of Philocrates, by the side of my own; for the comparison will bring
out their character more vividly. Well, they first pronounced the
exclusion from the Peace of the Phocians and the people of Halus, and
of Cersobleptes, contrary to your decree and to the statements made to
you. Then they attempted to tamper with and alter the decree, which we
had come there as ambassadors to execute. Then they entered the
Cardians as allies of Philip and voted against sending the dispatch
which I had written to you, sending in its stead an utterly unsound
dispatch of their own composition. {175} And then the gallant gentleman
asserted that I had promised Philip that I would overthrow your
constitution, because I censured these proceedings, not only from a
sense of their disgracefulness, but also from fear lest through the
fault of these men I might have to share their ruin: while all the time
he was himself having incessant private interviews with Philip. And, to
pass over all besides, Dercylus (not I) watched him through the night
at Pherae, along with my slave who is here present; and as the slave
came out of Philip's tent he took him and bade him report what he had
seen, and remember it himself; and finally, this disgusting and
shameless fellow was left behind with Philip for a night and a day,
when we went away. {176} And to prove that I am speaking the truth, I
will myself give evidence which I have committed to writing,[n] so as
to put myself in the position of a responsible witness; and after that
I call upon each of the other ambassadors, and I will compel them to
choose their alternative--either to give evidence, or to swear that
they have no knowledge of the matter. If they take the latter course, I
shall convict them of perjury beyond doubt.
[_Evidence is read._]
{177} You have seen now by what mischief and trouble I was hampered,
throughout our absence from home. For what must you imagine their
conduct to have been there, with their paymaster close at hand, when
they act as they do before your very eyes, though you have power either
to confer honour or, on the other hand, to inflict punishment upon them?
I wish now to reckon up from the beginning the charges which I have
made, in order to show you that I have done all that I undertook to do
at the beginning of my speech. {178} I have proved that there was no
truth in his report--that, on the contrary, he deceived you--by the
evidence not of words but of the actual course of events. I have proved
that he was the cause of your unwillingness to hear the truth from my
mouth, captivated as you were at the time by his promises and
undertakings; that he gave you advice which was the exact opposite of
that which he ought to have given, opposing the Peace which was
suggested by the allies, and advocating the Peace of Philocrates; that
he wasted time, in order that you might not be able to march to the aid
of the Phocians, even if you wished to do so; and that he has done many
atrocious deeds during his absence from home; for he has betrayed and
sold everything, he has taken bribes, and has left no form of rascality
untried. These are the points which I promised at the outset to prove,
and I have proved them. {179} Observe, then, what follows; for what I
have now to say to you has already become a simple matter. You have
sworn that you will vote according to the laws and the decrees of the
people and the Council of Five Hundred. The defendant is proved, in all
his conduct as ambassador, to have acted in contravention of the laws,
of the decrees, and of justice. He ought, therefore, to be convicted in
any court composed of rational men. Even if there were no other crimes
at his door, two of his actions are sufficient to slay him; for he
betrayed to Philip not only the Phocians but also Thrace. {180} Two
places in the whole world of greater value to Athens than Thermopylae
on land, and the Hellespont over sea, could not possibly be found; and
both these places these men have shamefully sold, and placed in
Philip's hands to be used against you. The enormity of this crime
alone--the sacrifice of Thrace and the Walls--apart from all the rest,
might be proved in countless ways,[n] and it is easy to point out how
many men have been executed or fined vast sums of money by you for such
offences--Ergophilus,[n] Cephisodotus,[n] Timomachus,[n] Ergocles[n]
long ago, Dionysius, and others; all of whom together, I may almost
say, have done the city less harm than the defendant. {181} But in
those days, men of Athens, you still guarded against danger by
calculation and forethought; whereas now you overlook any danger which
does not annoy you from day to day, or cause you pain by its immediate
presence, and then pass such resolutions here as 'that Philip shall
take the oath in favour of Cersobleptes also,' 'that we will not take
part in the proceedings of the Amphictyons,' 'that we must amend the
Peace.' But none of these resolutions would have been required, had
Aeschines then been ready to sail and to do what was required. As it
is, by urging us to go by land, he has lost all that we could have
saved by sailing; and by lying, all that could have been saved by
speaking the truth.
{182} He intends, I am told, to express immediately his indignation
that he alone of all the speakers in the Assembly should have to render
an account of his words. I will not urge that all speakers would
reasonably be called upon to render such an account, if any of their
words were spoken for money; I only say this. If Aeschines in his
private capacity has spoken wildly on some occasion or committed some
blunder, do not be over-strict with him, but let it pass and grant him
pardon: but if as your ambassador he has deliberately deceived you for
money, then do not let him go, or tolerate the plea that he ought not
to be called to account for what he _said_. {183} Why, for what, if not
for his words, is an ambassador to be brought to justice? Ambassadors
have no control over ships or places or soldiers or citadels--no one
puts such things in their hands--but over words and times. As regards
times, if he did not cause the times of the city's opportunities to be
lost, he is not guilty; but if he did so, he has committed crime. And
as to his words, if the words of his report were true or expedient, let
him escape; but if they were at once false, venal, and disastrous, let
him be convicted. {184} No greater wrong can a man do you, than is done
by lying speeches. For where government is based upon speeches, how can
it be carried on in security, if the speeches are not true? and if, in
particular, a speaker takes bribes and speaks to further the interests
of the enemy, how can you escape real danger? For to rob you of your
opportunities is not the same thing as to rob an oligarchy or a tyrant.
Far from it. {185} Under such governments, I imagine, everything is
done promptly at a word of command. But with you the Council must first
hear about everything, and pass its preliminary resolution--and even
that not at any time, but only when notice has been given of the
reception of heralds and embassies: then you must convoke an Assembly,
and that only when the time comes for one, as ordained by law: then
those who speak for your true good have to master and overcome those
who, through ignorance or wickedness, oppose them. {186} Besides all
this, even when a measure is resolved upon, and its advantages are
already plain, time must be granted to the impecuniosity of the
majority, in which they may procure whatever means they require in
order to be able to carry out what has been resolved. And so he who
causes times so critical to be lost, in a state constituted as ours is,
has not caused you to lose times, but has robbed you absolutely of the
realization of your aims.
{187} Now all those who are anxious to deceive you are very ready with
such expressions as 'disturbers of the city,' 'men who prevent Philip
from conferring benefits on the city.' In reply to these, I will use no
argument, but will read you Philip's letters, and will remind you of
the occasion on which each piece of deception took place, that you may
know that Philip has got beyond this exaggerated title of
'benefactor',[n] of which we are so sickened, in his attempts to take
you in by it.
[_Philip's letters are read._]
{188} Now although his work as ambassador has been so shameful, so
detrimental to you in many--nay, in all points, he goes about asking
people what they think of Demosthenes, who prosecutes his own
colleagues. I prosecute you indeed, whether I would or no, because
throughout our entire absence from home you plotted against me as I
have said, and because now I have the choice of only two alternatives:
either I must appear to share with you the responsibility for such work
as yours, or I must prosecute you. {189} Nay, I deny that I was ever
your colleague in the Embassy. I say that your work as ambassador was
an atrocious work, while my own was for the true good of those present
here. It is Philocrates that has been your colleague, as you have been
his, and Phrynon. For your policy was the same as theirs, and you all
approved of the same objects. But 'where are the salt, the table, the
libations that we shared?' So he asks everywhere in his theatrical
style--as though it were not the criminals, but the upright, that were
false to such pledges! {190} I am certain that though all the Prytanes
offer their common sacrifice on each occasion, and join one with
another in their meal and their libation, the good do not on this
account copy the bad; but if they detect one of their own number in
crime they report the fact to the Council and the people. In the very
same way the Council offers its inaugural sacrifice and feasts
together, and joins in libations and sacred rites. So do the generals,
and, one may practically say, every body of magistrates. Does that mean
that they grant an indemnity to any of their number who is guilty of
crime? Very far from it. {191} Leon accuses Timagoras,[n] after being
his fellow ambassador for four years: Eubulus accuses Tharrex and
Smicythus, after sharing the banquet with them: the great Conon, the
elder, prosecuted Adeimantus,[n] though they were generals together.
Which sinned against the salt and the libation, Aeschines--the traitors
and the faithless ambassadors and the hirelings, or their accusers?
Plainly those who violated, as you have done, the sanctity, not of
private libations, but of libations poured in the name of the whole
country.
{192} That you may realize that these men have been the most worthless
and wicked not only of all who have ever gone to Philip in a public
capacity, but even of those who have gone as private persons, and
indeed of all mankind, I ask you to listen to me while I describe
briefly an incident which falls outside the story of this Embassy. When
Philip took Olynthus he celebrated Olympian games, and gathered
together all the artists to the sacrifice and the festal gathering.
{193} And while he was entertaining them at a banquet, and crowning the
victors, he asked Satyrus, the well-known comic actor, why he alone
requested no favour of him. Did he see any meanness in him, or any
dislike towards himself? Satyrus answered (so the story goes) that he
happened to stand in no need of the things for which the rest were
asking, but that the boon which he would like to ask was a favour which
it would be very easy indeed for Philip to bestow; only he was afraid
that he might fail to obtain it. {194} Philip bade him name his
request, declaring with some spirit that there was nothing that he
would not do for him. Satyrus is then said to have stated that
Apollophanes of Pydna was formerly his friend and guest-friend,[n] and
that when he had perished by a treacherous assassination, his kinsman
had, in alarm, conveyed his daughters, then little children, to
Olynthus secretly. 'These girls,' said Satyrus, 'have been taken
prisoners at the capture of the city; they are with you, and they are
now of marriageable age. {195} It is these girls that I beg and entreat
you to give to me. But I should like you to hear and understand what
sort of present you will be giving me, if you really give it. I shall
gain nothing by receiving it: I shall give them in marriage, and a
dowry with them, and shall not allow them to suffer anything unworthy
of us or of their father.' When those who were present at the feast
heard this, there was such applause and cheering and approbation on all
hands, that Philip was moved and granted the request, although the
Apollophanes who was spoken of was one of the murderers of Alexander,
Philip's brother. {196} Now let us examine side by side with this
banquet of Satyrus, that in which these men took part in Macedonia.
Observe what likeness and resemblance there is between the two! For
these men were invited to the house of Xenophron, the son of Phaedimus,
who was one of the Thirty,[n] and went. I did not go. But when it came
to the time for wine, he brought in an Olynthian woman--good-looking,
but well-bred and modest, as the event proved. {197} At first, I
believe (according to the account which Iatrocles gave me the next
day), they only forced her to drink a little wine quietly and to eat
some dessert; but as the feast proceeded and they waxed warm, they bade
her recline and even sing a song. And when the poor creature, who was
in great distress, neither would nor could do as they bade her,
Aeschines and Phrynon declared that it was an insult and quite
intolerable, that a captive woman--one of those god-forsaken devils the
Olynthians--should give herself airs. 'Call a slave,' they cried, 'and
let some one bring a strap.' A servant came with a lash; they had been
drinking, I imagine, and were easily annoyed; and as soon as she said
something and burst into tears, the servant tore open her dress and
gave her a number of cuts across the back. {198} Beside herself with
the pain and the sense of her position, the woman leaped up and fell
before the knees of Iatrocles, overturning the table as she did so. And
had he not rescued her, she would have perished as the victim of a
drunken debauch; for the drunkenness of this abominable creature is
something horrible.[n] The case of this woman was also mentioned in
Arcadia before the Ten Thousand, and Diophantus reported to you what I
shall now force him to testify; for the matter was much talked of in
Thessaly and everywhere.
{199} Yet with all this on his conscience this unclean creature will
dare to look you in the face, and will very soon be speaking to you of
the life he has lived, in that magnificent voice of his. It chokes me
to hear him! Does not the jury know how at first you used to read over
the books to your mother at her initiations,[n] and wallow amid bands
of drunken men at their orgies, while still a boy? {200} and how you
were afterwards under-clerk to the magistrates, and played the rogue
for two or three drachmae?[n] and how at last, in recent days, you
thought yourself lucky to get a parasitic living in the training-rooms
of others, as a third-rate actor? What then is the life of which you
propose to speak? Where have you lived it? For the life which you have
really lived has been what I have described. And how much does he take
upon himself! He brought another man to trial here for unnatural
offences! But I leave this point for the moment. (_To the clerk._)
First, read me these depositions.
[_The depositions are read._]
{201} So many, then, and so gross, gentlemen of the jury, being the
crimes against you of which he stands convicted--and what wickedness do
they not include? he is corrupt, he is a minion, he is under the curse,
a liar, a betrayer of his own people; all the most heinous offences are
there--he will not defend himself against a single one of these
charges, and will have no defence to offer that is either just or
straightforward. But the statement which, I am told, he intends to
make, borders on madness; though perhaps a man who has no other plea to
offer must contrive anything that he can. {202} For I hear that he is
to say that I, forsooth, have been a partner in everything of which I
accuse him; that at first I used to approve of his policy and to act
with him; and that I have suddenly changed my mind and become his
accuser. As a defence of his conduct such assertions are, of course,
neither legitimate nor to the point, though they do imply some kind of
charge against myself; for, of course, if I have acted thus, I am a
worthless person. But the conduct itself is no better for that. Far
from it! {203} At the same time, I think it is proper for me to prove
to you both the points in question--first, that if he makes such an
assertion he will be lying; and secondly, what is the just line of
defence. Now a just and straightforward defence must show either that
the acts charged against him were not committed, or that having been
committed, they are to the advantage of the city. {204} But Aeschines
cannot do either of these things. For I presume that it is not possible
for him to say that it is to the advantage of the city that the
Phocians have been ruined, that Thermopylae is in Philip's hands, that
Thebes is powerful, that there are soldiers in Euboea and plotting
against Megara, and that the Peace should not have been sworn to,[n]
when on the former occasion he announced the very contrary of all these
things to you in the guise of advantages, and advantages about to be
realized? Nor will he be able to persuade you that these things have
not been done, when you yourselves have seen them and know the facts
well. {205} It remains for me, therefore, to show you that I have had
no share in any of their proceedings. Shall I then dismiss everything
else from consideration--all that I have said against them in your
presence, all my collisions with them during our absence, all my
antagonism to them from first to last--and produce my opponents
themselves as witnesses to the fact that my conduct and theirs have
been absolutely contrary the one to the other--that they have taken
money to your detriment, and that I refused to receive it? Then mark
what I say.
{206} Who, would you say, was of all men in Athens the most offensive,
most overflowing with effrontery and contemptuousness? I am sure that
none of you, even by mistake, would name any other than Philocrates.
And who, would you say, possessed the loudest voice and could enunciate
whatever he pleased most clearly? Aeschines the defendant, I am sure.
Who is it then that these men describe as cowardly and timid before a
crowd, while I call him cautious? It is myself; for I have never
annoyed you or forced myself upon you against your will. {207} Now at
every meeting of the Assembly, as often as a discussion has arisen upon
these subjects, you hear me accusing and convicting these men,
declaring explicitly that they have taken money and have sold all the
interests of the city. And not one of them has ever to this day
contradicted the statement, when he heard it, or opened his mouth, or
shown himself. {208} What then is the reason, why the most offensive
men in the city, the men with the loudest voices, are so cowed before
me, the timidest of men, whose voice is no louder than any other? It is
because Truth is strong; while to them, on the other hand, the
consciousness of having sold public interests is a source of weakness.
It is this that steals away the boldness of these men, this that binds
down their tongues and stops their mouths--chokes them, and makes them
silent. {209} You remember, of course, how at the recent meeting in the
Peiraeus, when you would not have him for your representative,[n] he
was shouting that he would impeach me and indict me, and crying, 'Oh!
Oh!' But such steps are the beginning of long and numerous trials and
speeches; whereas the alternative was but to utter perhaps two or three
words, which even a slave purchased yesterday could have
pronounced--'Men of Athens, this is utterly atrocious. Demosthenes is
accusing me here of crimes in which he himself was a partner; he says
that I have taken money, when he has taken money, or shared it,
himself.' {210} But no such words, no such sound, did he utter, nor did
one of you hear him do so; he only uttered threats to a different
effect. And why? Because he knew that he had done what he was charged
with doing; he was abjectly afraid to use any such expressions; his
resolution could not rise to them, but shrank back; for it was in the
grip of his conscience; whereas there was nothing to hinder him from
uttering irrelevant abuse and slander. {211} But here is the strongest
proof of all, and it consists not in words, but in fact. For when I was
anxious to do what it was right to do, namely, to make a second report
to you, after serving a second time as ambassador, Aeschines came
before the Board of Auditors with a number of witnesses, and forbade
them to call me before the court, since I had rendered my account
already, and was no longer liable to give it. The incident was
extremely ridiculous. And what was the meaning of it? He had made his
report with reference to the First Embassy, against which no one
brought any charge, and did not wish to go before the court again with
regard to the Second Embassy, with reference to which he now appears
before you, and within which all his crimes fell. {212} But if I came
before you twice, it became necessary for him also to appear again; and
so he tried to prevent them from summoning me. But this action of his,
men of Athens, plainly proves to you two things--first, that he had so
condemned himself that none of you can now acquit him without impiety;
and secondly, that he will not speak a word of truth about me. Had he
anything true to assert, he would have been found asserting it and
accusing me then; he would certainly not have tried to prevent my being
summoned. {213} To prove the truth of what I say, (_to the clerk_) call
me the witnesses to the facts.
But further, if he makes slanderous statements against me which have
nothing to do with the Embassy, there are many good reasons for your
refusing to listen to him. For I am not on my trial to-day, and when I
have finished my speech I have no further time allotted to me.[n] What
can such statements mean, except that he is bankrupt of legitimate
arguments? For who that was on his trial and had any defence to make,
would prefer to accuse another? {214} And consider also this further
point, gentlemen of the jury. If I were on my trial, with the defendant
Aeschines for accuser and Philip for judge; and if, being unable to
disprove my guilt, I abused Aeschines and tried to sully his character,
do you not think that Philip would be indignant at the very fact of a
man abusing _his_ benefactors in his own presence? Do not _you_ then
prove worse than Philip; but force Aeschines to defend himself against
the charges which are the subject of the trial. (_To the clerk._) Read
the deposition.
[_The deposition is read._]
{215} So for my part, because I had nothing on my conscience, I felt it
my duty to render an account and submit all the information that the
laws required, while the defendant took the opposite view. How then can
his conduct and mine have been the same? or how can he possibly assert
against me now things of which he has never even accused me before? It
is surely impossible. And yet he will assert these things, and, Heaven
knows, it is natural enough. For you doubtless know well that ever
since the human race began and trials were instituted, no one was ever
convicted admitting his crime: they brazen it out, they deny it, they
lie, they make up excuses, they take every means to escape paying the
penalty. {216} _You_ must not let any of these devices mislead you
to-day; your judgement must be given upon the facts, in the light of
your own knowledge; you must not attend to words, whether mine or his,
still less to the witnesses whom he will have ready to testify
anything, since he has Philip to pay his expenses--you will see how
glibly they will give evidence for him; nor must you care whether his
voice is fine and loud, or whether mine is poor. {217} For it is no
trial of orators or of speeches that you have to hold to-day, if you
are wise men. You have rather, in the name of a cause shamefully and
terribly ruined, to thrust off the present disgrace on to the shoulders
of the guilty, after a scrutiny of those results which are known to you
all. {218} And these results, which you know and do not require us to
tell you of--what are they? If the consequences of the Peace have been
all that they promised you; if you admit that you were so filled with
an unmanly cowardice, that, though the enemy was not in your land,
though you were not blockaded by sea, though your city was menaced by
no other danger whatever, though, on the contrary, the price of corn
was low and you were in other respects as well off as you are to-day,
{219} though you knew beforehand on the information of these men that
your allies were about to be ruined and Thebes to become powerful, that
Philip was about to occupy the Thracian strongholds and to establish a
basis of operations against you in Euboea, and that all that has now
happened was about to come to pass, you nevertheless made peace
cheerfully;--if that is so, then acquit Aeschines, and do not add
perjury to all your disgrace. For in that case he is guilty of no crime
against you; it is I that am mad and brainsick to accuse him now. {220}
But if what they told you was altogether the reverse of this, if it was
a tale of great generosity--of Philip's love for Athens, of his
intention to save the Phocians, to check the insolence of the Thebans,
and beside all this (if he obtained the Peace) to confer on you
benefits that would more than compensate for Amphipolis, and to restore
to you Euboea and Oropus; if, I say, they stated and promised all this,
and have now totally deceived and cheated you, and have all but robbed
you of Attica itself, then condemn him, and do not, in addition to all
the outrages--I know not what other word to use--that you have
suffered, carry with you to your homes, through upholding their
corruption, the curse and the guilt of perjury.
{221} Again, gentlemen of the jury, ask yourselves what reason I could
have had for choosing to accuse these men, if they had done no wrong?
You will find none. Is it pleasant to have many enemies? Pleasant? It
is not even safe. Was there any quarrel between me and Aeschines? None.
What then? 'You were afraid for yourself, and in your cowardice thought
to save yourself this way:' for that, I have heard, is what he says.
What? I was afraid, when, according to your own statement, there was
nothing to be afraid of, and no crime had been committed? If he repeats
such an assertion, men of Athens, consider[n] what these men
themselves, the actual criminals, ought to suffer for their offences,
if I, who am absolutely guiltless, was afraid of being ruined owing to
them. {222} But what is my motive for accusing you? I am an informer,
of course, and want to get money out of you![n] And which was the
easier course for me--to get money out of Philip, who offered a large
sum--to get as much as any of these men, and to have not only Philip
for my friend, but also my opponents (for they would assuredly have
been friends, had I been partner with them, since even now they have no
inherited quarrel against me, but only the fact that I refused to join
in their actions); or to beg them for a share of their gains, and be
regarded with hostility both by Philip and by them? Is it likely that
when I was ransoming the prisoners at such cost to myself, I should ask
to receive a paltry sum from these men, in a disgraceful manner and
with their enmity accompanying it? {223} Impossible! My report was
true. I abstained from taking money for the sake of justice and truth
and my own future. For I thought, as others among you have thought,
that my own uprightness would receive its reward, and that I must not
barter my ambition to stand well with you for gain of any kind. And I
abhor these men, because I saw that they were vile and impious in the
conduct of their mission, and because I have been robbed of the objects
of my own ambition, owing to their corruption, now that you have come
to be vexed with the Embassy as a whole. And it is because I foresee
what must happen that I now accuse him, and appear to challenge his
report; for I would have it decided here, in a trial before a jury,
that my conduct has been the opposite of his. {224} And I am
afraid--afraid, I say, for I will speak all my mind to you--that though
when the time comes you may drag me in spite of my entire innocence to
the same ruin with them, you are now utterly supine. For, men of
Athens, you appear to me to be altogether unstrung, waiting to suffer
the horrors which others are suffering before your eyes, and taking no
precautions, no thought for the city, which for so long has been
exposed to destruction in many a dreadful form. {225} Is it not, think
you, dreadful and preternatural? For even where I had resolved upon
silence, I am driven to speak. You doubtless know Pythocles here, the
son of Pythodorus. I had been on very kindly terms with him, and to
this day there has been no unpleasantness between us. He avoids me now,
when he meets me--ever since he visited Philip--and if he is obliged to
encounter me anywhere, he starts away immediately, lest any one should
see him talking with me. But with Aeschines he walks all round the
marketplace, discussing their plans. {226} Now is it not a terrible and
shocking thing, men of Athens, that those who have made it their choice
to foster Philip's interests should be able to rely upon so accurate a
discrimination on Philip's part, that all that any one of them does
here can no more be hid from Philip (so they believe) than if he were
standing by their side, and that his friends and foes alike are those
that Philip chooses; while those whose life is lived for _your_ good,
who are greedy of honour at _your_ hands, and have not betrayed you,
should be met by such deafness, such blindness, on your part, that
to-day I have to wrestle with these devils incarnate on equal terms,
and that before you, who know the whole truth? {227} Would you know or
hear the cause of these things? I will tell you, and I beg that none of
you be angry with me for speaking the truth. It is, I imagine, that
Philip has but one body and one soul, and it is with all his heart that
he cherishes those who do him good and detests those who do him evil:
whereas each of you, in the first place, has no feeling that the good
or the evil which is being done to the city, is being done to himself;
{228} other feelings are of more consequence, and often lead you
astray--pity, envy, anger, favour towards the suppliant, and an
infinite number of other motives: while if a man has actually escaped
all these, he will still not escape from those who do not want such a
man to exist at all. And so the error due to each of these single
causes steals on little by little, till the state is exposed to the
whole accumulated mischief.
{229} Do not fall victims to any such error to-day, men of Athens: do
not let the defendant go, when he has done you all this wrong. For
honestly, if you let him go, what will be said of you? 'Certain men,'
it will be said, 'went as ambassadors to Philip yonder--Philocrates,
Aeschines, Phrynon, and Demosthenes; and, what happened? One of them
not only gained nothing by his mission, but ransomed the prisoners at
his private expense; another, with the money for which he sold the
interests of his country, went about purchasing harlots and fish. {230}
One of them, the abominable Phrynon, sent his son to Philip before he
had registered him as an adult; the other did nothing unworthy of
himself or his city. One, though serving as choregus and trierarch,[n]
felt it his duty voluntarily to incur that further expense [to ransom
the prisoners] rather than see any of his fellow citizens suffering
misfortune for want of means; the other, so far from rescuing any of
those who were already in captivity, joined in bringing a whole
district, and more than 10,000 infantry and 1,000 cavalry with them,
the forces of the actual allies of his country, into captivity to
Philip. What followed? {231} When the Athenians got them into their
hands (for they had long known the truth) what did they do? They let go
the men who had received bribes and had disgraced themselves, and their
city, and their children; they thought that these were wise men, and
that all was well[n] with the city; and as for their accuser, they
thought him thunderstruck--a man who did not understand his country,
and did not know where to fling his money away.' {232} And who, men of
Athens, with this example before his eyes, will be willing to offer you
his honest service? who will act as ambassador for nothing, if he is
not only to gain nothing by it, but is not to be more trustworthy in
your eyes than those who have taken money? You are not only trying
these men to-day, but you are laying down a law for all future time--a
law which will declare whether your ambassadors are to serve the enemy
for a price, or to act disinterestedly for your true good and to take
no bribe? {233} On all the other points you require no evidence; but to
prove that Phrynon sent his son, (_to the clerk_) call me the witnesses
to the facts.
Aeschines then did not prosecute Phrynon, for sending his own son to
Philip for a disgraceful purpose. But because a man, who in his youth
was above the average in appearance, did not foresee the suspicion
which his good looks might entail, and afterwards lived a somewhat fast
life, he has prosecuted him for unnatural offences.
{234} Now let me speak of the banquet and the decree; for I had almost
overlooked what I was especially bound to tell you. In drawing up the
resolution of the Council with reference to the First Embassy, and
again in addressing the people, at the assemblies in which you were to
discuss the question of peace, not a single word or act of a criminal
nature on the part of these men having so far come to light, I followed
the ordinary custom, and proposed to accord them a vote of thanks, and
to invite them to the Town Hall. {235} And I did, of course, entertain
Philip's ambassadors as well, and on a very splendid scale, men of
Athens. For when I saw that in their own country they prided themselves
even on things like these, as showing their prosperity and splendour, I
thought that I must begin by outdoing them in this respect, and
displaying even greater magnificence. These incidents Aeschines will
shortly bring forward to prove that 'Demosthenes himself voted thanks
to us, and gave a banquet to the ambassadors', without telling you the
precise time when the incidents occurred. {236} For these things belong
to a time before any injury had been done to the city, and before it
was evident that they had sold themselves. The ambassadors had only
just arrived on their first visit; the people had still to hear what
they proposed; and there was nothing as yet to show that Aeschines
would support Philocrates, or that Philocrates would make such
proposals as he did. If, then, Aeschines uses any such argument,
remember that the dates of the incidents are earlier than those of his
crimes. But since then there has been no friendliness between myself
and them, and no common action. (_To the clerk._) Read the deposition.
[_The deposition is read._]
{237} Now perhaps his brother Philochares will support him, and
Aphobetus. There is much that you may fairly urge in reply to both; and
I am obliged, men of Athens, to speak to you quite freely and without
any reserve. You, Philochares, are a painter of vase-cases and drums;
your brothers are under-clerks and quite ordinary men--not that there
is any harm in these things, but at the same time they do not qualify a
man to be a general.[n] And yet, Aphobetus and Philochares, we thought
you worthy to be ambassadors and generals, and to receive the highest
honours; {238} so that even if none of you were guilty of any crime, we
should owe no gratitude to you; you would rather owe gratitude to us
for your preferment. For we passed by many others, more deserving of
such honours than you were, and exalted you instead. But if in the
enjoyment of these very honours one of you has actually committed
crimes, and crimes of such a nature, how much more deserving are you of
execration than of acquittal? Much more, I am sure. Perhaps they will
force their claims upon you, for they are loud-voiced and shameless,
and they have taken to themselves the motto that 'it is pardonable for
brother to help brother'. {239} But you must not give way. Remember
that if it is right for them to think of Aeschines, it is for you to
think of the laws and the whole State, and, above all, of the oath
which you yourselves, who sit here, have taken. Yes, and if they have
entreated some of you to save the defendant, then ask yourselves
whether you are to save him if he is proved innocent of crime, or even
if he is proved guilty. If they ask you to do so, should he be
innocent, I too say that you must acquit him. But if you are asked to
acquit him, whatever he has done, then they have asked you to commit
perjury. For though your vote is secret, it will not be hidden from the
gods; and the framer of our law [which enjoins secret voting] was
absolutely right, when he saw that though none of these men will know
which of you has granted his request, the gods will know, and the
unseen powers, who has given the unjust vote. {240} And it is better
for a man to lay up, for his children and himself, those good hopes
which _they_ can bestow, by giving the decision that is just and right,
than to win credit from these men for a favour of whose reality they
can have no certain knowledge, and to acquit the defendant, when his
own testimony condemns him. For what stronger testimony can I produce,
Aeschines, to prove how terrible your work as ambassador has been, than
your own testimony against yourself? For when you thought it necessary
to involve in so great and dreadful a calamity one who wished to reveal
some of your actions as ambassador, it is plain that you expected your
own punishment to be a terrible one, if your countrymen learned what
you had done.
{241} That step, if you are wise, he will prove to have taken to his
own detriment; not only because it is an overwhelming proof of the
nature of his conduct as ambassador, but also because of those
expressions which he used in the course of the prosecution, and which
are now at our disposal against himself. For the principles of justice,
as defined by you when you were prosecuting Timarchus, must, I presume,
be no less valid when used by others against yourself. {242} His words
to the jury on that occasion were these. 'Demosthenes intends to defend
Timarchus, and to denounce my acts as ambassador. And then, when he has
led you off the point by his speech, he will brag of it, and go about
saying, "Well? what do you think?[2] Why I led the jury right away from
the point, and stole the case triumphantly out of their hands."' Then
you at least must not act thus, but must make your defence with
reference to the real points of your case, though, when you were
prosecuting Timarchus on that occasion, you permitted yourself to make
any charges and assertions that you chose.
{243} But there were verses too, which you recited before the jury, in
your inability to produce any witness to the charges on which you were
prosecuting Timarchus:--
Rumour, the voice of many folk, not all
Doth die, for Rumour too a goddess is.[3]
Well, Aeschines, all those who are present say that you have made money
out of your mission; and so it holds true against you, I suppose, that
'Rumour, the voice of many folk, not all doth die'. {244} For observe
how easily you can ascertain how much larger a body of accusers appears
in your case than in his. Timarchus was not known even to all his
neighbors; while there is not a man, Hellene or foreigner, but says
that you and your fellow ambassadors made money out of your mission.
And so, if the rumour is true, then the rumour which is the voice of
many folk is against you; and you have yourself laid down that such a
rumour is to be believed, that 'Rumour too a goddess is', and that the
poet who composed these lines was a wise man.
{245} Then, you remember, he collected some iambic verses, and recited
the whole passage; for instance:--
Whoso in evil company delights
Of him I ne'er enquired, for well I trow,
As is his company, such is the man.[3]
And 'when a man goes to the cockpit[n] and walks about with
Pittalacus'--he added more to the same effect--'surely,' said he, 'you
know what to think of him.' Well, Aeschines, these same verses will now
exactly serve my turn against you, and if I quote them to the jury, the
quotation will be true and apposite. 'But whoso in the company
delights' of Philocrates, and that when he is an ambassador, 'Of him I
ne'er enquired, for well I trow' that he has taken money, as did
Philocrates who does not deny it.
{246} He attempts to insult others by labelling them hack-writers[n]
and sophists. He shall himself be proved liable to these very
imputations. The verses he quoted are derived from the _Phoenix_ of
Euripides--a play which has never to this day been acted either by
Theodorus or Aristodemus, the actors under whom Aeschines always played
third-rate parts, though it was performed by Molon, and no doubt by
other actors of former times. But the _Antigone_ of Sophocles has often
been acted by Theodorus and often by Aristodemus; and in this play
there are some admirable and instructive verses, which he must know
quite well by heart, since he has often delivered them himself, but
which he has omitted to quote. {247} For you know, I am sure, that in
every tragedy it is, as it were, the special privilege of third-rate
actors to play in the rôle of tyrants and sceptred kings. Consider,
then, these excellent lines, placed by the poet in the mouth of our
Creon-Aeschines in this play--lines which he neither repeated to
himself to guide him as an ambassador, nor yet quoted to the jury. (_To
the clerk._) Read the passage.
_Verses from the 'Antigone' of Sophocles._
To learn aright the soul and heart and mind
Of any man--for that, device is none,
Till he be proved in government and law,
And so revealed. For he who guides the State,
Yet cleaves not in his counsels to the best,
But from some fear in prison locks his tongue,
Is in mine eyes, as he hath ever been,
Vilest of men. And him, who sets his friend
Before his land, I count of no esteem.
For I--be it known to God's all-viewing eye--
Would ne'er keep silence, seeing the march of doom
Upon this city--doom in safety's stead,
Nor ever take to me as mine own friend
My country's foe.' For this I know, that she,
Our country, is the ship that bears us safe,
And safe aboard her, while she sails erect,
We make good friends.
{248} None of these lines did Aeschines ever repeat to himself during
his mission. Instead of preferring his country he thought that to be
friend and guest-friend of Philip was much more important and
profitable for himself, and bade a long farewell to the wise Sophocles.
He saw the 'march of doom' draw near, in the campaign against the
Phocians; but he gave no warning, no announcement of what was to come.
On the contrary, he helped to conceal it, he helped to carry out the
doom, he prevented those who would have given warning--{249} not
remembering that 'Our country is the ship that bears us safe, and safe
aboard her' his mother with the help of her initiations and
purifications and the property of the clients, on whom she lived,
reared up these sons of hers to their destined greatness;[n] while his
father, who kept an elementary school, as I am told by my elders, near
the temple of the Hero-Physician,[n] made a living, such as he could
indeed, but still on the same ship. The sons, who had received money as
under-clerks and servants in all the magistrates' offices, were finally
elected clerks by you, and for two years continued to get their living
in the Round Chamber;[n] and Aeschines was just now dispatched as your
ambassador--from this same ship. He regarded none of these things.
{250} He took no care that the ship should sail erect. Nay, he capsized
her; he sank the ship; he did all that he could to bring her into the
power of the enemy. What then? Are you not a sophist? Aye, and a
villanous one. Are you not a hack? Aye, and one detested of Heaven--for
you passed over the scene which you had so often performed and knew
well by heart, while you sought out a scene which you had never acted
in your life, and produced the passage in the hope of injuring one of
your fellow citizens.
{251} And now examine his speech about Solon. He told us that the
statue of Solon, with his hand concealed in the drapery of his robe,
was erected as an illustration of the self-restraint of the orators of
that day. (This was in the course of a scurrilous attack upon the
impetuosity of Timarchus.) But the Salaminians tell us that this statue
was erected less than fifty years ago, whereas some two hundred and
forty years have passed between the time of Solon and the present day;
so that not only was the artist, who modelled him in this attitude, not
living in Solon's day, but even his grandfather was not. {252} That
then is what he told the jury, copying the attitude as he did so. But
that which it would have done his country far more good to see--the
soul and the mind of Solon--he did not copy. No, he did the very
reverse. For when Salamis had revolted from Athens and the
death-penalty had been decreed against any one who proposed to attempt
its recovery, Solon, by singing, at the risk of his own life,[n] a lay
which he had composed, won back the island for his country, and wiped
out her disgrace: {253} while Aeschines, when the king and all the
Hellenes had decided that Amphipolis was yours, surrendered and sold
it, and supported Philocrates, who proposed the resolution for this
purpose. It is indeed worth his while (is it not?) to remember Solon!
Nor was he content with acting thus in Athens; for when he had gone to
Macedonia, he did not even mention the name of the place which it was
the object of his mission to secure. This, in fact, he reported to you
himself, in words which doubtless you remember: 'I too had something to
say about Amphipolis; but in order that Demosthenes might have an
opportunity of speaking upon the subject, I left it to him.' {254} Upon
which I came forward and denied that Aeschines had left to me anything
which he was anxious to say to Philip; he would rather have given any
one a share in his lifeblood than in his speech. The truth is, I
imagine, that he had taken money; and as Philip had given him the money
in order that he might not have to restore Amphipolis, he could not
speak in opposition to Philip's case. Now (_to the clerk_) take this
lay of Solon's and read it; and (_to the jury_) then you will know how
Solon used to hate all such men as this.
{255} It is not when you are speaking, Aeschines, but when you are upon
an embassy, that you should keep your hand within your robe. But on the
Embassy you held out your hand, and held it open; you brought shame to
your countrymen: and do you here assume a solemn air and recite in
those practised tones the miserable phrases that you have learned by
heart, and expect to escape the penalty for all your heinous
crimes--even if you do go round with a cap on your head,[n] uttering
abuse against me? (_To the clerk._) Read the verses.
_Solon's Lay._
The Father's voice hath spoken,
Whose word is Destiny,
And the blest Gods have willed it,
The Gods who shall not die;
That ne'er shall the Destroyer
Prevail against our land;
The Dread Sire's valiant Daughter
Guards us with eye and hand.
Yet her own sons, in folly,
Would lay their country low,
For pelf; and in her leaders
An heart of sin doth grow.
For them--their pride's fell offspring--
There waiteth grievous pain;
For sated still, they know not
Their proud lust to contain.
Not theirs, if mirth be with them,
The decent, peaceful feast;
To sin they yield, and sinning
Rejoice in wealth increased.
No hallowed treasure sparing,
Nor people's common store,
This side and that his neighbour
Each robs with havoc sore.
The holy law of Justice
They guard not. Silent she,
Who knows what is and hath been,
Awaits the time to be.
Then cometh she to judgement,
With certain step, tho' slow;
E'en now she smites the city,
And none may 'scape the blow.
To thraldom base she drives us,
From slumber rousing strife,--
Fell war of kin, destroying
The young, the beauteous life.
The foemen of their country
In wicked bands combine,
Fit company; and stricken
The lovely land doth pine.
These are the Wrong, the Mischief,
That pace the earth at home;
But many a beggared exile
To other lands must roam--
Sold, chained in bonds unseemly;
For so to each man's hall
Comes home the People's Sorrow,
And leaps the high fence-wall.
No courtyard door can stay it;
It follows to his side,
Flee tho' he may, and crouching
In inmost chamber hide.
Such warning unto Athens
My spirit bids me sound,
That Lawlessness in cities
Spreads evil all around;
But Lawfulness and Order
Make all things good and right,
Chaining Sin's hands in fetters,
Quenching the proud soul's light,
Smoothing the rough, the sated
Staying, and withering
The flowers, that, fraught with ruin,
From fatal seed upspring.
The paths of crooked justice
Are turned into straight;
The ways of Pride grow gentle,
The ways of Strife and Hate;
Then baleful Faction ceases,
Then Health prevails alway,
And Wisdom still increases,
Beneath Law's wholesome sway.
{256} You hear, men of Athens, how Solon speaks of men like these, and
of the gods, who, he says, preserve the city. It is my belief and my
hope that this saying of his, that the gods preserve our city, is true
at all times; but I believe that all that has happened in connexion
with the present examination is, in a sense, a special proof of the
goodwill of some unseen power towards the city. {257} Consider what has
happened. A man who as ambassador did a work of great wickedness, and
has surrendered countries in which the gods should have been worshipped
by yourselves and your allies, has disfranchised one who accepted the
challenge[n] to prosecute him. To what end? To the end that he himself
might meet with no pity or mercy for his own iniquities. Nay, more;
while prosecuting his victim he deliberately set himself to speak evil
of me; and again, before the People, he threatened to enter an
indictment against me, and said more to the same effect. And to what
end? To the end that I, who had the most perfect knowledge of all his
acts of villany, and had followed them closely throughout, might have
your full indulgence in prosecuting him. {258} Aye, and through
postponing his appearance before you continually up to the present
moment, he has been insensibly brought to a time when, on account of
what is coming upon us, if for no other reason, it is neither possible
nor safe for you to allow him (after his corruption) to escape
unscathed. For though, men of Athens, you ought always to execrate and
to punish those who are traitors and corrupt, to do so at this time
would be more than ever seasonable, and would confer a benefit upon all
mankind in common. {259} For a disease, men of Athens, an awful disease
has fallen upon Hellas--a disease hard to cope with, and requiring
abundant good fortune, and abundant carefulness on your own part. For
the most notable men in their several cities, the men who claim[n] to
lead in public affairs, are betraying their own liberty--unhappy
men!--and bringing upon themselves a self-chosen servitude, under the
milder names of friendship and companionship with Philip, and other
such phrases; while the other citizens, and the sovereign bodies in
each city, however composed, whose duty it was to punish these men and
slay them out of hand, are so far from taking any such action, that
they admire and envy them, and every one would be glad to be in the
same case. {260} Yet it is from this very cause--it is through
entertaining ambitions like these--that the Thessalians, who up to
yesterday or the day before had lost thereby only their paramount
position[n] and their dignity as a state, are now already being
stripped of their very liberty; for there are Macedonian garrisons in
some of their citadels. This same disease it is which has invaded the
Peloponnese and brought about the massacres in Elis, infecting the
unhappy people of that country with such insanity and frenzy, that in
order to be lords over one another and to gratify Philip, they murder
their kinsmen and fellow citizens. {261} Not even here has the disease
been stayed: it has penetrated Arcadia and turned it upside-down; and
now many of the Arcadians, who should be no less proud of liberty than
yourselves--for you and they alone are indigenous peoples--are
declaring their admiration for Philip, erecting his image in bronze,
and crowning him; and, to complete the tale, they have passed a
resolution that, if he comes to the Peloponnese, they will receive him
within their walls. {262} The Argives have acted in exactly the same
way. These events, I say it in all solemnity and earnestness, call for
no small precautions: for this plague, men of Athens, that is spreading
all around us, has now found its way to Athens itself. While then we
are still safe, ward it off, and take away the citizenship of those who
first introduced it. Beware lest otherwise you realize the worth of the
advice given you this day, only when there is no longer anything that
you can do. {263} Do you not perceive, men of Athens, how vivid and
plain an example has been afforded you by the unhappy Olynthians? The
destruction of those wretched men was due to nothing so much as to
conduct like that of which I speak. You can test this clearly if you
review their history. {264} For at a time when they possessed only 400
cavalry, and numbered not more than 5,000 men in all, since the
Chalcidians were not yet all united under one government, the Spartans
came against them with a large force, including both army and fleet
(for you doubtless remember that at that period the Spartans were
virtually masters both of land and sea); and yet, though this great
force came against them, the Olynthians lost neither the city nor any
single fortress, but won many battles, killed three of the enemy's
commanders, and finally concluded the war on their own terms.[n] {265}
But when some of them began to take bribes, and the people as a whole
were foolish enough, or rather unfortunate enough, to repose greater
confidence in these men than in those who spoke for their own good;
when Lasthenes roofed his house with the timber which came from
Macedonia, and Euthycrates was keeping a large herd of cattle for which
he had paid no one anything; when a third returned with sheep, and a
fourth with horses, while the people, to whose detriment all this was
being done, so far from showing any anger or any disposition to
chastise men who acted so, actually gazed on them with envy, and paid
them honour and regarded them as heroes--{266} when, I say, such
practices were gaining ground in this way, and corruption had been
victorious; then, though they possessed 1,000 cavalry and numbered more
than 10,000 men; though all the surrounding peoples were their allies;
though you went to their assistance with 10,000 mercenaries and 50
ships, and with 4,000 citizen-soldiers as well, none of these things
could save them. Before a year of the war had expired they had lost all
the cities in Chalcidice, while Philip could no longer keep pace with
the invitations of the traitors, and did not know which place to occupy
first. {267} Five hundred horsemen were betrayed by their own
commanders and captured by Philip, with their arms--a larger number
than were ever before captured by any one. And the men who acted thus
were not ashamed to face the sun or the earth--the soil of their native
land--on which they stood, or the temples, or the sepulchres of the
dead, or the disgrace which was bound to follow upon such deeds
afterwards. Such is the madness and distraction which corruption
engenders. So it is for you--for you, the People--to be wise, to refuse
to suffer such things, and to visit them with public chastisement. For
it would be monstrous indeed, if, after the terrible condemnation which
you passed upon those who betrayed the Olynthians, it were seen that
you allowed the criminals who are in your very midst to go unpunished.
(_To the clerk._) Read the decree passed with reference to the
Olynthians.
[_The decree is read._]
{268} This decree, gentlemen of the jury, is one which in the eyes of
all, Hellenes and foreigners alike, it was right and honourable in you
to have passed in condemnation of traitors and men detested of Heaven.
And so, since the taking of the bribe is the step which precedes such
actions, and it is the bribe that prompts the traitor's deeds,
whenever, men of Athens, you find a man receiving a bribe, you must
count him a traitor as well. That one man betrays opportunities, and
another affairs of state, and another soldiers, means only, I imagine,
that each works mischief in the particular department over which he has
control; but there should be no distinction in your execration of all
such men. {269} You, men of Athens, are the only people in the world
who can draw from your own history examples which bear upon this
matter, and who have those ancestors, whom you rightly praise, to
imitate in your actions. You may not be able, at the present time, to
imitate them in the battles, the campaigns, the perils in which they
distinguished themselves, since at the present moment you are at peace;
but at least you can imitate their wisdom. {270} For of wisdom there is
need everywhere; and a right judgement is no more laborious or
troublesome a thing than a wrong one. Each of you need sit here no
longer, in order to judge and vote on the question before him aright,
and so to make his country's position a better one, and worthy of our
ancestors, than he must in order to judge and vote wrongly, and so make
it worse and unworthy of our ancestors. What then were their sentiments
on this matter? (_To the clerk._) Take this, clerk, and read it: (_to
the jury_) for I would have you see that the acts towards which you are
so indifferent are acts for which your forefathers voted death to the
doers. (_To the clerk._) Read.
[_An inscription is read._]
{271} You hear the inscription, men of Athens, declaring that
Arthmius[n] of Zeleia, son of Pythonax, is a foe and a public enemy to
the people of Athens and their allies--both he and all his house. And
why? Because he brought the gold from the foreigner to the Hellenes.
Apparently, therefore, we may judge from this, that your ancestors
sought to ensure that no one, not even a stranger, should work mischief
against Hellas for money; whereas you do not even seek to prevent any
of your fellow citizens from injuring his own city. {272} 'But,' it may
be said, 'the inscription occupies a quite unimportant position.' On
the contrary, although all yonder Acropolis is sacred and there is no
lack of space upon it, this inscription stands on the right hand of the
great bronze statue of Athena, the prize of valour in the war against
the barbarians, set up by the State with funds which the Hellenes had
presented to her. In those days, therefore, uprightness was so sacred,
and such merit was attached to the punishment of actions like these,
that the sentences passed upon such crimes were thought to deserve the
same position as the prize-statue of the goddess. And now, unless you,
in your turn, set a check upon this excess of licence, the result must
be ridicule, impunity, and shame.[5] {273} You would do well, I think,
men of Athens, to imitate your forefathers, not in this or that point
alone, but continuously, and in all that they did. Now I am sure that
you have all heard the story of Callias,[n] the son of Hipponicus, to
whose diplomacy was due the Peace which is universally celebrated, and
which provided that the king should not come down by land within a
day's ride of the sea, nor sail with a ship of war between the
Chelidonian islands and the Cyanean rocks. He was thought to have taken
bribes on his mission; and your forefathers almost put him to death,
and actually fined him, at the examination of his report, a sum of 50
talents. {274} True it is, that no more honourable peace can be
mentioned than this, of all which the city ever made before or
afterwards. But it was not to this that they looked. The nature of the
Peace they attributed to their own prowess and the glory of their city:
but whether the transaction was disinterested or corrupt, depended upon
the character of the ambassador; and they expected the character
displayed by one who took part in public affairs to be upright and
incorruptible. {275} Your ancestors, then, regarded corruption as so
inimical, so unprofitable, to the state, that they would not admit it
in connexion with any single transaction or any single man; while you,
men of Athens, though you have seen that the Peace which has laid low
the walls of your own allies is building the houses of your
ambassadors--that the Peace which has robbed the city of her
possessions has secured for them more than they had ever before hoped
for even in their dreams--you, I say, instead of putting them to death
of your own accord, need a prosecutor to assist you; and when all can
see their crimes in very deed, you are making their trial a trial of
words.
{276} It is not, however, by the citation of ancient history, nor by
these examples alone, that one may stimulate you to vengeance: for even
within the lifetime of yourselves, who are here and still living, many
have paid the penalty. All the rest of these I will pass over; but I
will mention one or two of those who were punished with death, on
returning from a mission whose results have been far less disastrous to
the city than those of the present Embassy. (_To the clerk._) Take then
this decree and read it.
[_The decree is read._]
{277} In this decree, men of Athens, you passed sentence of death upon
those ambassadors, one of whom was Epicrates,[n] a good man, as I am
told by my elders, and one who had in many ways been of service to his
country--one of those who brought the people back from the Peiraeus,[n]
and who was generally an upholder of the democracy. Yet none of these
services helped him, and rightly. For one who claims to manage affairs
of such magnitude has not merely to be half honest; he must not secure
your confidence and then take advantage of it to increase his power to
do mischief; he must do absolutely no wrong against you of his own
will. {278} Now if there is one of the things for which those men were
sentenced to death, that these men have not done, you may put me to
death without delay. Observe what the charges were. 'Since they
conducted their mission,' says the decree,[n] 'contrary to the terms of
the resolution'--that is the first of the charges. And have not these
men contravened the terms of the resolution? Does not the decree speak
of peace 'for the Athenians and the allies of the Athenians?' and did
they not exclude the Phocians from the treaty? Does not the decree bid
them administer the oath to the magistrates in the several cities? and
did they not administer it to men sent to them by Philip? Does not the
resolution forbid them 'to meet Philip anywhere alone?' and did they
not incessantly do business with him privately? {279} Again I read,
'And some of them have been convicted of making a false report before
the Council.' But these men have been convicted of doing so before the
People as well. And convicted by whom? for this is the splendid
thing.[n] Convicted by the actual facts; for all that has happened, as
you know, has been the exact reverse of what they announced. 'And,' the
decree goes on, 'of not sending true dispatches.' Nor did these men.
'And of accusing our allies falsely and taking bribes.' Instead of
'accusing falsely', say, 'of having utterly ruined'--surely a far more
heinous thing than a false accusation. And as for the charge of taking
bribes, if it had been denied, it would still have required proof; but
since they admitted it, a summary procedure was surely the proper one.
{280} What then will you do, men of Athens? You are the offspring of
that generation, and some of you are actually survivors from it; and
will you endure it, that Epicrates, the benefactor of the people, one
of the men from the Peiraeus, should have been exiled and punished;[n]
that Thrasybulus, again, the son of the great Thrasybulus, the People's
friend, who brought the people back from Phyle, should recently have
been fined ten talents; and that the descendant of Harmodius,[n] and of
those who achieved for you the greatest of blessings, and whom, for the
benefits which they conferred upon you, you have caused to share in the
libations and the bowls outpoured, in every temple where sacrifice is
offered, singing of them and honouring them as you honour heroes and
gods--{281} that all these, I say, should have undergone the penalty
ordained by the laws, and that no feeling of compassion or pity, nor
the tears of their children who bore the names of our benefactors, nor
aught else, should have availed them anything: and yet, when you have
to do with the son of Atrometus the schoolmaster, and Glaucothea, who
used to hold those meetings of the initiated, a practice for which
another priestess[n] was put to death--when you have in your hands the
son of such parents, a man who never did a single service to his
country--neither himself, nor his father, nor any of his house--will
you let him go? {282} Where is the horse, the trireme, the military
service, the chorus, the burden undertaken[n] for the state, the
war-contribution, the loyal action, the peril undergone, for which in
all their lifetime the city has had to thank him or his? Aye, and even
if all these stood to his credit, and those other qualifications, of
uprightness and integrity in his mission, were not also to be found in
him, it would surely have been right that he should perish. But when
neither the one nor the other are to be found, will you not avenge
yourselves upon him? {283} Will you not call to mind his own words,
when he was prosecuting Timarchus--that there was no help for a city
which had no sinews to use against the criminal, nor for a constitution
in which compassion and solicitation were more powerful than the
laws--that it was your duty not to pity the aged mother of Timarchus,
nor his children, nor any one else, but to attend solely to one point,
namely, that if you abandoned the cause of the laws and the
constitution, you would look in vain for any to have pity on
yourselves. {284} Is that unhappy man to have lost his rights as a
citizen, because he witnessed the guilt of Aeschines, and will you then
suffer Aeschines to escape unscathed? On what ground can you do so? for
if Aeschines demanded so heavy a penalty from those whose sins were
against their own persons, what must be the magnitude of the penalty
which _you_ should require--you, the sworn judges of the case--from
those who have sinned so greatly against their country's interests, and
of whom Aeschines is convincingly proved to be one? {285} 'But,' we are
told, 'that was a trial which will raise the moral standard of our
young men.' Yes, and this trial will raise that of our statesmen, upon
whose character the supreme interests of the city are staked. For your
care ought to extend to them also. But you must realize that his real
motive for ruining Timarchus himself was not, Heaven knows, to be found
in any anxiety for the virtue of your sons. Indeed, men of Athens, they
are virtuous even now; for I trust that the city will never have fallen
so low, as to need Aphobetus and Aeschines to reform the morals of the
young. {286} No! the reason was that Timarchus had proposed in the
Council, that if any one was convicted of conveying arms or fittings
for ships of war to Philip, the penalty should be death. And here is a
proof. How long had Timarchus been in the habit of addressing you? For
a long time. Now throughout all this time Aeschines was in Athens, and
never showed any vexation or indignation at the fact of such a man
addressing you, until he had been to Macedonia and made himself a
hireling. (_To the clerk._) Come, take the actual decree which
Timarchus proposed, and read it.
[_The decree is read._]
{287} So the man who proposed on your behalf the resolution which
forbade, on pain of death, the supply of arms to Philip during the war,
has been ruined and treated with contumely; while Aeschines, who had
surrendered the arms of your very allies to Philip, was his accuser,
and charged him--I call Heaven and Earth to witness--with unnatural
offences, although two of his own kinsmen stood by his side, the very
sight of whom would call forth a cry of protest from you--the
disgusting Nicias, who went to Egypt and hired himself to Chabrias, and
the accursed Cyrebion,[n] who joins in processions, as a reveller,[n]
without a mask. Nay, why mention these things? His own brother
Aphobetus was there before his eyes! In very truth all the words that
were spoken on that day about unnatural offences were water flowing up
stream.[n]
{288} And now, to show you the dishonour into which the villainy and
mendacity of the defendant have brought our country, passing by all
besides, I will mention a fact known to you all. Formerly, men of
Athens, all the other Hellenes used to watch attentively, to see what
had been resolved in your Assembly; but now we are already going about
and inquiring what others have decided--trying to overhear what the
Arcadians are doing, or the Amphictyons, or where Philip will be next,
and whether he is alive or dead. {289} We do this, do we not? But for
me the terrible question is not whether Philip is alive, but whether in
this city the habit of execrating and punishing criminals is dead.
Philip has no terrors for me, if your own spirit is sound; but the
prospect that you may grant security to those who wish to receive their
wages from him--that they may be supported by some of those whom you
have trusted, and that those who have all along denied that they were
acting in Philip's interests may now mount the platform in their
defence--that is the prospect which terrifies me. {290} Tell me,
Eubulus, why it was, that at the recent trial of your cousin
Hegesilaus,[n] and of Thrasybulus, the uncle of Niceratus, when the
primary question[n] was before the jury, you would not even respond
when they called upon you; and that when you rose to speak on the
assessment of the penalty,[n] you uttered not a word in their defence,
but only asked the jury to be indulgent to you? Do you refuse to ascend
the platform in defence of kinsmen and relations, {291} and will you
then do so in defence of Aeschines, who, when Aristophon was
prosecuting Philonicus, and in accusing him was denouncing your own
acts, joined with him in accusing you, and was found in the ranks of
your enemies? You frightened your countrymen here by saying that they
must either march down to the Peiraeus at once, and pay the war-tax,
and convert the festival-fund into a war-fund, or else pass the decree
advocated by Aeschines and proposed by the shameless Philocrates--{292}
a decree, of which the result was that the Peace became a disgraceful
instead of a fair one, and that these men have ruined everything by
their crimes: and have you, after all this, become reconciled to him?
You uttered imprecations upon Philip, in the presence of the people,
and swore by the life of your children that you would be glad if
perdition seized him; and will you now come to the aid of Aeschines?
How can perdition seize Philip, when you are trying to save those who
take bribes from him? {293} Why is it that you prosecuted Moerocles for
misappropriating 20 drachmae out of the sums paid by each of the
lessees of the mines, and indicted Ctesiphon for the theft of sacred
moneys, because he paid 7 minae into the bank three days too late; and
yet, when men have taken money and confess it, and are convicted, by
being caught in the very act, of having done so in order to bring about
the ruin of our allies, you do not prosecute them, but even command
their acquittal? {294} But the appalling character of these crimes and
the great watchfulness and caution that they call for, and the
triviality of the offences for which you prosecuted those other men,
may further be seen in this way. Were there any men in Elis who stole
public funds? It is very likely indeed. Well, had any of them anything
to do with the overthrow of the democracy there? Not one of them.
Again, while Olynthus was standing, were there others of the same
character there? I am sure that there were. Was it then through them
that Olynthus was destroyed? No. Again, do you not suppose that in
Megara there was someone who was a thief and who embezzled public
funds? There must have been. Well, has any such person been shown to be
responsible for the recent crisis there? {295} Not one. But of what
sort _are_ the men who commit crimes of such a character and magnitude?
They are those who count themselves worthy to be styled friends and
guest-friends of Philip, who would fain be generals, who claim[n] to be
leaders, who must needs be exalted above the people. Was not Perillus
put on his trial lately before the Three Hundred at Megara, because he
went to Philip's court; and did not Ptoeodorus, the first man in Megara
in wealth, family, and distinction, come forward and beg him off, and
send him back again to Philip? and was not the consequence that the one
came back at the head of the mercenaries, while the other was churning
the butter[n] at home? {296} For there is nothing, nothing, I say, in
the world, which you must be so careful not to do, as not to allow any
one to become more powerful than the People. I would have no man
acquitted or doomed, to please any individual. Only let us be sure that
the man whose actions acquit or condemn him will receive from you the
verdict he deserves. {297} That is the true democratic principle. And
further, it is true that many men have come to possess great influence
with you at particular times--Callistratus, and again Aristophon,
Diophantus, and others before them. But where did each of these
exercise his primacy? In the Assembly of the People. But in the
law-courts no man has ever, to this day, carried more influence than
the laws and the juror's oath. Do not then allow the defendant to have
such influence to-day. To prove to you that there is good reason for
you not to trust, but to beware of such influence, I will read you an
oracle of the gods, who always protect the city far better than do its
foremost citizens. (_To the clerk._) Read the oracles.
[_The oracles are read._]
{298} You hear, men of Athens, the warnings of the gods. If these
responses were given by them when you were at war, they mean that you
must beware of your generals, since in war it is the generals who are
leaders; but if they were uttered after you had made peace, they must
refer to those who are at the head of your government; for these are
the leaders whom you obey, and it is by these that you are in danger of
being led astray. 'And hold the state together' [says the oracle]
'until all are of one mind, and afford no joy to their foes.' {299}
Which event then, men of Athens, do you think would afford joy to
Philip--the acquittal of one who has brought about all this evil, or
his punishment? His acquittal, I am sure. But the oracle, you see, says
that we should so act as not to afford joy to our foes; and therefore,
by the mouth of Zeus, of Dione,[n] and of all the gods, is this
exhortation given to us all, that with one mind we chastise those who
have done any service to our enemies. Without are those who are
plotting against us, within are their confederates. The part of the
plotters is to offer the bribe; that of their confederates is to
receive it, and to save from condemnation those who have received it.
{300} And further, it needs no more than human reason to arrive at the
conclusion that nothing can be more hateful and dangerous than to allow
your first citizen to be intimate with those whose objects are not
those of the People. Consider by what means Philip has become master of
the entire situation, and by what means he has accomplished the
greatest of his successes. It has been by purchasing the opportunities
for action from those who offered them for sale--by corrupting and
exciting the aspirations of the leaders of their several cities. {301}
These have been the means. Now both of these methods it is in your
power, if you wish it, to render futile to-day, if you will refuse to
listen to prominent persons who speak in defence of such practices, and
will thus prove that they have no power over you--for now they assert
that they have you under their control--while at the same time you
punish the man who has sold himself, and let all the world see what you
have done. {302} For you would have reason enough, men of Athens, for
being angry with any man who had acted so, and had betrayed your allies
and your friends and your opportunities (for with these are bound up
the whole prosperity or adversity of every people), but with no one
more than with Aeschines, or with greater justice. After taking up a
position as one of those who mistrusted Philip--after being the first
and the only man to perceive that Philip was the common enemy of all
the Hellenes--he deserted, he betrayed you; he suddenly became Philip's
supporter. Surely he deserves to die many times over! {303} Nay, he
himself will not be able to deny that these things are so. For who was
it that brought Ischander forward before you originally, stating that
he had come from the friends of Athens in Arcadia? Who was it that
cried out that Philip was organizing Hellas and the Peloponnese against
you, while you were asleep? Who was it that delivered those long and
noble orations to the people, that read to you the decrees of Miltiades
and Themistocles, and the oath of the young soldiers[n] in the temple
of Aglaurus? {304} Was it not the defendant? Who was it that persuaded
you to send embassies almost as far as the Red Sea, on the ground that
Philip was plotting against Hellas, and that it was for you to foresee
this and not to sacrifice the interests of the Hellenes? Was it not
Eubulus who proposed the decree, while the ambassador to the
Peloponnese was the defendant Aeschines? What expressions he used in
his address to the people, after he arrived there, is best known to
himself: but I know you all remember what he reported to you. {305}
Many a time in the course of his speech he called Philip 'barbarian'
and 'devil'; and he reported the delight of the Arcadians at the
thought that Athens was now waking up and attending to public affairs.
One thing he told us, which caused him, he said, more distress than
anything else. As he was leaving, he met Atrestidas, who was travelling
home from Philip's court, and with him were walking some thirty women
and children. Wondering at this, he asked one of the travellers who the
man was, and what this crowd was along with him; {306} and on hearing
that it was Atrestidas, who was on his way home, and that these with
him were captives from Olynthus whom Philip had given him as a present,
he was struck with the atrocity of the thing and burst into tears, and
lamented the unhappy condition of Hellas, that she should allow such
tragedies to pass unnoticed. At the same time he counselled you to send
representatives to Arcadia to denounce Philip's agents, saying that his
friends told him that if Athens took notice of the matter and sent
envoys, Philip's agents would be punished. {307} Such, men of Athens,
was the tenor of his speeches then; and very noble they were, and
worthy of this city. But when he had been to Macedonia, and had seen
the enemy of himself and of the Hellenes, were his speeches couched any
more in the same or a similar tone? Far from it! He told you that you
must neither remember your forefathers nor mention your trophies, nor
go to the aid of any one. He was amazed, he said, at those who urged
you to confer with the rest of the Hellenes in regard to the Peace with
Philip, as though there was any need to convince some one else about a
matter which was purely your own affair. {308} And as for Philip, 'Why,
good gracious!' said he, 'Philip is the most thorough Hellene in the
world, a most able speaker, and most friendly towards Athens: only
there are certain persons in Athens so unreasonable and so churlish,
that they are not ashamed to slander him and call him "barbarian".' Now
is it possible that the man who had formerly spoken as Aeschines did,
should now have dared to speak in such a way, if he had not been
corrupted? What? {309} Is there a man who after conceiving such
detestation for Atrestidas, owing to those children and women from
Olynthus, could have endured to act in conjunction with Philocrates,
who brought freeborn Olynthian women here to gratify his lust, and is
so notorious for his abominable living, that it is unnecessary for me
now to use any offensive or unpleasant expression about him; for if I
say that Philocrates brought women here, the rest will be understood by
all of you and of the bystanders, and you will, I am sure, pity the
poor unhappy creatures--though Aeschines felt no pity for them, and
shed no tears for Hellas at the sight of them, or at the thought of the
outrages they were suffering among their own allies at the hands of our
ambassadors. {310} No! he will shed tears on his own behalf--he whose
proceedings as ambassador have had such results--and perhaps he will
bring forward his children, and mount them upon the platform. But,
gentlemen of the jury, when you see the children of Aeschines, remember
that the children of many of your allies and friends are now vagabonds,
wandering in beggary, owing to the cruel treatment they have suffered
in consequence of his conduct, and that these deserve your compassion
far more than those whose father is a criminal and a traitor. Remember
that your own children have been robbed even of their hopes by these
men, who inserted among the terms of the Peace the clause which
extended it to posterity. And when you see the tears of Aeschines,
remember that you have now before you a man who urged you to send
representatives to Arcadia to denounce the agents of Philip. {311} Now
to-day you need send no embassy to the Peloponnese; you need take no
long journey; you need incur no travelling expenses. Each of you need
only come as far as this platform, to deposit the vote which piety and
justice demand of him, on behalf of your country; and to condemn the
man who--I call Earth and Heaven to witness!--after originally
delivering the speeches which I described, speaking of Marathon and of
Salamis, and of your battles and your trophies, suddenly--so soon as he
had set foot in Macedonia--changed his tone completely, and told you
that you must not remember your forefathers, nor recount your trophies,
nor go to the aid of any one, nor take common counsel with the
Hellenes--who all but told you that you must pull down your walls.
{312} Never throughout all time, up to this day, have speeches more
shameful than these been delivered before you. What Hellene, what
foreigner, is so dense, or so uninstructed, or so fierce in his hatred
of our city, that if one were to put to him this question, and say,
'Tell me now; of all Hellas, as it now is--all this inhabited
country--is there any part which would have been called by this name,
or inhabited by the Hellenes who now possess it, unless those who
fought at Marathon and Salamis, our forefathers, had displayed that
high prowess on their behalf?' Why, I am certain that not one would
answer 'Yes': they would say that all these regions must have been
conquered by the barbarians. {313} If then no single man, not even one
of our enemies, would have deprived them of these their panegyrics and
praises, does Aeschines forbid you to remember them--you their
descendants--in order that he himself may receive money? In all other
blessings, moreover, the dead have no share; but the praises which
follow their noble deeds are the peculiar possession of those who have
died thus; for then even envy opposes them no longer. Of these praises
Aeschines would deprive them; and justly, therefore, would he now be
deprived of his privileges as as a citizen, and justly, in the name of
your forefathers, would you exact from him this penalty. Such words you
used, nevertheless, in the wickedness of your heart, to despoil and
traduce the deeds of our forefathers, and by your word you ruined all
our interests in very deed. {314} And then, as the outcome of this, you
are a landed gentleman, and have become a personage of consequence! For
this, too, you must notice. Before he had wrought every kind of
mischief against the city he acknowledged that he had been a clerk; he
was grateful to you for having elected him, and behaved himself
modestly. But since he has wrought countless evils, he has drawn up his
eyebrows, and if any one speaks of 'Aeschines the late clerk', he is
his enemy at once, and declares that he has been insulted: he walks
through the market-place with his cloak trailing down to his ankles,
keeping step with Pythocles,[n] and puffing out his cheeks--already one
of Philip's friends and guest-friends, if you please--one of those who
would be rid of the democracy, and who regard the established
constitution as so much tempestuous madness--he who was once the humble
servant of the Round Chamber.
{315} I wish now to recapitulate to you summarily the ways in which
Philip got the better of you in policy, when he had taken these
heaven-detested men to aid him. It is well worth while to review and
contemplate the course of his deception as a whole. It began with his
anxiety for peace; for his country was being plundered, and his ports
were closed, so that he could enjoy none of the advantages which they
afforded; and so he sent the messengers who uttered those generous
sentiments on his behalf--Neoptolemus, Aristodemus, and Ctesiphon.
{316} But so soon as we went to him as your ambassadors, he immediately
hired the defendant to second and co-operate with the abominable
Philocrates, and so get the better of those who wished to act
uprightly; and he composed such a letter to you as he thought would be
most likely to help him to obtain peace. {317} But even so, he had no
better chance than before of effecting anything of importance against
you, unless he could destroy the Phocians. And this was no easy matter.
For he had now been reduced, as if by chance, to a position in which he
must either find it impossible to effect any of his designs, or else
must perforce lie and forswear himself, and make all men, whether
Hellenes or foreigners, witnesses of his own baseness. {318} For if, on
the one hand, he received the Phocians as allies, and administered the
oath to them together with yourselves, it at once became necessary for
him to break his oaths to the Thessalians and Thebans; for he had sworn
to aid the latter in the reduction of Boeotia, and the former in the
recovery of their place in the Amphictyonic Council; but if, on the
other hand, he refused to receive them (as in fact he did reject them),
he thought that you would not let him cross the Pass, but would rally
to Thermopylae--and so you would have done, had you not been misled;
and if this happened, he calculated that he would be unable to march
across. {319} Nor had he to learn this from others; he had already the
testimony of his own experience. For on the occasion of his first
defeat of the Phocians, when he destroyed their mercenaries and their
leader and general, Onomarchus, although not a single human being,
Hellene or foreigner, came to the aid of the Phocians, except
yourselves, so far was he from crossing the Pass and thereafter
carrying out any of his designs, that he could not even approach near
it. {320} He realized, I imagine, quite clearly, that at a time when
the feelings of the Thessalians were turning against him, and the
Pheraeans (to take the first instance) refused to accompany him--when
the Thebans were being worsted and had lost a battle, and a trophy had
been erected to celebrate their defeat--it was impossible for him to
cross the Pass, if you rallied to its defence; and that if he made the
attempt he would regret it, unless some cunning could be called in to
aid him. How then, he asked, can I avoid open falsehood, and yet
accomplish all that I wish without appearing perjured? How can it be
done? It can be done, if I can get some of the Athenians to deceive the
Athenians. In that case the discredit no longer falls to my share.
{321} And so Philip's own envoys first informed you that Philip
declined to receive the Phocians as allies; and then these men took up
the tale, and addressed you to the effect that it was inconvenient to
Philip to receive the Phocians as your allies openly, on account of the
Thebans and the Thessalians; but if he gets command of the situation,
they said, and is granted the Peace, he will do just what we should now
request him to promise to do. {322} So they obtained the Peace from
you, by holding out these seductive hopes, without including the
Phocians. But they had still to prevent the expedition to Thermopylae,
for the purpose of which, despite the Peace, your fifty ships were
still lying ready at anchor, in order that, if Philip marched, you
might prevent him. {323} How then could it be done? what cunning could
be used in regard to this expedition in its turn? They must deprive you
of the necessary time, by bringing the crisis upon you suddenly, so
that, even if you wished to set out, you might be unable to do so. So
this, it appears, was what these men undertook to do; while for my
part, as you have often been told, I was unable to depart in advance of
them, and was prevented from sailing even when I had hired a boat for
the purpose. {324} But it was further necessary that the Phocians
should come to believe in Philip and give themselves up to him
voluntarily, in order that there might be no delay in carrying out the
plan, and that no hostile decree whatever might issue from you. 'And
therefore,' said he, 'the Athenian ambassadors shall announce that the
Phocians are to be preserved from destruction, so that even if any one
persists in distrusting me, he will believe them, and put himself in my
hands. We will summon the Athenians themselves, so that they may
imagine that all that they want is secured, and may pass no hostile
decree: but the ambassadors shall make such reports about us, and give
such promises, as will prevent them from moving under any
circumstances.' {325} It was in this way, and by such trickery as this,
that all was ruined, through the action of these doomed wretches. For
immediately afterwards, as you know, instead of seeing Thespiae and
Plataeae repeopled, you heard that Orchomenus and Coroneia had been
enslaved; instead of Thebes being humbled and stripped of her insolence
and pride, the walls of your own allies were being razed, and it was
the Thebans who were razing them--the Thebans who, according to
Aeschines' story, were as good as broken up into villages. {326}
Instead of Euboea being handed over to you in exchange for Amphipolis,
Philip is making new bases of operations against you in Euboea itself,
and is plotting incessantly against Geraestus and Megara. Instead of
the restoration of Oropus to you, we are making an expedition under
arms to defend Drymus and the country about Panactum[n]--a step which
we never took so long as the Phocians remained unharmed. {327} Instead
of the restoration of the ancestral worship in the temple, and the
exaction of the debt due to the god, the true Amphictyons are
fugitives, who have been banished and their land laid desolate; and
Macedonians, foreigners, men who never were Amphictyons in the past,
are now forcing their way to recognition; while any one who mentions
the sacred treasures is thrown from the rocks, and our city has been
deprived of her right to precedence in consulting the oracle. {328}
Indeed, the story of all that has happened to the city sounds like a
riddle. Philip has spoken no falsehood, and has accomplished all that
he wished: you hoped for the fulfilment of your fondest prayers, and
have seen the very opposite come to pass; you suppose yourselves to be
at peace, and have suffered more terribly than if you had been at war;
while these men have received money for all this, and up to this very
day have not paid the penalty. {329} For that the situation has been
made what it is solely by bribery, and that these men have received
their price for it all, has, I feel sure, long been plain to you in
many ways; and I am afraid that, quite against my will, I may long have
been wearying you by attempting to prove with elaborate exactness what
you already know for yourselves. {330} Yet this one point I ask you
still to listen to. Is there, gentlemen of the jury, one of the
ambassadors whom Philip sent, whose statue in bronze you would erect in
the market-place? Nay, one to whom you would give maintenance in the
Town Hall, or any other of those complimentary grants with which you
honour your benefactors? I think not. And why? For you are of no
ungrateful or unfair or mean disposition. You would reply, that it is
because all that they did was done in the interest of Philip, and
nothing in your own; and the reply would be true and just. {331} Do you
imagine then that, when such are your sentiments, Philip's are not also
such? Do you imagine that he gives all these magnificent presents
because your ambassadors conducted their mission honourably and
uprightly with a view to _your_ interest? Impossible. Think of
Hegesippus, and the manner in which he and the ambassadors who
accompanied him were received by Philip. To go no further, he banished
Xenocleides, the well-known poet, by public proclamation, because he
received the ambassadors, his own fellow citizens. For so it is that he
behaves to men who honestly say what they think on your behalf: while
to those who have sold themselves he behaves as he has to these men. Do
we then need witnesses? do we need stronger proofs than these to
establish my conclusions? Will any one be able to steal these
conclusions from your minds?
{332} Now I was told a most extraordinary thing just now by some one
who accosted me in front of the Court, namely, that the defendant is
prepared to accuse Chares, and that by such methods and such arguments
as that, he hopes to deceive you. I will not lay undue stress on the
fact that Chares,[n] subjected to every form of trial, was found to
have acted on your behalf, so far as was in his power, with
faithfulness and loyalty, while his frequent shortcomings were due to
those who, for money, were cruelly injuring your cause. But I will go
much further. Let it be granted that all that the defendant will say of
Chares is true. {333} Even so it is utterly absurd that Aeschines
should accuse him. For I do not lay the blame on Aeschines for anything
that was done in the course of the war--it is the generals who have to
account for all such proceedings--nor do I hold him responsible for the
city's having made peace. So far I acquit him of everything. What then
do I allege, and at what point does my accusation begin? I accuse him
of having supported Philocrates, at the time when the city was making
peace, instead of supporting those who proposed what was for your real
good. I accuse him of taking bribes, and subsequently, on the Second
Embassy, of wasting time, and of not carrying out any of your
instructions. I accuse him of cheating the city, and ruining
everything, by the suggestion of hopes that Philip would do all that we
desired; and then I accuse him of speaking afterwards in defence of one
of whom[n] all warned him to beware, on account of the great crimes of
which he had been guilty. {334} These are my charges, and these are
what you must bear in mind. For a Peace that was honest and fair, and
men that had sold nothing and had told no falsehoods afterwards, I
would even have commended, and would have bidden you crown them. But
the injuries which some general may have done you have nothing to do
with the present examination. Where is the general who has caused the
loss of Halus? or of the Phocians? or of Doriscus? or of Cersobleptes?
or of the Sacred Mountain? or of Thermopylae? Who has secured Philip a
road to Attica that leads entirely through the country of allies and
friends? who has given Coroneia and Orchomenus and Euboea to others?
who has all but given Megara to the enemy, only recently? who has made
the Thebans powerful? {335} Not one of all these heavy losses was the
work of the generals; nor does Philip hold any of these places because
you were persuaded to concede it to him by the treaty of peace. The
losses are due to these men and to their corruption. If then he evades
these points, and tries to mislead you by speaking of every other
possible subject, this is how you must receive his attempt. 'We are not
sitting in judgement upon any general,' you must say, 'nor are you on
your trial for the things of which you speak. Do not tell us whether
some one else may not also be responsible for the ruin of the Phocians:
prove to us that no responsibility attaches to yourself. Why do you
tell us _now_ of the alleged iniquities of Demosthenes, instead of
accusing him when his report was under examination? For such an
omission alone you deserve to perish. {336} Do not speak of the beauty
of peace, nor of its advantages. No one holds you responsible for the
city's having made peace. But show that it was not a shameful and
discreditable peace; that we have not since been deceived in many ways;
that all was not lost. It is for all these things that the
responsibility has been proved to be yours. And why, even to this hour,
do you praise the man who has done us all this evil?' If you keep a
watch upon him thus, he will have nothing to say; and then he will lift
up his voice here, in spite of all his vocal exercises, to no purpose.
{337} And yet perhaps it is necessary for me to speak about his voice
also. For of this too, I am told, he is extremely proud, and expects to
carry you away by his declamation. But seeing that you used to drive
him away and hiss him out of the theatre and almost stone him, when he
was performing the tragic story of Thyestes or of the Trojan War, so
that at last he gave up his third-rate playing, you would be acting in
the most extraordinary way if, now that he has wrought countless ills,
not on the stage, but in the most important affairs in the public life
of the state, you listened to him for his fine voice. {338} By no means
must you do this, or give way to any foolish sentiment. Rather reflect,
that if you were testing the qualifications of a herald, you would then
indeed look for a fine voice; but when you are testing those of an
ambassador, or a man who claims the administration of any public
business, you must look for an upright man--a man who bears himself
proudly indeed, as your representative, but seeks no more than equality
with yourselves--as I myself refused to pay respect to Philip, but did
pay respect to the captives, whom I saved, and never for a moment drew
back; whereas Aeschines rolled at Philip's feet, and chanted his
paeans, while he looks down upon you. {339} And further, whenever you
notice that cleverness or a good voice or any other natural advantage
has been given to an honest and public-spirited man, you ought all to
congratulate him and help him to cultivate his gift; for the gift is an
advantage in which you all share, as well as he. But when the gift is
found in a corrupt and villainous man, who can never resist the chance
of gain, then you should exclude him from your presence, and give a
harsh and hostile reception to his words: for villainy, which wins from
you the reputation of ability, is the enemy of the State. {340} You see
what great troubles have fallen upon the city, through those qualities
which have brought renown to Aeschines. But whereas all other faculties
are more or less independent, the gift of eloquence, when it meets with
hostility from you who listen, is a broken thing. Listen, then, to the
defendant as you would listen to a corrupt villain, who will not speak
a single word of truth.
{341} Observe also that the conviction of the defendant is in every way
expedient, not only on all other grounds, but even when you consider
our relations with Philip himself. For if ever Philip finds himself
compelled to give the city any of her rights, he will change his
methods. As it is, he has chosen to deceive the people as a whole, and
to show his favours to a few persons; whereas, if he learns that these
men have perished, he will prefer for the future to act in the interest
of yourselves collectively, in whose hands all power rests. {342} If,
however, he intends to persist in his present domineering and
outrageous insolence, you will, by getting rid of these men, have rid
the city of those who would do anything in the world for him. For when
they have acted as they have done, with the expectation of having to
pay the penalty in their minds, what do you think they will do, if you
relax your severity towards them? Where is the Euthycrates,[n] or the
Lasthenes, or the traitor of any description, whom they will not outdo?
{343} And who among all the rest will not be a worse citizen, when he
sees that, for those who have sold themselves, the friendship of Philip
serves, in consequence, for revenue, for reputation, and for capital;
while to those who have conducted themselves uprightly, and have spent
their own money as well, the consequences are trouble, hatred, and ill
will from a certain party. Let it not be so. It is not for your
good--whether you regard your reputation or your duty towards Heaven or
your safety or any other object, that you should acquit the defendant;
but rather that you should avenge yourselves upon him, and make him an
example in the eyes of all your fellow citizens and of the whole
Hellenic world.