AESCHINES
§ 1. _Life_
Aeschines was for twenty years a bitter enemy of Demosthenes. This
enmity was perhaps the chief interest in his life; at any rate it is the
dominant motive of his extant speeches. Demosthenes on his side could not
afford to despise an enemy whose biting wit and real gift of eloquence
assured him an attentive hearing, whether in the courts or before the
ecclesia, and thus gave him an influence which the vagueness of his
political views and the instability of his personal character could
never entirely dissipate. Aeschines had no constructive policy, but he
had just the talents which are requisite for the leader of a captious
and malicious opposition. To the fact of the long-maintained hostility
between these two men we owe a good deal of first-hand information about
each of them, both as regards public and private life. It is true that we
cannot accept without reservation the statements and criticisms made by
either speaker about his rival; but in many cases they agree about facts,
though they put different interpretations on them, and so, with care, we
may arrive at a substratum of truth.
Aeschines was born about 390 B.C.[220] His father Atrometus, an Athenian
citizen of pure descent,[221] was exiled by the Thirty, and fled to
Corinth, with his wife. He served for some time as a mercenary soldier in
Asia, and finally returned to Athens, where he kept a school. His wife,
Glaucothea, filled some minor religious office, initiating the neophytes
in certain mysteries, apparently connected with Orphism. Aeschines seems
to have helped both his parents in their work, if we may suppose that
there is a grain of truth mixed with the malice of Demosthenes:
‘You used to fill the ink-pots, sponge the benches, and sweep
the schoolroom, like a slave, not like a gentleman’s son. When
you grew up you helped your mother in her initiations, reciting
the formulas, and making yourself generally useful. All night
long you were wrapping the celebrants in fawn-skins, preparing
their drink-offerings, smearing them with clay and bran,’
etc.[222]
The whole of the description from which the foregoing passage is taken is
an obvious caricature, and its chief value is to show that Demosthenes,
if circumstances had not made him a statesman, might have been a
successful writer of mediocre comedy; but it seems to point to the fact
that Aeschines’ parents were in humble circumstances, that he himself
had a hard life as a boy, and did not enjoy the usual opportunities of
obtaining the kind of education desirable for a statesman.[223] After
this, at an age when other aspirants to public life would have been
studying under teachers of rhetoric, he was forced to earn his living.
He was first clerk to some minor officials, then an actor—according to
Demosthenes he played small parts in an inferior company, and lived
chiefly on the figs and olives with which the spectators pelted him.[224]
He also served as a hoplite, and, by his own account, distinguished
himself at Mantinea and Tamynae. In 357 B.C. he obtained political
employment, first under Aristophon of Azenia, then under Eubulus, and
later we find him acting as clerk of the ecclesia.
He married into a respectable family about 350 B.C., and in 348 B.C. he
first appears in a position of public trust, being appointed a member
of the embassy to Megalopolis in Arcadia. On this occasion he went out
admittedly as an opponent of Philip, but came back a partisan of peace.
The reasons for this change of view will be discussed later. His own
explanation, that he realized war to be impracticable, is reasonable
in itself.[225] Two years later he was associated with Demosthenes in
the famous embassies to Philip, which, after serious delays, resulted
in the unsatisfactory peace of Philocrates. The peace was pronounced by
Demosthenes to be unworthy of Athens,[226] though he urged that, good
or bad, it must be upheld; and besides uttering insinuations against
the conduct of Aeschines as an ambassador, he prepared to prosecute him
for betraying his trust by taking bribes from Philip. He associated
with himself as a prosecutor one Timarchus. Aeschines prepared a
counter-stroke. He prosecuted Timarchus on the ground that he was a
person of notorious immorality, and, as such, debarred from speaking
in public. Timarchus appears to have been found guilty. In 343 B.C.
Demosthenes brought the action in which his speech _de Falsa Legatione_
and that of Aeschines bearing the same title were delivered, and
Aeschines was acquitted by the rather small majority of thirty votes. In
the next year Aeschines prepared for reprisals, but when on the point of
impeaching Demosthenes he in his turn was thwarted by a counter-move on
his rival’s part.[227]
In 339 B.C. Aeschines was a _pylagorus_ at the Amphictyonic Council, and
an inflammatory speech which he made there led to the outbreak of the
Sacred War.
In 337 B.C., the year after the battle of Chaeronea, the proposal of
Ctesiphon to confer a crown on Demosthenes for his services to Athens
gave Aeschines a new weapon with which to strike at his enemy. He
impeached Ctesiphon for illegality. The case was not actually tried
till 330 B.C., when Aeschines, failing to obtain a fifth of the votes,
was fined a thousand drachmae, and, being unable or unwilling to pay,
went into exile. He retired to Asia Minor, and lived either in Ephesus
or Rhodes. He is said by Plutarch to have spent the rest of his life
as a professional Sophist, that is to say, no doubt, as a teacher of
rhetoric;[228] but we have no further information about his life or the
manner or date of his death.
§ 2. _Public Character_
Aeschines cannot be considered as a statesman, since he had no definite
policy. He was, as he admitted himself, an opportunist. ‘Both individual
and state,’ he says, ‘must shift their ground according to change of
circumstances, and aim at what is best for the time’;[229] and though he
claims to be ‘the adviser of the greatest of all cities,’[230] he never
had in public matters any higher principle than this following of the
line of least resistance.
It is necessary, however, to consider whether he was actually the corrupt
politician that Demosthenes makes him out to be.
Athenian opinion with regard to corrupt practices was less strict than
ours; Hyperides admits that there are various degrees of guiltiness in
the matter of receiving bribes; the worst offence is to receive bribes
from improper quarters, _i.e._ from an enemy of the State, and to the
detriment of the State.[231]
This principle implies a corollary that to receive bribes for doing
one’s duty and acting in the best interests of one’s country is a venial
offence, if indeed it is an offence at all; in which case a man’s guilt
or innocence may be a matter for his individual conscience to determine.
Demosthenes definitely accused Aeschines of changing his policy in
consequence of bribes received from Philip. It is known that at the
beginning of his public life he was an opponent of Macedon, and we have
his own account of his conversion on the occasion of the embassy to
Megalopolis:
‘You reproach me for the speech which I made, as an envoy,
before ten thousand people in Arcadia; you say that I have
changed sides, you abject creature, who were nearly branded as
a deserter. The truth is that during the war I tried to the
best of my ability to unite the Arcadians and the rest of the
Greeks against Philip; but when I found that nobody would give
help to Athens, but some were waiting to see what happened and
others were marching against us, and the orators in the city
were using the war as a means of meeting their daily expenses,
I admit that I advised the people to come to terms with Philip,
and make the peace which you, who have never drawn a sword, now
say is disgraceful, though I say that it is far more honourable
than the war.’[232]
After the conclusion of the peace of Philocrates the accusations were
more definite. Demosthenes asserts that Aeschines had private interviews
with Philip when on the second embassy, and that for his services he
received certain lands in Boeotia;[233] he recurs to this charge in the
_de Corona_, many years later. Aeschines does not deny or even mention
this charge either in the speech _On the Embassy_ or in the accusation
of Ctesiphon. Demosthenes, having, apparently, little direct evidence,
tries to establish his case by emphasizing the relations of Aeschines
with the traitor Philocrates; but this is a weak argument, for though
Aeschines at one time boasted of these relations, on a later occasion
he repudiated them, and even ventured to rank Demosthenes himself with
Philocrates.[234] Perhaps we should attach more importance to the
other fact urged by Demosthenes, that Aeschines from time to time urged
the city to accept Philip’s vague promises of good-will; but before we
condemn him on this ground we must recollect that Isocrates, a man of
far greater intelligence than Aeschines, and of undoubted honesty, had
come so completely under the spell of Philip’s personality as to place a
thorough belief in the sincerity of his professions.[235] Aeschines may
have been duped in the same manner.
But the most severe condemnation of Aeschines’ policy is contained in his
own speeches.
During a visit to the Macedonian army in Phocis he was guilty of a
gross piece of bad taste by joining with Philip in dancing the paean to
celebrate the defeat of Phocis. He admits the charge, and maintains that
it was even a proper thing to do.[236] His conduct at the Amphictyonic
Council was far more serious.[237] He was invited to make a speech, and
as he began, was rudely interrupted by a Locrian of Amphissa. In revenge
it ‘occurred to him’[238] to recall the impiety of the Amphissians in
occupying the Cirrhaean plain. He caused to be read aloud the curse
pronounced after the first Sacred War, and by recalling the forgotten
events of past generations worked up his audience to such a pitch of
excitement that on the following morning—for it was too late to take
action that night—the whole population of Delphi marched down to Cirrha,
destroyed the harbour buildings, and set fire to the town. Though this
action undoubtedly plunged Greece into an Amphictyonic War, Aeschines,
quite regardless of the awful consequences, can only dwell upon the
remarkable effects of his own oratory.
§ 3. _Personality_
Something of the personal characteristics of Aeschines may be gathered
from his own writings and those of Demosthenes. He must have been a
man of dignified presence, for even if he only played minor parts,
as Demosthenes so frequently asserts, he acted, on occasion, in good
company, as his enemy, in an unguarded moment, admitted. The conditions
under which Greek tragedy was performed required a majestic bearing even
in a tritagonist, and the taunt of Demosthenes, who calls him ‘a noble
statue,’ makes it certain that Aeschines did not fall short of these
requirements.[239] The words of Demosthenes probably imply that the
dignity was overdone, that the statuesque pose of the ex-actor appeared
pompous and exaggerated in a law-court. Aeschines himself condemned the
use of excited gestures by orators. He urged the necessity of restraint,
and often insisted that an orator should, while speaking, hold his
hand within his robe.[240] This declared prejudice on his part gave
Demosthenes his opportunity for a neat retort—‘You should keep your hand
there, not when you are speaking, but when you go on an embassy.’[241] On
this occasion Demosthenes scored a point, but where wit and repartee were
in question, the honours generally rested with Aeschines.
Another striking characteristic of Aeschines was his magnificent voice,
which he used with practised skill; Demosthenes, who had serious natural
disabilities as a speaker, envied him bitterly, and in consequence was
always trying to ridicule his delivery.[242] Conscious, no doubt, of his
natural advantages, to which Demosthenes had once paid a more or less
sincere tribute,[243] Aeschines was apparently unmoved by these taunts;
but he seems to have been deeply injured when Demosthenes compared him to
the Sirens, whose voices charm men to their destruction. His indignation
can find no repartee; he can only expostulate that the charge is
indecent, and even if it were true, Demosthenes is not a fit man to bring
it; only a man of deeds would be a worthy accuser; his rival is nothing
but a bundle of words. Here, recovering himself a little, he delivers
himself of the idea that Demosthenes is as empty as a flute—no good for
anything if you take away the mouthpiece.[244]
In the case of other orators I have laid but little stress on personal
characteristics, because as a rule the orator must be judged apart from
his qualities as a man. In considering Isaeus, for instance—an extreme
case, certainly—personal qualities and peculiarities are of no importance
at all. But so many personal traits appear in the writings of Aeschines
that we cannot afford to neglect them; they form important data for our
estimate of him, both as a speaker and a public character. There is some
excuse, then, for dealing at greater length with his personality than
with that of any other of the Attic orators. The question of his public
morality has already to some extent been discussed;[245] an examination
of his more private qualities may possibly throw further light on the
question of his culpability.
He was, as we saw, to some extent a self-made man; he had at least risen
far above the station in which he was born. All through his speeches we
find traces of his pride in the position and the culture which he has
attained—his _vanité de parvenu_, as M. Croiset styles it. He is proud
of his education, and boasts of it to excess, not realizing that he thus
lays himself open to the charge of having missed the best that education
can give. Demosthenes is just, though on the side of severity:
‘What right have you,’ he asks, ‘to speak of education? No
man who really had received a liberal education would ever
talk about himself in such a tone as you do; he would have the
modesty to blush if any one else said such things about him;
but people who have missed a proper education, as you have, and
are stupid enough to pretend that they possess it, only succeed
in offending their hearers when they talk about it, and fail
completely to produce the desired impression.’[246]
Aeschines considered ἀπαιδευσία, want of education, almost as a cardinal
sin, and could never conceive that he himself was guilty of it.[247]
He displays his learning by quotations from the poets, which are
sometimes, it must be admitted, very appropriate to his argument, and
by references to mythology and legend, which are sometimes frigid. His
use of history betrays a rather superficial knowledge of the subject; it
is hardly probable that he had studied Thucydides, for instance. Still,
he possessed a fair portion of learning; what leads him astray is really
his lack of taste. He is at his best in the use of quotation when he
adduces the lines of Hesiod on the man whose guilt involves a whole city
in his own ruin—the passage will be quoted later.[248] The verses give
a real sting to his denunciations, and the opinion which he expresses
on the educational influence of poetry is both solemn and sincere.
But he cannot keep to this level. His much boasted education! results
generally in an affectation of a sort of artificial propriety in action
and language, and a profession of prudery which is really foreign to
his nature. He professes an admiration for the self-restraint of public
speakers in Solon’s time, and during the greatness of the republic, and
speaks with disgust of Timarchus, who ‘threw off his cloak and performed
a _pancration_ naked in the assembly.’[249] In the opening of the same
speech he makes a strong claim to the merit of ‘moderation’; in the
prosecution of Timarchus his moderation consists in hinting at certain
abominable practices, which he does not describe by name.
‘I pray you, Gentlemen, to forgive me if, when forced to speak
of certain practices which are not honourable by nature,
but are the established habits of the defendant, I am led
away into using any expression which resembles the actions of
Timarchus.... The blame should rest on him rather than on me.
It will be impossible to avoid all use of such expressions, ...
but I shall try to avoid it as far as possible.’[250]
Notice again the hypocritical reticence or ‘omission’ (_paraleipsis_)—a
rhetorical device familiar to readers of Cicero—which insinuates what it
cannot prove:
‘Mark, men of Athens, how moderate I intend to be in my attack
on Timarchus. I omit all the abuses of which he was guilty
as a boy. So far as I am concerned they may be no more valid
than, say, the actions of the Thirty, the events before the
archonship of Euclides, or any other limitation which may ever
have been established.’[251]
‘I hear that this creature’ (an associate of Timarchus) ‘has
committed certain abominable offences, which, I swear by Zeus
of Olympus, I should never dare to mention in your presence; he
was not ashamed of doing these things, but I could not bear to
live if I had even named them to you explicitly.’[252]
In spite of the prosecutor’s modesty, particular references to the
offences of Timarchus are frequent enough throughout the speech; the
reticence is assumed for the purpose of insinuating that only a tithe of
the offences are really named. The whole tone of the speech, therefore,
is disingenuous and dishonest.
On the other hand, the orator’s tribute to the judges’ respectability is
at times overdrawn. They are informed that ‘Timarchus used to spend his
days in a gambling-house, where there is a pit in which cock-fights are
held, and games of chance are played—I imagine there are some of you who
have seen the things I refer to, or if not, have heard of them.’[253] No
large assembly could ever take quite seriously such a compliment to its
innocence, and it must have been meant as a lighter touch to relieve the
dark hues around it. Such playful sallies are not infrequent, and, like
this one, are often quite inoffensive.[254]
A far more serious arraignment of the character of Aeschines is brought
by Blass, who, having made a very careful study of the speech against
Timarchus, finds a strong presumption, on chronological grounds, that
the majority of the charges are false. It is certainly remarkable that
the charges of immorality rest almost entirely on the statements of the
prosecutor. He expresses an apprehension that Misgolas, a most important
witness, will either refuse to give evidence altogether, or will not
tell the truth. To meet trouble half-way like this is a very serious
confession of weakness, which is confirmed by the orator’s further
comment on the state of the case. He has, he says, other witnesses,
but ‘if the defendant and his supporters persuade them also to refuse
to give evidence—I think they will not persuade them; at any rate not
all of them—there is one thing which they never can do, and that is to
abolish the truth and the reputation which Timarchus bears in the city,
a reputation which I have not secured for him; he has earned it for
himself. For the life of a respectable man should be so spotless as not
to admit even the suspicion of offence.’[255]
Blass considers that the minor charges, directed against the reckless
extravagance with which Timarchus had dissipated his inherited property,
are better substantiated; but these alone would have been hardly enough
to secure his condemnation.
Against Blass’ theories we must set the little that we know about the
facts. Timarchus was certainly condemned and disfranchised.[256] Now
an Athenian jury was not infallible, and whether in an ordinary court
of justice or, as for this case, in the high court of the ecclesia,
political convictions might triumph over partiality; nevertheless, a
man who was innocent of the charge specifically brought against him,
especially if he had not only committed no real political offence, but
had played no part in political affairs—a man, moreover, who had the
powerful influence of Demosthenes behind him—might reasonably expect to
have a fair chance of being acquitted. Aeschines himself was acquitted
a few years later on a political charge, though his political conduct
required a good deal of explanation, and he had all the weight of
Demosthenes not for him, but against him.
Aeschines might well feel a legitimate pride at the high position to
which he had climbed from a comparatively humble starting-point; but to
reiterate the reasons for this pride is a display of vanity. He likes to
talk of himself as ‘the counsellor of this the greatest of cities,’ as
the friend of Alexander and Philip. ‘Demosthenes,’ he says, ‘brings up
against me the fact of my friendship with Alexander.’[257] Demosthenes
retorts that he has done nothing of the sort. ‘I reproach you, you say,
with Alexander’s friendship? How in the world could you have gained it
or deserved it? I should never be so mad as to call you the friend of
either Philip or Alexander, unless we are to say that our harvesters and
hirelings of other sorts are “friends” and “guests” of those who have
hired their services.’[258]
And again—‘On what just or reasonable grounds could Aeschines, the son of
Glaucothea, the tambourine-player, have as his host, or his friend, or
his acquaintance, Philip?’[259] Demosthenes’ estimate of the position is
probably the truer one; Aeschines, with all his cleverness, was not the
man, as Isocrates was, to meet princes on terms of equality.
His vanity about his speeches and the effect which they produced is
attested by the various occasions on which he quotes them, or refers
to them. He gives a summary of a speech which he made as an envoy to
Philip;[260] a speech delivered before the ecclesia is epitomized;[261]
a speech made before ‘thousands and thousands of Arcadians’ is
mentioned.[262] The notorious speech delivered to the Amphictyons is
quoted at some length,[263] and its disastrous effect described, the
speaker’s delight in his own powers blinding him completely to the
serious and far-reaching consequences of his criminal indiscretion.
His private life, in spite of some damaging admissions in the
_Timarchus_, seems to have been satisfactory according to Athenian
standards. Demosthenes accused him of offering a gross insult to an
Olynthian lady. Whether or not the statement was an entire fiction, we
are not in a position to judge. Aeschines indignantly denies the charge,
and asserts that the Athenian people, when it was made, refused to listen
to it, in view of their confirmed respect for his own character:
‘Only consider the folly, the vulgarity of the man, who has
invented so monstrous a lie against me as the one about the
Olynthian woman. You hissed him down in the middle of the
story, for the slander was quite out of keeping with my
character, and you knew me well.’[264]
Whatever his origin may have been, he was not ashamed of it. He more than
once refers with affectionate respect to his father.[265] His love for
his wife and children is on one occasion ingeniously introduced in an
eloquent passage to influence the feelings of his hearers. This use of
‘pathos’ was familiar enough to Greek audiences, but Aeschines shows his
originality by the form in which he puts the appeal—aiming directly at
the feelings of individual hearers for their own families, rather than
asking the assembly collectively to pity the victims of misfortune:
‘I have by my wife, the daughter of Philodemus and sister of
Philon and Echecrates, three children, a daughter and two sons.
I have brought them here with the rest of my family in order
that I may put one question and prove one point to my judges;
and this I shall now proceed to do. I ask you, men of Athens,
whether you think it likely that, in addition to sacrificing
my country and the companionship of my friends and my right to
a share in the worship and the burial-place of my fathers, I
could betray to Philip these whom I love more than anything in
the world, and value his friendship higher than their safety?
Have I ever become so far the slave of base pleasures? Have I
ever yet done anything so base for the sake of money? No; it is
not Macedon that makes a man good or bad, but nature; and when
we return from an embassy we are the same men that we were when
you sent us out.’[266]
Lastly, he could speak of himself with dignity, as in the passage, quoted
above,[267] where he rebuts a charge against his private character, and
in the following:
‘My silence, Demosthenes, is due to the moderation of my
life; I am content with a little; I have no base desire
for greatness; and so my silence or my speech is due to
careful deliberation, not to necessity imposed by habits of
extravagance. You, I imagine, are habitually silent when you
have got what you want; when you have spent it, you raise your
voice.’[268]
§ 4. _Style_
The vocabulary of Aeschines consists mostly of words in ordinary use
which require no comment. Though he was a great admirer of poetry, his
ordinary writing does not display more poetical or unusual words than
that of any other orator.
The difference between his style and that of a writer such as Lysias
is, essentially, a difference not of vocabulary but of tone; the tones
of Aeschines are raised. He tends to use words which are stronger
than they need be, to be ‘angry’ when only surprise is called for;
to be ‘excessively indignant’ when a moderate resentment would meet
the case, to ‘detest’ when to dislike would be enough.[269] He makes
unnecessary appeals to the gods more frequently than any other orator
except Demosthenes. Exaggeration is part of the secret of his _splendor
verborum_, as the Roman critic described it; but by far the greatest part
is his instinct for using quite ordinary words in the most effective
combinations. His best passages, if analysed, contain hardly any words
which are at all out of the common, and yet their vigour and dignity are
unquestionable.[270] The ancients, however, denied purity of diction to
Aeschines, perhaps on account of the characteristics just described.
He is, as Blass observes, occasionally obscure; that is, it is possible
to find sentences which are not quite easy to understand; but on the
whole these are very rare. No writer, even a Lysias, can be at all
times perfectly lucid.[271] As a rule Aeschines is as simple in the
construction of his sentences as he is in the arrangement of his
speeches, and he is much easier to understand than, for instance,
Demosthenes.
He has not the consummate grace and terseness which critics admire as
the chief beauties of Lysias; sometimes unnecessary repetitions of a
word are to be found, sometimes two synonyms are used where one word
would suffice; but such repetitions often give us lucidity, though at the
expense of strict form, and the accumulation of synonyms increases the
emphasis.[272] Only the great artist, who is perfectly confident that
he has found the right word to express adequately his whole meaning in
exactly the right way, can afford to do without all superfluous strokes.
Aeschines is not a perfect artist in language; he aims not at artistic
beauty but effect, to which style is nothing but a subordinate aid. The
composition of artistic prose is, for him, far from being an end in
itself.
His speeches were designed not to be read by literary experts, but
to be delivered from the platform, and he aimed, not at pleasing the
critics’ taste but at working on the passions of the ordinary citizen.
Some of his most important orations were not written at all, though he
probably preserved notes of them,[273] and the three which he did write
out in full were preserved not for their literary beauty but for their
subject-matter. The time for the rhetoric of culture was past; the course
of events required the kind of oratory that would stir men to action. As
to the effectiveness of his speeches, there can be no doubt. We know—on
his own authority, certainly; but it has never been disputed—how his
harangue moved the Amphictyons; and we know that, without any conspicuous
moral qualities, with no advantages from family influence and no definite
political principles, he became a power in Athens solely by virtue of his
eloquence.
Aeschines varies the length of his sentences very considerably; some
of them are long, and consist of strings of participial and relative
clauses. These, however, occur mostly in narrative passages, where
such discursive style is excusable: for instance, the long sentences
in the _de Legatione_, §§ 26-27, §§ 75-77, and § 115, contain reports
of Aeschines’ own earlier speeches. The first of these (§§ 26-27) is
monotonous owing to the series of genitives absolute which compose an
inordinately long protasis, the main verb not occurring till near the end
of the sentence, and then being followed by another genitive clause.
A long sentence early in the _Ctesiphon_ gives a _résumé_ of the
circumstances by which the orator is impelled to speak; the clauses
are mostly connected by καί, though all depend on a relative at the
beginning. No skill is displayed in the structure of such sentences,
and their possible length is limited only by the amount of water in the
_clepsydra_. Up to a certain length, they are forcible, but if the limit
is exceeded, the effect is lost, for the point which the orator wishes
to make is too long deferred, since the main clause, containing the
statement which the preceding relative clauses illustrate or explain, is
not reached until the heavy accumulation of relative clauses has wearied
the perception.
In general, however, Aeschines is moderate in length; his sentences, on
the average, are shorter than those of Isocrates, and he tacitly adheres
to the rule that a period should not be so long that it cannot be uttered
in one breath.
Though not pedantic, he was far from being without a taste for
composition. In all the speeches we find examples of the deliberate
avoidance of hiatus, and in the _de Legatione_ he bestowed some care on
the matter.
The avoidance may generally, though not always, be traced in an unusual
order of words.[274] Examples of harsh hiatus are rare, though there
are many unimportant instances. Quite apart from theoretical rules, a
good orator will instinctively avoid awkward combinations of letters,
for euphony is necessary for fluent speaking. Aeschines, secure in the
possession of a perfect delivery, might admit sounds which Isocrates and
other theorists considered harsh; it was with practical declamation that
he was concerned.
The use of the rhetorical ‘figures’ is a prominent characteristic of
Aeschines. The verbal contrasts which Gorgias and the Sophists affected,
many of which seem to us so frigid and tedious, have too much honour from
Aeschines; for instance, the purely formal antithesis—‘He mentions the
names of those whose bodies he has never seen.’[275] where the sound of
the jingle—ὀνόματα, σώματα—is more important than the sense. The effect
of such ‘like endings’ (_homoeoteleute_) cannot as a rule be reproduced,
though sometimes a play upon words will indicate it: _e.g._ οὐ τὸν
τρόπον ἀλλὰ τὸν τόπον μόνον μετήλλαξεν—‘he has changed, not his habits,
but only his habitation.’[276] In such assonance there is an undoubted
aiming at comic effect. A forcible repetition of words is found in such
sentences as the following: ‘What I saw, I reported to you as I saw
it; what I heard, as I heard it; now what was it that I saw and heard
about Cersobleptes? I saw ...’ etc.[277] Repetitions of this and similar
kinds seem to break at times from the speaker’s control, and pass all
measure.[278]
Aeschines does not seem to have paid any attention to rhythmical writing;
his style is too free to be bound by unnecessary restrictions; verses
and metrical passages occur sporadically, but they are rare. He seems to
have fallen into them by accident, since they occur in positions where no
special point is marked by an unusual rhythm.[279]
Direct quotations of poetry, for which he had a great liking, are,
on the other hand, very frequent. No other orator, except Lycurgus,
is comparable to him in this respect, and Lycurgus uses his power of
quotation with much less force than Aeschines, who often employs it
aptly. He gives us the impression that serious religious conviction is at
the back of his quotation from Hesiod:
‘Often the whole of a city must suffer for one man’s sin.’[280]
In other cases the quotations are excessively long and, like those of
Lycurgus, have hardly any bearing on the point.
His metaphors are sometimes vivid and well chosen—ἀμπελουργεῖν τὴν
πόλιν—‘to strip the city like a vineyard’; ἔναυλον ἦν πᾶσιν—‘it was
dinned into everybody’s ears.’ Some of the most forcible occur in
passages which purport to be quotations or paraphrases of Demosthenes:
_e.g._ ἐπιστομίσαι, ‘to bridle’ the war-party; ἀπορράψειν τὸ Φιλίππου
στόμα, ‘to sew up Philip’s mouth.’[281] These are probably caricatures
of Demosthenes’ daring phrases.
Turning now from the consideration of the materials to the finished
product, we find that Aeschines can attain a high level of style. His
denunciation of the sharp practices prevailing in the course of his day
is impressive; we know that he is speaking the truth, and he does not
make the mistake of exaggerating. The seriousness is relieved, but not
impaired, by the light thread of sarcasm which runs through the whole
fabric:
‘The hearing of such cases, as my father used to tell me, was
conducted in a way very different from ours. The judges were
much more severe with those who proposed illegal measures than
the prosecutor was, and they would often interrupt the clerk
and ask him to read over again the laws and the decree; and
the proposers of illegal measures were found guilty not if
they had ridden over all the laws, but if they had subverted
one single clause. The present procedure is ridiculous beyond
words; the clerk reads the illegal decree, and the judges, as
if they were listening to an incantation or something that did
not concern them, keep their minds fixed on something else. And
already, through the devices of Demosthenes, you are admitting
a disgraceful practice; you have allowed the course of justice
to be changed, for the prosecutor is on his defence, and the
defendant conducts his prosecution; and the judges sometimes
forget the matter of which they are called on to be arbiters,
and are compelled to vote on questions which they ought not
to be judging. The defendant, if he ever refers to the facts
at all, tells you, not that his proposal was legal, but that
somebody else has proposed similar measures before his time,
and has been acquitted.’[282]
The following passage has been many times pointed out, and justly,
as a fine example of the higher style of Aeschines’ rhetoric. Taken
apart from its context, and without any consideration of the truth of
the insinuations which it makes, it is a notable piece of ‘pathetic’
pleading. The Romans, with a fondness for epigrammatic contrast,
attributed to Aeschines more of sound and less of strength than to
Demosthenes. This is true if we regard their works as a whole; but in
isolated passages like this, Aeschines finds his level with the best of
Attic orators:
‘Thebes, our neighbour Thebes, in the course of a single day
has been torn from the midst of Greece; justly, perhaps, for in
general she followed a mistaken policy; yet it was not human
judgment but divine ordinance that led her into error. And
the poor Lacedaemonians, who only interfered in this matter
originally in connection with the seizure of the sanctuary,
they who once could claim to be the leaders of the Greeks, must
now be sent up to Alexander to offer themselves as hostages
and advertise their disaster; they and their country must
submit to any treatment on which he decides, and be judged by
the clemency of the conqueror who was the injured party. And
our city, the common asylum of all Greeks, to whom formerly
embassies used to come from Greece to obtain their safety from
us, city by city, is struggling now not for the leadership
of the Greeks but for the very soil of her fatherland. And
this has befallen us since Demosthenes took the direction of
our policy. A passage in Hesiod contains a solemn warning
appropriate to such a case. He speaks, I believe, with the
intention of educating the people, and advising the cities not
to take to themselves evil leaders.
‘I shall quote the lines, for I conceive that we learn by heart
the maxims of the poets in childhood, so that in manhood we may
apply them:—
‘“Often the whole of a city must suffer for one man’s sin,
Who plotteth infatuate counsel, and walketh in evil ways,
On such God sendeth destruction, by famine and wasting plague,
And razeth their walls and armies, and shatters their ships at
sea.”’[283]
We know that Aeschines took education very seriously—more seriously,
in fact, than anything else—and his reference here to the educative
influence of the poets gives proof of his earnestness, which may have
been a transient emotion, but was, for the moment, a strong one.
Setting apart a few such serious passages, Aeschines is at his best
when he is directly accusing Demosthenes. His attacks are nearly always
characterized by a humorous manner which does not make them any the less
forcible, and they generally contain just enough truth to make their
malice effective. The fact that Aeschines himself had too deep a respect
for the truth to be prodigal in the use of it does not diminish the
virulence of his attack on his rival’s veracity, while any question as
to the exactitude of his statements would be drowned in the laugh that
followed the concluding paragraph:
‘The fellow has one characteristic peculiarly his own when
other impostors tell a lie, they try to speak vaguely and
indefinitely, for fear of being convicted of falsehood; but
when Demosthenes seeks to impose upon you, he first of all
enforces his lie with an oath, invoking eternal ruin on
himself; secondly, though he knows that a thing never can
happen at all, he dares to speak with a nice calculation of the
day when it is going to happen; he utters the names of people
whose faces he has never seen, thus cheating you into hearing
him, and assuming an air of truthfulness; and so he thoroughly
merits your detestation, since, being such a scoundrel as he
is, he discredits the usual proofs of honesty.
‘After talking in this way he gives the clerk a decree to
read—something longer than the _Iliad_, and more empty than
the speeches he makes or the life he has led; full of hopes
that can never be realized, and armies that will never be
mustered.’[284]
The pleasing custom followed by the orators of antiquity, whether Greek
or Roman, of defiling the graves of the ancestors of their political
opponents, and defaming their private lives, can be as well exemplified
from Aeschines as from his rival. Aeschines shows no great originality in
particular terms of abuse—Dinarchus has a greater variety of offensive
words—but the following extract from his circumstantial fictions about
Demosthenes is more effective, because more moderate in tone, than
the incredible insults with which the latter described the family
circumstances and the career of Aeschines:[285]
‘So, on his grandfather’s account, he must be an enemy of the
people, for you condemned his ancestors to death; but through
his mother’s family he is a Scythian, a barbarian, though he
speaks Greek; so that even his wickedness is not of native
growth. And what of his daily life? Once a trierarch, he
appeared again as a speech-writer, having in some ridiculous
fashion thrown away his patrimony; but as in this profession he
came under suspicion of disclosing the speeches to the other
side, he bounded up on to the tribunal; and though he took
great sums of money from his administration, he saved very
little for himself. Now, however, the king’s treasure has
drowned his extravagance—but even that will not be enough; for
no conceivable wealth can survive evil habits.
‘Worst of all, he makes a living not out of his private sources
of income, but out of your danger.’[286]
But he is really at his best where some slight slip on the part of his
opponent gives him the opportunity of magnifying a trivial incident into
importance. In the following caricature the indecision of Demosthenes is
better expressed by the vacillating language thrust into his mouth than
it could have been by the most eloquent description in the third person:
‘While I was in the middle of this speech, Demosthenes
shouted out at the top of his voice—all our fellow-envoys can
support my statement—for in addition to his other vices he
is a partisan of Boeotia. What he said was something to this
purpose:—“This fellow is full of a spirit of turbulence and
recklessness; I admit that I am made of softer stuff, and
fear dangers afar off. However, I would forbid him to raise
disturbances between the States, for I think that the right
course is for us ambassadors not to meddle with anything.
Philip is marching to Thermopylae; I cover my face. No man will
judge me because Philip takes up arms; I shall be judged for
any unnecessary word that I utter, or for any action in which I
exceed my instructions.”’[287]
The failure of Demosthenes to rise to the occasion when he had the
opportunity of delivering an impressive speech before Philip, during
the first embassy, forms the groundwork for excellent comedy on the
part of Aeschines. Demosthenes, by his rival’s account, was usually so
intolerable as a companion that his colleagues refused to stay in the
same lodging with him whenever another was obtainable; but he had found
opportunity to impress them with his own sense of his importance as an
orator. These professions are well indicated in a few words. The account
of his failure, of Philip’s patronizing encouragement, of the fiasco in
which the whole proceedings terminated, are sketched with a delicate
malice that must have made any defence or explanation impossible; indeed
Demosthenes seems to have attempted no reply:
‘When these and other speeches had been made, it was
Demosthenes’ turn to play his part in the embassy, and
everybody was most attentive, expecting to hear a speech of
exceptional power; for, as we gathered later, even Philip and
his companions had heard the report of his ambitious promises.
When everybody was thus prepared to listen to him, the brute
gave utterance to some sort of obscure exordium, half-dead
with nervousness, and having made a little progress over the
surface of the subject he suddenly halted and hesitated, and at
last completely lost his way. Philip, seeing the state he was
in, urged him to take courage, and not to think he had failed
because, like an actor, he had forgotten his part; but to try
quietly and little by little to recollect himself and make the
speech as he intended it. But he, having once been flurried,
and lost the thread of his written speech, could not recover
himself again; he tried once more, and failed in the same
way. A silence followed, after which the herald dismissed the
embassy.’[288]
Aeschines not only excelled in this class of circumstantial caricature,
but he could win a laugh by a single phrase. It is well known that
Midias, after various discreditable quarrels, put the final touch to his
insolence by a public assault on Demosthenes, whose face he slapped
in the theatre. Demosthenes on many occasions made capital out of this
assault; which fact inspires the remark of Aeschines, ‘His face is his
fortune.’[289] Of his dexterity in repartee a single instance may be
quoted: Demosthenes, in an outburst of indignation, had suggested that
the court should refuse to be impressed by the oratory of a man who
was notoriously corrupt, but should rather be prejudiced by it against
him.[290] Aeschines, catching at the words, rather than the spirit,
retorted, ‘Though you, gentlemen, have taken a solemn oath to give an
impartial hearing to both parties, he has dared to urge you not to listen
to the voice of the defendant.’[291]
§ 5. _Treatment of subjects: general estimate_
During his tenure of the office of γραμματεύς—clerk to the
ecclesia—Aeschines must have gained a thorough knowledge of the procedure
of that assembly, and of law. This comes out in his general treatment of
his subjects, and particularly in his legal arguments, which are clear
and convincing. In the speech against Ctesiphon, where the irregularities
of the proceedings about Demosthenes’ crown gave him a good subject for
argument, he makes out a very strong case.
In the structure of his speeches he follows a chronological order. He
realized well that the style of his eloquence lent itself naturally
to bright and attractive narrative. His versatility saves him from
becoming tedious; at one time he can speak with a noble solemnity which
reminds M. Croiset of the eloquence of the pulpit,[292] at another, the
lightness of his touch almost conceals the bitterness of his sentiments
and the seriousness of his purpose.[293] He can speak of himself with
dignity, of his family with true feeling; careful argument succeeds to
lucid narrative; crisp interrogation, reinforced by powerful sarcasm, to
masterly exposition. He can awaken his hearers’ interest by an indication
of the course which he intends to follow, and this interest is sustained
by all the resources of an eloquence which, though at times sophistical,
and though disfigured by occasional blemishes, has more of naturalness
and shows less traces of scholastic elaboration, than that of any other
great orator. He is abler than Andocides, more varied than Lysias, more
alive than Isaeus.
His natural gifts place him above Lycurgus, though our insight into the
latter’s high character gives him a powerful claim to our consideration.
Blass ranks him below Hyperides, but a study of the lighter passages
in Aeschines leads us to believe that, had he turned his attention to
private cases, he might have equalled or surpassed that polished orator
on his own chosen ground. The unanimous judgment of ancient and modern
times places him far below Demosthenes, who stands apart without a rival;
but in one quality, at least, he surpasses the paragon. Demosthenes,
according to the opinion of Longinus, is apt to make his hearers
laugh not with him but at him;[294] Aeschines never turns the laugh
against himself. Aeschines is perhaps less read than he deserves; he
has suffered from historical bias, and the prevalent contempt for his
qualities as a statesman has led to an undue disregard of his virtues as
an orator. There is nothing unfamiliar in this judgment; other orators
have suffered in the same way at the hands of prejudiced historians.[295]
It is interesting to read the account of Aeschines in Blass’ _Attische
Beredsamkeit_; the gifted scholar apparently starts with a strong
prejudice against his author, and is almost too ready to insist on his
faults; but time after time he is obliged to admit the existence of
positive merits, and in the end he seems, almost against his will, to
have been forced to modify his judgment; while the care and impartiality
with which he has detailed all points, good and bad alike, provides
material for a more favourable estimate such as that of Croiset.
§ 6. _Contents of Speeches_
A short account of the subject-matter of the three speeches may conclude
this chapter.
1. _Against Timarchus._
The speech begins (§§ 1-2) with a statement of the prosecutor’s motives;
§ 3 states the position which he intends to assume—that Timarchus, by
breaking the laws, has made the bringing of this action inevitable. Laws
relating to the matter are read and fully discussed (§§ 4-36).
This preliminary legal statement, apart from the particular case, puts
the prosecution on a sounder footing than if the speech had begun at once
with the narrative.
§§ 37-76. _The first charge_ (immorality). Narrative of the private life
of Timarchus, interspersed with evidence and argument as to his political
disabilities.
§§ 77-93. Examples of disability imposed on other grounds. Precedents for
a verdict in accordance with general knowledge even when the evidence is
defective.
§§ 94-105. _The second charge._ Timarchus is a spendthrift. Narrative and
evidence about his prodigality.
§§ 106-115. _The third charge._ His corruptness in public life.
§ 116, recapitulation. §§ 117-176, anticipation of the defence.
§§ 177-195. Epilogue, announced beforehand (§ 117) as an ‘exhortation to
a virtuous life.’ § 196, a short conclusion—‘I have instructed you in the
laws, I have examined the life of the defendant; I now retire, leaving
the matter in your hands.’
2. _On the Embassy._
Demosthenes had accused Aeschines of treason; his speech, it is to be
noted, dealt really with the second embassy only, and the events in
Athens subsequent to it, though he makes some reference to the third
embassy, and implies that Aeschines was corrupt even before the second.
He follows no chronological order, so that his story is hard to follow.
Aeschines, on the other hand, has a great appearance of lucidity,
treating all events in chronological order; but this is misleading, for,
in order to divert attention from the period in which his conduct was
questionable, he spends a disproportionate time in describing the first
embassy, in connection with which no accusation is made by Demosthenes.
The exordium (§§ 1-11) contains a strong appeal for an impartial hearing.
The events of the first embassy to Philip are the subject of an amusing
narrative at the expense of Demosthenes (§§ 12-39); the return of the
envoys and their reports, etc., occupy §§ 40-55. The same clearness does
not appear in the rest of the speech. Aeschines has to make a defence
on various charges brought against himself, so a plain narrative is not
enough. The chief charges were that Aeschines was in the pay of Philip,
and that he deceived the people as to Philip’s intentions, thus leading
them into actions which proved disastrous. The former charge could not
be proved by Demosthenes, however strong his suspicions were; the facts
relating to the peace of Philocrates and the delay in the ratification of
the agreement with Philip were matters of common knowledge; it was only
a question of intention. The defence of Aeschines is that he deceived
the people because he was himself deceived—a confession of credulity and
incompetence. The narrative is not continuous; details about the embassy
to Philip, the embassy to the Arcadians, and the fate of Cersobleptes,
are to some extent mixed together. Reference is also made to some
specific charges, _e.g._ the case of the Olynthian woman, the speech
before the Amphictyons, the singing of the paean, etc. In the two latter
cases there is no defence, but an attempt at justification (§§ 55-170).
The epilogue begins with an historical survey of Athenian affairs, which
is stolen either from Andocides or from some popular commonplace book,
and contains the usual appeal to the judges to save the speaker from his
adversaries’ malice.
He ends by calling on Eubulus and Phocion to speak for him. (§§ 171-178.)
Stress has been laid in these pages on the somewhat disjointed character
of the sections dealing with the principal charges, and it cannot be
denied that the defence is sometimes vague; that Aeschines seems to aim
not at refuting but eluding the accusations. These imperfections come out
on an analysis; but the speech taken as a whole is a very fine piece of
advocacy, and makes the acquittal of the speaker quite intelligible.
3. _Against Ctesiphon._
The speech opens with an elaboration of a trite commonplace, modelled on
the style of Andocides, about the vicious cleverness of the speaker’s
opponents and his own simple trust in the laws. Aeschines proposes to
prove that the procedure of Ctesiphon was illegal, his statements false,
and his action harmful. (§§ 1-8.)
_First charge_—‘The proposal to grant a crown to Demosthenes was illegal,
because Demosthenes was at the time liable to εὔθυνα (§§ 9-12). All
statements to the contrary notwithstanding, a consideration of the laws
proves conclusively that Demosthenes was so liable.’ (§§ 13-31.)
_Second charge_—‘It was illegal for the proclamation of the crown to be
made in the theatre.’ (§§ 32-48.)
_Third charge_—‘The statements on which the proposal was made, viz. that
the public counsel and public actions of Demosthenes are for the best
interests of the people, are false.’ (§ 49.)
The first two charges are dealt with by means of legal argument, in which
Aeschines, as usual, displays considerable ability. The third and longest
section of the speech (§§ 49-176) is less satisfactory. The orator
proposes to set aside the private life of his enemy, though he hints
that many incidents might be adduced to prove its general worthlessness
(§§ 51-53), and to deal only with his public policy. This he does, in
chronological order and at great length. Numerous occasions are described
on which the policy of Demosthenes was detrimental to Athens. The
arguments with which the narrative is interspersed are often of a trivial
nature, consisting sometimes of appeals to superstition, as when he tells
us that troops were sent to Chaeronea, although the proper sacrifices
had not been performed; and attempts to show that Demosthenes is an
ἀλιτήριος, for whose sin the whole city must suffer. Taken in detail,
some of these passages are impressive; but the weakness of the whole is
that Aeschines himself does not declare any serious or systematic policy.
This section contains incidentally digressions, in the taste of the day,
about the family and character of Demosthenes.[296]
§§ 177-190 contain some references to heroes of antiquity, by way of
invidious comparison; §§ 191-202, the deterioration of procedure in the
courts.[297]
§§ 203-205, recapitulation; §§ 206-212, further incrimination of
Demosthenes, and §§ 213-214, of Ctesiphon. §§ 215-229, chiefly
refutation of charges against Aeschines. §§ 230-259, further general
discussion of the illegality of the measure and the unworthiness
of Demosthenes. The final appeal to the past—‘Think you not that
Themistocles and the heroes who fell at Marathon and Plataea, and the
very graves of our ancestors, will groan aloud if a crown is to be
granted to one who concerts with the barbarians for the ruin of Greece?’
ends abruptly and grotesquely with an invocation to ‘Earth and Sun and
Virtue and Intelligence and Education, through which we distinguish
between the noble and the base.’
It reminds us strangely of the invocations put into the mouth of
Euripides by Aristophanes.[298]