{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 assuredlyIwould 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 whatisyour assertion, sir?' I may be asked. 'At what pointdoyour 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 rôle 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 throughAeschinesthat 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 withmeas you will. I trusted Philip; I was deceived; I was wrong; I confess my error. But beware ofhim, 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 wasnotmisled; he wasnotdeceived; 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 forhimto 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-day.
{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 hesaid. {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.