CHAPTER VII

THE GRECIAN ORATORS

WHAT CONSTITUTED THEIR ART

When you shall say, "As others do, so will I: I renounce, I

am sorry for it, my early visions; I must eat the good of

the land and let learning and romantic expectation go,

until a more convenient season"; then dies the man in you;

then once more perish the buds of art, and poetry, and

science, as they have died already in a thousand thousand

men. The hour of that choice is the crisis of your history,

and see that you hold yourself fast by the intellect.

--RALPH WALDO EMERSON: _Dartmouth Address_

If a man would become a truly great orator, he must put aside all

mere selfish desires and heed only the call of the best that is in

him. He must have visions, and realize them; he must act according to

his own understanding, and not become the pliant tool of another, be

that other a political boss, a political machine, or an unholy

ambition; he must be himself, and refuse to echo the thoughts of

others; and, as a foundation upon which all these virtues are to be

built, must be the one great virtue of industry.

Through all climes and in all ages men have achieved eminence as

orators by persevering efforts only, and while, at times, an orator,

full-fledged and ready for the fray, has burst into the list and

played his part upon the stage of action, such occurrences have been

so rare as to make them but examples of the exception that proves the

rule. Therefore, let him who would become proficient in the art of

speech make up his mind to labor in order to attain that proficiency.

At the same time, we should remember that this labor need not

necessarily be hard, need not be what is termed laborious, because

the main requisite is that we should not interfere with nature in her

work. It is perfectly natural for man to breathe properly, and yet

how few do so; it is natural for man to speak, and yet how few speak

properly! If we aim to remove the defects or errors that interfere

with Nature doing properly her assigned task, we need not worry but

that she will perform it. Take up the work of becoming a public

speaker because you love the art of oratory, labor at it because you

desire to accomplish it, and it will submit to you because all arts

love to be mastered.

The history of oratory is a history of the world, just as the history

of a great central character is an epitome of the history of his

time, and as it is best to study the lives of the makers of history

in order to understand the events of history, so it is best to

examine the orators in order that we may learn of oratory.

In ancient times oratory was considered the art of arts because it

embraced all other arts and was therefore the most difficult of

achievements. Positions of honor and renown were bestowed upon those

who were capable of giving fitting expression to their thoughts in

public. Poets sang the praises of orators and made them the heroes of

their songs. The psalmists and prophets are but types of the orator,

and the actor of today is the outcome of the player of old who was

more a speaker than he was an actor.

Every citizen, at one time, was his own lawyer, spoke in his own

defense, and advocated his own cause. Then came the era of the speech

writers, who prepared the matter for the citizen to deliver; and

finally, the professional advocate of today who appears in behalf of

his client and acts and speaks for him.

Let us consider the productions of the orators of that marvellous

period in the world's history which dates from 500 to 300 years

previous to the coming of Christ; and in doing so, let us not forget

that they are all translations into a foreign tongue, and that in

their transition from one language into another they have lost much

of their force and beauty. Another thing to bear in mind is that an

oration does not read as it sounds. It lacks the magnetism of the

living speaker, the presence of the assembled multitude, the concern

in the subject, and the gravity of the interest at stake, to lend a

completeness to the words and to impregnate them with the expression

that life alone possesses, turning the dead words into living

thoughts. Here, in these orations, we possess the mere

bodies--mummies, they might well be termed--the spirit having

departed ages ago; but by the influence of the imaginative mind of

the reader they may be compelled to assume some semblance of their

former greatness.

The best way of judging of the power of orators, and the influence of

oratory, is to study the effect they had on the subjects with which

they dealt, the audiences they addressed, and on posterity, which

looks with an unprejudiced eye. All great orations have not

accomplished the purposes for which they were uttered, but they have

all had a decided influence on shaping the thoughts of man and

directing his actions many years after the orators who uttered the

words have passed back in to the elements whence they came.

Demosthenes did not succeed in saving his loved Athens from the

clutches of Philip, but his burning words in behalf of liberty have

stirred the hearts of men in other lands and other ages and caused

them to battle in behalf of the principles for which the ancient

Grecian spoke; Edmund Burke and the Earl of Chatham did not succeed

in turning Lord North from his determination to subdue the colonies

of North America by force of arms, but their noble speeches inspired

their brother Whigs in America to rush to arms and sacrifice their

all in the struggle for independence; Abraham Lincoln, in his debate

with Stephen A. Douglas, did not prevail on the electorate of the

State of Illinois to return legislators who would elect him to the

United States Senate, but his clear reasoning and masterful

presentation of facts in that famous debate drew the attention of the

nation to him and contributed much toward making him President of the

United States. Oratory cannot fail in ultimately accomplishing its

object, although it may not accomplish the specific object that the

speaker had in mind at the time of uttering the oration, because

truth must always ultimately triumph, and real oratory is always

truth.

Oratory requires a large theme. Men cannot grow eloquent over a ship

subsidy; they may rhetorically wave the flag of their country and

claim the land will go to ruin unless the subsidy is granted, but

there can be no genuine enthusiasm, no eloquence, over such a cause.

When Henry Clay declared that the American flag should be honored

wherever it floated, that its folds should protect its citizens on

sea as well as on land, he had a theme of such magnitude that was

able to move his country to take up arms in defense of the doctrine

he espoused. When Lincoln started on his mission to preserve the

Union, he held a tremendous question in hand--the question whether

government by the people should pass from the earth--and this

question brought as a response the immortal Gettysburg Address.

William H. Grady, when speaking to the North on the subject of the

New South, had a theme of vast importance--the theme of a reunited

country. Theodore Roosevelt, in adopting "Conservation of Natural

Wealth" as his subject, brought to the minds of his countrymen a

truth to which they had blindly closed their eyes since the

settlement of the Western Hemisphere. These are subjects upon which,

if the man is prepared, he can grow eloquent; and as soon as the

people seriously consider questions of moment to themselves and their

posterity, men will come forward who are able to discuss such

questions with eloquence that will equal that of the past. Oratory is

not dead, nor is it sleeping; it is merely awaiting the sound of the

voice it knows to cause it to come forth. It is no use calling to it

in a foreign tongue--it must be spoken to in the voice of truth.

Right, liberty, justice, the rights of man to enjoy the blessings of

life--these are themes that will cause eloquence to become once more

the art of arts.

EXAMPLES OF GRECIAN ORATORY[1]

For the benefit of the student of oratory, specimen orations are here

given of ten of the most famous Grecian orators. Short biographical

and other notes accompany each selection, as guides to the student

regarding the careers of the orators and the circumstances under

which the orations were delivered.

ANTIPHON

Antiphon, the oldest of the ten Attic orators, and founder of Grecian

political oratory, was the first to systematize the rules and

principles for the guidance of public speakers. He was born at

Rhamnus, Attica, about 480 B.C., and, because of his activity in

establishing the oligarchy of the Four Hundred, was executed at

Athens in 411 B.C., after a change had taken place in the government.

He was noted for his readiness in debate, and gained great renown by

composing orations by which many accused of capital offenses defended

themselves.

The following oration was composed by Antiphon for a man by the name

of Helus, who was accused of having murdered Herodes, who, while on a

journey with Helus, mysteriously disappeared.

_On The Murder of Herodes._ (Helus, a Mitylenean, having

been accused of the murder of Herodes, who had mysteriously

disappeared from the boat in which the two had embarked in

company, defended himself in the following speech, composed

for him by Antiphon):

I could have wished, gentlemen, that I possessed the gift

of eloquence and legal experience proportionate to my

adversity. Adversity I have experienced in an unusual

degree, but in eloquence and legal experience I am sadly

deficient. The result is that, in circumstances where I was

compelled to suffer personal ill-usage on a false charge,

legal experience did not come to my rescue; and here, when

my salvation depends on a true statement of the facts, I

feel embarrassed by my incapacity for speaking. Many an

innocent man has been condemned because of his inability to

present clearly the truth and justice of his cause. Many a

guilty man, on the other hand, has escaped punishment

through skilful pleading. It follows, then, that if the

accused lacks experience on these matters, his fate depends

rather on the representation of his prosecutors than on the

actual facts and true version of the case.

I shall not ask you, gentlemen, to give me an impartial

hearing. And yet I am aware that such is the practice of

most men on trial, who have no faith in their own cause or

confidence in your justice. No, I make no such request,

because I know full well that, like all good men and true,

you will grant me the same hearing that you grant the

prosecution. I do ask you, however, to be indulgent if I

commit any indiscretion of speech, and to attribute it

rather to my inexperience than to the injustice of my

cause. But if my argument has any weight I pray you will

ascribe it rather to the force of truth than rhetorical art.

I have always felt that it is not just either that one who

has done wrong should be saved through eloquence, or that

one who has done no wrong should be condemned through lack

of eloquence. Unskilful speaking is but a sin of the

tongue; but wrongful acts are sins of the soul. Now it is

only natural that a man whose life is in danger should

commit some indiscretion of speech; for he must be intent

not only on what he says but on the outcome of the trial,

since all that is still uncertain is controlled rather by

chance than by providence. This fact inspires great fear in

a man whose life is at stake. In fact, I have often

observed that the most experienced orators speak with

embarrassment when their lives are in danger. But whenever

they seek to accomplish some purpose without danger they

are more successful. My request for indulgence, then

gentlemen, is both natural and lawful; and it is no less

your duty to grant it than my right to make it.

I shall now consider the case for the prosecution in

detail. And first I shall show you that I have been brought

to trial here in violation of law and justice, not on the

chance of eluding your judgment--for I would commit my life

to your decision, even if you were bound by no oath to

pronounce judgment according to law, since I am conscious

that I have done no wrong and feel assured that you will do

me justice: no, my purpose in showing you this is rather

that the lawlessness and violence of my accusers may bear

witness to you of their better feeling towards me.

First, then, though they imprisoned me as a malefactor,

they have indicted me for homicide--an outrage that no one

has ever suffered in this land. For I am not a malefactor,

or amenable to the law of malefactors, which has to do only

with thieves and highwaymen. So far, then, as they have

dealt with me by summary process, they have made it

possible for you to make my acquittal lawful and righteous.

But they argue that homicide is a species of malefaction. I

admit that it is a great crime, as great as sacrilege or

treason. But these crimes are dealt with each according to

its own particular laws. Moreover, they compel me to

undergo trial in this place of public assemblage, where all

men charged with murder are usually forbidden to appear;

and furthermore they would commute to a fine in my case the

sentence of death imposed by law on all murderers, not for

my benefit, but for their own private gain, thereby

defrauding the dead of lawful satisfaction. Their reason

for so doing you will perceive as my argument advances.

In the second place, you all know that the courts decide

murder cases in the open air, for no reason than that the

judges may not assemble in the same place with those whose

hands have been defiled with blood, and that the prosecutor

may not be sheltered beneath the same roof with the

murderer. This custom my accusers have utterly disregarded.

Nay, they have even failed to take the customary solemn

oath that, whatever other crimes I may have committed, they

will prosecute me for murder alone, and will allow no

meritorious act of mine to stand in the way of my

condemnation. Thus do they prosecute me unsworn; and even

their witnesses testify against me without having taken the

oath. And then they expect you, gentlemen, to believe these

unsworn witnesses and condemn me to death, when they have

made it impossible for you to accept such testimony by

their violation and contempt of the law.

But they contend if I had been set free I would have fled.

What motive could I have had? For, if I did not mind exile,

I might have refused to come home when summoned, and have

incurred judgment by default, or, having come, might have

left voluntarily after my first trial. For such a course is

open to all. And yet my accusers in their lawlessness seek

to deprive me alone of the common right of all Greeks.

This leads me, gentlemen, to say a word about the laws that

govern my case. And I think you will admit that they are

good and righteous, since, though very ancient, they still

remain unchanged--an unmistakable proof of excellence in

laws. For time and experience teach men what is good and

what is not good. You ought not, therefore, judge by the

arguments of my accusers whether the laws are good or bad,

but rather judge by the laws whether their claims are just

or unjust. So perfect, indeed, are the laws that relate to

homicide, that no one has ever dared to disturb them. But

these men have dared to constitute themselves lawmakers in

order to effect their wicked purposes, and disregarding

these ordinances they seek unjustly to compass my ruin.

Their lawlessness, however, will not help them, for they

well know that they have no sworn witness to testify

against me. Moreover, they did not make a single decisive

trial of the matter, as they would have done if they had

confidence in their cause. No, they left room for

controversy and argument, as if, in fact, they meant to

dispute the previous verdict. The result is that I gain

nothing by an acquittal, since it will be open to them to

say that I was acquitted as a malefactor, not as a

murderer, and catching me again they will ask to have me

sentenced to death on a charge of homicide. Wicked

schemers! Would ye have the judges set aside a verdict

obtained by fair means, and put me a second time in

jeopardy of my life for the same offense? But this is not

all. They would not even allow me to offer bail according

to law, and thus escape imprisonment, though they have

never before denied this privilege even to an alien. And

yet the officers in charge of malefactors conform to the

same custom. I, alone, then, have failed to derive

advantage from this common right conferred by law. This

wrong they have done me for two reasons: First, that they

might render me helpless to prepare for my defense; and,

second, that they might influence my friends, through

anxiety for my safety, to bear false witness against me.

Thus, would they bring disgrace upon me and mine for life.

In this trial, then, I am at a disadvantage in respect to

many points of your law and of justice. Nevertheless, I

shall try to prove my innocence. And yet I realize that it

will be difficult immediately to dissipate the false

impression which these men have long conspired to create.

For it is impossible for any man to guard against the

unexpected.

Now, the facts in the case, gentlemen, are briefly these: I

sailed from Mitylene in the same boat with Herodes, whom I

am accused of having murdered. Our destination was the

same--Aenus, but our objectives were different. I went to

visit my father, who happened to be at Aenus at that time;

Herodes went to sell some slaves to certain Thracian

merchants. Both the slaves and the merchants sailed with us.

To confirm these statements I shall now offer the testimony

of competent witnesses.

To continue, then, we were compelled by a violent storm to

put in at a port on the Methymnian coast, and there we

found the boat on which they allege I killed Herodes.

Now I would have you bear in mind that this whole affair

took place not through design on my part, but through

chance. For it was by chance that Herodes undertook the

voyage with me. It was by chance that we encountered the

storm, which compelled us to put in at the Methymnian port.

And it was by chance that we found the cabined boat in

which we sought shelter against the violence of the storm.

After we had boarded the other boat and had taken some

wine, Herodes left us, never to return. But I did not leave

the boat at all that night. On the day after Herodes

disappeared, however, I sought him as diligently as any of

our company, and felt his loss as keenly. It was I who

proposed sending a messenger to Mitylene, and when no one

else was willing to go I offered to send my own attendant.

Of course, I would not have done this if I had murdered

Herodes, for I would be sending an informant against

myself. Finally, it was only after I was satisfied by

diligent search that Herodes was nowhere to be found, that

I sailed away with the first favorable wind. Such are the

facts.

What inference can you draw from these facts other than

that I am an innocent man? Even these men did not accuse me

on the spot, while I was still in the country, although

they knew of the affair. No, the truth was too apparent at

that time. Only after I had departed, and they had had an

opportunity to conspire against me, did they bring this

indictment.

Now the prosecution have two theories of the death of

Herodes. One is that he was killed on shore, the other that

he was cast into the sea. First, then, they say that I

killed Herodes on shore, by striking him on the head with a

stone. This is impossible, since, as I have proved, I did

not leave the boat that night. Strange that they should

pretend to have accurate knowledge of the manner of his

death, and yet not be able satisfactorily to account for

the disappearance of his body. Evidently this must have

happened near the shore, for, since it was night, and

Herodes was drunk, his murderer could have had no reason to

take him far from the shore. However that may be, two days'

search failed to produce any trace of him. This drives them

to their second hypothesis--that I drowned Herodes. If that

were so, there would be some sign in the boat that the man

was murdered and cast into the sea. No such sign, however,

appears. But they say they have found signs in the boat in

which he drank the wine. And yet they admit he was not

killed in that boat. The utter absurdity of this second

view is shown by the fact that they cannot find the boat

they say I used for the purpose of drowning Herodes, or any

trace of it.

It was not till after I sailed away to Aenus, and the boat

in which Herodes and I made the voyage had returned to

Mitylene, that these men made the examination that led to

the discovery of blood. At once they concluded that I

killed Herodes on that very boat. But when they found that

this theory was inadmissible, since the blood was proved to

be that of sheep, they changed their course and sought to

obtain information by torturing the crew. The poor wretch

whom they first subjected to torture said nothing

compromising about me. But the other, whom they did not

torture till several days later, keeping him near them in

the meantime, is the one who has borne false witness

against me.

All that is possible for you to learn, gentlemen, from the

testimony of human witnesses, you have now heard. It

remains to consider the testimony of the gods, expressed by

signs. For by reliance on these heaven-sent signs you will

best secure the safety of the state both in adversity and

in prosperity. In private matters, too, you ought to attach

great weight to these signs. You all know, of course, that,

when a wicked man embarks in the same boat with a righteous

man, the gods not infrequently cause the shipwreck and

destruction of both because of the sinfulness of one alone.

Again, the righteous, by association with the wicked, have

been brought, if not to destruction, at least into the

greatest dangers that divine wrath can send. Finally, the

presence of guilty men at a sacrifice has often caused the

omens to be unfavorable. Thus do the gods testify to the

guilt and wickedness of man.

In the light of divine testimony, then, my innocence is

established. For no mariner with whom I have sailed has

ever suffered shipwreck. Nor has my presence at a sacrifice

ever caused the omens to be unfavorable.

Now, I feel sure, gentlemen, that if the prosecution could

find evidence that my presence on shipboard or at a

sacrifice had ever caused any mishap, they would insist

upon this as the clearest proof of my guilt. Since,

however, this divine testimony is adverse to their claims,

they ask you to reject it, and to have faith in their

representation. Thus do they run counter to the practice of

reasonable men. For, instead of testing words by facts,

they seek to overthrow facts by words.

Having now concluded my defense, gentlemen, against all

that I can recall of the charge against me, I look to you

for acquittal. On that depends my salvation and the

fulfilment of your oath. For you have sworn to pronounce

judgment according to law. Now, I am not liable to the laws

under which I was arrested, while as to the facts with

which I am charged I can still be brought to trial in the

legal form. And if two trials have been made out of one,

the fault is not mine, but that of my accusers. When,

however, my worst enemies give me the chance of a second

trial, surely you, the impartial awarders of justice, will

never pronounce on the present issue a premature verdict of

murder. Be not so unjust; rather leave something for that

other witness, Time, who aids the zealous seekers of

eternal truth. I should certainly desire that in cases of

homicide the sentence be in accordance with law, but that

the investigation, in every possible instance, be regulated

by justice. In this way the interests of truth and right

would best be secured. For in homicide cases an unjust

sentence banishes truth and justice beyond recall. If,

then, you condemn me, you are bound to abide by the

sentence, however guiltless I may be. No one would dare,

through confidence in his innocence, to contravene the

sentence passed upon him, nor, if conscious of guilt, would

he rebel against the law. We must yield not only to the

truth, but to a verdict against the truth, especially if

there be no one to support our cause. It is for these

reasons that the laws, the oaths, and the solemnities in

murder cases differ from those in all other cases. In this

case of cases it is of the utmost importance that the issue

be clear and the decisions correct. For, otherwise, either

the murdered will be deprived of vengeance or an innocent

man will suffer death unjustly. For their accusation is not

decisive, the result depends on you. Decide, then, justly;

for your decision, if wrong, admits of no remedy.

But how, you may ask, will you decide justly? By compelling

my accusers to take the customary solemn oath before they

put me upon my defense against an indictment for murder.

And how are you to accomplish this? By acquitting me now.

And remember that, even though you acquit me now, I shall

not escape your judgment, since in the other trial, too,

you will be my judges. By an acquittal now you make it

possible to deal with me hereafter as you will, but, if you

condemn me now, my case will not be open to

reconsideration. If, then, you must make any mistake, an

undeserved acquittal is less serious than an unjust

condemnation. For the former is a mistake only; the latter

an eternal disgrace. Take care, then, that you do no

irreparable wrong. Some of you in the past have actually

repented of condemning innocent men, but not one of you has

ever repented of making an undeserved acquittal. Moreover,

involuntary mistakes are pardonable, voluntary

unpardonable. The former we attribute to chance; the latter

to design. Of two risks, then, run the lesser; commit the

involuntary mistake; acquit me.

Now, gentlemen, if my conscience were guilty, I should

never have come into this city. But I did come--with an

abiding faith in the justice of my cause, and strong in

conscious innocence. For not once alone has a clear

conscience raised up and supported a failing body in the

hour of trial and tribulation. A guilty conscience, on the

other hand, is a source of weakness to the strongest body.

The confidence, therefore, with which I appear before you,

is the confidence of innocence.

To conclude, gentlemen, I have only to say that I am not

surprised that my accusers slander me. That is their part;

yours is not to credit their slander. If, on the other

hand, you listen to me, you can afterwards repent, if you

like, and punish me by way of remedy, but, if you listen to

my accusers, and do what they wish, no remedy will then be

admissible. Moreover, no long time will intervene before

you can decide lawfully what the prosecution now asks you

to decide unlawfully. Matters like these require not haste,

but deliberation. On the present occasion, then, take a

survey of the case; on the next, sit in judgment on the

witnesses; form, now, an opinion; later, decide the facts.

It is very easy, indeed, to testify falsely against a man

charged with murder. For, if he be immediately condemned to

death, his false accusers have nothing to fear, since all

danger of retribution is removed on the day of execution.

And, even if the friends of the condemned man cared to

exact satisfaction for malicious prosecution, of what

advantage would it be to him after his death?

Acquit me, then, on this issue, and compel my accusers to

indict me according to law. Your judgment will then be

strictly legal, and, if condemned, I cannot complain that

it was contrary to law. This request I make of you with due

regard to your conscience as well as to my own right. For

upon your oath depends my safety. By whichever of these

considerations you are influenced, you must acquit me.

PERICLES

Pericles is considered by many historians to have been the greatest

statesman and orator that Athens produced, but the truth regarding

his oratorical ability cannot be verified by his orations, because

not one of them, in its entirety, has come down to us. We are

indebted to the historian Thucydides for what speeches of Pericles we

possess, and he has this to say regarding their authenticity: "I have

found it difficult to retain a memory of the precise words that I had

heard spoken, and so it was with those who brought me report. I have

made the persons say what it seemed to me most opportune for them to

say, in light of the situation; at the same time I have adhered as

closely as possible to the general sense of what was actually said."

Pericles was born about 495 B.C., and died in 429.

_In Favor of the Peloponnesian War_ (432 B.C.). I always

adhere to the same opinion, Athenians, that we should make

no concessions to the Lacedaemonians; although I know that

men are not persuaded to go to war, and act when engaged in

it, with the same temper; but that, according to results,

they also change their views. Still I see that the same

advice, or nearly the same, must be given by me now as

before; and I claim from those of you who are being

persuaded to war, that you will support the common

resolutions, should we ever meet with any reverse; or not,

on the other hand, to lay any claim to intelligence, if

successful. For it frequently happens that the results of

measures proceed no less incomprehensively than the

counsels of man; and therefore we are accustomed to regard

fortune as the author of all things that turn out contrary

to our expectation.

Now the Lacedaemonians were both evidently plotting against

us before, and now especially are doing so. For whereas it

is expressed in the treaty, that we should give and accept

judicial decisions of our differences, and each side [in

the meantime] keep what we have; they have neither

themselves hitherto asked for such a decision, nor do they

accept it when we offer it; but wish our complaints to be

settled by war rather than by words; and are now come

dictating, and no longer expostulating. For they command us

to raise the siege of Potidaea, and to leave Aegina

independent, and to rescind the decree respecting the

Megareans; while these last envoys that have come charge us

also to leave the Greeks independent. But let none of you

think we would be going to war for a trifle, if we did not

rescind the decree respecting the Megareans, which they

principally put forward [saying] that if it were rescinded,

the war would not take place: nor leave it in your mind any

room for self-accusation hereafter, as though you had gone

to war for a trivial thing. For this trifle involves the

whole confirmation, as well as trial, of your purpose. If

you yield to these demands, you will soon also be ordered

to do something greater, as having in this instance obeyed

through fear: but by resolutely refusing you would prove

clearly to them that they must treat with you more on an

equal footing.

Henceforth then make up your minds, either to submit before

you are hurt, or, if we go to war, as I think is better,

alike to make no concession on important or trivial

grounds, nor to keep with fear what we have not acquired;

for both the greatest and the least demand from equals,

imperiously urged on their neighbors previous to a judicial

decision, amounts to the same degree of subjugation.

Now with regards to the war, and the means possessed by

both parties, that we shall not be the weaker side, be

convinced of hearing the particulars. The Peloponnesians

are men who cultivate their land themselves; and they have

no money either in private or public funds. Then they are

inexperienced in long and transmarine wars, as they only

wage them with each other for a short time, owing to their

poverty. And men of this description can neither man fleets

nor often send out land armaments; being at the same time

absent from their private business, and spending from their

own resources; and, moreover, being also shut out from the

sea: but it is superabundant revenues that support wars,

rather than compulsory contributions. And men who till the

land themselves are more ready to wage war with their

persons than with their money: feeling confident, with

regard to the former, that they will escape from dangers;

but not being sure, with regard to the latter, that they

will not spend it before they have done; especially should

the war be prolonged beyond their expectations, as [in this

case] it probably may. For in one battle the Peloponnesians

and their allies might cope with all the Greeks together;

but they could not carry on a war against resources of a

different description to their own; since they have no one

board of council, so as to execute any measure with vigor;

and all having equal votes, and not being of the same

races, each forwards his own interest; for which reasons

nothing generally is brought to completion.

Most of all will they be impeded by scarcity of money,

while, through their slowness in providing it, they

continue to delay their operations; whereas the

opportunities of war wait for no one. Neither, again, is

their raising works against us worth fearing, or their

fleet. With regard to the former, it were difficult even in

time of peace to set up a rival city; much more in a

hostile country, and when we should have raised works no

less against them: and if they build [only] a fort, they

might perhaps hurt some part of our land by incursions and

desertions; it will not, however, be possible for them to

prevent our sailing to their country and raising forts, and

retaliating with our ships, in which we are so strong. For

we have more advantage for land-service from our naval

skill, than they have for naval matters from their skill by

land.

But to become skilful at sea will not easily be acquired by

them. For not even have you, though practicing from the

very time of the Median War, brought it to perfection as

yet; how then shall men who are agriculturists and not

mariners, and, moreover, will not even be permitted to

practice, from being always observed by us with many ships,

achieve anything worth speaking of? Against a few ships

observing them they might run the risk, encouraging their

ignorance by their numbers; but when kept in check by many,

they will remain quiet; and through not practicing will be

the less skilful, and therefore the more afraid. For naval

service is a matter of art, like anything else; and does

not admit of being practiced just when it may happen, as a

bywork; but rather does not even allow of anything else

being a bywork to it.

Even if they should take some of the funds at Olympia or

Delphi, and endeavor, by higher pay, to rob us of our

foreign sailors, that would be alarming, if we were not a

match for them, by going on board ourselves and our

resident aliens; but now this is the case; and, what is

best of all, we have native steersmen, and crews at large,

more numerous and better than all the rest of Greece. And

with the danger before them, none of the foreigners would

consent to fly his country, and at the same time with less

hope of success to join them in the struggle, for the sake

of a few days' higher pay.

The circumstances of the Peloponnesians then seem, to me at

least, to be of such or nearly such a character; while ours

seem both to be free from the faults I have found in

theirs, and to have other great advantages in more than an

equal degree. Again, should they come by land against our

country, we will sail against theirs; and the loss will be

greater for even a part of the Peloponnese to be ravaged,

than for the whole of Attica. For they will not be able to

obtain any land in its stead without fighting for it; while

we have abundance, both in islands and on the mainland.

Moreover, consider it [in this point of view]: if we have

been islanders, who would have been more impregnable? And

we ought, as it is, with views as near as possible to those

of islanders, to give up all thought of our land and

houses, and keep watch over the sea and the city; and not,

though being enraged on their account, to come to an

engagement with the Peloponnesians, who are much more

numerous: (for if we defeat them, we shall have to fight

again with no fewer of them; and if we meet with a reverse,

our allies are lost also; for they will not remain quiet if

we are not able to lead our forces against them); and we

should make lamentation, not for the houses and land, but

for the lives [that are lost]; for it is not these things

that gain men, but men that gain these things. And if I

thought that I should persuade you, I would bid you go out

yourselves and ravage them, and show the Peloponnesians

that you will not submit to them for these things, at any

rate.

I have also many other grounds for hoping that we shall

conquer, if you will avoid gaining additional dominion at

the time of your being engaged in the war, and bringing on

yourselves dangers of your own choosing; for I am more

afraid of our own mistakes than of the enemy's plans. But

those points shall be explained in another speech at the

time of the events. At the present time let us send these

men away with this answer: that with regard to the

Megareans, we will also allow them to use our ports and

markets, if the Lacedaemonians also abstain from expelling

foreigners, whether ourselves or our allies (for it forbids

neither the one nor the other in the treaty): with regard

to the states, that we will leave them independent, if we

also hold them as independent when we made the treaty; and

when they, too, restore to the states a permission to be

independent suitably to the interests, not of the

Lacedaemonians themselves, but of the several states as

they wish: that we are willing to submit to judicial

decision, according to the treaty: and that we will not

commence hostilities, but will defend ourselves against

those who do. For this is both a right answer and a

becoming one for the state to give.

But you should know that go to war we must; and if we

accept it willingly rather than not, we shall find the

enemy less disposed to press us hard; and, moreover, that

it is from the greatest hazards that the greatest honours

also are gained, both by state and by individual. Our

fathers, at any rate, by withstanding the Medes--though

they did not begin with such resources [as we have], but

had even abandoned what they had and by counsel, more than

by fortune, and by daring, more than by strength, beat off

the barbarian, and advanced their resources to their

present height. And we must not fall short of them; but

must repel our enemies in every way, and endeavor to

bequeath our power to our posterity no less [than we

received it].

ANDOCIDES

Andocides, a Greek orator, diplomatist, and politician, was born at

Athens about 467 B.C., and died about 391 B.C. His speeches disclose

the possession of practical common sense rather than deep learning,

he being one who gained his proficiency of speech by practice in the

public assemblies, and not, as most of the orators of his time, in

schools of rhetoric. Few authentic speeches of his are in existence,

the one here given being his speech "On the Mysteries," which is

considered his best. He delivered it in his own defense against the

charge of having mutilated the busts of Hermes.

_Speech on the Mysteries._ The preparation and zeal of my

enemies, gentlemen, to do me harm in every way, justly or

unjustly, from the very time I arrived in this city, are by

no means unknown to you. It is therefore unnecessary for me

to speak at length on this matter. I shall make of you,

however, a request that is both just and easy for you to

grant as it is important for me to obtain. I ask you to

bear in mind that I have come here now, when there was no

necessity of my remaining in the city, and although I did

not offer bail, and was not committed to prison. I have

appeared before you simply because I have confidence in the

justice of my cause, and firmly believe that you will

decide fairly, and will rather justly acquit me in

accordance with your laws and your oaths, than suffer me to

be unjustly destroyed by my enemies.

It is only natural, gentlemen, that you should have the

same opinion of a man that he has of himself. If he is

unwilling to undergo trial and thus condemns himself, it is

only reasonable that you, too, should condemn him. But if,

confident in his innocence, he awaits your judgment, you

should be predisposed to acquit him. At least you ought not

to condemn him by a premature verdict of guilty.

My enemies are reported to have said that I would not dare

to undergo trial, but would seek safety in flight. "For

what object," they say, "can Andocides have in submitting

to trial when it is possible for him to leave the city and

have all the necessaries and convenience of life elsewhere?

In Cyprus, where he formerly lived, he has a large amount

of good land, bestowed on him as a gift. Can he, then, be

willing to put his life in jeopardy? For what purpose? Does

he not perceive the feeling of our city towards him?"

My feeling in this matter, gentlemen, is very different

from what my enemies suppose. Even though I do not, as

these men assert, share the good will of my countrymen, I

am unwilling to live elsewhere in affluence--an exile from

my native land. I should much prefer to be a citizen of

this commonwealth than of all others, however prosperous

they may now seem to be. It is with such a feeling of

patriotism that I entrust my life to your decision.

I ask you, then, gentlemen, to accord me in my defense a

preponderance of your good will, since you know that, even

if you grant both parties in the suit an impartial hearing,

I, the defendant, must necessarily be at a disadvantage.

For the prosecution, after long preparation, bring this

indictment against me without danger to themselves. But I

must make my defense in fear and trembling for my life, and

weighed down by the obloquy that has been heaped upon me.

It is, therefore, only reasonable that you should favor me

rather than the prosecution. There is a further

consideration to dispose you in my favor. Prosecutors have

frequently been found to bring charges so palpably false

that you could not but convict and punish them. Witnesses,

too, who have been instrumental in bringing about the

condemnation of innocent men, have been convicted only

after it was too late to save the guiltless victims of

their false testimony. Guided, then, and warned by the

experience of the past, you will not take for granted the

truth of what my accusers say. The magnitude of the charges

against me you can learn from the prosecution; but the

truth or falseness of that charge you cannot know until you

have heard my defense.

Now, how to begin my defense, gentlemen, perplexes me not a

little. I feel considerable doubt whether I ought first to

show you that the prosecution have brought the wrong form

of action against me; or that the decree of Isotimidas is

null and void; or that certain laws and oaths forbid this

action; or whether I ought to tell you all the facts from

beginning to end. But what most perplexes me is the fact

that you do not all perhaps regard as equally serious the

same points in the charge against me. Each one of you, I

suppose, has in mind some point about which he would like

to have me speak first. Since, however, it is impossible to

speak of all points at one and the same time, I shall set

before you all the facts in order from beginning to end,

omitting nothing. For if you get a right understanding of

the facts you will readily perceive how false a charge the

prosecution have brought against me.

I think, then, that you will feel disposed of your own

accord to pronounce a just sentence. And I am led to this

conclusion because I have observed that you always consider

it a matter of the greatest importance, both in private and

public affairs, to vote according to your oaths. It is this

very thing that holds the state together, much against the

will of those who would have it otherwise. Confiding, then,

in your sense of justice, I ask you to hear my defense with

good will, and not to act the part of adversaries in this

suit. Suspect not the truth of my statements, and ensnare

not my words. Hear me patiently to the end, and then

pronounce whatever judgment you deem best and most in

accordance with your oaths. . . .

Now with regard to the information laid on account of the

mutilation of the images, I will tell you everything from

the beginning. When, then, Teucrus came from Megara, having

obtained special permission, he gave what information he

had about the mysteries and images, and denounced eighteen

men. Of the men thus denounced, some fled, and others were

arrested and put to death on the strength of this

information. Those who fled have returned and are now here.

Many relatives of those who were put to death are likewise

present. I ask, then, any one of these, who will, to

interrupt me in the course of my argument and show, if he

can, that I was the cause of exile or death in a single

case.

After this had taken place, Pisander and Charicles, who

were members of the commission of inquiry, and had the

reputation at that time of being loyal to the people,

declared that what had been done was not the work of merely

a few men, but part of a conspiracy to overthrow the

commonwealth, and that they ought, therefore, to continue

the investigation.

The city was then in a sorry plight. When the herald made

proclamation for the Senate to enter the council chamber

and hauled down the signal, the trouble began. Then it was

that the conspirators fled from the market-place in fear of

arrest. Then, too, Diocleides, elated with hope over the

misfortunes of the city, brought an impeachment before the

Senate, declaring that he knew the men who had mutilated

the Hermae, and that they were thirty in number. He told

how he chanced to be an eye-witness of the affair. Now I

ask you, judges, to give your attention to this matter, and

recall whether I speak the truth, refreshing each other's

memories; for Diocleides spoke in your midst. To that fact

you yourselves can testify.

Diocleides, you will remember, said that he had a slave at

Laurium, and that he had occasion to go for a payment due

to him. "He rose early in the morning, mistaking the hour,

and started on his way. The moon was full. When he got near

the gateway of Dionysus, he saw several men going down from

the Odeum into the orchestra of the theater. Afraid of

them, he drew into the shade, and crouched down between the

pillar and the column with the bronze statue of the

general. He saw the men, about three hundred in number,

standing around in groups of fifteen and twenty. Most of

them he recognized in the light of the moon." Thus, in the

first place, judges, he assumed this story--a most

extraordinary one--in order, I fancy, that it might rest

with him to include in this list any Athenian he pleased,

or at pleasure to exempt him. After he had seen all this he

went, he said, to Laurium, where he learned on the

following day that the Hermae had been mutilated. He knew

at once that it was the work of the men he had seen in the

night. Returning to the city he learned that a commission

of inquiry had been appointed and that a reward of a

hundred minae had been offered for information. Seeing

Euphemus, the brother of Callias, the son of Telecles,

setting in his smithy, he brought him into the Hephaesteum

and told him how he had seen us on that night. Now, he

said, he did not desire to receive a reward from the city

rather than from us, if he could have us for friends.

Euphemus said that he did well to tell him, and asked him

to come to the house of Leogoras, that they might there

confer with Andocides and the other needful persons. He

came, he declared, on the following day, and knocked at the

door. He met my father going out, who said to him: "Are you

the visitor whom the company here expect? Well, you ought

not to reject such friends," and with these words he was

gone. In this way he sought to ruin my father, denouncing

him as a confederate. He then stated that we told him we

had decided to give him two talents instead of a hundred

minae, as offered by the state for information, and that we

pledged ourselves, in the event of our success, to make him

one of us. His reply, he said, was that he would think it

over. We then asked him, he maintained, to come to the

house of Callias, the son of Telecles, that he, too, might

be present. Thus he sought to ruin also my kinsman. He

came, he said, to the home of Callias, concluded an

agreement with us, and gave us pledges on the Acropolis,

but we failed to pay him, as agreed, the following month.

He came, therefore, he said, to give information about what

had been done. Such, judges, was his impeachment. . . .

Now, after we were all arrested and the prison doors were

shut at night, there came the mother of one man, the sister

of another, and the wife and children of another. Then they

wept and bewailed their misfortunes. And Charmides, a

cousin of my own age, who had been brought up in our home

from childhood, said to me: "Andocides, you see how great

our calamity is. Although, then, heretofore, I had no wish

to speak or to give you pain, yet I am now constrained to

do so by our present evil. For all your friends and

associates, except us, your relations, have either been put

to death of the reasons on account of which we now perish,

or have gone into exile, thereby condemning themselves. If,

then, you know anything of this matter, tell it, and save

first yourself, then your father, whom you ought to love

exceedingly, then your brother-in-law, who married your

only sister, then the rest of your numerous kinsmen and

relatives, and finally me, who never grieved you in my

whole life, but have ever been most eager to do whatever

was for your interest."

Now when Charmides had said this, judges, and each of the

others besought and supplicated me, I reflected how unhappy

I was to have fallen into such misfortune. Was I to see my

kinsman put to death unjustly and their property

confiscated, and see those who were in no sense to blame

for what had been done have their names inscribed on

columns as impious sinners against the gods? Was I further

to see three hundred Athenians perish undeservedly, the

city involved in calamity, and the citizens suspicious of

one another? Was I, I ask, to sit by idly, and see all

this, or was it my place to tell the people of Athens what

I had heard from Euphiletus himself, the man who committed

the outrage? I further reflected, judges, that of those who

had wrought the deed of shame some had been put to death on

the information of Teucrus, and others, having gone into

exile, had sentence of death passed upon them in their

absence. Four remained, who had not been informed against

by Teucrus,--Panaetius, Chaeredamus, Diacritus, and

Lysistratus. These men above all seemed likely to have been

confederates of those against whom Diocleides had informed,

since they were their intimate friends. For these men,

then, safety was never secure; but over my own relatives

hung certain destruction, unless some one told the people

of Athens the actual facts. It seemed to me, therefore,

better to deprive these four men of their country, who are

still alive and have returned to enjoy their patrimony,

than to see my own suffer an unjust death. Such were my

reflections.

If now any of you, judges, had a preconceived idea that I

have information to ruin these men and save myself--an

assertion that my enemies make in their attempt to asperse

my character--examine that idea in the light of the facts.

For I must now give a truthful account of my doings in the

presence of the very men who perpetrated the crime and then

fled. They know best whether I lie or speak the truth, and

may confute me, if they can, in the course of my speech;

for I appeal to them. But you must learn the facts. For in

this trial, judges, nothing is so important for me as that,

if acquitted, I should be acquitted with honor; and,

further, that the general public should understand my whole

conduct to have been absolutely free from baseness or

cowardice. I told what I had heard from Euphiletus through

solicitude for my friends and kinsmen, through solicitude

for the whole city, with courage and not cowardice. If,

then, this is so, I ask you to acquit me and not to think

me base.

Now consider--for a judge ought to examine the facts by a

human standard, as if the misfortune had been his own--what

would any one of you have done? If it had been a question

of death with honor or life with shame, you might condemn

my conduct as cowardice. And yet many would have chosen

life in preference to an honorable death. But here the case

was the very reverse: by keeping silent I must have

perished ignominiously in my innocence, and must also have

permitted the destruction of my father, of my

brother-in-law, of all my cousins and relations, whom I and

no one else threatened with death, by concealing the guilt

of others. The falsehoods of Diocleides had sent them to

prison; their only hope of deliverance lay in the Athenians

learning the whole truth. I was in danger, therefore, of

becoming their murderer, if I failed to tell you what I had

heard. I was also in danger of destroying three hundred

Athenians, and of involving Athens in the most serious

evils. This, then, was the prospect, if I were silent.

How different the prospect if I had made known the truth!

Then I should save myself, my father, and my kinsmen, and

should deliver the city from dangers and misfortunes.

Accordingly four men who participated in the crime were

driven into exile through me. I had nothing, however, to do

with the death or exile of the men against whom Teucrus had

laid information. Considering all this, judges, I concluded

that the least of the pressing evils was to tell the whole

truth, and, by convicting Diocleides of falsifying, to have

him punished--a man who sought to ruin us unjustly by

deceiving the city, and who, for so doing, was proclaimed a

public benefactor and received money from the state. I

therefore told the Senate that I knew the men who did the

act; that, while we were at a banquet, Euphiletus suggested

this scheme, which was not carried out then on account of

my opposition; but that later, when I had fallen from my

horse in the Cynosarges, and had broken my collar-bone and

cut my head, so that I had to be carried home on a

stretcher, Euphiletus, seeing my condition, told his

confederates that I had agreed to coöperate with them and

would mutilate the Hermes by the Phorbanteum. Thus did he

deceive them. Yet on that very account the Hermes near my

father's house, dedicated by the Aegean tribe, is, as you

all know, the only one in Athens not mutilated; for that

task, as Euphiletus told his companions, was assigned to

me. When they found this out, they were furious, because I

knew of the deed without having had a hand in it. On the

following day Meletus and Euphiletus came to me and said:

"We have done the deed, Andocides. And if you think fit to

remain silent, you will have our friendship as heretofore;

otherwise our enmity will be more effectual than any

friendship you can make by betraying us." Thereupon I told

them that I considered Euphiletus a villain, and that they

ought to feel furious, not because I knew it, but because

they had done the abominable deed. In support of this

statement I gave my own slave for the torture, to prove

that I had been ill and unable even to leave my bed; and

the Presidents received the female slaves for examination

in the house from which the conspirators set forth to begin

their work. After the Senate and the commission of inquiry

found out that everything was just as I had stated, they

summoned Diocleides. No words were wasted. He at once

admitted that he had lied, and asked to be spared on

condition of revealing the men who had put him up to it. He

said they were Alcibaides of the deme of Phegeus and

Amiantus from Aegina; both of whom fled in fear. After you

had heard this you imprisoned Diocleides and put him to

death, but delivered my relatives from destruction--all on

my account. Moreover you allowed the exiles to return; and

you yourselves were freed from great dangers and evils.

Wherefore, judges, you ought to pity me in my misfortune;

nay, you ought to hold me in honor for what I have done.

When Euphiletus proposed the most traitorous of all

compacts, I opposed him, and upbraided him as he deserved.

Yet I concealed the crime of the conspirators, even when

some were put to death and others driven into exile through

the information laid by Teucrus. Only after we were

imprisoned and on the point of being put to death through

the instrumentality of Diocleides, did I denounce the four

conspirators--Panaetius, Diacritus, Lysistratus, and

Chaeredemus. These men, I admit, were driven into exile on

my account. But my act saved my father, my brother-in-law,

three cousins, and seven other relatives, all of whom were

about to suffer an unjust death. These now behold the light

of day on my account, and they frankly admit it. Moreover,

the man who threw the whole city into confusion and

involved it in the greatest dangers has been convicted.

Finally you have been delivered from great dangers and

freed from suspicion, one against another.

Recall, now, judges, whether I speak the truth, and do

those of you who know, enlighten the rest. And do you,

clerk, call the persons themselves who were released

through me; for they know and can tell you best. This is

so, judges; as they will come up and testify as long as you

care to listen. . . .

And now, gentlemen, when you are about to pronounce final

judgment, there are certain things you should call to mind.

Remember that you now enjoy among all the Greeks the

enviable reputation of being not only brave on the field of

battle, but wise in the council chamber, since you attend

not so much to the punishment of past misdeeds as to the

future security of the State and the concord of its

citizens. Other States as well as ours have had their share

of evils. But the peaceful settlement of civil discord is

the triumph of the best and wisest peoples. Since, then,

you have the admiration of all nations, hostile as well as

friendly, take care that you do not deprive your city of

its fair fame, or create the impression that your success

is due rather to chance than deliberation.

I ask you further to have the same opinion of me that you

have of my ancestors. Give me the chance to follow their

example. They occupy a place in the memory of their

countrymen by the side of the greatest benefactors of the

State. They served their country nobly and well, chiefly

through good will to you, and with the further purpose

that, if ever they or their descendants should fall into

misfortune, they might find favor and pardon with you.

Forget them not; for once their meritorious deeds served

our city in a time of need. When our navy was annihilated

at Aegospotami, and many were bent on the destruction of

Athens, the Spartans decided to save the city through

respect for the memory of those men who had fought for the

liberty of all Greece. Since, then, our city was saved

through the merits of my ancestors; for to the deeds that

saved our city my ancestors contributed no small part.

Share with me, then, the salvation that you received from

the Greeks.

Consider, also, if you save me, what manner of citizen you

will have in me. Once rich and affluent, I have been

reduced to penury and want through no fault of mine, but

through calamities that befell our city. Since then I have

earned my livelihood in an honest way, toiling with my

hands and brain. Many friends, I have, too; among them

kings and great men of the world, whose friendship you will

share with me.

If, on the other hand, you destroy me, there will be no one

left to perpetuate our name and family. And yet the home of

Andocides and Leogoras is no disgrace to Athens. But great

will be the disgrace if I am in exile, and Cleophon, the

lyremaker, dwells in the house of my fathers--a house whose

walls are decked with trophies taken by my ancestors from

the enemies of their country.

Though my ancestors be dead, let their memory still live,

and fancy that you see their shades solemnly pleading in my

behalf. For whom else have I to plead for me? My father? He

is dead. Brothers? I have none. Children? None have yet

been born to me.

Do you, then, be to me father, brother, children. To you I

flee for refuge; you I supplicate and beseech. Turn then,

in supplication to yourselves, and grant me life and safety.

LYSIAS

Lysias, while he never attained Athenian citizenship, resided most of

his life at Athens, and took an important and intimate part in the

affairs of that city while it was a democracy. The ancient historians

place his birth at 459 B.C., and his death at 378 B.C., but modern

critics would place his birth at about 440 B.C., and his death at 380

B.C. Thirty-four orations are ascribed to Lysias, but the

authenticity of several of them is questionable. His style is simple

and clear, at the same time possessing force and vividness of

expression.

The oration here given was delivered in Athens in 403 B.C., and is

considered the best of his speeches that have come down to us.

Eratosthenes was one of the Thirty Tyrants who decreed the death of

the brother of Lysias.

_Against Eratosthenes_ (403 B.C.). It is an easy matter, O

Athenians, to begin this accusation. But to end it without

doing injustice to the cause will be attended with no small

difficulty. For the crimes of Eratosthenes are not only too

atrocious to describe, but too many to enumerate. No

exaggeration can exceed, and within the time assigned for

this discourse it is impossible fully to represent them.

This trial, too, is attended with another singularity. In

other causes it is usual to ask the accusers: "What is your

resentment against the defendants?" But here you must ask

the defendant: "What was your resentment against your

country? What malice did you bear your fellow citizens? Why

did you rage with unbridled fury against the state itself?"

The time has now indeed come, Athenians, when, insensible

to pity and tenderness, you must be armed with just

severity against Eratosthenes and his associates. What

avails it to have conquered them in the field, if you be

overcome by them in your councils? Do not show them more

favor for what they boast they will perform, than

resentment for what they have already committed. Nor, after

having been at so much pains to become masters of their

persons, allow them to escape without suffering that

punishment which you once sought to inflict; but prove

yourselves worthy of that good fortune which has given you

power over your enemies.

The contest is very unequal between Eratosthenes and you.

Formerly he was both judge and accuser; but we, even while

we accuse, must at the same time make our defense. Those

who were innocent he put to death without trial. To those

who are guilty we allow the benefit of law, even though no

adequate punishment can ever be inflicted. For should we

sacrifice them and their children, would this compensate

for the murder of your fathers, your sons, and your

brothers? Should we deprive them of their property, would

this indemnify the individuals whom they have beggared, or

the State which they have plundered? Though they can not

suffer a punishment adequate to their demerit, they ought

not, surely, on this account, to escape. Yet how matchless

is the effrontery of Eratosthenes, who, being now judged by

the very persons whom he formerly injured, still ventures

to make his defense before the witnesses of his crimes.

What can show more evidently the contempt in which he holds

you, or the confidence which he reposes in others?

Let me now conclude with laying before you the miseries to

which you were reduced, that you may see the necessity of

taking punishment on the authors of them. And first, you

who remained in the city, consider the severity of their

government. You were reduced to such a situation as to be

forced to carry on a war, in which, if you were conquered,

you partook indeed of the same liberty with the conquerors;

but if you proved victorious, you remained under the

slavery of your magistrates. As to you of the Piraeus, you

will remember that though you never lost your arms in the

battles which you fought, yet you suffered by these men

what your foreign enemies could never accomplish, and at

home, in times of peace, were disarmed by your fellow

citizens. By them you were banished from the country left

you by your fathers. Their rage, knowing no abatement,

pursued you abroad, and drove you from one territory to

another. Recall the cruel indignities which you suffered;

how you were dragged from the tribunal and the altars; how

no place, however sacred, could shelter you against their

violence. Others, torn from their wives, their children,

their parents, after putting an end to their miserable

lives, were deprived of funeral rites; for these tyrants

imagined their government so firmly established that even

the vengeance of the gods was unable to shake it.

But it is impossible for one, or in the course of one

trial, to enumerate the means which were employed to

undermine the power of this state, the arsenals which were

demolished, the temples sold or profaned, the citizens

banished or murdered, and those whose dead bodies were

impiously left uninterred. Those citizens now watch your

decree, uncertain whether you will prove accomplices of

their death or avengers of their murder. I shall desist

from any further accusations. You have heard, you have

seen, you have experienced. Decide then!

ISOCRATES

Isocrates, one of the greatest of the great men who lived between 500

and 300 B.C., and made Greece famous for literary and oratorical

preëminence, owes his renown not to his ability as a deliverer of

speeches, but as a constructor of them, and as a teacher of rhetoric

and oratory. He understood the principles of vocal expression

perfectly, but he was of a retiring nature and lacked volume of

voice, the latter being a particularly serious drawback because of

the necessity of speaking in the open before vast concourses of

people. He withdrew from active participation in the public life of

Athens, and opened a school in that city for the training of orators.

Isaeus, the teacher of Demosthenes, was one of his pupils. Isocrates

was born in 436 B.C., and died at the age of ninety-eight.

_Encomium on Evagoras._ When I saw, O Nicocles, that you

were honoring the tomb of your father, not only with

numerous and magnificent offerings, according to custom,

but also with dances, musical exhibitions, and athletic

contests, as well as with horse races and trireme races, on

a scale that left no possibility of their being surpassed,

I thought that Evagoras, if the dead have any feeling of

what happens on earth, while accepting this offering

favorably, and beholding with joy your filial regard for

him and your magnificence, would feel far greater gratitude

to any one who could show himself capable of worthily

describing his mode of life and the dangers he had

undergone than to any one else; for we shall find that

ambitious and high-souled men not only prefer praise to

such honors, but choose a glorious death in preference to

life, and are more jealous of their reputation than of

their existence, shrinking from nothing in order to leave

behind a remembrance of themselves that shall never die.

Now, expensive displays produce none of these results, but

are merely an indication of wealth; those who are engaged

in liberal pursuits and other branches of rivalry, by

displaying, some their strength, and others their skill,

increase their reputation; but a discourse that could

worthily describe the acts of Evagoras would cause his

noble qualities to be ever remembered amongst all mankind.

Other writers ought accordingly to have praised those who

showed themselves distinguished in their own days, in order

that both those who are able to embellish the deeds of

others by their eloquence, speaking in the presence of

those who were acquainted with the facts, might have

adhered to the truth concerning them, and that the younger

generation might be more eagerly disposed to virtue,

feeling convinced that they will be more highly praised

than those to whom they show themselves superior.

At the present time, who could help being disheartened at

seeing those who lived in the times of the Trojan wars, and

even earlier, celebrated in songs and tragedies, when he

knows beforehand that he himself, even if he surpass their

noble deeds, will never be deemed worthy of such eulogies?

The cause of this is jealousy, the only good of which is

that it is the greatest curse to those who are actuated by

it. For some men are naturally so peevish that they would

rather hear men praised, as to whom they do not feel sure

that they ever existed, than those at whose hands they

themselves have received benefits.

Men of sense ought not to be the slaves of the folly of

such men, but, while despising them, they ought at the same

time to accustom others to listen to matters which ought to

be spoken of, especially since we know that the arts and

everything else are advanced, not by those who abide by

established customs, but by those who correct and, from

time to time, venture to alter anything that is

unsatisfactory.

I know that the task I am proposing to myself is a

difficult one--to eulogize the good qualities of a man in

prose. A most convincing proof of this is that, while those

who are engaged in the study of philosophy are ever ready

to speak about many other subjects of various kinds, none

of them has ever yet attempted to compose a treatise on a

subject like this.

When a boy, he was distinguished for beauty, strength, and

modesty, the most becoming qualities at such an age. In

proof of which witnesses could be produced: of his modesty,

those of the citizens who were brought up with him; of his

beauty, all who saw him; of his strength, the contests in

which he surpassed his compeers.

When he grew to man's estate, all these qualities were

proportionately enhanced, and in addition to them he

acquired courage, wisdom, and uprightness, and these in no

small measure, as is the case with some others, but each of

them in the highest degree.

For he was so distinguished for his bodily and mental

excellence, that, whenever any of the reigning princes of

the time saw him, they were amazed and became alarmed for

their rule, thinking it impossible that a man of such

talents would continue to live in the position of a private

individual, and whenever they considered his character they

felt such confidence in him, that they were convinced that

he would assist them if any one ventured to attack them.

In spite of such changes of opinion concerning him, they

were in neither case mistaken; for he neither remained a

private individual, nor, on the other hand, did them

injury, but the Deity watched over him so carefully in

order that he might gain the kingdom honorably, that

everything which could not be done without involving

impiety was carried out by another's hands, while all the

means by which it was possible to acquire the kingdom

without impiety or injustice he reserved for Evagoras. For

one of the nobles plotted against and slew the tyrant, and

afterwards attempted to seize Evagoras, feeling convinced

that he would not be able to secure his authority unless he

got him out of the way.

Evagoras, however, escaped this peril and, having got safe

to Soli in Cilicia, did not show the same feeling as those

who are overtaken by like misfortunes. Others, even those

who have been driven from sovereign power, have their

spirits broken by the weight of their misfortunes; but

Evagoras rose to such greatness of soul, that, although he

had all along lived as a private individual, at the moment

when he was compelled to flee, he felt that he was destined

to rule.

Despising vagabond exiles, unwilling to attempt to secure

his return by means of strangers, and to be under the

necessity of courting those inferior to himself, he seized

this opportunity, as befits all who desire to act in a

spirit of piety and to act in self-defense rather than to

be the first to inflict an injury, and made up his mind

either to succeed in acquiring the kingdom or to die in the

attempt if he failed. Accordingly, having got together

fifty men (on the highest estimate), he made preparations

to return to his country in company with them.

From this it would be easy to recognize his natural force

of character and the reputation he enjoyed amongst others;

for, when he was on the point of setting sail with so small

a force on so vast an undertaking, and when all kinds of

perils stared him in the face, he did not lose heart

himself, nor did any of those whom he had invited to assist

him think fit to shrink from dangers, but, as if they were

following a god, all stood by their promises, while he

showed himself as confident as if he had a stronger force

at his command than his adversaries, or knew the result

beforehand.

This is evident from what he did; for, after he had landed

on the island, he did not think it necessary to occupy any

strong position, and, after providing for the safety of his

person, to wait and see whether any of the citizens would

come to his assistance; but, without delay, just as he was,

on that eventful night he broke open a gate in the wall,

and leading his companions through the gap, attacked the

royal residence.

There is no need to waste time in telling of the confusion

that ensues at such moments, the terror of the assaulted,

and his exhortations to his comrades; but, when the

supporters of the tyrant resisted him, while the rest of

the citizens looked on and kept quiet, fearing, on the one

hand, the authority of their rule, and, on the other, the

valor of Evagoras; he did not abandon the conflict,

engaging either in single combat against numbers, or with

few supporters against the whole of the enemy's forces,

until he had captured the palace, punished his enemies,

succored his friends, and finally recovered for his family

its ancestral honors, and made himself ruler of the city.

I think, even if I were to mention nothing else, but were

to break off my discourse at this point, it would be easy

to appreciate the valor of Evagoras and the greatness of

his achievements; however, I hope that I shall be able to

present both even more clearly in what I am going to say.

For while, in all ages, wo many have acquired sovereign

power, no one will be shown to have gained this high

position more honorably than Evagoras. If we were to

compare the deeds of Evagoras with those of each of his

predecessors individually, such details would perhaps be

unsuitable to the occasion, while time would be

insufficient for their recital; but if, selecting the most

famous of these men, we examine them in the light of his

actions, we shall be able to investigate the matter equally

well, and at the same time to discuss it more briefly.

Who would not prefer the perils of Evagoras to the lot of

those who inherited kingdoms from their fathers? For no one

is so indifferent to fame that he would choose to receive

such power from his ancestors rather than to acquire it, as

he did, and to bequeath it to his children. Further,

amongst the returns of princes to their thrones that took

place in old times, those are most famous which we hear of

from the poets; for they not only inform us of the most

renowned of all that have taken place, but add new ones out

of their own imaginations. None of them, however, has

invented the story of a prince who, after having undergone

such fearful and terrible dangers, has returned to his own

country; but most of them are represented as having

regained possession of their kingdoms by chance, others as

having overcome their enemies by perfidy and intrigue.

Amongst those who lived afterwards (and perhaps more than

all) Cyrus, who deprived the Medes of their rule and

acquired it for the Persians, is the object of most general

admiration. But, whereas, Cyrus conquered the army of the

Medes with that of the Persians, an achievement which many

(whether Hellenes or barbarians) could easily accomplish,

Evagoras undoubtedly carried out the greater part of what

has been mentioned by his own unaided energy and valor.

In the next place, it is not yet certain, from the

expedition of Cyrus, that he would have faced the perils of

Evagoras, while it is obvious, from the achievements of the

latter, that he would readily have attempted the same

undertakings as Cyrus. Further, while Evagoras acted in

everything in accordance with rectitude and justice,

several of the acts of Cyrus were not in accordance with

religion; for the former merely destroyed his enemies, the

latter slew his mother's father. Wherefore, if any were

content to judge, not the greatness of events, but the good

qualities of each, they would rightly praise Evagoras more

than Cyrus.

But--if I am to speak briefly and without reserve, without

fear of jealousy, and with the utmost frankness--no one,

whether mortal, demigod, or immortal, will be found to have

acquired his kingdom more honorably, more gloriously, or

more piously than he did. One would feel still more

confident of this if, disbelieving what I have said, he

were to attempt to investigate how each obtained supreme

power. For it will be manifest that I am not in any way

desirous of exaggerating, but that I have spoken with such

assurance concerning him because the facts which I state

are true.

Even if he had gained distinction only for unimportant

enterprises, it were fitting that he should be considered

worthy of praise in proportion; but, as it is, all would

allow that supreme power is the greatest, the most august,

and most coveted of all blessings, human and divine. Who

then, whether poet, orator, or inventor of words, could

extol in a manner worthy of his achievements one who has

gained the most glorious prize that exists by most glorious

deeds?

However, while superior in these respects, he will not be

found to have been inferior in others, but, in the first

place, although naturally gifted with most admirable

judgment, and able to carry out his undertakings most

successfully, he did not think it right to act carelessly

or on the spur of the moment in the conduct of affairs, but

occupied most of his time in acquiring information, in

reflection, and deliberation, thinking that, if he

thoroughly developed his intellect, his rule would be in

like manner glorious, and looking with surprise upon those

who, while exercising care in everything else for the sake

of the mind, took no thought for the intelligence itself.

In the next place, his opinion of events was consistent;

for, since he saw that those who look best after realities

suffer the least annoyance, and that true recreation

consists not in idleness, but in success that is due to

continuous toil, he left nothing unexamined, but had such

thorough acquaintance with the condition of affairs, and

the character of each of the citizens, that neither did

those who plotted against him take him unawares, nor were

the respectable citizens unknown to him, but all were

treated as they deserved; for he neither punished nor

rewarded them in accordance with what he heard from others,

but formed his judgment of them from his own personal

knowledge.

But, while he busied himself in the care of such matters,

he never made a single mistake in regard to any of the

events of everyday life, but carried on the administration

of the city in such a spirit of piety and humanity that

those who visited the island envied the power of Evagoras

less than those who were subject to his rule; for he

consistently avoided treating any one with injustice, but

honored the virtuous, and, while ruling all vigorously,

punished the wrongdoers in strict accordance with justice;

having no need of counsellors, but, nevertheless,

consulting his friends; often making concessions to his

intimates, but in everything showing himself superior to

his enemies; preserving his dignity, not by knitted brows,

but by his manner of life; not behaving irregularly or

capriciously in anything, but preserving consistency in

word as well as in deed; priding himself, not on the

successes that were due to chance, but those due to his own

efforts; bringing his friends under his influence by

kindness, and subduing the rest by his greatness of soul;

terrible, not by the number of his punishments, but by the

superiority of his intellect over that of the rest;

controlling his pleasures, but not led by them; gaining

much leisure by little labor, but never neglecting

important business for the sake of short-lived ease; and,

in general, omitting none of the fitting attributes of

kings, he selected the best from each form of political

activity; a popular champion by reason of his care for the

interests of the people, an able administrator in his

management of the state generally, a thorough general in

his resourcefulness in the face of danger, and a thorough

monarch from his pre-eminence in all these qualities. That

such were his attributes, and even more than these, it is

easy to learn from his acts themselves.

HYPERIDES

Hyperides, born in 396 B.C., and died in 322 B.C., was a pupil in

philosophy of Plato, and studied oratory under Isocrates. He was at

one time a close associate and follower of Demosthenes, but later

disagreed with him on matters pertaining to the state, and took part

in the prosecution that finally drove Demosthenes into exile.

Hyperides was famed for the charm of his delivery, being esteemed by

many equal to Demosthenes in this respect, and for the brilliancy and

quickness of his wit.

_Speech Against Athenogenes._ [Hyperides' client, whose

name does not appear, desired to obtain a boy slave, who,

with his father and brother, was the property of

Athenogenes. The plaintiff proposed to purchase the liberty

of the boy in question, while Athenogenes, aided by

Antigona, lured the purchaser, by false representations,

into buying all three slaves with their liabilities, which

he pretended were but trifling. After the bargain was

completed the plaintiff found that the slaves had brought

him debts enough to compass his ruin; he therefore brought

suit against Athenogenes and engaged Hyperides as counsel.

The following speech, of which some fragments are missing,

presents a satisfactory example of the orator's style. The

opening sentences are lost. What is here given is but an

extract from the speech]:

Gentlemen, you have heard the whole story in all its

details. Possibly, however, Athenogenes will plead, when

his turn comes, that the law declares all agreements

between man and man to be binding. Just agreements, my dear

sir. Unjust ones, on the contrary, it declares shall not be

binding. I will make this clearer to you from the actual

words of the laws. You need not be surprised at my

acquaintance with them. You have brought me to such a pass

and have filled me with such a fear of being ruined by you

and your cleverness that I made it my first and main duty

to search and study the laws night and day.

Now one law forbids falsehood in the market-place, and a

very excellent injunction it is, in my opinion; yet you

have, in open market, concluded a contract with me to my

detriment by means of falsehoods. For if you can show that

you told me beforehand of all the loans and debts, or that

you mentioned in the contract the full amount of them, as I

have since found it to be, I will abandon the prosecution

and confess that I have done you an injustice.

There is, however, also a second law bearing on this point,

which relates to bargains between individuals by verbal

agreements. It provides that "when a party sells a slave he

shall declare beforehand if he has any blemish; if he omit

to do so, he shall be compelled to make restitution." If,

then, the vendor of a slave can be compelled to make

restitution because he has omitted to mention some chance

infirmity, is it possible that you should be free to refuse

responsibility for the fraudulent bargain which you have

deliberately devised? Moreover, an epileptic slave does not

involve in ruin all the rest of his owner's property,

whereas Midas, whom you sold to me, has ruined, not me

alone, but even my friends as well.

And now, Athenogenes, proceed to consider how the law

stands, not only with respect to slaves, but also

concerning free men. Even you, I suppose, know that

children born of a lawfully betrothed wife are legitimate.

The lawgiver, however, was not content with merely

providing that a wife should be betrothed by her father or

brother, in order to establish legitimacy. On the contrary,

he expressly enacts that "if a man shall give a woman in

betrothal justly and equitably, the children born of such

marriage shall be legitimate," but not if he betroths her

on false representations and inequitable terms. Thus the

law makes just betrothals valid, and unjust ones it

declares invalid.

Again, the law relating to testaments is of a similar

nature. It enacts that a man may dispose of his own

property as he pleases, "provided that he be not

disqualified by old age or disease or insanity, or by

influenced by a woman's persuasions, and that he be not in

bonds or under any other constraint." In circumstances,

then, in which marriages and testaments relating solely to

a man's own property are invalidated, how can it be right

to maintain the validity of such an agreement as I have

described, which was drawn up by Athenogenes in order to

steal property belonging to me?

Can it be right that the disposition of one's property by

will should be nullified if it is made under the

persuasions of a woman, while, if I am persuaded by

Athenogenes' mistress and am entrapped by them into making

this agreement, I am thereby to be ruined, in spite of the

express support which is given me by the law? Can you

actually dare to rest your case on the contract of which

you and your mistress procured the signature by fraud,

which is also the very ground on which I am now charging

you with conspiracy, since my belief in your good faith

induced me to accept the conditions which you proposed? You

are not content with having got the forty minas which I

paid for the slaves, but you must needs plunder me of five

talents in addition, plucking me like a bird taken in a

snare. To this end you have the face to say that you could

not inform me of the amount of the debts which Midas had

contracted, because you had not the time to ascertain it.

Why, gentlemen, I, who brought absolute inexperience into

the arrangement of commercial matters, had not the

slightest difficulty in learning the whole amount of the

debts and the loans within three months; but he, with an

hereditary experience of three generations in the business

of perfumery; he, who was at his place in the market every

day of this life; he, who owned three shops and had his

accounts made up every month, he, forsooth, was not aware

of the debts! He is no fool in other matters, but in his

dealings with his slave it appears he at once became a mere

idiot, knowing of some of the debts, while others, he says,

he did not know of--those, I take it, which he did not want

to know of. Such a contention, gentlemen, is not a defense,

but an admission that he has no sound defense to offer. If

he states that he was not aware of the debts, it is plain

that he cannot at the same time plead that he told me all

about them; and it is palpably unjust to require me to

discharge debts of the existence of which the vendor never

informed me.

Well, then, Athenogenes, I think it is tolerably plain on

many grounds, that you knew of Midas' debts, and not the

least from that fact that you demanded. . . .[2]

If, however, you did not inform me of the total amount of

the debts simply because you did not know it yourself, and

I entered into the contract under the belief that what I

had heard from you was the full sum of them, which of us

ought in fairness to be liable for them--I, who purchased

the property after their contraction, or you who originally

received the sums borrowed? In my opinion it should be you;

but if we differ on this point let the law be our arbiter.

The law was not made either by infatuated lovers or by men

engaged in conspiracy against their neighbor's property,

but by the most public-spirited of statesmen, Solon. Solon,

knowing that sales of property are common in the city,

enacted a law--and one universally admitted to be just--to

the effect that fines and expenditures incurred by slaves

should be discharged by the master for whom they work. And

this is only reasonable; for if a slave effect a good

stroke of business or establish a flourishing industry, it

is his master who reaps the profit of it. You, however,

pass over the law in silence, and are eloquent about the

iniquity of breaking contracts. Whereas Solon held that a

law was more valid than a temporary ordinance, however just

that ordinance might be, you demand that a fraudulent

contract should outweigh all laws and all justice alike.

I am told, however, that the defendant has another plea in

reserve, and will argue that I brought all this mischief on

my own head by disregarding his advice. He will declare

that he offered to let me take the two boys, but that he

urged me to leave Midas to him and not to buy him. I,

however, he says, refused and insisted on buying all three.

And this, they say, he intends to plead before a court such

as the present! His object, of course, is to assume the

appearance of fair dealing, but he must have forgotten that

he will not be addressing an audience of fools, but one

quite capable of seeing through his shameless effrontery.

Let me tell you the actual facts, and you will see that

they are of a piece with the rest of the conduct of himself

and his confederate. He sent the boy, whom I mentioned just

now, to me, to say that he could not be mine unless I

bought his father and his brother as well as himself. I had

actually assented to this and promised to pay the price for

all three of them, when Athenogenes, thinking that he now

had the upper hand and wishing me to have as much trouble

as possible, came to some of my friends. . . .[3]

Now I am no professional perfume-seller, neither have I

learned any other trade. I simply till the land which my

father gave me. It was solely by this man's craft that I

was entrapped into the sale. Which is more probable on the

face of things, Athenogenes, that I was coveting your

business (a business of which I had no sort of experience),

or that you and your mistress were plotting to get my

money? I certainly think the design was on your

side. . . .[4]

Further, at the time of the war against Philip he left the

city shortly before the battle, and instead of marching out

with us to Chaeronea he migrated to Troezen. By so doing he

broke the law which enacts that if a man migrates from the

city during time of war he shall be liable to impeachment

and summary arrest whenever he returns. His action shows

that he had made up his mind that the city would escape

peril, while he laid ours under sentence of death; and he

corroborated this by not marrying his daughters here in

Athens, but giving them to husbands in Troezen. . . .[5]