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The Public Orations of Demosthenes, volume 1 by Demosthenes

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such atrocious villany. Now it is I that have denounced these men from the
outset, while none of them has accused me. {34} Such then was the resolution of
the Council. The meeting of the Assembly took place when Philip was already at
Thermopylae: for this was the first of all their crimes, that they placed Philip
in command of the situation, so that, when you ought first to have heard the
facts, then to have deliberated, and afterwards to have taken such measures as
you had resolved upon, you in fact heard nothing until he was on the spot, and
it was no longer easy to say what steps you ought to take. {35} In addition to
this, no one read the resolution of the Council to the people, and the people
never heard it; but Aeschines rose and delivered the harangue which I just now
described to you, recounting the numerous and important benefits which he said
he had, before his return, persuaded Philip to grant, and on account of which
the Thebans had set a price upon his head. In consequence of this, appalled
though you were at first at the proximity of Philip, and angry with these men
for not having warned you of it, you became as mild as possible, having now
formed the expectation that all your wishes would be realized; and you would not
hear a word from me or from any one else. {36} After this was read the letter
from Philip, which Aeschines had written[n] when we had left him behind, a
letter which was nothing less than a direct and express defence in writing of
the misconduct of the ambassadors. For in it is stated that Philip himself
prevented them, when they were anxious to go to the several cities and receive
the oaths, and that he retained them in order that they might help him to effect
a reconciliation between the peoples of Halus and Pharsalus. He takes upon his
own shoulders the whole of their misconduct, and makes it his own. {37} But as
to the Phocians and Thespiae, and the promises contained in Aeschines' report to
you--why, there is not the slightest mention of them! And it was no mere
accident that the proceedings took this form. For the failure of the ambassadors
to carry out or give effect to any of the instructions imposed upon them by your
resolution--the failure for which you were bound to punish them--Philip makes
himself responsible in their stead, and says that the fault was his; for you
were not likely, of course, to be able to punish _him_. {38} But the points in
regard to which Philip wished to deceive you and to steal a march upon the city
were made the subject of the defendant's report, in order that you might be able
to find no ground of accusation or reproach against Philip, since these points
were not mentioned either in his letter or in any other part of the
communications received from him. But (_to the clerk_) read the jury the actual
letter--written by Aeschines, sent by Philip; and (_to the jury_) do you observe
that it is such as I have described. (_To the clerk._) Read on.

[_The letter is read._]

{39} You hear the letter, men of Athens; you hear how noble and generous it is.
But about the Phocians or the Thebans or the other subjects of the defendant's
report--not a syllable. Indeed, in this letter there is not an honest word, as
you will very shortly see for yourselves. He says that he retained the
ambassadors to help him reconcile the people of Halus: and such is the
reconciliation that they have obtained, that they are exiles from their country,
and their city is laid waste. And as to the prisoners, though he professed to be
wondering what he could do to gratify you, he says that the idea of procuring
their release had not occurred to any one. {40} But evidence has, as you know,
been laid before you many times in the Assembly, to the effect that I myself
went to ransom them, taking a talent[n] for the purpose; and it shall now be
laid before you once more. It follows, therefore, that it was to deprive me of
my laudable ambition[n] that Aeschines persuaded Philip to insert this
statement. But the strongest point of all is this. In his former letter--the
letter which we brought back--he wrote, 'I should have mentioned expressly the
great benefits that I propose to confer upon you, if I felt sure that you would
grant me the alliance as well.' And yet when the alliance has been granted, he
says that he does not know what he can do to gratify you. He does not even know
what he had himself promised! Why, he must obviously have known that, unless he
was trying to cheat you! To prove that he did write thus and in these terms,
(_to the clerk_) take his former letter, and read the very passage, beginning at
this point. Read on.

[_An extract from the letter is read._]

{41} Thus, before he obtained the Peace, he undertook to set down in writing the
great benefits he would confer on the city, in the event of an alliance also
being granted him. But as soon as he had obtained both his wishes, he says that
he does not know what he can do to gratify you, but that if you will inform him,
he will do anything that will not involve any disgrace or stigma upon himself.
Such are the excuses in which he takes refuge, to secure his retreat, in case
you should actually make any suggestion or should be induced to ask any favour.

{42} It would have been possible to expose this whole proceeding at the time--
and a great deal more--without delay; to inform you of the facts, and to prevent
you from sacrificing your cause, had not the thought of Thespiae and Plataeae,
and the idea that the Thebans were on the very point of paying the penalty,
robbed you of the truth. While, however, there was good reason for mentioning
these prospects, if the city was to hear of them and then be cheated, it would
have been better, if their realization was actually intended, that nothing
should have been said about them. For if matters had already reached a stage at
which the Thebans would be no better off, even if they perceived the design
against them, why was the design not fulfilled? But if its fulfilment was
prevented because they perceived it in time, who was it that betrayed the
secret? {43} Must it not have been Aeschines? Its fulfilment, however, was not
in fact intended, nor did the defendant either desire or expect it; so that he
may be relieved of the charge of betraying the secret. What was intended was
that you should be hoodwinked by these statements, and should refuse to hear the
truth from me; that you should not stir from home, and that such a decree should
carry the day as would involve the destruction of the Phocians. Hence this
prodigality in promises, and their proclamation in his speech to the people.

{44} When I heard Aeschines making all these magnificent promises, I knew
perfectly well that he was lying; and I will tell you how I knew. I knew it
first, because when Philip was about to take the oath in ratification of the
Peace, the Phocians were openly excluded from it. This was a point which it
would have been natural to pass over in silence, if the Phocians were really to
be saved. And secondly, I knew it because the promises were not made by Philip's
ambassadors or in Philip's letter, but by the defendant. {45} Accordingly,
drawing my conclusions from these facts, I rose and came forward and attempted
to contradict him; but as you were not willing to hear me, I held my peace, with
no more than these words of solemn protest, which I entreat you, in Heaven's
name, to remember. 'I have no knowledge of these promises,' I said, 'and no
share in making them; and,' I added, 'I do not believe they will be fulfilled.'
This last expression roused your temper, and I proceeded, 'Take care, men of
Athens, that if any of these things comes to pass, you thank these gentlemen for
it, and give your honours and crowns to them, and not to me. If, however,
anything of an opposite character occurs, you must equally vent your anger on
them: I decline all responsibility.' {46} 'No, no!' interrupted Aeschines, 'do
not decline responsibility now! Take care rather that you do not claim credit,
when the time comes.' 'Indeed, it would be an injustice if I did so,' I replied.
Then Philocrates arose with a most insolent air, and said, 'It is no wonder, men
of Athens, that I and Demosthenes should disagree; for he drinks water, I drink
wine.' And you laughed.

{47} Now consider the decree which Philocrates proposed and handed in.[n] An
excellent resolution it sounds, as you hear it now. But when you take into
account the occasion on which it was proposed, and the promises which Aeschines
was then making, you will see that their action amounts to nothing less than a
surrender of the Phocians to Philip and the Thebans, and that, practically, with
their hands tied behind their backs. (_To the clerk._) Read the decree.

[_The decree is read._]

{48} There, men of Athens, is the decree, overflowing with expressions of
gratitude and auspicious language. 'The Peace,' it says, 'which is granted to
Philip shall be granted on the same terms to his descendants, and also the
alliance.' Again, we are 'to thank Philip for his promised acts of justice'. Yet
Philip made no promises: so far was he from making promises that he said he did
not know what he could do to gratify you. {49} It was Aeschines who spoke in his
name, and made the promises. Then Philocrates took advantage of the enthusiasm
which Aeschines' words aroused in you, to insert in the decree the clause, 'and
unless the Phocians act as they are bound, and surrender the temple to the
Amphictyons, the Athenian people will render their assistance against those who
still stand in the way of such surrender.' {50} Thus, men of Athens, at a time
when you were still at home and had not taken the field, when the Spartans had
foreseen the deception and retired, and when none of the Amphictyons were on the
spot but the Thessalians and Thebans, he proposes in the most innocent-sounding
language in the world that they shall deliver up the temple to these. For he
proposes that they shall deliver it up to the Amphictyons. But what Amphictyons?
for there were none there but the Thessalians and Thebans. He does not propose
that the Amphictyons should be convoked, or that they should wait until the
Amphictyons met or that Proxenus should render assistance in Phocis, or that the
Athenians should take the field, or anything of the sort. {51} Philip did indeed
actually send two letters to summon you.[n] But he did not intend you really to
march from Athens. Not a bit of it! For he would not have waited to summon you
until he had seen the time go by in which you could have set out; nor would he
have tried to prevent me, when I wished to set sail and return hither; nor would
he have instructed Aeschines to speak to you in the terms which would be least
likely to cause you to march. No! he intended that you should fancy that he was
about to fulfil your desires, and in that belief should abstain from any
resolution adverse to him; and that the Phocians should, in consequence, make
no defence or resistance, in reliance upon any hopes inspired by you, but should
put themselves into his hands in utter despair. (_To the clerk._) Read to the
jury the letters of Philip.

[_The letters are read._]

{52} Now these letters summon you, and that, forsooth, instantly; and it was
surely for Aeschines and his party, if the proceeding was in any way genuine, to
support the summons, to urge you to march, and to propose that Proxenus, whom
they knew to be in those parts, should render assistance at once. Yet it is
plain that their action was of precisely the opposite character; and naturally
so. For they did not attend to the terms of the letter, but to the intention
with which Philip wrote it. {53} With this intention they co-operated, and to
this they strove to give effect. As soon as the Phocians had learned the news of
your proceedings in the Assembly, and had received this decree of Philocrates,
and heard the defendant's announcement and his promises, everything combined to
effect their doom. Consider the circumstances. There were some of them who had
the wisdom to distrust Philip. These were induced to trust him. And why? Because
they believed that even if Philip were trying to deceive them ten times over,
the ambassadors of Athens, at least, would never dare to deceive their own
countrymen. This report which Aeschines had made to you must therefore be true:
it was the Thebans, and not themselves, whose hour had come. {54} There were
others who advocated resistance at all hazards; but these too were weakened in
their resolution, now that they were persuaded that they could count upon
Philip's favour, and that, unless they did as they were bidden, you, whose
assistance they were hoping for, would march against them. There was also a
third party, who thought that you repented of having made the Peace with Philip;
but to these they pointed out that you had decreed that the same Peace should
hold good for posterity also; so that on every ground, all assistance from you
was despaired of. That is why they crowded all these points into one decree.
{55} And in this lies, I think, the very greatest of all their crimes against
you. To have made a Peace with a mortal man, whose power was due to the
accidents of the moment--a Peace, whereby they covenanted that the disgrace
brought upon the city should be everlasting; to have robbed the city, not only
of all beside, but even of the benefits that Fortune might hereafter bestow: to
have displayed such superabundant villany as to have done this wicked wrong not
only to their countrymen now living, but also to all those who should ever
thereafter be born--is it not utterly atrocious? {56} And this last clause, by
which the Peace was extended to your descendants, you would certainly never have
allowed to be added to the conditions of peace had you not then placed your
trust in the promises announced by Aeschines, as the Phocians placed their trust
in them and perished. For, as you know, they delivered themselves up to Philip;
they gave their cities into his hands; and the consequences which befell them
were the exact opposite of all that Aeschines had predicted to you.

{57} That you may realize plainly that this calamity was brought about in the
manner that I have described, and that they are responsible for it, I will go
through the dates at which each separate event occurred; and if any one can
contradict me on any point, I invite him to rise and speak in the time allotted
to me. The Peace was made on the 19th of Elaphebolion, and we were away on the
mission which was sent to receive the oaths three whole months. {58} All this
time the Phocians remained unharmed. We returned from that mission on the 13th
of Scirophorion. Philip had already appeared at Thermopylae, and was making
promises to the Phocians, none of which they believed--as is proved, when you
consider that otherwise they would not have appealed to you. Then followed the
Assembly, at which, by their falsehoods and by the deception which they
practised upon you, Aeschines and his party ruined the whole cause. {59} That
was on the 16th of Scirophorion. Now I calculate that it was on the fifth day
that the report of your proceedings reached the Phocians: for the Phocian envoys
were here on the spot, and were deeply concerned to know what report these men
would make, and what your resolution would be. That gives us the 20th as the
date on which, as we calculate, the Phocians heard of your proceedings; for,
counting from the 16th, the 20th is the fifth day. Then followed the 21st, the
22nd, and the 23rd. {60} On the latter day the truce was made, and the ruin of
the Phocians was finally sealed. This can be proved as follows. On the 27th you
were holding an Assembly in the Peiraeus, to discuss the business connected with
the dockyards, when Dercylus arrived from Chalcis with the news that Philip had
put everything into the hands of the Thebans, and that this was the fifth day
since the truce had been made. 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th--the 27th is the
fifth day precisely. Thus the dates, and their reports and their proposals--
everything, in short, convicts them of having co-operated with Philip, and of
sharing with him the responsibility for the overthrow of the Phocians. {61}
Again, the fact that none of the towns in Phocis was taken by siege or by an
attack in force, and that the utter ruin of them all was the direct consequence
of their truce with Philip, affords the strongest evidence that it was the
belief inspired in the Phocians by these men, that they would be preserved from
destruction by Philip, which was the cause of their fate. Philip himself they
knew well enough. (_To the clerk._) Bring me our treaty of alliance with the
Phocians, and the decrees under which they demolished their walls. (_To the
jury._) You will then realize what were the relations between themselves and
you, upon which they relied, and what nevertheless was the fate which befell
them through the action of these accursed men. (_To the clerk._) Read.

[_The Treaty of Alliance between the Athenians and Phocians is read._]

{62} These, then, were the things for which they relied upon you--friendship,
alliance, and assistance. Now listen to what befell them, because Aeschines
prevented your going to their assistance. (_To the clerk._) Read.

[_The Agreement between Philip and the Phocians is read._]

You hear it, men of Athens. 'An Agreement between Philip and the Phocians,' it
runs--not between the Thebans and the Phocians, nor the Thessalians and the
Phocians, nor the Locrians, nor any one else who was there. Again, 'the Phocians
shall deliver up their cities to Philip'--not to the Thebans or Thessalians or
any one else. {63} And why? Because the defendant's report to you was that
Philip had crossed the Pass with a view to the preservation of the Phocians.
Thus it was Aeschines in whom all their trust was placed; it was with him in
their minds that they considered the whole situation; it was with him in their
minds that they made the Peace. (_To the clerk._) Now read the remainder. (_To
the jury._) And do you observe for what they trusted him, and what treatment
they received. Does it show any resemblance or similarity to what Aeschines
predicted in his report? (_To the clerk._) Read on.

[_The decrees of the Amphictyons are read._]

{64} Men of Athens, the horror and the immensity of this calamity have never
been surpassed in our day in the Hellenic world, nor even, I believe, in the
time before us. Yet these great and dreadful events a single man has been given
power to bring about, by the action of these men, while the city of Athens was
still in being--Athens, whose traditional policy is to stand as the champion of
the Hellenic peoples, and not to suffer anything like this to take place. The
nature of the ruin which the unhappy Phocians have suffered may be seen, not
only from these decrees, but also from the actual results of the action taken,
and an awful and piteous sight it is, men of Athens. {65} For when recently we
were on our way to Delphi[n] we could not help seeing it all--houses razed to
the ground, cities stripped of their walls, the land destitute of men in their
prime--only a few poor women and little children left, and some old men in
misery. Indeed, no words can describe the distress now prevailing there. Yet
this was the people, I hear you all saying, that once gave its vote against the
Thebans,[n] when the question of your enslavement was laid before them. {66}
What then, men of Athens, do you think would be the vote, what the sentence,
that your forefathers would give, if they could recover consciousness, upon
those who were responsible for the destruction of this people? I believe that if
they stoned them to death with their own hands, they would hold themselves
guiltless of blood. Is it not utterly shameful--does it not, if possible, go
beyond all shame--that those who saved us then, and gave the saving vote for us,
should now have met with the very opposite fate through these men, suffering as
no Hellenic people has ever suffered before, with none to hinder it? Who then is
responsible for this crime? Who is the author of this deception? Who but

{67} Of all the many reasons for which Philip might be congratulated with good
cause upon his fortune, the chief ground of congratulation is a piece of good
fortune, to which, by every Heavenly Power, I cannot find any parallel in our
days. To have captured great cities, to have reduced a vast expanse of territory
to subjection, and all similar actions, are, of course, enviable and brilliant
achievements--undeniably so. But many other persons might be mentioned who had
achieved as much. {68} The good fortune of which I am about to speak is peculiar
to Philip, and has never been given to any other. It is this--that when he
needed scoundrels to do his work for him, he found even greater scoundrels than
he wanted. For as such we have surely good reason to think of them. For when
there were falsehoods which Philip himself, in spite of the immense interests
which he had at stake, did not dare to utter on his own behalf--which he did not
set down in any of his letters, and which none of his envoys uttered--these men
sold their services for the purpose, and undertook your deception. {69}
Antipater and Parmenio, servants of a master as they were, and unlikely ever to
find themselves in your presence again, none the less secured for themselves
that _they_ should not be the instruments in your deception, while these men,
who were Athenians, citizens of the most free city, and held an official
position as your ambassadors--though they would have to meet you and look you
in the face, and pass the remainder of their lives among you, and render before
you an account of their actions--they, I say, undertook the task of deceiving
you. How could vileness or desperation go further than this?

{70} But I would have you understand further that he is under your curse, and
that you cannot, without violation of religion and piety, acquit him, when he
has thus lied to you. (_To the clerk._) Recite the Curse. Take it from me, and
read it out of the law.

[_The Curse is read._]

This imprecation is pronounced in your name, men of Athens, by the herald, at
every meeting of the Assembly, as the law appoints; and when the Council sits,
it is pronounced again there. Nor can Aeschines say that he did not know it
well. He was your under-clerk and servant to the Council, and used himself to
read this law over[n] to the herald. {71} Surely, then, you will have done a
strange and monstrous thing, men of Athens, if to-day, when you have it in your
power, you should fail to do for yourselves the thing which you enjoin upon the
gods, or rather claim from them as your due; and should acquit a man whom you
pray to the gods to destroy utterly--himself, his race and his house. You must
not do this. You may leave it to the gods to punish one whom you cannot
yourselves detect; but when you have yourselves caught the criminal, you must no
longer lay the task of punishing him upon the gods.

{72} Now I am told that he intends to carry his shamelessness and impudence so
far, as to avoid all mention of his own proceedings--his report, his promises,
the deception he has practised upon the city--as though his trial were taking
place before strangers, instead of before you, who know all the facts; and that
he intends to accuse first the Spartans,[n] then the Phocians,[n] and then
Hegesippus.[n] {73} That is mere mockery; or rather, it is atrocious
shamelessness. For all that he will allege to-day against the Phocians or the
Spartans or Hegesippus--their refusal to receive Proxenus, their impiety--let
him allege what he will--all these allegations refer, as you know, to actions
which were already past when these ambassadors returned to Athens, and which
were no obstacle to the preservation of the Phocians--the admission is made by
whom? By the defendant Aeschines himself. For what was his report on that
occasion? {74} Not that if it had not been for their refusal to receive
Proxenus, nor that if it had not been for Hegesippus, nor that if it had not
been for such and such things, the Phocians would have been saved. No! he
discarded all such qualifications, and stated expressly that before he returned
he had persuaded Philip to save the Phocians, to repeople Boeotia, and to
arrange matters to suit your convenience; that within two or three days these
things would be accomplished facts, and that for this reason the Thebans had set
a price upon his head. {75} Refuse then, to hear or to tolerate any mention of
what had already been done, either by the Spartans or by the Phocians, before he
made his report; and do not let him denounce the rascality of the Phocians. It
was not for their virtue that you once saved the Spartans, nor the Euboeans,
that accursed people! nor many others; but because the interests of the city
demanded their preservation, as they demanded that of the Phocians just now. And
what wrong was done either by the Phocians or by the Spartans, or by yourselves,
or by any one else in the world after he made those declarations, to prevent the
fulfilment of the promises which he then made? Ask him that: for that is what he
will {76} not be able to show you. It was within five days--five days and no
more--that Aeschines made his lying report, that you believed him, that the
Phocians heard of it, surrendered themselves and perished. This, I think, makes
it as plain as it can possibly be, that the ruin of the Phocians was the result
of organized deceit and trickery, and of nothing else.[n] For so long as Philip
was unable to proceed to Phocis on account of the Peace,[n] and was only waiting
in readiness to do so, he kept sending for the Spartans, promising to do all
that they wished,[n]in order that the Phocians might not win {77} them over to
their side by your help. But when he had arrived at Thermopylae, and the
Spartans had seen the trap and retired, he now sent Aeschines in advance to
deceive you, in order that he might not, owing to your perceiving that he was
playing into the hands of the Thebans, find himself once more involved in loss
of time and war and delay, through the Phocians defending themselves and your
going to their assistance, but might get everything into his power without a
struggle; and this is what has in fact happened. Do not, then, let the fact that
Philip deceived the Spartans and Phocians as well as yourselves enable Aeschines
to escape his punishment for deceiving you. That would not be just.

{78} But if he tells you that, to compensate for the Phocians and Thermopylae
and all your other losses, you have retained possession of the Chersonese, do
not, in Heaven's name, accept the plea! Do not tolerate the aggravation of all
the wrong that you have suffered through his conduct as ambassador, by the
reproach which his defence would bring upon the city--the reproach of having
sacrificed the existence of your allies, in an underhand attempt to save part of
your own possessions! You did not act thus; for when the Peace had already been
made, and the Chersonese was no longer in danger, there followed four whole
months[n] during which the Phocians remained unharmed; and it was not until
after this that the lying statements of Aeschines brought about their ruin by
deceiving you. {79} And further, you will find that the Chersonese is in much
greater danger now than it was then. For when do you think that we had the
greater facilities for punishing Philip for any trespass against the
Chersonese?--before he stole any of these advantages from the city, or now? For
my part, I think we had far greater facilities then. What, then, does this
'retention of the Chersonese' amount to, when all the fears and the risks which
attended one who would have liked to attack it have been removed?

{80} Again, I am told that he will express himself to some such effect as this--
that he cannot think why he is accused by Demosthenes, and not by any of the
Phocians. It is better that you should hear the true state of the case from me
beforehand. Of the exiled Phocians, the best, I believe, and the most
respectable, after being driven into banishment and suffering as they have
suffered, are content to be quiet, and none of them would consent to incur an
enmity which would fall upon himself, on account of the calamities of his
people: while those who would do anything for money have no one to give it to
them. {81} For assuredly _I_ would never have given any one anything whatever to
stand by my side here and cry aloud how cruelly they have suffered. The truth
and the deeds that have been done cry aloud of themselves. And as for the
Phocian people,[n] they are in so evil and pitiable a plight, that there is no
question for them of appearing as accusers at the examination of every
individual ambassador in Athens. They are in slavery, in mortal fear of the
Thebans and of Philip's mercenaries, whom they are compelled to support, broken
up into villages as they are and stripped of their arms. {82} Do not, then,
suffer him to urge such a plea. Make him prove to you that the Phocians are not
ruined, or that he did not promise that Philip would save them. For the
questions upon which the examination of an ambassador turns are these: 'What
have you effected? What have you reported? If the report is true, you may be
acquitted; if it is false, you must pay the penalty.' How can you plead the non-
appearance of the Phocians, when it was you yourself, I fancy, that brought
them, so far as it lay in your power, into such a condition that they could
neither help their friends nor repel their enemies.

{83} And further, apart from all the shame and the dishonour in which also these
proceedings are involved, it is easy to show that in consequence of them the
city has been beset with grave dangers as well. Every one of you knows that it
was the hostilities which the Phocians were carrying on, and their command of
Thermopylae, that rendered us secure against Thebes, and made it impossible that
either Philip or the Thebans should ever march into the Peloponese or into
Euboea or into Attica. {84} But this guarantee of safety which the city
possessed, arising out of the position of Thermopylae and the actual
circumstances of the time, you were induced to sacrifice by the deceptions and
the lying statements of these ambassadors--a guarantee, I say, fortified by
arms, by a continuous campaign, by great cities of allies, and by a wide tract
of territory; and you have looked on while it was swept away. Fruitless has your
first expedition to Thermopylae become--an expedition made at a cost of more
than two hundred talents, if you include the private expenditure of the
soldiers--and fruitless your hopes of triumph over Thebes! {85} But of all the
wicked services which he has done for Philip, let me tell you of that which is
in reality the greatest outrage of all upon Athens and upon you all. It is this
--that when Philip had determined from the very first to do for the Thebans all
that he has done, Aeschines, by reporting the exact opposite to you, and so
displaying to the world your antagonism to Philip's designs, has brought about
for you an increase in the enmity between yourselves and the Thebans, and for
Philip an increase in their gratitude. How could a man have treated you more
outrageously than this?

(_To the clerk._) {86} Now take and read the decrees of Diophantus[n] and
Callisthenes[n]; (_to the jury_) for I would have you realize that when you
acted as you ought, you were thought worthy to be honoured with public
thanksgivings and praises, both at home and abroad; but when once you had been
driven astray by these men, you had to bring your children and wives in from the
country, and to decree that the sacrifice to Heracles[n] should take place
within the walls, though it was a time of peace. And in view of this it is an
amazing idea, that you should dismiss unpunished a man who even prevented the
gods from receiving their worship from you after the manner of your fathers.
(_To the clerk._) Read the decree.

[_The decree of Diophantus is read._]

This decree, men of Athens, was one which your conduct nobly deserved. (_To the
clerk._) Now read the next decree.

[_The decree of Callisthenes is read._]

{87} This decree you passed in consequence of the action of these men. It was
not with such a prospect in view that you made the Peace and the alliance at the
outset, or that you were subsequently induced to insert the words which extended
them to your posterity. You expected their action to bring you benefits of
incredible value. Aye, and besides this, you know how often, after this, you
were bewildered by the report that Philip's forces and mercenaries were
threatening Porthmus or Megara. You have not then to reflect contentedly that
Philip has not yet set foot in Attica. You have rather to consider whether their
action has not given him power to do so when he chooses. It is that danger that
you must keep before your eyes, and you must execrate and punish the man who is
guilty of putting such power into Philip's hands.

{88} Now I am aware that Aeschines will eschew all defence of the actions with
which he is charged, and that, in his desire to lead you as far away as possible
from the facts, he will enumerate the great blessings which Peace brings to all
mankind, and will set against them the evils that follow in the train of war.
His whole speech will be a eulogy of peace, and in that will consist his
defence. But such an argument actually incriminates the defendant further. If
peace, which brings such blessings to all other men, has been the source of such
trouble and confusion to us, what explanation can be found, except that they
have taken bribes and have cruelly marred a thing by nature so fair? {89}
'What?' he may say, 'have you not to thank the Peace for three hundred ships,
with their fittings, and for funds which remain and will remain yours?' In
answer to this, you are bound to suppose that, thanks to the Peace, Philip's
resources too have become far more ample--aye, and his command of arms, and of
territory, and of revenues, which have accrued to him to such large amounts.
{90} We, too, have had some increase of revenue. But as for power and alliances,
by the establishment of which all men retain their advantages, either for
themselves or their masters, ours have been sold by these men--ruined and
enfeebled; while Philip's have become more formidable and extensive by far. Thus
it is not fair that while Philip has been enabled by their action to extend both
his alliances and his revenue, all that would in any case have been ours, as the
result of the Peace, should be set off against what they themselves sold to
Philip. The former did not come to us in exchange for the latter. Far from it!
For had it not been for them, not only should we have had the former, as we have
now, but we should have had the latter as well.

{91} You would doubtless admit, men of Athens, in general terms, that, on the
one hand, however many and terrible the disasters that have befallen the city,
your anger cannot justly be visited upon Aeschines, if none of them has been
caused by him; and that, on the other hand, Aeschines is not entitled to be
acquitted on account of any satisfactory results that may have been accomplished
through the action of others. You must examine the acts of Aeschines himself,
and then show him your favour if he is worthy of it, or your resentment, on the
other hand, if his acts prove to be deserving ing of that. {92} How, then, can
you solve this problem fairly? You will do so if, instead of allowing him to
confound all questions with one another--the criminal conduct of the generals,
the war with Philip, the blessings that flow from peace--you consider each
point by itself. For instance, were we at war with Philip? We were. Does any one
accuse Aeschines on that ground? Does any one wish to bring any charge against
him in regard to things that were done in the course of the war? No one
whatever. He is therefore acquitted in regard to such matters, and must not say
anything about them; for the witnesses and the proofs which a defendant produces
must bear upon the matters which are in dispute; he must not deceive you by
offering a defence upon points which are not disputed. Take care, then, that you
say nothing about the war; for no one charges you with any responsibility for
that. {93} Later on we were urged by certain persons to make peace. We
consented; we sent ambassadors; and the ambassadors brought commissioners to
Athens who were to conclude the Peace. Once more, does any one blame Aeschines
for this? Does any one allege that Aeschines introduced the proposal of peace,
or that he committed any crime in bringing commissioners here to make it? No one
whatever. He must therefore say nothing in regard to the fact that the city made
peace; for he is not responsible for that. {94} 'Then what _is_ your assertion,
sir?' I may be asked. 'At what point _do_ your charges begin?' They begin, men
of Athens, from the time when the question before you was not whether you should
make peace or not (for that had already been settled), but what sort of peace
you should make--when Aeschines opposed those who took the side of justice,
supported for a bribe the hireling mover of the decree, and afterwards, when he
had been chosen to receive the oaths, failed to carry out every one of your
instructions, destroyed those of your allies who had passed unscathed through
the war, and told you falsehoods whose enormity and grossness has never been
surpassed, either before or since. At the outset, before Philip was given a
hearing in regard to the Peace, Ctesiphon and Aristodemus took the leading part
in the work of deception; but when the time had come for action, they
surrendered their role to Philocrates and Aeschines, who took it up and ruined
everything. {95} And then, when he is bound to answer for his actions and to
give satisfaction for them--like the unscrupulous God-forsaken clerk that he
is--he will defend himself as though it were the Peace for which he was being
tried. Not that he wishes to account for more than is charged against him--that
would be lunacy. No! He sees rather that in all his own proceedings no good can
be found--that his crimes are his whole history; while a defence of the Peace,
if it has no other merits, has at least the kindly sound of the name to
recommend it. {96} I fear, indeed, men of Athens, I fear that, unconsciously, we
are enjoying this Peace like men who borrow at heavy interest. The guarantees of
its security--the Phocians and Thermopylae--they have betrayed. But, be that as
it may, it was not through _Aeschines_ that we originally made it; for,
paradoxical as it may seem, what I am about to say is absolutely true--that if
any one is honestly pleased at the Peace, it is the generals, who are
universally denounced, that he must thank for it: for had they been conducting
the war as you desired them to do, {97}you would not have tolerated even the
name of peace. For peace, then, we must thank the generals; but the perilous,
the precarious, the untrustworthy nature of the Peace is due to the corruption
of these men. Cut him off, then, cut him off, I say, from all arguments in
defence of the Peace! Set him to defend his own actions! Aeschines is not being
tried on account of the Peace. On the contrary, the Peace stands discredited
owing to Aeschines. And here is evidence of the fact:--if the Peace had been
made, and if no subsequent deception had been practised upon you, and none of
your allies had been ruined, who on earth would have been hurt by the Peace,
except in so far as it was inglorious? And for its inglorious character the
defendant in fact shares the responsibility, for he spoke in support of
Philocrates. At least no irreparable harm would have been done; whereas now, I
believe, much has been done, and the guilt rests with the defendant. {98} That
these men have been the agents in this shameful and wicked work of ruin and
destruction, I think you all know. Yet so far am I, gentlemen of the jury, from
putting any unfair construction upon these facts or asking you to do so, that if
it has been through stupidity or simplicity, or ignorance in any form whatever,
that such results have been so brought about, I acquit Aeschines myself, and I
{99} recommend you also to acquit him. At the same time none of these excuses is
either constitutional[n] or justifiable. For you neither command nor compel any
one to undertake public business; but when any one has satisfied himself of his
own capacity and has entered political life, then, like good-hearted, kindly
men, you welcome him in a friendly and ungrudging manner, and even elect him to
office and place your own interests in his hands. {100} Then, if a man succeeds,
he will receive honour and will so far have an advantage over the crowd. But if
he fails, is he to plead palliations and excuses? That is not fair. It would not
satisfy our ruined allies, or their children, or their wives, or the rest of the
victims, to know that it was through my stupidity--not to speak of the stupidity
of the defendant--that they had suffered such a fate. Far from it! {101}
Nevertheless, I bid you forgive Aeschines for these atrocious and unparalleled
crimes if he can prove that it was simplicity of mind, or any form of ignorance
whatever, which led him to work such ruin. But if it was the rascality of a man
who had taken money and bribes--if he is plainly convicted of this by the very
facts themselves--then, if it be possible, put him to death; or if not, make
him, while he lives, an example to others.

And now give your thoughts to the proof by which he is convicted on these
points, and observe how straightforward it will be.

{102} If the defendant Aeschines was not deliberately deceiving you for a price,
he must necessarily, I presume, have had one of two reasons for making the
statements in question to you, in regard to the Phocians and Thespiae and
Euboea. Either he must have heard Philip promise in express terms that such
would be his policy and the steps he would take; or else he must have been so
far bewitched and deluded by Philip's generosity in all other matters as to
conceive these further hopes of him. There is no possible alternative besides
these two. {103} Now in both these cases he, more than any living man, ought to
detest Philip. And why? Because, so far as Philip could bring it about, all that
is most dreadful and most shameful has fallen upon him. He has deceived you; his
reputation is gone [he is rightly ruined]; he is on his trial; aye, and were the
course of the proceedings in any way that which his conduct called for, he would
long ago have been impeached;[n] {104-109} whereas now, thanks to your innocence
and meekness, he presents his report, and that at the time which suits his own
wishes. I ask, then, if there is one among you who has ever heard Aeschines
raise his voice in denunciation of Philip--one, I say, who has seen Aeschines
exposing him or saying a word against him? Not one! All Athens denounces Philip
before Aeschines does so. Every one whom you meet does so, though not one of
them has been injured by him--I mean, of course, personally. On the assumption
that Aeschines had not sold himself, I should have expected to hear him use some
such expressions as these--'Men of Athens, deal with _me_ as you will. I trusted
Philip; I was deceived; I was wrong; I confess my error. But beware of _him_,
men of Athens. He is faithless--a cheat, a knave. Do you not see how he has
treated me? how he has deceived me?' {110} But I hear no such expressions fall
from him, nor do you. And why? Because he was _not_ misled; he was _not_
deceived; he made these statements, he betrayed all to Philip, because he had
sold his services and received the money for them; and gallantly and loyally has
he behaved--as Philip's hireling. But as your ambassador, as your fellow
citizen, he is a traitor who deserves to die, not once, but thrice.

{111} This is not the only evidence which proves that all those statements of
his were made for money. For, recently, the Thessalians came to you, and with
them envoys from Philip, demanding that you should decree the recognition of
Philip as one of the Amphictyons. Who then, of all men, should naturally have
opposed the demand? The defendant Aeschines. And why? Because Philip had acted
in a manner precisely contrary to the announcement which Aeschines had made to
you. {112} Aeschines declared that Philip would fortify Thespiae and Plataeae;
that he intended, not to destroy the Phocians, but to put down the insolence of
Thebes. But in fact Philip has raised the Thebans to an undue height of power,
while he has utterly destroyed the Phocians; and instead of fortifying Thespiae
and Plataeae, he has brought Orchomenus and Coroneia into the same bondage with
them. How could any contradiction be greater than this? Aeschines did not oppose
the demand. He neither opened his lips nor uttered a sound in opposition to it.
{113} But even this, monstrous as it is, is not yet the worst. For he, and he
alone, in all Athens, actually supported the demand. This not even Philocrates
dared to do, abominable as he was; it was left for the defendant Aeschines. And
when you raised a clamour and would not listen to him, he stepped down from the
platform, and, showing off before the envoys who had come from Philip, told them
that there were plenty of men who made a clamour, but few who took the field
when it was required of them--you remember the incident, no doubt--being
himself, of course, a marvellous soldier, God knows!

{114} Again, if we had been unable to prove that any of the ambassadors had
received anything--if the fact were not patent to all--we might then have
resorted to examination by torture,[n] and other such methods. But if
Philocrates not only admitted the fact frequently in your presence at the
Assembly, but used actually to make a parade of his guilt--selling wheat,
building houses, saying that he was going[n] whether you elected him or not,
importing timber, changing Macedonian gold openly at the bank--it is surely
impossible for _him_ to deny that he received money, when he himself confesses
and displays his guilt. {115} Now, is any human being so senseless or so ill-
starred that, in order that Philocrates might receive money, while he himself
incurred infamy and disgrace, he would want to fight against those upright
citizens in whose ranks he might have stood, and to take the side of Philocrates
and face a trial? I am sure that there is no such man; but in all these
considerations, if you examine them aright, you will find strong and evident
signs of the corruption of the defendant.

{116} Consider next an incident which occurred last in order of time, but which
is second to none as an indication that Aeschines had sold himself to Philip.
You doubtless know that in the course of the recent impeachment of Philocrates
by Hypereides, I came forward and expressed my dissatisfaction with one feature
of the impeachment--namely, the idea that Philocrates alone had been responsible
for all these monstrous crimes, and that the other nine ambassadors had no share
in them. I said that it was not so, for Philocrates by himself would have been
nowhere, had he not had some of them to co-operate with him. {117} 'And
therefore,' I said, 'in order that I may not personally acquit or accuse any
one, and that the guilty may be detected, and those who have had no share in the
crime acquitted by the evidence of their own conduct, let any one who wishes to
do so rise and come forward into your midst, and let him declare that he has no
share in it, and that the actions of Philocrates are displeasing to him. Any one
who does this,' I said, 'I acquit.' You remember the incident, I am sure. {118}
Well, no one came forward or showed himself. Each of the others has some excuse.
One was not liable to examination; another, perhaps, was not present; a third is
related to Philocrates. But Aeschines has no such excuse. No! So completely has
he sold himself, once for all--so plain is it that his wages are not for past
services only, but that, if he escapes now, Philip can equally count upon his
help against you in the future--that to avoid letting fall even a word that
would be unfavourable to Philip, he does not accept his discharge[n] even when
you offer to discharge him, but chooses to suffer infamy, to stand his trial and
to endure any treatment in this court, rather than to take a step that would not
please Philip. {119} But what is the meaning of this partnership, this careful
forethought for Philocrates? For if Philocrates had by his diplomacy
accomplished the most honourable results and achieved all that your interest
required, and yet admitted (as he did admit) that he had made money by his
mission, this very fact was one by which an uncorrupted colleague should have
been repelled and set him on his guard, and led to protest to the best of his
power. Aeschines has not acted in this way. Is it not all clear, men of Athens?
Do not the facts cry aloud and tell you that Aeschines has taken money, that he
is a rascal for a price, and that consistently--not through stupidity, or
ignorance, or bad luck? {120} 'But where is the witness who testifies to my
corruption?' he asks. Why, this is the finest thing of all![n] The witnesses,
Aeschines, are facts; and they are the surest of all witnesses: none can assert
or allege against them, that they are influenced by persuasion or by favour to
any one: what your treachery and mischief have made them, such, when examined,
they must appear. But, besides the facts, you shall at once bear witness against
yourself. Come, stand up[n] and answer me! Surely you will not plead that you
are so inexperienced as not to know what to say. For when, under the ordinary
limitations of time, you prosecute and win cases that have all the novelty of a
play[n]--cases, too, that have no witness to support them--you must plainly be a
speaker of tremendous genius.

{121} Many and atrocious as are the crimes of the defendant Aeschines, and great
as is the wickedness which is implied by them (as I am sure you also feel) there
is none which is more atrocious than that of which I am about to speak to you,
and none which will afford more palpable proof that he has taken bribes and sold
everything. For when once more, for the third time, you sent the ambassadors to
Philip on the strength of those high and noble expectations which the
defendant's promises had roused, you elected both Aeschines and myself, and most
of those whom you had previously sent. {122} For my part I came forward and
declined upon oath to serve;[n] and though some raised a clamour and bade me go,
I declared that I would not; but the defendant had already been elected.
Afterwards, when the Assembly had risen, he and his party met and discussed whom
they should leave behind in Athens. For while everything was still in suspense,
and the future doubtful, there were all kinds of gatherings and discussions in
the market-place. {123} They were afraid, no doubt, that a special meeting of
the Assembly might suddenly be called, and that you might then hear the truth
from me, and pass some of the resolutions which it was your duty to pass in the
interest of the Phocians, and that so Philip's object might slip from his grasp.
For had you merely passed a resolution and shown them the faintest ray of hope
of any kind, the Phocians would have been saved. It was absolutely impossible
for Philip to stay where he was, unless you were misled. There was no corn in
the country, for, owing to the war, the land had not been sown; and to import
corn was impossible so long as your ships were there and in command of the sea;
while the Phocian towns were many in number, and difficult to take except by a
prolonged siege. Even assuming that he were taking a town a day, there are two
and twenty of them. {124} For all these reasons they left Aeschines in Athens,
to guard against any alteration of the course which you had been deluded into
taking. Now to decline upon oath to serve, without any cause, was a dangerous
and highly suspicious proceeding. 'What?' he would have been asked, 'are you not
going on the mission which is to secure all those wonderful good things which
you have foretold?' Yet he was bound to remain. How could it be done? He pleads
illness. His brother took with him Execestus the physician, came before the
Council, swore that Aeschines was too ill to serve, and was himself elected in
his place. {125} Five or six days later the ruin of the Phocians had been
accomplished, and Aeschines' contract--a mere matter of business--had been
fulfilled. Dercylus turned back, and on his arrival here from Chalcis announced
to you the destruction of the Phocians, while you were holding an Assembly in
the Peiraeus. On hearing the news you were naturally struck with sympathy for
them, and with terror for yourselves. You passed resolutions to bring in your
children and wives from the country, to repair the garrison-forts, to fortify
the Peiraeus, and to celebrate the sacrifice to Heracles within the city walls:
{126} and in the midst of all this, in the midst of the confusion and the tumult
which had fallen upon the city, this learned and able speaker, so loud of voice,
though not elected[n] either by the Council or by the people, set off as
ambassador to the man who had wrought the destruction, taking no account of the
illness which he had previously made his excuse, upon oath, for not serving, nor
of the election of another ambassador in his place, nor of the law which imposes
the penalty of death for such offences; {127} nor yet reflecting how utterly
atrocious it was, that after announcing that the Thebans had placed a price on
his head, he should choose the moment when the Thebans had (in addition to all
Boeotia, which they already possessed) become masters of the territory of the
Phocians as well, to go into the very midst of Thebes, and into the very camp of
the Thebans. But so beside himself was he, so utterly bent upon his profits and
his bribe, that he ruled out and overlooked all such considerations, and took
his departure.

{128} Such was the nature of this transaction; and yet his proceedings when he
arrived at his destination are far worse. All of you who are present, and all
other Athenians as well, thought the treatment of the unhappy Phocians so
atrocious and so cruel that you sent to the Pythian games neither the official
deputation from the Council, nor the Thesmothetae,[n] but abandoned that ancient
representation of yourselves at the festival. But Aeschines went to the
triumphal feast[n] with which the Thebans and Philip were celebrating the
victory of their cause and their arms. He joined in the festival: he shared in
the libations and the prayers which Philip offered over the ruined walls and
country and arms of your allies: with Philip he set garlands on his head, and
raised the paean, and drank the loving-cup. {129} Nor is it possible for the
defendant to give a different version of the facts from that which I have given.
As regards his sworn refusal to serve, the facts are in your public records in
the Metroon,[n] guarded by your officer; and a decree stands recorded with
express reference to the name of Aeschines.[n] And as for his conduct there, his
fellow ambassadors, who were present, will bear witness against him. They told
me the story; for I was not with them on this Embassy, having entered a sworn
refusal to serve.

(_To the clerk._) {130} Now read me the resolution [and the record], and call
the witnesses.

[_The decree is read, and the witnesses called._]

What prayers, then, do you imagine Philip offered to the gods, when he poured
his libation, or the Thebans? Did they not ask them to give success in war, and
victory, to themselves and their allies, and the contrary to the allies of the
Phocians? In these prayers, therefore--in these imprecations upon his own
country--Aeschines joined. It is for you to return them upon his own head to-

{131} His departure, then, was a contravention of the law which imposes the
penalty of death for the offence, and it has been shown that on his arrival he
acted in a manner for which he deserves to die again and again, while his former
proceedings and the work which he did as ambassador, in their interest,[n] would
justly slay him. Ask yourselves what penalty can be found, which will adequately
atone for all these crimes? {132} It would surely be shameful, men of Athens,
that while all of you, and the whole people, denounce publicly all the
consequences of the Peace; while you decline to take part in the business of the
Amphictyons; while your attitude towards Philip is one of vexation and mistrust,
because the deeds that have been done are impious and atrocious, instead of
righteous and advantageous to you; that nevertheless, when you have come into
court as the sworn representatives of the State, to sit in judgement upon the
report of these proceedings, you should acquit the author of all the evil, when
you have taken him red-handed in actions like these. {133} Who is there of all
your fellow citizens--nay, who of all the Hellenes--that would not have good
cause for complaint against you, when he saw that though you were enraged
against Philip, who in making peace after war was merely purchasing the means to
his end from those who offered them for sale--a very pardonable transaction--you
were yet acquitting Aeschines, who sold your interests in this shameful manner,
notwithstanding the extreme penalties which the laws appoint for such conduct?

{134} Now it is possible that an argument may also be used by the other side to
some such effect as this--that the condemnation of those whose diplomacy brought
about the Peace will mean the beginning of enmity with Philip. If this is true,
then, I can imagine, upon consideration, no more serious charge that I could
bring against the defendant, than this. If Philip, who spent his money on the
Peace which he wished to obtain, has become so formidable, so powerful, that you
have already ceased to regard your oaths and the justice of the case, and are
seeking how you can gratify Philip, what penalty, that those who are responsible
for this could suffer, would be adequate to the offence? {135} I believe,
however, that I shall actually show you that it would more probably mean the
beginning of a friendship, advantageous to you. For you must be well assured,
men of Athens, that Philip does not despise your city; nor was it because he
regarded you as less serviceable than the Thebans, that he preferred them to
you. No! {136} He had been instructed by these men and had heard from them, what
I once told you in the Assembly, without contradiction from any of them, that
the People is the most unstable thing in the world, and the most incalculable,
inconstant as a wave of the sea, stirred by any chance wind. One comes, another
goes; but no one cares for the public interest, or remembers it. Philip needs
(he is told) friends upon whom he can rely to execute and manage his business
with you--such friends, for instance, as his informant.[n] If this were secured
for him, he would easily effect all that he desired in Athens. {137} Now if he
heard that those who had used such language to him had immediately upon their
return been beaten to death, he would doubtless have behaved as the Persian king
did. And how was this? He had been deceived by Timagoras,[n] and had given him,
it is said, forty talents; but when he heard that Timagoras had been put to
death here, and had not even power to secure his own life, much less to carry
out the promises he had made to him, he recognized that he had not paid the
price to the man who had the power to effect his object. For first, as you know,
he sent a dispatch, acknowledging once more your title to Amphipolis, which he
had previously described as in alliance and friendship with himself; and
secondly, he thenceforward wholly abstained from giving money to any one. {138}
This is exactly what Philip would have done, if he had seen that any of these
men had paid the penalty, and what, if he sees it, he will still do. But when he
hears that they address you, and enjoy a high reputation with you, and prosecute
others, what is he to do? Is he to seek to spend much, when he can spend less?
or to desire to court the favour of all, when he need but court two or three?
That would be madness. For even those public benefits which Philip conferred
upon the Thebans he conferred not from choice-- far from it--but because he was
induced to do so by their ambassadors; and I will tell you how. {139}
Ambassadors came to him from Thebes just at the time when we were there upon our
mission from you. Philip wished to give them money, and that (so they said) in
very large amounts. The Theban ambassadors would not accept or receive it. After
that, while drinking at a sacrificial banquet and displaying his generosity
towards them, Philip offered, as he drank to them, presents of many kinds--
captives and the like--and finally he offered them goblets of gold and silver.
All these they steadily refused, declining to put themselves in his power in any
way. {140} At last Philo, one of the ambassadors, made a speech, men of Athens,
which was worthy to be made in the name, not of Thebes, but of yourselves. For
he said that it gave them pleasure and delight to see the magnanimous and
generous attitude of Philip towards them; but for their own personal part, they
were already his good friends even without these presents; and they begged him
to apply his generosity to the existing political situation of their country,
and to do something worthy of himself and Thebes, promising that, if he did so,
their whole city, as well as themselves, would become attached to him. {141} And
now observe what the Thebans have gained by this, and what consequences have
followed; and contemplate in a real instance the advantages of refusing to sell
your country's interests. First of all, they obtained peace when they were
already distressed and suffering from the war, in which they were the losing
side. Next, they secured the utter ruin of their enemies, the Phocians, and the
complete destruction of their walls and towns. And was this all? No, indeed! For
besides all this they obtained Orchomenus, Coroneia, Corsia, the Tilphossaeum,
and as much of the territory of the Phocians as they desired. {142} This then
was what the Thebans gained by the Peace; and surely no more could they have
asked even in their prayers. And the ambassadors of Thebes gained--what? Nothing
but the credit of having brought this good fortune to their country; and a noble
reward it was, men of Athens, a proud record on the score of merit and honour--
that honour which Aeschines and his party sold for money. Let us now set against
one another the consequences of the Peace to the city of Athens and to the
Athenian ambassadors respectively; and then observe whether its effects have
been similar in the case of the city and of these men personally. {143} The city
has surrendered all her possessions and all her allies; she has sworn to Philip
that even if another approaches them to preserve them for her, you will prevent
him; that you will consider any one who wishes to give them up to you as your
enemy and foe, and the man who has robbed you of them as your ally and friend.
{144} That is the resolution which Aeschines supported, and which was moved by
his accomplice Philocrates; and although on the first day I was successful, and
had persuaded you to ratify the decree of the allies and to summon Philip's
envoys,[n] the defendant forced an adjournment of the question till the next
day, and persuaded you to adopt the resolution of Philocrates, in which these
proposals, and many others even more atrocious, are made. {145} These were the
consequences of the Peace to Athens. It would not be easy to devise anything
more shameful. What were the consequences to the ambassadors who brought these
things about? I say nothing of all that you have seen for yourselves--the
houses, the timber, the wheat. But they also possess properties and extensive
estates in the country of your ruined allies, bringing in incomes of a talent to
Philocrates and thirty minae to the defendant. {146} Yet surely, men of Athens,
it is an atrocious and a monstrous thing, that the calamities of your allies
should have become sources of revenue to your ambassadors, and that the same
Peace which to the city that sent them meant the ruin of her allies, the
surrender of her possessions, and shame in the place of honour, should have
created for the ambassadors who brought these things to pass against their
country, revenue, affluence, property, and wealth, in the place of abject
poverty. To prove, however, that what I am telling you is true (_to the clerk_)
call me the witnesses from Olynthus.

[_The witnesses are called._]

{147} Now I should not wonder if he even dared to make some such statement as
this--that the Peace which we were making could not have been made an honourable
one, or such as I demanded, because our generals had mismanaged the war. If he
argues thus, then remember, in Heaven's name, to ask him whether[n] it was from
some other city that he went as ambassador, or from this city itself? If it was
from some other, to whose success in war and to whose excellent generals he can
point, then it was natural for him to take Philip's money: but if it was from
Athens itself, why do we find him taking presents as part of a transaction which
involved the surrender of her possessions by the city which sent him? For in any
honest transaction the city that sent the ambassadors ought to have shared the
same fortune as the ambassadors whom she sent. {148} Consider also this further
point, men of Athens. Do you think that the successes of the Phocians against
the Thebans in the war, or the successes of Philip against you, were the more
considerable? Those of the Phocians against the Thebans, I am quite certain. At
least, they held Orchomenus and Coroneia and the Tilphossaeum;[n] they had
intercepted the Theban garrison at Neones;[n] they had slain two hundred of them
on Hedyleum;[n] a trophy had been raised, their cavalry were victorious, and a
whole Iliad of misfortunes had beset the Thebans. You were in no such position
as this, and may you never be so in the future! Your most serious disadvantage
in your hostilities with Philip was your inability to inflict upon him all the
damage that you desired; you were completely secure against suffering any harm
yourselves. How is it then that, as the result of one and the same Peace, the
Thebans, who were being so badly worsted in the war, have recovered their own
possessions and, in addition, have gained those of their enemies; while you, the
Athenians, have lost under the Peace even what you retained safely through the
war? It is because their ambassadors did not sell their interests, while these
men have sold yours. [Ah! he will say,[n] but the allies were exhausted by the
war....]. That this is how these things were accomplished, you will realize
still more clearly from what I have yet to say.

{150}For when this Peace was concluded--the Peace of Philocrates, which
Aeschines supported--and when Philip's envoys had set sail, after receiving the
oaths from us--and up to this time nothing that had been done was irreparable,
for though the Peace was disgraceful and unworthy of Athens, still we were to
get those marvellous good things in return--then I say, I asked and told the
ambassadors to sail as quickly as possible to the Hellespont, and not to
sacrifice any of our positions there, nor allow Philip to occupy them in the
interval. {151} For I knew very well that everything that is sacrificed when
peace is in process of being concluded after war, is lost to those who are so
neglectful; since no one who had been induced to make peace with regard to the
situation as a whole ever yet made up his mind to fight afresh for the sake of
possessions which had been left unsecured; such possessions those who first take
them keep. And, apart from this, I thought that, if we sailed, the city could
not fail to secure one of two useful results. Either, when we were there and had
received Philip's oath according to the decree, he would restore the possessions
of Athens which he had taken, and keep his hands off the rest; {152} or, if he
did not do so, we should immediately report the fact to you here, and so, when
you saw his grasping and perfidious disposition in regard to those your remoter
and less important interests, you would not in dealing with greater matters
close at hand--in other words, with the Phocians and Thermopylae--let anything
be lost. If he failed to forestall you in regard to these, and you were not
deceived, your interests would be completely secured, and he would give you your
rights without hesitation. {153} And I had good reason for such expectations.
For if the Phocians were still safe and sound, as they then were, and were in
occupation of Thermopylae, Philip would have had no terror to brandish before
you, which could make you overlook any of your rights. For he was not likely
either to make his way through by land, or to win a victory by sea, and so reach
Attica; while if he refused to act as was right, you would instantly close his
ports, reduce him to straits for money and other supplies, and place him in a
state of siege; and in that case it would be he, and not you, to whom the
advantages of peace would be the overmastering consideration. {154} And that I
am not inventing this or claiming wisdom after the event--that I knew it at
once, and, with your interest in view, foresaw what must happen and told my
colleagues--you will realize from the following facts. When there was no longer
any meeting of the Assembly available (since you had used up all the appointed
days) and still the ambassadors did not depart, but wasted time here, I proposed
a decree as a member of the Council, to which the people had given full powers,
that the ambassadors should depart directly, and that the admiral Proxenus
should convey them to any district in which he should ascertain Philip to be. My
proposal was just what I now tell you, couched expressly in those terms. (_To
the clerk_.) Take this decree and read it.

[_The decree is read_.]

{155} I brought them away, then, from Athens, sorely against their will, as you
will clearly understand from their subsequent conduct. When we reached Oreus and
joined Proxenus, instead of sailing and following their instructions, they made
a circuitous journey by land, and before we reached Macedonia we had spent three
and twenty days. All the rest of the time, until Philip's arrival, we were
sitting idle at Pella; and this, with the journey, brought the time up to fifty
days in all. {156} During this interval, in a time of peace and truce, Philip
was taking Doriscus,[n] Thrace, the district towards the Walls, the Sacred
Mountain--everything, in fact, and making his own arrangements there; while I
spoke out repeatedly and insistently, first in the tone of a man giving his
opinion to his colleagues, then as though I were informing the ignorant, till at
last I addressed them without any concealment as men who had sold themselves and
were the most impious of mankind. {157} And the man who contradicted me openly
and opposed everything which I urged and which your decree enjoined, was
Aeschines. Whether his conduct pleased all the other ambassadors as well, you
will know presently; for as yet I allege nothing about any of them, and make no
accusation: no one of them need appear an honest man to-day because I oblige him
to do so, but only of his own free will, and because he was no partner in
Aeschines' crimes. That the conduct in question was disgraceful, atrocious,
venal, you have all seen. Who were the partners in it, the facts will show.

{158} 'But of course, during this interval they received the oaths from Philip's
allies, or carried out their other duties.' Far from it! For though they had
been absent from home three whole months, and received 1,000 drachmae from you
for their expenses, they did not receive the oaths from a single city, either on
their journey to Macedonia, or on the way back. It was in the inn before the
temple of the Dioscuri--any one who has been to Pherae will understand me--when
Philip was already on the march towards Athens at the head of an army, that the
oaths were taken, in a fashion which was disgraceful, men of Athens, and
insulting to you. {159} To Philip, however, it was worth anything that the
transaction should have been carried out in this form. These men had failed in
their attempt to insert among the terms of the Peace the clause which excluded
the people of Halus and Pharsalus; Philocrates had been forced by you to expunge
the words, and to write down expressly 'the Athenians and the allies of the
Athenians'; and Philip did not wish any of his own allies to have taken such an
oath; for then they would not join him in his campaign against those possessions
of yours which he now holds, but would plead their oaths in excuse; {160} nor
did he wish them to be witnesses of the promises on the strength of which he was
obtaining the Peace. He did not wish it to be revealed to the world that the
city of Athens had not, after all, been defeated in the war, and that it was
Philip who was eager for peace, and was promising to do great things for Athens
if he obtained it. It was just to prevent the revelation of these facts that he
thought it inadvisable that the ambassadors should go to any of the cities;
while for their part, they sought to gratify him in everything, with
ostentatious and extravagant obsequiousness. {161} But when all this is proved
against them--their waste of time, their sacrifice of your position in Thrace,
their complete failure to act in accordance either with your decree or your
interests, their lying report to you--how is it possible that before a jury of
sane men, anxious to be true to their oath, Aeschines can be acquitted? To
prove, however, that what I say is true (_to the clerk_), first read the decree,
under which it was our duty to exact the oaths, then Philip's letter, and then
the decree of Philocrates and that of the people.

[_The decrees and letter are read._]

{162} And now, to prove that we should have caught Philip in the Hellespont, had
any one listened to me, and carried out your instructions as contained in the
decrees, (_to the clerk_) call the witnesses who were there on the spot.

[_The witnesses are called._]

(_To the clerk._) Next read also the other deposition--Philip's answer to
Eucleides,[n] who is present here, when he went to Philip afterwards.

[_The deposition is read._]

{163} Now listen to me, while I show that they cannot even deny that it was to
serve Philip's interest that they acted as they did. For when we set out on the
First Embassy--that which was to discuss the Peace--you dispatched a herald in
advance to procure us a safe conduct. Well, on that occasion, as soon as ever
they had reached Oreus, they did not wait for the herald, or allow any time to
be lost; but though Halus was being besieged, they sailed there direct, and
then, leaving the town again, came to Parmenio, who was besieging it, set out
through the enemy's camp to Pagasae, and, continuing their journey, only met the
herald at Larissa: with such eager haste did they proceed. {164} But at a time
when there was peace and they had complete security for their journey and you
had instructed them to make haste, it never occurred to them either to quicken
their pace or to go by sea. And why? Because on the former occasion Philip's
interest demanded that the Peace should be made as soon as possible; whereas now
it required that as long an interval as possible should be wasted before the
oaths were taken. {165} To prove that this is so, (_to the clerk_) take and read
this further deposition.

[_The deposition is read._]

How could men be more clearly convicted of acting to serve Philip's interest
throughout, than by the fact that they sat idle, when in your interest they
ought to have hurried, on the very same journey over which they hastened onward,
without even waiting for the herald, when they ought not to have moved at all?

{166} Now observe how each of us chose to conduct himself while we were there,
sitting idle at Pella. For myself, I chose to rescue and seek out the captives,
spending my own money and asking Philip to procure their ransom[n] with the sums
which he was offering us in the form of presents. How Aeschines passed his whole
time you shall hear presently. {167} What then was the meaning of Philip's
offering money to us in common? He kept sounding us all--for this too I would
have you know. And how? He sent round privately to each of us, and offered us,
men of Athens, a very large sum in gold. But when he failed in a particular case
(for I need not mention my own name myself, since the proceedings and their
results will of themselves show to whom I refer), he thought that we should all
be innocent enough to accept what was given to us in common; and then, if we all
alike had a share, however small, in the common present, those who had sold
themselves privately would be secure. {168} Hence these offers, under the guise
of presents to his guest-friends. And when I prevented this, my colleagues
further divided among themselves the sum thus offered. But when I asked Philip
to spend this sum on the prisoners, he could neither, without discredit,
denounce my colleagues, and say, 'But So-and-so has the money, and So-and-so,'
nor yet evade the expense. So he gave the promise, but deferred its fulfilment,
saying that he would send the prisoners home in time for the Panathenaea. (_To
the clerk._) Read the evidence of Apollophanes, and then that of the rest of
those present.

[_The evidence is read._]

{169} Now let me tell you how many of the prisoners I myself ransomed. For while
we were sitting waiting there at Pella, before Philip's arrival, some of the
captives--all, in fact, who were out on bail--not trusting, I suppose, my
ability to persuade Philip to act as I wished, said that they wished to ransom
themselves, and to be under no obligation to Philip for their freedom: and they
borrowed, one three minae, another five, and another--whatever the amount of the
ransom was in each case. {170} But when Philip had promised that he would ransom
the rest, I called together those to whom I had advanced the money; I reminded
them of the circumstances; and, lest they should seem to have suffered by their
impatience, and to have been ransomed at their own cost, poor men as they were,
when all their comrades expected to be set free by Philip, I made them a present
of their ransom. To prove that I am speaking the truth, (_to the clerk_) read
these depositions.

[_The depositions are read._]

{171} These, then, are the sums which I excused them, and gave as a free gift to
fellow citizens who had met with misfortune. And so, when Aeschines says
presently, in his speech to you, 'Demosthenes, if, as you say, you knew, from
the time when I supported Philocrates' proposal, that we were acting altogether
dishonestly, why did you go again as our colleague on the subsequent mission to
take the oaths, instead of entering a sworn excuse?' remember this, that I had
promised those whose freedom I had procured that I would bring them their
ransom, and deliver them to the best of my power. {172} It would have been a
wicked thing to break my word and abandon my fellow citizens in their
misfortune; while, on the other hand, if I had excused myself upon oath from
service, it would not have been altogether honourable, nor yet safe, to make a
tour there in a private capacity. For let destruction, utter and early, fall
upon me, if I would have joined in a mission with these men for a very large sum
of money, had it not been for my anxiety to rescue the prisoners. It is a proof
of this, that though you twice elected me to serve on the Third Embassy, I twice
swore an excuse. And all through the journey in question my policy was entirely
opposed to theirs. {173} All, then, that it was within my own power to decide in
the course of my mission resulted as I have described; but wherever in virtue of
their majority they gained their way, all has been lost. And yet, had there been
any who listened to me, all would have been accomplished in a manner congruous
with my own actions. For I was not so pitiful a fool as to give away money, when
I saw others receiving it, in my ambition to serve you, and yet not to desire
what could have been accomplished without expense, and would have brought far
greater benefits to the whole city. I desired it intensely, men of Athens; but,
of course, they had the advantage over me.

{174} Come now and contemplate the proceedings of Aeschines and those of
Philocrates, by the side of my own; for the comparison will bring out their
character more vividly. Well, they first pronounced the exclusion from the Peace
of the Phocians and the people of Halus, and of Cersobleptes, contrary to your
decree and to the statements made to you. Then they attempted to tamper with and
alter the decree, which we had come there as ambassadors to execute. Then they
entered the Cardians as allies of Philip and voted against sending the dispatch
which I had written to you, sending in its stead an utterly unsound dispatch of
their own composition. {175} And then the gallant gentleman asserted that I had
promised Philip that I would overthrow your constitution, because I censured
these proceedings, not only from a sense of their disgracefulness, but also from
fear lest through the fault of these men I might have to share their ruin: while
all the time he was himself having incessant private interviews with Philip.
And, to pass over all besides, Dercylus (not I) watched him through the night at
Pherae, along with my slave who is here present; and as the slave came out of
Philip's tent he took him and bade him report what he had seen, and remember it
himself; and finally, this disgusting and shameless fellow was left behind with
Philip for a night and a day, when we went away. {176} And to prove that I am
speaking the truth, I will myself give evidence which I have committed to
writing,[n] so as to put myself in the position of a responsible witness; and
after that I call upon each of the other ambassadors, and I will compel them to
choose their alternative--either to give evidence, or to swear that they have no
knowledge of the matter. If they take the latter course, I shall convict them of
perjury beyond doubt.

[_Evidence is read._]

{177} You have seen now by what mischief and trouble I was hampered, throughout
our absence from home. For what must you imagine their conduct to have been
there, with their paymaster close at hand, when they act as they do before your
very eyes, though you have power either to confer honour or, on the other hand,
to inflict punishment upon them?

I wish now to reckon up from the beginning the charges which I have made, in
order to show you that I have done all that I undertook to do at the beginning
of my speech. {178} I have proved that there was no truth in his report--that,
on the contrary, he deceived you--by the evidence not of words but of the actual
course of events. I have proved that he was the cause of your unwillingness to
hear the truth from my mouth, captivated as you were at the time by his promises
and undertakings; that he gave you advice which was the exact opposite of that
which he ought to have given, opposing the Peace which was suggested by the
allies, and advocating the Peace of Philocrates; that he wasted time, in order
that you might not be able to march to the aid of the Phocians, even if you
wished to do so; and that he has done many atrocious deeds during his absence
from home; for he has betrayed and sold everything, he has taken bribes, and has
left no form of rascality untried. These are the points which I promised at the
outset to prove, and I have proved them. {179} Observe, then, what follows; for
what I have now to say to you has already become a simple matter. You have sworn
that you will vote according to the laws and the decrees of the people and the
Council of Five Hundred. The defendant is proved, in all his conduct as
ambassador, to have acted in contravention of the laws, of the decrees, and of
justice. He ought, therefore, to be convicted in any court composed of rational
men. Even if there were no other crimes at his door, two of his actions are
sufficient to slay him; for he betrayed to Philip not only the Phocians but also
Thrace. {180} Two places in the whole world of greater value to Athens than
Thermopylae on land, and the Hellespont over sea, could not possibly be found;
and both these places these men have shamefully sold, and placed in Philip's
hands to be used against you. The enormity of this crime alone--the sacrifice of
Thrace and the Walls--apart from all the rest, might be proved in countless
ways,[n] and it is easy to point out how many men have been executed or fined
vast sums of money by you for such offences--Ergophilus,[n] Cephisodotus,[n]
Timomachus,[n] Ergocles[n] long ago, Dionysius, and others; all of whom
together, I may almost say, have done the city less harm than the defendant.
{181} But in those days, men of Athens, you still guarded against danger by
calculation and forethought; whereas now you overlook any danger which does not
annoy you from day to day, or cause you pain by its immediate presence, and then
pass such resolutions here as 'that Philip shall take the oath in favour of
Cersobleptes also,' 'that we will not take part in the proceedings of the
Amphictyons,' 'that we must amend the Peace.' But none of these resolutions
would have been required, had Aeschines then been ready to sail and to do what
was required. As it is, by urging us to go by land, he has lost all that we
could have saved by sailing; and by lying, all that could have been saved by
speaking the truth.

{182} He intends, I am told, to express immediately his indignation that he
alone of all the speakers in the Assembly should have to render an account of
his words. I will not urge that all speakers would reasonably be called upon to
render such an account, if any of their words were spoken for money; I only say
this. If Aeschines in his private capacity has spoken wildly on some occasion or
committed some blunder, do not be over-strict with him, but let it pass and
grant him pardon: but if as your ambassador he has deliberately deceived you for
money, then do not let him go, or tolerate the plea that he ought not to be
called to account for what he _said_. {183} Why, for what, if not for his words,
is an ambassador to be brought to justice? Ambassadors have no control over
ships or places or soldiers or citadels--no one puts such things in their
hands--but over words and times. As regards times, if he did not cause the times of
the city's opportunities to be lost, he is not guilty; but if he did so, he has
committed crime. And as to his words, if the words of his report were true or
expedient, let him escape; but if they were at once false, venal, and
disastrous, let him be convicted. {184} No greater wrong can a man do you, than
is done by lying speeches. For where government is based upon speeches, how can
it be carried on in security, if the speeches are not true? and if, in
particular, a speaker takes bribes and speaks to further the interests of the
enemy, how can you escape real danger? For to rob you of your opportunities is
not the same thing as to rob an oligarchy or a tyrant. Far from it. {185} Under
such governments, I imagine, everything is done promptly at a word of command.
But with you the Council must first hear about everything, and pass its
preliminary resolution--and even that not at any time, but only when notice has
been given of the reception of heralds and embassies: then you must convoke an
Assembly, and that only when the time comes for one, as ordained by law: then
those who speak for your true good have to master and overcome those who,
through ignorance or wickedness, oppose them. {186} Besides all this, even when
a measure is resolved upon, and its advantages are already plain, time must be
granted to the impecuniosity of the majority, in which they may procure whatever
means they require in order to be able to carry out what has been resolved. And
so he who causes times so critical to be lost, in a state constituted as ours
is, has not caused you to lose times, but has robbed you absolutely of the
realization of your aims.

{187} Now all those who are anxious to deceive you are very ready with such
expressions as 'disturbers of the city,' 'men who prevent Philip from conferring
benefits on the city.' In reply to these, I will use no argument, but will read
you Philip's letters, and will remind you of the occasion on which each piece of
deception took place, that you may know that Philip has got beyond this
exaggerated title of 'benefactor',[n] of which we are so sickened, in his
attempts to take you in by it.

[_Philip's letters are read._]

{188} Now although his work as ambassador has been so shameful, so detrimental
to you in many--nay, in all points, he goes about asking people what they think
of Demosthenes, who prosecutes his own colleagues. I prosecute you indeed,
whether I would or no, because throughout our entire absence from home you
plotted against me as I have said, and because now I have the choice of only two
alternatives: either I must appear to share with you the responsibility for such
work as yours, or I must prosecute you. {189} Nay, I deny that I was ever your
colleague in the Embassy. I say that your work as ambassador was an atrocious
work, while my own was for the true good of those present here. It is
Philocrates that has been your colleague, as you have been his, and Phrynon. For
your policy was the same as theirs, and you all approved of the same objects.
But 'where are the salt, the table, the libations that we shared?' So he asks
everywhere in his theatrical style--as though it were not the criminals, but the
upright, that were false to such pledges! {190} I am certain that though all the
Prytanes offer their common sacrifice on each occasion, and join one with
another in their meal and their libation, the good do not on this account copy
the bad; but if they detect one of their own number in crime they report the
fact to the Council and the people. In the very same way the Council offers its
inaugural sacrifice and feasts together, and joins in libations and sacred
rites. So do the generals, and, one may practically say, every body of
magistrates. Does that mean that they grant an indemnity to any of their number
who is guilty of crime? Very far from it. {191} Leon accuses Timagoras,[n] after
being his fellow ambassador for four years: Eubulus accuses Tharrex and
Smicythus, after sharing the banquet with them: the great Conon, the elder,
prosecuted Adeimantus,[n] though they were generals together. Which sinned
against the salt and the libation, Aeschines--the traitors and the faithless
ambassadors and the hirelings, or their accusers? Plainly those who violated, as
you have done, the sanctity, not of private libations, but of libations poured
in the name of the whole country.

{192} That you may realize that these men have been the most worthless and
wicked not only of all who have ever gone to Philip in a public capacity, but
even of those who have gone as private persons, and indeed of all mankind, I ask
you to listen to me while I describe briefly an incident which falls outside the
story of this Embassy. When Philip took Olynthus he celebrated Olympian games,
and gathered together all the artists to the sacrifice and the festal gathering.
{193} And while he was entertaining them at a banquet, and crowning the victors,
he asked Satyrus, the well-known comic actor, why he alone requested no favour
of him. Did he see any meanness in him, or any dislike towards himself? Satyrus
answered (so the story goes) that he happened to stand in no need of the things
for which the rest were asking, but that the boon which he would like to ask was
a favour which it would be very easy indeed for Philip to bestow; only he was
afraid that he might fail to obtain it. {194} Philip bade him name his request,
declaring with some spirit that there was nothing that he would not do for him.
Satyrus is then said to have stated that Apollophanes of Pydna was formerly his
friend and guest-friend,[n] and that when he had perished by a treacherous
assassination, his kinsman had, in alarm, conveyed his daughters, then little
children, to Olynthus secretly. 'These girls,' said Satyrus, 'have been taken
prisoners at the capture of the city; they are with you, and they are now of
marriageable age. {195} It is these girls that I beg and entreat you to give to
me. But I should like you to hear and understand what sort of present you will
be giving me, if you really give it. I shall gain nothing by receiving it: I
shall give them in marriage, and a dowry with them, and shall not allow them to
suffer anything unworthy of us or of their father.' When those who were present
at the feast heard this, there was such applause and cheering and approbation on
all hands, that Philip was moved and granted the request, although the
Apollophanes who was spoken of was one of the murderers of Alexander, Philip's
brother. {196} Now let us examine side by side with this banquet of Satyrus,
that in which these men took part in Macedonia. Observe what likeness and
resemblance there is between the two! For these men were invited to the house of
Xenophron, the son of Phaedimus, who was one of the Thirty,[n] and went. I did
not go. But when it came to the time for wine, he brought in an Olynthian woman
--good-looking, but well-bred and modest, as the event proved. {197} At first, I
believe (according to the account which Iatrocles gave me the next day), they
only forced her to drink a little wine quietly and to eat some dessert; but as
the feast proceeded and they waxed warm, they bade her recline and even sing a
song. And when the poor creature, who was in great distress, neither would nor
could do as they bade her, Aeschines and Phrynon declared that it was an insult
and quite intolerable, that a captive woman--one of those god-forsaken devils
the Olynthians--should give herself airs. 'Call a slave,' they cried, 'and let
some one bring a strap.' A servant came with a lash; they had been drinking, I
imagine, and were easily annoyed; and as soon as she said something and burst
into tears, the servant tore open her dress and gave her a number of cuts across
the back. {198} Beside herself with the pain and the sense of her position, the
woman leaped up and fell before the knees of Iatrocles, overturning the table as
she did so. And had he not rescued her, she would have perished as the victim of
a drunken debauch; for the drunkenness of this abominable creature is something
horrible.[n] The case of this woman was also mentioned in Arcadia before the Ten
Thousand, and Diophantus reported to you what I shall now force him to testify;
for the matter was much talked of in Thessaly and everywhere.

{199} Yet with all this on his conscience this unclean creature will dare to
look you in the face, and will very soon be speaking to you of the life he has
lived, in that magnificent voice of his. It chokes me to hear him! Does not the
jury know how at first you used to read over the books to your mother at her
initiations,[n] and wallow amid bands of drunken men at their orgies, while
still a boy? {200} and how you were afterwards under-clerk to the magistrates,
and played the rogue for two or three drachmae?[n] and how at last, in recent
days, you thought yourself lucky to get a parasitic living in the training-rooms
of others, as a third-rate actor? What then is the life of which you propose to
speak? Where have you lived it? For the life which you have really lived has
been what I have described. And how much does he take upon himself! He brought
another man to trial here for unnatural offences! But I leave this point for the
moment. (_To the clerk._) First, read me these depositions.

[_The depositions are read._]

{201} So many, then, and so gross, gentlemen of the jury, being the crimes
against you of which he stands convicted--and what wickedness do they not
include? he is corrupt, he is a minion, he is under the curse, a liar, a
betrayer of his own people; all the most heinous offences are there--he will not
defend himself against a single one of these charges, and will have no defence
to offer that is either just or straightforward. But the statement which, I am
told, he intends to make, borders on madness; though perhaps a man who has no
other plea to offer must contrive anything that he can. {202} For I hear that he
is to say that I, forsooth, have been a partner in everything of which I accuse
him; that at first I used to approve of his policy and to act with him; and that
I have suddenly changed my mind and become his accuser. As a defence of his
conduct such assertions are, of course, neither legitimate nor to the point,
though they do imply some kind of charge against myself; for, of course, if I
have acted thus, I am a worthless person. But the conduct itself is no better
for that. Far from it! {203} At the same time, I think it is proper for me to
prove to you both the points in question--first, that if he makes such an
assertion he will be lying; and secondly, what is the just line of defence. Now
a just and straightforward defence must show either that the acts charged
against him were not committed, or that having been committed, they are to the
advantage of the city. {204} But Aeschines cannot do either of these things. For
I presume that it is not possible for him to say that it is to the advantage of
the city that the Phocians have been ruined, that Thermopylae is in Philip's
hands, that Thebes is powerful, that there are soldiers in Euboea and plotting
against Megara, and that the Peace should not have been sworn to,[n] when on the
former occasion he announced the very contrary of all these things to you in the
guise of advantages, and advantages about to be realized? Nor will he be able to
persuade you that these things have not been done, when you yourselves have seen
them and know the facts well. {205} It remains for me, therefore, to show you
that I have had no share in any of their proceedings. Shall I then dismiss
everything else from consideration--all that I have said against them in your
presence, all my collisions with them during our absence, all my antagonism to
them from first to last--and produce my opponents themselves as witnesses to the
fact that my conduct and theirs have been absolutely contrary the one to the
other--that they have taken money to your detriment, and that I refused to
receive it? Then mark what I say.

{206} Who, would you say, was of all men in Athens the most offensive, most
overflowing with effrontery and contemptuousness? I am sure that none of you,
even by mistake, would name any other than Philocrates. And who, would you say,
possessed the loudest voice and could enunciate whatever he pleased most
clearly? Aeschines the defendant, I am sure. Who is it then that these men
describe as cowardly and timid before a crowd, while I call him cautious? It is
myself; for I have never annoyed you or forced myself upon you against your
will. {207} Now at every meeting of the Assembly, as often as a discussion has
arisen upon these subjects, you hear me accusing and convicting these men,
declaring explicitly that they have taken money and have sold all the interests
of the city. And not one of them has ever to this day contradicted the
statement, when he heard it, or opened his mouth, or shown himself. {208} What
then is the reason, why the most offensive men in the city, the men with the
loudest voices, are so cowed before me, the timidest of men, whose voice is no
louder than any other? It is because Truth is strong; while to them, on the
other hand, the consciousness of having sold public interests is a source of
weakness. It is this that steals away the boldness of these men, this that binds
down their tongues and stops their mouths--chokes them, and makes them silent.
{209} You remember, of course, how at the recent meeting in the Peiraeus, when
you would not have him for your representative,[n] he was shouting that he would
impeach me and indict me, and crying, 'Oh! Oh!' But such steps are the beginning
of long and numerous trials and speeches; whereas the alternative was but to
utter perhaps two or three words, which even a slave purchased yesterday could
have pronounced--'Men of Athens, this is utterly atrocious. Demosthenes is
accusing me here of crimes in which he himself was a partner; he says that I
have taken money, when he has taken money, or shared it, himself.' {210} But no
such words, no such sound, did he utter, nor did one of you hear him do so; he
only uttered threats to a different effect. And why? Because he knew that he had
done what he was charged with doing; he was abjectly afraid to use any such
expressions; his resolution could not rise to them, but shrank back; for it was
in the grip of his conscience; whereas there was nothing to hinder him from
uttering irrelevant abuse and slander. {211} But here is the strongest proof of
all, and it consists not in words, but in fact. For when I was anxious to do
what it was right to do, namely, to make a second report to you, after serving a
second time as ambassador, Aeschines came before the Board of Auditors with a
number of witnesses, and forbade them to call me before the court, since I had
rendered my account already, and was no longer liable to give it. The incident
was extremely ridiculous. And what was the meaning of it? He had made his report
with reference to the First Embassy, against which no one brought any charge,
and did not wish to go before the court again with regard to the Second Embassy,
with reference to which he now appears before you, and within which all his
crimes fell. {212} But if I came before you twice, it became necessary for him
also to appear again; and so he tried to prevent them from summoning me. But
this action of his, men of Athens, plainly proves to you two things--first, that
he had so condemned himself that none of you can now acquit him without impiety;
and secondly, that he will not speak a word of truth about me. Had he anything
true to assert, he would have been found asserting it and accusing me then; he
would certainly not have tried to prevent my being summoned. {213} To prove the
truth of what I say, (_to the clerk_) call me the witnesses to the facts.

But further, if he makes slanderous statements against me which have nothing to
do with the Embassy, there are many good reasons for your refusing to listen to
him. For I am not on my trial to-day, and when I have finished my speech I have
no further time allotted to me.[n] What can such statements mean, except that he
is bankrupt of legitimate arguments? For who that was on his trial and had any
defence to make, would prefer to accuse another? {214} And consider also this
further point, gentlemen of the jury. If I were on my trial, with the defendant
Aeschines for accuser and Philip for judge; and if, being unable to disprove my
guilt, I abused Aeschines and tried to sully his character, do you not think
that Philip would be indignant at the very fact of a man abusing _his_
benefactors in his own presence? Do not _you_ then prove worse than Philip; but
force Aeschines to defend himself against the charges which are the subject of
the trial. (_To the clerk._) Read the deposition.

[_The deposition is read._]

{215} So for my part, because I had nothing on my conscience, I felt it my duty
to render an account and submit all the information that the laws required,
while the defendant took the opposite view. How then can his conduct and mine
have been the same? or how can he possibly assert against me now things of which
he has never even accused me before? It is surely impossible. And yet he will
assert these things, and, Heaven knows, it is natural enough. For you doubtless
know well that ever since the human race began and trials were instituted, no
one was ever convicted admitting his crime: they brazen it out, they deny it,
they lie, they make up excuses, they take every means to escape paying the
penalty. {216} _You_ must not let any of these devices mislead you to-day; your
judgement must be given upon the facts, in the light of your own knowledge; you
must not attend to words, whether mine or his, still less to the witnesses whom
he will have ready to testify anything, since he has Philip to pay his expenses
--you will see how glibly they will give evidence for him; nor must you care
whether his voice is fine and loud, or whether mine is poor. {217} For it is no
trial of orators or of speeches that you have to hold to-day, if you are wise
men. You have rather, in the name of a cause shamefully and terribly ruined, to
thrust off the present disgrace on to the shoulders of the guilty, after a
scrutiny of those results which are known to you all. {218} And these results,
which you know and do not require us to tell you of--what are they? If the
consequences of the Peace have been all that they promised you; if you admit
that you were so filled with an unmanly cowardice, that, though the enemy was
not in your land, though you were not blockaded by sea, though your city was
menaced by no other danger whatever, though, on the contrary, the price of corn
was low and you were in other respects as well off as you are to-day, {219}
though you knew beforehand on the information of these men that your allies were
about to be ruined and Thebes to become powerful, that Philip was about to
occupy the Thracian strongholds and to establish a basis of operations against
you in Euboea, and that all that has now happened was about to come to pass, you
nevertheless made peace cheerfully;--if that is so, then acquit Aeschines, and
do not add perjury to all your disgrace. For in that case he is guilty of no
crime against you; it is I that am mad and brainsick to accuse him now. {220}
But if what they told you was altogether the reverse of this, if it was a tale
of great generosity--of Philip's love for Athens, of his intention to save the
Phocians, to check the insolence of the Thebans, and beside all this (if he
obtained the Peace) to confer on you benefits that would more than compensate
for Amphipolis, and to restore to you Euboea and Oropus; if, I say, they stated
and promised all this, and have now totally deceived and cheated you, and have
all but robbed you of Attica itself, then condemn him, and do not, in addition
to all the outrages--I know not what other word to use--that you have suffered,
carry with you to your homes, through upholding their corruption, the curse and
the guilt of perjury.

{221} Again, gentlemen of the jury, ask yourselves what reason I could have had
for choosing to accuse these men, if they had done no wrong? You will find none.
Is it pleasant to have many enemies? Pleasant? It is not even safe. Was there
any quarrel between me and Aeschines? None. What then? 'You were afraid for
yourself, and in your cowardice thought to save yourself this way:' for that, I
have heard, is what he says. What? I was afraid, when, according to your own
statement, there was nothing to be afraid of, and no crime had been committed?
If he repeats such an assertion, men of Athens, consider[n] what these men
themselves, the actual criminals, ought to suffer for their offences, if I, who
am absolutely guiltless, was afraid of being ruined owing to them. {222} But
what is my motive for accusing you? I am an informer, of course, and want to get
money out of you![n] And which was the easier course for me--to get money out of
Philip, who offered a large sum--to get as much as any of these men, and to have
not only Philip for my friend, but also my opponents (for they would assuredly
have been friends, had I been partner with them, since even now they have no
inherited quarrel against me, but only the fact that I refused to join in their
actions); or to beg them for a share of their gains, and be regarded with
hostility both by Philip and by them? Is it likely that when I was ransoming the
prisoners at such cost to myself, I should ask to receive a paltry sum from
these men, in a disgraceful manner and with their enmity accompanying it? {223}
Impossible! My report was true. I abstained from taking money for the sake of
justice and truth and my own future. For I thought, as others among you have
thought, that my own uprightness would receive its reward, and that I must not
barter my ambition to stand well with you for gain of any kind. And I abhor
these men, because I saw that they were vile and impious in the conduct of their
mission, and because I have been robbed of the objects of my own ambition, owing
to their corruption, now that you have come to be vexed with the Embassy as a
whole. And it is because I foresee what must happen that I now accuse him, and
appear to challenge his report; for I would have it decided here, in a trial
before a jury, that my conduct has been the opposite of his. {224} And I am
afraid--afraid, I say, for I will speak all my mind to you--that though when the
time comes you may drag me in spite of my entire innocence to the same ruin with
them, you are now utterly supine. For, men of Athens, you appear to me to be
altogether unstrung, waiting to suffer the horrors which others are suffering
before your eyes, and taking no precautions, no thought for the city, which for
so long has been exposed to destruction in many a dreadful form. {225} Is it
not, think you, dreadful and preternatural? For even where I had resolved upon
silence, I am driven to speak. You doubtless know Pythocles here, the son of
Pythodorus. I had been on very kindly terms with him, and to this day there has
been no unpleasantness between us. He avoids me now, when he meets me--ever
since he visited Philip--and if he is obliged to encounter me anywhere, he
starts away immediately, lest any one should see him talking with me. But with
Aeschines he walks all round the marketplace, discussing their plans. {226} Now
is it not a terrible and shocking thing, men of Athens, that those who have made
it their choice to foster Philip's interests should be able to rely upon so
accurate a discrimination on Philip's part, that all that any one of them does
here can no more be hid from Philip (so they believe) than if he were standing
by their side, and that his friends and foes alike are those that Philip
chooses; while those whose life is lived for _your_ good, who are greedy of
honour at _your_ hands, and have not betrayed you, should be met by such
deafness, such blindness, on your part, that to-day I have to wrestle with these
devils incarnate on equal terms, and that before you, who know the whole truth?
{227} Would you know or hear the cause of these things? I will tell you, and I
beg that none of you be angry with me for speaking the truth. It is, I imagine,
that Philip has but one body and one soul, and it is with all his heart that he
cherishes those who do him good and detests those who do him evil: whereas each
of you, in the first place, has no feeling that the good or the evil which is
being done to the city, is being done to himself; {228} other feelings are of
more consequence, and often lead you astray--pity, envy, anger, favour towards
the suppliant, and an infinite number of other motives: while if a man has
actually escaped all these, he will still not escape from those who do not want
such a man to exist at all. And so the error due to each of these single causes
steals on little by little, till the state is exposed to the whole accumulated

{229} Do not fall victims to any such error to-day, men of Athens: do not let
the defendant go, when he has done you all this wrong. For honestly, if you let
him go, what will be said of you? 'Certain men,' it will be said, 'went as
ambassadors to Philip yonder--Philocrates, Aeschines, Phrynon, and Demosthenes;
and, what happened? One of them not only gained nothing by his mission, but
ransomed the prisoners at his private expense; another, with the money for which
he sold the interests of his country, went about purchasing harlots and fish.
{230} One of them, the abominable Phrynon, sent his son to Philip before he had
registered him as an adult; the other did nothing unworthy of himself or his
city. One, though serving as choregus and trierarch,[n] felt it his duty
voluntarily to incur that further expense [to ransom the prisoners] rather than
see any of his fellow citizens suffering misfortune for want of means; the
other, so far from rescuing any of those who were already in captivity, joined
in bringing a whole district, and more than 10,000 infantry and 1,000 cavalry
with them, the forces of the actual allies of his country, into captivity to
Philip. What followed? {231} When the Athenians got them into their hands (for
they had long known the truth) what did they do? They let go the men who had
received bribes and had disgraced themselves, and their city, and their
children; they thought that these were wise men, and that all was well[n] with
the city; and as for their accuser, they thought him thunderstruck--a man who
did not understand his country, and did not know where to fling his money away.'
{232} And who, men of Athens, with this example before his eyes, will be willing
to offer you his honest service? who will act as ambassador for nothing, if he
is not only to gain nothing by it, but is not to be more trustworthy in your
eyes than those who have taken money? You are not only trying these men to-day,
but you are laying down a law for all future time--a law which will declare
whether your ambassadors are to serve the enemy for a price, or to act
disinterestedly for your true good and to take no bribe? {233} On all the other
points you require no evidence; but to prove that Phrynon sent his son, (_to the
clerk_) call me the witnesses to the facts.

Aeschines then did not prosecute Phrynon, for sending his own son to Philip for
a disgraceful purpose. But because a man, who in his youth was above the average
in appearance, did not foresee the suspicion which his good looks might entail,
and afterwards lived a somewhat fast life, he has prosecuted him for unnatural

{234} Now let me speak of the banquet and the decree; for I had almost
overlooked what I was especially bound to tell you. In drawing up the resolution
of the Council with reference to the First Embassy, and again in addressing the
people, at the assemblies in which you were to discuss the question of peace,
not a single word or act of a criminal nature on the part of these men having so
far come to light, I followed the ordinary custom, and proposed to accord them a
vote of thanks, and to invite them to the Town Hall. {235} And I did, of course,
entertain Philip's ambassadors as well, and on a very splendid scale, men of
Athens. For when I saw that in their own country they prided themselves even on
things like these, as showing their prosperity and splendour, I thought that I
must begin by outdoing them in this respect, and displaying even greater
magnificence. These incidents Aeschines will shortly bring forward to prove that
'Demosthenes himself voted thanks to us, and gave a banquet to the ambassadors',
without telling you the precise time when the incidents occurred. {236} For
these things belong to a time before any injury had been done to the city, and
before it was evident that they had sold themselves. The ambassadors had only
just arrived on their first visit; the people had still to hear what they
proposed; and there was nothing as yet to show that Aeschines would support
Philocrates, or that Philocrates would make such proposals as he did. If, then,
Aeschines uses any such argument, remember that the dates of the incidents are
earlier than those of his crimes. But since then there has been no friendliness
between myself and them, and no common action. (_To the clerk._) Read the

[_The deposition is read._]

{237} Now perhaps his brother Philochares will support him, and Aphobetus. There
is much that you may fairly urge in reply to both; and I am obliged, men of
Athens, to speak to you quite freely and without any reserve. You, Philochares,
are a painter of vase-cases and drums; your brothers are under-clerks and quite
ordinary men--not that there is any harm in these things, but at the same time
they do not qualify a man to be a general.[n] And yet, Aphobetus and
Philochares, we thought you worthy to be ambassadors and generals, and to
receive the highest honours; {238} so that even if none of you were guilty of
any crime, we should owe no gratitude to you; you would rather owe gratitude to
us for your preferment. For we passed by many others, more deserving of such
honours than you were, and exalted you instead. But if in the enjoyment of these
very honours one of you has actually committed crimes, and crimes of such a
nature, how much more deserving are you of execration than of acquittal? Much
more, I am sure. Perhaps they will force their claims upon you, for they are
loud-voiced and shameless, and they have taken to themselves the motto that 'it
is pardonable for brother to help brother'. {239} But you must not give way.
Remember that if it is right for them to think of Aeschines, it is for you to
think of the laws and the whole State, and, above all, of the oath which you
yourselves, who sit here, have taken. Yes, and if they have entreated some of
you to save the defendant, then ask yourselves whether you are to save him if he
is proved innocent of crime, or even if he is proved guilty. If they ask you to
do so, should he be innocent, I too say that you must acquit him. But if you are
asked to acquit him, whatever he has done, then they have asked you to commit
perjury. For though your vote is secret, it will not be hidden from the gods;
and the framer of our law [which enjoins secret voting] was absolutely right,
when he saw that though none of these men will know which of you has granted his
request, the gods will know, and the unseen powers, who has given the unjust
vote. {240} And it is better for a man to lay up, for his children and himself,
those good hopes which _they_ can bestow, by giving the decision that is just
and right, than to win credit from these men for a favour of whose reality they
can have no certain knowledge, and to acquit the defendant, when his own
testimony condemns him. For what stronger testimony can I produce, Aeschines, to
prove how terrible your work as ambassador has been, than your own testimony
against yourself? For when you thought it necessary to involve in so great and
dreadful a calamity one who wished to reveal some of your actions as ambassador,
it is plain that you expected your own punishment to be a terrible one, if your
countrymen learned what you had done.

{241} That step, if you are wise, he will prove to have taken to his own
detriment; not only because it is an overwhelming proof of the nature of his
conduct as ambassador, but also because of those expressions which he used in
the course of the prosecution, and which are now at our disposal against
himself. For the principles of justice, as defined by you when you were
prosecuting Timarchus, must, I presume, be no less valid when used by others
against yourself. {242} His words to the jury on that occasion were these.
'Demosthenes intends to defend Timarchus, and to denounce my acts as ambassador.
And then, when he has led you off the point by his speech, he will brag of it,
and go about saying, "Well? what do you think?[2] Why I led the jury right away
from the point, and stole the case triumphantly out of their hands."' Then you
at least must not act thus, but must make your defence with reference to the
real points of your case, though, when you were prosecuting Timarchus on that
occasion, you permitted yourself to make any charges and assertions that you

{243} But there were verses too, which you recited before the jury, in your
inability to produce any witness to the charges on which you were prosecuting

Rumour, the voice of many folk, not all
Doth die, for Rumour too a goddess is.[3]

Well, Aeschines, all those who are present say that you have made money out of
your mission; and so it holds true against you, I suppose, that 'Rumour, the
voice of many folk, not all doth die'. {244} For observe how easily you can
ascertain how much larger a body of accusers appears in your case than in his.
Timarchus was not known even to all his neighbors; while there is not a man,
Hellene or foreigner, but says that you and your fellow ambassadors made money
out of your mission. And so, if the rumour is true, then the rumour which is the
voice of many folk is against you; and you have yourself laid down that such a
rumour is to be believed, that 'Rumour too a goddess is', and that the poet who
composed these lines was a wise man.

{245} Then, you remember, he collected some iambic verses, and recited the whole
passage; for instance:--

Whoso in evil company delights
Of him I ne'er enquired, for well I trow,
As is his company, such is the man.[3]

And 'when a man goes to the cockpit[n] and walks about with Pittalacus'--he
added more to the same effect--'surely,' said he, 'you know what to think of
him.' Well, Aeschines, these same verses will now exactly serve my turn against
you, and if I quote them to the jury, the quotation will be true and apposite.
'But whoso in the company delights' of Philocrates, and that when he is an
ambassador, 'Of him I ne'er enquired, for well I trow' that he has taken money,
as did Philocrates who does not deny it.

{246} He attempts to insult others by labelling them hack-writers[n] and
sophists. He shall himself be proved liable to these very imputations. The
verses he quoted are derived from the _Phoenix_ of Euripides--a play which has
never to this day been acted either by Theodorus or Aristodemus, the actors
under whom Aeschines always played third-rate parts, though it was performed by
Molon, and no doubt by other actors of former times. But the _Antigone_ of
Sophocles has often been acted by Theodorus and often by Aristodemus; and in
this play there are some admirable and instructive verses, which he must know
quite well by heart, since he has often delivered them himself, but which he has
omitted to quote. {247} For you know, I am sure, that in every tragedy it is, as
it were, the special privilege of third-rate actors to play in the role of
tyrants and sceptred kings. Consider, then, these excellent lines, placed by the
poet in the mouth of our Creon-Aeschines in this play--lines which he neither
repeated to himself to guide him as an ambassador, nor yet quoted to the jury.
(_To the clerk._) Read the passage.

_Verses from the 'Antigone' of Sophocles._

To learn aright the soul and heart and mind
Of any man--for that, device is none,
Till he be proved in government and law,
And so revealed. For he who guides the State,
Yet cleaves not in his counsels to the best,
But from some fear in prison locks his tongue,
Is in mine eyes, as he hath ever been,
Vilest of men. And him, who sets his friend
Before his land, I count of no esteem.
For I--be it known to God's all-viewing eye--
Would ne'er keep silence, seeing the march of doom
Upon this city--doom in safety's stead,
Nor ever take to me as mine own friend
My country's foe.' For this I know, that she,
Our country, is the ship that bears us safe,
And safe aboard her, while she sails erect,
We make good friends.

{248} None of these lines did Aeschines ever repeat to himself during his
mission. Instead of preferring his country he thought that to be friend and
guest-friend of Philip was much more important and profitable for himself, and
bade a long farewell to the wise Sophocles. He saw the 'march of doom' draw
near, in the campaign against the Phocians; but he gave no warning, no
announcement of what was to come. On the contrary, he helped to conceal it, he
helped to carry out the doom, he prevented those who would have given warning--
{249} not remembering that 'Our country is the ship that bears us safe, and safe
aboard her' his mother with the help of her initiations and purifications and
the property of the clients, on whom she lived, reared up these sons of hers to
their destined greatness;[n] while his father, who kept an elementary school, as
I am told by my elders, near the temple of the Hero-Physician,[n] made a living,
such as he could indeed, but still on the same ship. The sons, who had received
money as under-clerks and servants in all the magistrates' offices, were finally
elected clerks by you, and for two years continued to get their living in the
Round Chamber;[n] and Aeschines was just now dispatched as your ambassador--from
this same ship. He regarded none of these things. {250} He took no care that the
ship should sail erect. Nay, he capsized her; he sank the ship; he did all that
he could to bring her into the power of the enemy. What then? Are you not a
sophist? Aye, and a villanous one. Are you not a hack? Aye, and one detested of
Heaven--for you passed over the scene which you had so often performed and knew
well by heart, while you sought out a scene which you had never acted in your
life, and produced the passage in the hope of injuring one of your fellow

{251} And now examine his speech about Solon. He told us that the statue of
Solon, with his hand concealed in the drapery of his robe, was erected as an
illustration of the self-restraint of the orators of that day. (This was in the
course of a scurrilous attack upon the impetuosity of Timarchus.) But the
Salaminians tell us that this statue was erected less than fifty years ago,
whereas some two hundred and forty years have passed between the time of Solon
and the present day; so that not only was the artist, who modelled him in this
attitude, not living in Solon's day, but even his grandfather was not. {252}
That then is what he told the jury, copying the attitude as he did so. But that
which it would have done his country far more good to see--the soul and the mind
of Solon--he did not copy. No, he did the very reverse. For when Salamis had
revolted from Athens and the death-penalty had been decreed against any one who
proposed to attempt its recovery, Solon, by singing, at the risk of his own
life,[n] a lay which he had composed, won back the island for his country, and
wiped out her disgrace: {253} while Aeschines, when the king and all the
Hellenes had decided that Amphipolis was yours, surrendered and sold it, and
supported Philocrates, who proposed the resolution for this purpose. It is
indeed worth his while (is it not?) to remember Solon! Nor was he content with
acting thus in Athens; for when he had gone to Macedonia, he did not even
mention the name of the place which it was the object of his mission to secure.
This, in fact, he reported to you himself, in words which doubtless you
remember: 'I too had something to say about Amphipolis; but in order that
Demosthenes might have an opportunity of speaking upon the subject, I left it to
him.' {254} Upon which I came forward and denied that Aeschines had left to me
anything which he was anxious to say to Philip; he would rather have given any
one a share in his lifeblood than in his speech. The truth is, I imagine, that
he had taken money; and as Philip had given him the money in order that he might
not have to restore Amphipolis, he could not speak in opposition to Philip's
case. Now (_to the clerk_) take this lay of Solon's and read it; and (_to the
jury_) then you will know how Solon used to hate all such men as this.

{255} It is not when you are speaking, Aeschines, but when you are upon an
embassy, that you should keep your hand within your robe. But on the Embassy you
held out your hand, and held it open; you brought shame to your countrymen: and
do you here assume a solemn air and recite in those practised tones the
miserable phrases that you have learned by heart, and expect to escape the
penalty for all your heinous crimes--even if you do go round with a cap on your
head,[n] uttering abuse against me? (_To the clerk._) Read the verses.

_Solon's Lay._

The Father's voice hath spoken,
Whose word is Destiny,
And the blest Gods have willed it,
The Gods who shall not die;
That ne'er shall the Destroyer
Prevail against our land;
The Dread Sire's valiant Daughter
Guards us with eye and hand.
Yet her own sons, in folly,
Would lay their country low,
For pelf; and in her leaders
An heart of sin doth grow.
For them--their pride's fell offspring--
There waiteth grievous pain;
For sated still, they know not
Their proud lust to contain.
Not theirs, if mirth be with them,
The decent, peaceful feast;
To sin they yield, and sinning
Rejoice in wealth increased.
No hallowed treasure sparing,
Nor people's common store,
This side and that his neighbour
Each robs with havoc sore.
The holy law of Justice
They guard not. Silent she,
Who knows what is and hath been,
Awaits the time to be.
Then cometh she to judgement,
With certain step, tho' slow;
E'en now she smites the city,
And none may 'scape the blow.
To thraldom base she drives us,
From slumber rousing strife,--
Fell war of kin, destroying
The young, the beauteous life.
The foemen of their country
In wicked bands combine,
Fit company; and stricken
The lovely land doth pine.
These are the Wrong, the Mischief,
That pace the earth at home;
But many a beggared exile
To other lands must roam--
Sold, chained in bonds unseemly;
For so to each man's hall
Comes home the People's Sorrow,
And leaps the high fence-wall.
No courtyard door can stay it;
It follows to his side,
Flee tho' he may, and crouching
In inmost chamber hide.
Such warning unto Athens
My spirit bids me sound,
That Lawlessness in cities
Spreads evil all around;
But Lawfulness and Order
Make all things good and right,
Chaining Sin's hands in fetters,
Quenching the proud soul's light,
Smoothing the rough, the sated
Staying, and withering
The flowers, that, fraught with ruin,
From fatal seed upspring.
The paths of crooked justice
Are turned into straight;
The ways of Pride grow gentle,
The ways of Strife and Hate;
Then baleful Faction ceases,
Then Health prevails alway,
And Wisdom still increases,
Beneath Law's wholesome sway.

{256} You hear, men of Athens, how Solon speaks of men like these, and of the
gods, who, he says, preserve the city. It is my belief and my hope that this
saying of his, that the gods preserve our city, is true at all times; but I
believe that all that has happened in connexion with the present examination is,
in a sense, a special proof of the goodwill of some unseen power towards the
city. {257} Consider what has happened. A man who as ambassador did a work of
great wickedness, and has surrendered countries in which the gods should have
been worshipped by yourselves and your allies, has disfranchised one who
accepted the challenge[n] to prosecute him. To what end? To the end that he
himself might meet with no pity or mercy for his own iniquities. Nay, more;
while prosecuting his victim he deliberately set himself to speak evil of me;
and again, before the People, he threatened to enter an indictment against me,
and said more to the same effect. And to what end? To the end that I, who had
the most perfect knowledge of all his acts of villany, and had followed them
closely throughout, might have your full indulgence in prosecuting him. {258}
Aye, and through postponing his appearance before you continually up to the
present moment, he has been insensibly brought to a time when, on account of
what is coming upon us, if for no other reason, it is neither possible nor safe
for you to allow him (after his corruption) to escape unscathed. For though, men
of Athens, you ought always to execrate and to punish those who are traitors and
corrupt, to do so at this time would be more than ever seasonable, and would
confer a benefit upon all mankind in common. {259} For a disease, men of Athens,
an awful disease has fallen upon Hellas--a disease hard to cope with, and
requiring abundant good fortune, and abundant carefulness on your own part. For
the most notable men in their several cities, the men who claim[n] to lead in
public affairs, are betraying their own liberty--unhappy men!--and bringing upon
themselves a self-chosen servitude, under the milder names of friendship and
companionship with Philip, and other such phrases; while the other citizens, and
the sovereign bodies in each city, however composed, whose duty it was to punish
these men and slay them out of hand, are so far from taking any such action,
that they admire and envy them, and every one would be glad to be in the same
case. {260} Yet it is from this very cause--it is through entertaining ambitions
like these--that the Thessalians, who up to yesterday or the day before had lost
thereby only their paramount position[n] and their dignity as a state, are now
already being stripped of their very liberty; for there are Macedonian garrisons
in some of their citadels. This same disease it is which has invaded the
Peloponnese and brought about the massacres in Elis, infecting the unhappy
people of that country with such insanity and frenzy, that in order to be lords
over one another and to gratify Philip, they murder their kinsmen and fellow
citizens. {261} Not even here has the disease been stayed: it has penetrated
Arcadia and turned it upside-down; and now many of the Arcadians, who should be
no less proud of liberty than yourselves--for you and they alone are indigenous
peoples--are declaring their admiration for Philip, erecting his image in
bronze, and crowning him; and, to complete the tale, they have passed a
resolution that, if he comes to the Peloponnese, they will receive him within
their walls. {262} The Argives have acted in exactly the same way. These events,
I say it in all solemnity and earnestness, call for no small precautions: for
this plague, men of Athens, that is spreading all around us, has now found its
way to Athens itself. While then we are still safe, ward it off, and take away
the citizenship of those who first introduced it. Beware lest otherwise you
realize the worth of the advice given you this day, only when there is no longer
anything that you can do. {263} Do you not perceive, men of Athens, how vivid
and plain an example has been afforded you by the unhappy Olynthians? The
destruction of those wretched men was due to nothing so much as to conduct like
that of which I speak. You can test this clearly if you review their history.
{264} For at a time when they possessed only 400 cavalry, and numbered not more
than 5,000 men in all, since the Chalcidians were not yet all united under one
government, the Spartans came against them with a large force, including both
army and fleet (for you doubtless remember that at that period the Spartans were
virtually masters both of land and sea); and yet, though this great force came
against them, the Olynthians lost neither the city nor any single fortress, but
won many battles, killed three of the enemy's commanders, and finally concluded
the war on their own terms.[n] {265} But when some of them began to take bribes,
and the people as a whole were foolish enough, or rather unfortunate enough, to
repose greater confidence in these men than in those who spoke for their own
good; when Lasthenes roofed his house with the timber which came from Macedonia,
and Euthycrates was keeping a large herd of cattle for which he had paid no one
anything; when a third returned with sheep, and a fourth with horses, while the
people, to whose detriment all this was being done, so far from showing any
anger or any disposition to chastise men who acted so, actually gazed on them
with envy, and paid them honour and regarded them as heroes--{266} when, I say,
such practices were gaining ground in this way, and corruption had been
victorious; then, though they possessed 1,000 cavalry and numbered more than
10,000 men; though all the surrounding peoples were their allies; though you
went to their assistance with 10,000 mercenaries and 50 ships, and with 4,000
citizen-soldiers as well, none of these things could save them. Before a year of
the war had expired they had lost all the cities in Chalcidice, while Philip
could no longer keep pace with the invitations of the traitors, and did not know
which place to occupy first. {267} Five hundred horsemen were betrayed by their
own commanders and captured by Philip, with their arms--a larger number than
were ever before captured by any one. And the men who acted thus were not
ashamed to face the sun or the earth--the soil of their native land--on which
they stood, or the temples, or the sepulchres of the dead, or the disgrace which
was bound to follow upon such deeds afterwards. Such is the madness and
distraction which corruption engenders. So it is for you--for you, the People--
to be wise, to refuse to suffer such things, and to visit them with public
chastisement. For it would be monstrous indeed, if, after the terrible
condemnation which you passed upon those who betrayed the Olynthians, it were
seen that you allowed the criminals who are in your very midst to go unpunished.
(_To the clerk._) Read the decree passed with reference to the Olynthians.

[_The decree is read._]

{268} This decree, gentlemen of the jury, is one which in the eyes of all,
Hellenes and foreigners alike, it was right and honourable in you to have passed
in condemnation of traitors and men detested of Heaven. And so, since the taking
of the bribe is the step which precedes such actions, and it is the bribe that
prompts the traitor's deeds, whenever, men of Athens, you find a man receiving a
bribe, you must count him a traitor as well. That one man betrays opportunities,
and another affairs of state, and another soldiers, means only, I imagine, that
each works mischief in the particular department over which he has control; but
there should be no distinction in your execration of all such men. {269} You,
men of Athens, are the only people in the world who can draw from your own
history examples which bear upon this matter, and who have those ancestors, whom
you rightly praise, to imitate in your actions. You may not be able, at the
present time, to imitate them in the battles, the campaigns, the perils in which
they distinguished themselves, since at the present moment you are at peace; but
at least you can imitate their wisdom. {270} For of wisdom there is need
everywhere; and a right judgement is no more laborious or troublesome a thing
than a wrong one. Each of you need sit here no longer, in order to judge and
vote on the question before him aright, and so to make his country's position a
better one, and worthy of our ancestors, than he must in order to judge and vote
wrongly, and so make it worse and unworthy of our ancestors. What then were
their sentiments on this matter? (_To the clerk._) Take this, clerk, and read
it: (_to the jury_) for I would have you see that the acts towards which you are
so indifferent are acts for which your forefathers voted death to the doers.

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