Chapter VII: The Grecian Orators (1)

WHAT CONSTITUTED THEIR ART

When you shall say, "As others do, so will I: I renounce, I
am sorry for it, my early visions; I must eat the good of
the land and let learning and romantic expectation go,
until a more convenient season"; then dies the man in you;
then once more perish the buds of art, and poetry, and
science, as they have died already in a thousand thousand
men. The hour of that choice is the crisis of your history,
and see that you hold yourself fast by the intellect.
--RALPH WALDO EMERSON: _Dartmouth Address_

If a man would become a truly great orator, he must put aside all mere selfish desires and heed only the call of the best that is in him. He must have visions, and realize them; he must act according to his own understanding, and not become the pliant tool of another, be that other a political boss, a political machine, or an unholy ambition; he must be himself, and refuse to echo the thoughts of others; and, as a foundation upon which all these virtues are to be built, must be the one great virtue of industry.

Through all climes and in all ages men have achieved eminence as orators by persevering efforts only, and while, at times, an orator, full-fledged and ready for the fray, has burst into the list and played his part upon the stage of action, such occurrences have been so rare as to make them but examples of the exception that proves the rule. Therefore, let him who would become proficient in the art of speech make up his mind to labor in order to attain that proficiency.

At the same time, we should remember that this labor need not necessarily be hard, need not be what is termed laborious, because the main requisite is that we should not interfere with nature in her work. It is perfectly natural for man to breathe properly, and yet how few do so; it is natural for man to speak, and yet how few speak properly! If we aim to remove the defects or errors that interfere with Nature doing properly her assigned task, we need not worry but that she will perform it. Take up the work of becoming a public speaker because you love the art of oratory, labor at it because you desire to accomplish it, and it will submit to you because all arts love to be mastered.

The history of oratory is a history of the world, just as the history of a great central character is an epitome of the history of his time, and as it is best to study the lives of the makers of history in order to understand the events of history, so it is best to examine the orators in order that we may learn of oratory.

In ancient times oratory was considered the art of arts because it embraced all other arts and was therefore the most difficult of achievements. Positions of honor and renown were bestowed upon those who were capable of giving fitting expression to their thoughts in public. Poets sang the praises of orators and made them the heroes of their songs. The psalmists and prophets are but types of the orator, and the actor of today is the outcome of the player of old who was more a speaker than he was an actor.

Every citizen, at one time, was his own lawyer, spoke in his own defense, and advocated his own cause. Then came the era of the speech writers, who prepared the matter for the citizen to deliver; and finally, the professional advocate of today who appears in behalf of his client and acts and speaks for him.

Let us consider the productions of the orators of that marvellous period in the world's history which dates from 500 to 300 years previous to the coming of Christ; and in doing so, let us not forget that they are all translations into a foreign tongue, and that in their transition from one language into another they have lost much of their force and beauty. Another thing to bear in mind is that an oration does not read as it sounds. It lacks the magnetism of the living speaker, the presence of the assembled multitude, the concern in the subject, and the gravity of the interest at stake, to lend a completeness to the words and to impregnate them with the expression that life alone possesses, turning the dead words into living thoughts. Here, in these orations, we possess the mere bodies--mummies, they might well be termed--the spirit having departed ages ago; but by the influence of the imaginative mind of the reader they may be compelled to assume some semblance of their former greatness.

The best way of judging of the power of orators, and the influence of oratory, is to study the effect they had on the subjects with which they dealt, the audiences they addressed, and on posterity, which looks with an unprejudiced eye. All great orations have not accomplished the purposes for which they were uttered, but they have all had a decided influence on shaping the thoughts of man and directing his actions many years after the orators who uttered the words have passed back in to the elements whence they came. Demosthenes did not succeed in saving his loved Athens from the clutches of Philip, but his burning words in behalf of liberty have stirred the hearts of men in other lands and other ages and caused them to battle in behalf of the principles for which the ancient Grecian spoke; Edmund Burke and the Earl of Chatham did not succeed in turning Lord North from his determination to subdue the colonies of North America by force of arms, but their noble speeches inspired their brother Whigs in America to rush to arms and sacrifice their all in the struggle for independence; Abraham Lincoln, in his debate with Stephen A. Douglas, did not prevail on the electorate of the State of Illinois to return legislators who would elect him to the United States Senate, but his clear reasoning and masterful presentation of facts in that famous debate drew the attention of the nation to him and contributed much toward making him President of the United States. Oratory cannot fail in ultimately accomplishing its object, although it may not accomplish the specific object that the speaker had in mind at the time of uttering the oration, because truth must always ultimately triumph, and real oratory is always truth.

Oratory requires a large theme. Men cannot grow eloquent over a ship subsidy; they may rhetorically wave the flag of their country and claim the land will go to ruin unless the subsidy is granted, but there can be no genuine enthusiasm, no eloquence, over such a cause. When Henry Clay declared that the American flag should be honored wherever it floated, that its folds should protect its citizens on sea as well as on land, he had a theme of such magnitude that was able to move his country to take up arms in defense of the doctrine he espoused. When Lincoln started on his mission to preserve the Union, he held a tremendous question in hand--the question whether government by the people should pass from the earth--and this question brought as a response the immortal Gettysburg Address. William H. Grady, when speaking to the North on the subject of the New South, had a theme of vast importance--the theme of a reunited country. Theodore Roosevelt, in adopting "Conservation of Natural Wealth" as his subject, brought to the minds of his countrymen a truth to which they had blindly closed their eyes since the settlement of the Western Hemisphere. These are subjects upon which, if the man is prepared, he can grow eloquent; and as soon as the people seriously consider questions of moment to themselves and their posterity, men will come forward who are able to discuss such questions with eloquence that will equal that of the past. Oratory is not dead, nor is it sleeping; it is merely awaiting the sound of the voice it knows to cause it to come forth. It is no use calling to it in a foreign tongue--it must be spoken to in the voice of truth. Right, liberty, justice, the rights of man to enjoy the blessings of life--these are themes that will cause eloquence to become once more the art of arts.

EXAMPLES OF GRECIAN ORATORY[1]

For the benefit of the student of oratory, specimen orations are here given of ten of the most famous Grecian orators. Short biographical and other notes accompany each selection, as guides to the student regarding the careers of the orators and the circumstances under which the orations were delivered.

ANTIPHON

Antiphon, the oldest of the ten Attic orators, and founder of Grecian political oratory, was the first to systematize the rules and principles for the guidance of public speakers. He was born at Rhamnus, Attica, about 480 B.C., and, because of his activity in establishing the oligarchy of the Four Hundred, was executed at Athens in 411 B.C., after a change had taken place in the government. He was noted for his readiness in debate, and gained great renown by composing orations by which many accused of capital offenses defended themselves.

The following oration was composed by Antiphon for a man by the name of Helus, who was accused of having murdered Herodes, who, while on a journey with Helus, mysteriously disappeared.

_On The Murder of Herodes._ (Helus, a Mitylenean, having
been accused of the murder of Herodes, who had mysteriously
disappeared from the boat in which the two had embarked in
company, defended himself in the following speech, composed
for him by Antiphon):

I could have wished, gentlemen, that I possessed the gift
of eloquence and legal experience proportionate to my
adversity. Adversity I have experienced in an unusual
degree, but in eloquence and legal experience I am sadly
deficient. The result is that, in circumstances where I was
compelled to suffer personal ill-usage on a false charge,
legal experience did not come to my rescue; and here, when
my salvation depends on a true statement of the facts, I
feel embarrassed by my incapacity for speaking. Many an
innocent man has been condemned because of his inability to
present clearly the truth and justice of his cause. Many a
guilty man, on the other hand, has escaped punishment
through skilful pleading. It follows, then, that if the
accused lacks experience on these matters, his fate depends
rather on the representation of his prosecutors than on the
actual facts and true version of the case.

I shall not ask you, gentlemen, to give me an impartial
hearing. And yet I am aware that such is the practice of
most men on trial, who have no faith in their own cause or
confidence in your justice. No, I make no such request,
because I know full well that, like all good men and true,
you will grant me the same hearing that you grant the
prosecution. I do ask you, however, to be indulgent if I
commit any indiscretion of speech, and to attribute it
rather to my inexperience than to the injustice of my
cause. But if my argument has any weight I pray you will
ascribe it rather to the force of truth than rhetorical art.

I have always felt that it is not just either that one who
has done wrong should be saved through eloquence, or that
one who has done no wrong should be condemned through lack
of eloquence. Unskilful speaking is but a sin of the
tongue; but wrongful acts are sins of the soul. Now it is
only natural that a man whose life is in danger should
commit some indiscretion of speech; for he must be intent
not only on what he says but on the outcome of the trial,
since all that is still uncertain is controlled rather by
chance than by providence. This fact inspires great fear in
a man whose life is at stake. In fact, I have often
observed that the most experienced orators speak with
embarrassment when their lives are in danger. But whenever
they seek to accomplish some purpose without danger they
are more successful. My request for indulgence, then
gentlemen, is both natural and lawful; and it is no less
your duty to grant it than my right to make it.

I shall now consider the case for the prosecution in
detail. And first I shall show you that I have been brought
to trial here in violation of law and justice, not on the
chance of eluding your judgment--for I would commit my life
to your decision, even if you were bound by no oath to
pronounce judgment according to law, since I am conscious
that I have done no wrong and feel assured that you will do
me justice: no, my purpose in showing you this is rather
that the lawlessness and violence of my accusers may bear
witness to you of their better feeling towards me.

First, then, though they imprisoned me as a malefactor,
they have indicted me for homicide--an outrage that no one
has ever suffered in this land. For I am not a malefactor,
or amenable to the law of malefactors, which has to do only
with thieves and highwaymen. So far, then, as they have
dealt with me by summary process, they have made it
possible for you to make my acquittal lawful and righteous.

But they argue that homicide is a species of malefaction. I
admit that it is a great crime, as great as sacrilege or
treason. But these crimes are dealt with each according to
its own particular laws. Moreover, they compel me to
undergo trial in this place of public assemblage, where all
men charged with murder are usually forbidden to appear;
and furthermore they would commute to a fine in my case the
sentence of death imposed by law on all murderers, not for
my benefit, but for their own private gain, thereby
defrauding the dead of lawful satisfaction. Their reason
for so doing you will perceive as my argument advances.

In the second place, you all know that the courts decide
murder cases in the open air, for no reason than that the
judges may not assemble in the same place with those whose
hands have been defiled with blood, and that the prosecutor
may not be sheltered beneath the same roof with the
murderer. This custom my accusers have utterly disregarded.
Nay, they have even failed to take the customary solemn
oath that, whatever other crimes I may have committed, they
will prosecute me for murder alone, and will allow no
meritorious act of mine to stand in the way of my
condemnation. Thus do they prosecute me unsworn; and even
their witnesses testify against me without having taken the
oath. And then they expect you, gentlemen, to believe these
unsworn witnesses and condemn me to death, when they have
made it impossible for you to accept such testimony by
their violation and contempt of the law.

But they contend if I had been set free I would have fled.
What motive could I have had? For, if I did not mind exile,
I might have refused to come home when summoned, and have
incurred judgment by default, or, having come, might have
left voluntarily after my first trial. For such a course is
open to all. And yet my accusers in their lawlessness seek
to deprive me alone of the common right of all Greeks.

This leads me, gentlemen, to say a word about the laws that
govern my case. And I think you will admit that they are
good and righteous, since, though very ancient, they still
remain unchanged--an unmistakable proof of excellence in
laws. For time and experience teach men what is good and
what is not good. You ought not, therefore, judge by the
arguments of my accusers whether the laws are good or bad,
but rather judge by the laws whether their claims are just
or unjust. So perfect, indeed, are the laws that relate to
homicide, that no one has ever dared to disturb them. But
these men have dared to constitute themselves lawmakers in
order to effect their wicked purposes, and disregarding
these ordinances they seek unjustly to compass my ruin.

Their lawlessness, however, will not help them, for they
well know that they have no sworn witness to testify
against me. Moreover, they did not make a single decisive
trial of the matter, as they would have done if they had
confidence in their cause. No, they left room for
controversy and argument, as if, in fact, they meant to
dispute the previous verdict. The result is that I gain
nothing by an acquittal, since it will be open to them to
say that I was acquitted as a malefactor, not as a
murderer, and catching me again they will ask to have me
sentenced to death on a charge of homicide. Wicked
schemers! Would ye have the judges set aside a verdict
obtained by fair means, and put me a second time in
jeopardy of my life for the same offense? But this is not
all. They would not even allow me to offer bail according
to law, and thus escape imprisonment, though they have
never before denied this privilege even to an alien. And
yet the officers in charge of malefactors conform to the
same custom. I, alone, then, have failed to derive
advantage from this common right conferred by law. This
wrong they have done me for two reasons: First, that they
might render me helpless to prepare for my defense; and,
second, that they might influence my friends, through
anxiety for my safety, to bear false witness against me.
Thus, would they bring disgrace upon me and mine for life.

In this trial, then, I am at a disadvantage in respect to
many points of your law and of justice. Nevertheless, I
shall try to prove my innocence. And yet I realize that it
will be difficult immediately to dissipate the false
impression which these men have long conspired to create.
For it is impossible for any man to guard against the
unexpected.

Now, the facts in the case, gentlemen, are briefly these: I
sailed from Mitylene in the same boat with Herodes, whom I
am accused of having murdered. Our destination was the
same--Aenus, but our objectives were different. I went to
visit my father, who happened to be at Aenus at that time;
Herodes went to sell some slaves to certain Thracian
merchants. Both the slaves and the merchants sailed with us.

To confirm these statements I shall now offer the testimony
of competent witnesses.

To continue, then, we were compelled by a violent storm to
put in at a port on the Methymnian coast, and there we
found the boat on which they allege I killed Herodes.

Now I would have you bear in mind that this whole affair
took place not through design on my part, but through
chance. For it was by chance that Herodes undertook the
voyage with me. It was by chance that we encountered the
storm, which compelled us to put in at the Methymnian port.
And it was by chance that we found the cabined boat in
which we sought shelter against the violence of the storm.

After we had boarded the other boat and had taken some
wine, Herodes left us, never to return. But I did not leave
the boat at all that night. On the day after Herodes
disappeared, however, I sought him as diligently as any of
our company, and felt his loss as keenly. It was I who
proposed sending a messenger to Mitylene, and when no one
else was willing to go I offered to send my own attendant.
Of course, I would not have done this if I had murdered
Herodes, for I would be sending an informant against
myself. Finally, it was only after I was satisfied by
diligent search that Herodes was nowhere to be found, that
I sailed away with the first favorable wind. Such are the
facts.

What inference can you draw from these facts other than
that I am an innocent man? Even these men did not accuse me
on the spot, while I was still in the country, although
they knew of the affair. No, the truth was too apparent at
that time. Only after I had departed, and they had had an
opportunity to conspire against me, did they bring this
indictment.

Now the prosecution have two theories of the death of
Herodes. One is that he was killed on shore, the other that
he was cast into the sea. First, then, they say that I
killed Herodes on shore, by striking him on the head with a
stone. This is impossible, since, as I have proved, I did
not leave the boat that night. Strange that they should
pretend to have accurate knowledge of the manner of his
death, and yet not be able satisfactorily to account for
the disappearance of his body. Evidently this must have
happened near the shore, for, since it was night, and
Herodes was drunk, his murderer could have had no reason to
take him far from the shore. However that may be, two days'
search failed to produce any trace of him. This drives them
to their second hypothesis--that I drowned Herodes. If that
were so, there would be some sign in the boat that the man
was murdered and cast into the sea. No such sign, however,
appears. But they say they have found signs in the boat in
which he drank the wine. And yet they admit he was not
killed in that boat. The utter absurdity of this second
view is shown by the fact that they cannot find the boat
they say I used for the purpose of drowning Herodes, or any
trace of it.

It was not till after I sailed away to Aenus, and the boat
in which Herodes and I made the voyage had returned to
Mitylene, that these men made the examination that led to
the discovery of blood. At once they concluded that I
killed Herodes on that very boat. But when they found that
this theory was inadmissible, since the blood was proved to
be that of sheep, they changed their course and sought to
obtain information by torturing the crew. The poor wretch
whom they first subjected to torture said nothing
compromising about me. But the other, whom they did not
torture till several days later, keeping him near them in
the meantime, is the one who has borne false witness
against me.

All that is possible for you to learn, gentlemen, from the
testimony of human witnesses, you have now heard. It
remains to consider the testimony of the gods, expressed by
signs. For by reliance on these heaven-sent signs you will
best secure the safety of the state both in adversity and
in prosperity. In private matters, too, you ought to attach
great weight to these signs. You all know, of course, that,
when a wicked man embarks in the same boat with a righteous
man, the gods not infrequently cause the shipwreck and
destruction of both because of the sinfulness of one alone.
Again, the righteous, by association with the wicked, have
been brought, if not to destruction, at least into the
greatest dangers that divine wrath can send. Finally, the
presence of guilty men at a sacrifice has often caused the
omens to be unfavorable. Thus do the gods testify to the
guilt and wickedness of man.

In the light of divine testimony, then, my innocence is
established. For no mariner with whom I have sailed has
ever suffered shipwreck. Nor has my presence at a sacrifice
ever caused the omens to be unfavorable.

Now, I feel sure, gentlemen, that if the prosecution could
find evidence that my presence on shipboard or at a
sacrifice had ever caused any mishap, they would insist
upon this as the clearest proof of my guilt. Since,
however, this divine testimony is adverse to their claims,
they ask you to reject it, and to have faith in their
representation. Thus do they run counter to the practice of
reasonable men. For, instead of testing words by facts,
they seek to overthrow facts by words.

Having now concluded my defense, gentlemen, against all
that I can recall of the charge against me, I look to you
for acquittal. On that depends my salvation and the
fulfilment of your oath. For you have sworn to pronounce
judgment according to law. Now, I am not liable to the laws
under which I was arrested, while as to the facts with
which I am charged I can still be brought to trial in the
legal form. And if two trials have been made out of one,
the fault is not mine, but that of my accusers. When,
however, my worst enemies give me the chance of a second
trial, surely you, the impartial awarders of justice, will
never pronounce on the present issue a premature verdict of
murder. Be not so unjust; rather leave something for that
other witness, Time, who aids the zealous seekers of
eternal truth. I should certainly desire that in cases of
homicide the sentence be in accordance with law, but that
the investigation, in every possible instance, be regulated
by justice. In this way the interests of truth and right
would best be secured. For in homicide cases an unjust
sentence banishes truth and justice beyond recall. If,
then, you condemn me, you are bound to abide by the
sentence, however guiltless I may be. No one would dare,
through confidence in his innocence, to contravene the
sentence passed upon him, nor, if conscious of guilt, would
he rebel against the law. We must yield not only to the
truth, but to a verdict against the truth, especially if
there be no one to support our cause. It is for these
reasons that the laws, the oaths, and the solemnities in
murder cases differ from those in all other cases. In this
case of cases it is of the utmost importance that the issue
be clear and the decisions correct. For, otherwise, either
the murdered will be deprived of vengeance or an innocent
man will suffer death unjustly. For their accusation is not
decisive, the result depends on you. Decide, then, justly;
for your decision, if wrong, admits of no remedy.

But how, you may ask, will you decide justly? By compelling
my accusers to take the customary solemn oath before they
put me upon my defense against an indictment for murder.
And how are you to accomplish this? By acquitting me now.
And remember that, even though you acquit me now, I shall
not escape your judgment, since in the other trial, too,
you will be my judges. By an acquittal now you make it
possible to deal with me hereafter as you will, but, if you
condemn me now, my case will not be open to
reconsideration. If, then, you must make any mistake, an
undeserved acquittal is less serious than an unjust
condemnation. For the former is a mistake only; the latter
an eternal disgrace. Take care, then, that you do no
irreparable wrong. Some of you in the past have actually
repented of condemning innocent men, but not one of you has
ever repented of making an undeserved acquittal. Moreover,
involuntary mistakes are pardonable, voluntary
unpardonable. The former we attribute to chance; the latter
to design. Of two risks, then, run the lesser; commit the
involuntary mistake; acquit me.

Now, gentlemen, if my conscience were guilty, I should
never have come into this city. But I did come--with an
abiding faith in the justice of my cause, and strong in
conscious innocence. For not once alone has a clear
conscience raised up and supported a failing body in the
hour of trial and tribulation. A guilty conscience, on the
other hand, is a source of weakness to the strongest body.
The confidence, therefore, with which I appear before you,
is the confidence of innocence.

To conclude, gentlemen, I have only to say that I am not
surprised that my accusers slander me. That is their part;
yours is not to credit their slander. If, on the other
hand, you listen to me, you can afterwards repent, if you
like, and punish me by way of remedy, but, if you listen to
my accusers, and do what they wish, no remedy will then be
admissible. Moreover, no long time will intervene before
you can decide lawfully what the prosecution now asks you
to decide unlawfully. Matters like these require not haste,
but deliberation. On the present occasion, then, take a
survey of the case; on the next, sit in judgment on the
witnesses; form, now, an opinion; later, decide the facts.

It is very easy, indeed, to testify falsely against a man
charged with murder. For, if he be immediately condemned to
death, his false accusers have nothing to fear, since all
danger of retribution is removed on the day of execution.
And, even if the friends of the condemned man cared to
exact satisfaction for malicious prosecution, of what
advantage would it be to him after his death?

Acquit me, then, on this issue, and compel my accusers to
indict me according to law. Your judgment will then be
strictly legal, and, if condemned, I cannot complain that
it was contrary to law. This request I make of you with due
regard to your conscience as well as to my own right. For
upon your oath depends my safety. By whichever of these
considerations you are influenced, you must acquit me.

PERICLES

Pericles is considered by many historians to have been the greatest statesman and orator that Athens produced, but the truth regarding his oratorical ability cannot be verified by his orations, because not one of them, in its entirety, has come down to us. We are indebted to the historian Thucydides for what speeches of Pericles we possess, and he has this to say regarding their authenticity: "I have found it difficult to retain a memory of the precise words that I had heard spoken, and so it was with those who brought me report. I have made the persons say what it seemed to me most opportune for them to say, in light of the situation; at the same time I have adhered as closely as possible to the general sense of what was actually said." Pericles was born about 495 B.C., and died in 429.

_In Favor of the Peloponnesian War_ (432 B.C.). I always
adhere to the same opinion, Athenians, that we should make
no concessions to the Lacedaemonians; although I know that
men are not persuaded to go to war, and act when engaged in
it, with the same temper; but that, according to results,
they also change their views. Still I see that the same
advice, or nearly the same, must be given by me now as
before; and I claim from those of you who are being
persuaded to war, that you will support the common
resolutions, should we ever meet with any reverse; or not,
on the other hand, to lay any claim to intelligence, if
successful. For it frequently happens that the results of
measures proceed no less incomprehensively than the
counsels of man; and therefore we are accustomed to regard
fortune as the author of all things that turn out contrary
to our expectation.

Now the Lacedaemonians were both evidently plotting against
us before, and now especially are doing so. For whereas it
is expressed in the treaty, that we should give and accept
judicial decisions of our differences, and each side [in
the meantime] keep what we have; they have neither
themselves hitherto asked for such a decision, nor do they
accept it when we offer it; but wish our complaints to be
settled by war rather than by words; and are now come
dictating, and no longer expostulating. For they command us
to raise the siege of Potidaea, and to leave Aegina
independent, and to rescind the decree respecting the
Megareans; while these last envoys that have come charge us
also to leave the Greeks independent. But let none of you
think we would be going to war for a trifle, if we did not
rescind the decree respecting the Megareans, which they
principally put forward [saying] that if it were rescinded,
the war would not take place: nor leave it in your mind any
room for self-accusation hereafter, as though you had gone
to war for a trivial thing. For this trifle involves the
whole confirmation, as well as trial, of your purpose. If
you yield to these demands, you will soon also be ordered
to do something greater, as having in this instance obeyed
through fear: but by resolutely refusing you would prove
clearly to them that they must treat with you more on an
equal footing.

Henceforth then make up your minds, either to submit before
you are hurt, or, if we go to war, as I think is better,
alike to make no concession on important or trivial
grounds, nor to keep with fear what we have not acquired;
for both the greatest and the least demand from equals,
imperiously urged on their neighbors previous to a judicial
decision, amounts to the same degree of subjugation.

Now with regards to the war, and the means possessed by
both parties, that we shall not be the weaker side, be
convinced of hearing the particulars. The Peloponnesians
are men who cultivate their land themselves; and they have
no money either in private or public funds. Then they are
inexperienced in long and transmarine wars, as they only
wage them with each other for a short time, owing to their
poverty. And men of this description can neither man fleets
nor often send out land armaments; being at the same time
absent from their private business, and spending from their
own resources; and, moreover, being also shut out from the
sea: but it is superabundant revenues that support wars,
rather than compulsory contributions. And men who till the
land themselves are more ready to wage war with their
persons than with their money: feeling confident, with
regard to the former, that they will escape from dangers;
but not being sure, with regard to the latter, that they
will not spend it before they have done; especially should
the war be prolonged beyond their expectations, as [in this
case] it probably may. For in one battle the Peloponnesians
and their allies might cope with all the Greeks together;
but they could not carry on a war against resources of a
different description to their own; since they have no one
board of council, so as to execute any measure with vigor;
and all having equal votes, and not being of the same
races, each forwards his own interest; for which reasons
nothing generally is brought to completion.

Most of all will they be impeded by scarcity of money,
while, through their slowness in providing it, they
continue to delay their operations; whereas the
opportunities of war wait for no one. Neither, again, is
their raising works against us worth fearing, or their
fleet. With regard to the former, it were difficult even in
time of peace to set up a rival city; much more in a
hostile country, and when we should have raised works no
less against them: and if they build [only] a fort, they
might perhaps hurt some part of our land by incursions and
desertions; it will not, however, be possible for them to
prevent our sailing to their country and raising forts, and
retaliating with our ships, in which we are so strong. For
we have more advantage for land-service from our naval
skill, than they have for naval matters from their skill by
land.

But to become skilful at sea will not easily be acquired by
them. For not even have you, though practicing from the
very time of the Median War, brought it to perfection as
yet; how then shall men who are agriculturists and not
mariners, and, moreover, will not even be permitted to
practice, from being always observed by us with many ships,
achieve anything worth speaking of? Against a few ships
observing them they might run the risk, encouraging their
ignorance by their numbers; but when kept in check by many,
they will remain quiet; and through not practicing will be
the less skilful, and therefore the more afraid. For naval
service is a matter of art, like anything else; and does
not admit of being practiced just when it may happen, as a
bywork; but rather does not even allow of anything else
being a bywork to it.

Even if they should take some of the funds at Olympia or
Delphi, and endeavor, by higher pay, to rob us of our
foreign sailors, that would be alarming, if we were not a
match for them, by going on board ourselves and our
resident aliens; but now this is the case; and, what is
best of all, we have native steersmen, and crews at large,
more numerous and better than all the rest of Greece. And
with the danger before them, none of the foreigners would
consent to fly his country, and at the same time with less
hope of success to join them in the struggle, for the sake
of a few days' higher pay.

The circumstances of the Peloponnesians then seem, to me at
least, to be of such or nearly such a character; while ours
seem both to be free from the faults I have found in
theirs, and to have other great advantages in more than an
equal degree. Again, should they come by land against our
country, we will sail against theirs; and the loss will be
greater for even a part of the Peloponnese to be ravaged,
than for the whole of Attica. For they will not be able to
obtain any land in its stead without fighting for it; while
we have abundance, both in islands and on the mainland.
Moreover, consider it [in this point of view]: if we have
been islanders, who would have been more impregnable? And
we ought, as it is, with views as near as possible to those
of islanders, to give up all thought of our land and
houses, and keep watch over the sea and the city; and not,
though being enraged on their account, to come to an
engagement with the Peloponnesians, who are much more
numerous: (for if we defeat them, we shall have to fight
again with no fewer of them; and if we meet with a reverse,
our allies are lost also; for they will not remain quiet if
we are not able to lead our forces against them); and we
should make lamentation, not for the houses and land, but
for the lives [that are lost]; for it is not these things
that gain men, but men that gain these things. And if I
thought that I should persuade you, I would bid you go out
yourselves and ravage them, and show the Peloponnesians
that you will not submit to them for these things, at any
rate.

I have also many other grounds for hoping that we shall
conquer, if you will avoid gaining additional dominion at
the time of your being engaged in the war, and bringing on
yourselves dangers of your own choosing; for I am more
afraid of our own mistakes than of the enemy's plans. But
those points shall be explained in another speech at the
time of the events. At the present time let us send these
men away with this answer: that with regard to the
Megareans, we will also allow them to use our ports and
markets, if the Lacedaemonians also abstain from expelling
foreigners, whether ourselves or our allies (for it forbids
neither the one nor the other in the treaty): with regard
to the states, that we will leave them independent, if we
also hold them as independent when we made the treaty; and
when they, too, restore to the states a permission to be
independent suitably to the interests, not of the
Lacedaemonians themselves, but of the several states as
they wish: that we are willing to submit to judicial
decision, according to the treaty: and that we will not
commence hostilities, but will defend ourselves against
those who do. For this is both a right answer and a
becoming one for the state to give.

But you should know that go to war we must; and if we
accept it willingly rather than not, we shall find the
enemy less disposed to press us hard; and, moreover, that
it is from the greatest hazards that the greatest honours
also are gained, both by state and by individual. Our
fathers, at any rate, by withstanding the Medes--though
they did not begin with such resources [as we have], but
had even abandoned what they had and by counsel, more than
by fortune, and by daring, more than by strength, beat off
the barbarian, and advanced their resources to their
present height. And we must not fall short of them; but
must repel our enemies in every way, and endeavor to
bequeath our power to our posterity no less [than we
received it].

ANDOCIDES

Andocides, a Greek orator, diplomatist, and politician, was born at Athens about 467 B.C., and died about 391 B.C. His speeches disclose the possession of practical common sense rather than deep learning, he being one who gained his proficiency of speech by practice in the public assemblies, and not, as most of the orators of his time, in schools of rhetoric. Few authentic speeches of his are in existence, the one here given being his speech "On the Mysteries," which is considered his best. He delivered it in his own defense against the charge of having mutilated the busts of Hermes.

_Speech on the Mysteries._ The preparation and zeal of my
enemies, gentlemen, to do me harm in every way, justly or
unjustly, from the very time I arrived in this city, are by
no means unknown to you. It is therefore unnecessary for me
to speak at length on this matter. I shall make of you,
however, a request that is both just and easy for you to
grant as it is important for me to obtain. I ask you to
bear in mind that I have come here now, when there was no
necessity of my remaining in the city, and although I did
not offer bail, and was not committed to prison. I have
appeared before you simply because I have confidence in the
justice of my cause, and firmly believe that you will
decide fairly, and will rather justly acquit me in
accordance with your laws and your oaths, than suffer me to
be unjustly destroyed by my enemies.

It is only natural, gentlemen, that you should have the
same opinion of a man that he has of himself. If he is
unwilling to undergo trial and thus condemns himself, it is
only reasonable that you, too, should condemn him. But if,
confident in his innocence, he awaits your judgment, you
should be predisposed to acquit him. At least you ought not
to condemn him by a premature verdict of guilty.

My enemies are reported to have said that I would not dare
to undergo trial, but would seek safety in flight. "For
what object," they say, "can Andocides have in submitting
to trial when it is possible for him to leave the city and
have all the necessaries and convenience of life elsewhere?
In Cyprus, where he formerly lived, he has a large amount
of good land, bestowed on him as a gift. Can he, then, be
willing to put his life in jeopardy? For what purpose? Does
he not perceive the feeling of our city towards him?"

My feeling in this matter, gentlemen, is very different
from what my enemies suppose. Even though I do not, as
these men assert, share the good will of my countrymen, I
am unwilling to live elsewhere in affluence--an exile from
my native land. I should much prefer to be a citizen of
this commonwealth than of all others, however prosperous
they may now seem to be. It is with such a feeling of
patriotism that I entrust my life to your decision.

I ask you, then, gentlemen, to accord me in my defense a
preponderance of your good will, since you know that, even
if you grant both parties in the suit an impartial hearing,
I, the defendant, must necessarily be at a disadvantage.
For the prosecution, after long preparation, bring this
indictment against me without danger to themselves. But I
must make my defense in fear and trembling for my life, and
weighed down by the obloquy that has been heaped upon me.
It is, therefore, only reasonable that you should favor me
rather than the prosecution. There is a further
consideration to dispose you in my favor. Prosecutors have
frequently been found to bring charges so palpably false
that you could not but convict and punish them. Witnesses,
too, who have been instrumental in bringing about the
condemnation of innocent men, have been convicted only
after it was too late to save the guiltless victims of
their false testimony. Guided, then, and warned by the
experience of the past, you will not take for granted the
truth of what my accusers say. The magnitude of the charges
against me you can learn from the prosecution; but the
truth or falseness of that charge you cannot know until you
have heard my defense.

Now, how to begin my defense, gentlemen, perplexes me not a
little. I feel considerable doubt whether I ought first to
show you that the prosecution have brought the wrong form
of action against me; or that the decree of Isotimidas is
null and void; or that certain laws and oaths forbid this
action; or whether I ought to tell you all the facts from
beginning to end. But what most perplexes me is the fact
that you do not all perhaps regard as equally serious the
same points in the charge against me. Each one of you, I
suppose, has in mind some point about which he would like
to have me speak first. Since, however, it is impossible to
speak of all points at one and the same time, I shall set
before you all the facts in order from beginning to end,
omitting nothing. For if you get a right understanding of
the facts you will readily perceive how false a charge the
prosecution have brought against me.

I think, then, that you will feel disposed of your own
accord to pronounce a just sentence. And I am led to this
conclusion because I have observed that you always consider
it a matter of the greatest importance, both in private and
public affairs, to vote according to your oaths. It is this
very thing that holds the state together, much against the
will of those who would have it otherwise. Confiding, then,
in your sense of justice, I ask you to hear my defense with
good will, and not to act the part of adversaries in this
suit. Suspect not the truth of my statements, and ensnare
not my words. Hear me patiently to the end, and then
pronounce whatever judgment you deem best and most in
accordance with your oaths. . . .

Now with regard to the information laid on account of the
mutilation of the images, I will tell you everything from
the beginning. When, then, Teucrus came from Megara, having
obtained special permission, he gave what information he
had about the mysteries and images, and denounced eighteen
men. Of the men thus denounced, some fled, and others were
arrested and put to death on the strength of this
information. Those who fled have returned and are now here.
Many relatives of those who were put to death are likewise
present. I ask, then, any one of these, who will, to
interrupt me in the course of my argument and show, if he
can, that I was the cause of exile or death in a single
case.

After this had taken place, Pisander and Charicles, who
were members of the commission of inquiry, and had the
reputation at that time of being loyal to the people,
declared that what had been done was not the work of merely
a few men, but part of a conspiracy to overthrow the
commonwealth, and that they ought, therefore, to continue
the investigation.

The city was then in a sorry plight. When the herald made
proclamation for the Senate to enter the council chamber
and hauled down the signal, the trouble began. Then it was
that the conspirators fled from the market-place in fear of
arrest. Then, too, Diocleides, elated with hope over the
misfortunes of the city, brought an impeachment before the
Senate, declaring that he knew the men who had mutilated
the Hermae, and that they were thirty in number. He told
how he chanced to be an eye-witness of the affair. Now I
ask you, judges, to give your attention to this matter, and
recall whether I speak the truth, refreshing each other's
memories; for Diocleides spoke in your midst. To that fact
you yourselves can testify.

Diocleides, you will remember, said that he had a slave at
Laurium, and that he had occasion to go for a payment due
to him. "He rose early in the morning, mistaking the hour,
and started on his way. The moon was full. When he got near
the gateway of Dionysus, he saw several men going down from
the Odeum into the orchestra of the theater. Afraid of
them, he drew into the shade, and crouched down between the
pillar and the column with the bronze statue of the
general. He saw the men, about three hundred in number,
standing around in groups of fifteen and twenty. Most of
them he recognized in the light of the moon." Thus, in the
first place, judges, he assumed this story--a most
extraordinary one--in order, I fancy, that it might rest
with him to include in this list any Athenian he pleased,
or at pleasure to exempt him. After he had seen all this he
went, he said, to Laurium, where he learned on the
following day that the Hermae had been mutilated. He knew
at once that it was the work of the men he had seen in the
night. Returning to the city he learned that a commission
of inquiry had been appointed and that a reward of a
hundred minae had been offered for information. Seeing
Euphemus, the brother of Callias, the son of Telecles,
setting in his smithy, he brought him into the Hephaesteum
and told him how he had seen us on that night. Now, he
said, he did not desire to receive a reward from the city
rather than from us, if he could have us for friends.
Euphemus said that he did well to tell him, and asked him
to come to the house of Leogoras, that they might there
confer with Andocides and the other needful persons. He
came, he declared, on the following day, and knocked at the
door. He met my father going out, who said to him: "Are you
the visitor whom the company here expect? Well, you ought
not to reject such friends," and with these words he was
gone. In this way he sought to ruin my father, denouncing
him as a confederate. He then stated that we told him we
had decided to give him two talents instead of a hundred
minae, as offered by the state for information, and that we
pledged ourselves, in the event of our success, to make him
one of us. His reply, he said, was that he would think it
over. We then asked him, he maintained, to come to the
house of Callias, the son of Telecles, that he, too, might
be present. Thus he sought to ruin also my kinsman. He
came, he said, to the home of Callias, concluded an
agreement with us, and gave us pledges on the Acropolis,
but we failed to pay him, as agreed, the following month.
He came, therefore, he said, to give information about what
had been done. Such, judges, was his impeachment. . . .