PHOCION

Demades, the orator, when in the height of the power which he

obtained at Athens by advising the state in the interest of

Antipater and the Macedonians, being necessitated to write and

speak many things below the dignity, and contrary to the

character, of the city, was wont to excuse himself by saying he

steered only the shipwrecks of the commonwealth. This hardy

saying of his might have some appearance of truth, if applied to

Phocion's government. For Demades indeed was himself the mere

wreck of his country, living and ruling so dissolutely, that

Antipater took occasion to say of him, when he was now grown old,

that he was like a sacrificed beast, all consumed except the

tongue and the belly. But Phocion's was a real virtue, only

overmatched in the unequal contest with an adverse time, and

rendered by the ill fortunes of Greece inglorious and obscure. We

must not, indeed, allow ourselves to concur with Sophocles in so

far diminishing the force of virtue as to say that,

When fortune fails, the sense we had before

Deserts us also, and is ours no more.

Yet thus much, indeed, must be allowed to happen in the conflicts

between good men and ill fortune, that instead of due returns of

honor and gratitude, obloquy and unjust surmises may often

prevail, to weaken, in a considerable degree, the credit of their

virtue.

It is commonly said that public bodies are most insulting and

contumelious to a good man, when they are puffed up with

prosperity and success. But the contrary often happens;

afflictions and public calamities naturally embittering and

souring the minds and tempers of men, and disposing them to such

peevishness and irritability, that hardly any word or sentiment of

common vigor can be addressed to them, but they will be apt to

take offense. He that remonstrates with them on their errors, is

presumed to be insulting over their misfortunes, and any free

spoken expostulation is construed into contempt. Honey itself is

searching in sore and ulcerated parts; and the wisest and most

judicious counsels prove provoking to distempered minds, unless

offered with those soothing and compliant approaches which made

the poet, for instance, characterize agreeable things in general,

by a word expressive of a grateful and easy touch, exciting

nothing of offense or resistance. Inflamed eyes require a retreat

into dusky places, amongst colors of the deepest shades, and are

unable to endure the brilliancy of light. So fares it in the body

politic, in times of distress and humiliation; a certain

sensitiveness and soreness of humor prevail, with a weak

incapacity of enduring any free and open advice, even when the

necessity of affairs most requires such plain-dealing, and when

the consequences of any single error may be beyond retrieving. At

such times the conduct of public affairs is on all hands most

hazardous. Those who humor the people are swallowed up in the

common ruin; those who endeavor to lead them aright, perish the

first in their attempt.

Astronomers tell us, the sun's motion is neither exactly parallel

with that of the heavens in general, nor yet directly and

diametrically opposite, but describing an oblique line, with

insensible declination he steers his course in such a gentle, easy

curve, as to dispense his light and influence, in his annual

revolution, at several seasons, in just proportions to the whole

creation. So it happens in political affairs; if the motions of

rulers be constantly opposite and cross to the tempers and

inclination of the people, they will be resented as arbitrary and

harsh; as, on the other side, too much deference, or

encouragement, as too often it has been, to popular faults and

errors, is full of danger and ruinous consequences. But where

concession is the response to willing obedience, and a statesman

gratifies his people, that he may the more imperatively recall

them to a sense of the common interest, then, indeed, human

beings, who are ready enough to serve well and submit to much, if

they are not always ordered about and roughly handled, like

slaves, may be said to be guided and governed upon the method that

leads to safety. Though it must be confessed, it is a nice point

and extremely difficult, so to temper this lenity as to preserve

the authority of the government. But if such a blessed mixture

and temperament may be obtained, it seems to be of all concords

and harmonies the most concordant and most harmonious. For thus

we are taught even God governs the world, not by irresistible

force, but persuasive argument and reason, controlling it into

compliance with his eternal purposes.

Cato the younger is a similar instance. His manners were little

agreeable or acceptable to the people, and he received very

slender marks of their favor; witness his repulse when he sued for

the consulship, which he lost, as Cicero says, for acting rather

like a citizen in Plato's commonwealth, than among the dregs of

Romulus's posterity, the same thing happening to him, in my

opinion, as we observe in fruits ripe before their season, which

we rather take pleasure in looking at and admiring, than actually

use; so much was his old-fashioned virtue out of the present mode,

among the depraved customs which time and luxury had introduced,

that it appeared indeed remarkable and wonderful, but was too

great and too good to suit the present exigencies, being so out of

all proportion to the times. Yet his circumstances were not

altogether like Phocion's, who came to the helm when the ship of

the state was just upon sinking. Cato's time was, indeed, stormy

and tempestuous, yet so as he was able to assist in managing the

sails, and lend his helping hand to those who, which he was not

allowed to do, commanded at the helm. Others were to blame for

the result; yet his courage and virtue made it in spite of all a

hard task for fortune to ruin the commonwealth, and it was only

with long time and effort and by slow degrees, when he himself had

all but succeeded in averting it, that the catastrophe was at last

effected.

Phocion and he may be well compared together, not for any mere

general resemblances, as though we should say, both were good men

and great statesmen. For assuredly there is difference enough among

virtues of the same denomination, as between the bravery of

Alcibiades and that of Epaminondas, the prudence of Themistocles

and that of Aristides, the justice of Numa and that of Agesilaus.

But these men's virtues, even looking to the most minute points of

difference, bear the same color, stamp, and character impressed

upon them, so as not to be distinguishable. The mixture is still

made in the same exact proportions, whether we look at the

combination to be found in them both of lenity on the one hand,

with austerity on the other; their boldness upon some occasions,

and caution on others; their extreme solicitude for the public,

and perfect neglect of themselves; their fixed and immovable bent

to all virtuous and honest actions, accompanied with an extreme

tenderness and scrupulosity as to doing anything which might

appear mean or unworthy; so that we should need a very nice and

subtle logic of discrimination to detect and establish the

distinctions between them.

As to Cato's extraction, it is confessed by all to have been

illustrious, as will be said hereafter, nor was Phocion's, I feel

assured, obscure or ignoble. For had he been the son of a turner,

as Idomeneus reports, it had certainly not been forgotten to his

disparagement by Glaucippus, the son of Hyperides, when heaping up

a thousand spiteful things to say against him. Nor, indeed, had

it been possible for him, in such circumstances, to have had such

a liberal breeding and education in his youth, as to be first

Plato's, and afterwards Xenocrates's scholar in the Academy, and

to have devoted himself from the first to the pursuit of the

noblest studies and practices. His countenance was so composed,

that scarcely was he ever seen by any Athenian either laughing, or

in tears. He was rarely known, so Duris has recorded, to appear

in the public baths, or was observed with his hand exposed outside

his cloak, when he wore one. Abroad, and in the camp, he was so

hardy in going always thin clad and barefoot, except in a time of

excessive and intolerable cold, that the soldiers used to say in

merriment, that it was like to be a hard winter when Phocion wore

his coat.

Although he was most gentle and humane in his disposition, his

aspect was stern and forbidding, so that he was seldom accosted

alone by any who were not intimate with him. When Chares once

made some remark on his frowning looks, and the Athenians laughed

at the jest. "My sullenness," said Phocion, "never yet made any

of you sad, but these men's jollities have given you sorrow

enough." In like manner Phocion's language, also, was full of

instruction, abounding in happy maxims and wise thoughts, but

admitted no embellishment to its austere and commanding brevity.

Zeno said a philosopher should never speak till his words had been

steeped in meaning; and such, it may be said, were Phocion's,

crowding the greatest amount of significance into the smallest

allowance of space. And to this, probably, Polyeuctus, the

Sphettian, referred, when he said that Demosthenes was, indeed,

the best orator of his time, but Phocion the most powerful

speaker. His oratory, like small coin of great value, was to be

estimated, not by its bulk, but its intrinsic worth. He was once

observed, it is said, when the theater was filling with the

audience, to walk musing alone behind the scenes, which one of his

friends taking notice of, said, "Phocion, you seem to be

thoughtful." "Yes," replied he, "I am considering how I may

shorten what I am going to say to the Athenians." Even

Demosthenes himself, who used to despise the rest of the

haranguers, when Phocion stood up, was wont to say quietly to

those about him, "Here is the pruning-knife of my periods." This

however, might refer, perhaps, not so much to his eloquence, as to

the influence of his character, since not only a word, but even a

nod from a person who is esteemed, is of more force than a

thousand arguments or studied sentences from others.

In his youth he followed Chabrias, the general, from whom he

gained many lessons in military knowledge, and in return did

something to correct his unequal and capricious humor. For

whereas at other times Chabrias was heavy and phlegmatic, in the

heat of battle he used to be so fired and transported, that he

threw himself headlong into danger beyond the forwardest, which,

indeed, in the end, cost him his life in the island of Chios, he

having pressed his own ship foremost to force a landing. But

Phocion, being a man of temper as well as courage, had the

dexterity at some times to rouse the general, when in his

procrastinating mood, to action, and at others to moderate and

cool the impetuousness of his unseasonable fury. Upon which

account Chabrias, who was a good-natured, kindly-tempered man,

loved him much, and procured him commands and opportunities for

action, giving him means to make himself known in Greece, and

using his assistance in all his affairs of moment. Particularly

the sea-fight at Naxos added not a little to Phocion's reputation,

when he had the left squadron committed to him by Chabrias, as in

this quarter the battle was sharply contested, and was decided by

a speedy victory. And this being the first prosperous sea-battle

the city had engaged in with its own force since its captivity,

Chabrias won great popularity by it, and Phocion, also, got the

reputation of a good commander. The victory was gained at the

time of the Great Mysteries, and Chabrias used to keep the

commemoration of it, by distributing wine among the Athenians,

yearly, on the sixteenth day of Boedromion.

After this, Chabrias sent Phocion to demand their quota of the

charges of the war from the islanders, and offered him a guard of

twenty ships. Phocion told him, if he intended him to go against

them as enemies, that force was insignificant; if as to friends

and allies, one vessel was sufficient. So he took his own single

galley, and having visited the cities, and treated with the

magistrates in an equitable and open manner, he brought back a

number of ships, sent by the confederates to Athens, to convey the

supplies. Neither did his friendship and attention close with

Chabrias's life, but after his decease he carefully maintained it

to all that were related to him, and chiefly to his son Ctesippus,

whom he labored to bring to some good, and although he was a

stupid and intractable young fellow, always endeavored, so far as

in him lay, to correct and cover his faults and follies. Once,

however, when the youngster was very impertinent and troublesome

to him in the camp, interrupting him with idle questions, and

putting forward his opinions and suggestions of how the war should

be conducted, he could not forbear exclaiming, "O Chabrias,

Chabrias, how grateful I show myself for your friendship, in

submitting to endure your son."

Upon looking into public matters, and the way in which they were

now conducted, he observed that the administration of affairs was

cut and parceled out, like so much land by allotment, between the

military men and the public speakers, so that neither these nor

those should interfere with the claims of the others. As the one

were to address the assemblies, to draw up votes and prepare

motions, men, for example, like Eubulus, Aristophon, Demosthenes,

Lycurgus, and Hyperides, and were to push their interests here;

so, in the meantime, Diopithes, Menestheus, Leosthenes, and

Chares, were to make their profit by war and in military commands.

Phocion, on the other hand, was desirous to restore and carry out

the old system, more complete in itself, and more harmonious and

uniform, which prevailed in the times of Pericles, Aristides, and

Solon; when statesmen showed themselves, to use Archilochus's

words, --

Mars' and the Muses' friends alike designed,

To arts and arms indifferently inclined,

and the presiding goddess of his country was, he did not fail to

see, the patroness and protectress of both civil and military

wisdom. With these views, while his advice at home was always for

peace and quietness, he nevertheless held the office of general

more frequently than any of the statesmen, not only of his own

times, but of those preceding, never, indeed, promoting or

encouraging military expeditions, yet never, on the other hand,

shunning or declining, when he was called upon by the public

voice. Thus much is well known, that he was no less than

forty-five several times chosen general, he being never on any one

of those occasions present at the election, but having the

command, in his absence, by common suffrage, conferred on him, and

he sent for on purpose to undertake it. Insomuch that it amazed

those who did not well consider, to see the people always prefer

Phocion, who was so far from humoring them or courting their

favor, that he always thwarted and opposed them. But so it was,

as great men and princes are said to call in their flatterers when

dinner has been served, so the Athenians, upon slight occasions,

entertained and diverted themselves with their spruce speakers and

trim orators, but when it came to action, they were sober and

considerate enough to single out the austerest and wisest for

public employment, however much he might be opposed to their

wishes and sentiments. This, indeed, he made no scruple to admit,

when the oracle from Delphi was read, which informed them that the

Athenians were all of one mind, a single dissentient only

excepted, frankly coming forward and declaring that they need look

no further; he was the man, there was no one but he who was

dissatisfied with everything they did. And when once he gave his

opinion to the people, and was met with the general approbation

and applause of the assembly, turning to some of his friends, he

asked them, "Have I inadvertently said something foolish?"

Upon occasion of a public festivity, being solicited for his

contribution by the example of others, and the people pressing him

much, he bade them apply themselves to the wealthy; for his part

he should blush to make a present here, rather than a repayment

there, turning and, pointing to Callicles, the money-lender.

Being still clamored upon and importuned, he told them this tale.

A certain cowardly fellow setting out for the wars, hearing the

ravens croak in his passage, threw down his arms, resolving to

wait. Presently he took them and ventured out again, but hearing

the same music, once more made a stop. "For," said he, "you may

croak till you are tired, but you shall make no dinner upon me."

The Athenians urging him at an unseasonable time to lead them out

against the enemy, he peremptorily refused, and being upbraided by

them with cowardice and pusillanimity, he told them, "Just now, do

what you will, I shall not be brave; and do what I will, you will

not be cowards. Nevertheless, we know well enough what we are."

And when again, in a time of great danger, the people were very

harsh upon him, demanding a strict account how the public money

had been employed, and the like, he bade them, "First, good

friends, make sure you are safe." After a war, during which they

had been very tractable and timorous, when, upon peace being made,

they began again to be confident and overbearing, and to cry out

upon Phocion, as having lost them the honor of victory, to all

their clamor he made only this answer, "My friends, you are

fortunate in having a leader who knows you; otherwise, you had

long since been undone."

Having a controversy with the Boeotians about boundaries, which he

counseled them to decide by negotiation, they inclined to blows.

"You had better," said he, "carry on the contest with the weapons

in which you excel, (your tongues,) and not by war, in which you

are inferior." Once, when he was addressing them, and they would

not hear him or let him go on, said he, "You may compel me to act

against my wishes, but you shall never force me to speak against

my judgment." Among the many public speakers who opposed him,

Demosthenes, for example, once told him, "The Athenians, Phocion,

will kill you some day when they once are in a rage." "And you,"

said he, "if they once are in their senses." Polyeuctus, the

Sphettian, once on a hot day was urging war with Philip, and being

a corpulent man, and out of breath and in a great heat with

speaking, took numerous draughts of water as he went on. "Here,

indeed," said Phocion, "is a fit man to lead us into a war! What

think you he will do when he is carrying his corslet and his

shield to meet the enemy, if even here, delivering a prepared

speech to you has almost killed him with exhaustion?" When

Lycurgus in the assembly made many reflections on his past

conduct, upbraiding him above all for having advised them to

deliver up the ten citizens whom Alexander had demanded, he

replied that he had been the author of much safe and wholesome

counsel, which had not been followed.

There was a man called Archibiades, nicknamed the Lacedaemonian,

who used to go about with a huge overgrown beard, wearing an old

threadbare cloak, and affecting a very stern countenance. Phocion

once, when attacked in council by the rest, appealed to this man

for his support and testimony. And when he got up and began to

speak on the popular side, putting his hand to his beard, "O

Archibiades," said he, "it is time you should shave."

Aristogiton, a common accuser, was a terrible man of war within

the assembly, always inflaming the people to battle, but when the

muster-roll came to be produced, he appeared limping on a crutch,

with a bandage on his leg; Phocion descried him afar off, coming

in, and cried out to the clerk, "Put down Aristogiton, too, as

lame and worthless."

So that it is a little wonderful, how a man so severe and harsh

upon all occasions should, notwithstanding, obtain the name of the

Good. Yet, though difficult, it is not, I suppose, impossible for

men's tempers, any more than for wines, to be at the same time

harsh and agreeable to the taste; just as on the other hand many

that are sweet at the first taste, are found, on further use,

extremely disagreeable and very unwholesome. Hyperides, we are

told, once said to the people, "Do not ask yourselves, men of

Athens, whether or not I am bitter, but whether or not I am paid

for being so," as though a covetous purpose were the only thing

that should make a harsh temper insupportable, and as if men might

not even more justly render themselves obnoxious to popular

dislike and censure, by using their power and influence in the

indulgence of their own private passions of pride and jealousy,

anger and animosity. Phocion never allowed himself from any

feeling of personal hostility to do hurt to any fellow-citizen,

nor, indeed, reputed any man his enemy, except so far as he could

not but contend sharply with such as opposed the measures he urged

for the public good; in which argument he was, indeed, a rude,

obstinate, and uncompromising adversary. For his general

conversation, it was easy, courteous, and obliging to all, to that

point that he would befriend his very opponents in their distress,

and espouse the cause of those who differed most from him, when

they needed his patronage. His friends reproaching him for

pleading in behalf of a man of indifferent character, he told them

the innocent had no need of an advocate. Aristogiton, the

sycophant, whom we mentioned before, having after sentence passed

upon him, sent earnestly to Phocion to speak with him in the

prison, his friends dissuaded him from going; "Nay, by your

favor," said he, "where should I rather choose to pay Aristogiton

a visit?"

As for the allies of the Athenians, and the islanders, whenever

any admiral besides Phocion was sent, they treated him as an enemy

suspect, barricaded their gates, blocked up their havens, brought

in from the country their cattle, slaves, wives, and children, and

put them in garrison; but upon Phocion's arrival, they went out to

welcome him in their private boats and barges, with streamers

and garlands, and received him at landing with every demonstration

of joy and pleasure.

When king Philip was effecting his entry into Euboea, and was

bringing over troops from Macedonia, and making himself master of

the cities, by means of the tyrants who ruled in them, Plutarch of

Eretria sent to request aid of the Athenians for the relief of the

island, which was in imminent danger of falling wholly into the

hands of the Macedonians. Phocion was sent thither with a handful

of men in comparison, in expectation that the Euboeans themselves

would flock in and join him. But when he came, he found all

things in confusion, the country all betrayed, the whole ground,

as it were, undermined under his feet, by the secret pensioners of

king Philip, so that he was in the greatest risk imaginable. To

secure himself as far as he could, he seized a small rising

ground, which was divided from the level plains about Tamynae by a

deep watercourse, and here he enclosed and fortified the choicest

of his army. As for the idle talkers and disorderly bad citizens

who ran off from his camp and made their way back, he bade his

officers not regard them, since here they would have been not only

useless and ungovernable themselves, but an actual hindrance to

the rest; and further, being conscious to themselves of the

neglect of their duty, they would be less ready to misrepresent

the action, or raise a cry against them at their return home.

When the enemy drew nigh, he bade his men stand to their arms,

until he had finished the sacrifice, in which he spent a

considerable time, either by some difficulty of the thing itself,

or on purpose to invite the enemy nearer. Plutarch, interpreting

this tardiness as a failure in his courage, fell on alone with the

mercenaries, which the cavalry perceiving, could not be contained,

but issuing also out of the camp, confusedly and in disorder,

spurred up to the enemy. The first who came up were defeated, the

rest were put to the rout, Plutarch himself took to flight, and a

body of the enemy advanced in the hope of carrying the camp,

supposing themselves to have secured the victory. But by this

time, the sacrifice being over, the Athenians within the camp came

forward, and falling upon them put them to flight, and killed the

greater number as they fled among the entrenchments, while

Phocion ordering his infantry to keep on the watch and rally those

who came in from the previous flight, himself, with a body of his

best men, engaged the enemy in a sharp and bloody fight, in which

all of them behaved with signal courage and gallantry. Thallus,

the son of Cineas, and Glaucus, of Polymedes, who fought near the

general, gained the honors of the day. Cleophanes, also, did good

service in the battle. Recovering the cavalry from its defeat,

and with his shouts and encouragement bringing them up to succor

the general, who was in danger, he confirmed the victory obtained

by the infantry. Phocion now expelled Plutarch from Eretria, and

possessed himself of the very important fort of Zaretra, situated

where the island is pinched in, as it were, by the seas on each

side, and its breadth most reduced to a narrow girth. He released

all the Greeks whom he took out of fear of the public speakers at

Athens, thinking they might very likely persuade the people in

their anger into committing some act of cruelty.

This affair thus dispatched and settled, Phocion set sail

homewards, and the allies had soon as good reason to regret the

loss of his just and humane dealing, as the Athenians that of his

experience and courage. Molossus, the commander who took his

place, had no better success than to fall alive into the enemy's

hands. Philip, full of great thoughts and designs, now advanced

with all his forces into the Hellespont, to seize the Chersonesus

and Perinthus, and after them, Byzantium. The Athenians raised a

force to relieve them, but the popular leaders made it their

business to prefer Chares to be general, who, sailing thither,

effected nothing worthy of the means placed in his hands. The

cities were afraid, and would not receive his ships into their

harbors, so that he did nothing but wander about, raising money

from their friends, and despised by their enemies. And when the

people, chafed by the orators, were extremely indignant, and

repented having ever sent any help to the Byzantines, Phocion rose

and told them they ought not to be angry with the allies for

distrusting, but with their generals for being distrusted. "They

make you suspected," he said, "even by those who cannot possibly

subsist without your succor." The assembly being moved with this

speech of his, changed their minds on the sudden, and commanded

him immediately to raise another force, and go himself to assist

their confederates in the Hellespont; an appointment which, in

effect, contributed more than anything to the relief of

Byzantium.

For Phocion's name was already honorably known; and an old

acquaintance of his, who had been his fellow-student in the

Academy, Leon, a man of high renown for virtue among the

Byzantines, having vouched for Phocion to the city, they opened

their gates to receive him, not permitting him, though he desired

it, to encamp without the walls, but entertained him and all the

Athenians with perfect reliance, while they, to requite their

confidence, behaved among their new hosts soberly and

inoffensively, and exerted themselves on all occasions with the

greatest zeal and resolution for their defense. Thus king Philip

was driven out of the Hellespont, and was despised to boot, whom

till now, it had been thought impossible to match, or even to

oppose. Phocion also took some of his ships, and recaptured some

of the places he had garrisoned, making besides several inroads

into the country, which he plundered and overran, until he

received a wound from some of the enemy who came to the defense,

and, thereupon, sailed away home.

The Megarians at this time privately praying aid of the Athenians,

Phocion, fearing lest the Boeotians should hear of it, and

anticipate them, called an assembly at sunrise, and brought

forward the petition of the Megarians, and immediately after the

vote had been put, and carried in their favor, he sounded the

trumpet, and led the Athenians straight from the assembly, to arm

and put themselves in posture. The Megarians received them

joyfully, and he proceeded to fortify Nisea, and built two new

long walls from the city to the arsenal, and so joined it to the

sea, so that having now little reason to regard the enemies on the

land side, it placed its dependence entirely on the Athenians.

When final hostilities with Philip were now certain, and in

Phocion's absence other generals had been nominated, he on his

arrival from the islands, dealt earnestly with the Athenians, that

since Philip showed peaceable inclinations towards them, and

greatly apprehended the danger, they would consent to a treaty.

Being contradicted in this by one of the ordinary frequenters of

the courts of justice, a common accuser, who asked him if he durst

presume to persuade the Athenians to peace, now their arms were in

their hands, "Yes," said he, "though I know that if there be war,

I shall be in office over you, and if peace, you over me." But

when he could not prevail, and Demosthenes's opinion carried it,

advising them to make war as far off from home as possible, and

fight the battle out of Attica, "Good friend," said Phocion, "let

us not ask where we shall fight, but how we may conquer in the

war. That will be the way to keep it at a distance. If we are

beaten, it will be quickly at our doors." After the defeat, when

the clamorers and incendiaries in the town would have brought up

Charidemus to the hustings, to be nominated to the command, the

best of the citizens were in a panic, and supporting themselves

with the aid of the council of the Areopagus, with entreaties and

tears hardly prevailed upon the people to have Phocion entrusted

with the care of the city. He was of opinion, in general, that

the fair terms to be expected from Philip should be accepted, yet

after Demades had made a motion that the city should receive the

common conditions of peace in concurrence with the rest of the

states of Greece, he opposed it, till it were known what the

particulars were which Philip demanded. He was overborne in this

advice, under the pressure of the time, but almost immediately

after, the Athenians repented it, when they understood that by

these articles, they were obliged to furnish Philip both with

horse and shipping. "It was the fear of this," said Phocion,

"that occasioned my opposition. But since the thing is done, let

us make the best of it, and not be discouraged. Our forefathers

were sometimes in command, and sometimes under it; and by doing

their duty, whether as rulers or as subjects, saved their own

country and the rest of Greece."

Upon the news of Philip's death, he opposed himself to any public

demonstrations of joy and jubilee, saying it would be ignoble to

show malice upon such an occasion, and that the army that had

fought them at Chaeronea, was only diminished by a single man.

When Demosthenes made his invectives against Alexander, now on his

way to attack Thebes, he repeated those verses of Homer, --

"Unwise one, wherefore to a second stroke

His anger be foolhardy to provoke?"

and asked, "Why stimulate his already eager passion for glory?

Why take pains to expose the city to the terrible conflagration

now so near? We, who accepted office to save our fellow-citizens,

will not, however they desire it, be consenting to their

destruction."

After Thebes was lost, and Alexander had demanded Demosthenes,

Lycurgus, Hyperides, and Charidemus to be delivered up, the whole

assembly turning their eyes to him, and calling on him by name to

deliver his opinion, at last he rose up, and showing them one of

his most intimate friends, whom he loved and confided in above all

others, told them, "You have brought things amongst you to that

pass, that for my part, should he demand this my friend Nicocles,

I would not refuse to give him up. For as for myself, to have it

in my power to sacrifice my own life and fortune for the common

safety, I should think the greatest of good fortune. Truly," he

added, "it pierces my heart to see those who are fled hither for

succor from the desolation of Thebes. Yet it is enough for Greece

to have Thebes to deplore. It will be more for the interest of

all that we should deprecate the conqueror's anger, and intercede

for both, than run the hazard of another battle."

When this was decreed by the people, Alexander is said to have

rejected their first address when it was presented, throwing it

from him scornfully, and turning his back upon the deputation, who

left him in affright. But the second, which was presented by

Phocion, he received, understanding from the older Macedonians how

much Philip had admired and esteemed him. And he not only gave

him audience and listened to his memorial and petition, but also

permitted him to advise him, which he did to this effect, that if

his designs were for quietness, he should make peace at once; if

glory were his aim, he should make war, not upon Greece, but on

the barbarians. And with various counsels and suggestions,

happily designed to meet the genius and feelings of Alexander, he

so won upon him, and softened his temper, that he bade the

Athenians not forget their position, as if anything went wrong

with him, the supremacy belonged to them. And to Phocion himself,

whom he adopted as his friend and guest, he showed a respect, and

admitted him to distinctions, which few of those who were

continually near his person ever received. Duris, at any rate,

tells us, that when he became great, and had conquered Darius, in

the heading of all his letters he left off the word Greeting,

except in those he wrote to Phocion. To him, and to Antipater

alone, he condescended to use it. This, also, is stated by

Chares.

As for his munificence to him, it is well known he sent him a

present at one time of one hundred talents; and this being brought

to Athens, Phocion asked of the bearers, how it came to pass, that

among all the Athenians, he alone should be the object of this

bounty. And being told that Alexander esteemed him alone a person

of honor and worth, "Let him, then," said he, "permit me to

continue so, and be still so reputed." Following him to his

house, and observing his simple and plain way of living, his wife

employed in kneading bread with her own hands, himself drawing

water to wash his feet, they pressed him to accept it, with some

indignation, being ashamed, as they said, that Alexander's friend

should live so poorly and pitifully. So Phocion pointing out to

them a poor old fellow, in a dirty worn-out coat, passing by,

asked them if they thought him in worse condition than this man.

They bade him not mention such a comparison. "Yet," said Phocion,

"he with less to live upon than I, finds it sufficient, and in

brief," he continued, "if I do not use this money, what good is

there in my having it; and if I do use it, I shall procure an ill

name, both for myself and for Alexander, among my countrymen." So

the treasure went back again from Athens, to prove to Greece, by a

signal example, that he who could afford to give so magnificent a

present, was yet not so rich as he who could afford to refuse it.

And when Alexander was displeased, and wrote back to him to say

that he could not esteem those his friends, who would not be

obliged by him, not even would this induce Phocion to accept the

money, but he begged leave to intercede with him in behalf of

Echecratides, the sophist, and Athenodorus, the Imbrian, as also

for Demaratus and Sparton, two Rhodians, who had been arrested

upon some charges, and were in custody at Sardis. This was

instantly granted by Alexander, and they were set at liberty.

Afterwards, when sending Craterus into Macedonia, he commanded him

to make him an offer of four cities in Asia, Cius, Gergithus,

Mylasa, and Elaea, any one of which, at his choice, should be

delivered to him; insisting yet more positively with him, and

declaring he should resent it, should he continue obstinate in his

refusal. But Phocion was not to be prevailed with at all, and,

shortly after, Alexander died.

Phocion's house is shown to this day in Melita, ornamented with

small plates of copper, but otherwise plain and homely.

Concerning his wives, of the first of them there is little said,

except that she was sister of Cephisodotus, the statuary. The

other was a matron of no less reputation for her virtues and

simple living among the Athenians, than Phocion was for his

probity. It happened once when the people were entertained with a

new tragedy, that the actor, just as he was to enter the stage to

perform the part of a queen, demanded to have a number of

attendants sumptuously dressed, to follow in his train, and on

their not being provided, was sullen and refused to act, keeping

the audience waiting, till at last Melanthius, who had to furnish

the chorus, pushed him on the stage, crying out, "What, don't you

know that Phocion's wife is never attended by more than a single

waiting woman, but you must needs be grand, and fill our women's

heads with vanity?" This speech of his, spoken loud enough to be

heard, was received with great applause, and clapped all round the

theater. She herself, when once entertaining a visitor out of

Ionia, who showed her all her rich ornaments, made of gold and set

with jewels, her wreaths, necklaces, and the like, "For my part,"

said she, "all my ornament is my husband Phocion, now for the

twentieth year in office as general at Athens."

He had a son named Phocus, who wished to take part in the games at

the great feast of Minerva. He permitted him so to do, in the

contest of leaping, not with any view to the victory, but in the

hope that the training and discipline for it would make him a

better man, the youth being in a general way a lover of drinking,

and ill-regulated in his habits. On his having succeeded in the

sports, many were eager for the honor of his company at banquets

in celebration of the victory. Phocion declined all these

invitations but one, and when he came to this entertainment and

saw the costly preparations, even the water brought to wash the

guests' feet being mingled with wine and spices, he reprimanded

his son, asking him why he would so far permit his friend to sully

the honor of his victory. And in the hope of wholly weaning the

young man from such habits and company, he sent him to Lacedaemon,

and placed him among the youths then under the course of the

Spartan discipline. This the Athenians took offense at, as though

he slighted and contemned the education at home; and Demades

twitted him with it publicly, "Suppose, Phocion, you and I advise

the Athenians to adopt the Spartan constitution. If you like, I

am ready to introduce a bill to that effect, and to speak in its

favor." "Indeed," said Phocion, "you with that strong scent of

perfumes about you, and with that mantle on your shoulders, are

just the very man to speak in honor of Lycurgus, and recommend the

Spartan table."

When Alexander wrote to demand a supply of galleys, and the public

speakers objected to sending them, Phocion, on the council

requesting his opinion, told them freely, "Sirs, I would either

have you victorious yourselves, or friends of those who are so."

He took up Pytheas, who about this time first began to address the

assembly, and already showed himself a confident, talking fellow,

by saying that a young slave whom the people had but bought

yesterday, ought to have the manners to hold his tongue. And

when Harpalus, who had fled from Alexander out of Asia, carrying

off a large sum of money, came to Attica, and there was a perfect

race among the ordinary public men of the assembly who should be

the first to take his pay, he distributed amongst these some

trifling sums by way of a bait and provocative, but to Phocion he

made an offer of no less than seven hundred talents and all manner

of other advantages he pleased to demand; with the compliment that

he would entirely commit himself and all his affairs to his

disposal. Phocion answered sharply, Harpalus should repent of it,

if he did not quickly leave off corrupting and debauching the

city, which for the time silenced him, and checked his

proceedings. But afterwards, when the Athenians were deliberating

in council about him, he found those that had received money from

him to be his greatest enemies, urging and aggravating matters

against him, to prevent themselves being discovered, whereas

Phocion, who had never touched his pay, now, so far as the public

interest would admit of it, showed some regard to his particular

security. This encouraged him once more to try his inclinations,

and upon further survey, finding that he himself was a fortress,

inaccessible on every quarter to the approaches of corruption, he

professed a particular friendship to Phocion's son-in-law,

Charicles. And admitting him into his confidence in all his

affairs, and continually requesting his assistance, he brought him

into some suspicion. Upon the occasion, for example, of the death

of Pythonice, who was Harpalus's mistress, for whom he had a great

fondness, and had a child by her, he resolved to build her a

sumptuous monument, and committed the care of it to his friend

Charicles. This commission, disreputable enough in itself, was

yet further disparaged by the figure the piece of workmanship made

after it was finished. It is yet to be seen in the Hermeum. as

you go from Athens to Eleusis, with nothing in its appearance

answerable to the sum of thirty talents, with which Charicles is

said to have charged Harpalus for its erection. After Harpalus's

own decease, his daughter was educated by Phocion and Charicles

with great care. But when Charicles was called to account for his

dealings with Harpalus, and entreated his father-in-law's

protection, begging that he would appear for him in the court,

Phocion refused, telling him, "I did not choose you for my

son-in-law for any but honorable purposes."

Asclepiades, the son of Hipparchus, brought the first tidings of

Alexander's death to Athens, which Demades told them was not to be

credited; for, were it true, the whole world would ere this have

stunk with the dead body. But Phocion seeing the people eager for

an instant revolution, did his best to quiet and repress them.

And when numbers of them rushed up to the hustings to speak, and

cried out that the news was true, and Alexander was dead, "If he

is dead today," said he, "he will be so tomorrow and the day

after tomorrow equally. So that there is no need to take counsel

hastily or before it is safe."

When Leosthenes now had embarked the city in the Lamian war,

greatly against Phocion's wishes, to raise a laugh against

Phocion, he asked him scoffingly, what the State had been

benefited by his having now so many years been general. "It is

not a little," said Phocion, "that the citizens have been buried

in their own sepulchers." And when Leosthenes continued to speak

boldly and boastfully in the assembly, "Young man," he said, "your

speeches are like cypress trees, stately and tall, and no fruit to

come of them." And when he was then attacked by Hyperides, who

asked him when the time would come, that he would advise the

Athenians to make war, "As soon," said he, "as I find the young

men keep their ranks, the rich men contribute their money, and the

Orators leave off robbing the treasury." Afterwards, when many

admired the forces raised, and the preparations for war that were

made by Leosthenes, they asked Phocion how he approved of the new

levies. "Very well," said he, "for the short course; but what I

fear, is the long race. Since however late the war may last, the

city has neither money, ships, nor soldiers, but these." And the

event justified his prognostics. At first all things appeared

fair and promising. Leosthenes gained great reputation by

worsting the Boeotians in battle, and driving Antipater within

the walls of Lamia, and the citizens were so transported with the

first successes, that they kept solemn festivities for them, and

offered public sacrifices to the gods. So that some, thinking

Phocion must now be convinced of his error, asked him whether he

would not willingly have been author of these successful actions.

"Yes," said he, "most gladly, but also of the former counsel."

And when one express after another came from the camp, confirming

and magnifying the victories, "When," said he, "will the end of

them come?"

Leosthenes, soon after, was killed, and now those who feared lest

if Phocion obtained the command, he would put an end to the war,

arranged with an obscure person in the assembly, who should stand

up and profess himself to be a friend and old confidant of

Phocion's, and persuade the people to spare him at this time, and

reserve him (with whom none could compare) for a more pressing

occasion, and now to give Antiphilus the command of the army.

This pleased the generality, but Phocion made it appear he was so

far from having any friendship with him of old standing, that he

had not so much as the least familiarity with him; "Yet now, sir,"

says he, "give me leave to put you down among the number of my

friends and well-wishers, as you have given a piece of advice so

much to my advantage."

And when the people were eager to make an expedition against the

Boeotians, he at first opposed it; and on his friends telling him

the people would kill him, for always running counter to them,

"That will be unjust of them," he said, "if I give them honest

advice, if not, it will be just of them.'' But when he found them

persisting and shouting to him to lead them out, he commanded the

crier to make proclamation, that all the Athenians under sixty

should instantly provide themselves with five days' provision, and

follow him from the assembly. This caused a great tumult. Those

in years were startled, and clamored against the order; he

demanded wherein he injured them, "For I," says he, "am now

fourscore, and am ready to lead you." This succeeded in pacifying

them for the present.

But when Micion, with a large force of Macedonians and

mercenaries, began to pillage the sea-coast, having made a descent

upon Rhamnus, and overrun the neighboring country, Phocion led out

the Athenians to attack him. And when sundry private persons

came, intermeddling with his dispositions, and telling him that he

ought to occupy such or such a hill, detach the cavalry in this or

that direction, engage the enemy on this point or that, "O

Hercules," said he, "how many generals have we here, and how few

soldiers!" Afterwards, having formed the battle, one who wished

to show his bravery, advanced out of his post before the rest, but

on the enemy's approaching, lost heart, and retired back into his

rank. "Young man," said Phocion, "are you not ashamed twice in

one day to desert your station, first that on which I had placed

you, and secondly, that on which you had placed yourself?"

However, he entirely routed the enemy, killing Micion and many

more on the spot. The Grecian army, also, in Thessaly, after

Leonnatus and the Macedonians who came with him out of Asia, had

arrived and joined Antipater, fought and beat them in a battle.

Leonnatus was killed in the fight, Antiphilus commanding the foot,

and Menon, the Thessalian, the horse.

But not long after, Craterus crossed from Asia with numerous

forces; a pitched battle was fought at Cranon; the Greeks were

beaten; though not, indeed, in a signal defeat, nor with any great

loss of men. But what with their want of obedience to their

commanders, who were young and over-indulgent with them, and what

with Antipater's tampering and treating with their separate

cities, one by one, the end of it was that the army was dissolved,

and the Greeks shamefully surrendered the liberty of their

country.

Upon the news of Antipater's now advancing at once against Athens

with all his force, Demosthenes and Hyperides deserted the city,

and Demades, who was altogether insolvent for any part of the

fines that had been laid upon him by the city, for he had been

condemned no less than seven times for introducing bills contrary

to the laws, and who had been disfranchised, and was no longer

competent to vote in the assembly, laid hold of this season of

impunity, to bring in a bill for sending ambassadors with

plenipotentiary power to Antipater, to treat about a peace. But

the people distrusted him, and called upon Phocion to give his

opinion, as the person they only and entirely confided in. He

told them, "If my former counsels had been prevalent with you, we

had not been reduced to deliberate on the question at all."

However, the vote passed; and a decree was made, and he with

others deputed to go to Antipater, who lay now encamped in the

Theban territories, but intended to dislodge immediately, and pass

into Attica. Phocion's first request was, that he would make the

treaty without moving his camp. And when Craterus declared that

it was not fair to ask them to be burdensome to the country of

their friends and allies by their stay, when they might rather use

that of their enemies for provisions and the support of their

army, Antipater taking him by the hand, said, "We must grant this

favor to Phocion." For the rest, he bade them return to their

principals, and acquaint them that he could only offer them the

same terms, namely, to surrender at discretion, which Leosthenes

had offered to him when he was shut up in Lamia.

When Phocion had returned to the city, and acquainted them with

this answer, they made a virtue of necessity, and complied, since

it would be no better. So Phocion returned to Thebes with the

other ambassadors, and among the rest, Xenocrates, the

philosopher, the reputation of whose virtue and wisdom was so

great and famous everywhere, that they conceived there could not

be any pride, cruelty, or anger arising in the heart of man, which

would not at the mere sight of him be subdued into something of

reverence and admiration. But the result, as it happened, was the

very opposite, Antipater showed such a want of feeling, and such a

dislike of goodness. He saluted everyone else, but would not so

much as notice Xenocrates. Xenocrates, they tell us, observed

upon it, that Antipater when meditating such cruelty to Athens,

did well to be ashamed of seeing him. When he began to speak, he

would not hear him, but broke in and rudely interrupted him, until

at last he was obliged to he silent. But when Phocion had

declared the purport of their embassy, he replied shortly, that he

would make peace with the Athenians on these conditions, and no

others; that Demosthenes and Hyperides should be delivered up to

him; that they should retain their ancient form of government, the

franchise being determined by a property qualification; that they

should receive a garrison into Munychia, and pay a certain sum for

the cost of the war. As things stood, these terms were judged

tolerable by the rest of the ambassadors; Xenocrates only said,

that if Antipater considered the Athenians slaves, he was treating

them fairly, but if free, severely. Phocion pressed him only to

spare them the garrison, and used many arguments and entreaties.

Antipater replied, "Phocion, we are ready to do you any favor,

which will not bring ruin both on ourselves and on you." Others

report it differently; that Antipater asked Phocion, supposing he

remitted the garrison to the Athenians, would he, Phocion, stand

surety for the city's observing the terms and attempting no

revolution? And when he hesitated, and did not at once reply,

Callimedon, the Carabus, a hot partisan and professed enemy of

free states, cried out, "And if he should talk so idly, Antipater,

will you be so much abused as to believe him and not carry out

your own purpose?" So the Athenians received the garrison, and

Menyllus for the governor, a fair-dealing man, and one of

Phocion's acquaintance.

But the proceeding seemed sufficiently imperious and arbitrary,

indeed rather a spiteful and insulting ostentation of power, than

that the possession of the fortress would be of any great

importance. The resentment felt upon it was heightened by the

time it happened in, for the garrison was brought in on the

twentieth of the month of Boedromion, just at the time of the

great festival, when they carry forth Iacchus with solemn pomp

from the city to Eleusis; so that the solemnity being disturbed,

many began to call to mind instances, both ancient and modern, of

divine interventions and intimations. For in old time, upon the

occasions of their happiest successes, the presence of the shapes

and voices of the mystic ceremonies had been vouchsafed to them,

striking terror and amazement into their enemies; but now, at the

very season of their celebration, the gods themselves stood

witnesses of the saddest oppressions of Greece, the most holy time

being profaned, and their greatest jubilee made the unlucky date

of their most extreme calamity. Not many years before, they had a

warning from the oracle at Dodona, that they should carefully

guard the summits of Diana, lest haply strangers should seize

them. And about this very time, when they dyed the ribbons and

garlands with which they adorn the couches and cars of the

procession, instead of a purple they received only a faint yellow

color; and to make the omen yet greater, all the things that were

dyed for common use, took the natural color. While a candidate

for initiation was washing a young pig in the haven of Cantharus,

a shark seized him, bit off all his lower parts up to the belly,

and devoured them, by which the god gave them manifestly to

understand, that having lost the lower town and the sea-coast,

they should keep only the upper city.

Menyllus was sufficient security that the garrison should behave

itself inoffensively. But those who were now excluded from the

franchise by poverty, amounted to more than twelve thousand; so

that both those that remained in the city thought themselves

oppressed and shamefully used, and those who on this account left

their homes and went away into Thrace, where Antipater offered

them a town and some territory to inhabit, regarded themselves

only as a colony of slaves and exiles. And when to this was added

the deaths of Demosthenes at Calauria, and of Hyperides at

Cleonae, as we have elsewhere related, the citizens began to think

with regret of Philip and Alexander, and almost to wish the return

of those times. And as, after Antigonus was slain, when those

that had taken him off were afflicting and oppressing the people,

a countryman in Phrygia, digging in the fields, was asked what he

was doing, "I am," said he, fetching a deep sigh, "searching for

Antigonus;" so said many that remembered those days, and the

contests they had with those kings, whose anger, however great,

was yet generous and placable; whereas Antipater, with the

counterfeit humility of appearing like a private man, in the

meanness of his dress and his homely fare, merely belied his

real love of that arbitrary power, which he exercised, as a cruel

master and despot, to distress those under his command. Yet

Phocion had interest with him to recall many from banishment by

his intercession, and prevailed also for those who were driven

out, that they might not, like others, be hurried beyond Taenarus,

and the mountains of Ceraunia, but remain in Greece, and plant

themselves in Peloponnesus, of which number was Agnonides, the

sycophant. He was no less studious to manage the affairs within

the city with equity and moderation, preferring constantly those

that were men of worth and good education to the magistracies, and

recommending the busy and turbulent talkers, to whom it was a

mortal blow to be excluded from office and public debating, to

learn to stay at home, and be content to till their land. And

observing that Xenocrates paid his alien-tax as a foreigner, he

offered him the freedom of the city, which he refused, saying he

could not accept a franchise which he had been sent, as an

ambassador, to deprecate.

Menyllus wished to give Phocion a considerable present of money,

who, thanking him, said, neither was Menyllus greater than

Alexander, nor his own occasions more urgent to receive it now,

than when he refused it from him.. And on his pressing him to

permit his son Phocus to receive it, he replied, "If my son

returns to a right mind, his patrimony is sufficient; if not, all

supplies will be insufficient." But to Antipater he answered more

sharply, who would have him engaged in something dishonorable.

"Antipater," said he, "cannot have me both as his friend and his

flatterer." And, indeed, Antipater was wont to say, he had two

friends at Athens, Phocion and Demades; the one would never suffer

him to gratify him at all, the other would never be satisfied.

Phocion might well think that poverty a virtue, in which, after

having so often been general of the Athenians, and admitted to the

friendship of potentates and princes, he had now grown old.

Demades, meantime, delighted in lavishing his wealth even in

positive transgressions of the law. For there having been an

order that no foreigner should be hired to dance in any chorus on

the penalty of a fine of one thousand drachmas on the exhibitor,

he had the vanity to exhibit an entire chorus of a hundred

foreigners, and paid down the penalty of a thousand drachmas a

head upon the stage itself. Marrying his son Demeas, he told him

with the like vanity, "My son, when I married your mother, it was

done so privately it was not known to the next neighbors, but

kings and princes give presents at your nuptials."

The garrison in Munychia continued to be felt as a great

grievance, and the Athenians did not cease to be importunate upon

Phocion, to prevail with Antipater for its removal; but whether he

despaired of effecting it, or perhaps observed the people to be

more orderly, and public matters more reasonably conducted by the

awe that was thus created, he constantly declined the office, and

contented himself with obtaining from Antipater the postponement

for the present of the payment of the sum of money in which the

city was fined. So the people, leaving him off, applied

themselves to Demades, who readily undertook the employment, and

took along with him his son also into Macedonia; and some superior

power, as it seems, so ordering it, he came just at that nick of

time, when Antipater was already seized with his sickness, and

Cassander, taking upon himself the command, had found a letter of

Demades's, formerly written by him to Antigonus in Asia,

recommending him to come and possess himself of the empire of

Greece and Macedon, now hanging, he said, (a scoff at Antipater,)

"by an old and rotten thread." So when Cassander saw him come, he

seized him; and first brought out the son and killed him so close

before his face, that the blood ran all over his clothes and

person, and then, after bitterly taunting and upbraiding him with

his ingratitude and treachery, dispatched him himself.

Antipater being dead, after nominating Polysperchon

general-in-chief, and Cassander commander of the cavalry,

Cassander at once set up for himself and immediately dispatched

Nicanor to Menyllus, to succeed him in the command of the

garrison, commanding him to possess himself of Munychia before the

news of Antipater's death should be heard; which being done, and

some days after the Athenians hearing the report of it, Phocion

was taxed as privy to it before, and censured heavily for

dissembling it, out of friendship for Nicanor. But he slighted

their talk, and making it his duty to visit and confer

continually with Nicanor, he succeeded in procuring his good-will

and kindness for the Athenians, and induced him even to put

himself to trouble and expense to seek popularity with them, by

undertaking the office of presiding at the games.

In the meantime Polysperchon, who was entrusted with the charge

of the king, to countermine Cassander, sent a letter to the city,

declaring in the name of the king, that he restored them their

democracy, and that the whole Athenian people were at liberty to

conduct their commonwealth according to their ancient customs and

constitutions. The object of these pretenses was merely the

overthrow of Phocion's influence, as the event manifested. For

Polysperchon's design being to possess himself of the city, he

despaired altogether of bringing it to pass, whilst Phocion

retained his credit; and the most certain way to ruin him, would

be again to fill the city with a crowd of disfranchised citizens,

and let loose the tongues of the demagogues and common accusers.

With this prospect, the Athenians were all in excitement, and

Nicanor, wishing to confer with them on the subject, at a meeting

of the Council in Piraeus, came himself, trusting for the safety

of his person to Phocion. And when Dercyllus, who commanded the

guard there, made an attempt to seize him, upon notice of it

beforehand, he made his escape, and there was little doubt he

would now lose no time in righting himself upon the city for the

affront; and when Phocion was found fault with for letting him get

off and not securing him, he defended himself by saying that he

had no mistrust of Nicanor, nor the least reason to expect any

mischief from him, but should it prove otherwise, for his part he

would have them all know, he would rather receive than do the

wrong. And so far as he spoke for himself alone, the answer was

honorable and high-minded enough, but he who hazards his country's

safety, and that, too, when he is her magistrate and chief

commander, can scarcely he acquitted, I fear, of transgressing a

higher and more sacred obligation of justice, which he owed to his

fellow citizens. For it will not even do to say, that he dreaded

the involving the city in war, by seizing Nicanor, and hoped by

professions of confidence and just-dealing, to retain him in the

observance of the like; but it was, indeed, his credulity and

confidence in him, and an overweening opinion of his sincerity,

that imposed upon him. So that notwithstanding the sundry

intimations he had of his making preparations to attack Piraeus,

sending soldiers over into Salamis, and tampering with, and

endeavoring to corrupt various residents in Piraeus, he would,

notwithstanding all this evidence, never be persuaded to believe

it. And even when Philomedes of Lampra had got a decree passed,

that all the Athenians should stand to their arms, and be ready to

follow Phocion their general, he yet sat still and did nothing,

until Nicanor actually led his troops out from Munychia, and drew

trenches about Piraeus; upon which, when Phocion at last would

have led out the Athenians, they cried out against him, and

slighted his orders.

Alexander, the son of Polysperchon, was at hand with a

considerable force, and professed to come to give them succor

against Nicanor, but intended nothing less, if possible, than to

surprise the city, whilst they were in tumult and divided among

themselves. For all that had previously been expelled from the

city, now coming back with him, made their way into it, and were

joined by a mixed multitude of foreigners and disfranchised

persons, and of these a motley and irregular public assembly came

together, in which they presently divested Phocion of all power,

and chose other generals; and if, by chance Alexander had not

been spied from the walls, alone in close conference with Nicanor,

and had not this, which was often repeated, given the Athenians

cause of suspicion, the city had not escaped the snare. The

orator Agnonides, however, at once fell foul upon Phocion, and

impeached him of treason; Callimedon and Charicles, fearing the

worst, consulted their own security by flying from the city;

Phocion, with a few of his friends that stayed with him, went over

to Polysperchon, and out of respect for him, Solon of Plataea,

and Dinarchus of Corinth, who were reputed friends and confidants

of Polysperchon, accompanied him. But on account of Dinarchus

falling ill, they remained several days in Elatea, during which

time, upon the persuasion of Agnonides and on the motion of

Archestratus a decree passed that the people should send delegates

thither to accuse Phocion. So both parties reached Polysperchon

at the same time, who was going through the country with the king,

and was then at a small village of Phocis, Pharygae, under the

mountain now called Galate, but then Acrurium.

There Polysperchon, having set up the golden canopy, and seated

the king and his company under it, ordered Dinarchus at once to be

taken, and tortured, and put to death; and that done, gave

audience to the Athenians, who filled the place with noise and

tumult, accusing and recriminating on one another, till at last

Agnonides came forward, and requested they might all be shut up

together in one cage, and conveyed to Athens, there to decide the

controversy. At that the king could not forbear smiling, but the

company that attended, for their own amusement, Macedonians and

strangers, were eager to hear the altercation, and made signs to

the delegates to go on with their case at once. But it was no

sort of fair hearing. Polysperchon frequently interrupted

Phocion, till at last Phocion struck his staff on the ground, and

declined to speak further. And when Hegemon said, Polysperchon

himself could bear witness to his affection for the people,

Polysperchon called out fiercely, "Give over slandering me to the

king," and the king starting up was about to have run him through

with his javelin, but Polysperchon interposed and hindered him; so

that the assembly dissolved.

Phocion, then, and those about him, were seized; those of his

friends that were not immediately by him, on seeing this, hid

their faces, and saved themselves by flight. The rest Clitus took

and brought to Athens, to be submitted to trial; but, in truth, as

men already sentenced to die. The manner of conveying them was

indeed extremely moving; they were carried in chariots through the

Ceramicus, straight to the place of judicature, where Clitus

secured them till they had convoked an assembly of the people,

which was open to all comers, neither foreigners, nor slaves, nor

those who had been punished with disfranchisement, being refused

admittance, but all alike, both men and women, being allowed to

come into the court, and even upon the place of speaking. So

having read the king's letters, in which he declared he was

satisfied himself that these men were traitors, however, they

being a free city, he willingly accorded them the grace of trying

and judging them according to their own laws, Clitus brought in

his prisoners. Every respectable citizen, at the sight of

Phocion, covered up his face, and stooped down to conceal his

tears. And one of them had the courage to say, that since the

king had committed so important a cause to the judgment of the

people, it would be well that the strangers, and those of servile

condition, should withdraw. But the populace would not endure it,

crying out they were oligarchs, and enemies to the liberty of the

people, and deserved to be stoned; after which no man durst offer

anything further in Phocion's behalf. He was himself with

difficulty heard at all, when he put the question, "Do you wish to

put us to death lawfully, or unlawfully?" Some answered,

"According to law." He replied, "How can you, except we have a

fair hearing?" But when they were deaf to all he said,

approaching nearer, "As to myself," said he, "I admit my guilt,

and pronounce my public conduct to have deserved sentence of

death. But why, O men of Athens, kill others who have offended in

nothing?" The rabble cried out, they were his friends, that was

enough. Phocion therefore drew back, and said no more.

Then Agnonides read the bill, in accordance with which the people

should decide by show of hands whether they judged them guilty,

and if so it should be found, the penalty should be death. When

this had been read out, some desired it might be added to the

sentence, that Phocion should be tortured also, and that the rack

should be produced with the executioners. But Agnonides

perceiving even Clitus to dislike this, and himself thinking it

horrid and barbarous, said, "When we catch that slave, Callimedon,

men of Athens, we will put him to the rack, but I shall make no

motion of the kind in Phocion's case." Upon which one of the

better citizens remarked, he was quite right; "If we should

torture Phocion, what could we do to you?" So the form of the

bill was approved of, and the show of hands called for; upon

which, not one man retaining his seat, but all rising up, and some

with garlands on their heads, they condemned them all to death.

There were present with Phocion, Nicocles, Thudippus, Hegemon, and

Pythocles. Demetrius the Phalerian, Callimedon, Charicles, and

some others, were included in the condemnation, being absent.

After the assembly was dismissed, they were carried to the prison;

the rest with cries and lamentations, their friends and relatives

following; and clinging about them, but Phocion looking (as men

observed with astonishment at his calmness and magnanimity) just

the same as when he had been used to return to his home attended,

as general, from the assembly. His enemies ran along by his side,

reviling and abusing him. And one of them coming up to him, spat

in his face; at which Phocion, turning to the officers, only said,

"You should stop this indecency." Thudippus, on their reaching

the prison, when he observed the executioner tempering the poison

and preparing it for them, gave way to his passion, and began to

bemoan his condition and the hard measure he received, thus

unjustly to suffer with Phocion. "You cannot be contented," said

he, "to die with Phocion?" One of his friends that stood by,

asked him if he wished to have anything said to his son. "Yes, by

all means," said he, "bid him bear no grudge against the

Athenians." Then Nicocles, the dearest and most faithful of his

friends, begged to be allowed to drink the poison first. "My

friend," said he, "you ask what I am loath and sorrowful to give,

but as I never yet in all my life was so thankless as to refuse

you, I must gratify you in this also." After they had all drunk

of it, the poison ran short; and the executioner refused to

prepare more, except they would pay him twelve drachmas, to defray

the cost of the quantity required. Some delay was made, and time

spent, when Phocion called one of his friends, and observing that

a man could not even die at Athens without paying for it,

requested him to give the sum.

It was the nineteenth day of the month Munychion, on which it was

the usage to have a solemn procession in the city, in honor of

Jupiter. The horsemen, as they passed by, some of them threw away

their garlands, others stopped, weeping, and casting sorrowful

looks towards the prison doors, and all the citizens whose minds

were not absolutely debauched by spite and passion, or who had any

humanity left, acknowledged it to have been most impiously done,

not, at least, to let that day pass, and the city so be kept pure

from death and a public execution at the solemn festival. But as

if this triumph had been insufficient, the malice of Phocion's

enemies went yet further; his dead body was excluded from burial

within the boundaries of the country, and none of the Athenians

could light a funeral pile to burn the corpse; neither durst any

of his friends venture to concern themselves about it. A certain

Conopion, a man who used to do these offices for hire, took the

body and carried it beyond Eleusis, and procuring fire from over

the frontier of Megara, burned it. Phocion's wife, with her

servant-maids, being present and assisting at the solemnity,

raised there an empty tomb, and performed the customary libations,

and gathering up the bones in her lap, and bringing them home by

night, dug a place for them by the fireside in her house, saying,

"Blessed hearth, to your custody I commit the remains of a good

and brave man; and, I beseech you, protect and restore them to the

sepulcher of his fathers, when the Athenians return to their right

minds."

And, indeed, a very little time and their own sad experience soon

informed them what an excellent governor, and how great an example

and guardian of justice and of temperance they had bereft

themselves of. And now they decreed him a statue of brass, and

his bones to be buried honorably at the public charge; and for his

accusers, Agnonides they took themselves, and caused him to be put

to death. Epicurus and Demophilus, who fled from the city for

fear, his son met with, and took his revenge upon them. This son

of his, we are told, was in general of an indifferent character,

and once, when enamored of a slave girl kept by a common harlot

merchant, happened to hear Theodorus, the atheist, arguing in the

Lyceum, that if it were a good and honorable thing to buy the

freedom of a friend in the masculine, why not also of a friend in

the feminine, if, for example, a master, why not also a mistress?

So putting the good argument and his passion together, he went off

and purchased the girl's freedom. The death which was thus

suffered by Phocion, revived among the Greeks the memory of that

of Socrates, the two cases being so similar, and both equally the

sad fault and misfortune of the city.