DEMOSTHENES BEFORE THE ATHENIAN ASSEMBLY
 

On the Crown - Page 2

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Now if one of his own or his allies' representatives on the Council brought the matter forward, he thought that both the Thebans and the Thessalians would regard the proceeding with suspicion, and that all would be on their guard.

But if it was an Athenian, sent by you, his adversaries, that did so, he would easily escape detection--as, in fact, happened. How then did he manage this? He hired Aeschines. No one, I suppose, either realized beforehand what was going on or guarded against it--that is how such affairs are usually conducted here; Aeschines was nominated a delegate to the Council; three or four people held up their hands for him, and he was declared elected. But when, bearing with him the prestige of this city, he reached the Amphictyons, he dismissed and closed his eyes to all other considerations, and proceeded to perform the task for which he had been hired. He composed and recited a story, in attractive language, of the way in which the Cirrhaean territory had come to be dedicated; and with this he persuaded the members of the Council, who were unused to rhetoric and did not foresee what was about to happen, that they should resolve to make the circuit of the territory, which the Amphisseans said they were cultivating because it was their own, while he alleged that it was part of the consecrated land. The Locrians
were not bringing any suit against us, or taking any such action as (in order to justify himself) he now falsely alleges.

You may know this from the following consideration. It was clearly impossible for the Locrians to bring a suit against Athens to an actual issue, without summoning us. Who then served the summons upon us? Before what authority was it served? Tell us who knows: point to him. You cannot do so. It was a hollow and a false pretext of which you thus made a wrongful use. While the Amphictyons were making the circuit of the territory in accordance with Aeschines' suggestion, the Locrians fell upon them and came near to shooting them all down with their spears; some of the members of the Council they even carried off with them. And now that complaints and hostilities had been stirred up against the Amphisseans, in consequence of these proceedings, the command was first held by Cottyphus, and his force was drawn from the Amphictyonic Powers alone. But since some did not come, and those who came did nothing, the men who had been suborned for the purpose--villains of long standing, chosen from the Thessalians and from the traitors in other States--took steps with a view to entrusting the affair to Philip, as commander, at the next meeting of the Council. They had adopted arguments of a persuasive kind. Either, they said, the Amphictyons must themselves contribute funds, maintain mercenaries, and fine those who refused to do so; or they must elect Philip. To make a long story short, the result was that Philip was appointed. And immediately afterwards, having collected a force and crossed the Pass, ostensibly on his way to the territory of Cirrha, he bids a long farewell to the Cirrhaeans and Locrians, and seizes Elateia. Now if the Thebans had not changed their policy at once, upon seeing this, and joined us, the trouble would have descended upon the city in full force, like a torrent in winter. As it was, the Thebans checked him for the moment; chiefly, men of Athens, through the goodwill of some Heavenly Power towards us; but secondarily, so far as it lay in one man's power, through me also. (To the clerk.) Now give me the decrees in question, and the dates of each proceeding; (to the jury) that you may know what trouble this abominable creature stirred up, unpunished. (To the clerk.) Read me the decrees.

[The decrees of the Amphictyons are read.]

(To the clerk.) Now read the dates of these proceedings. (To the jury.) They are the dates at which Aeschines was delegate to the Council. (To the clerk.) Read.

[The dates are read.]

Now give me the letter which Philip sent to his allies in the Peloponnese, when the Thebans failed to obey his summons. For from this, too, you may clearly see that he concealed the real reason for his action--the fact that he was taking measures against Hellas and the Thebans and yourselves--and pretended to represent the common cause and the will of the Amphictyons. And the man who provided him with all these occasions and pretexts was Aeschines. (To the clerk.) Read.

[Philip's letter is read.]

You see that he avoids the mention of his own reasons for action, and takes refuge in those provided by the Amphictyons. Who was it that helped him to prepare such a case? Who put such pretexts at his disposal? Who is most to blame for the disasters that have taken place? Is it not Aeschines? And so, men of Athens, you must not go about saying that Hellas has suffered such things as these at the hands of one man. I call Earth and Heaven to witness, that it was at the hands, not of one man, but of many villains in each State. And of these Aeschines is one; and, had I to speak the truth without any reserve, I should not hesitate to describe him as the incarnate curse of all alike--men, regions or cities--that have been ruined since then. For he who supplied the seed is responsible for the crop. I wonder that you did not turn away your eyes at the very sight of him: but a cloud of darkness seems to hang between you and the truth. I find that in dealing with the measures taken by Aeschines for the injury of his country, I have reached the time when I must speak of my own statesmanship in opposition to these measures; and it is fair that you should listen to this, for many reasons, but above all because it will be a shameful thing, if, when I have faced the actual realities of hard work for you, you will not even suffer the story of them to be told.

For when I saw the Thebans, and (I may almost say) yourselves as well, being led by the corrupt partisans of Philip in either State to overlook, without taking a single precaution against it, the thing which was really dangerous to both peoples and needed their utmost watchfulness--the unhindered growth of Philip's power; while, on the contrary, you were quite ready to entertain ill-feeling and to quarrel with one another; I kept unceasing watch to prevent this. Nor did I rely only on my own judgment in thinking that this was what your interest required. I knew that Aristophon, and afterwards Eubulus, always wished to bring about this friendly union, and that, often as they opposed one another in other matters, they always agreed in this. Cunning fox! While they lived, you hung about them and flattered them; yet now that they are dead, you do not see that you are attacking them. For your censure of my policy in regard to Thebes is far more a denunciation of them than of me, since they were before me in approving of that alliance. But I return to my previous point--that it was when Aeschines had brought about the war at Amphissa, and the others, his accomplices, had effectually helped him to create the ill-feeling against the Thebans, that Philip marched against us. For it was to render this possible that their attempt to throw the two cities into collision was made; and had we not roused ourselves a little before it was too late, we should never have been able to regain the lost ground;
to such a length had these men carried matters. What the relations between the two peoples already were, you will know when you have heard these decrees and replies. (To the clerk.) Take these and read them.

[The decrees are read.]

(To the clerk.) Now read the replies.

[The replies are read.]

Having established such relations between the cities, through the agency of these men, and being elated by these decrees and replies, Philip came with his army and seized Elateia, thinking that under no circumstances whatever should we and the Thebans join in unison after this. And though the commotion which followed in the city is known to you all, let me relate to you briefly just the bare facts.

It was evening, and one had come to the Prytanes with the news that Elateia had been taken. Upon this they rose up from supper without delay; some of them drove the occupants out of the booths in the market-place and set fire to the wicker-work; others sent for the generals and summoned the trumpeter; and the city was full of commotion. On the morrow, at break of day, the Prytanes summoned the Council to the Council-Chamber, while you made your way to the Assembly; and before the Council had transacted its business and passed its draft-resolution, the whole people was seated on the hill-side. And now, when the Council had arrived, and the Prytanes had reported the intelligence which they had received, and had brought forward the messenger, and he had made his statement, the herald proceeded to ask, 'Who wishes to speak?' But no one came forward; and though the herald repeated the question many times, still no one rose, though all the generals were present, and all the orators, and the voice of their country was calling for some one to speak for her deliverance. For the voice of the herald, uttered in accordance with the laws, is rightly to be regarded as the common voice of our country.

And yet, if it was for those to come forward who wished for the deliverance of the city, all of you and all the other Athenians would have risen, and proceeded to the platform, for I am certain that you all wished for her deliverance. If it was for the wealthiest, the Three Hundred would have risen; and if it was for those who had both these qualifications--loyalty to the city and wealth--then those would have risen, who subsequently made those large donations; for it was loyalty and wealth that led them so to do. But that crisis and that day called, it seems, not merely for a man of loyalty and wealth, but for one who had also followed the course of events closely from the first, and had come to a true conclusion as to the motive and the aim with which Philip was acting as he was. For no one who was unacquainted with these, and had not scrutinized them from an early period, was any the more likely, for all his loyalty and wealth, to know what should be done, or to be able to advise you. The man who was needed was found that day in me. I came forward and addressed you in words which I ask you to listen to with attention, for two reasons--first, because I would have you realize that I was the only orator or politician who did not desert his post as a loyal citizen in the hour of danger, but was found there, speaking and proposing what your need required, in the midst of the terror; and secondly, because by the expenditure of a small amount of time, you will be far better qualified for the future in the whole art of political administration.

My words then were these: 'Those who are unduly disturbed by the idea that Philip can count upon the support of Thebes do not, I think, understand the present situation. For I am quite sure that, if this were so, we should have heard of his being, not at Elateia, but on our own borders. At the same time, I understand quite well, that he has come to prepare the way for himself at Thebes. Listen,' I said, 'while I tell you the true state of affairs. Philip already has at his disposal all the Thebans whom he could win over either by bribery or by deception; and those who have resisted him from the first and are opposing him now, he has no chance of winning. What then is his design and object in seizing Elateia? He wishes, by making a display of force in their neighborhood and bringing up his army, to encourage and embolden his own friends, and to strike terror into his enemies, that so they may either concede out of terror what they now refuse, or may be compelled.

Now,' I said, 'if we make up our minds at the present moment to remember any ill-natured action which the Thebans may have done us, and to distrust them on the assumption that they are on the side of our enemies, we shall be doing, in the first place, just what Philip would pray for: and further, I am afraid that his present opponents may then welcome him, that all may philippize with one consent, and that he and they may march to Attica together. If, however, you follow my advice, and give your minds to the problem before us, instead of to contentious criticism of anything that I may say, I believe that I shall be able to win your approval for my proposals, and to dispel the danger which threatens the city. What then must you do? You must first moderate your present alarm, and then change your attitude, and be alarmed, all of you, for the Thebans. They are far more within the reach of disaster than we: it is they whom the danger threatens first. Secondly, those who are of military age, with the cavalry, must march to Eleusis, and let every one see that you yourselves are in arms; in order that those who sympathize with you in Thebes may be enabled to speak in defense of the right, with the same freedom that their opponents enjoy, when they see that, just as those who are trying to sell their country to Philip have a force ready to help them at Elateia, so those who would struggle for freedom have you ready at hand to help them, and to go to their aid, if any one attacks them. Next I bid you elect ten envoys, and give them full authority, with the generals, to decide the time of their own journey to Thebes, and to order the march of the troops. But when the envoys arrive in Thebes, how do I advise that they should handle the matter? I ask your special attention to this.

They must require nothing of the Thebans--to do so at such a moment would be shameful; but they must undertake that we will go to their aid, if they bid us do so, on the ground that they are in extreme peril, and that we foresee the future better than they; in order that, if they accept our offer and take our advice, we may have secured our object, and our action may wear an aspect worthy of this city; or, if after all we are unsuccessful, the Thebans may have themselves to blame for any mistakes which they now make, while we shall have done nothing disgraceful or ignoble.' When I had spoken these words, and others in the same strain, I left the platform. All joined in commending these proposals; no one said a word in opposition; and I did not speak thus, and then fail to move a motion; nor move a motion, and then fail to serve as envoy; nor serve as envoy, and then fail to persuade the Thebans. I carried the matter through in person from beginning to end, and gave myself up unreservedly to meet the dangers which encompassed the city. (To the clerk.) Bring me the resolution which was then passed.

But now, Aeschines, how would you have me describe your part, and how mine, that day? Shall I call myself, as you would call me by way of abuse and disparagement, Battalus? and you, no ordinary hero even, but a real stage-hero, Cresphontes or Creon, or the character which you cruelly murdered at Collytus, Oenomaus? Then I, Battalus of Paeania, proved myself of more value to my country in that crisis than Oenomaus of Cothocidae. In fact you were of no service on any occasion, while I played the part which became a good citizen throughout. (To the clerk.) Read this decree.

[The decree of Demosthenes is read.]

This was the first step towards our new relations with Thebes, and the beginning of a settlement. Up to this time the cities had been inveigled into mutual hostility, hatred, and mistrust by these men. But this decree caused the peril that encompassed the city to pass away like a cloud. It was for an honest citizen, if he had any better plan than mine, to make it public at the time, instead of attacking me now. The true counselor and the dishonest accuser, unlike as they are in everything, differ most of all in this: the one declares his opinion before the event,
and freely surrenders himself as responsible, to those who follow his advice, to Fortune, to circumstances, to any one. The other is silent when he ought to speak, and then carps at anything untoward that may happen. That crisis, as I have said, was the opportunity for a man who cared for his country, the opportunity for honest speaking. But so much further than I need will I go, that if any one can now point to any better course--or any course at all except that which I chose--I admit my guilt. If any one has discovered any course to-day, which would have been for our advantage, had we followed it at the time, I admit that it ought not to have escaped me. But if there neither is nor was such a
possibility; if even now, even to-day, no one can mention any such course, what was the counselor of the people to do? Had he not to choose the best of the plans which suggested themselves and were feasible? This I did. For the herald asked the question, Aeschines, 'Who wishes to speak?' not 'Who wishes to bring accusations about the past?' nor 'Who wishes to guarantee the future?' And while you sat speechless in the Assembly throughout that period, I came forward and spoke. Since, however, you did not do so then, at least inform us now, and tell us what words, which should have been upon my lips, were left unspoken, what precious opportunity, offered to the city, was left unused, by me? What alliance was there, what course of action, to which I ought, by preference, to have guided my countrymen?

But with all mankind the past is always dismissed from consideration, and no one under any circumstances proposes to deliberate about it. It is the future or the present that make their call upon a statesman's duty. Now at that time the danger was partly in the future, and partly already present; and instead of caviling disingenuously at the results, consider the principle of my policy under such circumstances. For in everything the final issue falls out as Heaven wills; but the principle which he follows itself reveals the mind of the statesman. Do not, therefore, count it a crime on my part, that Philip proved victorious in the battle. The issue of that event lay with God, not with me. But show me that I did not adopt every expedient that was possible, so far as human reason could calculate; that I did not carry out my plan honestly and diligently, with exertions greater than my strength could bear; or that the policy which I initiated was not honorable, and worthy of Athens, and indeed necessary: and then denounce me, but not before. But if the thunderbolt [or the storm] which fell has proved too mighty, not only for us, but for all the other Hellenes, what are we to do? It is as though a ship-owner, who had done all that he could to ensure safety, and had
equipped the ship with all that he thought would enable her to escape destruction, and had then met with a tempest in which the tackling had been strained or even broken to pieces, were to be held responsible for the wreck of the vessel.

'Why,' he would say, 'I was not steering the ship'--just as I was not the general--'I had no power over Fortune: she had power over everything.' But consider and observe this point. If it was fated that we should fare as we did, even when we had the Thebans to help us in the struggle, what must we have expected, if we had not had even them for our allies, but they had joined Philip?--and this was the object for which Philip employed every tone that he could command. And if, when the battle took place, as it did, three days' march from Attica, the city was encompassed by such peril and terror, what should we have had to expect, if this same disaster had occurred anywhere within the borders of our own country? Do you realize that, as it was, a single day, and a second, and a third gave us the power to rally, to collect our forces, to take breath, to do much that made for the deliverance of the city: but that had it been otherwise--it is not well, however, to speak of things which we have not had to experience, thanks to the goodwill of one of the gods, and to the protection which the city obtained for herself in this alliance, which you denounce.

The whole of this long argument, gentlemen of the jury, is addressed to yourselves and to the circle of listeners outside the bar; for to this despicable man it would have been enough to address a short, plain sentence. If to you alone, Aeschines, the future was clear, before it came, you should have given warning, when the city was deliberating upon the subject; but if you had no such foreknowledge, you have the same ignorance to answer for as others. Why then should you make these charges against me, any more than I against you? For I have been a better citizen than you with regard to this very matter of which I am speaking--I am not as yet talking of anything else--just in so far as I gave myself up to the policy which all thought expedient, neither shrinking from nor regarding any personal risk; while you neither offered any better proposals than mine (for then they would not have followed mine), nor yet made yourself useful in advancing mine in any way. What the most worthless of men, the bitterest enemy of the city, would do, you are found to have done, when all was over; and at the same time as the irreconcilable enemies of the city, Aristratus in Naxos, and Aristoleos in Thasos, are bringing the friends of Athens to trial, Aeschines, in Athens itself, is accusing Demosthenes. But surely one who treasured up the
misfortunes of the Hellenes, that he might win glory from them for himself, deserved to perish rather than to stand as the accuser of another; and one who has profited by the very same crisis as the enemies of the city cannot possibly be loyal to his country. You prove it, moreover, by the life you live, the actions you do, the measures you take --and the measures, too, that you do not take. Is anything being done which seems advantageous to the city? Aeschines is speechless. Has any obstruction, any untoward event occurred? There you find Aeschines, like a rupture or a sprain, which wakes into life, so soon as any trouble
overtakes the body.

But since he bears so hardly upon the results, I desire to say what may even be a paradox; and let no one, in the name of Heaven, be amazed at the length to which I go, but give a kindly consideration to what I say. Even if what was to come was plain to all beforehand; even if all foreknew it; even if you, Aeschines, had been crying with a loud voice in warning and protestation--you who uttered not so much as a sound; even then, I say, it was not right for the city to abandon her course, if she had any regard for her fame, or for our forefathers, or for the ages to come. As it is, she is thought, no doubt, to have failed to secure her object--as happens to all alike, whenever God wills it: but then, by abandoning in favor of Philip her claim to take the lead of others, she must have incurred the blame of having betrayed them all. Had she surrendered without a struggle those claims in defense of which our forefathers faced every imaginable peril, who would not have cast scorn upon you, Aeschines--upon you, I say; not, I trust, upon Athens nor upon me? In God's name, with what faces should we have looked upon those who came to visit the city, if events had come round to the same conclusion as they now have--if Philip had been chosen as commander and lord of all, and we had stood apart, while others carried on the struggle to prevent these things; and that, although the city had never yet in time past preferred an inglorious security to the hazardous vindication of a noble cause? What Hellene, what foreigner, does not know, that the Thebans, and the Spartans, who were powerful still earlier, and the Persian king would all gratefully and gladly have allowed Athens to take what she liked and keep all that was her own, if she would do the bidding of another, and let another take the first place in Hellas?

But this was not, it appears, the tradition of the Athenians; it was not tolerable; it was not in their nature. From the beginning of time no one had ever yet succeeded in persuading the city to throw in her lot with those who were strong, but unrighteous in their dealings, and to enjoy the security of servitude. Throughout all time she has maintained her perilous struggle for pre-eminence, honor, and glory. And this policy you look upon as so lofty, so proper to your own national character, that, of your forefathers also, it is those who have acted thus that you praise most highly. And naturally. For who would not admire the courage of those men, who did not fear to leave their land and their city, and to embark upon their ships, that they might not do the bidding of another; who chose for their general Themistocles (who had counseled them thus), and stoned Cyrsilus to death, when he gave his voice for submission to a master's orders--and not him alone, for your wives stoned his wife also to death. For the Athenians of that day did not look for an orator or a general who would enable them to live in happy servitude; they cared not to live at all, unless they might live in freedom. For every one of them felt that he had come into being, not for his father and his mother alone, but also for his country. And wherein lies the difference? He who thinks he was born for his parents alone awaits the death which destiny assigns him in the course of nature: but he who thinks he was born for his country also will be willing to die, that he may not see her in bondage, and will look upon the outrages and the indignities that he must needs bear in a city that is in bondage as more to be dreaded than death.

Now were I attempting to argue that I had induced you to show a spirit worthy of your forefathers, there is not a man who might not rebuke me with good reason. But in fact, I am declaring that such principles as these are your own; I am showing that before my time the city displayed this spirit, though I claim that I, too, have had some share, as your servant, in carrying out your policy in detail. But in denouncing the policy as a whole, in bidding you be harsh with me, as one who has brought terrors and dangers upon the city, the prosecutor, in his eagerness to deprive me of my distinction at the present moment, is trying to rob you of praises that will last throughout all time. For if you condemn the defendant on the ground that my policy was not for the best, men will think that your own judgment has been wrong, and that it was not through the unkindness of fortune that you suffered what befell you. But it cannot, it cannot be that you were wrong, men of Athens, when you took upon you the struggle for freedom and deliverance. No! by those who at Marathon bore the brunt of the peril--our forefathers. No! by those who at Plataeae drew up their battle-line, by those who at Salamis, by those who off Artemisium fought the fight at sea, by the many who lie in the sepulchres where the People laid them, brave men, all alike deemed
worthy by their country, Aeschines, of the same honor and the same obsequies--not the successful or the victorious alone! And she acted justly.

For all these have done that which it was the duty of brave men to do; but their fortune has been that which Heaven assigned to each. Accursed, poring pedant! if you, in your anxiety to deprive me of the honor and the kindness shown to me by my countrymen, recounted trophies and battles and deeds of long ago--and of which of them did this present trial demand the mention?--what spirit was I to take upon me, when I mounted the platform, I who came forward to advise the city how she should maintain her pre-eminence? Tell me, third-rate actor! The spirit of one who would propose things unworthy of this people? I should indeed have deserved to die! For you too, men of Athens, ought not to judge private suits and public in the same spirit. The business transactions of everyday life must be viewed in the light of the special law and practice associated with each; but the public policy of statesmen must be judged by the principles that your forefathers set before them. And if you believe that you should act worthily of them, then, whenever you come into court to try a public suit, each of you must imagine that with his staff and his ticket there is entrusted to him also the spirit of his country.

But I have entered upon the subject of your forefathers' achievements, and have passed over certain decrees and transactions. I desire, therefore, to return to the point from which I digressed. When we came to Thebes, we found envoys there from Philip, and from the Thessalians and his other allies--our friends in terror, his full of confidence. And to show you that I am not saying this now to suit my own
purpose, read the letter which we, your envoys, dispatched without delay. The prosecutor, however, has exercised the art of misrepresentation to so extravagant a degree, that he attributes to circumstances, not to me, any satisfactory result that was achieved; but for everything that fell out otherwise, he lays the blame upon me and the fortune that attends me. In his eyes, apparently, I, the counselor and orator, have no share in the credit for what was accomplished as the result of oratory and debate; while I must bear the blame alone for the misfortunes which we suffered in arms, and as a result of generalship. What more brutal, more damnable misrepresentation can be conceived? (To the clerk.) Read the letter.

[The letter is read.]

When they had convened the Assembly, they gave audience to the other side first, on the ground that they occupied the position of allies; and these came forward and delivered harangues full of the praises of Philip and of accusations against yourselves, recalling everything that you had ever done in opposition to the Thebans. The sum of it all was that they required the Thebans to show their gratitude for the benefits which they had received from Philip, and to exact the penalty for the injuries they had received from you, in whichever way they preferred--either by letting them march through their country against you, or by joining them in the invasion of Attica; and they showed (as they thought) that the result of the course which they advised would be that the herds and slaves and other valuables of Attica would find their way into Boeotia; while the result of
what (as they alleged) you were about to propose would be that those of Boeotia would be plundered in consequence of the war. They said much more, but all tending to the same effect. As for our reply, I would give my whole life to tell it you in detail; but I fear lest, now that those times have gone by, you may feel as if a very deluge had overwhelmed all, and may regard anything that is said on the subject as vanity and vexation. But hear at least what we persuaded them to do, and their answer to us. (To the clerk.) Take this and read it.

[The answer of the Thebans is read.]

After this they invited and summoned you; you marched; you went to their aid; and (to pass over the events which intervened) they received you in so friendly a spirit that while their infantry and cavalry were encamped outside the walls, they welcomed your troops into their houses, within the city, among their children and wives, and all that was most precious to them. Three eulogies did the Thebans pronounce upon you before the world that day, and those of the most honorable kind--the first upon your courage, the second upon your righteousness, the third
upon your self-control. For when they chose to side with you in the struggle, rather than against you, they judged that your courage was greater, and your requests more righteous, than Philip's; and when they placed in your power what they and all men guard most jealously, their children and wives, they showed their confidence in your self-control. In all these points, men of Athens, your conduct proved that their judgment had been correct. For the force came into the city; but no one made a single complaint--not even an unfounded complaint--against you; so virtuously did you conduct yourselves. And twice you fought by their side,
in the earliest battles-the battle by the river and the winter-battle--and showed yourselves, not only irreproachable, but even admirable, in your discipline, your equipment, and your enthusiasm. These things called forth expressions of thanks to you from other states, and sacrifices and processions to the gods from yourselves. And I should like to ask Aeschines whether, when all this was happening, and the city was full of pride and joy and thanksgiving, he joined in the sacrifices and the rejoicing of the multitude, or whether he sat at home grieving and groaning and angry at the good fortune of his country. If he was present,
and was seen in his place with the rest, surely his present action is atrocious--nay, even impious--when he asks you, who have taken an oath by the gods, to vote to-day that those very things were not excellent, of whose excellence he himself on that day made the gods his witnesses. If he was not present, then surely he deserves to die many times, for grieving at the sight of the things which brought rejoicing to others. (To the clerk.) Now read these decrees also.

[The decrees ordering sacrifices are read.]

Thus we were occupied at that time with sacrifices, while the Thebans were reflecting how they had been saved by our help; and those who, in consequence of my opponents' proceedings, had expected that they would themselves stand in need of help, found themselves, after all, helping others, in consequence of the action they took upon my advice. But what the tone of Philip's utterance was, and how greatly he was confounded by what had happened, you can learn from his letter, which he sent to the Peloponnese. (To the clerk.) Take these and read them: (to the jury) that you may know what was effected by my perseverance, by my travels, by the hardships I endured, by all those decrees of which Aeschines spoke so disparagingly just now.

You have had, as you know, many great and famous orators, men of Athens, before my time--Callistratus himself, Aristophon, Cephalus, Thrasybulus, and a vast number of others. Yet not one of these ever gave himself up entirely to the State for any purpose: the mover of a decree would not serve as ambassador, the ambassador would not move the decree. Each left himself, at one and the same time, some respite from work, and somewhere to lay the blame, in case of accidents. 'Well,' some one may say, 'did you so excel them in force and boldness, as to do everything yourself?' I do not say that. But so strong was my conviction
of the seriousness of the danger that had overtaken the city, that I felt that I ought not to give my personal safety any place whatever in my thoughts; it was enough for a man to do his duty and to leave nothing undone. And I was convinced with regard to myself--foolishly perhaps, but still convinced--that no mover would make a better proposal, no agent would execute it better, no ambassador would be more eager or more honest in his mission, than I. For these reasons, I assigned every one of these offices to myself. (To the clerk.) Read Philip's letters.

[Philip's letters are read.]

To this condition, Aeschines, was Philip reduced by my statesmanship. This was the tone of his utterances, though before this he used to threaten the city with many a bold word. For this I was deservedly crowned by those here assembled, and though you were present, you offered no opposition; while Diondas, who indicted the proposer, did not obtain the necessary fraction of the votes. (To the clerk.) Read me these decrees, (to the jury) which escaped condemnation, and which Aeschines did not even indict.

[The decrees are read.]

These decrees, men of Athens, contain the very same syllables, the very same words, as those which Aristonicus previously employed in his proposal, and which Ctesiphon, the defendant, has employed now; and Aeschines neither prosecuted the proposer of them himself, nor supported the person who indicted him. Yet surely, if the charges which he is bringing against me to-day are true, he would have had better reason then for prosecuting Demomeles (the proposer of the decree) and Hypereides, than he has for prosecuting Ctesiphon. And why? Because Ctesiphon can refer you to them--to the decision of the courts, to the fact that Aeschines himself did not accuse them, though they had moved exactly what he has moved now, to the prohibition by law of further prosecution in such
cases, and to many other facts: whereas then the case would have been tried on its merits, before the defendant had got the advantage of any such precedent. But of course it was impossible then for Aeschines to act as he has acted now--to select out of many periods of time long past, and many decrees, matters which no one either knew or thought would be mentioned to-day; to misrepresent them, to change the dates, to put false reasons for the actions taken in place of the true, and so appear to have a case. At the time this was impossible. Every word spoken then must have been spoken with the truth in view, at no distance of time from the events, while you still remembered all the facts and had them practically at your fingers' ends. For that reason he evaded all investigation at the time; and he has come before you now, in the belief (I fancy) that you will make this a contest of oratory, instead of an inquiry into our political careers, and that it is upon our eloquence, not upon the interests of the city, that you will decide.

Yes, and he ingeniously suggests that you ought to disregard the opinion which you had of each of us when you left your homes and came into court; and that just as, when you draw up an account in the belief that some one has a balance, you nevertheless give way when you find that the counters all disappear and leave nothing over, so now you should give your adhesion to the conclusion which emerges from the argument. Now observe how inherently rotten everything that springs from dishonesty seems to be. By his very use of this ingenious illustration he has confessed that to-day, at all events, our respective characters are well
established--that I am known to speak for my country's good, and he to speak for Philip. For unless that were your present conception of each of us, he would not have sought to change your view. And further, I shall easily show you that it is not fair of him to ask you to alter this opinion--not by the use of counters--that is not how a political reckoning is made--but by briefly recalling each point to you, and treating you who hear me both as auditors of my account and witnesses to the facts. For that policy of mine which he denounces caused the Thebans, instead of joining Philip, as all expected them to do, in the invasion of our country, to range themselves by our side and stay his progress. It caused the war to take place not in Attica, but on the confines of Boeotia, eighty miles from the city. Instead of our being harried and plundered by freebooters from Euboea, it gave peace to Attica from the side of the sea throughout the war. Instead of Philip's taking Byzantium and becoming master of the Hellespont, it caused the Byzantines to join us in the war against him. Can such achievements, think you, be reckoned up like counters? Are we to cancel them out, rather than provide that they shall be remembered for all time? I need not now add that it fell to others to taste the barbarity which is to be seen in every case in which Philip got any one finally into his power; while you reaped (and quite rightly) the fruits of the generosity which he feigned while he was bringing within his grasp all that remained. But I pass this over.

Nay, I will not even hesitate to say, that one who wished to review an orator's career straightforwardly and without misrepresentation, would not have included in his charges such matters as you just now spoke of--making up illustrations, and mimicking words and gestures. Of course the fortune which befell the Hellenes--surely you see this?--was entirely due to my using this word instead of that, or waving my hand in one direction rather than the other! He would have inquired, by reference to the actual facts, what resources and what forces the city had at her command when I entered political life; what I subsequently collected for her when
I took control; and what was the condition of our adversaries. Then if I had diminished our forces, he would have proved that the fault lay at my door; but if I had greatly increased them, he would have abstained from deliberate misrepresentation. But since you have avoided such an inquiry, I will undertake it; and do you, gentlemen, observe whether my argument is just.

The military resources of the city included the islanders--and not all, but only the weakest. For neither Chios nor Rhodes nor Corcyra was with us. Their contribution in money came to 45 talents, and these had been collected in advance. Infantry and cavalry, besides our own, we had none. But the circumstance which was most alarming to us and most favorable to our enemies was that these men had contrived that all our neighbors should be more inclined to enmity than to friendship--the Megareans, the Thebans, and the Euboeans. Such was the position of the city at the time; and what I say admits of no contradiction. Now
consider the position of Philip, with whom our conflict lay. In the first place, he held absolute sway over his followers--and this for purposes of war is the greatest of all advantages. Next, his followers had their weapons in their hands always. Then he was well off for money, and did whatever he resolved to do, without giving warning of it by decrees, or debating about it in public, or being put on trial by dishonest accusers, or defending himself against indictments for illegality, or being bound to render an account to any one. He was himself absolute master, commander, and lord of all. But I who was set to oppose him--for this inquiry too it is just to make--what had I under my control? Nothing! For, to begin with, the very right to address you--the only right I had--you extended to Philip's hirelings in the same measure as to me; and as often as they defeated me--and this frequently happened, whatever the reason on each occasion--so often you went away leaving a resolution recorded in favor of the enemy. But in spite of all these disadvantages, I won for you the alliance of the Euboeans, Achaeans, Corinthians, Thebans, Megareans, Leucadians, and Corcyreans, from whom were collected--apart from their citizen-troops--15,000 mercenaries and 2,000 cavalry.

And I instituted a money-contribution, on as large a scale as I could. But if you refer, Aeschines, to what was fair as between ourselves and the Thebans or the Byzantines or the Euboeans--if at this time you talk to us of equal shares--you must be ignorant, in the first place, of the fact that in former days also, out of those ships of war, three hundred in all, which fought for the Hellenes, Athens provided two hundred, and did not think herself unfairly used, or let herself be seen arraigning those who had counseled her action, or taking offence at the arrangement. It would have been shameful. No! men saw her rendering thanks to Heaven, because when a common peril beset the Hellenes, she had provided double as much as all the rest to secure the deliverance of all. Moreover, it is but a hollow benefit that you are conferring upon your countrymen by your dishonest charges against me. Why do you tell them now, what course they ought to have taken? Why did you not propose such a course at the time (for you were in Athens, and were present) if it was possible in the midst of those critical times, when we had to accept, not what we chose, but what circumstances allowed; since there was one at hand, bidding against us, and ready to welcome those whom we rejected, and to pay them into the bargain.

But if I am accused to-day, for what I have actually done, what if at the time I had haggled over these details, and the other states had gone off and joined Philip, and he had become master at once of Euboea and Thebes and Byzantium? What do you think these impious men would then have done? What would they have said? Would they not have declared that the states had been surrendered? that they had been driven away, when they wished to be on your side? 'See,' they would have said (would they not?), 'he has obtained through the Byzantines the command of the Hellespont and the control of the corn trade of Hellas; and through the Thebans a trying border war has been brought into Attica; and owing to the pirates who sail from Euboea, the sea has become unnavigable,' and much more in addition. A villainous thing, men of Athens, is the dishonest accuser always--villainous, and in every way malignant and fault-finding! Aye, and this miserable creature is a fox by nature, that has never done anything honest or gentlemanly--a very tragical ape, a clodhopping Oenomaus, a counterfeit orator! Where is the profit to your country from your cleverness? Do you instruct us now about things that are past? It is as though a doctor, when he was paying his visits to the sick, were to give them no advice or instructions to enable them to become free from their illness, but, when one of his patients died and the customary offerings were being paid him, were to explain, as he followed to the tomb, 'if this man had done such and such things, he would not have died.' Crazy fool! Do you tell us this now?

Nor again will you find that the defeat--if you exult at it, when you ought to groan, accursed man!--was determined by anything that was within my control. Consider the question thus. In no place to which I was sent by you as ambassador, did I ever come away defeated by the ambassadors of Philip--not from Thessaly nor from Ambracia, not from the Illyrians nor from the Thracian princes, not from Byzantium nor from any other place, nor yet, on the last occasion, from Thebes. But every place in which his ambassadors were defeated in argument, he proceeded to attack and subdue by force of arms. Do you then require those places at my hands? Are you not ashamed to jeer at a man as a coward, and in the same breath to require him to prove superior, by his own unaided efforts, to the army of Philip--and that with no weapons to use but words? For what else was at my disposal? I could not control the spirit of each soldier, or the fortune of the combatants, or the generalship displayed, of which,
in your perversity, you demand an account from me.

No; but every investigation that can be made as regards those duties for which an orator should be held responsible, I bid you make. I crave no mercy. And what are those duties? To discern events in their beginnings, to foresee what is coming, and to forewarn others. These things I have done. Again, it is his duty to reduce to the smallest possible compass, wherever he finds them, the slowness, the hesitation, the ignorance, the contentiousness, which are the errors inseparably connected with the constitution of all city-states; while, on the other hand, he must stimulate men to unity, friendship, and eagerness to perform their duty. All these things I have done, and no one can discover any dereliction of duty on my part at any time. If one were to ask any person whatever, by what means Philip had accomplished the majority of his successes, every one would reply that it was by means of his army, and by giving presents and corrupting those in charge of affairs. Now I had no control or command of the forces: neither, then, does the responsibility for anything that was done in that sphere concern me. And further, in the matter of being or not being corrupted by bribes, I have defeated Philip. For just as the bidder has conquered one who accepts his money, if he effects his purchase, so one who refuses to accept it [and is not corrupted] has conquered the bidder. In all, therefore, in which I am concerned, the city has suffered no
defeat.

The justification, then, with which I furnished the defendant for such a motion as he proposed with regard to me, consisted (along with many other points) of the facts which I have described, and others like them. I will now proceed to that justification which all of you supplied. For immediately after the battle, the People, who knew and had seen all that I did, and now stood in the very midst of the peril and terror, at a moment when it would not have been surprising if the majority had shown some harshness towards me--the People, I say, in the first place carried my proposals for ensuring the safety of the city; and all the measures undertaken for its protection--the disposition of the garrisons, the entrenchments, the funds for the fortifications--were all provided for by decrees which I proposed.

And, in the second place, when the People chose a corn-commissioner, out of all Athens they elected me. Subsequently all those who were interested in injuring me combined, and assailed me with indictments, prosecutions after audit, impeachments, and all such proceedings--not in their own names at first, but through the agency of men behind whom, they thought, they would best be screened against recognition. For you doubtless know and remember that during the early part of that period I was brought to trial every day; and neither the
desperation of Sosicles, nor the dishonest misrepresentations of Philocrates, nor the frenzy of Diondas and Melantus, nor any other expedient, was left untried by them against me. And in all these trials, thanks to the gods above all, but secondarily to you and the rest of the Athenians, I was acquitted--and justly; for such a decision is in accordance both with truth and with the credit of jurors who have taken their oath, and given a verdict in conformity with it. So whenever I was impeached, and you absolved me and did not give the prosecutor the necessary fraction of the votes, you were voting that my policy was the best. Whenever I was acquitted upon an indictment, it was a proof that my motion and proposals were according to law. Whenever you set your seal to my accounts at an audit, you confessed in addition that I had acted throughout with uprightness and integrity. And this being so, what epithet was it fitting or just that Ctesiphon should apply to my actions? Was it not that which he saw applied by the People, and by juries on their oath, and ratified by Truth in the judgment of all men?

'Yes,' he replies, 'but Cephalus' boast was a noble one--that he had never been indicted at all.' True, and a happy thing also it was for him. But why should one who has often been tried, but has never been convicted of crime, deserve to incur criticism any the more on that account? Yet in truth, men of Athens, so far as Aeschines is concerned, I too can make this noble boast that Cephalus made. For he has never yet preferred or prosecuted any indictment against me; so that by you at least, Aeschines, I am admitted to be no worse a citizen than Cephalus.

His want of feeling and his malignity may be seen in many ways, and not least in the remarks which he made about fortune. For my part, I think that, as a rule, when one human being reproaches another with his fortune, he is a fool. For when he who thinks himself most prosperous and fancies his fortune most excellent, does not know whether it will remain so until the evening, how can it be right to speak of one's fortune, or to taunt another with his? But since Aeschines adopts a tone of lofty superiority upon this as upon many other subjects, observe, men of Athens, how much more truthful and more becoming in a human being my own remarks upon Aeschines' fortune will be. I believe that the fortune of this city is good; and I see that the God of Dodona also declares this to you through his oracle. But I think that the prevailing fortune of mankind as a whole to-day is grievous and terrible. For what man, Hellene or foreigner, has not tasted abundance of evil at this present time? Now the fact that we chose the noblest course, and that we are actually better off than those Hellenes who expected to live in prosperity if they sacrificed us, I ascribe to the good fortune of the city. But in so far as we failed, in so far as everything did not fall out in accordance with our wishes, I consider that the city has received the share which was due to
us of the fortune of mankind in general. But my personal fortune, and that of every individual among us, ought, I think, in fairness to be examined with reference to our personal circumstances. That is my judgment with regard to fortune, and I believe (as I think you also do) that my judgment is correct and just. But Aeschines asserts that my personal fortune has more influence than the fortune of the city as a community--the insignificant and evil more than the good and important! How can this be?

If, however, you determine at all costs to scrutinize my fortune, Aeschines, then compare it with your own; and if you find that mine is better than yours, then cease to revile it. Examine it, then, from the very beginning. And, in Heaven's name, let no one condemn me for any want of good taste. For I neither regard one who speaks insultingly of poverty, nor one who prides himself on having been brought up in affluence, as a man of sense. But the slanders and misrepresentations of this unfeeling man oblige me to enter upon a discussion of this sort; and I will conduct it with as much moderation as the facts allow.

I then, Aeschines, had the advantage as a boy of attending the schools which became my position, and of possessing as much as one who is to do nothing ignoble owing to poverty must possess. When I passed out of boyhood, my life corresponded with my upbringing--I provided choruses and equipped warships; I paid the war-tax; I neglected none of the paths to distinction in public or private life, but gave my services both to my country and my friends; and when I thought fit to enter public life, the measures which I decided to adopt were of such a character that I have been crowned many times both by my country and by many other Hellenic peoples, while not even you, my enemies, attempt to say that my choice was not at least an honorable one. Such is the fortune which has accompanied my life, and though I might say much more about it, I refrain from doing so, in my anxiety not to annoy any one by the expression of my pride. And you--the lofty personage, the despiser of others--what has been your fortune when compared with this?--the fortune, thanks to which you were brought up as a boy in the depths of indigence, in close attendance upon the school along with your father, pounding up the ink, sponging down the forms, sweeping the attendants' room, occupying the position of a menial, not of a free-born boy! Then, when you became a man, you used to read out the books to your mother at her initiations, and help her in the rest of the hocus-pocus, by night dressing the initiated in fawn skins, drenching them from the bowl, purifying them and wiping them down with the clay and the bran, and (when they were purified) bidding
them stand up and say, 'The ill is done, the good begun,' priding yourself upon raising the shout of joy more loudly than any one had ever done before--and I can believe it, for, when his voice is so loud, you dare not imagine that his shout is anything but superlatively fine.

But by day you used to lead those noble companies through the streets, men crowned with fennel and white poplar, throttling the puff-adders and waving them over your head, crying out 'Euoe, Saboe,' and dancing to the tune of 'Hyes Attes, Attes Hyes'--addressed by the old hags as leader, captain, ivy-bearer, fan-bearer, and so on; and as the reward of your services getting sops and twists and barley-bannocks! Who would not congratulate himself with good reason on such things and bless his own fortune? But when you were enrolled among your fellow parishioners, by whatever means (for of that I say nothing)--when, I say, you were enrolled, you at once selected the noblest of occupations, that of a clerk and servant to petty magistrates. And when at length you escaped from this condition also, after yourself doing all that you impute to others, you in no way--Heaven knows!--disgraced your previous record by the life which you subsequently lived; for you hired yourself out to the actors Simylus and Socrates--the Roarers, they were nicknamed --and played as a third-rate actor, collecting figs and bunches of grapes and olives, like a fruiterer gathering from other peoples' farms, and getting more out of this than out of the dramatic competitions in which you were competing for your lives; for there was war without truce or herald between yourselves and the spectators; and the many wounds you received from them make it natural for you to jeer at the cowardice of those who have had no such experiences. But I will pass over all that might be accounted for by your poverty, and proceed to my charges against your character itself.

For you chose a line of political action (when at length it occurred to you to take up politics too), in pursuance of which, when your country's fortune was good, you lived the life of a hare, in fear and trembling, always expecting a thrashing for the crimes which lay on your conscience; whereas all have seen your boldness amid the misfortunes of others. But when a man plucks up courage at the death of a thousand of his fellow citizens, what does he deserve to suffer at the hands of the living? I have much more to say about him, but I will leave it unsaid. It is not for me, I think, to mention lightly all the infamy and disgrace which I could prove to be connected with him, but only so much as it is not discreditable to myself to speak of.

And now review the history of your life and of mine, side by side--good temperedly, Aeschines, not unkindly: and then ask these gentlemen which fortune, of the two, each of them would choose. You taught letters; I attended school. You conducted initiations; I was initiated. You were a clerk; I a member of the Assembly: you, a third-rate actor, I a spectator of the play. You used to be driven from the stage, while I hissed. Your political life has all been lived for the good of our enemies, mine for the good of my country. To pass over all besides, even on this very day, I am being examined with regard to my qualification for a crown--it is already admitted that I am clear of all crimes; while you have already
the reputation of a dishonest informer, and for you the issue at stake is whether you are to continue such practices, or to be stopped once for all, through failing to obtain a fifth part of the votes. A good fortune indeed--can you not see?--is that which has accompanied your life, that you should denounce mine!

And now let me read to you the evidence of the public burdens which I have undertaken; and side by side with them, do you, Aeschines, read the speeches which you used to murder--'I leave the abysm of death and gates of gloom,' and 'Know that I am not fain ill-news to bring', and 'evil in evil wise', may you be brought to perdition, by the gods above all, and then by all those here present, villainous citizen, villainous third-rate actor that you are. (To the clerk.) Read the
evidence.

[The evidence is read.]

Such was I in my relation to the State. And as to my private life, unless you all know that I was open-hearted and generous and at the disposal of all who had need of me, I am silent; I prefer to tell you nothing, and to produce no evidence whatever, to show whether I ransomed some from the enemy, or helped others to give their daughters in marriage, or rendered any such services. For my principle may perhaps be expressed thus. I think that one who has received a kindness ought to remember it all his life; but that the doer of the kindness should forget it once for all; if the former is to behave like a good man, the latter like one free from all meanness. To be always recalling and speaking of one's own benefactions is almost like upbraiding the recipients of them. I will do nothing of the kind, and will not be led into doing so. Whatever be the opinion that has been formed of me in these respects, with that I am content.

But I desire to be rid of personal topics, and to say a little more to you about public affairs. For if, Aeschines, you can mention one of all those who dwell beneath the sun above us, Hellene or foreigner, who has not suffered under the absolute sway, first of Philip, and now of Alexander, so be it! I concede that it is my fortune or misfortune, whichever you are pleased to call it, that has been to blame for everything. But if many of those who have never once even seen me or
heard my voice have suffered much and terribly--and not individuals alone, but whole cities and nations--how much more just and truthful it is to regard the common fortune (as it seems to be) of all mankind, and a certain stubborn drift of events in the wrong direction, as the cause of these sufferings.

Such considerations, however, you discard. You impute the blame to me, whose political life has been lived among my own fellow countrymen--and that, though you know that your slander falls in part (if not entirely) upon all of them, and above all upon yourself. For if, when I took part in the discussion of public affairs, I had had absolute power, it would have been possible for all of you, the other orators, to lay the blame on me. But if you were present at every meeting of the Assembly; if the city always brought forward questions of policy for public consideration; if at the time my policy appeared the best to every one, and above all to you (for it was certainly from no goodwill that you relinquished to me the hopes, the admiration, the honors, which all attached themselves to my policy at that time, but obviously because the truth was too strong for you, and you had nothing better to propose); then surely you are guilty of monstrous iniquity, in finding fault to-day with a policy, than which, at the time, you could propose nothing better. Among all the rest of mankind, I observe that some such principles as the following have been, as it were, determined and ordained. If a man commits a deliberate crime, indignation and punishment are ordained against him. If he commits an involuntary mistake, instead of punishment, he is to receive pardon. If, without crime or mistake, one who has given himself up wholly to that which seems to be for the advantage of all has, in company with all, failed to achieve success, then it is just, not to reproach or revile such a man, but to sympathize with him. Moreover, it will be seen that all these principles are not so ordained in the laws alone. Nature herself has laid them down in her unwritten law, and in the moral consciousness of mankind. Aeschines, then, has so far surpassed all mankind in brutality and in the art of misrepresentation, that he actually denounces me for things which he himself mentioned under the name of misfortunes.

In addition to everything else, as though he had himself always spoken straightforwardly and in loyalty, he bade you keep your eyes on me carefully, and make sure that I did not mislead or deceive you. He called me 'a clever speaker', 'a wizard', 'a sophist', and so on: just as if it followed that when a man had the first word and attributed his own qualities to another, the truth was really as he stated, and his hearers would not inquire further who he himself was, that said such things. But I am sure that you all know this man, and are aware that these qualities belong to him far more than to me. And again, I am quite sure that my cleverness--yes, let the word pass; though I observe that the influence of a speaker depends for the most part on his audience; for in proportion to the welcome and the goodwill which you accord to each speaker is the credit which he obtains for wisdom;--I am sure, I say, that if I too possess any such skill, you will all find it constantly fighting on your behalf in affairs of State, never in opposition to you, never for private ends; while the skill of Aeschines, on the contrary, is employed, not only in upholding the cause of the enemy, but in attacking any one who has annoyed him or come into collision with him anywhere.

He neither employs it uprightly, nor to promote the interests of the city. For a good and honorable citizen ought not to require from a jury, who have come into court to represent the interests of the community, that they shall give their sanction to his anger, or his enmity, or any other such passion; nor ought he to come before you to gratify such feelings. It were best that he had no such passions in his nature at all; but if they are really inevitable, then he should keep them tame and subdued. Under what circumstances, then, should a politician and an orator show passion? When any of the vital interests of his country are at stake; when it is with its enemies that the People has to deal: those are the circumstances. For then is the opportunity of a loyal and gallant citizen. But that when he has never to this day demanded my punishment, either in the name of the city or in his own, for any public--nor, I will add, for any private--crime, he should have come here with a trumped-up charge against the grant of a crown and a vote of thanks, and should have spent so many words upon it--that is a sign of personal enmity and jealousy and meanness, not of any good quality. And that he should further have discarded every form of lawsuit against myself, and should have come here to-day to attack the defendant, is the very extremity of baseness. It shows, I think, Aeschines, that your motive in undertaking this suit was your desire, not to exact vengeance for any crime, but to give a display of rhetoric and elocution. Yet it is not his language, Aeschines, that deserves our esteem in an orator, nor the pitch of his voice, but his choice of the aims which
the people chooses, his hatred or love of those whom his country loves or hates. He whose heart is so disposed will always speak with loyal intent; but he who serves those from whom the city foresees danger to herself, does not ride at the same anchor as the People, and therefore does not look for safety to the same quarter.

But I do, mark you! For I have made the interests of my countrymen my own, and have counted nothing as reserved for my own private advantage. What? You have not done so either? How can that be, when immediately after the battle you went your way as an ambassador to Philip, the author of the calamities which befell your country at that time; and that, despite the fact that until then you always denied this intimacy with him, as every one knows? But what is meant by a deceiver of the city? Is it not one who does not say what he thinks? Upon whom does the herald justly pronounce the curse? Is it not upon such a man as this? With what greater crime can one charge a man who is an orator, than that of saying one thing and thinking another? Such a man you have been found to be. And after this do you open your mouth, or dare to look this audience in the face? Do you imagine that they do not know who you are? or that the slumber of forgetfulness has taken such hold upon them all, that they do not remember the speeches which you used to deliver during the war, when you declared with imprecations and oaths that you had nothing to do with Philip, and that I was bringing this accusation against you, when it was not true, to satisfy my personal
enmity? But so soon as the news of the battle had come, you thought no more of all this, but at once avowed and professed that you stood on a footing of friendship and guest-friendship with him; though these were nothing but your hireling-service under other names; for upon what honest or equal basis could Aeschines, the son of Glaucothea the tambourine--player, enjoy the guest-friendship, or the friendship, or the acquaintance of Philip? I cannot see. In fact, you had been hired by him to ruin the interests of these your countrymen. And yet, though your own treason has been so plainly detected--though you have been an informer against yourself after the event--you still revile me, and reproach me with crimes of which, you will find, any one is more guilty than I.

Many a great and noble enterprise, Aeschines, did this city undertake and succeed in, inspired by me; and she did not forget them. It is a proof of this, that when, immediately after the event, the People had to elect one who should pronounce the oration over the dead, and you were nominated, they did not elect you, for all your fine voice, nor Demades, who had just negotiated the Peace, nor Hegemon, nor any other member of your party: they elected me. And when you and Pythocles came forward in a brutal and shameless fashion, God knows! and made the same charges against me as you are making again to-day, and abused me, the People elected me even more decidedly. And the reason you know well; but I will tell it you nevertheless. They knew for themselves both the loyalty and zeal which inspired my conduct of affairs, and the iniquity of yourself and your friends. For what you denied with oaths when our cause was prosperous, you admitted in the hour of the city's failure; and those, accordingly, who were only enabled by the misfortunes of their country to express their views without fear, they decided to have been enemies of their own for a long while, though only then did they stand revealed.

And further, they thought that one who was to pronounce an oration over the dead, and to adorn their valor, should not have come beneath the same roof, nor shared the same libation, as those who were arrayed against them; that he should not there join with those who with their own hands had slain them, in the revel and the triumph-song over the calamities of the Hellenes, and then come home and receive honor--that he should not play the mourner over their fate with his voice, but should grieve for them in his heart. What they required they saw in themselves and in me, but not in you; and this was why they appointed me, and not any of you. Nor, when the people acted thus, did the fathers and brothers of the slain, who were then publicly appointed to conduct the funeral, act otherwise. For since (in accordance with the ordinary custom) they had to hold the funeral-feast in the house of the nearest of kin, as it were, to the slain, they held it at my house, and with reason; for though by birth each was more nearly akin to his dead than I, yet none stood nearer to them all in common. For he who had their life and their success most at heart, had also, when they had suffered what I would they had not, the greatest share of sorrow for them all.

(To the clerk.) Read him the epitaph which the city resolved to inscribe above them at the public cost; (to Aeschines) that even by these very lines, Aeschines, you may know that you are a man destitute of feeling, a dishonest accuser, an abominable wretch!


The Inscription.
These for their country, fighting side by side,
By deeds of arms dispelled the foemen's pride.
heir lives they saved not, bidding Death make clear--
Impartial Judge!--their courage or their fear.
For Greece they fought, lest, 'neath the yoke brought low,
In thraldom she th' oppressor's scorn should know.
Now in the bosom of their fatherland
After their toil they rest--'tis God's command.
'Tis God's alone from failure free to live;
Escape from Fate to no man doth He give.

Do you hear, Aeschines [in these very lines], 'Tis God's alone from failure free to live'? Not to the statesman has he ascribed the power to secure success for those who strive, but to the gods. Why then, accursed man, do you revile me, for our failure, in words which I pray the gods to turn upon the heads of you and yours But, even after all the other lying accusations which he has brought against me, the thing which amazed me most of all, men of Athens, was that when he mentioned what had befallen the city, he did not think of it as a loyal and upright citizen would have thought. He shed no tears; he felt no emotion of sorrow in his heart: he lifted up his voice, he exulted, he strained his throat, evidently in the belief that he was accusing me, though in truth he was giving us an illustration, to his own discredit, of the utter difference between his feelings and those of others, at the painful events which had taken place. But surely one who professes, as Aeschines professes now, to care for the laws and the constitution, ought to show, if nothing else, at least that he feels the same grieves and the same joys as the People, and has not, by his political profession, ranged himself on the side of their opponents. That you have done the latter is manifest today, when you pretend that the blame for everything is mine, and that it is through me that the city was plunged in trouble: though it was not through my statesmanship or my policy, gentlemen, that you began to help the Hellenes: for were you to grant me this--that it was through me that you had resisted the dominion which was being
established over the Hellenes--you would have granted me a testimonial which all those that you have given to others together could not equal. But neither would I make such an assertion; for it would be unjust to you; nor, I am sure, would you concede its truth: and if Aeschines were acting honestly, he would not have been trying to deface and misrepresent the greatest of your glories, in order to satisfy his hatred towards me.

But why do I rebuke him for this, when he has made other lying charges against me, which are more outrageous by far? For when a man charges me--I call Heaven and Earth to witness!--with philippizing, what will he not say? By Heracles and all the gods, if one had to inquire truthfully, setting aside all calumny and all expression of animosity, who are in reality the men upon whose heads all would naturally and justly lay the blame for what has taken place, you would find that it was those in each city who resemble Aeschines, not those who resemble me. For they, when Philip's power was weak and quite insignificant--when we repeatedly warned and exhorted you and showed you what was best--they, to satisfy their own avarice, sacrificed the interests of the community, each group deceiving and corrupting their own fellow citizens, until they brought them into bondage. Thus the Thessalians were treated by Daochus, Cineas, and Thrasydaeus; the Arcadians by Cercidas, Hieronymus and Eucampidas; the Argives by Myrtis, Teledamus, and Mnaseas; the Eleans by Euxitheus, Cleotimus and Aristaechmus; the Messenians by the sons of the godforsaken Philiadas--Neon and Thrasylochus; the Sicymians by Aristratus and Epichares; the Corinthians by Deinarchus and Demaretus; the Megareans by Ptoeodorus, Helixus and Perillus; the Thebans by Timolaus, Theogeiton, and Anemoetas; the Euboeans by Hipparchus and Sosistratus. Daylight will fail me before the list of the traitors is complete. All these, men of Athens, are men who pursue the same designs in their own cities, as my opponents pursue among you--abominable men, flatterers, evil spirits, who
have hacked the limbs each of his own fatherland, and like boon companions have pledged away their freedom, first to Philip and now to Alexander; men whose measure of happiness is their belly, and their lowest instincts; while as for freedom, and the refusal to acknowledge any man as lord--the standard and rule of good to the Hellenes of old--they have flung it to the ground.

Of this shameful and notorious conspiracy and wickedness--or rather (to speak with all earnestness, men of Athens), of this treason against the freedom of the Hellenes--Athens has been guiltless in the eyes of all men, in consequence of my statesmanship, as I have been guiltless in your eyes. And do you then ask me for what merits I count myself worthy to receive honor? I tell you that at a time when every politician in Hellas had been corrupted--beginning with yourself--[firstly by Philip, and now by Alexander], no opportunity that offered, no generous language, no grand promises, no hopes, no fears, nor any other motive, tempted or induced me to betray one jot of what I believed to be the rights and interests of the city; nor, of all the counsel that I have given to my fellow countrymen, up to this day, has any ever been given (as it has by you) with the scales of the mind inclining to the side of gain, but all out of an upright, honest, uncorrupted soul. I have taken the lead in greater affairs than any man of my own time, and my administration has been sound and honest throughout all. That is why I count myself worthy of honor. But as for the fortifications and entrenchments, for which you ridiculed me, I judge them to be deserving, indeed, of gratitude and commendation--assuredly they are so--but I set them far below my own political services. Not with stones, nor with bricks, did I fortify this city. Not such are the works upon which I pride myself most. But would you inquire honestly wherein my fortifications consist? You will find them in munitions of war, in cities, in countries, in harbors, in ships, in horses, and in men ready to defend my fellow countrymen. These are the defenses I have set to protect Attica, so far as by human calculation it could be done; and with these I have fortified our whole territory--not the circuit of the Peiraeus or of the city alone. Nor in fact, did I prove inferior to Philip in calculations--far from it!--or in preparations for war; but the generals of the confederacy, and their forces, proved inferior to him in fortune. Where are the proofs of these things? They are clear and manifest. I bid you consider them.

What was the duty of a loyal citizen--one who was acting with all forethought and zeal and uprightness for his country's good? Was it not to make Euboea the bulwark of Attica on the side of the sea, and Boeotia on that of the mainland, and on that of the regions towards the Peloponnese, our neighbors in that direction? Was it not to provide for the corn-trade, and to ensure that it should pass along a continuously friendly coast all the way to the Peiraeus? Was it not to preserve the places which were ours--Proconnesus, the Chersonese, Tenedos--by dispatching
expeditions to aid them, and proposing and moving resolutions accordingly; and to secure the friendship and alliance of the rest--Byzantium, Tenedos, Euboea? Was it not to take away the greatest of the resources which the enemy possessed, and to add what was lacking to those of the city? All this has been accomplished by my decrees and by the measures which I have taken; and all these measures, men of Athens, will be found by any one who will examine them without jealousy, to have been correctly planned, and executed with entire honesty: the opportunity for each step was not, you will find, neglected or left unrecognized or thrown away by me, and nothing was left undone, which it was within the power and the reasoning capacity of a single man to effect. But if the might of some Divine Power, or the inferiority of our generals, or the wickedness of those who were betraying your cities, or all these things together, continuously injured our whole cause, until they effected its overthrow, how is Demosthenes at fault? Had there been in each of the cities of Hellas one man, such as I was, as I stood at my own post in your midst-- nay, if all Thessaly and all Arcadia had each had but one man animated by the same spirit as myself--not one Hellenic people, either beyond or on this side of Thermopylae, would have experienced the evils which they now suffer. All would have been dwelling in liberty and independence, free from all fears, secure and prosperous, each in their own land, rendering thanks for all these great blessings to you and the rest of the Athenian people, through me. But that you may know that in my anxiety to avoid jealousy, I am using language which is far from adequate to the actual facts, (to the clerk) read me this; and take and recite the list of the expeditions sent out in accordance with my decrees.

[The list of expeditions is read]

These measures, and others like them, Aeschines, were the measures which it was the duty of a loyal and gallant citizen to take. If they were successful, it was certain that we should be indisputably the strongest power, and that with justice as well as in fact: and now that they have resulted otherwise, we are left with at least an honorable name. No man casts reproach either upon the city, or upon the choice which she made: they do but upbraid Fortune, who decided the issue thus. It was not, God knows, a citizen's duty to abandon his country's interests, to sell
his services to her opponents, and cherish the opportunities of the enemy instead of those of his country. Nor was it, on the one hand, to show his malice against the man who had faced the task of proposing and moving measures worthy of the city, and persisting in that intention; while, on the other hand, he remembered and kept his eyes fixed upon any private annoyance which another had caused him: nor was it to maintain a wicked and festering inactivity, as you so often do. Assuredly there is an inactivity that is honest and brings good to the State--the inactivity which you, the majority of the citizens, observe in all sincerity. But
that is not the inactivity of Aeschines. Far from it! He, on the contrary, retires just when he chooses, from public life (and he often chooses to do so), that he may watch for the moment when you will be sated with the continual speeches of the same adviser, or when fortune has thrown some obstacle in your path, or some other disagreeable event has happened (for in the life of man many things are possible); and then, when such an opportunity comes, suddenly, like a gale of wind, out of his retirement he comes forth an orator, with his voice in training, and his phrases and his sentences collected; and these he strings together lucidly, without pausing for breath, though they bring with them no profit, no accession of
anything good, but only calamity to one or another of his fellow citizens, and shame to all alike. Surely, Aeschines, if all this practice and study sprang from an honest heart, resolved to pursue the interests of your country, the fruits of it should have been noble and honorable and profitable to all--alliances of cities, supplies of funds, opening of ports, enactment of beneficial laws, acts of opposition to our proved enemies.

It was for all such services that men looked in bygone days; and the past has offered, to any loyal and gallant citizen, abundant opportunities of displaying them: but nowhere in the ranks of such men will you ever be found to have stood--not first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor fifth, nor sixth, nor in any position whatsoever; at least, not in any matters whereby your country stood to gain. For what alliance has the city gained by negotiations of yours? What assistance, what fresh access of goodwill or fame? What diplomatic or administrative action of yours has brought new dignity to the city? What department of our home affairs, or our relations with Hellenic and foreign states, over which you have presided, has shown any improvement? Where are your ships? Where are your munitions of war? Where are your dockyards? Where are the walls that you have repaired? Where are your cavalry? Where in the world is your sphere of usefulness? What pecuniary assistance have you ever given, as a good and generous fellow citizen, either to rich or poor? 'But, my good sir, 'you say, 'if I have done none of these things, I have at least given my loyalty and goodwill.' Where? When? Why, even at a time when all who ever opened their lips upon the platform contributed voluntarily to save the city, till, last of all, Aristonicus gave what he had collected to enable him to regain his civil rights--even then, most iniquitous of men! you never came forward or made any contribution whatever: and assuredly it was not from poverty, when you had inherited more than five talents out of the estate of your father-in-law Philo, and had received two talents subscribed by the leaders of the Naval Boards, for your damaging attack upon my Naval Law. But I will say no more about this, lest by passing from subject to subject I should break away from the matter in hand. It is at least plain that your failure to contribute was not due to your poverty, but to your anxiety to do nothing in opposition to those whose interest is the guide of your whole public life. On what occasions, then, do your spirit and your brilliancy show themselves? When something must be done to injure your fellow countrymen--then your voice is most glorious, your memory most perfect; then you are a prince of actors, a Theocrines on the tragic stage!

Again, you have recalled the gallant men of old, and you do well to do so. Yet it is not just, men of Athens, to take advantage of the good feeling which you may be relied upon to entertain towards the dead, in order to examine me before you by their standard, and compare me, who am still living amongst you, with them. Who in all the world does not know that against the living there is always more or less of secret jealousy, while none, not even their enemies, hate the dead any more? And am I, in spite of this law of nature, to be judged and examined to-day by the standard of those who were before me? By no means! It would be neither just nor fair, Aeschines. But let me be compared with yourself, or with any of those who have adopted the same policy as yourself, and are still alive. And consider this also. Which of these alternatives is the more honorable? Which is better for the city?--that the good services done by men of former times--tremendous, nay even beyond all description though they may be--should be made an excuse for exposing to ingratitude and contumely those that are rendered to the present generation? or that all who act in loyalty should have a share in the honors and the kindness which our fellow citizens dispense?

Aye, and (if I must say this after all) the policy and the principles which I have adopted will be found, if rightly viewed, to resemble and to have the same aims as those of the men who in that age received praise; while yours resemble those of the dishonest assailants of such persons in those days. For in their time also there were obviously persons who disparaged the living and praised the men of old, acting in the same malicious way as yourself. Do you say then, that I am in no way like them? But are you like them, Aeschines? or your brother? or any other orator of the present day? For my part, I should say, 'None.' Nay, my good sir--to use no other epithet--compare the living with the living, their contemporaries, as men do in every other matter, whether they are comparing poets or choruses or competitors in the games. Because Philammon was not so powerful as Glaucus of Carystus and some other athletes of former times, he did not leave Olympia uncrowned: but because he fought better than all who entered against him, he was crowned and proclaimed victor.

Do you likewise examine me beside the orators of the day--beside yourself, beside any one in the world that you choose. I fear no man's rivalry. For, while the city was still free to choose the best course, and all alike could compete with one another in loyalty to their country, I was found the best adviser of them all. It was by my laws, by my decrees, by my diplomacy, that all was effected. Not one of your party appeared anywhere, unless some insult was to be offered to your fellow countrymen. But when there happened, what I would had never happened--when it was not statesmen that were called to the front, but those who would do the bidding of a master, those who were anxious to earn wages by injuring their country, and to flatter a stranger--then, along with every member of your party, you were found at your post, the grand and resplendent owner of a stud; while I was weak, I confess, yet more loyal to my fellow countrymen than you. Two characteristics, men of Athens, a citizen of a respectable character (for this is perhaps the least invidious phrase that I can apply to myself) must be able to show: when he enjoys authority, he must maintain to the end the policy whose aims are noble action and the pre-eminence of his country: and at all times and in every phase of fortune he must remain loyal. For this depends upon his own nature; while his power and his influence are determined by external causes. And in me, you will find, this loyalty has persisted unalloyed.

For mark this. Not when my surrender was demanded, not when I was called to account before the Amphictyons, not in face either of threats or of promises, not when these accursed men were hounded on against me like wild beasts, have I ever been false to my loyalty towards you. For from the very first, I chose the straight and honest path in public life: I chose to foster the honor, the supremacy, the good name of my country, to seek to enhance them, and to stand or fall with them. I do not walk through the market, cheerful and exultant over the success of strangers, holding out my hand and giving the good tidings to any whom I expect to report my conduct yonder, but shuddering, groaning, bowing myself to the earth, when I hear of the city's good fortune, as do these impious men, who make a mock of the city --not remembering that in so doing they are mocking themselves--while they direct their gaze abroad, and, whenever another has gained success through the failure of the Hellenes, belaud that state of things, and declare that we must see that it endures for all time.

Never, O all ye gods, may any of you consent to their desire! If it can be, may you implant even in these men a better mind and heart. But if they are verily beyond all cure, then bring them and them alone to utter and early destruction, by land and sea. And to us who remain, grant the speediest release from the fears that hang over us, and safety that naught can shake!

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