the institutionalized practices which arise from a collective and mutual understanding of what is true, reasonable, natural, right and good in a specific context. Rules and practices specify what is normal, what must be expected, what can be relied upon, and what makes sense within a given context or community. The idea that people behave in a specific way depending on institutional etiquette can shed light on the ways in which orators in classical Athens use specific arguments and rhetorical techniques in specific well-​designated contexts, and only in those contexts. As L. Rubinstein argues, the public or private legal character of the cases affects the options available to the speakers in terms of the content of their speech, the arguments and the rhetorical strategies.2 This kind of generic distinction also affects the use of religious discourse: orators use it in accordance with the rules and norms of the institutional context in which they give a speech because it is thought that the Athenians voted differently, according to the speaking context and institutional setting in which they were called to make decisions. G. Martin draws four conclusions about the use of religious discourse, which are discussed in the Introduction to this book. My reading of the whole corpus of the extant speeches of Attic oratory tends to validate Martin’s first three conclusions: references to religious discourse are indeed most extensive in forensic speeches, despite also being notable in symbouleutic and epideictic orations. There are also more instances of religious discourse in forensic public speeches than in private speeches.3 Martin’s conclusion about the constrained use of religious discourse in the Demosthenic corpus of speeches is also true. I would only add that the use of religious discourse in the speeches of Demosthenes is relatively constrained:  a full investigation of the extant speeches reveals that references to matters of religious discourse are made in 460 sections out of 4224 sections of the full corpus of Demosthenic speeches (or 10.9%), with Demosthenes ranking sixth among the Ten Attic Orators in the frequency of deploying religious discourse. Martin’s fourth conclusion, however, is not validated. In fact, as I argue in the Introduction,4 it is the opposite conclusion that the sources allow us to draw: instances of religious discourse are higher in number in the orations that Demosthenes delivered himself than in the three he composed for others to deliver (i.e. speeches 22: Against Androtion; 23: Against Aristocrates; and 24: Against Timocrates). There is also dissent with regard to the interpretive approach to the use of religious discourse: I do not agree, for example, with Martin’s suggestion that religious discourse is deployed differently in logographic and non-​logographic speeches.5 I found largely the same patterns of religious discourse being used in both categories of speeches (e.g. references to oaths and invocations to the gods), with elaboration on the use of religious discourse as a means of attacking opponents (e.g. references to them as being impious) and on remarks about the heavens inspecting law court procedure).

Contextualizing religious discourse  65

Religious discourse beyond (con)textual limitations The first point about contextualization of religious discourse is that specific features and topics are ubiquitous in speeches regardless of genre or any other contextual and institutional restrictions that the public speaking setting creates. References to the role that the gods and other deities or supernatural agents play in influencing lives and determining human actions can be found in all kinds of oratory (i.e. forensic, symbouleutic or epideictic). The same is true for references to impiety, which are frequent in several Attic orators (i.e. Aeschines, Andocides, Demosthenes, Dinarchus and Isocrates) and appear in both forensic public and private speeches (especially those of Demosthenes), as well as in epideictic orations (especially those of Lysias). The ubiquitous use of these patterns is probably due to the effect that they have upon the audience in forming their cognitive/​emotional dispositions towards persons, events or situations, and thus, their power to influence target audiences on matters of legal, political and civil importance, and to mould the civil/​patriotic identity of individuals and the community. There is another point that one can make about the use of patterns beyond (con)textual restrictions: invocations to the gods and the divine, and swearing of oaths, by the speakers  –​ritual utterances that are mainly noted in the oratorical script by the use of formulaic patterns, i.e. vocative phrases (e.g. Antiphon 6.40: ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ θεοὶ πάντες; Demosthenes 6.37, 18.285: ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ θεοί; 18.294:  ὦ γῆ καὶ θεοί), prepositional phrases (e.g. πρὸς τῶν θεῶν) and the particles νὴ and μά  –​can be found in forensic (public and private) and symbouleutic speeches, but not in epideictic ones. Plain (i.e. non-​formulaic) references to the civic and religious valence of the oaths and the obligation of people (i.e. judges, citizens and onlookers) to abide by them can be found in all three genres of oratory, including epideictic oratory. It is important to highlight this distinction between the formulaic and non-​formulaic references to the oaths, the gods and the divine because it may be determined, as it will be argued at the end of this section, by the different context that the three genres of oratory impose. One should consider, first, what makes invocations to the gods and the swearing of oaths recurrent and persistent in forensic and symbouleutic speeches. It has been argued in scholarship that oaths and prayers are two of “the most widespread and effective ways of drawing attention or eliciting trust in interpersonal and intercultural communications”.6 By pledging to speak the truth in the law court and in the Assembly, the speaker aims to appeal to the audience by presenting himself in a positive way, what is known in rhetorical theory as positive ēthopoiia: the messages of a pious man, whose words show that he is respectful to and reveres the gods, are more easily accepted by the audience, and the speaker renders himself more credible and persuasive, even when there is a lack of proofs.7

66  Contextualizing religious discourse Social psychology and anthropology theories and experiments affirm that oaths facilitate interpersonal communication. In a laboratory experiment, N. Jacquemet et al. “ask all players to sign voluntarily an oath. Three results emerge with commitment-​via-​the-​oath: (1) coordination increased by nearly 50%; (2) senders’ messages were significantly more truthful and actions more efficient; and (3) receivers’ trust of messages increased”.8 People who make religious promises about future actions give the impression that they are more likely to keep them than those making neutral commitments. To make communication more effective, we need to create institutions that set the framework for actions and strengthen the tie between intentions and deeds. Oaths and prayers achieve this by stating a very personal and public commitment of duty to uphold specified responsibilities to guide the speakers. When one takes an oath, this act changes the status of subsequent testimony, since the people think that if the person making the oath lies, he would have to suffer from the dire consequences with which the act of perjury usually comes in the modern (and the ancient) world: An oath activates a type of implicit curse: “God will punish me for calling the Deity to witness to an untruth, hence dishonouring God”. And public opinion judges a person dishonoured if he or she does not submit to an oath. (Malina (2001) 41) In Hesiod’s Theogony 780–​805, even immortals face dire consequences if they do not abide by the sacred oath they swear.9 Oaths also have the potential to affect the behaviour and the disposition of the audience who show more trust in senders’ messages because their behaviour is altered by the oath. The trust engendered in others arises as a consequence of the coercive force of the oath on its swearer. As I. Berti points out, “oaths had a very strong coercive force, which bound two or more people together, and one or more individuals to the gods. The obligation to keep an oath was felt to be absolute”.10 To swear or refer to an oath, therefore, is to create a community, or, a group-​identity:  the conscious, psychological attachment to a group and the belief that this group has shared beliefs, values and practices. The creation of a community is designed and expected to have a persuasive impact upon behaviours and attitudes in target audiences.11 Religious and ritual utterances (especially oaths, prayers and invocations to the gods) in forensic and symbouleutic speeches acquire another communicative dimension in that they remind the audience of the association between civic affairs and religion. We should bear in mind that oaths were ubiquitous rituals in ancient Athenian legal, commercial, civic and international spheres. As I. Berti puts it: Oaths were made during legal processes as a guarantee of treaties between poleis, for the foundation of a new colony in international

Contextualizing religious discourse  67 policy, to ratify new laws and public contracts, upon entering a new office as well as a civic division like a phratria, and even before taking part in the Olympic Games. (Berti (2006) 160) Oaths, in other words, can be considered an essential tool for social cohesion and the maintenance of public order. As Lycurgus mentions, the use of oaths “keeps democracy together” (Against Leocrates 79). The fact that extant Greek drama features a formal oath sworn before the audience underlines the significant value attached to oaths.12 The consistent use of oaths, prayers and invocations to the gods in the oratorical settings that require direct and dynamic communication between the speakers and the audience –​i.e. in the forensic and symbouleutic orations –​ also potentially says a lot about the level of performative competency of speakers in antiquity. As ancient sources intimate, oaths and prayers have a direct impact upon hypocrisis –​i.e. the gesticulation and vocal ploys of the speakers:  Demosthenes 18.259–​ 260 refers to sonorous delivery and both Pseudo-​Aristotle, in On the Universe 400a16, and Plato, in Laws 717a, talk about specific gestures that were used for the recital of prayers.13 It should also be mentioned that prayers were not private acts, but public rituals that entail performance: loud voice, cries and shouts, and the use of hand gestures and body movements. Considering that oaths, invocations and other ritualistic actions (e.g. supplication) took place in important legal and political contexts in Athens –​i.e. the law court, the Assembly and the Boulē –​one may infer that a wide range of speakers had the capacity to use religious discourse, whether they were experienced, or relatively less so, as the clients of speechwriters might have been. This capacity may have arisen from them being accustomed to the use of religion in their quotidian life, allowing even non-​professional speakers to develop the level of performative competence necessary to use oaths effectively in speeches. The frequent use of oaths, prayers and other ritualistic dicta in oratory may also indicate that even though it has been argued that, in the Assembly, “proposals [were] argued and decisions [were] taken in a way that cared about the ‘earthly’, natural factors that influenced events”,14 religious discourse was in fact equally proper in both the forensic and symbouleutic contexts of public speaking. The distinction between the law court and the Assembly, which is highlighted in a few ancient sources (such as, for example, in Thucydides’ account, in 3.44, of the debate about the fate of the rebel city Mytilene, where Diodotus complains that his opponent Cleon is treating a policy debate as though it were a trial), may be relevant to other rhetorical techniques and forms of argumentation, but not to religious discourse. In all the oratorical contexts and institutional settings of public speaking, where the challenge is to persuade people, religious discourse is both acceptable and relevant. Martin’s argument that “when making political decisions the Athenians thus tended to act in a way we may call rational [emphasis is mine], not only

68  Contextualizing religious discourse regarding the logical coherence of their arguments but also the limitation of these arguments to the human sphere” is inherently faulty for two reasons.15 The first reason is that it supposes that religious discourse is inherently irrational, i.e. absurd, illogical, lacking sense, the opposite of reason. The depiction of religion as being irrational figures prominently because of the mystical and uncertain nature of the relationship between the gods and humans: the gods are invisible to people; prayers are directed to the gods wherever they are; and signs of divine volition are often given to humans without divinity making its presence evident (with the exception of the epiphanies of gods, only attested in literature, which can be seen as devices for crafting dramatic plots).16 The conjecture about not using religion in political orations because of irrationality is also likely to be permeated by modern sensibilities:  the customs of ancient religion are so alien to us that we tend to disregard their value and significance in warfare and political or decision-​making processes. As W. K. Pritchett points out, “where the ancients assigned a religious motive to some military action, modern discussion seeks political or military ones”.17 To the people of the time, however, religious considerations did not seem irrational in the sense that they do to us.18 What the theory of “polis religion”, together with the information we get from a variety of ancient sources, indicates is that religious practices and discourse were not excluded from political and legal matters. This is perhaps because, as scholars have started to argue, rationality was simply not felt to be in conflict with traditional religious ideas.19 The second reason why I regard the line of argument that religion was not used in political forums due to its “irrationality” as faulty is that it wrongly supposes that what is at stake in the law court is less political –​and perhaps also less important –​than the matters of discussion in the Assembly. This is not true, given that there were purely political cases that affected, or, in turn, were affected by, (intra-​and extra-​state) politics. In fact, often, it was the synergy between forensic rhetoric and political momentum that determined the outcome of trials. The resounding victory of Aeschines against Timarchus may indicate, for example, that the Athenians were still receptive to the arguments made by the supporters of the Peace of Philocrates, before the gradual worsening of relations between Athens and Macedon in 340 BC. Aeschines, using the appropriate arguments and rhetorical techniques, was successful in harnessing the political momentum and using it as a means of persuading the judges in the law court.20 If Timarchus and his ally Demosthenes had defeated Aeschines in the law court as early as in 346 BC, this would have accelerated the political movements, processes and outcomes leading to the Athenians being willing to fight against Philip and the Macedonians earlier than 338 BC. Forensic public speeches could be profoundly political, and profoundly politically significant. What is notable, as mentioned above, is that the formulaic swearing of oaths and invocations to the gods can be found in forensic (public and private) speeches and in symbouleutic speeches, but not in epideictic ones. A possible explanation for this omission may involve the function and purpose of these

Contextualizing religious discourse  69 formulaic phrases: they are used as a means of highlighting the solemnity of the moment, putting mental and emotional pressure on the judges to make the most righteous and polis-​benefiting decision. This can only happen in forensic contexts –​i.e. those speeches delivered in the law court –​and in symbouleutic contexts  –​i.e. those delivered in the Assembly and the Boulē  –​in contexts where the Athenian citizens needed to make decisions. Invoking the gods does not serve any such persuasive end in epideictic, especially funeral, speeches. This is not to suggest, of course, that epideictic speeches do not include references to the gods. There are references, but not in the form of vocative invocations or invocations denoted by the use of prepositions and particles. Religious discourse in epideictic/​funeral speeches includes references to the god-​beloved ancestors, to the exceptional place near the gods that the dead Athenian fighters would have (cf. Demosthenes, Funeral Speech 34)  and to the attitude of the gods towards just men and wrongdoers (cf. Lysias, Funeral Speech 7, 9).

The dichotomy between public and private speeches The presence of specific features and patterns of religious discourse in both forensic (public and private) and symbouleutic speeches invalidates the suggestion that religious references were not expedient in private speeches because these speeches “are generally written in a restrained style, without the spitefulness and vehemence of the public speeches”.21 Although it is generally true that private speeches were not as intense as public speeches, especially in terms of deconstructing the political/​public authority of opponents, as the scarcity of comic invective indicates,22 it is not accurate to say that pathos was not appropriate, relevant or successful in this kind of oratory. For example, Isaeus’ invocation in the peroration of Menecles, §47, calling on the god to affect the judges’ verdict, and his request to the latter to pass their verdict in conformity with their oath, arguably aims to instil a fear in the souls of the judges that the omnipresent and omniscient gods were inspecting them.23 The suggestion that religious discourse is not expedient in private speeches is also flawed because it assumes that religious discourse persuades only by instilling, exciting or increasing pathos. There are two counterarguments here:  first, that religious discourse may increase pathos in specific contexts only, and second, that persistent and repeated references to religious affairs can work persuasively in several other ways, not necessarily of an extra-​or non-​legal character that lies beyond rational reasoning. Religious concepts and norms, and the emotions attached to them, seem designed to excite the human mind, linger in the memory and trigger multiple mind-​making-​or-​ changing inferences. But even if we accept that religious discourse invariably heightens emotions, there is no reason to assume that intense emotional tone violates the court etiquette in private cases. Although L. Rubinstein is right to argue that anger is deployed in public (as opposed to private) cases so as to present the crime as affecting the community as a whole, there are other

70  Contextualizing religious discourse emotions to be exploited in private contexts:  not only fear, as in the case of Isaeus’ Menecles, but also pity, as in Lysias’ Against Simon 48 where the speaker tries to invoke it for himself.24 It is, in fact, the case that the same patterns that are used in public speeches are also deployed in private texts and contexts. These patterns include references, for example, to the law and to the oaths that the judges took to cast the most righteous verdict in a trial (e.g. Demosthenes’ Against Aphobus 1 68, Against Aphobus 3 13, 23, 52–​54, 57–​58, Against Onetor 31, For Phormio 1, 26); invocations to the gods and other deities or divinized entities (e.g. Aeschines’ Against Ctesiphon 260; Demosthenes’ Against Phormio 29; Isaeus’ Philoctemon 58, 51) and accusations that opponents were enemies of the gods (e.g. Lysias’ Against Andocides 11–​12). There is, however, an exception that goes beyond matters of frequency; for it has been argued above that there are more references to matters of religious discourse in public than in private forensic speeches. References to the god-​protected polis and constitution are particularly relevant in the context of public speeches (especially those of Aeschines, Demosthenes 18 and Lycurgus 1), but less so in private orations. As was shown in Chapter 1, these references are also manifest in the extant symbouleutic speeches of Attic oratory, especially those of Demosthenes, where emphasis is placed on the protection that the gods grant to the polis in general (rather than to the constitution in particular). This may indicate the close connection between the law court and the Assembly, and the importance of exploiting religious discourse to the best rhetorical effect in both institutional contexts. The reason why there is a difference between the public and private speeches in referring to the gods or the divine protecting the city may be due to matters of genre. In public speeches there is more at stake than in private speeches, in a sense that public trials may have to do with severe crimes against the constitution and the city (as in graphē paranomōn and eisangelia cases). For we can confidently argue that the envisioned connection of democracy with the gods, apart from being exploited by the speakers to the best rhetorical effect, also tacitly points to the general fear that democracy could be subverted. We know that the fear of tyranny persisted throughout the classical period, albeit perhaps in an attenuated form, and induced the Athenians to pass anti-​tyrannical legislation, such as the law of Eucrates (337/​336 BC).25 While private cases may have been important for the individuals involved, they do not carry the level of importance that public cases have, especially when dealing with crimes against the whole community. An exception is homicide cases (Antiphon’s speeches, including the three Tetralogies, and Lysias 1, 3, 4, 12, 13). In these speeches, there are references to religious pollution that may affect the community because of the murder that an individual committed.26 Once again, the political gravity of these cases is not as important as that of public forensic speeches, especially those that clearly tackle matters of political character. In this respect, it may have been more plausible, and more persuasive, for the speakers in public cases to argue that their opponents were

Contextualizing religious discourse  71 hated by the gods because of their wrongdoings against the city and the whole body politic, than to say that the gods would intervene to destroy individuals because of their misdemeanours against other individuals. It may be interesting to mention here that the dichotomy between prosecution and defence speeches produces, like the dichotomy between public and private speeches, only a few divergences in the use of religious discourse. Patterns of religious discourse in both prosecution and defence include invocations to the gods and references to, or swearing of, oaths, but there is a distinct and reasonable difference: in the prosecutions religious discourse is used to attack the opponents, a strategy missing from the defence speeches. There are only two exceptions that confirm the rule: in Lysias 9.15, 17, there are references to the speaker’s opponents as having violated the oaths and disdained to show fear of the gods; and in Demosthenes 18, Aeschines is accused of participating in the Dionysus/​Bacchus and Sabazius rites, and the utterance of ritualistic dicta (§§259–​260). It is, of course, important to mention that the emphasis in the Demosthenic passage is more on the presentation of Aeschines’ low social and economic standing and his dubious sexual and moral upbringing (as also in 19.199–​200, a prosecution speech),27 and not so much on his religious activities per se. In Hypereides 4.15, 17, the speaker anticipates the accusations for religious misconduct that Euxenippus’ accusers use, only in order to defend him; there is no adversarial attack, in other words.

Symbouleutic and epideictic orations Religious discourse in symbouleutic speeches encompasses patterns and features that are also used in forensic and epideictic oratory, such as the references to the divine, interfering with human lives and to impiety.There are also patterns of religious discourse that are used in forensic (public and private) and symbouleutic speeches, but not in epideictic ones. The making of formulaic invocations to the gods and the divine, and swearing of oaths, is frequent in the former two genres of oratory, while plain references to the civic and religious valence of the oaths and the obligation of people (i.e. judges, citizens and onlookers) to abide by them can be found in all three genres of oratory, including epideictic oratory. The similarity in the patterns of religious discourse that are used both in forensic and symbouleutic orations underlines that, despite what theorists argue about the level of difference in deploying rhetorical techniques, the law court and the Assembly are, in practice, closely connected. Despite the similarities in technique, there are also specific differences. Unlike his forensic oratory, for example, Demosthenes’ symbouleutic speeches distinctively contain several recurrent references to the polis as being favoured and blessed by the gods and other divinized powers, such as fortune (τύχη; e.g. Olynthiac 1.10; 2.1, 22; Philippic 1.12, 37, 45; 4.24, 31). The attempted connection of the gods, the divine, and religion in general, with the

72  Contextualizing religious discourse polis (and politics more broadly) is also repeatedly used in the symbouleutic speeches of Isocrates (as in Panegyricus 29, 60; Plataicus 60; Archidamus 31). The consistent and persistent use of this topic in symbouleutic speeches suggests that it was unsurprisingly a particular feature of this generic category of oratory: the speakers are advising people about the future, i.e. the unknown, and it is wise to mention that they have the gods on their side. The exceptional reference to fortune in Demosthenes’ On the Crown is probably due to the fact that there is a shift in register and tone from forensic to symbouleutic oratory. As argued in my book, Attic Oratory and Performance, “despite being judicial, delivered in court and aimed to persuade the judges to cast their vote rejecting an indictment, [Demosthenes’ On the Crown] also ha[s]‌affinities with the other two genres of oratory, symbouleutic and epideictic”.28 Religious discourse in epideictic oratory, restrained as it is, includes references to the relationship between the gods and the humans, as, for example, in the speeches of Demosthenes, Hypereides, Isocrates and Lysias, where information is given about humans who are eternally blessed because they revered the gods, or because they share common pedigree or have an erotic connection with them.29 Religious discourse in Isocrates’ epideictic orations also includes references to the duty of leaders to show devotion to the gods (e.g. To Demonicus 13; Panathenaicus 204), to the intervention of the divine in human affairs (e.g. To Demonicus 34:  παρὰ μὲν τῶν θεῶν εὐτυχίαν > εὐ + τύχη “the best thing which we have from the gods is good fortune”; Panathenaicus 81), to the role of the gods in favouring or punishing people (e.g. To Nicocles 20; Busiris 25, 28, 41; Panathenaicus 7, 186, 244, 254) and to the connection of religion with the political and constitutional systems (e.g. Nicocles or The Cyprians 26; Busiris 26, 35). The deployment of religious discourse in the epideictic speeches of Isocrates indicates that, apart from the distinct attention that is paid to the personal and ancestral relationship between gods and humans, the majority of features of religious discourse are held in common with those in the forensic speeches of Isocrates and in the rest of the Ten Attic Orators. The topics deployed in epideictic contexts are those one might expect in this oratorical genre. Epideictic oratory, as Isocrates argues, deals with great affairs of individuals and life, and displays the ability of people to speak eloquently. Isocrates also points out that (his) epideictic speeches “bring most profit to those who hear them” (Panegyricus 4). In the same vein, C. Carey argues that “in the case of the funeral oration, speeches classed as display had an important role to play in social definition. Other speeches in this category had an important place in rhetorical education, as a demonstration of methods of argumentation”.30 References to people who were intimate with the gods, and, for that reason, rewarded by being eternally blessed because they showed pure reverence to the gods and respect for the divine morality, clearly serve the educational role of epideictic oratory and benefit those listening to it.

Contextualizing religious discourse  73

Individuality and circumstance One should not see the use of patterns of religious discourse in the extant oratorical speeches as inevitable or necessary. Some public speeches only include religious discourse rarely, or not at all, suggesting that the use of this kind of discourse is a matter of choice rather a necessity attached to the context of public speaking. The five forensic speeches of Hypereides (In Defence of Lycophron, Against Philippides, Against Athenogenes, In Defence of Euxenippus and Against Demosthenes), for example, are notable for the scant use of religious discourse (a lack that also marks the epideictic speech of Hypereides). The case of Hypereides indicates that, despite the extensive use of religious discourse in public forensic speeches, there is no mandatory pattern that all the orators should follow. There is enough scope for individuality and idiosyncrasy to affect the use of religious discourse. Idiosyncrasy, personal style and specific circumstances seem to be the key factors that determine –​to some extent, at least –​the use of religious discourse in Demosthenes’ On the Crown, Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates, Aeschines’ Against Timarchus and almost the entire corpus of Lysias’ speeches, even his public speeches. The use of particular religious patterns in these speeches is, in many ways, exceptional. The speeches of Demosthenes and Lycurgus are exceptional in starting with a prayer from the first section of their exordium. Demosthenes, as argued in Chapter 1, in his On the Crown speech, attributes to fortune, the gods and the divine the absolute responsibility for the failure of his policy towards Philip and the Kingdom of Macedon (an idea that is repeated in Olynthiac 2.22).31 The fact that these two orators, Lycurgus and Demosthenes, pay that exaggerated attention to the role of the divine makes their references exceptional and circumstantial, in the sense that they are tailored to the occasion.32 This is particularly true in the case of Demosthenes: trying to exonerate himself completely from any accusation that might be levelled against him with regard to his failed anti-​Macedonian policy, which brought destruction upon Athens in the battle of Chaeronea in 338 BC, Demosthenes exaggerates the role of the gods and the divine as fully determining human lives and actions, leaving no scope and freedom for humans to think, make decisions and act. This is striking inasmuch as it ignores, in On the Crown, a powerful strand in ancient thought on causation that assigns importance to human agency:  even if divine forces instigate human actions and determine outcomes, humans can make decisions and take responsibility for them.33 A plethora of ancient proverbial sources underline the significance of human initiative;34 most notably, Demosthenes himself does so in Olynthiac 2.23, a paragraph after the one in which he expresses his firm belief that fortune has great powers to affect human affairs: “but one who is himself idle cannot possibly call upon his friends, much less upon the gods, to work for him”. The deification of phēmē, “rumour”, in Aeschines’ speech 1, Against Timarchus, is also driven by circumstances. A  reason why the speaker does so is that he has no concrete evidence that Timarchus was a prostitute or

74  Contextualizing religious discourse an individual who deserved to be punished by the polis for his wrongdoing. By according divine status to rumour, Aeschines endowed his argument with divine authority, with the aim of protecting himself not only from the accusation of making unsubstantiated attacks on Timarchus, but also from the accusation of aischrology. A speaker who talks about a shameful act, even if not his own, runs the risk of incurring shame for merely discussing shameful things (Aeschines’ Against Timarchus 37–​38).35 So the deification of phēmē is designed and intended to make Aeschines’ speech credible and persuasive, and to allow him new licence to speak of shameful and defamatory things –​a licence that he fully exploited to the best rhetorical effect in the prosecution of Timarchus. Finally, the almost complete lack of patterns of religious discourse in the speeches of Lysias, even those that have an explicitly religious title or topic, such as his speeches that relate to impiety,36 may point to Lysias’ personal distaste for religious arguments, since there is no, or at least no explicit, manifest and artful rhetorical reason behind the general omission of religious references from public forensic speeches. If that omission was driven by strategic reasons, why did Aeschines, Demosthenes, Lycurgus and other orators do exactly the opposite by paying attention to the deployment of religious discourse in their public orations? If their strategic purposes are served by religious discourse, why are those of Lysias not served by the same discourse? A reason one can propose to justify the omission of religious discourse from some speeches and the restrained use in some others is that the speeches of Lysias, unlike those of Aeschines and Demosthenes, are not about grand political affairs that impact upon inter-​or intra-​state politics concerning peace, war and the Athenian hegemonic role in Greece. Even the public speeches of Lysias, which concern the relations between individuals and the polis (as, for example, speech 12: Against Eratosthenes; speech 25: Defence against a Charge of Subverting the Democracy;37 speech 31: Against Philon), would not have had a huge impact upon the Athenian or Hellenic political state of affairs. This is because they do not examine the impact of individual political actions on foreign policy, as the speeches of Aeschines and Demosthenes do. In Aeschines’ speeches, for example, Demosthenes is accused of bringing destruction upon Athens because of his failed policy towards Philip of Macedon. In the public speeches of Lysias the focus is on the behaviour and actions of individuals connected with internal political processes or anomalies (e.g. Eratosthenes killed Lysias’ brother during the reign of the Thirty Tyrants), but they only affect the lives of the individuals involved in the cases. This lack of political grandiosity in Lysias’ speeches may make the use of religious discourse less necessary or compelling.

Conclusions The following conclusions can be drawn from this attempt to contextualize religious discourse and explain its use in forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic

Contextualizing religious discourse  75 speeches. First, that there are specific patterns of religious discourse that are ubiquitous in all three oratorical genres. Second, there are many similarities between the ways in which religious discourse is deployed in forensic and symbouleutic speeches. These two observations indicate perhaps that the boundaries between oratorical genres may have been less strict for the ancient Greeks than what prescriptive ancient theorists, such as Aristotle and Quintilian, thought, and what modern scholars tend to believe.38 There are, of course, distinctive patterns that are used in specific oratorical texts and contexts and with differing frequency, depending on the institutional etiquette and the specific purposes that each of the three genres of oratory serves. The third conclusion is that the specific methods, style and frequency of the use of religious discourse vary according to the context and the speaker. Personal (dis)taste and circumstantial motifs and reasons also play an important role in determining the ways in which religious discourse is used in forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations.

Notes 1 Readings on (New) Institutionalism include:  Merton (1938) 672–​ 682; Simon (1965); Pitkin (1967); Meyer and Rowan (1977); Kratochwil (1984) 695–​708; Apter (1991) 463–​481; Weaver and Rockman (1993); March and Olsen (1995); Egeberg (2003). 2 Rubinstein (2004) 187–​203, (2005) 129–​145. 3 For a more detailed discussion of the use of religious discourse in speeches, with numbers and figures that support my conclusions, see pp. 17, 21 n.3. 4 See p. 18. 5 Martin (2009) 135–​136, 211. 6 Ibrahim (2009) 475–​498. 7 Lack of tangible proofs was a general problem that Attic orators had to tackle. Apart from the notorious case of Aeschines, who accused Timarchus of prostitution and moral depravity without having any concrete evidence, Demosthenes in his speech of 346 BC, On the False Embassy, also notoriously does not present any irrefutable proofs that Aeschines is guilty of bribe-​taking. Lack of tangible proofs is also a problem when it comes to the historicity and facticity of descriptions in Attic speeches, as in Demosthenes 18.169 and 262. Further, see Serafim (2015) 96–​108. On ēthopoiia in Greek oratory: Serafim (2017) 25–​26. 8 Jacquemet et  al. (2013) 1–​20. Cf. Ellingsen and Johannesson (2004) 397–​420; Charness and Dufwenberg (2006) 1579–​1601; Vanberg (2008) 1467–​1480. 9 On perjury in ancient religion: Fitzgerald (2006) 178–​197. 10 Berti (2006) 181. 11 Tajfel and Turner (1979). Also: Miller et al. (1981) 494–​511; Conover (1984) 760–​ 785; Lau (1989) 220–​223; Carey (1990) 49; Huddy (2003) 511–​558; Hall (2006) 388; Arena (2007) 151. 12 On the use of oaths in Greek drama: Fletcher (2012). 13 For more information about the ways in which religious discourse affects the lively performance of the speakers, especially hypocrisis, see Chapter 3, pp. 83–95. 14 Martin (2009) 292.

76  Contextualizing religious discourse 15 Martin (2009) 292–​293. A  similarly faulty line of argument can also be found in Whitmarsh (2015): “there are times when these orators strive to present their clients as pious types and their opponents as contemptuous of religion (although this actually a rather rare strategy: much more emphasis is placed on responsible citizenship [emphasis is mine] and on the treatment of fellow human beings)”. 16 Dodds (1951) 1 identifies the opposite of what is rational as “the awareness of mystery and the ability to penetrate to the deeper, less conscious levels of human experience”. On the mystical relationship between the gods and the humans: Otto (1917); Gekle (1993); Bowden (2004); Johnston and Struck (2005); Gagné (2019)  36–​87. 17 Pritchett (1979) 3. 18 The criticism of irrationality is profound in a few ancient texts and contexts. The case of the author of the treatise On the Sacred Disease, who sets out a rational and natural causation of epilepsy, is a telling example of this criticism. See Lloyd (1979) 15–​29; Whitmarsh (2015). However, scientists were not invariably good representatives of the popular beliefs and practices of their time. 19 Bowden (2016) 543–​554. 20 Serafim (2020). 21 Martin (2009) 293. 22 Having investigated several private forensic speeches –​i.e. Demosthenes 50–​56 and Lysias 10, 11, 17, 23 and 32 –​I can confirm that there is a lack of patterns of comic invective. 23 Isaeus, Menecles 47:  “do not allow Menecles, by the gods and deities I  beseech you, to be insulted by my opponents, but mindful of the law and of the oath which you have sworn and of the arguments which have been used in support of my plea, pass in accordance with the laws the verdict which is just and in conformity with your oath”. For more on the exploitation of references to religious discourse as a means of invoking emotions, see Chapter 3, pp. 95–110. 24 Against Simon 48: “So as a matter of justice I should receive pity both from you and from other people, not only if I were to suffer the fate that Simon intends, but simply because I have been compelled to undergo such a trial on the basis of an episode like this”. Translation: Todd (2007) 307. 25 On the Athenian laws against tyranny:  Ostwald (1955) 103–​28; Gagarin (1981) 71–​7; Henderson (2003) 156; Ober (2003) 222–​4. On the fear of subversion: Carey (2005) 75. 26 This is a topic that has been discussed a lot in the classical scholarship on the Greek orators. The most recent and comprehensive discussion, with updated references to influential scholarly work on the matter, is in Plastow (2020) 50–​88. 27 Serafim (2019) 233–​253. 28 Serafim (2017) 7. 29 See also pp. 48–49. 30 Carey (2007) 237. Readings on the fundamental features of forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic speeches include: Fahnestock (1993) 267–​268; Sheard (1996) 773–​ 776; Albaladejo (2003) 51–​58. 31 Demosthenes’ Olynthiac 2.22: “But if any of you, Athenians, seeing Philip’s good fortune, thinks that he is in that respect a formidable antagonist, he reasons like a prudent man. For fortune is indeed a great weight in the scales; I might almost say it is everything in human affairs”.

Contextualizing religious discourse  77 32 References to the role that fortune plays in politics can be found elsewhere in the transmitted speeches of Attic oratory, but without being as recurrent, and thus as emphatic, as in Demosthenes 18 and Lycurgus 1. An example of a less emphatic reference to the role of fortune is in Dinarchus’ Against Demosthenes 32:  “Charidemus set out to visit the Persian King, wishing to do you some practical service apart from mere talking, and anxious at his own peril to win safety for you and every Greek. Demosthenes went round the market making speeches and associating himself with the project. So completely did fortune (ἡ τύχη) wreck this plan that it turned out in just the opposite way to what was expected”. 33 Plato (Republic 388a–​ b) and Aristotle (Nicomachean Ethics 1099a31–​1099b7, 1099b20–​5, 1100b8–​11) argue that human well-​being is not totally affected by uncontrollable circumstances. Secondary readings include:  Mikalson (1983) 59–​60; Nussbaum (1986) 318–​323, 332, 380–​1; Mogyorodi (1996) 359; Wallace (2007) 139. 34 For example, Aeschylus (fr. 395) notes, φιλεῖ δὲ τῷ κάμνοντι συσπεύδειν θεός “god loves to aid the man who toils”; Sophocles fr. 407: οὐκ ἔστι τοῖς μὴ δρῶσι σύμμαχος τύχη “good luck never accompanies those who do not work”. Aesop (6th century BC) also underlines the significance of action in his notable phrase σὺν Ἀθηνᾷ καὶ χεῖρα κίνει “along with Athena, move also your hand” (Fables 30: Shipwrecker; cf. Proverbs 36). 35 Aeschines asks the audience, in 1.37, to pardon him if he uses “some expression that is as bad as Timarchus’ deeds”, while in 1.38 he points out that “the blame should rather be his [meaning Timarchus], if it is a fact that his life has been so shameful that a man who is describing his behaviour is unable to say what he wishes without using expressions that are likewise shameful”. 36 See Chapter 1, pp. 52. 37 Speech 25, in particular, is suggested to have been a stylistic exercise of a hypothetic defence of an individual rather than a case delivered in the law court. Dover (1968) 188–​189 argues that the lack of specific details suggests speech 25 is “a hypothetical defence of a man against whom the charge is made at a dokimasia that he remained in the city during the rule of the Thirty Tyrants”; Elster (2004) 20 argues that “the cynically blatant appeal to self-​interest in that speech would render it ineffective in an actual trial”. 38 Aristotle in Rhetoric 1404b famously stresses the differences between poetry and oratory in matters of style. In a similar vein, Quintilian in Institutio Oratoria 11.3.182–​183 draws a sharp contrast between the style of delivery appropriate for an actor and that suitable for an orator. In modern scholarship, Harris (2017) 238–​239 is a fervent proponent of these ancient prescriptive perceptions that “the Athenians took the boundaries between genres very seriously and expected them to be respected”. The sharp contrast in style between poetry and prose/​oratory that Aristotle and Quintilian describe may not have been that sharp, definitive and crystal-​clear in practice, inasmuch as ancient sources mention that a speaker is successful if and whenever he uses acting techniques to engage and win over the target audience. This would seem to imply that acting skills and talents were not thought of as being confined rigidly to the theatre; see Serafim (2017) 81–​ 82. In principle, ancient theorists do not always describe practice accurately. A notorious example of this failure can be found in The Rhetoric to Alexander

78  Contextualizing religious discourse 1441b24–​9 where the speakers are admonished to use humour and laughter-​ inducing techniques in public orations only. The transmitted scripts of public orations indicate, however, how widespread the use of these techniques was in the courtroom.

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3  Reacting to the “airy nothing”

I owe the title of this ­chapter –​particularly the expression “airy nothing” –​ to P.  Boyer, who, in the first chapter of his book Religion Explained:  The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought, argues for the construction of gods and religion by humans, and illustrates the ways in which perceptions about the divine are (mis)used by them.1 The aim of Chapter 3 of my book is to provide information about the actual reactions (i.e. what ancient sources inform us had happened in the context of public speaking) or expected reactions (i.e. what we expect that might have happened)2 of both the speaker and the audience, when religious stimuli are provided. These reactions, I  argue, may be categorized as physical/​sensory and cognitive/​ emotional reactions. Physical/​sensory reactions refer to the verbal aspects of the speaker’s or the audience’s reactions (i.e. voice reactions such as shouting, booing, heckling, laughing) or non-​verbal aspects (i.e. gestures such as pointing, clapping, throwing objects)  –​everything that has to do with the senses of sight and hearing.3 Cognitive/​emotional reactions refer to the mental disposition that religious discourse engenders in the audience and to the emotions it triggers. The presence of an audience is connected with the possibility of interacting and, eventually, persuading. Persuasion can be examined from various angles, at different levels of language and using different theoretical approaches. There is always, however, a common denominator:  an interactive relationship between the speaker and the audience that is based on cultural, social and situational/​circumstantial principles. Reading through the entire corpus of the transmitted speeches of the Ten Attic Orators, and using the information conveyed by other ancient sources, wherever this is possible, I explore the features of specific passages that enable us to reconstruct the ways in which the speaker uses religious discourse and how the ancient audience might have experienced them and reacted, physically and/​or cognitively/​emotionally. We should always bear in mind of course that the precise reaction of the audiences will perpetually elude us. The most achievable aim of any inquiry is, therefore, inevitably limited to shedding light on what effect thoughts and emotional appeals might have had, or aimed to have, on the ancient audience.

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  83 This chapter is divided into two parts:  the first, “A two-​cornered active involvement: The speaker and the audience”, focuses on the exploration of the physical/​sensory reactions of both the speaker and the audience: the ways in which religious discourse influenced the former’s gesticulation and the use of other bodily movements and vocal ploys, and the ways in which the latter reacted verbally (i.e. voice reactions) or non-​verbally (i.e. bodily or physical reactions). The second part of this chapter, “Cognitive dispositions and emotional reactions”, explores the ways in which the use of religious discourse in the speeches of the Ten Attic Orators created, or aimed to create, a certain cognitive disposition in the audience, and instigated specific emotions. The high frequency of the use of religious discourse in Attic oratory perhaps indicates that the speakers (and speechwriters) recognized it as an effective means of winning over the audience. But how exactly does religious discourse participate in influencing people’s thoughts and how does it make such thoughts intensely emotional? This question is for the second part of this chapter to answer.

A two-​cornered active involvement: The speaker and the audience Let us start from the ways in which religious discourse affects the physical/​sensory reactions of the speaker. The use of prayers, oaths and invocations to the gods points to the use of elevated hypocrisis by the speaker in an attempt to highlight the solemnity of the moment and affect the verdict of the audience more decisively. Hypocrisis, i.e. the intentional use of movements of the body and vocal techniques that are meaningful in specific cultural and performative contexts, was considered to be an important part of public speaking etiquette. As Aristotle notes pertinently: Since the whole business of rhetoric is to influence opinion, we must pay attention to it, not as being right, but necessary. Now, when hypocrisis comes into fashion, it will have the same effect as acting. Wherefore people who excel in this in their turn obtain prizes, just as orators who excel in delivery; for written speeches owe their effect not so much to the sense as to the style. (Aristotle, Rhetoric 1404a1–​5)4 Several sources also highlight the significance of the use of hypocrisis in public speaking. There is an anecdotal story that “when someone asked Demosthenes what the first most important skill in oratory is, he said ‘hypocrisis’; and the second ‘hypocrisis’; and the third ‘hypocrisis’ ” (Plutarch’s Lives of the Ten Orators 845b1–​5). In Demosthenes, Plutarch writes: There is a story about Demosthenes, that he was approached by a man asking him to help him plead in court. When the man explained how he had been defeated by someone, Demosthenes said “but you have not at all suffered what you say you have suffered”. The man raised his voice

84  Reacting to the “airy nothing” and screamed, “Have I, Demosthenes, not at all suffered?” and then Demosthenes said, “Oh yes, now, I hear the voice of someone who has been wronged and suffered”. This shows how important for persuasion he considered the pitch of voice and delivery to be for speakers. (11.2–​3)5 These sources underline the importance of hypocrisis. Body and voice are used as a conduit. The notion of body as conduit belongs to Y.  Covington-​ Ward, who coined and used it in her book Gesture and Power:  Religion, Nationalism and Everyday Performance in Congo: The human body is an important site for affecting group and individual subjectivities and identities,6 and everyday performances, such as gestures and other movements of the body, can be used to strategically engender social action, either to unify groups of people in concerted action, or even to foster dissent. (Covington-​Ward (2016) 10) We can, in other words, say that body and voice are the conduit for adding meaning to the words. The speakers in the ancient Athenian decision-​making forums use bodily gestures and vocal ploys in an attempt to shape thought processes and to strengthen the messages that are incorporated in and submitted by their orations. Prayers, oaths and invocations were inherently performative. L.  Pernot uses the term “the actio of prayer” to indicate this performative quality, referring chiefly to the use of raised voice and physical gestures.7 The use of ritualistic utterances in the law court is, in a sense, a speech-​act: when the speaker utters the formulaic phrases that signify prayers, oaths and other invocations to the gods, he actually performs these rituals.8 In praying, particularly, the performer would have raised his voice (as Demosthenes 18.259–​260 points out), while also raising his hands to the heavens. Pseudo-​Aristotle informs us that people in antiquity raised their hands to the sky when praying (On the Universe 400a16: καὶ γὰρ πάντες ἄνθρωποι ἀνατείνομεν τὰς χεῖρας εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν εὐχὰς ποιούμενοι),9 a reference that is also made in Demosthenes 43.66 (θεοῖς Ὀλυμπίοις καὶ Ὀλυμπίαις πάντεσσι καὶ πάσαις, δεξιὰς καὶ ἀριστερὰς ἀνίσχοντας “[the Athenians sacrifice] in honour of all the Olympian gods and goddesses, lifting up the right hand and the left”). Plato also informs us that whenever someone called on the Olympian gods he would raise his right hand, whereas when he prayed to chthonian gods, such as Earth, he would raise his left hand (Laws 717a: καὶ τοὺς τὴν πόλιν ἔχοντας θεοὺς τοῖς χθονίοις ἄν τις θεοῖς ἄρτια καὶ δεύτερα καὶ ἀριστερὰ νέμων). There is, therefore, good reason to argue that when Attic orators recited prayers (and other ritualistic invocations to the gods such as curses), they would have raised the volume of their voice and stretched out one or both hands.10

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  85 This should be the case with Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates and Demosthenes’ On the Crown, which are remarkable, in Attic oratory, for starting with prayers.11 Introduction is important in disposing the hearers favourably towards oneself and unfavourably towards the adversary, amplifying and depreciating, exciting the emotions of the hearer, and finally winning over the audience. εὔχομαι γὰρ τῇ Ἀθηνᾷ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις θεοῖς καὶ τοῖς ἥρωσι τοῖς κατὰ τὴν πόλιν καὶ τὴν χώραν ἱδρυμένοις, εἰ μὲν εἰσήγγελκα Λεωκράτη δικαίως καὶ κρίνω τὸν προδόντ᾽ αὐτῶν καὶ τοὺς νεὼς καὶ τὰ ἕδη καὶ τὰ τεμένη καὶ τὰς ἐν τοῖς νόμοις τιμὰς καὶ θυσίας τὰς ὑπὸ τῶν ὑμετέρων προγόνων παραδεδομένας… So I pray to Athena and those other gods and heroes whose statues are erected in our city and the country round to receive this prayer. If I have done justly to prosecute Leocrates, if he whom I now bring to trial has been a traitor to their temples, shrines and precincts, a traitor to the honours which your laws ordain and the sacrificial rituals which your ancestors have handed down… (Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 1) Πρῶτον μέν, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, τοῖς θεοῖς εὔχομαι πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις, ὅσην εὔνοιαν ἔχων ἐγὼ διατελῶ τῇ τε πόλει καὶ πᾶσιν ὑμῖν, τοσαύτην ὑπάρξαι μοι παρ’ ὑμῶν εἰς τουτονὶ τὸν ἀγῶνα. Let me begin, men of Athens, by beseeching all the Powers of Heaven that on this trial I may find in Athenian hearts such benevolence towards me as I have ever cherished for the city and the people of Athens. (Demosthenes, On the Crown 1) These prayers locate the here and now of the two trials in a larger civic context, which is both secular and sacred and, among other effects, serve the speakers’ purpose to invite the judges to envisage themselves as being constantly watched and evaluated by a divine audience, which is present, if unseen, in the law court. The speakers’ gestural and vocal delivery would almost certainly be used in both passages in a way that would strengthen the impact that prayers are designed, or thought, to have upon the audience.12 Examples of oaths that also offer clues to hypocrisis can be found in the whole corpus of Attic oratorical speeches. The following passages are worth considering because of their notable linguistic and semantic features: [1]‌ καὶ νὴ τοὺς θεοὺς τοὺς Ὀλυμπίους, ὧν ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι Δημοσθένην λέξειν, ἐφ’ ᾧ νυνὶ μέλλω λέγειν ἀγανακτῶ μάλιστα.

86  Reacting to the “airy nothing” And by the gods of Olympus, of all the things I hear Demosthenes will say, the one I am about to tell you enrages me the most. (Aeschines 3.228) [2]‌ οὐ γὰρ ἀφαιρεῖσθαι δεῖ τὸ προσελθεῖν τῷ δήμῳ καὶ λόγου τυχεῖν, οὐδ᾽ ἐν ἐπηρείας τάξει καὶ φθόνου τοῦτο ποιεῖν: οὔτε μὰ τοὺς θεοὺς ὀρθῶς ἔχον οὔτε πολιτικὸν οὔτε δίκαιόν ἐστιν, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι. It is not right to debar a man from access to the Assembly and a fair hearing, still less to do so by way of spite and jealousy. No, by heavens, men of Athens, it is neither just, nor constitutional, nor honest. (Demosthenes 18.13) [3]‌ ἐμοὶ μὲν νὴ τὸν Δία καὶ τὸν Ἀπόλλω καὶ τὴν Ἀθηνᾶν (εἰρήσεται γάρ, εἴτ᾽ ἄμεινον εἴτε μή) ὅθ᾽ οὗτος ὡς ἀπήλλαγμαι περιιὼν ἐλογοποίει, ἔνδηλοί τινες ἦσαν ἀχθόμενοι τῶν πάνυ τούτῳ λαλούντων ἡδέως. καὶ νὴ Δί᾽ αὐτοῖς πολλὴ συγγνώμη: οὐ γάρ ἐστι φορητὸς ἅνθρωπος, ἀλλὰ καὶ πλουτεῖ μόνος καὶ λέγειν δύναται μόνος, καὶ πάντες εἰσὶ τούτῳ καθάρματα καὶ πτωχοὶ καὶ οὐδ᾽ ἄνθρωποι. I swear solemnly by Zeus, by Apollo, and by Athena—​for I will speak out, whatever the result may be—​for when this man was going about, trumping up the story that I had abandoned the prosecution, I observed signs of disgust even among his ardent supporters. And by heaven! They had some excuse, for there is no putting up with the fellow; he claims to be the only rich man and the only man who knows how to speak; all others are in his opinion outcasts, beggars, below the rank of  men. (Demosthenes 21.198) [4]‌ οἶμαι δέ, νὴ τὸν Δία τὸν Ὀλύμπιον, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί, οὐκ ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου τὴν ὕβριν καὶ τὴν ὑπερηφανίαν ἐπελθεῖν Ἀνδροτίωνι, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὸ τῆς θεοῦ ἐπιπεμφθεῖσαν, ἵν᾽, ὥσπερ οἱ τὰ ἀκρωτήρια τῆς Νίκης περικόψαντες ἀπώλοντ᾽ αὐτοὶ ὑφ᾽ αὑτῶν, οὕτω καὶ οὗτοι αὐτοὶ αὑτοῖς δικαζ όμενοι ἀπόλοιντο, καὶ τὰ χρήματα καταθεῖεν δεκαπλάσια κατὰ τοὺς νόμους ἢ δεθεῖεν. For I think, by Zeus of Olympus, men of Athens, that Androtion became the victim of this arrogant, overbearing temper, not by accident, but by the visitation of the gods, to the end that, as the mutilators of the statue of Victory perished by their own hands, so these men should perish by litigation among themselves, and should either make tenfold restitution, as the laws direct, or be cast into prison. (Demosthenes 24.121)13

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  87 [5]‌ οὗτος δὲ ἢ πάντων εὐτυχέστατός ἐστιν ἢ πλεῖστον γνώμῃ διαφέρει τῶν ἄλλων, ὃς μόνος τῶν συγγενομένων Ἀνδοκίδῃ οὐκ ἐξηπατήθη ὑπ᾽ ἀνδρὸς τοιούτου, ὃς τέχνην ταύτην ἔχει, τοὺς μὲν ἐχθροὺς μηδὲν ποιεῖν κακόν, τοὺς δὲ φίλους ὅ τι ἂν δύνηται κακόν. ὥστε μὰ τὸν Δία οὐ ῥᾴδιόν ἐστιν ὑμῖν αὐτῷ οὐδὲν χαρισαμένοις παρὰ τὸ δίκαιον λαθεῖν τοὺς Ἕλληνας. That monarch is either the most fortunate of them all, or far above the rest in intelligence, since he alone of those who dealt with Andocides was not deceived by the sort of man who has the art of doing no harm to his enemies but as much as he can to his friends. So, by Zeus, it is no easy matter for you to show him any indulgence in contempt of justice without being noticed by the Greeks. (Lysias 6.7) These oaths must be taken as a means of adding emphasis to the solemn momentum of the law court trials their speakers are involved in, inviting the audience, especially the judges, to realize that they are under constant inspection by the gods until the final cast of their verdict. It is quite notable that there is an accumulation of oaths in the third passage:  there are three oaths in a row and another in a following sentence, where Demosthenes says he would speak out despite the personal and political cost he may incur, and where he accused his opponent as being hated even among his supporters. Accumulation of oaths is infrequent in Attic speeches: most of the times, oaths to two gods in row are used (as, for example, in Demosthenes 34.29; 35.40; 39.21; 40.5; 57.50, etc.).14 References to the gods in texts and contexts where the speakers aim to underline the solemnity of the law court moment and explain what is at stake would certainly have come out in a more pronounced and decisive way, if the speakers were to have added some vocal and tonal emphasis to their words by raising the volume and tone of their voice. Some of the features of these passages, and the heightened contexts in which they are placed, allow us to draw specific conclusions or make confident inferences about the gestural and vocal ploys of hypocrisis that the speakers are likely to have used to underline and strengthen their messages to the audience or the emotions they wanted to convey to the judges and the onlookers. In the first passage, there is a strong emotive first-​person verb ἀγανακτῶ, the force of which is strengthened by the superlative adverb μάλιστα. I have previously argued that: Emotionally laden language makes‌it feasible for us to infer that the invocation and the oath may have been reinforced by vocal ploys of delivery that would have worked as a means of underlining Aeschines’ (real or fabricated) emotions towards his opponent. (Serafim (2017) 118)

88  Reacting to the “airy nothing” The first person verb also indicates an attempt by Aeschines to manoeuvre the audience into a position of sharing his indignation: for when the emotion is presented in an emphatic way, it seems to be authentic, thus having the potential to engage the audience and invite its members to espouse the arguments of the speaker, even, according to Aristotle, “when there is nothing in his arguments” (Rhetoric 1408a9–​32). The accumulation of important terms in the second passage (i.e. “just”, “constitutional”, “honest”), where Demosthenes talks about the outrageous ribaldry of Aeschines towards him that would have negative consequences upon his political rights and his status as Athenian citizen, indicates the elevated emotional tone of this passage. The oath μὰ τοὺς θεοὺς that is placed in the last sentence of the passage, where emotional elevation reaches a climax, does not, from a factual perspective, add anything to the meaning of the text. It does, however, strengthen the emotional tone of the passage: Demosthenes makes the gods witnesses of his misfortunes; in a sense, he, arguably, seeks refuge in the gods, who are subtly invited to keep an eye on Aeschines, a man who violates the constitutional law and commits dishonest and unjust actions. This oath indicates the highest point of Demosthenes’ indignation at his political hardship, and it is likely to have been delivered in a way that would underline the emotional elevation of the whole context. Several sources emphasize the power of voice (and potentially of other delivery ploys) to strengthen emotional appeals.15 The thematic construction of the last passage, finally, is also conducive to the use of physical/​sensory patterns by the speaker: it is notable that the sentence starts and ends with references to those who, allegedly, would disapprove of any decision of the Athenians to show indulgence to Andocides  –​both the gods and the Greeks (cf. Demosthenes 8.34).16 These two important argumentative references would have been highlighted, vocally and by gesticulation (e.g. raising the right hand to the heavens), to strengthen the message Lysias wants to convey to his fellows in Athens: that they should not absolve the guilty man. References and invocations to the gods, of the sort of the formulaic phrases formed by νὴ and μά, fall into three main categories: a. Simple vocative:  Antiphon 6.40:  ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ θεοὶ πάντες; Demosthenes 6.37; 18.285:  ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ θεοί; 18.294:  ὦ γῆ καὶ θεοί. The orators also invoke supernatural entities, such as natural powers and, most strikingly, even abstract and inanimate notions. A  good example can be found in Aeschines 3.260: ὦ γῆ καὶ ἥλιε καὶ ἀρετὴ καὶ σύνεσις καὶ παιδεία “Earth and Sun and Virtue and Conscience and Education”. Ancient sources provide information about the vocalization of this particular invocation of Aeschines: Demosthenes claims, in 18.127, that Aeschines uses a loud voice (βοῶντα), as if he was on the tragic stage (ὥσπερ ἐν τραγῳδίᾳ). Other instances of the practice of swearing to natural powers can be found in Demosthenes’ speeches: 18.324; 22.78; 34.29; 39.21; 40.5 and 45.73;

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  89 b. Prepositional phrases: Aeschines 2.102: πρὸς τῶν θεῶν; 3.61; Dinarchus 1.68; 3.1; Demosthenes 3.17; 8.32; 8.34:  πρὸς Διός; 15.26; Lysias 13.95: πρὸς θεῶν Ὀλυμπίων; c. Oaths inserted with particles such as νὴ and μά: Aeschines 1.28, 55, 61, 69, 70, 76, 79, 81, 87, 98, 108, 116; 2.130; Dinarchus 3.15; Isaeus 6.61: νὴ Δία καὶ τὸν Ἀπόλλω, a verbatim repetition of which can be found in Demosthenes 9.65; Lysias 6.7, 32; Demosthenes 8.51; 9.54; 10.7: μὰ τὸν Δία καὶ πάντας θεοὺς, 10.20; 18.13, 111, 324: νὴ τὸν Ἡρακλέα καὶ πάντας θεούς; 41.20; 42.6.17 These formulaic phrases can be exploited in terms of delivery with the aim of inviting the audience to realize the heightened, dramatic moment in which they need to cast their vote, deciding upon matters of legal and/​or political significance. It is highly likely, for example, that not only the voice of the speaker would be elevated, but also that the references to the specific gods mentioned in the previous paragraphs (e.g. Zeus and Apollo) and divinized forces (e.g. Earth) would be accompanied and strengthened by the use of hand gestures –​i.e. the right hand, possibly in upward movement, when referring to the Olympian gods, and the left hand, possibly in a downward movement, when referring to chthonian powers. As I argued in my book, Attic Oratory and Performance, “like oaths and other invocations to the gods, curses invite, even demand, a solemn tone (e.g. Aeschines 3.110–​111, 121). The speaker quotes these curses, since anything read by the clerk is preceded by a formulaic request to him. The possibility that Aeschines had recited curses by raising the volume of his voice and stretching out, at least, one of his hands cannot be ruled out. In context, vocal variations are also indicated by the dense repetition of the particle μηδ(έ) in a two-​lined clause in the second and third excerpt, and by the use of direct speech”.18 When shifting from narrative to direct speech and vice versa, the speaker would modify, at the very least, the volume and pitch of their voice in order to indicate the transition. I also argue that “ritualistic cries attributed to Aeschines point to special delivery techniques. In 18, Demosthenes says that Aeschines’ mother called her son to take part in ecstatic rites, most probably of Dionysus/​Bacchus and Sabazius, during which he recited a dictum. This dictum is cited in direct speech: καὶ ἀνιστὰς ἀπὸ τοῦ καθαρμοῦ  κελεύων λέγειν ‘ἔφυγον κακόν, εὗρον ἄμεινον,’ ἐπὶ τῷ μηδένα πώποτε τηλικοῦτ’ ὀλολύξαι σεμνυνόμενος (καὶ ἔγωγε νομίζω· μὴ γὰρ οἴεσθ’ αὐτὸν φθέγγεσθαι μὲν οὕτω μέγα, ὀλολύζειν δ’ οὐχ ὑπέρλαμπρον). You raised them up after purification and bade them utter, “affliction removed, condition improved”, proud of yourself because no one ever

90  Reacting to the “airy nothing” shrieked so loud. (I quite agree. Do not believe that one who talks so loud does not also shriek piercingly). (Demosthenes 18.259) There is evidence that the prayer-​like shrill cry, called ὀλολυγμὸς or ὀλολυγή, was uttered almost exclusively by women”.19 The fact that such a cry is attributed to Aeschines may indicate Demosthenes’ purpose to ridicule his opponent as being an effeminate and laughable unmanly “male”. The force of this gibe is likely to be embroidered and enhanced by teasing vocal parody, especially since the direct speech that is used here offers the opportunity for the speaker to mimic the voice of his opponent in a scornful manner in order to provoke laughter. Parodying the words or bodily movements of an opponent, with the aim of ridiculing him before the audience and undermining his personality and authority, is not unusual in Attic oratory. The repetition of the dictum, which Aeschines (allegedly) delivered loudly during those ecstatic rites, also allows us to rule out the possibility of a deadpan delivery, even if we cannot confidently define the specifics of that delivery. Another reference to ritualistic cries and shouts that are attributed to Aeschines can be found in Demosthenes 18: ἐν δὲ ταῖς ἡμέραις τοὺς καλοὺς θιάσους ἄγων διὰ τῶν ὁδῶν, τοὺς ἐστεφανωμένους τῷ μαράθῳ καὶ τῇ λεύκῃ, τοὺς ὄφεις τοὺς παρείας θλίβων καὶ ὑπὲρ τῆς κεφαλῆς αἰωρῶν, καὶ βοῶν ‘εὐοῖ σαβοῖ,’ καὶ ἐπορχούμενος ‘ὑῆς ἄττης ὑῆς’. By day you led brilliant bands of revelling worshipers through the streets. They wore crowns of fennel and white poplar as you clutched fat-​headed snakes and swung them over your head. You would shout “Euoi Saboi”, and dance to the beat of “Hyes Attes, Attes Hyes”. (Demosthenes 18.260) Here is a description of the ritualistic rhythmic shrills and movements of Aeschines during the apocryphal ecstatic rites he attended with his mother: εὐοῖ σαβοῖ is a shout associated with the worship of Bacchus, whereas ὑῆς ἄττης ὑῆς is associated with Sabazius.20 The fact that direct speech is used to accommodate the ritualistic ecstatic utterances is an important indication that the words would not have been uttered in the same tone and pace as the narrative parts of the speech, especially inasmuch as these phrases seem to be used as comic gibes, pointing to Aeschines’ manic way of behaving during apocryphal rites, and also perhaps to his theatrical exaggeration in oratorical delivery. After examining the physical –​gestural and vocal –​reaction of the speaker to the use of religious stimuli, we now turn to the examination of the ways in which the audience perceived and physically reacted to the use of religious discourse. Let us start from what we can confidently know: the audience in

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  91 the Athenian settings of public speaking and other inherently performative contexts was far from just passively watching and listening to the performers. The onlookers in the law court, the Assembly or in the theatre expressed their satisfaction or dissatisfaction with the performers, their disposition towards them, and responded (re-​ )actively, whether by praising or booing them, clapping, laughing, heckling, shouting, murmuring or by remaining silent. This interactive aspect was especially important in the Athenian law court, where the reaction of the audience was much more vociferous than in modern courts: ample evidence concerning the ancient courtroom stresses the “volubility” of the audience, which was not merely a presence but a very vocal presence.21 This reaction of the ancient audience is known as thorubos: V. Bers describes thorubos as any vocal expression (e.g. the shouts of praise or blame) directed from the judges (dicastic thorubos) or from the onlookers (coronal thorubos) towards the speaker.22 Ancient sources inform us that the speakers’ invocations to natural powers or entities, such as those that are examined above, caused the reaction of the audience; Pseudo-​Plutarch, in The Lives of the Ten Orators 845b, for example, points out that Demosthenes’ invocation to natural powers caused the tumult of the audience (thorubos) and is ridiculed by two comic poets, Antiphanes and Timocles.23 The realization that the audiences are not merely passive recipients of imposed meanings and communication, but rather (inter)active (albeit often unconscious) determinants of meaning within their personal and social contexts, is known, in modern rhetorical and cultural studies, as active audience theory. Rhetorical discourse in general, and religious discourse in particular, are polysemic: this means that they can be interpreted in a number of ways as they are viewed from individual to individual. Each reference to the gods or the divine, in other words, can be interpreted in different ways, depending on the context in which it appears and the purposes that the speaker has at specific points in his oration. To use a notion borrowed from literary theory, ancient court audiences incorporated various “interpretive communities”.24 As Martin points out, “unobtrusive references to religious institutions (for example a festival) may have high persuasive power on account of the religious associations for some dicasts, while their neighbours would only think of the celebratory aspect of the occasion”.25 The same people perceive and interpret multiple messages, as they take in information (in the law court and the contexts for symbouleutic speaking). The audience’s plurality and the consequent lack of uniformity in its reactions make it hard (if not impossible) for us to examine the physical/​ sensory (and, in the next section, the cognitive/​emotional) reactions of the totality of the members of the ancient audience. It is feasible, however, to examine two interrelated categories of reactions: first, the reactions attested by ancient sources ; and second, the reactions that were invited by the use of religious discourse. Whether those invited reactions were provoked or not, and whether they were exercised by the totality of the audience members, it is not yet feasible to determine. Reconstructing the reaction of the audience

92  Reacting to the “airy nothing” in public speaking settings is, therefore, undoubtedly a daunting task. Clues to the reaction of the judges and the onlookers are regrettably few in number and largely implicit in character. They can be inferred by pinning down the references made, or the linguistic and semantic provisions incorporated, in the oratorical script, and by combining these with information conveyed by ancient sources. Some of these intra-​textual references and provisions can be somewhat loud, as are the references to the audience’s reaction in Demosthenes 23.18–​1926 and 18.52.27 Some others are more subtle, requiring further examination of the context, the aspects and meaning of the phrasing and the indirect information collected from other sources. Elsewhere, I have argued that: The use of the imperative in ritual discourse may seem bizarre, given the widespread perception that the imperative has a strong, and perhaps offensive, tone in giving commands (in contrast with the optative that is felt to be the mood of polite expression). This perception echoes or draws on the information conveyed by Aristotle (Poetics 1456b15–​19) that Protagoras criticized Homer for starting a prayer improperly with the high-​handed tone that an imperative conveys. Despite the claim of Apollonius Dyscolus, in Syntax 3.105, that “every imperative is directed from a dominant person to a subordinate one”, it is important to note that this is not always the case. The imperative acquires more nuanced functions, depending on the context in which it occurs. Apollonius Dyscolus fails to mention that the imperative may occur in ritual contexts, directed by humans to divinities. (Serafim (2020) 000) W. F. Bakker is right to note that imperative in prayers –​more generally in ritual discourse –​is not as high-​handed and offensive as Homer allegedly thought, or as anyone else may (reasonably) assume. “A man making a supplication or wish is inclined [through imperatives] to leave the decision as to whether the actions asked for are going to take place or not to the person he is addressing”.28 Imperatives in religious (or ritual) discourse within Attic oratory, therefore, articulate the transference of the intention, the will or the wish of the speaker into action with the agency of the audience.29 The use of a distinct verb when inserting prayers to the gods, εὔχομαι, may be indicative of the aim of the speaker to incite a specific kind of ritualistic reaction from the audience. The same verb indicating prayers, εὔχομαι, is used in Demosthenes 14. The verb seems to be –​there is some ambiguity in context –​in a present imperative form: ἀλλ᾽ ὅτι, εἰ μὲν μὴ τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ὁμοίως αἰσχρὸν ἦν τὸ ψεύδεσθαι καὶ ἐπιορκεῖν ὥσπερ ἐκείνῳ καλόν, πάλαι ἂν ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸν ὑμεῖς ἐπορεύεσθε, νῦν δὲ τοῦτο μὲν οὐκ ἂν ποιήσαιτε ὑμῶν ἕνεκ᾽ αὐτῶν, εὔχεσθε δὲ πᾶσι τοῖς

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  93 θεοῖς τὴν αὐτὴν λαβεῖν παράνοιαν ἐκεῖνον ἥνπερ ποτὲ τοὺς προγόνους αὐτοῦ. καὶ ταῦτ᾽ ἂν ἐπίῃ σκοπεῖν αὐτῷ, οὐκ ὀλιγώρως ὑμᾶς βουλευομένους εὑρήσει. But that if falsehood and perjury were not as disgraceful in the eyes of the Greeks as they are respectable in his, you would long ago have marched against him; that as it is, you will not for your own sakes do this, but you should pray to all the gods that he may be smitten with the same infatuation as were his ancestors of old. And if it comes into his mind to reflect on this; he will find that your resolutions are not carelessly taken. (Demosthenes 14.39) If εὔχεσθε is in imperative form –​in this context, the imperative seems to me better to suit the meaning of the passage  –​then it is feasible to argue that the speaker exploits that language register to ask the audience to commit the ritual-​like action of praying to the gods. The present imperative indicates the proximity of the speaker to his addressee in terms of time: The present tense relates to the moment of the speech, and it can be classified as “proximate”, as opposed to the past tense, which is “distal” in that it involves events that are not contemporaneous with the moment of the speech. (Nesset (2008) 100) Following this proximate approach, and bearing in mind that the present imperative, in the context of Demosthenes 14.39, expresses a present temporal reference at the semantic level, one can argue that the speaker utters the ritual-​like imperative in the expectation that the audience will immediately and decisively carry out his order in the here and now of the trial. The reaction of the audience is also indicated –​though implicitly –​by the fact that oaths and prayers denote intense emotions on the part of the speaker. As  Bers puts it, “they are instruments of verbal aggression or expressions of strong emotion that issue naturally from a man under duress expressing himself without regard to the circumstances in which he is speaking”.30 If we assume that these intense emotions affect the delivery of the speaker, then it may also be possible to suppose that they affect the behaviour of the audience in court, and that they lead to physical reactions. For, as Aristotle points out, “the hearer always shares the emotion of the man who speaks emotionally, even if he says nothing true” (Rhetoric 1408a23–​5). The intense emotions of the speaker might then be expected to affect the mind, the voice and the body of the audience. Another passage that indicates the potential of the language register  –​ infinitive, in this case –​to provoke a certain physical reaction from the audience is the following:

94  Reacting to the “airy nothing” ἄξιον δέ ἐστιν ἐνθυμηθῆναι ὅτι πολὺ μᾶλλον ὑμῖν προσήκει τῶν ὑμετέρων ἐμοὶ διδόναι ἢ τῶν ἐμῶν ἐμοὶ ἀμφισβητῆσαι, καὶ πένητα γενόμενον ἐλεῆσαι μᾶλλον ἢ πλουτοῦντι φθονῆσαι, καὶ τοῖς θεοῖς εὔχεσθαι τοὺς ἄλλους εἶναι τοιούτους πολίτας, ἵνα τῶν μὲν ὑμετέρων μὴ ἐπιθυμήσωσι, τὰ δὲ σφέτερα αὐτῶν εἰς ὑμᾶς ἀναλίσκωσιν. You ought also to consider that it is far more fitting for you to give me of what is yours than to dispute my claim to what is mine, and to pity me if I am impoverished than to envy me my wealth: you should pray Heaven that the others may be as good citizens, so that, instead of coveting your money, they may spend their own on you. (Lysias, Defence against a Charge of Taking Bribes 15) In context, Lysias’ choice to use the present infinitive εὔχεσθαι does not seem to be thoughtless or random. It serves a further and deeper rhetorical purpose:  the infinitive that works as the subject of an impersonal verbal construction (here ἄξιον δέ ἐστιν), denoting desire, will or ability, is called dynamic. The present dynamic infinitive has, as A. Rijksbaron argues, the same semantic, linguistic and aspectual features and qualities as present imperatives.31 “The infinitive is sometimes used in the sense of the second person of the imperative”, W. W. Goodwin argues.32 The present infinitive is used by Lysias to command the audience to proceed with a state of affairs that is not yet being carried out: the speaker may have asked the audience, consisting of both the judges and the onlookers, to pray to the gods, perhaps by using the necessary hand gestures of a prayer, in the here and now of the trial. Given that present infinitives have the same functions as present imperatives, it can also be argued that εὔχεσθαι in the context of Lysias’ speech may denote the proximity of the speaker to his addressee in terms of time, while underlining his urgent and decisive demand that the audience carry out his request immediately. This first section of Chapter 3 has examined oratorical texts with the aim of reconstructing an image of the physical/​sensory reactions of the speaker and those of the audience  –​what is known in rhetorical theory as thorubos. Specific features of religious discourse, which are strengthened by the immediate context in which they occur and the use of language, rhetorical stratagems and other semantics, enable us to identify and discuss the invited or potential reaction of the speaker and the audience during public speaking. It is evident from the preceding discussion that there are inevitable limitations and a fair amount of speculation involved in the enterprise of revisiting the oratorical script to reconstruct the moment of the actual public speaking (re) action. This exacerbates the already existing problem of the relative paucity of ancient rhetorical or non-​rhetorical sources. There are still strong grounds, however, for arguing that examples of religious discourse, seen in context, elicit the physical reactions of the speaker and the audience, as well as their

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  95 cognitive/​ emotional reactions, which will be thoroughly examined in the second section of this chapter.

Cognitive dispositions and emotional reactions Emotion and cognition, two sides of the same coin, play a fundamental role in religion: all thinking has an emotional component, and emotions have an indelible cognitive dimension. P. Tillich writes about the emphasis placed by scholars on religion as “feeling”: The word “feeling” has induced many people to believe that faith is a matter of merely subjective emotions, without a content to be known and a demand to be obeyed. This interpretation of faith was readily accepted by representatives of science and ethics because they took it as the best way to get rid of interference from the side of religion in the process of scientific research and technical organization. (Tillich (1957) 39)33 Emotions, especially with regard to religion, were viewed, therefore, as inherently irrational and involuntary, and as a challenge to rational thought, which needed to be subdued and controlled. R. Solomon, in contrast, argues that the emotions (of religion) are not mere subjective feelings, but that they contain cognitive content which takes the form of evaluative judgments.34 In the wake of Solomon’s work, cognitivism has become the dominant theory in the philosophy of emotion, emphasizing the recognition that emotions often possess intentionality.35 “Neurological studies have revealed the close integration between emotional areas of the brain such as the amygdala and the areas for high order thought in the prefrontal cortex”.36 And vice versa, scientific thinking is emotional.37 Remarkably, however, more needs to be said to shed further light on the relationship between religion, cognition and emotions.38 This chapter aims only to explore the manifestations, patterns and features of this three-​cornered relationship in Attic oratorical public speaking. Before proceeding to the examination of a selection of passages in Attic speeches, we need to consider the reasons for religion’s potential to create dispositions in (ancient) audiences and to generate reactions from them. Religious belief has genetic and neural foundations in humans. Religious belief and behaviour are thought to be complicated brain-​based phenomena that may have emerged with processes for social cognition, and which engage fundamental cognitive mechanisms, such as memory, thoughts, intuitions, intentions and emotions. D. Kapogiannis, an eminent American neuroscientist at the US National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke in Bethesda, Maryland, conducted functional magnetic resonance imaging brain scans (fMRI) on 40 religious volunteers as they responded to statements reflecting three core elements of belief. For each one of these three statements,

96  Reacting to the “airy nothing” the volunteers, who were believers in Christianity, Islam and Judaism, had to indicate on a scale how much they agreed or disagreed. This research shows that religious thoughts activate the area of the brain involved in deciphering other people’s emotions and intentions. In this study, Kapogiannis and his colleagues found that when they heard phrases such as “God’s will guides my acts” and “God protects one’s life”, areas of the brain lit up.39 In another 2009 study, a Danish team saw the same brain areas activated when religious participants prayed.40 These results suggest that the brain has the provisions required for someone to acquire a sense of religion. “Airy nothing” has a genetic local habitation in the minds of people. Religion, in other words, is based on the cognitive and emotional faculties of humans, who long for the reassurance and solace that a supernatural entity can provide. It has, therefore, the distinct power to alleviate the pains of life and to disperse fear and other emotional extremes, which are stirred up when life gets tough. It has the potential to encourage people that they can overcome difficulties because a supreme being (the god or any other divine agent) is by their side. This is also the way religion is presented in Attic oratory, with the divine being presented as presiding over human affairs (cf. Aeschines 1.94), protecting or favouring individuals (cf. Demosthenes 18.127), larger civic communities (cf. Demosthenes’ Olynthiac 1.10; 2.1, 22 and Philippic 1.12, 37, 45; 4.24, 31; Dinarchus 3.19), the laws or the constitution and, more broadly, the polis (cf. Aeschines 3.196; Demosthenes 1.8, 12, 45; 2.1, 12, 22; 4.45; 19.256, 280). Religious discourse is also used in Attic oratory as a means of inciting anxieties, when referring, for example, to the good τύχη of the enemies of the Athenians (cf. Philip, as in Demosthenes 4.42; 12.15) or the ill fate of civic communities that the gods abhor (cf. On the Liberty of the Rhodians 2 where Demosthenes attributes Rhodes’ loss of independence to the gods, Plataicus 28 where Isocrates talks about the god-​doomed Thebans and Panegyricus 156 where the speaker says that the Ionians enraged the gods against them). These mental and emotional dispositions that religious discourse creates in target audiences influence the disposition of individuals or groups of individuals towards the polis. As argued earlier in this book (see p. 37), no society would work without a set of moral or ethical rules (beyond the secular socio-​ political norms and legal statutes) that set a framework to limit the actions or the behaviour of people towards others, and that help to thwart injustices, crimes and sacrileges, contributing, therefore, to a social, legal and moral harmonizing of the whole community. In Isocrates’ words, “those who in the beginning inspired in us our fear of the gods, brought it about that we in our relations to one another are not altogether like wild beasts” (11.25: καὶ γὰρ τὴν ἀρχὴν οἱ τὸν φόβον ἡμῖν ἐνεργασάμενοι τοῦτον αἴτιοι γεγόνασι τοῦ μὴ παντάπασι θηριωδῶς διακεῖσθαι πρὸς ἀλλήλους). Fearing the gods is a workable incentive to ethical behaviour, since it assumes that the inspection is constant and persistent, and that the resulted sanctions are eternal. This is the reason why Attic orators pay emphatic attention in their speeches to arguments or other

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  97 rhetorical enterprises which aim to elicit the fear of the gods in the audience by means of referring to divine punishing or avenging agents that would demand payment for impiety, sacrilege, crime or any other form of (religiously or legally) indecent behaviour.41 Antiphon, for example, notes that: As the defendant has been cleared so completely of the charges made, we lay upon you in his name a more righteous behest than did our opponents:  in seeking to punish the murderer, do not put him who is blameless to death. If you do, the slayer no less than the slain will bring the wrath of heaven upon the guilty. (4.4.10) Lysias, similarly, refers to Demeter and Persephone as being two goddesses who take vengeance upon the wrongdoers (6.3). Several indicators incorporated in the transmitted oratorical scripts point to the cognitive/​emotional dispositions that religious discourse is expected or designed to create in the minds of the audience, and the emotions it may also attempt to trigger. L. Rubinstein is right to argue that there are two ways of using the rhetoric of emotions in Attic oratory, a direct/​explicit way and an indirect/​inexplicit one.42 That is to say, in addition to the open and forcible reference to emotions (as, for example, in Aeschines 3.228: ἀγανακτῶ μάλιστα “I am enraged the most”,43 and in Demosthenes 19.223: μισῶ τούτους “I hate these men”), there are indirect ways of expressing emotions. An example of language that has an indirect, but no less forcible, potential to stir up emotion can be found in the sentence “my grandfather fell asleep and never woke up again”. This sentence conveys discreetly, but still intelligibly, the news about the death of an individual, thus triggering in the hearers all sorts of detrimental emotions that are caused by the news of losing a member of their family. Religious discourse, and its linguistic or semantic intra-​textual indicators, may also point to explicit (e.g. when referring to opponents as being enemies of the gods) or implicit (e.g. when using the language of prayer to denote that a divine audience inspects the human-​physical audience in a decision-​making forum) ways of creating cognitive dispositions in the mind of the members of the audience, and triggering their emotional reactions. Thoughts about what the gods want, or what the ancestors know, can induce strong feelings of fear, guilt and anger on the one hand, but also reassurance or comfort on the other. Since Aristotle, encouraging particular cognitive dispositions and appealing to emotions have been recognized as two of the most effective links that the speaker can create with the audience. The messages sent by public speakers to their audiences, in both ancient and contemporary contexts of public speaking, are more successful when framed with emotional overtones that have the potential to affect –​i.e. solidify or alter –​the emotional state, reasoning and actions of the receivers. The association between emotions and persuasion is established in ancient rhetorical theory. Demosthenes points

98  Reacting to the “airy nothing” out, for example, that the decisions of the judges are affected by feelings such as pity, envy and anger (19.228; cf. Antiphon 5.72 where a reference can be found to anger that affects the people’s judgements).44 As Aristotle points out in Rhetoric 1356a14–​16, “[there is persuasion] through the hearers when they are led to feel emotions by the speech; for we do not give the same judgment when grieved and rejoicing or when being friendly and hostile”; in the same vein, “the emotions are all those affections which cause men to change their opinion in regard to their judgments” (1378a19–​20). This second part of this chapter explores the ways in which the linguistic and semantic features of religious discourse, which are deployed in the speeches of the Ten Attic Orators, aim to affect the minds of the audience and stir up emotions, and how these dispositions and emotions create a link, or, better, an emotional bond, between the speaker and the audience, enabling the first to affect the rational and emotional behaviour and attitudes of the second. One technique that serves to affect the minds of the people and provoke strong emotional reactions, such as apprehension, is the reference to the audience –​judges (wherever present, e.g. in the law court) and onlookers –​being scrutinized by the gods. Demosthenes says clearly in 19.239–​240 that “though the vote is secret, it will not escape the notice of the gods. The man who made the law perceived most excellently that, whereas none of these men will know which of you had done him a favour, the divine power of the gods will know who did not vote for a just verdict”. Lycurgus 1.146, similarly, points out: “do not forget, gentlemen, that each of you now, though giving his vote in secret, will openly proclaim his attitude to the gods”, while Isocrates, in 1.16, openly and indiscreetly asks the audience to “fear the gods” (τοὺς θεοὺς φοβοῦ), in a context where he warns the audience that there is no chance they would be able to hide a shameful act they committed (cf. Aeschines 1.50, where the speaker says that Misgolas would speak the truth if he fears the gods). Let us start with the invocation to “Earth and Sun, and Virtue and Conscience and Education” that we discussed in the previous section with regard to the physical/​sensory (re)action of the speaker, Aeschines, and the audience (Aeschines 3.260: ὦ γῆ καὶ ἥλιε καὶ ἀρετὴ καὶ σύνεσις καὶ παιδεία). This is not the only reference to Earth in Attic oratory:  one can find the invocation formula “Earth and the gods” in Demosthenes 22.78 (in a context where the speaker refers to the impiety of Androtion); 23.61 (in a context where the speaker talks about his right to legally fight against usurper of his property); 34.29 (in a context where the speaker talks about the guilt of Phormio); 40.5 (in a context where the audience is instructed to feel angry at the speaker’s opponents, εἰκότως ἂν ὀργίζοισθε). The Sun, an important generator of life, is personified and deified and, together with Earth, they are considered “all-​seeing” divine witnesses of past events, especially wrongdoing. References to the Earth that the Athenians revere are an attempt to appeal to the audience’s emotions and to inculcate into the people the impression that their decision affects their land and, by extension, their

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  99 civic community.45 The invocations to Earth and Sun demonstrate the way Attic orators use fear to manipulate the emotional reaction of the audience, whose members are subtly invited to envisage themselves as being inspected and punishable by the divine audience, should they decide to vote in favour of Demosthenes. This invitation becomes more forcible in Demosthenes’ Against Aristogeiton: Before you cast your votes, each of the judges must reflect that he is being watched by hallowed and inexorable Justice (τὴν ἀπαραίτητον καὶ σεμνὴν Δίκην), who, as Orpheus, that prophet of our most sacred mysteries, tells us, sits beside the throne of Zeus and oversees all the works of men. Each must keep watch and ward lest he shame that goddess, from whom everyone that is chosen by lot derives his name of judge because he has this day received a sacred trust from the laws, from the constitution, from the fatherland,—​the duty of guarding all that is fair and right and beneficial in our city. (1.11) A similar purpose is also traceable in Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates and Demosthenes’ On the Crown, which have been discussed above in regard to hypocrisis. εὔχομαι γὰρ τῇ Ἀθηνᾷ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις θεοῖς καὶ τοῖς ἥρωσι τοῖς κατὰ τὴν πόλιν καὶ τὴν χώραν ἱδρυμένοις, εἰ μὲν εἰσήγγελκα Λεωκράτη δικαίως καὶ κρίνω τὸν προδόντ᾽ αὐτῶν καὶ τοὺς νεὼς καὶ τὰ ἕδη καὶ τὰ τεμένη καὶ τὰς ἐν τοῖς νόμοις τιμὰς καὶ θυσίας τὰς ὑπὸ τῶν ὑμετέρων προγόνων παραδεδομένας. So I  pray Athena and those other gods and heroes whose statues are erected in our city and the country round to receive this prayer. If I have done justly to prosecute Leocrates, if he whom I now bring to trial has been a traitor to their temples, shrines and precincts, a traitor to the honours which your laws ordain and the sacrificial rituals which your ancestors have handed down. (Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 1) πρῶτον μέν, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, τοῖς θεοῖς εὔχομαι πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις, ὅσην εὔνοιαν ἔχων ἐγὼ διατελῶ τῇ τε πόλει καὶ πᾶσιν ὑμῖν, τοσαύτην ὑπάρξαι μοι παρ’ ὑμῶν εἰς τουτονὶ τὸν ἀγῶνα. Let me begin, men of Athens, by beseeching all the Powers of Heaven that on this trial I may find in Athenian hearts such benevolence towards me as I have ever cherished for the city and the people of Athens. (Demosthenes, On the Crown 1)

100  Reacting to the “airy nothing” Despite the different purpose these passages have –​i.e. in the first, the prayer is used in order for Lycurgus to accuse Leocrates of betraying the gods and the people, whereas in the second passage the prayer is used for Demosthenes to plea for a fair hearing –​prayers in both of them seem to have the same function, which is to invite the judges to think of themselves as being inspected, and having their judgeship evaluated, by the gods. References to the gods in both contexts allow the speakers to instil fear in the judges that they would be accountable to the divine, if they decide to cast their vote favourably for the speakers’ opponents. Prayers also underline the solemnity of the law court process and the importance of the task in front of the judges, while also strengthening the public credentials of the speakers, who are presented as good citizens, who believe in and invoke the gods and whose aim is to protect the city and its ancestral religious institutions (places and rites, as mentioned in Lycurgus’ passage). It is also remarkable that Demosthenes’ On the Crown not only starts, but also ends with a reference to the gods. In the last section of the peroration, there is a vocative invocation to “all the gods”: μὴ δῆτ’, ὦ πάντες θεοί, μηδεὶς ταῦθ’ ὑμῶν ἐπινεύσειεν, ἀλλὰ μάλιστα μὲν καὶ τούτοις βελτίω τινὰ νοῦν καὶ φρένας ἐνθείητε εἰ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἔχουσιν ἀνιάτως, τούτους μὲν αὐτοὺς καθ᾽ ἑαυτοὺς ἐξώλεις καὶ προώλεις ἐν γῇ καὶ θαλάττῃ ποιήσατε, ἡμῖν δὲ τοῖς λοιποῖς τὴν ταχίστην ἀπαλλαγὴν τῶν ἐπηρτημένων φόβων δότε καὶ σωτηρίαν ἀσφαλῆ. No, all you gods, may none of you grant their wish. Best would be to inspire better thoughts and intentions even in them, but if they are indeed incurable, destroy every last one of them utterly and thoroughly on earth and sea. And grant the rest of us as soon as possible release from the fears that threaten and salvation that endures. (§324) The unspoken purpose of the prayers in the exordium of Lycurgus’ and Demosthenes’ speeches, and the use of an invocation to the gods in the peroration of the latter’s speech, aim, arguably, to invite the members of the audience, especially the judges among them, to realize that the gods are inspecting them, judging and evaluating their law court performance and the verdict they would cast at the end of the trial. The language and grammatical moods in the last section of Demosthenes’ On the Crown are worth closer examination. As I have previously argued: The optative is used when Demosthenes asks the gods not to allow Aeschines and his comrades to destroy the city (μὴ ἐπινεύσειεν) or to implant a better frame of mind in them (ἐνθείητε). When the speaker utters the second exhortation regarding the destruction of the scoundrels,

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  101 however, the imperative (ποιήσατε) is used. The change in the mood here may indicate that there is a gap between the syntactical and the semantic addressee: the syntactical addressee is the gods, whereas the semantic is the Athenians, especially the judges among them. (Serafim (2017) 60) This reference to the gods, and broadly to the divine, highlights the solemnity of the public speaking context and occasion, with the aim of affecting the mind and emotional disposition of the audience. Another good example of deploying references to the gods as a means of emphasizing the solemnity, or even the dramatic character, of the moment can be found in Aeschines 2: παρακαλῶ δὲ καὶ ἱκετεύω σῶσαί με πρῶτον μὲν τοὺς θεούς, δεύτερον δ’ ὑμᾶς τοὺς τῆς ψήφου κυρίους οἷς ἐγὼ πρὸς ἕκαστον τῶν κατηγορημένων εἰς μνήμην εἶναι τὴν ἐμὴν ἀπολελόγημαι, καὶ δέομαι σῶσαί με καὶ μὴ τῷ λογογράφῳ καὶ Σκύθῃ παραδοῦναι. First of all, I urge and implore the gods to save my life, secondly, you who have the vote in your hands, to whom I  have offered a defence against each of the charges to the best of my recollection; and I beg you to save me and not to hand me over to this speechwriter, this Scythian. (2.180) This section is noteworthy in containing two verbs of praying or invoking to the gods: παρακαλῶ and ἱκετεύω, in a context where the speaker emphatically and dramatically asks for his life to be spared. Aeschines uses two terms where he could have used only one (as the speakers do elsewhere, whenever they want to signify an arguably less dramatic moment of communication with the divine, e.g. in Demosthenes 20.25). If we bear in mind that ancient rhetorical theory considers repetition as a figure of speech that is used to emphasize specific events, persons and situations (e.g. Aristotle’s Rhetoric 1413b30–​1414a6 and Demetrius’ On style 61),46 then we can confidently argue that the repetition, in Aeschines 2.180, of the verbs of invoking the gods also serves to highlight the significance and the urgency of the speaker’s request, and create a sense of responsibility, or fear and apprehension, in the judges by urging them to think that they have to report directly to the divine evaluators. This attempt is more forcible in Antiphon 1: καίτοι πότερον δικαιότερον τὸν ἐκ προνοίας ἀποκτείναντα δοῦναι δίκην ἢ μή; καὶ πότερον δεῖ οἰκτεῖραι μᾶλλον τὸν τεθνεῶτα ἢ τὴν ἀποκτείνασαν; ἐγὼ μὲν οἶμαι τὸν τεθνεῶτα: καὶ γὰρ δικαιότερον καὶ ὁσιώτερον καὶ πρὸς θεῶν καὶ πρὸς ἀνθρώπων γίγνοιτο ὑμῖν.

102  Reacting to the “airy nothing” Yet which is the more just: that a willful murderer should be punished, or that he should not? Which has a better claim to pity, the murdered man or the murderess? To my mind, the murdered man: because in pitying him you would be acting more justly and more righteously in the eyes of gods and men. (1.25) The decision that the judges will make about the stepmother, the speaker says, will be inspected by the gods. The speaker attempts to instil fear in the judges, who are invited to think that they themselves would be considered responsible by the gods, if they fall short of the divine expectations, i.e. if they fail to cast a righteous and fair verdict. For, as argued in Chapter 1, the gods expect the judges to make reparations for the injustice committed by other people, in order to appease them, elicit their eunoia (“goodwill”) and prevent them from imposing a punishment.47 The gods never forget human injustices, sacrileges, vices or any other aspects of indecent behaviour: In allowing yourselves to be influenced by this man, what gods you can expect to be gratifying? For do not suppose, gentlemen of the jury, that, if you wish to forget the things that he has done, the gods will forget them also. (Lysias 6.33) In other words, the decisions made about matters of legal, political and religious dimensions should (seem to) be god-​oriented (cf. Antiphon 3.2.11: “do not bring a miserable fate upon us by condemning us: but show that you are pious by acquitting us”; 3.3.12: “so satisfy the claims of heaven and the laws by taking him and punishing him”; 6.3: “nevertheless, it is also, I think, of great importance to you who are my judges that you should reach a correct verdict in trials for murder, first and foremost because of the gods and your duty towards them, and secondly for your own sakes”). The link that the speaker strives to make between the cognitive/​emotional dispositions of the judges, and their upcoming decision is important, since their verdict is affected by their thoughts and emotions. In principle, any religious-​oriented references are used as a means of adding emphasis to the solemn momentum in court, the Boulē, the Assembly or any other forum of public speaking, inviting the audience to realize the importance of the legal or political matters that are being discussed and for which they would cast their vote. Attic oratory is replete with references to the judges in the law court and the Boulē being invited by the speakers to cast their votes in ways that indicate their respect for the laws and oaths that they have sworn. As Aeschines quite eloquently puts it: The oath that he [the individual member of the dicastic panel] has sworn before taking his seat haunts him and troubles him, for it was his oath,

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  103 I think, that made his act a sin; and his service is unknown to the man whom he was trying to please, for the vote is cast in secret. (Aeschines 3.233)48 Fear in the audience, and a decisive moulding of its mental condition in ways that favour the strategy and the purposes of the speaker, is also triggered by the use of medical imagery and terminology of disease in passages where religious discourse also appears, as in Demosthenes 19.259 and 262, which are cited in order below. This intersecting use of medical terms and religious discourse is also attested in other speeches of Attic oratory (cf. Aeschines 3.156 with a reference to “incurable and irreparable disasters”, τῶν ἀνιάτων καὶ ἀνηκέστων κακῶν; Demosthenes 18.324; these are two passages that are discussed elsewhere in this chapter).49 νόσημα γάρ, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, δεινὸν ἐμπέπτωκεν εἰς τὴν Ἑλλάδα, καὶ χαλεπὸν καὶ πολλῆς τινὸς εὐτυχίας καὶ παρ’ ὑμῶν ἐπιμελείας δεόμενον. For a terrible disease, men of Athens, has fallen upon Greece, a serious one needing some very good luck and care on your part. (Demosthenes 19.259) ταῦτα νὴ τὴν Δήμητρα, εἰ δεῖ μὴ ληρεῖν, εὐλαβείας οὐ μικρᾶς δεῖται, ὡς βαδίζον γε κύκλῳ καὶ δεῦρ᾽ ἐλήλυθεν, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, τὸ νόσημα τοῦτο. ἕως οὖν ἔτ᾽ ἐν ἀσφαλεῖ, φυλάξασθε καὶ τοὺς πρώτους εἰσαγαγόντας ἀτιμώσατε: εἰ δὲ μή, σκοπεῖθ᾽ ὅπως μὴ τηνικαῦτ᾽ εὖ λέγεσθαι δόξει τὰ νῦν εἰρημένα, ὅτ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ὅ τι χρὴ ποιεῖν ἕξετε. By Demeter, if I  am to speak as a sane man, we stand in need of the utmost vigilance, when this infection, moving in its circuit, has invaded our own city. Therefore take your precautions now, while we are still secure. Let the men who have brought it here be punished with infamy. If not, beware lest you discern the wisdom of my words too late, when you have lost the power of doing what you ought. (Demosthenes 19.262) Medical language aims to capitalize on Athenian popular perceptions and anxieties about infectious diseases, which, as R. Mitchell-​Boyask argues after investigating medical terminology of diseases in the extant Greek tragic plays, were particularly pronounced at specific historical moments, such as 430, 420, 411 BC. Fear is one of the emotions that help create an adverse disposition among the judges and the onlookers towards Aeschines, who is presented as a pernicious, infectious and dangerous agent.50 For Aristotle, fear is: A painful or troubled feeling caused by the impression of an imminent evil that causes destruction or pain. For men do not fear all evils, for

104  Reacting to the “airy nothing” instance, becoming unjust or slow-​witted, but only such as involve great pain or destruction, and only if they appear to be not far off but near at hand and threatening; for men do not fear things that are very remote. (Rhetoric 1382a) The suggested interconnection between religious discourse  –​subtle as it is in Demosthenes 19.259  –​and the use of medical imagery and language makes the passage remarkable for the purposes of this study. The salvation of Athens and the whole of Greece from the terrible disease that Aeschines represents would be the result of a synergetic action: the Athenians are invited to think that both the divinized agent of good luck (εὐ-​τυχία>τύχη) and they themselves should do their best to tackle Aeschines. This argument is in line with the perception that humans are not the stooge of the gods or other supernatural, divinized, entities and agents. Prosperity is the result of the synergy between divine will and human effort (cf. Isocrates, Against Callimachus 32).51 Divinized agents are important in establishing the framework within which human lives exist, although humans can still make decisions and take responsibility for them. The Athenian audience would have been used to understanding ideas about τύχη working within this more nuanced context. Seen in this light, Demosthenes is attempting to remind the judges of their civic duties towards Athens, and intimidate them by mentioning the imminent threat to the safety and prosperity of their civic community, urging them not to inaction, but to action that will further be supported and strengthened by τύχη. A long-​standing area of psychological research into attitude change has focused on the role played by a specific emotion in persuasion: the study of appeals to fear.52 Increased fear can be associated with decisive actions designed to remedy the fear-​inducing threat. In 19.259, Demosthenes follows this strategy: by stirring up fear, he aims to manipulate the decisions that the civic audience, i.e. the Athenians, will make, and dictate the actions of that civic group. Emotionally charged utterances that include references to divine powers can also be found in contexts where the emotional tenor of the speech is heightened by other linguistic and semantic features of the script. Good examples can be found in Demosthenes 18.119–​120 and 25.63: [1]‌ οὐκοῦν ἃ μὲν ἐπέδωκα, ταῦτ’ ἐστὶν ὧν οὐδὲν σὺ γέγραψαι· ἃ δέ φησιν ἡ βουλὴ δεῖν ἀντὶ τούτων γενέσθαι μοι, ταῦτ’ ἔσθ’ ἃ διώκεις. τὸ λαβεῖν οὖν τὰ διδόμεν’ ὁμολογῶν ἔννομον εἶναι, τὸ χάριν τούτων ἀποδοῦναι παρανόμων γράφει. ὁ δὲ παμπόνηρος ἄνθρωπος καὶ θεοῖς ἐχθρὸς καὶ βάσκανος ὄντως ποῖός τις ἂν εἴη πρὸς θεῶν; οὐχ ὁ τοιοῦτος; My private donations are precisely what you did not indict, Aeschines, while that which the Council decrees I am to get in return is precisely what you are prosecuting. So you concede that it is legal to accept the gifts, but you indict as illegal the expression of gratitude for them. What kind of

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  105 person perfectly exemplifies an unscrupulous, loathsome, and truly malicious human being, by the gods? Is it not his kind? (18.119) [2]‌ ἀλλὰ πρὸς θεῶν οὕτω σκαιὸς εἶ καὶ ἀναίσθητος, Αἰσχίνη, ὥστ’ οὐ δύνασαι λογίσασθαι ὅτι τῷ μὲν στεφανουμένῳ τὸν αὐτὸν ἔχει ζῆλον ὁ στέφανος, ὅπου ἂν ἀναρρηθῇ, τοῦ δὲ τῶν στεφανούντων εἵνεκα συμφέροντος ἐν τῷ θεάτρῳ γίγνεται τὸ κήρυγμα; Yet, by the gods, Aeschines, are you so stupid and obtuse as to be unable to comprehend that the crown brings the recipient the same admiration wherever it is announced, but it is proclaimed in the theatre because that is to the advantage of those who bestow it? (18.120) [3]‌ εἶτ᾽ οὐκ αἰσχύνεσθ᾽, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, εἰ οἱ μὲν ἐπὶ πονηρίᾳ καὶ τοῖς ἐσχάτοις ἐμπεπτωκότες εἰς τὸ οἴκημα τοσούτῳ τοῦτον ἡγήσανθ᾽ ἑαυτῶν εἶναι πονηρότερον ὥστ᾽ ἄμεικτον ἑαυτοῖς καταστῆσαι, ὑμεῖς δ᾽ ἐξεληλακότων τῶν νόμων αὐτὸν ἐκ τῆς πολιτείας εἰς ὑμᾶς αὐτοὺς καταμείξετε; τί τῶν πεπρ αγμένων ἢ βεβιωμένων ἐπαινέσαντες; ἢ τί τῶν πάντων οὐχὶ δυσχεράναντες; οὐκ ἀσεβής; οὐκ ὠμός; οὐκ ἀκάθαρτος; οὐ συκοφάντης; Are you not ashamed then, men of Athens, if the men who had been thrown into prison for villainy and vice thought him so much more villainous than themselves that they forbade all intercourse with him, while you are ready to admit him to intercourse with yourselves, though the laws have placed him outside the pale of the constitution? What did you find to commend in his life or conduct? Which of all his actions has failed to move your indignation? Is he not impious, blood-​thirsty, unclean, and a blackmailer? (25.63) In the first two passages, Demosthenes refers scathingly to his adversary, while also using the phrase πρὸς θεῶν in both of them. In 18.119 abusive terms and accusations against Aeschines (παμπόνηρος, θεοῖς ἐχθρός, βάσκανος) end climactically with an invocation to the gods. In 18.120 abusive terms (σκαιός, ἀναίσθητος) are introduced by the πρὸς θεῶν invocation. In 25.63 the abusive epithets trotted out against Aristogeiton (ὠμός, ἀκάθαρτος, συκοφάντης) were introduced by the accusation of him being impious (ἀσεβής). Religious discourse is here situated in contexts where the emotional tenor is accentuated by the use of strong language of criticism and abuse. Modern psychological studies have shown that the use of the language of abuse is an effective way of conveying that one feels very strongly about an individual or a situation, or of evoking negative feelings in someone else. “Epithets are offensive emotional outbursts of single words or phrases used to express the

106  Reacting to the “airy nothing” speaker’s frustration, anger or surprise”.53 The context reinforces religious discourse in ways that can affect the mind and the emotions of the audience: a negative disposition in the judges and the onlookers would, almost certainly, have been created, while aggressive emotions  –​anger and/​or indignation against the impious scoundrel –​would also have been provoked. References to impiety are often used in Attic speeches as a means of invoking anger and indignation in the audience towards impious individuals; the example of Lysias 6.17 is telling.54 Demosthenes’ approach is more cunning than Lysias’, however: for, he tries, in a sense, to associate impiety with the negative cognitive and emotional dispositions that a series of other tough accusations (would have) created in the audience. The accusation against Aristogeiton of being a sycophant, for example, serves this purpose. As I have argued elsewhere, Unlike the modern English word sycophant, which carries the sense of a flatterer, this notion means malignant accuser in ancient Greek. References to sycophancy aim to exploit the negative emotional attitudes of people, especially their fear, insecurity and prejudices. There is evidence for the enmity felt by Athenians towards sycophants. Aristotle, for example, notes that calumny is productive of hatred and anger (Rhetoric 1382a2–​3; Aristophanes’ Acharnians 725–​726, 517–​519). (Serafim (2017) 66)55 The accusation against Aristogeiton of being unclean, and the subsequent idea that an individual may bring disaster on his city through pollution, is firmly based on Greek popular perceptions and real anxieties, and is used elsewhere in oratory as a means of disposing the audience to take a hostile stance against the speaker’s adversary that leads to disgrace and infamy (cf. Antiphon 1.58). Pollution was analogous to a contagious disease, like a typhoid germ, which was spread mainly by close contact with the affected persons (cf. Antiphon 2.1.10; 3.1.2; 5.82), and calls for ritual purification (katharsis).56 Thus, religious discourse is not only associated with the accusation of Aristogeiton being unclean, but it is also implicitly proposed  –​ through a subtle innuendo to ritualistic practices –​for the solution that people and the polis sorely needed. References to opponents as being inimical towards the gods can also be found in parts of the oratorical script where heightened emotional language is used. Demosthenes offers information about the cognitive/​emotional reaction of the audience: μισῶ δὲ τούτους ὅτι μοχθηροὺς καὶ θεοῖς ἐχθροὺς εἶδον ἐν τῇ πρεσβείᾳ, καὶ ἀ πεστέρημαι καὶ τῶν ἰδίων φιλοτιμιῶν διὰ τὴν τούτων δωροδοκίαν πρὸς ὅλην δυσχερῶς ὑμῶν τὴν πρεσβείαν ἐσχηκότων. I hate these men [Aeschines and his accomplices] because throughout the embassy I saw they were wicked and enemies of the gods, and their

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  107 corruption has deprived me of my own honours too because of your dissatisfaction with the whole embassy. (19.223) The start of the clause with a strong and explicit first person emotive verb underlines the emotionally heightened disposition of the speaker and invites the audience to share the same feelings of personal injury that are caused not only by the actions of Aeschines and his fellows during the embassy to Philip, but also by their wickedness and the hatred and hostility they showed towards the gods (θεοῖς ἐχθρούς). A  similar strategy with the speaker trying to provoke the audience’s feelings of injury because of the actions of the opponent can be found in [Demosthenic] 58.66: “we, thanks to this god-​detested fellow, have been deprived of our citizenship in that state” (ἡμεῖς διὰ τοῦτον τὸν θεοῖς ἐχθρὸν ἀπεστερήμεθα ταύτης τῆς πόλεως). It is notable that the language in [Demosthenes] 58.66 is close to that used in 19.223; but the fact that no clear verb of emotion is used in the first part of the clause in 58.66 indicates that the use of the verb μισῶ in 19.223 is not simply a matter of convention or a careless or unimportant choice, as one may possibly think. The wording in 19.223 seeks to lead to the arousal of the audience’s emotions, or, at least, to invite people in court to feel strongly towards the enemies of the gods. Demosthenes undermines Aeschines, associating his immorality with the hostility he shows against the gods (cf. Lycurgus 1.93, 97 where the judges are invited to punish whoever deprives the gods of their traditional cults; Lysias 31.31).57 By putting this invective against Aeschines in the context where his animosity towards the gods is also underlined, Demosthenes seeks to invite the audience to turn more readily, cognitively/​emotionally and by voting, against his opponent.58 Two distinct attempts by speakers to put their emotions in the context of religious discourse, and then more readily transfer them to the audience, are in Aeschines 3.156 and Demosthenes 21.73. What marks these two passages out in the corpus of speeches that belong to Aeschines and Demosthenes is the use of imperatives in contexts where religious discourse is used, a combination that is rarely attested elsewhere in Attic oratory (cf. Isocrates 1.16; Demosthenes 18.324; 19.262; 32.23). In Aeschines’ passage, there are three present imperatives that are introduced by prohibitive particles, the first of which is repeated without this being factually necessary: [1]‌ μὴ πρὸς Διὸς καὶ θεῶν, ἱκετεύω ὑμᾶς, ὦ ἄνδρες Αθηναῖοι, μὴ τρόπαιον ἵστατε ἀφ᾽ ὑμῶν αὐτῶν ἐν τῇ τοῦ Διονύσου ὀρχήστρᾳ, [2] μηδ᾽ αἱρεῖτε παρανοίας ἐναντίον τῶν Ἑλλήνων τὸν δῆμον τὸν Ἀθηναίων, [3] μηδ᾽ ὑπομιμνῄσκετε τῶν ἀνιάτων καὶ ἀνηκέστων κακῶν τοὺς ταλαιπώρους Θηβαίους, οὓς φεύγοντας διὰ τοῦτον ὑποδέδεχθε τῇ πόλει, ὧν ἱερὰ καὶ τέκνα καὶ τάφους ἀπώλεσεν ἡ Δημοσθένους δωροδοκία καὶ τὸ βασιλικὸν χρυσίον. No, by Zeus and the gods, [1]‌do not, my fellow citizens, do not, I beseech you, set up in the orchestra of Dionysus a memorial of your own

108  Reacting to the “airy nothing” defeat, [2] do not in the presence of the Greeks convict the Athenian people of having lost their reason, [3] do not remind the poor Thebans of their incurable and irreparable disasters, men who, exiled through Demosthenes’ acts, found refuge with you, when their shrines and children and tombs had been destroyed by Demosthenes’ taking of bribes and by the Persian gold. (3.156) The synergetic use of religious references and linguistic patterns in this passage underlines the solemnity and the dramatic character of the case, and emphasizes the pathos that the speaker feels when referring to his opponent. To place an invocation to the gods in the context where you refer to the men-​and god-​hated misdeeds of your adversary is evidently an attempt to stir up the hostile emotions (like anger and hatred) of your audience (that, in this case, comprises both Athenians and other Greeks) against the alleged perpetrator. Pathos is also stirred up by the use of asyndeton, which underlines the urgency of the imperative prohibitions that the Athenians in the audience should take into serious consideration. The potential of asyndeton to produce emotions is attested in ancient rhetorical theories (e.g. Apsines’ Rhetoric 10.55), as it is also mentioned that the combined use of asyndeton with repetition makes the speech (emotionally) more forcible (e.g. Aristotle’s Rhetoric 1413b30–​1414a6 and Demetrius’ Περὶ ἐρμηνείας 61).59 The use of the present imperative at the end is another means of creating a cognitive and emotional disposition in the Athenians towards Demosthenes:  it enables the target audience to understand precisely what actions it should undertake.60 Isocrates 1.16 is another passage where asyndeton is used with present imperatives in the context of religious discourse. What marks this passage out in the Isocratean corpus of speeches is the use of four imperatives in a row:  “fear the gods, honour your parents, respect your friends, obey the laws” (τοὺς μὲν θεοὺς φοβοῦ, τοὺς δὲ γονεῖς τίμα, τοὺς δὲ φίλους αἰσχύνου, τοῖς δὲ νόμοις πείθου). Emphasis on four important values in the life of a leader (in this case, Demonicus, the son of the Cypriot king, Nicocles) is enhanced emotionally by the use of asyndeton and cognitively by the use of present imperatives, which pressingly and authoritatively urge Demonicus to accept and implement them. Although this speech was not delivered publicly,61 it is important in showing how the cognitive/​emotional stimuli are incorporated into the text to affect readers cognitively and emotionally. We should not forget that, as Dionysius of Halicarnassus points out: When I pick up one of Demosthenes’ speeches, I am transported. I am led hither and thither, feeling one emotion after another –​disbelief, anguish, terror, contempt, hatred, pity, goodwill, anger, envy –​every emotion in turn that can sway the human mind. (On Demosthenes’ Diction 22)

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  109 In Demosthenes 21.73, there is an imperative at the beginning of the clause, and another after the invocation to the gods and the address to the audience. This accumulation of features makes the passage worth closer examination: σκέψασθε δὴ πρὸς Διὸς καὶ θεῶν, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, καὶ λογίσασθε παρ᾽ ὑμῖν αὐτοῖς, ὅσῳ πλείον᾽ ὀργὴν ἐμοὶ προσῆκε παραστῆναι πάσχοντι τοιαῦθ᾽ ὑπὸ Μειδίου ἢ τότ᾽ ἐκείνῳ τῷ Εὐαίωνι τῷ τὸν Βοιωτὸν ἀποκτείναντι. ὁ μέν γ᾽ ὑπὸ γνωρίμου, καὶ τούτου μεθύοντος, ἐναντίον ἓξ ἢ ἕπτ᾽ ἀνθρώπων ἐπλήγη, καὶ τούτων γνωρίμων, οἳ τὸν μὲν κακιεῖν οἷς ἔπραξε, τὸν δ᾽ ἐπαινέσεσθαι μετὰ ταῦτ᾽ ἀνασχόμενον καὶ κατασχόνθ᾽ ἑαυτὸν ἔμελλον, καὶ ταῦτ᾽ εἰς οἰκίαν ἐλθὼν ἐπὶ δεῖπνον, οἷ μηδὲ βαδίζειν ἐξῆν αὐτῷ. Think then, by Zeus and the gods, men of Athens, and calculate in your own minds how much more reason I had to be angry when I suffered so at the hands of Meidias, than Euaeon when he killed Boeotus. Euaeon was struck by an acquaintance, who was drunk at the time, in the presence of six or seven witnesses, who were also acquaintances and might be depended upon to denounce the one for his offence and commend the other if he had patiently restrained his feelings after such an affront, especially as Euaeon had gone to sup at a house which he need never have entered at all. (21.73) In context, aorist imperatives convey the exhortative message to the audience in a more forcible way than the present imperative, and their use is indicative of the strong volition of Demosthenes to elicit a specific response from the audience at whom the imperative is directed. As C. M. J. Sicking argues, aorist imperatives are used in cases where “a verb informs the person addressed as to what is expected of him or her”.62 The audience is expected to think and understand how reasonable the emotions of the speaker towards Meidias are, and potentially to share those emotions. The address to the audience sharpens the focus of the imperatives, while the invocation to the gods underlines the dramatic nature of the incident. It also aims to prove the authenticity of his emotions:  Demosthenes, in a sense, asks the gods to testify how strongly he feels about the wrongdoer. The anecdotal story recorded in Plutarch’s Demosthenes 11.2–​3, and discussed above,63 indicates that authentic emotions can easily be transferred from the communicator to the audience –​and this is what Demosthenes aims to achieve in 21.73, namely to make his emotions a model for the judges and onlookers and, thereby, to create in them hostility towards Meidias. In addition to the use of imperatives, questions are another linguistic pattern that is used in contexts where religious discourse is also manifest with a similar aim of creating a cognitive disposition in the audience towards a person (the speaker or his opponents) or a situation. The use of questions in

110  Reacting to the “airy nothing” religious contexts is quite frequent in Attic oratory (cf. Aeschines 2.138 –​this is a part of a larger segment of Aeschines’ speech in sections 136–​139, where one can find the densest use of questions in Attic oratory, no fewer than 13 questions in a row, 3.130–​132; Andocides 1.114; Demosthenes 19.130, 164, 303; Dinarchus 1.45, 96; Isaeus 6.58; 7.33; 9.15). What marks Aeschines 3.130–​132 and Dinarchus 19.96 out in the corpus of Attic speeches is the accumulation of questions in limited space: in the first passage we can find eight questions, while in the second there are six questions –​all placed in contexts where there are references to the gods or the oaths. Ancient rhetorical theories refer to the power of questions to amplify the clarity and vividness of a speech (Tiberius, Περὶ πυσματικοῦ 13). [Longinus] points out, in his treatise Περὶ ὕψους 18.1–​2, that questions enable the speaker to “give intensity to his language and [make] it much more effective and vehement”. Demetrius points out in his treatise Περὶ ἐρμηνείας 279, “the orator forces his hearer into a sort of corner, so that he seems to be brought to task and to have no answer”.64 To strengthen his message and pass it more readily over the audience, a speaker uses a question and makes an invocation to the gods. If the question was substituted for a positive statement, and if there was no invocation to the gods, which subtly warns the audience that there are divine inspectors in court, the judges and onlookers would not have become attentive or receptive.

Notes 1 Boyer (2001) 000–​000. 2 A possible objection to this kind of analysis is that to examine the expected or possible reaction of the ancient audience inevitably entails extensive speculation. Speculation is, in many ways, an inherent feature of any text-​oriented analysis of aspects of ancient Greek and Roman literature. It does no harm, therefore, to use some “mind scenarios” to shed further light on the speeches of Attic oratory. Nonetheless, to limit speculation, I draw on a range of information provided by ancient sources and modern interdisciplinary scholarship on human behaviour, emotions and actions. See also Serafim (2017) 113–​136, where it is explained how speculation in the examination of oratorical hypocrisis is limited by the use of ancient rhetorical treatises that give us valuable information about the speaker’s gesticulation and techniques of vocalization. 3 On the notion of “non-​verbal communication”: Lateiner (1995); Boegehold (1999) 12–​28. On the distinction between the direct/​sensory and the cognitive/​emotional features of oratorical performance: Serafim (2017) 2–​3. 4 Translation: Freese (1926). 5 On the significance of gestures and bodily movements in the law court: Institutio Oratoria 11.3.66–​136. For a full and detailed examination of the notion and key-​ aspects of hypocrisis: Serafim (2017) 28–​46. 6 Subjectivity refers to emotions, feelings and thoughts, while identity refers to how you see yourself and how others see you. 7 Pernot (2005) 235–​254. 8 On speech act theory:  Austin (1962); Searle (1969), (1975) 59–​82, (1976) 1–​24; Risselada (1993) 26–​29; Bary (2009).

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  111 9 A parallel practice to the one described by Pseudo-​Aristotle about the hypocrisis of prayers can be found in the proceedings of the liturgies of the Christian Church, more specifically in the Eucharistic Prayer or Anaphora. In the preface of the Eucharistic prayer, the so-​called sumsum corda (“lift up your hearts”), when the priest recites the dictum ἄνω σχῶμεν τὰς καρδίας, “he raises his hands to the sky and looks upward, inviting the people present in the church to do the same”. 10 Further on the gestural and vocal presentation of a prayer, and its linguistic features: Furley (2010) 127–​9. On the actio of prayer in the forensic speeches of Aeschines (2, 3) and Demosthenes (18, 19): Serafim (2017) 117–​120. 11 Dinarchus’ Against Philocles is another speech that starts with a reference to the gods. In contrast to Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates and Demosthenes’ On the Crown, however, that speech does not start with a prayer, but with an invocation: τί χρὴ λέγειν πρὸς τῶν θεῶν περὶ τοιούτων ἀνθρώπων “what in Heaven’s name are we to say about such men as this?” Demosthenes 25.2 also makes a reference to the god, implying divine presence in the law court. This reference is in the second section of the exordium, not at the very beginning: εἰ δ᾽ οἷοι μισεῖν, δίκην, ἐὰν θεὸς θέλῃ, τοῦτον δώσειν “if you are disposed to hate them, then this man, please God! Shall pay the penalty”. Wankel (1976) 106 refers to some legal fragments from trials on religious matters. 12 For a more detailed discussion of the purposes that these two prayers serve, see pp. 99–101. 13 Translation from Murray (1939) is slightly amended in this passage. 14 The densest accumulation of references to the gods and semi-​divine personages can be found in Lycurgus’ reference to the ephebic oath in 1.77 (Agraulus, Hestia, Enyo, Enyalius, Ares, Athena the Warrior, Zeus, Thallo, Auxo, Hegemone and Heracles) and Demosthenes in 43.66 (Zeus, Apollo, Athena, Heracles, Leto and Artemis). Lycurgus and Demosthenes do not use any formulaic phrases for oaths, however:  the first refers to the gods as witnesses to oath-​taking (ἵστορες θεοί), while the second refers to an oracle. 15 Plutarch, Demosthenes 11.2–​3; Cassius Longinus, Ars Rhetorica 567; Cicero, De Oratore 3.213–​27; Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria 4.2.77, 11.3.1–​14. 16 Demosthenes 8.34: “for tell me, by Zeus, if the Greeks should call you to account for the opportunities that your carelessness has already thrown away”. 17 It is remarkable that no oaths are cited in the whole corpus of Lysias’ transmitted speeches, “unless we count Against Andocides, a speech almost certainly from a different hand”, as Bers (2009) 110 points out. 18 Serafim (2017) 119–​120. 19 Serafim (2017) 120. 20 On the ritual background of the cries in Demosthenes 18.259–​260:  Goodwin (1970) 161; Usher (1993) 260; Pulleyn (1997) 183–​4; Bers (1997) 175; Yunis (2001) 255–​6; Martin (2009) 104–​15. 21 Selected primary sources: Aeschines 1.69, 77–​8, 80–​1; Aristophanes, Acharnians 37–​9; Demosthenes 5.15; 13.3; 18.265; 19.23, 46, 112–​3, 337; 23.18–​9; Isaeus 6.59; Thucydides 4.28.1; Aristotle, Rhetoric 1400a9–​11, 1408a23–​25; Plato, Laws 659a, 700c–​701a, 876b1–​6, Republic 492b5–​c2, Protagoras 319c, Apology of Socrates 17d1, 21a5, 27b1, 30c2–​3; Lysias 12.73; Xenophon, Hellenica 1.12–​3, 15; Pollux 4.88. Useful modern discussions on audiences’ volubility in theatre, law court or the assembly include: Bers (1985) 1–​15; Hall (2006) 363–​6; Tacon (2001) 173–​92; Roselli (2011) 47–​51; Thomas (2011) 171–​85; Bakker (2012) 396.

112  Reacting to the “airy nothing” 22 Bers (1985) 1–​15; Thomas (2011) 175–​85. 23 The Lives of the Ten Orators 845b: προελθὼν δὲ πάλιν εἰς τὰς ἐκκλησίας, νεωτερικῶς τινα λέγων διεσύρετο, ὡς κωμῳδηθῆναι αὐτὸν ὑπ’ Ἀντιφάνους [fr. 288] καὶ Τιμοκλέους [fr.41; cf. Apostolakis (2019) 252–​255] μὰ –​ νάματα· ὀμόσας δὲ τοῦτον τὸν τρόπον ἐν τῷ δήμῳ θόρυβον ἐκίνησεν. “Another time, declaiming publicly, and using expressions too youthful for one of his years and gravity, he was laughed at, and ridiculed by the comedians, Antiphanes and Timocles, who in derision used to repeat such phrases as these, as uttered by him: ‘By the earth, by the fountains, by the rivers, by the floods!’ For having sworn thus in presence of the people, he raised a tumult about him”. 24 “Interpretive communities”, a “group of readers who share a set of conventions for understanding literary works in certain ways”, is a notion coined by Stanley Fish in his article “Interpreting the Variorum”; Fish (1980) 147–​173, esp. 167ff, (2004) 217–​21; cf. Pelling (2000) 4–​16. On the multiplicity of interpretive communities in the ancient theatre: Roselli (2011) 51–​54. 25 Martin (2009) 6. 26 Demosthenes 23.18–​19: “It is, perhaps, fair that I should allow you, who are to hear me, to choose what you wish to hear first and second and last. Consider what you prefer, that I  may begin with that. You wish me to deal first with the illegality? Very well; I will do so”. The last phrase makes sense only if we assume that the audience agreed with Demosthenes, shouting out a positive answer to his question. 27 In Demosthenes 18.52 the audience is asked whether Aeschines was a hireling or a friend of Alexander (μισθωτός or ξένος). Demosthenes then, turning to his opponent, says, “You hear what they say” (ἀκούεις ἃ λέγουσιν). In my book, Attic Oratory and Performance, I argue that “Demosthenes changes the narrative into an interactive exchange between himself, his opponent, and the audience, with the aim of allocating to the audience an active role in the performance and increasing the persuasiveness of his case. As the Scholia Demosthenica 104a–​c report, the final period (‘You hear what they say’) refers to the response of the audience: when Demosthenes mispronounced the word μισθωτός by putting the accent on the antepenult, μίσθωτος, the audience corrected him by uttering the right form of the word. Another story involves the poet Menander, who was said to have acted as a kind of cheer-​leader of a small but vociferous body of supporters who shouted ‘Aeschines is a hireling’, and Demosthenes accepted this as the sentiment of the whole audience’ (see Scholia 104b). Although neither of these anecdotal stories may be (at least, fully) reliable, they do, nevertheless, indicate that the audience, mobilized by the speaker, was not a passive recipient of communication” (Serafim (2017) 53); cf. Couch (1944) 173–​4; Tacon (2001) 178–​9; Yunis (2001) 140. Another anecdotal story about Demosthenes’ strategic mispronunciation of words is recorded in Pseudo-​Plutarch, Lives of the Ten Orators 845b, where we are told that the speaker mispronounced the name of the god Asclepius to note that this god is benign (Ἀσκλήπιος instead of Ἀσκληπιός). Fanciful or not, these anecdotes provide insights into how Demosthenes tried to engage the audience. 28 The function of imperatives in ritual discourse, according to Bakker, may point to the Greek popular attitude towards deities: they are not thought of as being distant and invisible entities, but as assistants and allies. Bakker (1966) 127. 29 Karanika (2014) 94. 30 Bers (2009) 113.

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  113 31 Rijksbaron (2006) 102. 32 Goodwin (1992) 313. 33 For a comprehensive survey of major theories about (modern) religion as a source of emotions: Thagard (2005) 58–​74. 34 Solomon (1976). 35 Cognitivism, the most widely accepted theory of emotions in analytic philosophy, is defined by Lyons (1993) 33 as “one that makes some aspect of thought, usually a belief, central to the concept of emotion and, at least in some cognitive theories, essential to distinguishing the different emotions from one.” Further on cognitivism: Kenny (1963); De Souza (1988); Nussbaum (2001); Dixon (2003). 36 Thagard (2006) 238. 37 Thagard (2002). 38 Lemmens and Herck (2008) 3. 39 Kapogiannis et al. (2009). 40 Schjoedt (2009). 41 On the punishment of impiety, see Chapter 4, pp. 132–133. 42 Rubinstein (2004) 187–​203; Serafim (2017) 23. 43 Aeschines 3.228: “I am enraged the most at what I am now about to tell you. For he likens me in natural endowment to the Sirens, saying that it was not charm that the Sirens brought to those who listened to them, but destruction, and that therefore the Siren-​song has no good repute; and that in like manner the smooth flow of my speech and my natural ability have proved the ruin of those who have listened to me. And yet I think no man in the world is justified in making such a statement about me. It is a shame to accuse a man and not to be able to show the ground for the accusation”. 44 Antiphon 5.72:  οὐ γὰρ ἔστιν ὅ τι ἂν ὀργιζόμενος ἄνθρωπος εὖ γνοίη. αὐτὸ γὰρ ᾧ βουλεύεται, τὴν γνώμην, διαφθείρει τοῦ ἀνθρώπου “it is impossible for an angry man to make a right decision, as anger destroys his one instrument of decision, his judgment”. 45 See Chapter 4, pp. 127–129. 46 Aristotle discusses a Homeric example of repetition (and asyndeton) in the Iliad 2.261: “Nireus, again, from Syme, Nireus son of Aglaia, Nireus the most beautiful”. He notes: “if then the name is often mentioned, it seems as if much has been said; so that, by means of this fallacy, Homer has increased the reputation of Nireus, though he only mentions him in one passage; he has perpetuated his memory, though he never speaks of him again”. See also Demetrius’ On style 61: “Again, take Nireus—​he is personally mean, and his share is meaner still, three ships and a handful of men. But Homer has made him great, and multiplied his following, through using in combination the two figures of repetition and disjunction. ‘Nireus’, he says, ‘brought three ships, Nireus Aglaia’s son, Nireus the goodliest man’. The recurrence to one and the same name ‘Nireus’, and the disjunction, created an impression of multiplied power, though it is composed of but two or three items”. Translation of Demetrius’ treatise: Roberts (1902) 101. 47 See Chapter 1, p. 53. 48 Frequent references to the oath that the judges swore, and the legal-​political obligations that this oath has for them; Aeschines 1.170; 2.1; 3.6, 8, 198 (this reference is important because of the mention that whoever violates the oath, simultaneously violates the law and the democratic constitution –​the merging of the three indicates how closely interconnected patriotism, politics and religion were

114  Reacting to the “airy nothing” in ancient Athens), 233, 257; Andocides 1.2, 9, 90, 105; 3.22; Demosthenes 18.1, 121; 19.132, 179, 285, 297; 20.119; 21.177, 212; 23.96; 24.148, 175; 25.99, 149–​151; 27.68; 39.41; 45.87; 55.35; Dinarchus 3.17; Lysias 14.22, 40; 15.8–​11; 18.13; 34.23; Isaeus 2.47; 4.31; 6.65; 8.46; Isocrates 15.18, 21. 49 Medical language is also used in other speeches, but not in passages where religious discourse is deployed; cf. Demosthenes 25.95: “His case is incurable, men of Athens, quite incurable. Just as physicians, when they detect a cancer or an ulcer or some other incurable growth, cauterize it or cut it away, so you ought all to unite in exterminating this monster. Cast him out of your city; destroy him. Take your precautions in time and do not wait for the evil consequences, which I pray may never fall either on individuals or on the community”. 50 On medical anxieties in antiquity: Dodds (1957) 223; Brock (2000) 30; Mitchell-​ Boyask (2008); Serafim (2019) 140–​144 with references to Attic oratory in particular. On fear as a means of controlling the law court audience:  Rubinstein (2004) 188–​9; Konstan (2006) 129–​55. 51 Isocrates, Against Callimachus 32: “the great majority of all those achievements that have been accomplished by fighting may be attributed to Fortune [τῇ τύχῃ]; but for the moderation we showed towards one another no one could find any other cause than our judgement [τὴν ἡμετέραν γνώμην]. Consequently it is not fitting that we should prove false to this glorious reputation”. On the synergetic action between divine and human will, see Chapter 2, p.77 n. 32. 52 Janis and Feshbach (1953) 78–​92; Leventhal, Singer and Jones (1965) 20–​9; Baron et al. (1992) 323–​46; Gleicher and Petty (1992) 86–​100. 53 Jay (2009) 155; cf. Pinker (2007); Fägersten (2012); Vingerhoets, Bylsma and Vlam (2013) 287–​304. 54 Lysias 6.17: “now where these sacred things are concerned you should rather be indignant (ὀργίζεσθαι οὖν χρή), men of Athens, at guilt in your own citizens than in strangers”. 55 On the marginalized status of sycophants: Lofberg (1917) esp. 19–​25, (1920) 61–​ 72; MacDowell (1978) 62–​6; Harvey (1990) 103–​21; Yunis (1996) 253–​4, n.  31; Christ (1998) 48–​71; Pernot (2005) 24–​5. 56 On pollution: Dodds (1957) 35–​7; Parker (1983) esp. 145–​7, 195–​7, 257ff. On the ritual of katharsis: Dodds (1957) 35ff., 48, 78–​80. 57 On the links between piety, religion in general and patriotism, we can also take advantage of literary sources; e.g. Aeschylus, Seven Against Thebes 597–​608; Menander’s Farmer 35–​9 where justice is merged with piety. 58 Modern critics call the process of portraying characters ēthopoiia. This term, despite its wide use in contemporary scholarship, has limited ancient authority. It is used by later theorists, most notably Dionysius of Halicarnassus (in Lysias 8), but in a more restricted sense as a reference to the depiction of the speaker’s good moral character in the speeches of Lysias. Modern scholars tend to use ēthopoiia in two senses: for Usher (1965) 99, the emphasis is firmly on ēthopoiia as moral character. For Carey (1989) 10–​1, 61–​2, ēthopoiia designates the depiction of dramatic characters. Serafim (2017), adopting a moderate position in the middle of these two antithetical views, suggests that ēthopoiia, in its original sense, can be used to describe the process of portraying the moral character of the speaker and his opponents, regardless of whether the quality of their character is good or bad, and whether the portrayal is commensurate with the real life character or is dramatic. The persuasiveness of ēthopoiia is discussed by Aristotle (Rhetoric

Reacting to the “airy nothing”  115 1356a4–​ 6; 1356a13, 1377b20–​ 4, 1378a6–​ 15). Negative ēthopoiia, or character assassination, depicts the persona of the opponent negatively, by presenting him, for example, as an enemy of the gods, thereby inviting the judges and onlookers to foster negative emotions about him. 59 On the use of asyndeton as a means of stirring up emotions: Serafim (2019) 144. 60 Sicking (1991) 157. 61 Ancient theorists criticize the style of Isocratean speeches as being an impediment to their delivery; cf. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Isocrates 13. See also Cooper (2004) 153. 62 Sicking (1991) 156. 63 See pp. 83–84. 64 Translation:  Roberts (1902) 195. On the use of questions in Attic forensic oratory: Wooten (2013) 353–​369; Serafim (2020).

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4  Civic/​political identity in religious discourse

As noted in the Introduction, ancient religion was, for the most part, practised within a community, and was an expression of civic affiliation. The question of identity is central to the dynamics of religious argumentation. Several attempts have been made to discuss the features and mechanisms of forging civic/​political identity in classical Athens, but significantly fewer to examine the contribution of religious discourse to that process.1 J. Filonik, for example, devotes a short part of a recent paper to examining how religion is presented as a civic duty in Lycurgus’ Against Leocrates.2 In a previous publication, I  examined passages in forensic oratory that indicate the complex use of religious discourse, sexuality and references to social status for deconstruction of the identity of the speaker’s opponents, and the possible impact this deconstruction may have had upon the audience. From references to Demosthenes as being kinaidos (cf. Aeschines 1.131, 181; 2.88, 99, 151), i.e. an unmanly male in body, attire and deportment, to the innuendoes about the morally and sexually depraved upbringing of Aeschines in the groups of tipsy men who attend mystical foreign-​rooted rites (cf. Demosthenes 18.259–​260), there is ample information in Attic oratory about how the speakers deconstruct their opponents’ sexuality and undermine their social standing.3 This chapter, broader in scope and the materials it considers (i.e. the entirety of the extant speeches of Attic oratory), aims to elaborate on the issue of identity construction, providing a detailed theoretical investigation of the topic and examining the features and the purposes of the making and breaking of civic/​political identities in Attic oratory –​a topic that lies at the heart of the themes and topics of this book. I argue, specifically, that there are two rhetorical strategies which exploit the intersection of religion and the polis for the purpose of identity (de)construction: first, the references to the interconnection between religion and civic spirit/​ patriotism; and second, the  religious dimension of the examples of ideal statesmen and mythical heroes which strengthen the bonds that keep the community together. By exploring passages from the extant forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic speeches of Attic oratory and applying identity construction and social identity theories, I aim to put more flesh on the bones of scholarship

Civic/political identity  121 with regard to the ways in which the intersection of religious discourse and identity construction enables speakers to persuade ancient audiences. The orators construct an ideal communal identity that is defined by the adherence of the Athenians both to an idealized civic spirit/​patriotism and to religion. At the same time, they construct the identity of their opponents in such a way as to illustrate their rejection of the values of patriotism and piety that mark the communal identity, thereby excluding them from the goodwill of the audience. There is, in other words, a tug-​of-​war between those presented as being inside the group and those presented as being outside it.

What is identity? Before proceeding to the examination of aspects of religious identity that manifest themselves in the extant speeches of Attic oratory, it is useful to provide information about the discussion, in modern interdisciplinary scholarship, of the complicated and multidimensional notion of “identity”:  its defining features, its gamut of application and the forms it takes in several contexts. This examination informs our approach to and enhances our understanding of aspects of identity and religious discourse in Greek antiquity. First introduced by psychologists in the 1950s, the notion of “identity” has long been one of the major fields of interest for researchers across a range of disciplines, especially in social studies, history and humanities. Despite this long history of interdisciplinary study, identity remains elusive in meaning and has a wide range of applications. Indeed, if one were to ask any two people to define what identity is, one would receive three different answers at least. Here is a list of influential attempts to define the notion: J. Clifford:  “Yet what if identity is conceived not as a boundary to be maintained but as a nexus of relations and transactions actively engaging a subject?”4 S. Hall: “Identity emerges as a kind of unsettled space, or an unresolved question in that space, between a number of intersecting discourses [… Until recently, we have incorrectly thought that identity is] a kind of fixed point of thought and being, a ground of action […] the logic of something like a ‘true self’. [But] identity is a process, identity is split. Identity is not a fixed point but an ambivalent point. Identity is also the relationship of the other to oneself ”;5 A. Wendt: “Social identities are sets of meanings that an actor attributes to itself while taking the perspective of others, that is, as a social object. [… Social identities are] at once cognitive schemas that enable an actor to determine ‘who I am/​we are’ in a situation and positions in a social role structure of shared understandings and expectations”;6 F. M. Deng: “Identity is used in this book to describe the way individuals and groups define themselves and are defined by others on the basis of race, ethnicity, religion, language and culture”;7

122  Civic/political identity R. Jenkins: Identity “refers to the ways in which individuals and collectivities are distinguished in their social relations with other individuals and collectivities”.8 We can pin down two defining features of identity, as discussed in interdisciplinary scholarship: first, that identity has a twofold nature, both an individual one, when there is only one bearer, and a collective one, when a community is marked in a specific way (e.g. a community of pious men or women, a community of foreigners, etc.); and second, the fact that a prerequisite for identity construction is recognition or identification, i.e. how an individual or a community are perceived by themselves or by others, or perhaps better, what features are attributed to an individual or a community, by themselves or by a third party. The notion of identity, in other words, cannot exist without an identifier, an identified party and the context in which identification is carried out. As Gee puts it: One cannot have an identity of any sort without some interpretive system underwriting the recognition of that identity. The interpretive system may be peoples’ historically and culturally different views of nature; it may be the norms, traditions and rules of institutions; it may be the discourse and dialogue of others; or it may be the workings of affinity groups. What is important about identity is that almost any identity trait can be understood in terms of any of these different interpretive systems. People can actively construe the same identity trait in different ways, and they can negotiate and contest how their traits are to be seen (by themselves and others) in terms of the different perspectives on identity. (Gee (2000) 99–​125)9 Identity is based, therefore, on the tripartite scheme identifier–​identified–​ context of identification and, in this book, it encompasses everything that has the potential to identify an individual or a community as being X or Z: character and behaviour, upbringing, education, occupation and way of life, bodily physiques, actions, origins, religious allegiances and practices, indications of morality and, of course, words. For, as ancient critics indicate, identity can be revealed by the verbal expression of an individual’s thoughts (e.g. Aristotle, Poetics 1450b8, 1454a17–​ 19; Rhetoric 1417a20–​22, Nicomachean Ethics 1103a17ff, 1112a16–​17, 1163a22–​23; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Lysias 8). In other words, identity, as I use it here, can be seen as a sort of predicate that is attached to individuals or collectives by themselves or others, and describes their nature, traits and actions. The context of identification, one of the three defining prerequisites of identity, can be explained through the lens of social identity theory, the most fundamental premise of which is that membership in social groups, structures and institutions determines the ways in which an individual behaves. These

Civic/political identity  123 groups, structures and institutions precede individuals and create the framework in which they (inter-​or re)act in the world. P. Bourdieu, aiming to explain the relation between structure and individual agency, coined the notion of habitus, or social category.10 According to him, habitus is “a system of lasting, transposable dispositions which, integrating past experiences, functions at every moment as a matrix of perceptions, appreciations and actions and makes possible the achievement of infinitely diversified tasks”.11 The construction of identity through habitus recognizes the agency of the individual within the structures of society. M. Mauss and E. Goffman pay attention to the roles that individuals undertake in the social context around them, and to the importance of this role for identity construction. Mauss argues that mundane quotidian actions executed by individuals have the capacity to reveal identities,12 while Goffman discusses how people use their bodies to perform their identities in the social context.13 These insights are further discussed in the work of J.  Butler, who argues that identity is the result of culturally enforced actions and not of any biological status.14 A social category, another way to talk about habitus, is a set of people designated by a label (or labels) commonly given to, or used by, that set of people. As J. Fearon puts it: Social categories have two distinguishing features: first, they are defined by implicit or explicit rules of membership, according to which individuals are assigned, or not, to the category. Second, social categories are understood in terms of sets of characteristics  –​for example, beliefs, desires, moral commitments or physical attributes –​thought typical of members of the category, or behaviour expected or demanded of members in certain situations. (Fearon (1999) 13–​14) The construction of identities is a twofold process, both inclusive, i.e. a process that involves the internalization of identities with the same features, and exclusive, in the sense that it entails the elimination of identities that are presented as have a low degree of communality, especially in regard to bearing the same features and espousing common values. The social identity theory of H.  Tajfel and J.  Turner indicates that the activation of this dipole, i.e. inclusivity and exclusivity, has most effectively configured behavioural stances and attitudes in target audiences.15 The most fundamental premise of social identity theory is that the members of a group seek to find negative aspects of those who do not belong to the group, thus enhancing their self-​image and in-​group solidarity. The use of religious discourse for identity construction works in a similar way, as a means for the speaker to create a favourable disposition in the audience towards him, by associating himself with them, while also estranging his opponent from the group. The members of a civic community that places, or is warned of the need to place,16 a high emphasis on religion are expected to identify themselves with the people who also regard religion highly. The same

124  Civic/political identity members of a civic community are also expected to react negatively when they judge that common religious life and the ensuing quality of being pious have been threatened or devalued. This is religious identity: the identification of an individual with religious traditions, beliefs and practices in a well-​designated historical and socio-​political context. For, as mentioned in the Introduction, the identity of the Athenian polis is defined, among other things, by the people’s participation in the hiera and hosia –​roughly explained as whatever practices, rites, temples and socio-​political institutions refer or relate to the (sacrifice to the) gods.17 Religion, as argued in modern interdisciplinary theory, provides a strong kind of individual and communal identity: by defining one’s identity as excluding the other from the religious group, it allows an individual or a community to understand themselves as the opposite of the other.18 An increasing number of studies indicate the mechanisms through which religion contributes to identity construction.19 Modern scholars have viewed religion as eminently social and argue that religious representations are collective and express collective realities. Religious customs, practices and rites are repeated formal patterns of social behaviour, which are expressive and symbolic and link the people in a community together.20 This is exactly what J.-​J. Rousseau calls civil religion: a form of religion that coincides with secular legislation and with a united society.21 For instance, a sense of unity and inclusion in civic and social groups is manifested through participation in rites and the use of religious customs and practices in the context of public processes. This is also true in antiquity, where Greek religious cults and festivals, with their public processions and communal forms of sacrifice and prayer, are undertaken by the whole community of people, mapped onto the reach of polis institutions, such as the demes, the phratries and the genē. As noted in the Introduction to this book, C. Sourvinou-​Inwood has pointed out that “the fact that all the phratries in Athens have the same main deities suggests that their most important cults resulted from a central articulation of cult, an articulation of the polis given symbolic expression and cohesion through cult”.22 The performance of communal rituals provides the identity that turns the community into a cohesive social entity, conjoining its members. The realization that the religious mindset of a group of people is empirical, based on personal and collective applications of beliefs and intuitions, is also central to the theory of emotional community. This term, coined by B. Rosenwein, refers to “a group of people animated by common or similar interests, emotional styles and valuations”.23 In Rosenwein’s words, references to emotional communities include “what the communities (and the individuals within them) define and assess as valuable or harmful to them”.24 This definitely applies to the ancient Athenian civic community: references in oratory point to the strong value that the Athenians attached to religion and to the quality of being pious, values that permeated a wide range of social, political and cultural aspects of life. In Lycurgus’ words, the Athenians should realize that:

Civic/political identity  125 [They] would be held to have neglected the virtues which chiefly distinguish [them] from the rest of mankind, piety towards the gods, reverence for [their] ancestors and ambition for [their] country, if this man were to escape punishment at [their] hands. (1.15) Demosthenes, talking to his fellow Athenians in 4.45, points out that “wherever, I believe, we send out a force composed partly or wholly of our citizens, there the gods are gracious and fortune fights on our side”. In 25.11, Demosthenes talks to his fellow-​citizens and asks them to “magnify the Goddess of Order who loves what is right and preserves every city and every land” (τὴν τὰ δίκαι᾽ ἀγαπῶσαν Εὐνομίαν περὶ πλείστου ποιησαμένους, ἣ πάσας καὶ πόλεις καὶ χώρας σῴζει). In 1.79, furthermore, Lycurgus claims that “the power which keeps our democracy together is the oath” (cf. 1.125; Andocides 1.9), while Dinarchus, in 3.19, also argues that the major constituent of the well-​being of the city is the grace of the gods. For Demosthenes, in the Erotic Essay 14, “fortune has taken qualities mutually contradictory and caused them all to be properly harmonized”. These remarks in Attic oratory reveal how religion is perceived to be a fundamental feature of the civic communal identity of Athens. Theory acknowledges that a correlation exists between religion and ethnicity, or, better for the study of the classical Athenian past, civic spirit and patriotism. The notion of patriotism entails the idea of belonging to a community, of sharing the same fatherland, patris, i.e. the land and its socio-​ political, cultural, religious and moral institutions.25 Seen from this angle, patris coincides with polis, as defined in the Introduction to this book.26 J. Crowley distinguishes between: ‘Higher patriotism’, which focused on the common identity of the Greeks as a distinct culture group (which, as Herodotus mentions in Histories 8.144.2, comprises people who share blood, language, religion and culture  –​elements that solidify the common identity of the Greek city-​ states), and ‘lower patriotism’, which focused on the narrower political community or polis. (Crowley (2020) 1–​18) A patriot, therefore, can be whoever relates to the institutions of the polis, espouses the core values that mark that polis from others and underline its distinct communal identity, conforms to the expectations of the community, and, as Crowley argues, shows ability to carry out even daunting civic duties.27 This chapter focuses on the examination of aspects of “lower patriotism”, as manifested in passages of Attic oratory, where religion intersects with the practices and purposes of the Athenian civic community. Participation or membership in a religion, as happened in fourth-​century BC Athens, is theorized to be correlated with civic spirit and patriotism, not

126  Civic/political identity least because these constitute an expression of a strong and uncompromising bond to the community, of which religion is a component.28 As Blok argues, “participation adequately captures a citizen’s role, while hiera kai hosia was used frequently as an equivalent of polis, encompassing all that essentially mattered to the polis”.29 From this point of view it is not an exaggeration to say that religion equates to civic spirit and patriotism, as modern sociological and psychological theories also affirm.30 In classical scholarship, K.  Dover points out that “any action which adversely affected the worship of the gods was simultaneously impious and unpatriotic because divine protection and goodwill were the return made by the gods when honoured and withdrawn when they were not”.31 In the same vein, R. Parker states that “patriotism and piety were indistinguishable because of the obligation to protect the sacred places of Attica. Respect for the gods, respect for the fatherland, respect for ancestral tombs, respect for parents”.32 G. Martin argues that political community coincides with religious community, and examines the persuasive use of religious discourse in a sample of Demosthenes’ speeches (18–​20 and 22–​ 24) and in a limited number of speeches by other orators (Pseudo-​Lysias 6, Against Andocides, Aeschines and Lycurgus).33 There is no single work, however, which offers a comprehensive examination of the broad range of rhetorical strategies that draw on the intersection of piety and patriotism, in the entirety of Attic speeches, a body of 151 speeches which represents the mature flourishing of the art of public speaking, and the lack of such a reference work makes the preparation of this chapter even more timely. The following section explores how rhetoric exploited the intersection of civic spirit/​patriotism and piety to construct and contrast individual and collective identities, thus influencing audiences in classical Athenian legal and political forums. It will be argued that the speakers engaged in an incessant twofold game of inclusion and exclusion from the group: first, they create or preserve the unity of a group of people by underlining shared religious and civic values and convictions, and promoting the belief that this group has shared interests; and second, they exclude political rivals from the group as being alien and inimical to the religious and civic bonds that hold the community together.

Religious discourse and civic spirit/​patriotism Frequently in the speeches of Attic oratory, the notion of piety and the notion of justice are bound together. We see this especially in the speeches of Antiphon, where this idea is articulated through the formula ὁσίως καὶ δικαίως, which might be roughly translated as “satisfy heaven and justice”, in passages where the speaker pleads for an individual’s innocence and complains about the accusations that are levelled against him by his opponents (as, for example, in Antiphon 2.4.12; 3.2.12). This interrelationship between religious and secular matters is also evident in references to an omnipresent and omniscient divine audience overseeing the judges in the law court. In Chapter 3, I referred to

Civic/political identity  127 several passages where this divine oversight is mentioned (as in Demosthenes 18.1, 141; 19.1, 132, 179, 239–​240, 285, 297; 25.11; Aeschines 2.1, 180; 3.260), as well as references to the onlookers in the law court who also inspect the judges (as the references in Lysias 12.35; 22.19; Dinarchus 2.19; Demosthenes 19.133; Aeschines 3.247 indicate).34 This section builds on this recognition of a general interrelationship between divine and secular matters to explore in more detail how rhetoric exploited this fusing of civic spirit or patriotism on the one hand, and piety on the other hand, and how constructing identities, and thence drawing contrasts between these constructed identities, was a central part of this rhetorical exploitation of the links between patriotism and piety in legal and political contexts of public speaking. A feature of the interconnection between piety and patriotism that is yet to be thoroughly examined in classical scholarship on the Greek orators is the use of the civic address to the audience in religiously laden texts and contexts: ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι.35 The civic address assists the speaker to identify his core audience, especially if we recall that a proportion of the members of the viewing audience in high profile trials, such as those that aimed to settle the legal and political contest between Aeschines and Demosthenes, were non-​Athenians (cf. Aeschines 3.56). The identification of the vital Athenian audience is accomplished by establishing a group-​identity based on shared ethnicity, patriotism and common religious values. The speaker, I argue, adopts a “We–​They” strategy: civic address functions as a means for the speaker to artfully construct the audience’s frame of mind, by associating himself with the audience (“We”), while simultaneously estranging his opponents from the group (“They”).36 Demosthenes 19.259 and 25.63 feature two passages that have already been discussed in Chapter 337 in regards to the ways in which the speaker attempts to create a cognitive/​emotional disposition in the audience that will help him to persuade them. What makes both passages important for the analysis this chapter offers is that there is a civic address to the audience in both of them, which works as a means of constructing identities. In the first passage, Demosthenes reminds the judges that they have a civic identity  –​they are citizens of Athens –​and they need to work together with the divinized agent of luck (τύχη) to tackle Aeschines and save the city from a terrible disease. In the second passage, Demosthenes again reminds the law court audience of their civic identity, which is contrasted with the aberrant religious and civic/​ political identity of Aristogeiton, who is accused of being an enemy of the gods. Aeschines 3.56, which is mentioned in the previous paragraph as being a source of information about the composition of the law court audience, is another example of using a civic address, in a context where religious discourse is used (in the form of an invocation to the gods: πρὸς Διὸς καὶ θεῶν), with the aim of constructing the communal civic identity, a threat to which is Demosthenes the bribe-​taker, Hellene-​punisher and shrine-​destroyer.38 Another example of using addresses to the audience in a religiously laden passage can be found in Demosthenes 19.267, where the use of the civic address is enhanced by the connection between patriotism and religion on the

128  Civic/political identity one hand, and land and religion on the other. R. Parker is right to note that “patriotism is seen as an obligation created by an organic, parent-​child relationship between the citizen and his ‘native’ earth. But since that earth is also a goddess and a home of the gods and goddesses, patriotic devotion is also a form of piety”.39 καὶ οὔτε τὸν ἥλιον ᾐσχύνονθ’ οἱ ταῦτα ποιοῦντες οὔτε τὴν γῆν πατρίδ’ οὖσαν, ἐφ’ ἧς ἕστασαν, οὔθ’ ἱερὰ οὔτε τάφους οὔτε τὴν μετὰ ταῦτα γενησο μένην αἰσχύνην ἐπὶ τοιούτοις ἔργοις· οὕτως ἔκφρονας, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, καὶ παραπλῆγας τὸ δωροδοκεῖν ποιεῖ. And the perpetrators were not ashamed to face the sun, or their native land on which they stood, or shrines, or tombs, or the disgrace that would be the consequence of actions of that sort; such, men of Athens, is the madness and insanity produced by corruption. (Demosthenes 19.267) In this passage, the reference to the sun, earth, shrines and ancestral tombs aims to appeal to the civic pride of the Athenians, in a sense evoking the essence of the polis itself:  the physical surroundings (i.e. sun and land), its history and traditions (i.e. the tombs of the fighters for independence and freedom), and religion (i.e. the shrines; cf. Lycurgus 1.1, 143)40 are defining features of the Athenian civic community. The civic address, in this context, entwined with the implication for the intersection between the hallmarks of the Athenian civic community and religion, and the attribution of impiety to Aeschines, aims to strengthen the sense of a civic in-​group consciousness, so as to identify Demosthenes with the Athenian law court audience and implicitly isolate Aeschines from them.41 The association between native land and religion is, in the case of Athens, complemented by a broader relationship between the Athenians and their land, since they claimed that they were “sprung from earth” and that their ancestors had always lived in Attica since time immemorial.42 Autochthony is the core Athenian myth that defines the civic identity of the whole polis: it is “a patriotic and civic myth embodying the unity of the Athenian community”,43 which is used to underline the claimed nobility of Athens.44 The claim to autochthony became one of the core elements of Athenian self-​definition, to which oratory, especially epideictic funeral oratory, pays regular attention (e.g. Hypereides, Funeral Oration 7; Lysias, Funeral Oration 17; Demosthenes, Funeral Oration 4).45 A similar reference to the physical (and mental) constituents of the polis can be found in Aeschines 3.260: “Earth and Sun, and Virtue and Conscience and Education” (ὦ γῆ καὶ ἥλιε καὶ ἀρετὴ καὶ σύνεσις καὶ παιδεία). The invocation to the personified values of ἀρετή, σύνεσις, παιδεία and Δίκη seems to be tailored to the needs of the target audience, the Athenians, who considered Virtue, Conscience, Education and Justice to be inherent qualities of their

Civic/political identity  129 civic identity. Ἀρετή, for example, according to Williams, “nurtured a sense of pride as well as a manifest destiny among the Athenians, which in turn led to widespread reflection on the various factors that distinguished Athens from all the other cities in the ancient world”.46 The invocation to Virtue, Conscience and Education seems also to be used by Aeschines as a means of referring positively to himself and negatively to his opponent. As Wagener argues, invocations to natural or inanimate principles indicate “a very real bond of spiritual sympathy between the speaker and the objects which he apostrophises”.47 Aristotle (Rhetoric 1378a6–​ 18) also notes that ἀρετή, together with φρόνησις and εὔνοια, is a praiseworthy aspect of the speaker’s characterization that enables him to convince the audience. In context, therefore, the invocation to virtue and education seems to invite the audience to think of Aeschines as a virtuous and educated man, especially inasmuch as Demosthenes is accused of lacking these praiseworthy qualities (on the lack of education, cf. Aeschines 3.117, 130, 241). Education has both intellectual and moral significance: it is a notion synonymous with the idea of a virtuous upbringing and the instillation of values. By presenting himself as educated in Athenian values, just and virtuous and, subsequently, his opponent as unjust and boorish, Aeschines attempts not only to insinuate himself into the favour of the judges/​onlookers, but also to estrange them from Demosthenes by showing that the latter is alien to the values that sustain the Athenian community. The speaker seems to invite the audience to see themselves as having the praiseworthy qualities that he attributes to himself, insofar as, unlike Demosthenes, the judges and onlookers are pure Athenians, as Aeschines himself is. There is, in context, a notable shift of register from forensic to epideictic oratory, which is indicated by Aeschines’ dense references to a fundamental value of the Athenian ideology, autochthony. This shift points towards Aeschines’ goal of praising the core Athenian audience and create a sense of civic solidarity amongst them by underlining the common values that bind them together.48 The epilogue of Aeschines 3, in which the invocation to Earth, Sun, Virtue, Conscience and Education is placed, has been criticized as ending “abruptly and grotesquely”.49 Aeschines’ invocation is neither grotesque nor inept, in my view: in fact, it evokes tragedy, because the Sun, the Earth and Virtue are frequently invoked by tragic heroines (e.g. in Sophocles’ Electra 86–​87; Euripides’ Electra 866ff and Aeschylus’ Eumenides 1–​3), perhaps with the aim of underlining the solemnity of the law court moment and inducing the judges to realize how crucial was the decision they were about to make at the end of trial. The speaker appeals to the civic pride and duty of the judges, presenting himself as sharing some of the most significant Athenian values with his fellows and implying that his opponent is an uneducated and morally depraved foreign intruder. Thus, he attempts to create a sense of an “in-​civic-​group” consciousness so as to bind himself together with the Athenian audience and implicitly estrange Demosthenes from them.

130  Civic/political identity The fusion of civic spirit/​patriotism and piety with the aim of constructing a communal Athenian identity from which aberrant individual identities can then be excluded is particularly pronounced in Lycurgus 1, Against Leocrates, and in the speeches evidencing the feud between Aeschines (1, 2, 3)  and Demosthenes (18, 19). Two good examples from Lycurgus are as follows: Λεωκράτης δὲ τούτων οὐδενὸς φροντίσας, συσκευασάμενος ἃ εἶχε χρήματα, μετὰ τῶν οἰκετῶν ἐπὶ τὸν λέμβον κατεκόμισε, τῆς νεὼς ἤδη περὶ τὴν ἀκτὴν ἐξορμούσης, καὶ περὶ δείλην ὀψίαν αὐτὸς μετὰ τῆς ἑταίρας Εἰρηνίδος κατὰ μέσην τὴν ἀκτὴν διὰ τῆς πυλίδος ἐξελθὼν πρὸς τὴν ναῦν προσέπλευσε καὶ ᾤχετο φεύγων, οὔτε τοὺς λιμένας τῆς πόλεως ἐλεῶν ἐξ ὧν ἀνήγετο, οὔτε τὰ τείχη τῆς πατρίδος αἰσχυνόμενος ὧν τὴν φυλακὴν ἔρημον τὸ καθ᾽ αὑτὸν μέρος κατέλιπεν:  οὐδὲ τὴν ἀκρόπολιν καὶ τὸ ἱερὸν τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ σωτῆρος καὶ τῆς Ἀθηνᾶς τῆς σωτείρας ἀφορῶν καὶ προδιδοὺς ἐφοβήθη, οὓς αὐτίκα σώσοντας ἑαυτὸν ἐκ τῶν κινδύνων ἐπικαλεῖται. Leocrates ignored all these provisions. He collected what belongings he had and with his slaves’ assistance placed them in the ship’s boat, the ship itself being already anchored off the shore. Late in the evening he went out himself with his mistress Irenis through the postern gate on to the open beach and sailed out to the ship. And so he disappeared, a deserter, untouched by pity for the city’s harbours from which he was putting out to sea, and unashamed in face of the walls which, for his own part, he left undefended. Looking back at the Acropolis and the temple of Zeus the Savior and Athena the Protectress, which he had betrayed, he had no fear, though he will presently call upon these gods to save him from danger. (Lycurgus 1. 16–17) Λεωκράτης δ᾽ οὔτε νομίμων οὔτε πατρίδος3 οὔθ᾽ ἱερῶν φροντίσας τὸ καθ᾽ ἑαυτὸν ἐξαγώγιμον ὑμῖν καὶ τὴν παρὰ τῶν θεῶν βοήθειαν ἐποίησε. καὶ οὐκ ἐξήρκεσεν αὐτῷ τοσαῦτα καὶ τηλικαῦτα τὴν πόλιν ἀδικῆσαι, ἀλλ᾽ οἰκῶν ἐν Μεγάροις, οἷς παρ᾽ ὑμῶν ἐξεκομίσατο χρήμασιν ἀφορμῇ χρώμενος, ἐκ τῆς Ἠπείρου παρὰ Κλεοπάτρας εἰς Λευκάδα ἐσιτήγει καὶ ἐκεῖθεν εἰς Κόρινθον. By disregarding custom, country, and sacred images Leocrates did all in his power to cause even your divine protection to be exported. Moreover, to have wronged the city on this enormous scale was not enough for him. Living at Megara and using as capital the money which he had withdrawn from Athens he shipped corn, bought from Cleopatra, from Epirus to Leucas and from there to Corinth. (Lycurgus 1.26) In both passages, Lycurgus assigns to Leocrates a double negative identity: a traitor to the polis and an enemy of the gods. In fact, he makes clear that it was Leocrates’ treason that ignited the hostility of the gods against the offender.

Civic/political identity  131 Lycurgus, in a sense, makes the gods members of the Athenian community, whose prerogatives the traitor threatens, in the same way as traitors imperil their fellow citizens and other elements of the community at large. The same rhetoric about the gods being part of the civic community is also observed elsewhere in Attic oratory, as in Dinarchus 3.21, where the judges are told that their vote concerns “the whole country”, under which Dinarchus includes the shrines of the gods, ancestral traditions and the ancestral constitution.50 Another example of the fusion between patriotism and piety that draws attention to aberrant identities and alienates them from the community can be found in 19.247, where Demosthenes identifies Aeschines with Creon (“well, look what words are these that have been put by the poet into the mouth of Creon-​Aeschines in this play”). By identifying Aeschines with a tyrant, Demosthenes “is appealing to a fear of subversion which persisted, albeit in an attenuated form long after the revolutions of the late fifth century”.51 In this way, he strives to create in the audience a negative disposition towards Aeschines that would ultimately influence its voting behaviour in the law court. This end is also achieved, I argue, by the construction of Aeschines’ religious identity through his identification with Creon. Impiety is one of the three traditional hallmarks of the tyrant in Greek literature (together with distrust of associates and greed).52 References to political opponents, both within and outside Athens (e.g. the implicit presentation of Philip as tyrant in Demosthenes’ Second Olynthiac 18–​19 on the grounds that he not only distrusts, but also kills his associates),53 aim to capitalize on impiety and instigate the people’s hostility against the target of criticism. The presentation of opponents as being inimical towards the gods can also be found in Demosthenes 19.299. An example of prosōpopoeia, i.e. the act of having an abstract, imagined or absent entity speaking,54 marks this passage out: Demosthenes puts a forcible exhortation into the mouths of Zeus, Dione and all the gods, who allegedly urge the law court audience: ἅπασι τοίνυν μιᾷ γνώμῃ παρακελεύεται κολάζειν τοὺς ὑπηρετηκότας τι τοῖς ἐχθροῖς ὁ Ζεύς, ἡ Διώνη, πάντες οἱ θεοί. ἔξωθεν οἱ ἐπιβουλεύοντες, ἔνδοθεν οἱ συμπράττοντες. οὐκοῦν τῶν ἐπιβουλευόντων μὲν ἔργον διδόναι, τῶν συμπραττόντων δὲ λαμβάνειν καὶ τοὺς εἰληφότας ἐκσῴζειν. Therefore, you are all exhorted by Zeus, by Dione, by all the gods, to punish with one mind those who have made themselves the servants of your enemies. Without are the aggressors, within are the collaborators. It is the business of foes to give bribes, of traitors to take bribes, and to rescue those who have taken them. (Demosthenes 19.299) With this clever merging of politics and religion, Demosthenes aims to raise the suspicions of the audience towards his political opponents, who are skillfully presented as being guilty of the twin crimes of betraying the city and the gods. In fact, by having the gods ask the Athenians who were present in the

132  Civic/political identity law court (both judges and onlookers) to punish the traitors of the polis, the speaker cleverly attempts to create a group that is defined by the adherence of the Athenians both to an idealized civic spirit/​patriotism and to religion. At the same time, he aims to present his opponents in such a way as to illustrate their rejection of the interconnected values of patriotism and piety, thereby excluding them from the goodwill of the audience. In Demosthenes’ words elsewhere in the speech On the Crown: “it really amazes me if you are going to let off unpunished the man who prevented even the traditional honouring of the gods” (19.86: ὃ καὶ θαυμάζω, εἰ τὸν μηδὲ τοὺς θεούς, καθ’ ὃ πάτριον ἦν, τιμᾶσθαι ποιήσαντα, τοῦτον ἀτιμώρητον ἀφήσετε). The strong interconnection between piety and patriotism, and the masterly fusion of political with religious space in Attic oratory are a means of constructing a communal Athenian identity from which aberrant individual identities can then be excluded. As G. Westwood notes, prosōpopoeia is: A means of inviting the audience to consider the virtues and values of a figure or figures [in this case, the gods], usually in contrast with those of an opponent, and also the validation of a speaker’s credibility as a public performer. (Westwood (2017) 57) If it is forceful to have a historical or mythical figure speak, it is, arguably, much more forceful to have the gods exhort people to punish opponents because they are traitors to the polis and its people. People’s unrelenting toughness towards impious individuals is also loudly indicated by the establishment of a series of legal punishments in Athens. During the classical period, the close association of impiety and treason in Athenian civic ideology was reflected in the institutional responses to these crimes. That those convicted for religious offences regularly received the death penalty in Athens is worth noting (cf. Andocides 1.68; Demosthenes 24.7), but, given that death was also legally prescribed for offences such as theft and kidnapping under certain circumstances, it does not tell us much about the distinct gravity of impiety in Athens.55 More telling is the grouping of temple-​ robbery (ἱεροσυλία) and treason (προδοσία) under one law, as referenced in Xenophon’s account of the trial of the Arginusae generals in 407/​406 BC (Hellenica 1.7.22). The law, according to the speaker Euryptolemus, prescribed for either offence penalties of confiscation of property and denial of burial in Attica.56 D. M. MacDowell conjectures that they were perhaps contained under one statute because the punishment was deemed appropriate for either offence, but he does not further explain why the punishment seemed appropriate for these offences.57 In my view, the statutory grouping of the two offences indicates their equally perceived significance as constituting existential threats to the community. Just as the treasonous no longer properly belonged to the community they had betrayed, so those who had offended

Civic/political identity  133 the cults of their community were absolutely sundered from the community formed by those cults. The construction of identities, as indicated by the examples discussed in this section, is twofold: the ideal collective identity, defined by the love of the Athenians for the physical and religious constituents of the polis, e.g. the land and the shrines, is sharply contrasted with the identities assigned to the adversaries of the speakers, e.g. as traitors to the polis and enemies of the gods.58 These two labels are bound together to help triangulate the relations in the forums of public speaking: the speaker refers to, talks about and undermines his opponent, with the aim of creating a particular disposition in the audience towards both of them –​positive for the speaker and negative for his opponent.

Heroes and statesmen in religious discourse The same contrast between ideal and aberrant identities is also examined in this section. There is, however, a slight difference from the pattern examined in the previous section in that the dichotomy is set up between ideal and aberrant individual identities, rather than between communal and individual identities. The ideal identities embody collectivity by exemplifying the interconnected collective values of piety, law and morality, but the contrast is between idealized individuals such as heroes and statesmen, and depraved individuals. The importance of these figures for religion and for the construction of communal identity is a well-​explored phenomenon.59 Heroes and respected statesmen, and the stories told about them, frame a community’s consciousness, worldview and perception of the past. As J. Mayer pointed out: [They] are seen as exemplars of the community ideal and they attain (semi)divine status in the worldviews of those who are imagined as their descendants. Constructing myths around the stories of heroic figures is a straightforward means to streamline a complex history into a simple and instructive narrative. Heroic figures carry preconceived associations that can be easily attached to new narratives, and the form of the epic or other heroic narrative is an entertaining and easily memorable structure to transmit and perpetuate understandings of the community’s past. (Mayer (2011) 15–​16) An example of an individual who embodies the ideals of the community is the ruler, statesman and lawgiver, references to whom can be found mostly in Isocrates’ orations. Kings and leaders were expected to be not only efficient and effective, honourable and merciful, but also pious and respectful of the gods; the myths and stories told about heroic kings reflected these perceptions of leadership and helped to simplify and dramatize the story of a community’s past with the aim of redefining its place in the world.60 Orators also claim that their fellow-​ citizens administer their civic and personal

134  Civic/political identity affairs righteously and honourably, as was to be expected of men who were descended from the gods (cf. Isocrates, Panegyricus 84; Panathenaicus 124). This section explores the references to heroes and statesmen (i.e. leaders and lawgivers) that are connected with religious discourse. It seeks to show how religious references to heroes and statesmen are used as a means of forging or sustaining communal identity, and then contrasting this with aberrant identities in order to help the speaker to achieve his political or rhetorical purposes at a given moment in time. References to heroes and statesmen fall largely into two major categories:  references made in times of crisis of all sorts (e.g. political, military), aiming to (re)construct communal identity and provide hope for the future; and aggressive references with the purpose of attacking the enemies of the speaker or of the community. Two preliminary remarks can be made about these references to heroes and statesmen in Attic oratory:  they are only a few  –​I  counted only 18 instances in the totality of Attic speeches that have come down to us in a textual form –​and they are distributed across all three genres of oratory, but not evenly. That is to say that there are more references in epideictic orations (especially those of Isocrates and in the Erotic Essay 30 that is attributed to Demosthenes) than in forensic (as in Demosthenes 18.127) or symbouleutic speeches (as in Demosthenes 3.26). References to leaders made in time of crisis can be found in Demosthenes’ Olynthiac 3.  The speech (together with the other two Olynthiac speeches) seeks to persuade the Athenians to take action against Philip, who, by 348 BC, had attacked Olynthus, a city of Chalcidice that was at that time an ally of Athens.61 In the time of this political and military crisis provoked by the alarming rise of Philip in Hellenic affairs, Demosthenes refers at 3.26 to two distinguished Athenian leaders, Aristides and Miltiades: ὥστε τὴν Ἀριστείδου καὶ τὴν Μιλτιάδου καὶ τῶν τότε λαμπρῶν οἰκίαν εἴ τις ἄρ᾽ οἶδεν ὑμῶν ὁποία ποτ᾽ ἐστίν, ὁρᾷ τῆς τοῦ γείτονος οὐδὲν σεμνοτέραν οὖσαν:  οὐ γὰρ εἰς περιουσίαν ἐπράττετ᾽ αὐτοῖς τὰ τῆς πόλεως, ἀλλὰ τὸ κοινὸν αὔξειν ἕκαστος ᾤετο δεῖν. ἐκ δὲ τοῦ τὰ μὲν Ἑλληνικὰ πιστῶς, τὰ δὲ πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς εὐσεβῶς, τὰ δ᾽ ἐν αὑτοῖς ἴσως διοικεῖν μεγάλην εἰκότως ἐκτήσαντ᾽ εὐδαιμονίαν. The houses of their famous men, of Aristides and Miltiades, as any of you can see that knows them, are not a whit more splendid than those of their neighbours. For selfish greed had no place in their statesmanship, but each thought it his duty to further the common weal. And so by their good faith towards their fellow Greeks, their piety towards the gods, and their equality among themselves, they deserved and won a great prosperity. (Olynthiac 3.26) Demosthenes merges religion with the political space, underlining the mixture of virtues that won Aristides and Miltiades their eternal reputation: not

Civic/political identity  135 only political and moral, but also religious –​“their piety towards the gods”. By choosing to refer specifically to these two historical Athenian statesmen, Demosthenes invites the Athenians to identify themselves with Aristides and Miltiades and all they represent, including piety. This attempted identification of the Athenian civic body with the idealized example of the two statesmen of the past is important because, as B. Steinbock points out, referring to the presentation in Lycurgus 1 of the historical example of King Codrus: Devotion to the city’s gods and heroes and knowledge of their mythology were essential parts of the training of young Athenians in the institution of the ephēbeia. [They] served thereby as role models of civic virtue and as focal points of tribal and age-​set identity. (Steinbock (2011) 282) Stories from myth and Athenian history have, in other words, an educational function for the Athenians, as Lycurgus points out in Against Leocrates 83 (“I wish to remind you of a few short tales of old, consulting with which you will reach a better verdict concerning this case and others”).62 Demosthenes, in the context of 3.26, subtly draws on the heroic reputation of the two leaders of the Athenian past, urging the Athenians in the “here and now” of his speech to imitate their example by fighting against the Macedonians. In periods of crisis, people tend to look to the past for reassurance and hope for the future. Especially in times of momentous and catastrophic changes, people reassess their identities and often reinterpret their history to define themselves anew. This is exactly what Demosthenes attempts to do in 3.26:  to reinterpret the identity of the Athenian community. He presents the political, moral and religious virtues of Aristides and Miltiades as the glue that keeps the polis together and forms the collective identity of people across the ages. The two men’s solidarity for their fellow-​Hellenes and their piety are virtues that define who the Athenians are, and distinguish them from the barbarians, as both the Persians and the Macedonians were. For, as Isocrates points out scathingly in Panathenaicus 123, Athenians “were not of the same character as those who have proved themselves the most godless of men” (cf. Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 15 and Isocrates, Plataicus 60).63 With this subtle twofold analogy –​i.e. Aristides, Miltiades and the Athenians; the Persians and the Macedonians –​Demosthenes aims to sharpen the determination of the Athenians to stand up to Philip. The reference, in this context, to the piety of Aristides and Miltiades is meaningful within the political context of 348 BC, when the relations between Athens and Macedon steadily worsened and Demosthenes urged his fellow Athenians to take immediate action against them. Many times in his Olynthiac speeches, Demosthenes uses religion to construct the identity of the King of Macedon, Philip II, in ways that would estrange him from the goodwill of the Athenians. The king is accused of being inimical to the gods: he is called, for example, a perjurer and faithless in 2.5 (ἐπίορκον κἄπιστον), a perpetrator

136  Civic/political identity of injustice and perjury in 2.10 (ἀδικοῦντα κἀπιορκοῦντα), with Demosthenes pointing out, in 2.22, that the Athenians “have far greater claims than he upon the favour of the gods” (πολὺ γὰρ πλείους ἀφορμὰς εἰς τὸ τὴν παρὰ τῶν θεῶν εὔνοιαν ἔχειν ὁρῶ ὑμῖν ἐνούσας ἢ ‘κείνῳ). As a perjurer, Philip was not only inimical to the gods, but also subject to their punishment. The emphasis on the piety of Aristides and Miltiades in 3.26 is starkly contrasted to Philip’s impiety as repeatedly mentioned in Demosthenes’ Olynthiac speeches. Demosthenes aims to encourage the Athenians to see their fight against the Macedonians as being supported by the gods, as were their leaders of yesteryear in the fight against the Persians. After all, the fight against the barbarians is blessed by the gods, as Demosthenes himself points out in the exordium of his second Olynthiac speech (2.1),64 and as we also know from other sources (e.g. Isocrates 4.84; 5.137).65 References to Athenian leaders and statesmen of the past, in sections where implications for the fight of the Athenians against barbarians have (subtly) been exploited, can also be found in Aeschines 3.257–​259. It is notable, however, that in this context references to leaders are marked by the attempt of the speaker to manipulate them, in order to attack and undermine opponents  –​i.e., Demosthenes and Ctesiphon. References have been made to Aristides (who is also mentioned in Demosthenes 3.26), Solon the lawgiver and Themistocles the politician and general, who fought against the Persians. The reference to Arthmius of Zeleia, who was instructed by Xerxes to bring the gold of Persia into Greece and barely escaped death in Athens,66 works most as an identification example: the Athenians are urged to punish Demosthenes, the bribe-​taker, as their ancestors threatened to punish Arthmius, the Persian gold-​transporter –​the latter resembles the former (e.g. Aeschines 3.156, Dinarchus 1.77 and Hypereides 5.3 where Demosthenes is also accused of receiving foreign gold). The other references create a punchy antithesis between Demosthenes and the ancestors of civic virtue and military glory: Aeschines calls upon the judges to imagine that Aristides, Solon and Themistocles are among them, in the there and then of the trial, and condemn Demosthenes. There is, in the context of Aeschines’ speech, no explicit or direct use of religious discourse. But it is, arguably, implicit: piety is one of the distinctive traits of Aristides’ personal and civic identity, as mentioned above; Solon is presented as urging the Athenians to keep faith in the oaths and laws, not in the beguiling words of Demosthenes (δεόμενον ὑμῶν μηδενὶ τρόπῳ τοὺς Δημ οσθένους λόγους περὶ πλείονος ποιήσασθαι τῶν ὅρκων καὶ τῶν νόμων); while Themistocles, who fought against the Persians, would have the Athenians think that he is blessed by the gods, as Isocrates claims that all the fighters against enemies are (4.84; 5.137), a point also implicitly made in 3.88 by Aeschines, who claims that the gods saved the Athenian troops. Aeschines, through these references, asks the law court audience to realize that the common Athenian identity is constructed around the emblematic religious and civic/​political identities of statesmen of the past, against the civically,

Civic/political identity  137 politically and religiously lame identity of Demosthenes, as it is presented in Aeschines 3 (cf. in §§77, 99 where Demosthenes is accused of fabricating stories and making fallacious references to the gods to cheat people, §§106–​ 113 where he is presented as committing impiety towards the Delphi shrine, §208 where he is accused of perjury, etc.). Another example of a negative comparison between the ideal statesmen or heroes and the orator’s opponents can be found in Demosthenes 18.127, which parodies Aeschines’ piety-​oriented and tragedy-​echoing conclusion in 3.260 as discussed above:67 εἰ γὰρ Αἰακὸς ἢ Ῥαδάμανθυς ἢ Μίνως ἦν ὁ κατηγορῶν, ἀλλὰ μὴ σπερμολόγ ος, περίτριμμ’ ἀγορᾶς, ὄλεθρος γραμματεύς οὐκ ἂν αὐτὸν οἶμαι ταῦτ’ εἰπεῖν οὐδ’ ἂν οὕτως ἐπαχθεῖς λόγους πορίσασθαι, ὥσπερ ἐν τραγῳδίᾳ βοῶντα ‘ὦ γῆ καὶ ἥλιε καὶ ἀρετὴ’ καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα. If the prosecutor was Aeacus, or Rhadamanthus, or Minos and not a sponger, a common scoundrel, a damned clerk, I do not believe he would have spoken that way or produced such repulsive expressions, bellowing as if on the tragic stage, “O earth and sun and virtue” and such like. (Demosthenes 18.127) Demosthenes here offers perhaps the most succinct description of Aeschines’ identity:  namely the complete opposite of what the ancients think about Aeacus, Rhadamanthus and Minos, not only because he has moral vices (i.e. as a sponger and scoundrel), but also because of his impiety and his propensity for lawlessness. The comparison of Aeschines with Aeacus, Minos and Rhadamanthus can be seen, I  argue, as a hint to the former’s impiety. The most important attribute of Minos and Rhadamanthus in a range of Attic oratorical sources is piety. In Isocrates’ Panathenaicus 204, for example, both figures are praised on account of their “practice of reverence in relation to the gods and of justice in relation to mankind and of wisdom in relation to all activities in general”. Similar references are also made in Isocrates 9.14, where a story is told about people seeking to obtain relief from Aeacus because of his piety,68 and in the Erotic Essay 30 that is attributed to Demosthenes: “Aeacus and Rhadamanthus were beloved by the gods for their discretion”. Given that Aeschines is presented in Demosthenes 18.127 as the absolute opposite of Minos and Rhadamanthus, he is (tacitly, but still masterly, in context) presented as personifying impiety. The implication, in Demosthenes 18.127, of Aeschines being the personification of lawlessness seems to have escaped the notice of scholars. Given that Aeschines is the absolute opposite of Aeacus, Rhadamanthus and Minos, whose judicial and lawgiving role is underlined in ancient sources, the criticism against Aeschines may also acquire a (tacit) legal dimension. As a reward for their dispensation of justice, the three brothers, sons of Zeus and Europa, were made judges in the Underworld after their deaths.69 Plato presents Minos

138  Civic/political identity as conferring with Zeus, his father, to create the laws of Crete (Laws 624a–​b),70 citing him as an example of a lawgiver who had correctly ordered divine and human virtues in his city. Plato also discusses Rhadamanthus in relation to the laws of his city, praising, in Laws 948b–​c, the manner in which he evaluated legal complaints. Gorgias 523e–​524a, 526c and Republic 41a also emphasize the judicial roles and legal administration of Minos and Rhadamanthus. The two brothers are also mentioned in the pseudo-​Platonic dialogue Minos as being rulers,71 and the source of the admirable Cretan legislation (318c–​d and 320a–​c).72 In short, Minos was the embodiment of a virtuously educated ruler, and his laws were responsible for the success of Crete and, indirectly through Lycurgus (318c–​d), of Sparta. Rhadamanthus served as the arbitrator of the justice established by Minos’ legislation. Beyond Minos and Rhadamanthus, there are also several references in Attic oratory to other hero-​kings. There is a list of references in Isocrates’ orations: Evagoras is praised for his piety (9.28), his descent from Zeus (9.81) and the love that the gods bestow upon him (9.70); Theseus is also praised for his piety (10.31) and his close relationship with the divine (10.20, 47);73 and Busiris is mentioned as having origins from Zeus (11.10). There is a paradox behind these references: they are all concerned with hero-​kings. This poses a question about the impact of Isocrates’ speeches upon the identity of the democratic community. I  would not side with W.  Jaeger in arguing that Isocrates tries “to transform tyranny into a ‘gentler constitution’ ”.74 It is highly likely that, as C. Atack argues: Athenian writers such as Isocrates could cite their heritage of kingship to position their democratic city as equivalent or superior to rising ethnos-​ state monarchies such as Macedon, and citizens could be exhorted to imitate the virtuous deeds of kings presented as exemplary individuals, rather than those of the collective heroized citizenry of earlier democratic rhetoric. (Atack (2014) 331) Isocrates takes over the role of the people’s adviser and offers them a good example of political/​communal and personal ethos to follow, in an era of democratic decadence.

Conclusions This chapter has offered a comprehensive, interdisciplinary and updated examination of the strategies of religious discourse and identity construction employed by the Attic orators to persuade the audience by determining its relationship with himself and with his opponent, thereby creating civic and religious groupings. After surveying influential theories about identity in interdisciplinary bibliography, and how identity is constructed in several

Civic/political identity  139 contexts, I  explored two ways in which orators exploit the overlap between religion and the polis: first, references to the interconnection between religion and civic spirit/​patriotism; and second, the religious undertones of references to ideal statesmen and mythical heroes. These two features of the oratorical intersection of religion and the polis can be further broken down into a number of rhetorical devices: (1) Addresses to the audience in passages where religion is prominent, a topic that merits more thorough examination in classical scholarship; (2) References to the physical constituents and the mental/​abstract qualities of the identities that adhere to the community in contrast to those that do not belong to it; (3) The presentation of opponents as tyrants, which, as argued, has religious dimensions; (4) References to political and legal misdeeds, such as temple-​robbery and treason; (5) The creation of a collective civic and religious identity through the exploitation of examples of ideal statesmen of the past and mythical heroes, and the contrast of the collective identity with aberrant individual identities. Through the examination of these features, new light has been shed on the ways in which persuasion is achieved in the Athenian decision-​making forums. It has been argued that the use of religious discourse for identity construction is designed to sustain a group to which the speaker and the audience belong, and from which the opponents are excluded, as social identity theory indicates. There are two overarching observations that can be made: the first is about the uneven distribution of references. It is notable, for example, that references to the interconnection between religious discourse and civic spirit/​patriotism can be found both in forensic and in epideictic oratory. References to heroes and statesmen are distributed across all genres of oratory, with the majority, however, being accumulated in epideictic oratory. This is not surprising, if one considers that, while both forensic and symbouleutic speeches are concerned with political matters and, in the case of the former, criminal actions of the past, epideictic oratory explores versions of myths and fuses them with history to praise the city or to exalt the great deeds and affairs of individuals.75 The second observation we can make is that the exploitation in religious discourse of references to several aspects of individual and communal identity sheds welcome light on the ways in which the legal system and the cultural, socio-​political and moral codes of life worked in the Athens of the fourth century. Invaluable information is offered in the extant speeches of Attic oratory regarding the ways in which the interrelation between two pairs of notions, i.e. impiety-​illegality and piety-​patriotism, was displayed in Athens.

140  Civic/political identity

Notes 1 Readings include, but are not limited to, the following:  Christ (2006) on the civic/​political identity of a bad citizen; Liddel (2007) on the civic obligations in Athens; Lape (2010) on race and citizen identity; Blok (2013) 161–​175 (with a few references to religion); Brock and Duplouy (2018) with chapters on civic identity in Archaic Greece; Filonik, Griffith-​Williams and Kucharski (2019) with several chapters discussing socio-​political, institutional, gender and other aspects of identity-​making. 2 Filonik (2017) 247–​249. Also: Liddel (2007) 133–​136, 300–​308 on piety as one of the obligations of citizens in Athens; Bonnechere (2013) 366–​382 on the use of oracles in decision-​making processes; Lozano (2017) 283–​301 on the use of religion for the formation of Roman citizenship. 3 Serafim (2019) 233–​253. 4 Clifford (1988) 344. 5 Hall (1989). 6 Wendt (1992) 397. 7 Deng (1995) 1. 8 Jenkins (1996) 4. 9 See also: Taylor (1994) 25–​73; İnaç and Ünal (2013) 223; Hicks (2014) 10–​15. 10 Bourdieu (1977) 82–​3. 11 Bourdieu (1990 [1980]). 12 Mauss (1979) 97–​123. 13 Goffman (1959). 14 Butler (1986) 35–​49; (1990) 129. 15 Tajfel and Turner (1979). Also: Miller et al. (1981) 494–​511; Conover (1984) 760–​ 85; Lau (1989) 220–​23; Carey (1990) 49; Huddy (2003) 511–​58; Hall (2006) 388; Arena (2007) 151. 16 Cf. Lycurgus 1.150: “if you acquit Leocrates, you will vote for the betrayal of the city, of its temples and its fleet”; Isocrates 1.13: “first of all, then, show devotion to the gods, not merely by doing sacrifice, but also by keeping your vows; for the former is but evidence of a material prosperity, whereas the latter is proof of a noble character. Do honour to the divine power at all times, but especially on occasions of public worship; for thus you will have the reputation both of sacrificing to the gods and of abiding by the laws”. 17 Introduction, pp. 12–13. 18 Mol (1976); (1979) 11–​38; Seul (1999) 553–​68. 19 Lee (2002) 369–​384; King (2003) 196–​203; King and Boyatzis (2004) 2–​6; Arweck and Nesbitt (2010) 67–​87. 20 Durkheim (2001 [1917]) 43; Bellah (1967) 1–​21; Coleman (1970) 67–​77; Thomas and Flippen (1972) 218–​225; Hammond (1976) 169–​182; Derrida (1998) 1–​78; Argyle (2000) 116–​117. 21 Rousseau (1960 [1762]). 22 Sourvinou-​Inwood (1990) 318; (2000) 51. 23 Plamper et al. (2010) 253; also Rosenwein (2002) 821–​45, (2006). 24 Rosenwein (2006) 842. 25 Chroust (1954) 280–​288. Also: Nathanson (1993) 34–​35 who defines patriotism as entailing “special affection for one’s own country, a sense of personal identification

Civic/political identity  141 with the country, special concern for the well-​being of the country and willingness to sacrifice to promote the country’s good”. 26 See Introduction, pp. 0–​0. 27 Crowley (2012) 121. 28 Moskos (1980); Padgett (1980) 55–​77; Reitz (1980); Goldhill (1990) 97–​129; Conor (1996) 217–​226. 29 Blok (2014) 16. 30 Schaar (1981); Viroli (1995); Ben-​Amos and Bar-​Tal (2004) 13–​28; Lewin (2010). 31 Dover (1974) 250–​251. 32 Parker (2005) 454. 33 Martin (2009). 34 On the same issue also: Serafim (2017a) 55–​60. 35 The speakers have at their disposal a choice of three main styles of address: civic (ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι), judicial (ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί) and descriptive (ὦ ἄνδρες). The addresses ὦ Ἀθηναῖοι and ὦ δικασταί are not counted separately from the standard forms of address. For, as Martin (2006) 76 argues, these variations are probably due to mistakes made by scribes, when reproducing the text of the speeches by hand. Also: Serafim (2017b) 26–​41. 36 On the use of addresses to the audience in Attic forensic oratory: Serafim (forthcoming). 37 See p. 104–106. 38 Aeschines 3.156: “No! By Zeus and the gods, do not, my fellow citizens, do not, I beseech you, set up in the orchestra of Dionysus a memorial of your own defeat; do not in the presence of the Greeks convict the Athenian people of having lost their reason; do not remind the poor Thebans of their incurable and irreparable disasters, men who, exiled through Demosthenes’ acts, found refuge with you, when their shrines and children and tombs had been destroyed by Demosthenes’ taking of bribes and by the Persian gold”. 39 Parker (1996) 252. 40 Lycurgus 1.1:  “If I  have done justly to prosecute Leocrates, if he whom I  now bring to trial has been a traitor to their temples, shrines and precincts, a traitor to the honours which your laws ordain and the sacrificial rituals which your ancestors have handed down”. Lycurgus 1.143: “he will call on the gods to save him from danger. Who are they? Are they not the gods whose temples, altars and precincts he betrayed? He will beg and pray you to pity him”. 41 Cf. Serafim (2017a) 51. 42 “The reason why Athenians could regard themselves as having occupied the same land was because they regarded themselves as descendants of the earth-​ born Erechtheus –​a notion that is first explicitly articulated in Pindar’s Second Isthmian Ode (18–​20), probably to be dated to the 470s BC” (Hall (1997) 54). Cf. Iliad 2.547–​8. The close relationship of the Athenians with earth is also reflected in the myth of divine contest between Athena and Poseidon for the patronage of Attica: “Poseidon was the god of sea, the god ‘who holds the earth’ and the ‘god who shakes the earth’ –​functions incompatible with those who treated earth as their mother. Athena’s victory in the contest judged by Kekrops can thus be viewed as the symbolic reflection of the rejection of Ionian ancestry and the adoption of the myth of autochthony” (Ibid. 55). 43 Loraux (2006) 210.

142  Civic/political identity 44 Plato’s Menexenus 237b provides information about the Athenian claims of autochthony:  “the good birth is in the first place founded in the origin of our ancestors, who, instead of being immigrants and making their descendants metics in the country to which they themselves came as outsiders, were autochthones, really and truly inhabiting their fatherland (ἀλλ’ αὐτόχθονας καὶ τῷ ὄντι ἐν πατρίδι οἰκοῦντας καὶ ζῶντας), raised not as others by a stepmother, but by earth, their mother”. Translation: Loraux (2000) 21. 45 On the emphasis placed on autochthony in epideictic (especially funeral) oratory:  Rosivach (1987) 294–​306; Loraux (1987) 1–​2, 54, 148–​150; (2006) 28–​29, 210–​214, 245–​246; Grethlein (2010) 110–​111. 46 Williams (2009) 24. References to political ἀρετὴ in a variety of ancient sources (e.g. Thucydides 3.38.2–​7; Plato, Protagoras 323a–​29d and elsewhere) indicate that this was considered a key feature of the Athenian civic identity. 47 Wagener (1931) 84. 48 On the suitability of references to one’s noble birth and education –​εὐγένεια καὶ παιδεία –​in praise oratory, see Aristotle’s Rhetoric 1367b27–​30. 49 Dobson (1919) 198. 50 Dinarchus 3.21: “the whole country will be affected by the verdict you are about to give: the shrines which have been erected in it, the age-​long traditions, and the constitution which your ancestors have handed down to you. It is not a question of Philocles alone; for he has condemned himself to death long ago”. 51 Carey (2007) 75; also Harris (2018) 167–​178. As Euripides points out in Suppliant Women 429: “there is nothing more hostile to a city than a tyrant”. The fear of tyranny persisted throughout the classical period and induced the Athenians to pass anti-​tyrannical legislation such as the law of Eucrates (337/​336 BC). 52 Isocrates accuses the Thirty Tyrants for having plundered the temples (Areopagiticus 66). On the matter also: Seaford (2003) 96. 53 Demosthenes, Second Olynthiac 18–​19:  “any of those who have experience in war or battle are cast aside by Philip through envy because he wishes that all achievements belong to him alone as a result of his unsurpassed ambition. If anyone is virtuous or generally honest and cannot stand his decadent life-​style, drunkenness and obscene dancing, he is shoved aside and treated like nobody. The rest of his companions are pirates and flatterers and the sort of men who would perform the sort of drunken dances that I would be reluctant to describe”. Translation: Harris (2018) 169–​170. 54 On prosōpopoeia in Attic oratory, Westwood (2017) 57–​74. 55 Theft by day of more than fifty drachmas, theft by night regardless of value, theft from the Lyceum, the Academy of Kynosargos and theft from the harbour of more than ten drachmas, are punishable by death. See Cohen (1983) 40. 56 Cf. Andocides, On the Mysteries 33 where it is mentioned that punishment in an impiety trial results in the repeal of the right to enter the temples of the gods. The same punishment is levied when impiety is caused by the act of murdering an individual, as Demosthenes 23.40 indicates, referring to the homicide law of Draco (also: IG I3 104). 57 MacDowell (1978) 176. 58 An interesting approach to the process of constructing a collective identity in Rome can be found in Connolly (2007) 231–​6. 59 Carlyle (1908); Smith (1987); Anderson (1991); Geertz (2000).

Civic/political identity  143 60 “Men owed to kings not only their survival, but good order in their lives. It was kingship which represented the principle of just rule, insofar as the aim of rule according to justice is to the benefit of the ruled. Therefore people were willing to accept the leadership of their benefactors” (Bulloch (1993) 7). 61 When the Social War broke out between Athens and its allies (357 BC), Olynthus was at first in alliance with Philip. Subsequently, in alarm at the growth of his power, it formed an alliance with Athens. Olynthus sent three embassies to Athens, the occasions of Demosthenes’ three Olynthiac Orations. On the third, the Athenians sent soldiers from among its citizens. Philip besieged Olynthus in 348 BC. 62 On the educational function of the past in funeral speeches: Grethlein (2010) 119–​ 21; Steinbock (2011) 77. 63 Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 15: “for you must realize, Athenians, that you would be held to have neglected the virtues which chiefly distinguish you from the rest of mankind, piety towards the gods, reverence for your ancestors and ambition for your country, if this man were to escape punishment at your hands”. Isocrates, Plataicus 60:  “and it is right that you should remember both the gods and the heroes who haunt that place and not permit the honors due them to be suppressed; for it was after favourable sacrifice to them that you took upon yourselves a battle so decisive that it established the freedom of both the Thebans and all the other Greeks besides. You must also take some thought of your ancestors and not be negligent of the piety due to them”. 64 Demosthenes 2.1: “on many occasions, men of Athens, one may, I think, recognize the manifest favour of heaven towards our city, and not least at the present crisis. That Philip has found men willing to fight him, situated on his frontiers and possessed of considerable power, above all so determined that they regard any accommodation with him as both delusive and fatal to their own country—​this has all the appearance of a super-​human, a divine beneficence”. 65 Isocrates 4.84:  “methinks some god out of admiration for their valour brought about this war in order that men endowed by nature with such a spirit should not be lost in obscurity nor die without renown, but should be deemed worthy of the same honours as are given to those who have sprung from the gods and are called demi-​gods; for while the gods surrendered the bodies even of their own sons to the doom of nature, yet they have made immortal the memory of their valour”. Isocrates 5.137: “you will best resolve upon this question if you feel that you are summoned to this task, not by my words only, but by your forefathers, by the cowardice of the Persians, and by all who have won great fame and attained the rank of demigods because of their campaigns against the barbarians”. 66 On Arthmius of Zeleia: Cary (1935) 177–​180. 67 See p. 129. 68 Isocrates 9.14: “In the first place Aeacus, son of Zeus and ancestor of the family of the Teucridae, was so distinguished that when a drought visited the Greeks and many persons had perished, and when the magnitude of the calamity had passed all bounds, the leaders of the cities came as suppliants to him; for they thought that, by reason of his kinship with Zeus and his piety, they would most quickly obtain from the gods relief from the woes that afflicted them”. 69 Aeacus is a mythological king of the island of Aegina in the Saronic Gulf. After his death Aeacus becomes one of the three judges in Hades (Ovid, Metamorphoses

144  Civic/political identity 13.25; Horace, Carmen 2.13.22.). In works of art he is represented bearing a sceptre and the keys of Hades (Apollodorus 3.12.6; Pindar, Isthmian Odes 8.47.). Several references to Minos and Rhadamanthus are made in Greek literature. Homer, in Odyssey 19.172–​180, portrays Minos as a monarch whose rule was advised by Zeus. Herodotus and Thucydides also present Minos as king and also as a creator of a Cretan thalassocracy (Herodotus 1.171, 3.122; Thucydides 1.4). 70 Plato, Laws 624a–​b: “Do you then, like Homer, say that Minos used to go every ninth year to hold converse with his father Zeus, and that he was guided by his divine oracles in laying down the laws for your cities?” 71 On the Pseudo-​Platonic Minos: Morrow (1960) 23–​24. 72 Pseudo-​Plato, Minos 320a–​c: “For surely Minos did not, like an inferior person, think one thing and do another, different from what he thought:  no, this intercourse, as I say, was held by means of discussion for education in virtue. Wherefore he ordained for his people these very laws, which have made Crete happy through the length of time, and Sparta happy also, since she began to use them; for they are divine. Rhadamanthus was a good man indeed, for he had been educated by Minos; he had, however, been educated, not in the whole of the kingly art, but in one subsidiary to the kingly, enough for presiding in law courts; so that he was spoken of as a good judge. For Minos used him as guardian of the law in the city, and Talos as the same for the rest of Crete. For Talos thrice a year made a round of the villages, guarding the laws in them, by holding their laws inscribed on brazen tablets, which gave him his name of ‘brazen’ ”. 73 More on Isocrates’ references to Theseus: Atack (2014) 344–​354. 74 Jaeger (1944) 87. 75 Readings on the distinction of oratorical speeches into three matrices of genre, and on the defining features of each one of these matrices:  Ober (1989) 147; Fahnestock (1993) 267–​268; Edwards (1994) 3–​7; Heath (1995) 10–​11; Sheard (1996) 773–​776; Albaladejo (2003) 51–​58; Carey (2007) 236–​252.

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 153

Conclusion

This book has provided the first full and up-​to-​date interdisciplinary examination of a wide range of aspects of religious discourse –​broadly defined as everything that has to do with, or refers to, ancient religion in classical Athens in the fourth century BC –​across the entirety of the transmitted forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations of the Ten Attic Orators. It has explored the similarities and differences in the use of religious discourse in specific texts and contexts, and has shed light on the ways in which religious discourse influenced, determined, shaped or altered people’s attitudes in the forums of public (forensic, political and epideictic) speaking. The book has also discussed influential theories about and interpretative approaches to the intersection between civic spirit/patriotism and religion in classical Athens in the fourth century BC, and the ways in which this intersection helps create political identities. Chapter  1 offers the first in-​depth survey of the main, i.e. the persistent and recurrent, features and manifestations of religious discourse in the whole corpus of Attic oratorical speeches. The surveys of the features and topics of religious discourse in the speeches of each orator, however condensed they are (or seem to be), enable us to reconstruct a coherent overarching picture of the main topics or approaches that each orator relies on in his speeches, thus making possible a deeper appreciation of the use of religious discourse in decision-​making forums, and facilitating the discussion of its importance in the subsequent chapters of this book. The three chapters that followed explored three categories of issues that enable us to better understand the use of religious references in Attic oratory and politics. The first category, in Chapter  2, concerns the use of patterns of religious discourse in specific public speaking contexts and frameworks. Building on the survey of patterns of religious discourse that Chapter  1 offers, Chapter  2 discusses the use of specific patterns of religious discourse in specific oratorical contexts, and examines the means or restrictions that these contexts provide to the speaker. The idea that people behave in a specific way, depending on an accepted and legitimated institutional etiquette that depends on the nature of public speaking (i.e. forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic), sheds light on the ways in which orators in

154 Conclusion classical Athens use specific religiously-​ laden arguments and rhetorical techniques in well-​designated contexts, and only in those contexts. The second area of issues, in Chapter 3, focuses on the examination of the reactions of the speaker and the audience, when religious stimuli are provided in orations. It is argued that there are two categories of reactions: physical/​ sensory (i.e. voice reactions and gesticulation –​everything that has to do with the senses of sight and hearing) and cognitive/​emotional (i.e. the mental disposition that religious discourse inculcates in the audience and the emotions it triggers). It is further argued that patterns of religious discourse, such as prayers, oaths, curses and other invocations to the gods or ritualistic utterances, have a solemn tone that would not have been delivered deadpan, as ancient sources also inform us. It is also indicated how patterns of religious discourse are used by the speakers to stir up emotions in the audience, or to urge them to think in specific ways about the case in the law court or in the Assembly. Religion is used by the speakers either to arouse anxieties, incriminate people for all sorts of misdeeds and marginalize them from the community, reassure people about their own future and that of the community, and/​or create the feeling of security so as to incite people to accept or endorse a policy –​in a nutshell, religious discourse is used as a means of affecting the mental and emotional dispositions of the audience. This cognitive and emotional use of religious discourse is argued to have offered a tacit surrogate for the audit process: since the judges were not subject to the state process of examination of accounts (euthynai or euthyna), to mention that the omnipresent and omniscient gods inspect those who are going to make a decision is to try to control them and minimize the level of arbitrariness in their decision-​making. The third and final area of issues that this book explores, in Chapter  4, refers to and sheds more light on how religious discourse is used for identity construction in forensic, symbouleutic and epideictic orations. Chapter 4 explores, specifically, references to the interconnection between religion and civic spirit/​ patriotism, and the religious connotations of, or implications for, the references to ideal statesmen and mythical heroes – figures who are presented as embodying the Athenian community. The orators construct an ideal communal identity that is defined by the adherence of the Athenians both to an idealized civic spirit/​patriotism and to religion. At the same time, they construct the identity of their opponents in such a way as to illustrate their rejection of the values of patriotism and piety that mark the communal identity, thereby excluding them from the goodwill of the audience. This book, exploring a wide range of aspects of religious discourse in the entirety of the extant Attic oratorical speeches, enhances scholarly knowledge and understanding of both ancient oratory and religious discourse, as it enables scholars to answer the following important questions:  how, specifically, does religious discourse help to create a group or a community of people? What cognitive dispositions does religious discourse create in the audience, and what emotional reactions does it trigger? And are there any differences in the form, the features and the purposes of religious discourse in

Conclusion  155 different public speaking contexts? Examination of religious discourse and its significance in public speaking urges us to pay closer attention to the fabric of Greek religion as having civic/​political, rhetorical and persuasive dimensions. A fuller appreciation of the complicated interrelationship between religion and socio-​political units of life in classical Athens contributes to a more complete understanding of ancient Greek persuasion, and such an understanding serves to advance our overall knowledge of the growing popular sovereignty and deliberative decision-​making processes in different institutional contexts in classical Athens. The use of the latest interdisciplinary (e.g. psychological and sociological) theories to understand the communicative and persuasive function of religious discourse in the context of Athenian democracy provides insights into broader cultural and societal frameworks. A caveat is necessary at this point: this book does not pretend to be the final word on the use of religious discourse in classical antiquity, but seeks rather to establish a framework within which religious discourse in other kinds of rhetoric, or in rhetoric of other eras and cultures, might be further explored. Topics that deserve better, more meticulous and in-​depth examination include, for example, the use of religious discourse in oratorical speeches that are incorporated in genres such as historiography and epic. Comparative examination between judicial and political rhetoric, on the one hand, and literary rhetoric, on the other, would enable us to understand better the impact that the framework has upon the use of rhetorical stratagems for persuasive reasons. This book also aims to instigate, encourage and provide methodological and exegetical tools to support further investigation of the ways in which religious discourse was used in public speaking beyond fourth-​century BC Athens. Particular emphasis should be placed on the features and the purposes of religious discourse in other cultures and periods (i.e. Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine), and their relationship with the use of religious discourse in the extant speeches of classical Athenian oratory. A few studies explore aspects of the relationship between religious discourse and rhetoric, as manifested in Latin literature. J. Pollini’s book, From Republic to Empire:  Rhetoric, Religion, and Power in the Visual Culture of Ancient Rome, for example, examines important material evidence ranging from the late Republic to the early Imperial period, e.g. the cultural, social and religious connotations of ancestral wax masks; various types of heroic and divine imagery of deified leaders; and various iconographic types of Octavian/​Augustus.1 While there have been studies on Roman speeches more overtly concerned with religious rhetoric, there have been fewer studies on the speeches made in legal or political contexts. 2 Cicero’s Catilinarian speeches, for example, known for their political importance, historical value to the period and rhetorical craft receive less coverage for Cicero’s often direct references to Roman religious ideals.3 A few other studies have explored issues in a variety of texts, contexts and times (e.g. Hellenistic and Roman),4 while some others focus on postclassical religious rhetoric in both the pagan and Christian worlds.5

156 Conclusion The high Roman Empire and the era of Late Antiquity are periods of transition in politics and in religion alike, often in tandem. As the political crisis of the Roman Empire in the third century AD unravelled and Christianity gradually became a prominent religious movement with a successfully developing mechanism of expansion, rhetoric was increasingly used to signal the interlocking of religion and politics to eager audiences. Classical rhetoric, already employed in the Hellenistic era to corroborate the religious foundations of the Hellenistic monarchs in order to solidify their power and guarantee public order, is adopted by the Romans, and inspires Christianity leadership, as Roman religion was evolving and assuming a hierarchy and a structure much more homogeneous and kindred to that of the political status quo. This tight intersection of rhetoric, religion and politics in Late Antiquity has attracted considerable attention in recent decades, and relevant bibliography is available.6 A volume edited by the author of this book, focusing particularly on the use of religious discourse in postclassical texts and contexts of rhetoric, is in preparation, but more work would still be useful and welcome.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6

Pollini (2012). Feeney (1998); Beard, North and Price (1998); Ando (2008). Goar (1972); Lennon (2010) 427–​445; Sauer (2013); Spencer (2013). Hoz (2017) 187–​220. Pernot (2005) 235–​254. See, for example, Swain (1996); Cameron (1991); Ayers and Jones (1998); Cain and Lenski (2009); Digeser, Stephens and Frakes (2010).

Bibliography Ando, C. (2008). The Matter of the Gods: Religion and the Roman Empire. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ayers, L. and G. Jones (1998). Christian Origins: Theology, Rhetoric and Community. London and New York: Routledge. Beard, M., J. North and S. Price (1998). Religions of Rome. Volume 1:  A History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cain, A. and N. Lenski (2009). The Power of Religion in Late Antiquity. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing. Cameron, A. (1991). Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire:  The Development of Christian Discourse. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press. Digeser, E., J. Stephens and R. Frakes (2010). The Rhetoric of Power in Late Antiquity. London: I. B. Tauris. Feeney, D. (1998). Literature and Religion at Rome:  Cultures, Contexts, and Beliefs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Goar, R. (1972). Cicero and the State Religion. Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert. Hoz, M. P. de (2017). Religious Discourse in Hellenistic and Roman Times: Content Topoi in Greek Epigraphic Cult Foundations and Sacred Norms. Kernos, 30, pp. 187–​220.

Conclusion  157 Lennon, J. (2010). Pollution and Ritual Impurity in Cicero’s de Domo Sua. The Classical Quarterly, 60, pp. 427–​445. Pernot, L. (2005). The Rhetoric of Religion. Rhetorica, 24, pp. 235–​254. Pollini, J. (2012). From Republic to Empire: Rhetoric, Religion, and Power in the Visual Culture of Ancient Rome. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Sauer, V. (2013). Religiöses in der politischen Argumentation der späten römischen Republik: Ciceros Erste Catilinarische Rede  –​eine Fallstudie. Stuttgart:  Franz Steiner Verlag. Spencer, C. (2013). Cicero and the Rise of Deification at Rome. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Swain, S. (1996). Hellenism and Empire: Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, AD 50–​250. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Index

aberrant identity 127, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 139 abusive terminology 105–​106 active audience theory 91 adēlotēs 2 Aeacus 48, 137 Aeschines 4, 15, 16, 21n3, 33–​37, 51, 73, 126, 129; curses in 5–​6, 89; on Demosthenes 36, 44, 74, 108, 120, 127, 129, 136–​137; Demosthenes on 16, 42, 43–​44, 71, 88, 89–​90, 103, 104–​105, 106–​107, 120, 131, 137; divine audience 126–​127; divine intervention 96; divine protection 5, 37, 43; forensic oratory of 111n10, 129; formulaic phrases in 88–​89; and fortune (tychē) 5, 36; imperatives in 107–​108; impiety in 54; invites audience reaction 68, 85–​86, 87–​89, 97, 98–​99, 101, 107–​108, 109–​110; invocations in 5, 33, 70, 88, 89, 98–​99, 101, 127, 128–​129; oaths in 7, 22n28, 36, 85–​86, 89, 102–​103, 110; oracles in 9; phēmē (rumour) in 34–​36, 73–​74; prayer in 101, 111n10; questions in 110; references to heroes and statesmen 135–​136; rites of Dionysus and Sabazius 16, 43, 71, 89–​90 Aeschylus 129 aggressive oaths 7, 8 Alcibiades 37, 52 Amphictyonies 13, 16 Andocides 21n3, 37–​38, 87, 88, 125; impiety in 37, 52–​53, 54, 142n55; oaths in 37; questions in 110 anger 39, 69–​70, 97–​98, 105–​106, 108 Antiphon 10–​11, 21n3, 33, 38–​39, 70; and fortune (tychē) 4–​5; impiety in 38,

52–​53; inviting audience reaction 96–​97, 101–​102, 106; invocations in 65, 88; on justice and piety 126 Apollo 11, 86, 89 Apollonius Dyscolus 92 appropriateness, logics of 17, 19, 63–​64 Apsines 108 Aristides 134–​135, 136 Aristophanes 39, 106 Aristotle 3, 7, 8, 48, 75; Poetics 92, 122; Rhetoric 6, 39, 83, 88, 93, 97, 98, 103–​104, 106, 108, 122, 129(add references to: Rhetoric and Poetics) Artemis 11 Assembly 11, 12, 14, 15, 46, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 86, 91; rituals in 11, 32, 33, 67 assertory oaths 7 asyndeton 108 atekhnoi pisteis 7 Athena 10–​11, 50, 85, 86, 99, 130 Athenian identity 125, 127, 128–​129, 130, 132, 135, 136–​137; see also identity audience 1–​2, 18, 19–​20, 39, 65–​66, 82, 83, 90–​91, 93, 95–​110, 127; active audience theory 91; composition of 127; in different institutions 17; divine 11, 85, 87, 99–​100, 101–​102, 126–​127, 154; in drama 23n43, 67; see also cognitive/​emotional reactions; physical/​sensory reactions autochthony 128, 129 Bacchus/​Dionysus 16, 43–​44, 71, 89–​90 binding curses 5–​6 body as conduit 84 Boulē (Council) 8, 10–​11, 15, 33, 67, 69, 102, 104 “bouleutic oath” 8

Index  159 Chaeronea, battle of 73 Christianity 95–​96, 155, 156 Cicero 155 Cimon 36 civic address 127–​128 civic community 7, 11, 98–​99, 123–​124, 125, 128, 131 civic identity 5, 18, 20, 50, 65, 120–​139 civic spirit 10, 20, 120, 121, 125–​133, 139, 154 civil/​patriotic identity  65 civil religion 124 Codrus, King 135 cognitive dispositions 1–​2, 20, 83, 95–​97, 109, 154 cognitive/​emotional reactions 1–​2, 18, 19–​20, 39, 65–​66, 69–​70, 82, 83, 93, 95–​110, 127, 154; of the judges 39, 54, 68, 69, 97–​98, 100, 101–​102, 104, 106, 107, 154 cognitivism 95 collective/​communal identity 20, 121, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136–​137, 139, 154; see also group identity colony foundation 14, 66–​67 comic invective 69 conditional curses 5–​6 contextualizing religious discourse 19, 54, 63–​81 Creon 10, 131 Crete 137–​138 Cult Hymns 7 curses 5–​6, 7, 11, 66, 84, 89 defensive oaths 7, 8 defixiones/​katadesmoi 5–​6 Demeter 8, 97, 103 Demetrius 101, 108, 110 democracy 5, 53, 70; gods' protection of 5, 37, 43; and oaths 50, 67, 125 Demosthenes 3–​4, 5, 11, 15, 16–​18, 21n3, 39–​45, 64, 68, 83–​84, 125, 126; on Aeschines 16, 42, 43–​44, 71, 88, 89–​90, 103, 104–​105, 106–​107, 120, 131, 137; Aeschines on 36, 44, 74, 108, 120, 127, 129, 136–​137; civic address 127–​128; divine audience in 98, 99–​100, 126–​127; divine intervention in 4, 42, 73, 96; divine protection in 5, 43, 49, 70, 96; the Earth in 5, 44, 45, 58n34, 98; epideictic oratory of 40–​41, 134; forensic oratory of 18, 37,

39–​40, 41–​45, 54, 55, 65, 72, 111n10; formulaic phrases in 88–​89; and fortune (tychē) 4–​5, 12, 36, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 55, 71, 72, 73, 96, 125, 127; funeral oration 40, 46, 55, 69, 128; on hypocrisis 67, 83–​84; imperatives in 92–​93, 100–​101, 107, 109; impiety in 41, 43, 45, 52, 53, 54, 136, 137; invites audience reaction 83–​84, 87–​89, 92, 97–​98, 100–​101, 103–​105, 106–​107, 109, 127, 131; invocations in 41, 44, 45, 70, 88, 89, 91, 100, 105; logographic speeches 16–​17, 18, 64; medical language in 103, 104, 127; moira in 4, 42; non-​logographic speeches 16–​17, 18, 64; oaths in 7, 8, 41, 42, 44–​45, 70, 86, 88, 89, 111n14; oracles in 9; on the polis 40, 41, 55, 71, 128; prayer in 43, 50, 73, 84, 85, 92–​93, 99, 100, 111n10; private speeches (dikai) 18, 39–​40, 44–​45; public speeches (graphai) 16–​17, 18, 39, 41–​44, 70; questions in 110; references to heroes and statesmen 134–​135, 137–​138; on sacrifices 49–​50; symbouleutic oratory of 39, 41, 49, 55, 70, 71, 72, 134; and vocal ploys 67, 88, 89–​90 dicastic (judges’) oaths 8, 15, 36, 37, 42, 45, 47–​48, 53, 69, 70, 71, 102–​103 dikai (speeches for private trials) see private speeches (dikai) Dikē/​Dikaiosynē (Justice) 11, 99, 128–​129; see also justice Dinarchus 11, 21n3, 45, 126–​127, 131, 136; divine protection in 45, 96, 125; formulaic phrases in 89; fortune (tychē) in 77n31; impiety in 45, 52–​53, 54; invocations in 45, 89; oaths in 45, 89, 110; oracles in 9; questions in 110 Dionysius of Halicarnassus 108, 122 direct speech 89–​90 discourse, definition of 3 disease, terminology of 103–​104 divine audience 11, 85, 87, 99–​100, 101–​102, 126–​127, 154 divine intervention 2, 4, 42, 54, 73, 96; in Demosthenes 4, 42, 73, 96; in Isocrates 11, 48, 49, 50, 72, 96; see also fortune (tychē) divine protection 5, 37, 43, 45, 49, 70, 96, 125 drama, Greek 14, 23n43, 67, 91, 103

160 Index dreams 9, 46 dynamic infinitive 94 Earth 5, 44, 45, 84, 88, 89, 98–​99, 128 emotional/​cognitive reactions see cognitive/​emotional reactions emotional community 124 ephebic oath 111n14 ephetai, court of 5 epideictic oratory 1, 7, 17, 18, 25n77, 33, 55, 64, 69, 71–​72, 128; of Aeschines 129; of Demosthenes 40–​41, 134; of Hypereides 45–​46, 73; impiety in 54, 65; invocations in 54, 68–​69; of Isocrates 47, 48–​49, 55, 72, 134; of Lysias 51; oaths in 52, 54–​55, 65, 68–​69, 71; references to heroes and statesmen 134, 139 ethnicity 125, 127, 129 ēthopoiia 65–​66 ēthos 6 Eucrates, law of 70 Euripides 35, 36, 38, 129 Euxenippus 9, 46, 71 evidentiary oaths 8–​9 exclusivity 20, 123 exile 38, 53 family pedigree of gods 48–​49, 55, 72 fear 70, 103–​104, 106, 108; of the gods 11, 37, 53, 57n22, 69, 71, 96–​97, 98, 101–​102 festivals 7, 14, 33, 91, 124 forensic oratory 1, 17, 25n77, 33, 51, 64, 67, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76n21, 120, 134, 139; of Aeschines 111n10, 129; of Antiphon 38; of Demosthenes 18, 37, 39–​40, 41–​45, 55, 65, 72, 111n10; of Hypereides 45–​46, 73; impiety in 54, 65; invocations in 54, 68–​69; of Isaeus 47; of Isocrates 47–​48, 72; of Lysias 51–​52, 53–​54; oaths in 53–​55, 65–​66, 68–​69, 71; oracles in 9; political nature of 68, 70–​71, 139; references to heroes and statesmen 134; see also private speeches (dikai); public speeches (graphai) formulaic patterns 6, 41, 54, 65, 68–​69, 84, 88–​89, 111n14 fortune (tychē) 4–​5, 32, 104, 127; in Aeschines 5, 36; in Demosthenes 4–​5, 12, 36, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 55, 71, 72, 73, 96, 125, 127; in Hypereides 5, 42,

46; in Isocrates 4–​5, 11, 49, 72; in Lycurgus 4, 50, 76n30 functionalism 41 funeral orations 55, 69, 72, 128; Demosthenes 40, 46, 55, 69, 128; Hypereides 40, 46, 55, 128; invocations in 69; Lysias 46, 51, 52, 55, 69, 128 gesticulation 19, 20, 67, 82, 83, 84–​85, 87, 88, 89, 154 glossolalia 5 gold 108, 136 graphai (speeches for public trials) see public speeches (graphai) group identity 18, 51, 57n18, 66, 125, 127, 128, 129; see also collective/​ communal identity habitus 123 Hellenistic period 155, 156 Herodotus 10, 35, 38, 125 heroes 15, 20, 32, 50, 120, 133–​138, 139, 154 Hesiod 11, 35, 66 hiera kai hosia 12–​13, 124, 126 Homer 35–​36, 92 Homeric hymns 6–​7 hymns 6–​7, 22n24 Hypereides 21n3, 40, 45–​46, 50, 71, 73, 136; epideictic oratory 45–​46, 73; forensic oratory 45–​46, 73; and fortune (tychē) 5, 42, 46; funeral oration 40, 46, 55, 128; oracles in 9, 46 hypocrisis 67, 83–​84, 85–​88 ideal statesman 20, 120, 133–​138, 139, 154 identity 20, 120–​126; aberrant 127, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 139; Athenian 125, 127, 128–​129, 130, 132, 135, 136–​137; civic 5, 18, 20, 50, 65, 120–​139; collective/​communal 20, 121, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136–​137, 139, 154; construction 16, 18, 120–​121, 122, 123, 124, 126, 127, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 136–​137, 138–​139, 154; ideal 121, 133, 154; individual 20, 84, 122, 130, 131, 132; political 18, 20, 120–​139; religious 123–​124, 131, 139 (ir)rationality of religion 68, 95

Index  161 imperative 92–​93, 94, 107; in Aeschines 107–​108; in Demosthenes 92–​93, 100–​101, 107, 109; in Isocrates 108 impiety 16, 37, 38, 52–​53, 54, 65, 105, 106, 131, 132–​133; in Aeschines 54; in Andocides 37, 52–​53, 54, 142n55; in Antiphon 38, 52–​53; in Demosthenes 41, 43, 45, 52, 53, 54, 136, 137; in Dinarchus 45, 52–​53, 54; in epideictic oratory 54, 65; in forensic oratory 54, 65; in Hypereides 46; in Isaeus 52; in Isocrates 38, 48, 53, 54; in Lycurgus 50; in Lysias 38, 52, 53, 74, 106; in private speeches (dikai) 54, 65; in public speeches (graphai) 54, 65; punishment for 16, 37, 38, 43, 53, 54, 96–​97, 132–​133, 142n55 inclusivity 20, 123 individual identity 20, 84, 122, 130, 131, 132 individuality 73–​74, 75 infinitive 93–​94 interpretive communities 91 invocations 5, 6, 7, 32, 54, 65, 71, 88–​89, 108; in Aeschines 5, 33, 70, 88, 89, 98–​99, 101, 127, 128–​129; in Antiphon 65, 88; in Demosthenes 41, 44, 45, 70, 88, 89, 91, 100, 105; in Dinarchus 45, 89; in epideictic oratory 68–​69; in forensic oratory 54, 68–​69; in funeral oratory 69; in Isaeus 23n31, 47, 69, 70, 110; in Lysias 54, 89; to natural powers 88, 91; in symbouleutic oratory 65–​66, 68–​69; see also particles in oaths and invocations; prepositional phrases in oaths and invocations; vocative in oaths and invocations Isaeus 21n3, 47, 50; impiety in 52; invocations in 23n31, 47, 69, 70, 110; oaths in 7, 8, 47, 69, 89; questions in 110 Isocrates 21n3, 47–​50, 115n61, 135, 136; divine audience in 98; divine intervention in 11, 48, 49, 50, 72, 96; divine punishment in 48, 49, 72; epideictic oratory of 47, 48–​49, 55, 72, 134; on fearing the gods 37, 96, 98; forensic oratory of 47–​48, 72; and fortune (tychē) 4–​5, 11, 49, 72; gods and the polis 41, 49, 55, 71–​72; imperatives in 108; impiety in 38, 48, 53, 54; myths in 48; oaths in 47–​48,

49; references to heroes and statesmen 133, 137, 138; symbouleutic speeches of 41, 47, 49–​50, 55, 71–​72 judges 39, 91, 127, 129, 154; divine audience of 11, 85, 87, 99–​100, 101–​102, 126–​127, 154; oaths of 8, 15, 36, 37, 42, 45, 47–​48, 53, 69, 70, 71, 102–​103; reactions of 39, 54, 68, 69, 91, 92, 97–​98, 100, 101–​102, 104, 106, 107, 154 justice: Dikē/​Dikaiosynē 11, 99, 128–​129; and piety 38, 49, 54, 102, 114n57, 126–​127 katadesmoi/​defixiones 5–​6 katharos (pure) 4 laughter 77, 90 law courts 11, 15, 91, 100; and the Assembly 67, 68, 70, 71; audience composition 127; political nature of 68; and rituals 11, 32; secret ballot in 39, 98; see also forensic oratory; judges logics of appropriateness 17, 19, 63–​64 logographic speeches 18, 64–​65 Longinus 110 Lycurgus 4, 15, 21n3, 32, 50–​51, 73, 107, 120, 124–​125, 126, 130–​131; divine audience 98, 99; divine protection 37, 43, 70; fortune (tychē) 4, 50, 76n30; impiety in 50; oaths in 50, 67, 111n14, 125; oracles in 9; prayer in 50, 73, 85, 99, 100; references to heroes and statesmen 135, 138 Lysias 21n3, 40, 51–​54, 70, 74, 93–​94, 97, 102, 126–​127; epideictic oratory of 51; forensic oratory of 51–​52, 53–​54; funeral oration 46, 51, 52, 55, 69, 128; gesticulation in 88; impiety in 38, 52, 53, 74, 106; invites audience reaction 54; invocations in 54, 89; oaths in 52, 53–​54, 71, 87, 89, 111n17; prayer in 54, 94; private speeches (dikai) 51, 52, 53; public speeches (graphai) 51–​52, 53–​54, 73, 74 Macedon 5, 42, 46, 68, 73, 74, 134, 135–​136, 138; see also Philip of Macedon medical language 103–​104, 127 Menander 7, 112n27 miaros (filthy) 4

162 Index Miltiades 134–​135 Minos 137–​138 moira 1, 4–​5, 24n48; see also fortune (tychē) murder/​homicide 38, 39, 57n22, 70, 101–​102, 142n55 myths 2, 10, 13, 16, 133, 135, 139; autochthony 128, 129; in Isocrates 48; see also heroes Mytilene 67 natural powers 88, 91 New Institutionalism 17, 18, 19, 63–​64 nomoi 3 non-​logographic speeches 18, 64–​65 oaths 7–​9, 54–​55, 65–​69, 71, 85–​87, 93, 110; accumulation of 87; in Aeschines 7, 22n28, 36, 85–​86, 89, 102–​103, 110; aggressive 7; in Andocides 37; assertory 7; “bouleutic” 8; defensive 7; and democracy 50, 67, 125; in Demosthenes 7, 8, 41, 42, 44–​45, 70, 86, 88, 89, 111n14; in Dinarchus 45, 89, 110; ephebic 111n14; in epideictic oratory 52, 54–​55, 65, 68–​69, 71; evidentiary 8–​9; in forensic oratory 53–​55, 65–​66, 68–​69, 71; in Isaeus 7, 8, 47, 69, 89; in Isocrates 47–​48, 49; of judges (dicastic) 8, 15, 36, 37, 42, 45, 47–​48, 53, 69, 70, 71, 102–​103; in Lycurgus 50, 67, 111n14, 125; in Lysias 52, 53–​54, 71, 87, 89, 111n17; promissory 7; in symbouleutic oratory 49, 54, 65–​66, 68–​69, 71; witness 8; see also particles in oaths and invocations; perjury; prepositional phrases in oaths and invocations; vocative in oaths and invocations optative 92, 100 oracles 9, 12, 46, 111n14, 140n2 oratory 1, 10, 16, 17; see also epideictic oratory; forensic oratory; symbouleutic oratory Oropos 46 Orphic Hymns 6–​7 Orphism 43, 99 Panathenaea 14 Panhellenic religion 10, 13 parody 90, 137 particles in oaths and invocations 33, 54, 65, 89

pathos 69, 108 patriotism 32, 65, 121, 125, 128; and piety 5, 121, 126–​133, 139, 154; and religion 10, 14–​15, 20, 120, 121, 125–​133, 139, 154 Pausanias 1, 35 Peithō (Persuasion) 11; see also persuasion performance 16, 22n24, 67, 83–​90; hypocrisis 67, 83–​84, 85–​88 Pericles 5, 53 perjury 7–​8, 22n28, 47, 50, 66, 135–​136 Persephone 97 Persia/​Persians 37, 108, 135, 136 personifications 11, 34, 128–​129, 137 persuasion 1, 6, 11, 18, 24n45, 82, 91, 97–​98, 104, 139, 155 phēmē (rumour) 34–​36, 73–​74 Philip of Macedon 43, 46, 68, 73, 74, 96, 107, 131, 134, 135–​136 physical/​sensory reactions 19–​20, 82, 83–​95, 154; gesticulation 19, 20, 67, 82, 83, 84–​85, 87, 88, 89; of the judges 91, 92; of the speaker 19–​20, 82, 83–​90, 94; vocal ploys 20, 67, 83–​84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 90; voice reactions 19, 20, 82, 83, 154 piety 10, 32, 41, 50, 65–​66, 121, 123–​124, 125, 133, 134–​135, 136, 137, 138; and justice 38, 49, 54, 102, 114n57, 126–​127; and patriotism 5, 121, 126–​133, 139, 154; see also impiety Pindar 11, 141n41 pity 70, 97–​98, 108 Plato 3, 67, 84, 137–​138 Plutarch 83–​84, 109 polis 2–​3, 125–​126, 128–​129; Demosthenes on 40, 41, 55, 71, 128; Isocrates on 41, 49, 55, 71–​72; and religion 9–​12, 40, 51, 55, 71–​72, 120, 124, 126, 138–​139 “polis religion” 2, 10, 12–​16, 40, 68 political identity 18, 20, 120–​139 pollution 32, 38, 52, 70, 106 Poseidon 8 prayer 6, 7, 10–​11, 65, 66, 67, 68, 83, 84, 92, 93, 94, 96, 97, 100, 111n9; in Aeschines 101, 111n10; in Demosthenes 43, 50, 73, 84, 85, 92–​93, 99, 100, 111n10; gesticulations for 67, 84, 85, 111n10; in Lycurgus 50, 73, 85, 99, 100; in Lysias 54, 94

Index  163 prepositional phrases in oaths and invocations 33, 54, 65, 89 private speeches (dikai) 12, 17, 18, 19, 33, 63, 64, 69–​71; of Demosthenes 18, 39–​40, 44–​45; impiety in 54, 65; of Isaeus 47; of Lysias 51, 52, 53 Proclus 6–​7 promissory oaths 7 prosōpopoeia 131, 132 Protagoras 2, 92 Pseudo-​Aristotle  67, 84 Pseudo-​Demosthenes 38, 43, 52 Pseudo-​Lysias 3–​4, 15, 126 Pseudo-​Plutarch  91 public speeches (graphai) 12, 17, 18, 19, 33, 63, 64, 69–​71, 73; of Demosthenes 16–​17, 18, 39, 41–​44, 70; impiety in 54, 65; of Lysias 51–​52, 53–​54, 73, 74 punishment 38, 39, 40, 42, 50, 52, 53–​54, 102, 132–​133; death 38, 53, 132, 142n54; exile 38, 53; historical exempla 43; for impiety 16, 37, 38, 43, 53, 54, 96–​97, 132–​133, 142n55; in Isocrates 48, 49, 72; for pollution 32; for sacrilege 36–​37; for treason 132–​133 questions 109–​110 Quintilian 75 reactions 19–​20, 82–​110; of the judges 39, 54, 68, 69, 90, 91, 92, 97–​98, 100, 101–​102, 104, 106, 107, 154; voice reactions 19, 20, 82, 83; see also cognitive/​emotional reactions; physical/​sensory reactions; speakers reciprocity between gods and humans 6, 49 religion: (ir)rationality of 68, 95; civil religion 124; definitions 2, 9, 13–​14, 40–​41, 96, 124, 126; as “feeling” 95; and identity construction 51, 120, 123–​124, 132–​133, 135; and the land 15, 51, 127–​128; and patriotism 10, 14–​15, 20, 120, 121, 125–​133, 139; and the polis 9–​12, 40, 51, 55, 71–​72, 120, 124, 126, 138–​139; and rhetoric 1, 3–​4, 6, 7, 9–​12, 20, 32, 36; and transcendentalism 21n6; see also “polis religion” religious argumentation 3, 16, 17, 33, 120

religious discourse: contextualizing 19, 54, 63–​75; definition 1, 3–​4 religious identity 123–​124, 131, 139 repetition 89, 90, 101, 108 Rhadamanthus 137, 138 rhetoric 19, 32, 46, 64, 83, 101, 120, 126, 127, 138; and religion 1, 3–​4, 6, 7, 9–​12, 20, 32, 36 Rome, ancient 155, 156 Sabazius 16, 43, 44, 71, 89–​90 sacrifices 4, 10, 11, 43, 49–​50, 52, 84, 124 sacrilege 36–​37, 48, 52, 96–​97, 102; see also impiety; pollution sanctuaries 9, 11, 13, 14–​15, 46 sexuality 120 shame 74 slander 38–​39 social identity theories 18, 120–​121, 122–​123, 139 social psychology 66 Socrates 16, 53 Solon 8, 9, 136 Sophocles 129 Sparta 5, 138 speakers 89; gesticulation 19, 20, 67, 82, 83, 84–​85, 87, 88, 89, 154; hypocrisis 67, 83–​84, 85–​88; reactions of 19–​20, 82, 83–​90, 94; vocal ploys 20, 67, 83–​84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 90 Sun 5, 88, 98–​99, 128 supplication 67, 92 swearing of oaths 54, 65, 68–​69, 71; see also oaths sycophancy 38–​39, 106 symbouleutic oratory 12, 17, 25n77, 54, 64, 67, 70, 71–​72, 75, 91, 139; of Demosthenes 39, 41, 49, 55, 70, 71, 72, 134; invocations in 65–​66, 68–​69; of Isocrates 41, 47, 49–​50, 55, 71–​72; oaths in 49, 54, 65–​66, 68–​69, 71; oracles in 9; references to heroes and statesmen 134 synergetic action 104 Ten Attic Orators 1, 21n3 Thebes 10, 96, 108 Themis 11 Themistocles 136 thorubos 91, 94 (dicastic and coronal) Thrasybulus 12

164 Index Thucydides 67 Tiberius 110 Timarchus 33–​35, 68, 73–​74 treason 15, 32, 130–​132, 139 tyranny 70, 131, 138, 139

vocative in oaths and invocations 33, 54, 65, 88, 100 voice reactions 19, 20, 82, 83, 154

virtue 88, 128–​129, 134–​135, 137–​138 vocal ploys 20, 67, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 90

Xenophon 12, 38, 132

war 10, 12, 14, 68

Zeus 8, 10–​11, 33, 48, 86, 87, 89, 99, 107–​108, 130, 131, 137–​138