Chapter XII: Part II: (§§ 179-343) (3)

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

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

[_Evidence is read._]

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

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

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

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

[_Philip's letters are read._]

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

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

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

[_The depositions are read._]

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

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

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

[_The deposition is read._]

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

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

{241} That step, if you are wise, he will prove to have taken to his own detriment; not only because it is an overwhelming proof of the nature of his conduct as ambassador, but also because of those expressions which he used in the course of the prosecution, and which are now at our disposal against himself. For the principles of justice, as defined by you when you were prosecuting Timarchus, must, I presume, be no less valid when used by others against yourself. {242} His words to the jury on that occasion were these. 'Demosthenes intends to defend Timarchus, and to denounce my acts as ambassador. And then, when he has led you off the point by his speech, he will brag of it, and go about saying, "Well? what do you think?[2] Why I led the jury right away from the point, and stole the case triumphantly out of their hands."' Then you at least must not act thus, but must make your defence with reference to the real points of your case, though, when you were prosecuting Timarchus on that occasion, you permitted yourself to make any charges and assertions that you 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 all
Doth die, for Rumour too a goddess is.[3]

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

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

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

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

{246} He attempts to insult others by labelling them hack-writers[n] and sophists. He shall himself be proved liable to these very imputations. The verses he quoted are derived from the _Phoenix_ of Euripides--a play which has never to this day been acted either by Theodorus or Aristodemus, the actors under whom Aeschines always played third-rate parts, though it was performed by Molon, and no doubt by other actors of former times. But the _Antigone_ of Sophocles has often been acted by Theodorus and often by Aristodemus; and in this play there are some admirable and instructive verses, which he must know quite well by heart, since he has often delivered them himself, but which he has omitted to quote. {247} For you know, I am sure, that in every tragedy it is, as it were, the special privilege of third-rate actors to play in the 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 mind
Of any man--for that, device is none,
Till he be proved in government and law,
And so revealed. For he who guides the State,
Yet cleaves not in his counsels to the best,
But from some fear in prison locks his tongue,
Is in mine eyes, as he hath ever been,
Vilest of men. And him, who sets his friend
Before his land, I count of no esteem.
For I--be it known to God's all-viewing eye--
Would ne'er keep silence, seeing the march of doom
Upon this city--doom in safety's stead,
Nor ever take to me as mine own friend
My country's foe.' For this I know, that she,
Our country, is the ship that bears us safe,
And safe aboard her, while she sails erect,
We make good friends.

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