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 abusinghisbenefactors in his own presence? Do notyouthen 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}Youmust 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 foryourgood, who are greedy of honour atyourhands, and have not betrayed you, should be met by such deafness, such blindness, on your part, that to-day I have to wrestle with these devils incarnate on equal terms, and that before you, who know the whole truth? {227} Would you know or hear the cause of these things? I will tell you, and I beg that none of you be angry with me for speaking the truth. It is, I imagine, that Philip has but one body and one soul, and it is with all his heart that he cherishes those who do him good and detests those who do him evil: whereas each of you, in the first place, has no feeling that the good or the evil which is being done to the city, is being done to himself; {228} other feelings are of more consequence, and often lead you astray—pity, envy, anger, favour towards the suppliant, and an infinite number of other motives: while if a man has actually escaped all these, he will still not escape from those who do not want such a man to exist at all. And so the error due to each of these single causes steals on little by little, till the state is exposed to the whole accumulated mischief.
{229} Do not fall victims to any such error to-day, men of Athens: do not let the defendant go, when he has done you all this wrong. For honestly, if you let him go, what will be said of you? 'Certain men,' it will be said, 'went as ambassadors to Philip yonder—Philocrates, Aeschines, Phrynon, and Demosthenes; and, what happened? One of them not only gained nothing by his mission, but ransomed the prisoners at his private expense; another, with the money for which he sold the interests of his country, went about purchasing harlots and fish. {230} One of them, the abominable Phrynon, sent his son to Philip before he had registered him as an adult; the other did nothing unworthy of himself or his city. One, though serving as choregus and trierarch,[n] felt it his duty voluntarily to incur that further expense [to ransom the prisoners] rather than see any of his fellow citizens suffering misfortune for want of means; the other, so far from rescuing any of those who were already in captivity, joined in bringing a whole district, and more than 10,000 infantry and 1,000 cavalry with them, the forces of the actual allies of his country, into captivity to Philip. What followed? {231} When the Athenians got them into their hands (for they had long known the truth) what did they do? They let go the men who had received bribes and had disgraced themselves, and their city, and their children; they thought that these were wise men, and that all was well[n] with the city; and as for their accuser, they thought him thunderstruck—a man who did not understand his country, and did not know where to fling his money away.' {232} And who, men of Athens, with this example before his eyes, will be willing to offer you his honest service? who will act as ambassador for nothing, if he is not only to gain nothing by it, but is not to be more trustworthy in your eyes than those who have taken money? You are not only trying these men to-day, but you are laying down a law for all future time—a law which will declare whether your ambassadors are to serve the enemy for a price, or to act disinterestedly for your true good and to take no bribe? {233} On all the other points you require no evidence; but to prove that Phrynon sent his son, (to the clerk) call me the witnesses to the facts.
Aeschines then did not prosecute Phrynon, for sending his own son to Philip for a disgraceful purpose. But because a man, who in his youth was above the average in appearance, did not foresee the suspicion which his good looks might entail, and afterwards lived a somewhat fast life, he has prosecuted him for unnatural offences.
{234} Now let me speak of the banquet and the decree; for I had almost overlooked what I was especially bound to tell you. In drawing up the resolution of the Council with reference to the First Embassy, and again in addressing the people, at the assemblies in which you were to discuss the question of peace, not a single word or act of a criminal nature on the part of these men having so far come to light, I followed the ordinary custom, and proposed to accord them a vote of thanks, and to invite them to the Town Hall. {235} And I did, of course, entertain Philip's ambassadors as well, and on a very splendid scale, men of Athens. For when I saw that in their own country they prided themselves even on things like these, as showing their prosperity and splendour, I thought that I must begin by outdoing them in this respect, and displaying even greater magnificence. These incidents Aeschines will shortly bring forward to prove that 'Demosthenes himself voted thanks to us, and gave a banquet to the ambassadors', without telling you the precise time when the incidents occurred. {236} For these things belong to a time before any injury had been done to the city, and before it was evident that they had sold themselves. The ambassadors had only just arrived on their first visit; the people had still to hear what they proposed; and there was nothing as yet to show that Aeschines would support Philocrates, or that Philocrates would make such proposals as he did. If, then, Aeschines uses any such argument, remember that the dates of the incidents are earlier than those of his crimes. But since then there has been no friendliness between myself and them, and no common action. (To the clerk.) Read the deposition.
[The deposition is read.]
{237} Now perhaps his brother Philochares will support him, and Aphobetus. There is much that you may fairly urge in reply to both; and I am obliged, men of Athens, to speak to you quite freely and without any reserve. You, Philochares, are a painter of vase-cases and drums; your brothers are under-clerks and quite ordinary men—not that there is any harm in these things, but at the same time they do not qualify a man to be a general.[n] And yet, Aphobetus and Philochares, we thought you worthy to be ambassadors and generals, and to receive the highest honours; {238} so that even if none of you were guilty of any crime, we should owe no gratitude to you; you would rather owe gratitude to us for your preferment. For we passed by many others, more deserving of such honours than you were, and exalted you instead. But if in the enjoyment of these very honours one of you has actually committed crimes, and crimes of such a nature, how much more deserving are you of execration than of acquittal? Much more, I am sure. Perhaps they will force their claims upon you, for they are loud-voiced and shameless, and they have taken to themselves the motto that 'it is pardonable for brother to help brother'. {239} But you must not give way. Remember that if it is right for them to think of Aeschines, it is for you to think of the laws and the whole State, and, above all, of the oath which you yourselves, who sit here, have taken. Yes, and if they have entreated some of you to save the defendant, then ask yourselves whether you are to save him if he is proved innocent of crime, or even if he is proved guilty. If they ask you to do so, should he be innocent, I too say that you must acquit him. But if you are asked to acquit him, whatever he has done, then they have asked you to commit perjury. For though your vote is secret, it will not be hidden from the gods; and the framer of our law [which enjoins secret voting] was absolutely right, when he saw that though none of these men will know which of you has granted his request, the gods will know, and the unseen powers, who has given the unjust vote. {240} And it is better for a man to lay up, for his children and himself, those good hopes whichtheycan bestow, by giving the decision that is just and right, than to win credit from these men for a favour of whose reality they can have no certain knowledge, and to acquit the defendant, when his own testimony condemns him. For what stronger testimony can I produce, Aeschines, to prove how terrible your work as ambassador has been, than your own testimony against yourself? For when you thought it necessary to involve in so great and dreadful a calamity one who wished to reveal some of your actions as ambassador, it is plain that you expected your own punishment to be a terrible one, if your countrymen learned what you had done.
{241} That step, if you are wise, he will prove to have taken to his own detriment; not only because it is an overwhelming proof of the nature of his conduct as ambassador, but also because of those expressions which he used in the course of the prosecution, and which are now at our disposal against himself. For the principles of justice, as defined by you when you were prosecuting Timarchus, must, I presume, be no less valid when used by others against yourself. {242} His words to the jury on that occasion were these. 'Demosthenes intends to defend Timarchus, and to denounce my acts as ambassador. And then, when he has led you off the point by his speech, he will brag of it, and go about saying, "Well? what do you think?[2] Why I led the jury right away from the point, and stole the case triumphantly out of their hands."' Then you at least must not act thus, but must make your defence with reference to the real points of your case, though, when you were prosecuting Timarchus on that occasion, you permitted yourself to make any charges and assertions that you chose.
{243} But there were verses too, which you recited before the jury, in your inability to produce any witness to the charges on which you were prosecuting Timarchus:—
Rumour, the voice of many folk, not allDoth 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 delightsOf 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 thePhoenixof 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 theAntigoneof Sophocles has often been acted by Theodorus and often by Aristodemus; and in this play there are some admirable and instructive verses, which he must know quite well by heart, since he has often delivered them himself, but which he has omitted to quote. {247} For you know, I am sure, that in every tragedy it is, as it were, the special privilege of third-rate actors to play in the rôle of tyrants and sceptred kings. Consider, then, these excellent lines, placed by the poet in the mouth of our Creon-Aeschines in this play—lines which he neither repeated to himself to guide him as an ambassador, nor yet quoted to the jury. (To the clerk.) Read the passage.
Verses from the 'Antigone' of Sophocles.
To learn aright the soul and heart and mindOf 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 friendBefore 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 doomUpon this city—doom in safety's stead,Nor ever take to me as mine own friendMy country's foe.' For this I know, that she,Our country, is the ship that bears us safe,And safe aboard her, while she sails erect,We make good friends.
{248} None of these lines did Aeschines ever repeat to himself during his mission. Instead of preferring his country he thought that to be friend and guest-friend of Philip was much more important and profitable for himself, and bade a long farewell to the wise Sophocles. He saw the 'march of doom' draw near, in the campaign against the Phocians; but he gave no warning, no announcement of what was to come. On the contrary, he helped to conceal it, he helped to carry out the doom, he prevented those who would have given warning—{249} not remembering that 'Our country is the ship that bears us safe, and safe aboard her' his mother with the help of her initiations and purifications and the property of the clients, on whom she lived, reared up these sons of hers to their destined greatness;[n] while his father, who kept an elementary school, as I am told by my elders, near the temple of the Hero-Physician,[n] made a living, such as he could indeed, but still on the same ship. The sons, who had received money as under-clerks and servants in all the magistrates' offices, were finally elected clerks by you, and for two years continued to get their living in the Round Chamber;[n] and Aeschines was just now dispatched as your ambassador—from this same ship. He regarded none of these things. {250} He took no care that the ship should sail erect. Nay, he capsized her; he sank the ship; he did all that he could to bring her into the power of the enemy. What then? Are you not a sophist? Aye, and a villanous one. Are you not a hack? Aye, and one detested of Heaven—for you passed over the scene which you had so often performed and knew well by heart, while you sought out a scene which you had never acted in your life, and produced the passage in the hope of injuring one of your fellow citizens.
{251} And now examine his speech about Solon. He told us that the statue of Solon, with his hand concealed in the drapery of his robe, was erected as an illustration of the self-restraint of the orators of that day. (This was in the course of a scurrilous attack upon the impetuosity of Timarchus.) But the Salaminians tell us that this statue was erected less than fifty years ago, whereas some two hundred and forty years have passed between the time of Solon and the present day; so that not only was the artist, who modelled him in this attitude, not living in Solon's day, but even his grandfather was not. {252} That then is what he told the jury, copying the attitude as he did so. But that which it would have done his country far more good to see—the soul and the mind of Solon—he did not copy. No, he did the very reverse. For when Salamis had revolted from Athens and the death-penalty had been decreed against any one who proposed to attempt its recovery, Solon, by singing, at the risk of his own life,[n] a lay which he had composed, won back the island for his country, and wiped out her disgrace: {253} while Aeschines, when the king and all the Hellenes had decided that Amphipolis was yours, surrendered and sold it, and supported Philocrates, who proposed the resolution for this purpose. It is indeed worth his while (is it not?) to remember Solon! Nor was he content with acting thus in Athens; for when he had gone to Macedonia, he did not even mention the name of the place which it was the object of his mission to secure. This, in fact, he reported to you himself, in words which doubtless you remember: 'I too had something to say about Amphipolis; but in order that Demosthenes might have an opportunity of speaking upon the subject, I left it to him.' {254} Upon which I came forward and denied that Aeschines had left to me anything which he was anxious to say to Philip; he would rather have given any one a share in his lifeblood than in his speech. The truth is, I imagine, that he had taken money; and as Philip had given him the money in order that he might not have to restore Amphipolis, he could not speak in opposition to Philip's case. Now (to the clerk) take this lay of Solon's and read it; and (to the jury) then you will know how Solon used to hate all such men as this.
{255} It is not when you are speaking, Aeschines, but when you are upon an embassy, that you should keep your hand within your robe. But on the Embassy you held out your hand, and held it open; you brought shame to your countrymen: and do you here assume a solemn air and recite in those practised tones the miserable phrases that you have learned by heart, and expect to escape the penalty for all your heinous crimes—even if you do go round with a cap on your head,[n] uttering abuse against me? (To the clerk.) Read the verses.
Solon's Lay.
The Father's voice hath spoken,Whose word is Destiny,And the blest Gods have willed it,The Gods who shall not die;That ne'er shall the DestroyerPrevail against our land;The Dread Sire's valiant DaughterGuards us with eye and hand.Yet her own sons, in folly,Would lay their country low,For pelf; and in her leadersAn heart of sin doth grow.For them—their pride's fell offspring—There waiteth grievous pain;For sated still, they know notTheir proud lust to contain.Not theirs, if mirth be with them,The decent, peaceful feast;To sin they yield, and sinningRejoice in wealth increased.No hallowed treasure sparing,Nor people's common store,This side and that his neighbourEach robs with havoc sore.The holy law of JusticeThey 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, destroyingThe young, the beauteous life.The foemen of their countryIn wicked bands combine,Fit company; and strickenThe lovely land doth pine.These are the Wrong, the Mischief,That pace the earth at home;But many a beggared exileTo other lands must roam—Sold, chained in bonds unseemly;For so to each man's hallComes 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 crouchingIn inmost chamber hide.Such warning unto AthensMy spirit bids me sound,That Lawlessness in citiesSpreads evil all around;But Lawfulness and OrderMake all things good and right,Chaining Sin's hands in fetters,Quenching the proud soul's light,Smoothing the rough, the satedStaying, and witheringThe flowers, that, fraught with ruin,From fatal seed upspring.The paths of crooked justiceAre turned into straight;The ways of Pride grow gentle,The ways of Strife and Hate;Then baleful Faction ceases,Then Health prevails alway,And Wisdom still increases,Beneath Law's wholesome sway.
{256} You hear, men of Athens, how Solon speaks of men like these, and of the gods, who, he says, preserve the city. It is my belief and my hope that this saying of his, that the gods preserve our city, is true at all times; but I believe that all that has happened in connexion with the present examination is, in a sense, a special proof of the goodwill of some unseen power towards the city. {257} Consider what has happened. A man who as ambassador did a work of great wickedness, and has surrendered countries in which the gods should have been worshipped by yourselves and your allies, has disfranchised one who accepted the challenge[n] to prosecute him. To what end? To the end that he himself might meet with no pity or mercy for his own iniquities. Nay, more; while prosecuting his victim he deliberately set himself to speak evil of me; and again, before the People, he threatened to enter an indictment against me, and said more to the same effect. And to what end? To the end that I, who had the most perfect knowledge of all his acts of villany, and had followed them closely throughout, might have your full indulgence in prosecuting him. {258} Aye, and through postponing his appearance before you continually up to the present moment, he has been insensibly brought to a time when, on account of what is coming upon us, if for no other reason, it is neither possible nor safe for you to allow him (after his corruption) to escape unscathed. For though, men of Athens, you ought always to execrate and to punish those who are traitors and corrupt, to do so at this time would be more than ever seasonable, and would confer a benefit upon all mankind in common. {259} For a disease, men of Athens, an awful disease has fallen upon Hellas—a disease hard to cope with, and requiring abundant good fortune, and abundant carefulness on your own part. For the most notable men in their several cities, the men who claim[n] to lead in public affairs, are betraying their own liberty—unhappy men!—and bringing upon themselves a self-chosen servitude, under the milder names of friendship and companionship with Philip, and other such phrases; while the other citizens, and the sovereign bodies in each city, however composed, whose duty it was to punish these men and slay them out of hand, are so far from taking any such action, that they admire and envy them, and every one would be glad to be in the same case. {260} Yet it is from this very cause—it is through entertaining ambitions like these—that the Thessalians, who up to yesterday or the day before had lost thereby only their paramount position[n] and their dignity as a state, are now already being stripped of their very liberty; for there are Macedonian garrisons in some of their citadels. This same disease it is which has invaded the Peloponnese and brought about the massacres in Elis, infecting the unhappy people of that country with such insanity and frenzy, that in order to be lords over one another and to gratify Philip, they murder their kinsmen and fellow citizens. {261} Not even here has the disease been stayed: it has penetrated Arcadia and turned it upside-down; and now many of the Arcadians, who should be no less proud of liberty than yourselves—for you and they alone are indigenous peoples—are declaring their admiration for Philip, erecting his image in bronze, and crowning him; and, to complete the tale, they have passed a resolution that, if he comes to the Peloponnese, they will receive him within their walls. {262} The Argives have acted in exactly the same way. These events, I say it in all solemnity and earnestness, call for no small precautions: for this plague, men of Athens, that is spreading all around us, has now found its way to Athens itself. While then we are still safe, ward it off, and take away the citizenship of those who first introduced it. Beware lest otherwise you realize the worth of the advice given you this day, only when there is no longer anything that you can do. {263} Do you not perceive, men of Athens, how vivid and plain an example has been afforded you by the unhappy Olynthians? The destruction of those wretched men was due to nothing so much as to conduct like that of which I speak. You can test this clearly if you review their history. {264} For at a time when they possessed only 400 cavalry, and numbered not more than 5,000 men in all, since the Chalcidians were not yet all united under one government, the Spartans came against them with a large force, including both army and fleet (for you doubtless remember that at that period the Spartans were virtually masters both of land and sea); and yet, though this great force came against them, the Olynthians lost neither the city nor any single fortress, but won many battles, killed three of the enemy's commanders, and finally concluded the war on their own terms.[n] {265} But when some of them began to take bribes, and the people as a whole were foolish enough, or rather unfortunate enough, to repose greater confidence in these men than in those who spoke for their own good; when Lasthenes roofed his house with the timber which came from Macedonia, and Euthycrates was keeping a large herd of cattle for which he had paid no one anything; when a third returned with sheep, and a fourth with horses, while the people, to whose detriment all this was being done, so far from showing any anger or any disposition to chastise men who acted so, actually gazed on them with envy, and paid them honour and regarded them as heroes—{266} when, I say, such practices were gaining ground in this way, and corruption had been victorious; then, though they possessed 1,000 cavalry and numbered more than 10,000 men; though all the surrounding peoples were their allies; though you went to their assistance with 10,000 mercenaries and 50 ships, and with 4,000 citizen-soldiers as well, none of these things could save them. Before a year of the war had expired they had lost all the cities in Chalcidice, while Philip could no longer keep pace with the invitations of the traitors, and did not know which place to occupy first. {267} Five hundred horsemen were betrayed by their own commanders and captured by Philip, with their arms—a larger number than were ever before captured by any one. And the men who acted thus were not ashamed to face the sun or the earth—the soil of their native land—on which they stood, or the temples, or the sepulchres of the dead, or the disgrace which was bound to follow upon such deeds afterwards. Such is the madness and distraction which corruption engenders. So it is for you—for you, the People—to be wise, to refuse to suffer such things, and to visit them with public chastisement. For it would be monstrous indeed, if, after the terrible condemnation which you passed upon those who betrayed the Olynthians, it were seen that you allowed the criminals who are in your very midst to go unpunished. (To the clerk.) Read the decree passed with reference to the Olynthians.
[The decree is read.]
{268} This decree, gentlemen of the jury, is one which in the eyes of all, Hellenes and foreigners alike, it was right and honourable in you to have passed in condemnation of traitors and men detested of Heaven. And so, since the taking of the bribe is the step which precedes such actions, and it is the bribe that prompts the traitor's deeds, whenever, men of Athens, you find a man receiving a bribe, you must count him a traitor as well. That one man betrays opportunities, and another affairs of state, and another soldiers, means only, I imagine, that each works mischief in the particular department over which he has control; but there should be no distinction in your execration of all such men. {269} You, men of Athens, are the only people in the world who can draw from your own history examples which bear upon this matter, and who have those ancestors, whom you rightly praise, to imitate in your actions. You may not be able, at the present time, to imitate them in the battles, the campaigns, the perils in which they distinguished themselves, since at the present moment you are at peace; but at least you can imitate their wisdom. {270} For of wisdom there is need everywhere; and a right judgement is no more laborious or troublesome a thing than a wrong one. Each of you need sit here no longer, in order to judge and vote on the question before him aright, and so to make his country's position a better one, and worthy of our ancestors, than he must in order to judge and vote wrongly, and so make it worse and unworthy of our ancestors. What then were their sentiments on this matter? (To the clerk.) Take this, clerk, and read it: (to the jury) for I would have you see that the acts towards which you are so indifferent are acts for which your forefathers voted death to the doers. (To the clerk.) Read.
[An inscription is read.]
{271} You hear the inscription, men of Athens, declaring that Arthmius[n] of Zeleia, son of Pythonax, is a foe and a public enemy to the people of Athens and their allies—both he and all his house. And why? Because he brought the gold from the foreigner to the Hellenes. Apparently, therefore, we may judge from this, that your ancestors sought to ensure that no one, not even a stranger, should work mischief against Hellas for money; whereas you do not even seek to prevent any of your fellow citizens from injuring his own city. {272} 'But,' it may be said, 'the inscription occupies a quite unimportant position.' On the contrary, although all yonder Acropolis is sacred and there is no lack of space upon it, this inscription stands on the right hand of the great bronze statue of Athena, the prize of valour in the war against the barbarians, set up by the State with funds which the Hellenes had presented to her. In those days, therefore, uprightness was so sacred, and such merit was attached to the punishment of actions like these, that the sentences passed upon such crimes were thought to deserve the same position as the prize-statue of the goddess. And now, unless you, in your turn, set a check upon this excess of licence, the result must be ridicule, impunity, and shame.[5] {273} You would do well, I think, men of Athens, to imitate your forefathers, not in this or that point alone, but continuously, and in all that they did. Now I am sure that you have all heard the story of Callias,[n] the son of Hipponicus, to whose diplomacy was due the Peace which is universally celebrated, and which provided that the king should not come down by land within a day's ride of the sea, nor sail with a ship of war between the Chelidonian islands and the Cyanean rocks. He was thought to have taken bribes on his mission; and your forefathers almost put him to death, and actually fined him, at the examination of his report, a sum of 50 talents. {274} True it is, that no more honourable peace can be mentioned than this, of all which the city ever made before or afterwards. But it was not to this that they looked. The nature of the Peace they attributed to their own prowess and the glory of their city: but whether the transaction was disinterested or corrupt, depended upon the character of the ambassador; and they expected the character displayed by one who took part in public affairs to be upright and incorruptible. {275} Your ancestors, then, regarded corruption as so inimical, so unprofitable, to the state, that they would not admit it in connexion with any single transaction or any single man; while you, men of Athens, though you have seen that the Peace which has laid low the walls of your own allies is building the houses of your ambassadors—that the Peace which has robbed the city of her possessions has secured for them more than they had ever before hoped for even in their dreams—you, I say, instead of putting them to death of your own accord, need a prosecutor to assist you; and when all can see their crimes in very deed, you are making their trial a trial of words.
{276} It is not, however, by the citation of ancient history, nor by these examples alone, that one may stimulate you to vengeance: for even within the lifetime of yourselves, who are here and still living, many have paid the penalty. All the rest of these I will pass over; but I will mention one or two of those who were punished with death, on returning from a mission whose results have been far less disastrous to the city than those of the present Embassy. (To the clerk.) Take then this decree and read it.
[The decree is read.]
{277} In this decree, men of Athens, you passed sentence of death upon those ambassadors, one of whom was Epicrates,[n] a good man, as I am told by my elders, and one who had in many ways been of service to his country—one of those who brought the people back from the Peiraeus,[n] and who was generally an upholder of the democracy. Yet none of these services helped him, and rightly. For one who claims to manage affairs of such magnitude has not merely to be half honest; he must not secure your confidence and then take advantage of it to increase his power to do mischief; he must do absolutely no wrong against you of his own will. {278} Now if there is one of the things for which those men were sentenced to death, that these men have not done, you may put me to death without delay. Observe what the charges were. 'Since they conducted their mission,' says the decree,[n] 'contrary to the terms of the resolution'—that is the first of the charges. And have not these men contravened the terms of the resolution? Does not the decree speak of peace 'for the Athenians and the allies of the Athenians?' and did they not exclude the Phocians from the treaty? Does not the decree bid them administer the oath to the magistrates in the several cities? and did they not administer it to men sent to them by Philip? Does not the resolution forbid them 'to meet Philip anywhere alone?' and did they not incessantly do business with him privately? {279} Again I read, 'And some of them have been convicted of making a false report before the Council.' But these men have been convicted of doing so before the People as well. And convicted by whom? for this is the splendid thing.[n] Convicted by the actual facts; for all that has happened, as you know, has been the exact reverse of what they announced. 'And,' the decree goes on, 'of not sending true dispatches.' Nor did these men. 'And of accusing our allies falsely and taking bribes.' Instead of 'accusing falsely', say, 'of having utterly ruined'—surely a far more heinous thing than a false accusation. And as for the charge of taking bribes, if it had been denied, it would still have required proof; but since they admitted it, a summary procedure was surely the proper one. {280} What then will you do, men of Athens? You are the offspring of that generation, and some of you are actually survivors from it; and will you endure it, that Epicrates, the benefactor of the people, one of the men from the Peiraeus, should have been exiled and punished;[n] that Thrasybulus, again, the son of the great Thrasybulus, the People's friend, who brought the people back from Phyle, should recently have been fined ten talents; and that the descendant of Harmodius,[n] and of those who achieved for you the greatest of blessings, and whom, for the benefits which they conferred upon you, you have caused to share in the libations and the bowls outpoured, in every temple where sacrifice is offered, singing of them and honouring them as you honour heroes and gods—{281} that all these, I say, should have undergone the penalty ordained by the laws, and that no feeling of compassion or pity, nor the tears of their children who bore the names of our benefactors, nor aught else, should have availed them anything: and yet, when you have to do with the son of Atrometus the schoolmaster, and Glaucothea, who used to hold those meetings of the initiated, a practice for which another priestess[n] was put to death—when you have in your hands the son of such parents, a man who never did a single service to his country—neither himself, nor his father, nor any of his house—will you let him go? {282} Where is the horse, the trireme, the military service, the chorus, the burden undertaken[n] for the state, the war-contribution, the loyal action, the peril undergone, for which in all their lifetime the city has had to thank him or his? Aye, and even if all these stood to his credit, and those other qualifications, of uprightness and integrity in his mission, were not also to be found in him, it would surely have been right that he should perish. But when neither the one nor the other are to be found, will you not avenge yourselves upon him? {283} Will you not call to mind his own words, when he was prosecuting Timarchus—that there was no help for a city which had no sinews to use against the criminal, nor for a constitution in which compassion and solicitation were more powerful than the laws—that it was your duty not to pity the aged mother of Timarchus, nor his children, nor any one else, but to attend solely to one point, namely, that if you abandoned the cause of the laws and the constitution, you would look in vain for any to have pity on yourselves. {284} Is that unhappy man to have lost his rights as a citizen, because he witnessed the guilt of Aeschines, and will you then suffer Aeschines to escape unscathed? On what ground can you do so? for if Aeschines demanded so heavy a penalty from those whose sins were against their own persons, what must be the magnitude of the penalty whichyoushould require—you, the sworn judges of the case—from those who have sinned so greatly against their country's interests, and of whom Aeschines is convincingly proved to be one? {285} 'But,' we are told, 'that was a trial which will raise the moral standard of our young men.' Yes, and this trial will raise that of our statesmen, upon whose character the supreme interests of the city are staked. For your care ought to extend to them also. But you must realize that his real motive for ruining Timarchus himself was not, Heaven knows, to be found in any anxiety for the virtue of your sons. Indeed, men of Athens, they are virtuous even now; for I trust that the city will never have fallen so low, as to need Aphobetus and Aeschines to reform the morals of the young. {286} No! the reason was that Timarchus had proposed in the Council, that if any one was convicted of conveying arms or fittings for ships of war to Philip, the penalty should be death. And here is a proof. How long had Timarchus been in the habit of addressing you? For a long time. Now throughout all this time Aeschines was in Athens, and never showed any vexation or indignation at the fact of such a man addressing you, until he had been to Macedonia and made himself a hireling. (To the clerk.) Come, take the actual decree which Timarchus proposed, and read it.
[The decree is read.]
{287} So the man who proposed on your behalf the resolution which forbade, on pain of death, the supply of arms to Philip during the war, has been ruined and treated with contumely; while Aeschines, who had surrendered the arms of your very allies to Philip, was his accuser, and charged him—I call Heaven and Earth to witness—with unnatural offences, although two of his own kinsmen stood by his side, the very sight of whom would call forth a cry of protest from you—the disgusting Nicias, who went to Egypt and hired himself to Chabrias, and the accursed Cyrebion,[n] who joins in processions, as a reveller,[n] without a mask. Nay, why mention these things? His own brother Aphobetus was there before his eyes! In very truth all the words that were spoken on that day about unnatural offences were water flowing up stream.[n]
{288} And now, to show you the dishonour into which the villainy and mendacity of the defendant have brought our country, passing by all besides, I will mention a fact known to you all. Formerly, men of Athens, all the other Hellenes used to watch attentively, to see what had been resolved in your Assembly; but now we are already going about and inquiring what others have decided—trying to overhear what the Arcadians are doing, or the Amphictyons, or where Philip will be next, and whether he is alive or dead. {289} We do this, do we not? But for me the terrible question is not whether Philip is alive, but whether in this city the habit of execrating and punishing criminals is dead. Philip has no terrors for me, if your own spirit is sound; but the prospect that you may grant security to those who wish to receive their wages from him—that they may be supported by some of those whom you have trusted, and that those who have all along denied that they were acting in Philip's interests may now mount the platform in their defence—that is the prospect which terrifies me. {290} Tell me, Eubulus, why it was, that at the recent trial of your cousin Hegesilaus,[n] and of Thrasybulus, the uncle of Niceratus, when the primary question[n] was before the jury, you would not even respond when they called upon you; and that when you rose to speak on the assessment of the penalty,[n] you uttered not a word in their defence, but only asked the jury to be indulgent to you? Do you refuse to ascend the platform in defence of kinsmen and relations, {291} and will you then do so in defence of Aeschines, who, when Aristophon was prosecuting Philonicus, and in accusing him was denouncing your own acts, joined with him in accusing you, and was found in the ranks of your enemies? You frightened your countrymen here by saying that they must either march down to the Peiraeus at once, and pay the war-tax, and convert the festival-fund into a war-fund, or else pass the decree advocated by Aeschines and proposed by the shameless Philocrates—{292} a decree, of which the result was that the Peace became a disgraceful instead of a fair one, and that these men have ruined everything by their crimes: and have you, after all this, become reconciled to him? You uttered imprecations upon Philip, in the presence of the people, and swore by the life of your children that you would be glad if perdition seized him; and will you now come to the aid of Aeschines? How can perdition seize Philip, when you are trying to save those who take bribes from him? {293} Why is it that you prosecuted Moerocles for misappropriating 20 drachmae out of the sums paid by each of the lessees of the mines, and indicted Ctesiphon for the theft of sacred moneys, because he paid 7 minae into the bank three days too late; and yet, when men have taken money and confess it, and are convicted, by being caught in the very act, of having done so in order to bring about the ruin of our allies, you do not prosecute them, but even command their acquittal? {294} But the appalling character of these crimes and the great watchfulness and caution that they call for, and the triviality of the offences for which you prosecuted those other men, may further be seen in this way. Were there any men in Elis who stole public funds? It is very likely indeed. Well, had any of them anything to do with the overthrow of the democracy there? Not one of them. Again, while Olynthus was standing, were there others of the same character there? I am sure that there were. Was it then through them that Olynthus was destroyed? No. Again, do you not suppose that in Megara there was someone who was a thief and who embezzled public funds? There must have been. Well, has any such person been shown to be responsible for the recent crisis there? {295} Not one. But of what sortarethe men who commit crimes of such a character and magnitude? They are those who count themselves worthy to be styled friends and guest-friends of Philip, who would fain be generals, who claim[n] to be leaders, who must needs be exalted above the people. Was not Perillus put on his trial lately before the Three Hundred at Megara, because he went to Philip's court; and did not Ptoeodorus, the first man in Megara in wealth, family, and distinction, come forward and beg him off, and send him back again to Philip? and was not the consequence that the one came back at the head of the mercenaries, while the other was churning the butter[n] at home? {296} For there is nothing, nothing, I say, in the world, which you must be so careful not to do, as not to allow any one to become more powerful than the People. I would have no man acquitted or doomed, to please any individual. Only let us be sure that the man whose actions acquit or condemn him will receive from you the verdict he deserves. {297} That is the true democratic principle. And further, it is true that many men have come to possess great influence with you at particular times—Callistratus, and again Aristophon, Diophantus, and others before them. But where did each of these exercise his primacy? In the Assembly of the People. But in the law-courts no man has ever, to this day, carried more influence than the laws and the juror's oath. Do not then allow the defendant to have such influence to-day. To prove to you that there is good reason for you not to trust, but to beware of such influence, I will read you an oracle of the gods, who always protect the city far better than do its foremost citizens. (To the clerk.) Read the oracles.
[The oracles are read.]
{298} You hear, men of Athens, the warnings of the gods. If these responses were given by them when you were at war, they mean that you must beware of your generals, since in war it is the generals who are leaders; but if they were uttered after you had made peace, they must refer to those who are at the head of your government; for these are the leaders whom you obey, and it is by these that you are in danger of being led astray. 'And hold the state together' [says the oracle] 'until all are of one mind, and afford no joy to their foes.' {299} Which event then, men of Athens, do you think would afford joy to Philip—the acquittal of one who has brought about all this evil, or his punishment? His acquittal, I am sure. But the oracle, you see, says that we should so act as not to afford joy to our foes; and therefore, by the mouth of Zeus, of Dione,[n] and of all the gods, is this exhortation given to us all, that with one mind we chastise those who have done any service to our enemies. Without are those who are plotting against us, within are their confederates. The part of the plotters is to offer the bribe; that of their confederates is to receive it, and to save from condemnation those who have received it.
{300} And further, it needs no more than human reason to arrive at the conclusion that nothing can be more hateful and dangerous than to allow your first citizen to be intimate with those whose objects are not those of the People. Consider by what means Philip has become master of the entire situation, and by what means he has accomplished the greatest of his successes. It has been by purchasing the opportunities for action from those who offered them for sale—by corrupting and exciting the aspirations of the leaders of their several cities. {301} These have been the means. Now both of these methods it is in your power, if you wish it, to render futile to-day, if you will refuse to listen to prominent persons who speak in defence of such practices, and will thus prove that they have no power over you—for now they assert that they have you under their control—while at the same time you punish the man who has sold himself, and let all the world see what you have done. {302} For you would have reason enough, men of Athens, for being angry with any man who had acted so, and had betrayed your allies and your friends and your opportunities (for with these are bound up the whole prosperity or adversity of every people), but with no one more than with Aeschines, or with greater justice. After taking up a position as one of those who mistrusted Philip—after being the first and the only man to perceive that Philip was the common enemy of all the Hellenes—he deserted, he betrayed you; he suddenly became Philip's supporter. Surely he deserves to die many times over! {303} Nay, he himself will not be able to deny that these things are so. For who was it that brought Ischander forward before you originally, stating that he had come from the friends of Athens in Arcadia? Who was it that cried out that Philip was organizing Hellas and the Peloponnese against you, while you were asleep? Who was it that delivered those long and noble orations to the people, that read to you the decrees of Miltiades and Themistocles, and the oath of the young soldiers[n] in the temple of Aglaurus? {304} Was it not the defendant? Who was it that persuaded you to send embassies almost as far as the Red Sea, on the ground that Philip was plotting against Hellas, and that it was for you to foresee this and not to sacrifice the interests of the Hellenes? Was it not Eubulus who proposed the decree, while the ambassador to the Peloponnese was the defendant Aeschines? What expressions he used in his address to the people, after he arrived there, is best known to himself: but I know you all remember what he reported to you. {305} Many a time in the course of his speech he called Philip 'barbarian' and 'devil'; and he reported the delight of the Arcadians at the thought that Athens was now waking up and attending to public affairs. One thing he told us, which caused him, he said, more distress than anything else. As he was leaving, he met Atrestidas, who was travelling home from Philip's court, and with him were walking some thirty women and children. Wondering at this, he asked one of the travellers who the man was, and what this crowd was along with him; {306} and on hearing that it was Atrestidas, who was on his way home, and that these with him were captives from Olynthus whom Philip had given him as a present, he was struck with the atrocity of the thing and burst into tears, and lamented the unhappy condition of Hellas, that she should allow such tragedies to pass unnoticed. At the same time he counselled you to send representatives to Arcadia to denounce Philip's agents, saying that his friends told him that if Athens took notice of the matter and sent envoys, Philip's agents would be punished. {307} Such, men of Athens, was the tenor of his speeches then; and very noble they were, and worthy of this city. But when he had been to Macedonia, and had seen the enemy of himself and of the Hellenes, were his speeches couched any more in the same or a similar tone? Far from it! He told you that you must neither remember your forefathers nor mention your trophies, nor go to the aid of any one. He was amazed, he said, at those who urged you to confer with the rest of the Hellenes in regard to the Peace with Philip, as though there was any need to convince some one else about a matter which was purely your own affair. {308} And as for Philip, 'Why, good gracious!' said he, 'Philip is the most thorough Hellene in the world, a most able speaker, and most friendly towards Athens: only there are certain persons in Athens so unreasonable and so churlish, that they are not ashamed to slander him and call him "barbarian".' Now is it possible that the man who had formerly spoken as Aeschines did, should now have dared to speak in such a way, if he had not been corrupted? What? {309} Is there a man who after conceiving such detestation for Atrestidas, owing to those children and women from Olynthus, could have endured to act in conjunction with Philocrates, who brought freeborn Olynthian women here to gratify his lust, and is so notorious for his abominable living, that it is unnecessary for me now to use any offensive or unpleasant expression about him; for if I say that Philocrates brought women here, the rest will be understood by all of you and of the bystanders, and you will, I am sure, pity the poor unhappy creatures—though Aeschines felt no pity for them, and shed no tears for Hellas at the sight of them, or at the thought of the outrages they were suffering among their own allies at the hands of our ambassadors. {310} No! he will shed tears on his own behalf—he whose proceedings as ambassador have had such results—and perhaps he will bring forward his children, and mount them upon the platform. But, gentlemen of the jury, when you see the children of Aeschines, remember that the children of many of your allies and friends are now vagabonds, wandering in beggary, owing to the cruel treatment they have suffered in consequence of his conduct, and that these deserve your compassion far more than those whose father is a criminal and a traitor. Remember that your own children have been robbed even of their hopes by these men, who inserted among the terms of the Peace the clause which extended it to posterity. And when you see the tears of Aeschines, remember that you have now before you a man who urged you to send representatives to Arcadia to denounce the agents of Philip. {311} Now to-day you need send no embassy to the Peloponnese; you need take no long journey; you need incur no travelling expenses. Each of you need only come as far as this platform, to deposit the vote which piety and justice demand of him, on behalf of your country; and to condemn the man who—I call Earth and Heaven to witness!—after originally delivering the speeches which I described, speaking of Marathon and of Salamis, and of your battles and your trophies, suddenly—so soon as he had set foot in Macedonia—changed his tone completely, and told you that you must not remember your forefathers, nor recount your trophies, nor go to the aid of any one, nor take common counsel with the Hellenes—who all but told you that you must pull down your walls. {312} Never throughout all time, up to this day, have speeches more shameful than these been delivered before you. What Hellene, what foreigner, is so dense, or so uninstructed, or so fierce in his hatred of our city, that if one were to put to him this question, and say, 'Tell me now; of all Hellas, as it now is—all this inhabited country—is there any part which would have been called by this name, or inhabited by the Hellenes who now possess it, unless those who fought at Marathon and Salamis, our forefathers, had displayed that high prowess on their behalf?' Why, I am certain that not one would answer 'Yes': they would say that all these regions must have been conquered by the barbarians. {313} If then no single man, not even one of our enemies, would have deprived them of these their panegyrics and praises, does Aeschines forbid you to remember them—you their descendants—in order that he himself may receive money? In all other blessings, moreover, the dead have no share; but the praises which follow their noble deeds are the peculiar possession of those who have died thus; for then even envy opposes them no longer. Of these praises Aeschines would deprive them; and justly, therefore, would he now be deprived of his privileges as as a citizen, and justly, in the name of your forefathers, would you exact from him this penalty. Such words you used, nevertheless, in the wickedness of your heart, to despoil and traduce the deeds of our forefathers, and by your word you ruined all our interests in very deed. {314} And then, as the outcome of this, you are a landed gentleman, and have become a personage of consequence! For this, too, you must notice. Before he had wrought every kind of mischief against the city he acknowledged that he had been a clerk; he was grateful to you for having elected him, and behaved himself modestly. But since he has wrought countless evils, he has drawn up his eyebrows, and if any one speaks of 'Aeschines the late clerk', he is his enemy at once, and declares that he has been insulted: he walks through the market-place with his cloak trailing down to his ankles, keeping step with Pythocles,[n] and puffing out his cheeks—already one of Philip's friends and guest-friends, if you please—one of those who would be rid of the democracy, and who regard the established constitution as so much tempestuous madness—he who was once the humble servant of the Round Chamber.
{315} I wish now to recapitulate to you summarily the ways in which Philip got the better of you in policy, when he had taken these heaven-detested men to aid him. It is well worth while to review and contemplate the course of his deception as a whole. It began with his anxiety for peace; for his country was being plundered, and his ports were closed, so that he could enjoy none of the advantages which they afforded; and so he sent the messengers who uttered those generous sentiments on his behalf—Neoptolemus, Aristodemus, and Ctesiphon. {316} But so soon as we went to him as your ambassadors, he immediately hired the defendant to second and co-operate with the abominable Philocrates, and so get the better of those who wished to act uprightly; and he composed such a letter to you as he thought would be most likely to help him to obtain peace. {317} But even so, he had no better chance than before of effecting anything of importance against you, unless he could destroy the Phocians. And this was no easy matter. For he had now been reduced, as if by chance, to a position in which he must either find it impossible to effect any of his designs, or else must perforce lie and forswear himself, and make all men, whether Hellenes or foreigners, witnesses of his own baseness. {318} For if, on the one hand, he received the Phocians as allies, and administered the oath to them together with yourselves, it at once became necessary for him to break his oaths to the Thessalians and Thebans; for he had sworn to aid the latter in the reduction of Boeotia, and the former in the recovery of their place in the Amphictyonic Council; but if, on the other hand, he refused to receive them (as in fact he did reject them), he thought that you would not let him cross the Pass, but would rally to Thermopylae—and so you would have done, had you not been misled; and if this happened, he calculated that he would be unable to march across. {319} Nor had he to learn this from others; he had already the testimony of his own experience. For on the occasion of his first defeat of the Phocians, when he destroyed their mercenaries and their leader and general, Onomarchus, although not a single human being, Hellene or foreigner, came to the aid of the Phocians, except yourselves, so far was he from crossing the Pass and thereafter carrying out any of his designs, that he could not even approach near it. {320} He realized, I imagine, quite clearly, that at a time when the feelings of the Thessalians were turning against him, and the Pheraeans (to take the first instance) refused to accompany him—when the Thebans were being worsted and had lost a battle, and a trophy had been erected to celebrate their defeat—it was impossible for him to cross the Pass, if you rallied to its defence; and that if he made the attempt he would regret it, unless some cunning could be called in to aid him. How then, he asked, can I avoid open falsehood, and yet accomplish all that I wish without appearing perjured? How can it be done? It can be done, if I can get some of the Athenians to deceive the Athenians. In that case the discredit no longer falls to my share. {321} And so Philip's own envoys first informed you that Philip declined to receive the Phocians as allies; and then these men took up the tale, and addressed you to the effect that it was inconvenient to Philip to receive the Phocians as your allies openly, on account of the Thebans and the Thessalians; but if he gets command of the situation, they said, and is granted the Peace, he will do just what we should now request him to promise to do. {322} So they obtained the Peace from you, by holding out these seductive hopes, without including the Phocians. But they had still to prevent the expedition to Thermopylae, for the purpose of which, despite the Peace, your fifty ships were still lying ready at anchor, in order that, if Philip marched, you might prevent him. {323} How then could it be done? what cunning could be used in regard to this expedition in its turn? They must deprive you of the necessary time, by bringing the crisis upon you suddenly, so that, even if you wished to set out, you might be unable to do so. So this, it appears, was what these men undertook to do; while for my part, as you have often been told, I was unable to depart in advance of them, and was prevented from sailing even when I had hired a boat for the purpose. {324} But it was further necessary that the Phocians should come to believe in Philip and give themselves up to him voluntarily, in order that there might be no delay in carrying out the plan, and that no hostile decree whatever might issue from you. 'And therefore,' said he, 'the Athenian ambassadors shall announce that the Phocians are to be preserved from destruction, so that even if any one persists in distrusting me, he will believe them, and put himself in my hands. We will summon the Athenians themselves, so that they may imagine that all that they want is secured, and may pass no hostile decree: but the ambassadors shall make such reports about us, and give such promises, as will prevent them from moving under any circumstances.' {325} It was in this way, and by such trickery as this, that all was ruined, through the action of these doomed wretches. For immediately afterwards, as you know, instead of seeing Thespiae and Plataeae repeopled, you heard that Orchomenus and Coroneia had been enslaved; instead of Thebes being humbled and stripped of her insolence and pride, the walls of your own allies were being razed, and it was the Thebans who were razing them—the Thebans who, according to Aeschines' story, were as good as broken up into villages. {326} Instead of Euboea being handed over to you in exchange for Amphipolis, Philip is making new bases of operations against you in Euboea itself, and is plotting incessantly against Geraestus and Megara. Instead of the restoration of Oropus to you, we are making an expedition under arms to defend Drymus and the country about Panactum[n]—a step which we never took so long as the Phocians remained unharmed. {327} Instead of the restoration of the ancestral worship in the temple, and the exaction of the debt due to the god, the true Amphictyons are fugitives, who have been banished and their land laid desolate; and Macedonians, foreigners, men who never were Amphictyons in the past, are now forcing their way to recognition; while any one who mentions the sacred treasures is thrown from the rocks, and our city has been deprived of her right to precedence in consulting the oracle. {328} Indeed, the story of all that has happened to the city sounds like a riddle. Philip has spoken no falsehood, and has accomplished all that he wished: you hoped for the fulfilment of your fondest prayers, and have seen the very opposite come to pass; you suppose yourselves to be at peace, and have suffered more terribly than if you had been at war; while these men have received money for all this, and up to this very day have not paid the penalty. {329} For that the situation has been made what it is solely by bribery, and that these men have received their price for it all, has, I feel sure, long been plain to you in many ways; and I am afraid that, quite against my will, I may long have been wearying you by attempting to prove with elaborate exactness what you already know for yourselves. {330} Yet this one point I ask you still to listen to. Is there, gentlemen of the jury, one of the ambassadors whom Philip sent, whose statue in bronze you would erect in the market-place? Nay, one to whom you would give maintenance in the Town Hall, or any other of those complimentary grants with which you honour your benefactors? I think not. And why? For you are of no ungrateful or unfair or mean disposition. You would reply, that it is because all that they did was done in the interest of Philip, and nothing in your own; and the reply would be true and just. {331} Do you imagine then that, when such are your sentiments, Philip's are not also such? Do you imagine that he gives all these magnificent presents because your ambassadors conducted their mission honourably and uprightly with a view toyourinterest? Impossible. Think of Hegesippus, and the manner in which he and the ambassadors who accompanied him were received by Philip. To go no further, he banished Xenocleides, the well-known poet, by public proclamation, because he received the ambassadors, his own fellow citizens. For so it is that he behaves to men who honestly say what they think on your behalf: while to those who have sold themselves he behaves as he has to these men. Do we then need witnesses? do we need stronger proofs than these to establish my conclusions? Will any one be able to steal these conclusions from your minds?
{332} Now I was told a most extraordinary thing just now by some one who accosted me in front of the Court, namely, that the defendant is prepared to accuse Chares, and that by such methods and such arguments as that, he hopes to deceive you. I will not lay undue stress on the fact that Chares,[n] subjected to every form of trial, was found to have acted on your behalf, so far as was in his power, with faithfulness and loyalty, while his frequent shortcomings were due to those who, for money, were cruelly injuring your cause. But I will go much further. Let it be granted that all that the defendant will say of Chares is true. {333} Even so it is utterly absurd that Aeschines should accuse him. For I do not lay the blame on Aeschines for anything that was done in the course of the war—it is the generals who have to account for all such proceedings—nor do I hold him responsible for the city's having made peace. So far I acquit him of everything. What then do I allege, and at what point does my accusation begin? I accuse him of having supported Philocrates, at the time when the city was making peace, instead of supporting those who proposed what was for your real good. I accuse him of taking bribes, and subsequently, on the Second Embassy, of wasting time, and of not carrying out any of your instructions. I accuse him of cheating the city, and ruining everything, by the suggestion of hopes that Philip would do all that we desired; and then I accuse him of speaking afterwards in defence of one of whom[n] all warned him to beware, on account of the great crimes of which he had been guilty. {334} These are my charges, and these are what you must bear in mind. For a Peace that was honest and fair, and men that had sold nothing and had told no falsehoods afterwards, I would even have commended, and would have bidden you crown them. But the injuries which some general may have done you have nothing to do with the present examination. Where is the general who has caused the loss of Halus? or of the Phocians? or of Doriscus? or of Cersobleptes? or of the Sacred Mountain? or of Thermopylae? Who has secured Philip a road to Attica that leads entirely through the country of allies and friends? who has given Coroneia and Orchomenus and Euboea to others? who has all but given Megara to the enemy, only recently? who has made the Thebans powerful? {335} Not one of all these heavy losses was the work of the generals; nor does Philip hold any of these places because you were persuaded to concede it to him by the treaty of peace. The losses are due to these men and to their corruption. If then he evades these points, and tries to mislead you by speaking of every other possible subject, this is how you must receive his attempt. 'We are not sitting in judgement upon any general,' you must say, 'nor are you on your trial for the things of which you speak. Do not tell us whether some one else may not also be responsible for the ruin of the Phocians: prove to us that no responsibility attaches to yourself. Why do you tell usnowof the alleged iniquities of Demosthenes, instead of accusing him when his report was under examination? For such an omission alone you deserve to perish. {336} Do not speak of the beauty of peace, nor of its advantages. No one holds you responsible for the city's having made peace. But show that it was not a shameful and discreditable peace; that we have not since been deceived in many ways; that all was not lost. It is for all these things that the responsibility has been proved to be yours. And why, even to this hour, do you praise the man who has done us all this evil?' If you keep a watch upon him thus, he will have nothing to say; and then he will lift up his voice here, in spite of all his vocal exercises, to no purpose.
{337} And yet perhaps it is necessary for me to speak about his voice also. For of this too, I am told, he is extremely proud, and expects to carry you away by his declamation. But seeing that you used to drive him away and hiss him out of the theatre and almost stone him, when he was performing the tragic story of Thyestes or of the Trojan War, so that at last he gave up his third-rate playing, you would be acting in the most extraordinary way if, now that he has wrought countless ills, not on the stage, but in the most important affairs in the public life of the state, you listened to him for his fine voice. {338} By no means must you do this, or give way to any foolish sentiment. Rather reflect, that if you were testing the qualifications of a herald, you would then indeed look for a fine voice; but when you are testing those of an ambassador, or a man who claims the administration of any public business, you must look for an upright man—a man who bears himself proudly indeed, as your representative, but seeks no more than equality with yourselves—as I myself refused to pay respect to Philip, but did pay respect to the captives, whom I saved, and never for a moment drew back; whereas Aeschines rolled at Philip's feet, and chanted his paeans, while he looks down upon you. {339} And further, whenever you notice that cleverness or a good voice or any other natural advantage has been given to an honest and public-spirited man, you ought all to congratulate him and help him to cultivate his gift; for the gift is an advantage in which you all share, as well as he. But when the gift is found in a corrupt and villainous man, who can never resist the chance of gain, then you should exclude him from your presence, and give a harsh and hostile reception to his words: for villainy, which wins from you the reputation of ability, is the enemy of the State. {340} You see what great troubles have fallen upon the city, through those qualities which have brought renown to Aeschines. But whereas all other faculties are more or less independent, the gift of eloquence, when it meets with hostility from you who listen, is a broken thing. Listen, then, to the defendant as you would listen to a corrupt villain, who will not speak a single word of truth.