{22} Now if any of you, men of Athens, seeing Philip's good fortune, thinks that this makes him a formidable enemy to fight against, he reasons like a sensible man: for fortune weighs heavily in the scale—nay, fortune is everything, in all human affairs. And yet, if I were given the choice, it is the fortune of Athens that I should choose, rather than that of Philip, provided that you yourselves are willing to act even to a small extent as you should act. For I see that there are far more abundant grounds for expecting the goodwill of Heaven on your side than on his. {23} But here, of course, we are sitting idle; and one who is a sluggard himself cannot require his friends to help him, much less the gods. It is not to be wondered at that Philip, who goes on campaigns and works hard himself, and is always at the scene of action, and lets no opportunity go, no season pass, should get the better of us who delay and pass resolutions and ask for news; nor do I wonder at it. It is the opposite that would have been wonderful—if we, who do nothing that those who are at war ought to do, were successful against one who leaves nothing undone. {24} But this I do wonder at, that you who once raised your hand against Sparta, in defence of the rights of the Hellenes—you, who with opportunities often open to you for grasping large advantages for yourselves, would not take them, but to secure for others their rights spent your own fortunes in war-contributions, and always bore the brunt of the dangers of the campaign—that you, I say, are now shrinking from marching, and hesitating to make any contribution to save your own possessions; and that, though you have often saved the rest of the Hellenes, now all together and now each in their turn, you are sitting idle, when you have lost what was your own. {25} I wonder at this; and I wonder also, men of Athens, that none of you is able to reckon up the time during which you have been fighting with Philip, and to consider what you have been doing while all this time has been going by. Surely you must know that it is while we have been delaying, hoping that some one else would act, accusing one another, bringing one another to trial, hoping anew—in fact, doing practically what we are doing now—that all the time has passed. {26} And have you now so little sense, men of Athens, as to hope that the very same policy, which has made the position of the city a bad one instead of a good, will actually make it a good one instead of a bad? Why, it is contrary both to reason and to nature to think so! It is always much easier to retain than to acquire. But now, owing to the war, none of our old possessions is left for us to retain; and so we must needs acquire. {27} This, therefore, is our own personal and immediate duty; and accordingly I say that you must contribute funds, you must go on service in person with a good will, you must accuse no one before you have become masters of the situation; and then you must honour those who deserve praise, and punish the guilty, with a judgement based upon the actual facts. You must get rid of all excuses and all deficiencies on your own part; you cannot examine mercilessly the actions of others, unless you yourselves have done all that your duty requires. {28} For why is it, do you think, men of Athens, that all the generals whom you dispatch avoid this war,[n] and discover private wars of their own—if a little of the truth must be told even about the generals? It is because in this war the prizes for which the war is waged are yours, and if they are captured, you will take them immediately for your own; but the dangers are the personal privilege of your commanders, and no pay is forthcoming: while in those wars the dangers are less, and the profits—Lampsacus, Sigeum, and the ships which they plunder—go to the commanders and their men. Each force therefore takes the road that leads to its own advantage. {29} For your part, when you turn your attention to the serious condition of your affairs, you first bring the commanders to trial; and then, when you have given them a hearing, and have been told of the difficulties which I have described, you acquit them. The result, therefore, is that while you are quarrelling with one another and broken into factions-one party persuaded of this, another of that—the public interest suffers. You used, men of Athens, to pay taxes by Boards:[n] to-day you conduct your politics by Boards. On either side there is an orator as leader, and a general under him; and for the Three Hundred, there are those who come to shout. The rest of you distribute yourselves between the two parties, some on either side. {30} This system you must give up: you must even now become your own masters; you must give to all alike their share in discussion, in speech and in action. If you assign to one body of men the function of issuing orders to you, like tyrants; to another, that of compulsory service as trierarchs or tax-payers or soldiers; and to another, only that of voting their condemnation, without taking any share in the labour, nothing that ought to be done will be done in time. For the injured section will always be in default, and you will only have the privilege of punishing them instead of the enemy. {31} To sum up, all must contribute, each according to his wealth, in a fair proportion: all must go on active service in turn, until you have all served: you must give a hearing to all who come forward, and choose the best course out of all that you hear—not the course proposed by this or that particular person. If you do this, you will not only commend the proposer of that course at the time, but you will commend yourselves hereafter, for the whole position of your affairs will be a better one.

THE THIRD OLYNTHIAC

{1} Very different reflections suggest themselves to my mind, I men of Athens, when I turn my eyes to our real situation, and when I think of the speeches that I hear. For I observe that the speeches are all concerned with the taking of vengeance upon Philip; whereas in reality matters have gone so far, that we have to take care that we are not ourselves the first to suffer: so that those who speak of vengeance are actually, as it seems to me, suggesting to you a false conception of the situation which you are discussing. {2} That there was a time when the city could both keep her own possessions in safety, and punish Philip, I am very well aware. For it was not long ago, but within my own lifetime, that both these things were so. But I am convinced that it is now quite enough for us as a first step to make sure of the preservation of our allies. If this is safely secured, we shall then be able to consider upon whom vengeance is to fall, and in what way. But until the first step is properly conceived, I consider it idle to say anything whatever about the last.

{3} If ever the most anxious deliberation was required, it is required in the present crisis; and my greatest difficulty is not to know what is the proper advice to give you in regard to the situation: I am at a loss rather to know, men of Athens, in what manner I should address you in giving it. For I am convinced by what I have heard with my own ears in this place that, for the most part, the objects of our policy have slipped from our grasp, not because we do not understand what our duty is, but because we will not do it; and I ask you to suffer me, if I speak without reserve, and to consider only whether I speak truly, and with this object in view—that the future may be better than the past. For you see that it is because certain speakers make your gratification the aim of their addresses, that things have gone on getting worse, till at last the extremity has been reached.

{4} I think it necessary, first, to remind you of a few of the events which have taken place. You remember, men of Athens, that two or three years ago[n] the news came that Philip was in Thrace, besieging Heraeon Teichos. That was in the month of November. Amidst all the discussion and commotion which took place in this Assembly, you passed a resolution that forty warships should be launched, that men under forty-five years of age should embark in person, and that we should pay a war-tax of 60 talents. {5} That year came to an end, and there followed July, August, September. In the latter month, after the Mysteries,[n] and with reluctance, you dispatched Charidemus[n] with ten ships, carrying no soldiers, and 5 talents of silver. For so soon as news had come that Philip was sick or dead—both reports were brought—you dismissed the armament, men of Athens, thinking that there was no longer any occasion for the expedition. But it was the very occasion; for had we then gone to the scene of action with the same enthusiasm which marked our resolution to do so, Philip would not have been preserved to trouble us to-day. {6} What was done then cannot be altered. But now a critical moment in another campaign has arrived; and it is in view of this, and to prevent you from falling into the same error, that I have recalled these facts. How then shall we use this opportunity, men of Athens? For unless you will go to the rescue 'with might and main to the utmost of your power',[n] mark how in every respect you will have served Philip's interest by your conduct of the war. {7} At the outset the Olynthians possessed considerable strength, and such was the position of affairs, that neither did Philip feel safe against them, nor they against Philip. We made peace with them, and they with us. It was as it were a stumbling-block in Philip's path, and an annoyance to him, that a great city which had made a compact with us should sit watching for any opportunity he might offer. We thought that we ought to excite them to war with him by every means; and now this much-talked-of event has come to pass—by what means, I need not relate. {8} What course then is open to us, men of Athens, but to go to their aid resolutely and eagerly? I can see none. Apart from the shame in which we should be involved, if we let anything be lost through our negligence, I can see, men of Athens, that the subsequent prospect would be alarming in no small degree, when the attitude of the Thebans towards us is what it is, when the funds of the Phocians are exhausted,[n] and when there is no one to prevent Philip, so soon as he has made himself master of all that at present occupies him, from bringing his energies to bear upon the situation further south. {9} But if any of you is putting off until then his determination to do his duty, he must be desirous of seeing the terrors of war close at hand, when he need only hear of them at a distance, and of seeking helpers for himself, when now he can give help to others. For that this is what it must come to, if we sacrifice the present opportunity, we must all, I think, be fairly well aware.

{10} 'But,' some one may say, 'we have all made up our minds that we must go to their aid, and we will go. Only tell us how we are to do it.' Now do not be surprised, men of Athens, if I give an answer which will be astonishing to most of you. You must appoint a Legislative Commission.[n] But when the commissioners meet, you must not enact a single law—you have laws enough—you must cancel the laws which, in view of present circumstances, are injurious to you. {11} I mean the laws which deal with the Festival Fund—to put it quite plainly—and some of those which deal with military service: for the former distribute your funds as festival-money to those who remain at home; while the latter give immunity to malingerers,[n] and thereby also take the heart out of those who want to do their duty. When you have cancelled these laws, and made the path safe for one who would give the best advice, then you can look for some one to propose what you all know to be expedient. {12} But until you have done this, you must not expect to find a man who will be glad to advise you for the best, and be ruined by you for his pains; for you will find no one, particularly when the only result will be that some unjust punishment will be inflicted on the proposer or mover of such measures, and that instead of helping matters at all, he will only have made it even more dangerous in future than it is at present to give you the best advice. Aye, and you should require the repeal of these laws, men of Athens, from the very persons who proposed them.[n] {13} It is not fair that those who originally proposed them should enjoy the popularity which was fraught with such mischief to the whole State, and that the unpopularity, which would lead to an improvement in the condition of us all, should be visited to his cost upon one who now advises you for the best. Until you have thus prepared the way, men of Athens, you must entertain no expectation whatever that any one will be influential enough here to transgress these laws with impunity, or senseless enough to fling himself to certain ruin.

{14} At the same time, men of Athens, you must not fail to realize this further point. No resolution is worth anything, without the willingness to perform at least what you have resolved, and that heartily. For if decrees by themselves could either compel you to do what you ought, or could realize their several objects unaided, you would not be decreeing many things and performing few—nay, none—of the things that you decree, nor would Philip have insulted you so long. {15} If decrees could have done it, he would have paid the penalty long ago. But it is not so. Actions come later than speeches and voting in order of procedure, but in effectiveness they are before either and stronger than either. It is action that is still needed; all else you already have. For you have those among you, men of Athens, who can tell you what your duty is; and no one is quicker than you are to understand the speaker's bidding. Aye, and you will be able to carry it out even now, if you act aright. {16} What time, what opportunity, do you look for, better than the present? When, if not now, will you do your duty? Has not the man seized every position from us already? If he becomes master of this country too, will not our fate be the most shameful in the world? And the men whom we promised to be ready to save, if they went to war—are they not now at war? {17} Is he not our enemy? Are not our possessions in his hands? Is he not a barbarian? Is he not anything that you choose to call him? In God's name, when we have let everything go, when we have all but put everything into his hands, shall we then inquire at large who is responsible for it all? That we shall never admit our own responsibility, I am perfectly sure. Just so amid the perils of war, none of those who have run away accuses himself; he accuses his general, his neighbour—any one but himself; and yet, I suppose, all who have run away have helped to cause the defeat. He who now blames the rest might have stood fast; and if every one had done so, the victory would have been theirs. {18} And so now, if a particular speaker's advice is not the best, let another rise and make a proposal, instead of blaming him; and if some other has better advice to give, carry it out, and good fortune be with you. What? Is the advice disagreeable? That is no longer the speaker's fault—unless, of course, he leaves out the prayer that you expect of him. There is no difficulty in the prayer, men of Athens; a man need only compress all his desires into a short sentence. But to make his choice, when the question for discussion is one of practical policy, is by no means equally easy. Then a man is bound to choose what is best, instead of what is pleasant, if both are not possible at once. {19} But suppose that some one is able, without touching the Festival Fund, to suggest other sources of supply for military purposes—is not he the better adviser? Certainly, men of Athens—if such a thing is possible. But I should be surprised if it ever has happened or ever should happen to any one to find, after spending what he has upon wrong objects, that what he has not is wealth enough to enable him to effect right ones. Such arguments as these find, I think, their great support in each man's personal desire, and, for that reason, nothing is easier than to deceive oneself; what a man desires, he actually fancies to be true. {20} But the reality often follows no such principle. Consider the matter, therefore, men of Athens, after this fashion; consider in what way our objects can be realized under the circumstances, and in what way you will be able to make the expedition and to receive your pay. Surely it is not like sober or high-minded men to submit light-heartedly to the reproach which must follow upon any shortcomings in the operations of the war through want of funds—to seize your weapons and march against Corinthians and Megareans,[n] and then to allow Philip to enslave Hellenic cities, because you cannot find rations for your troops.

{21} These words do not spring from a wanton determination to court the ill-will of any party among you. I am neither so foolish nor so unfortunate as to desire unpopularity when I do not believe that I am doing any good. But a loyal citizen ought, in my judgement, to care more for the safety of his country's fortunes than for the popularity of his utterances. Such, I have heard, and perhaps you have heard it also, was the principle which the orators of our forefather's time habitually followed in public life—those orators who are praised by all who rise to address you, though they are far from imitating them—the great Aristides, and Nicias, and my own namesake, and Pericles. {22} But ever since these speakers have appeared who are always asking you, 'what would you like?' 'what may I propose for you?' 'what can I do to please you?' the interests of the city have been wantonly given away for the sake of the pleasure and gratification of the moment; and we see the consequences—the fortunes of the speakers prosper, while your own are in a shameful plight. {23} And yet consider, men of Athens, the main characteristics of the achievements of your forefathers' time, and those of your own. The description will be brief and familiar to you; for you need not have recourse to the history of others, when your own will furnish examples, by following which you may achieve prosperity. {24} Our forefathers, who were not courted and caressed by their politicians as you are by these persons to-day, were leaders of the Hellenes, with their goodwill, for forty-five years;[n] they brought up into the Acropolis more than 10,000 talents; the king[n] who then ruled Macedonia obeyed them as a foreigner ought to obey a Hellenic people; serving in person, they set up many glorious trophies for victories by land and sea; and alone of all mankind they left behind them, as the crown of their exploits, a fame that is beyond the reach of envy. {25} Such was the part they played in the Hellenic world: and now contemplate the manner of men they were in the city, both in public and in private life. As public men, they gave us buildings and objects of such beauty and grandeur, in the temples which they built and the offerings which they dedicated in them, that no room has been left for any of those that come after to surpass them: while in private life they were so modest, {26} so intensely loyal to the spirit of the constitution, that if any one actually knows what the house of Aristides, or Miltiades, or any other of the glorious men of that day, is like, he can see that it is no more imposing than those of their neighbours. For it was not to win a fortune that they undertook affairs of State; but each thought it his duty to add to the common weal. And thus, acting in a spirit of good faith towards the Hellenes, of piety towards the gods, and of equality towards one another, they naturally attained great prosperity. {27} Such was the national life of those times, when those whom I have mentioned were the foremost men in the State. How do matters stand to-day, thanks to these worthy persons? Is there any likeness, any resemblance, to old times? Thanks to them (and though I might say much, I pass over all but this), when we had the field, as you see, completely open to us—when the Spartans had been ruined,[n] and the Thebans had their hands full,[n] and no other power could seriously dispute the supremacy with us on the field of battle—when we could have retained our own possessions in safety, and have stood as umpires of the rights of others—we have been deprived of our own territory; {28} we have spent more than 1,500 talents to no good purpose; the allies whom we had gained in the war,[n] these persons have lost in time of peace; and we have trained Philip to be the powerful enemy to us that he is. Let any one rise and tell me how Philip has grown so strong, if we ourselves are not the source of his strength. {29} 'But, my good Sir,' you say, 'if we are badly off in these respects, we are at any rate better off at home.' And where is the proof of this? Is it in the whitewashing of the battlements, the mending of the roads, the fountains, and all such trumperies? Look then at the men whose policy gives you these things. Some of them who were poor have become rich; others, who were unknown to fame, have risen to honour; some of them have provided themselves with private houses more imposing than our public buildings; and the lower the fortunes of the city have fallen, the higher theirs have risen.

{30} What is the cause of all these things? Why is it that all was well then, and all is amiss to-day? It is because then the people itself dared to act and to serve in the army; and so the people was master of its politicians; all patronage was in its own hands; any separate individual was content to receive from the people his share of honour or office or other emolument. The reverse is now the case. {31} All patronage is in the hands of the politicians, while you, the people, emasculated, stripped of money and allies, have been reduced to the position of servile supernumeraries, content if they give you distributions of festival-money, or organize a procession at the Boedromia;[n] and to crown all this bravery, you are expected also to thank them for giving you what is your own. They pen you up closely in the city; they entice you to these delights; they tame you till you come to their hand. {32} But a high and generous spirit can never, I believe, be acquired by men whose actions are mean and poor; for such as a man's practice is, such must his spirit be. And in all solemnity I should not be surprised if I suffered greater harm at your hands for telling you the things that I have told you, than the men who have brought them to pass. Even freedom of speech is not possible on all subjects in this place, and I wonder that it has been granted me to-day.

{33} If, even now, you will rid yourselves of these habits, if you will resolve to join the forces and to act worthily of yourselves, converting the superfluities which you enjoy at home into resources to secure our advantage abroad, then it may be, men of Athens, it may be, that you will gain some great and final good, and will be rid of these your perquisites, which are like the diet that a physician gives a sick man—diet which neither puts strength into him nor lets him die. For these sums which you now share among yourselves are neither large enough to give you any adequate assistance, nor small enough to let you renounce them and go about your business; but these it is that[2] increase the indolence of every individual among you. {34} 'Is it, then, paid service that you suggest?'[n] some one will ask. I do, men of Athens; and a system for immediate enforcement which will embrace all alike; so that each, while receiving his share of the public funds may supply whatever service the State requires of him.[3] If we can remain at peace, then he will do better to stay at home, free from the necessity of doing anything discreditable through poverty. But if a situation like the present occurs, then supported by these same sums, he will serve loyally in person, in defence of his country. If a man is outside the military age, then let him take, in his place among the rest, that which he now receives irregularly and without doing any service, and let him act as an overseer and manager of business that must be done. {35} In short, without adding or subtracting anything,[n] beyond a small sum, and only removing the want of system, my plan reduces the State to order, making your receipt of payment, your service in the army or the courts, and your performance of any duty which the age of each of you allows, and the occasion requires, all part of one and the same system. But it has been no part of my proposal that we should assign the due of those who act to those who do nothing; that we should be idle ourselves and enjoy our leisure helplessly, listening to tales of victories won by somebody's mercenaries;[n] for this is what happens now. {36} Not that I blame one who is doing some part of your duty for you; but I require you to do for yourselves the things for which you honour others, and not to abandon the position which your fathers won through many a glorious peril, and bequeathed to you.

I think I have told you all that, in my belief, your interest demands. May you choose the course which will be for the good of the city and of you all!

FOOTNOTES

[1] See notes to Speech on the Peace, Sec. 5. Some date the Euboean expedition and the sending of the cavalry one or two years earlier, and the whole chronology is much disputed; but there are strong arguments for the date (348) given in the text.

[2] [Greek: esti tauta ta].

[3] [Greek: touto parechae].



ON THE PEACE (OR. V)

[Introduction. After the fall of Olynthus in 348, the Athenians, on the proposal of Eubulus, sent embassies to the Greek States in the Peloponnese and elsewhere, to invite them to join in a coalition against Philip. Aeschines went for this purpose to Megalopolis, and did his best to counteract Philip's influence in Arcadia. When the embassies proved unsuccessful, it became clear that peace must be made on such terms as were possible. Philip himself was anxious for peace, since he wished to cross the Pass of Thermopylae without such opposition from Athens as he had encountered in 352, and to be free from the attacks of hostile ships upon his ports. Even before the fall of Olynthus, informal communications passed between himself and Athens (see Speech on Embassy, Sec.Sec. 12, 94, 315); and in consequence of these, Philocrates proposed and the Assembly passed a decree, under which ten ambassadors were appointed to go to Philip and invite him to send plenipotentiaries to Athens to conclude a peace. Demosthenes (who had strongly supported Philocrates) was among the ten, as well as Aeschines and Philocrates himself. Delighted with Philip's reception of them, and greatly attracted by his personality, the ambassadors returned with a letter from him, promising in general terms to confer great benefits upon Athens, if he were granted alliance as well as peace: in the meantime he undertook not to interfere with the towns allied to Athens in the Chersonese. Demosthenes proposed (in the Council, of which he was a member in the year 347- 346) the usual complimentary resolution in honour of the ambassadors, and on his motion it was resolved to hold two meetings of the Assembly, on the 18th and 19th of the month Elaphebolion (i.e. probably just after the middle of April 346), when Philip's envoys would have arrived, to discuss the terms of peace. The envoys—Antipater, Parmenio, and Eurylochus—reached Athens shortly after this; and before the first of the two meetings was held, the Synod of the allies of Athens, now assembled in the city, agreed to peace on such terms as the Athenian people should decide, but added a proposal that it should be permitted to any Greek State to become a party to the Peace within three months. They said nothing of alliance. Of the two meetings of the Assembly, in view of the conflicting statements of Demosthenes and Aeschines, only a probable account can be given. At the first, Philocrates proposed that alliance as well as peace should be made by Athens and her allies with Philip and his allies, on the understanding that both parties should keep what they de facto possessed—a provision entailing the renunciation by Athens of Amphipolis and Poteidaea; but that the Phocians and the people of Halus should be excluded. Aeschines opposed this strongly; and both he and Demosthenes claim to have supported the resolution of the allies, which would have given the excluded peoples a chance of sharing the advantage of the Peace. The feeling of the Assembly was with them, although the Phocians had recently insulted the Athenians by declining to give up to Proxenus (the Athenian admiral) the towns guarding the approaches to Thermopylae, which they had themselves offered to place in the hands of Athens. But Philocrates obtained the postponement of the decision till the next day. On the next day, if not before, it became plain that Philip's envoys would not consent to forgo the exclusion of the Phocians and Halus; but in order that the Assembly might be induced to pass the resolution, the clause expressly excluding them was dropped, and peace and alliance were made between Athens and Philip, each with their allies.[n] Even this was not secured before Aeschines and his friends had deprecated rash attempts to imitate the exploits of antiquity by continuing the war, and had explained that Philip could not openly accept the Phocians as allies, but that when the Peace was concluded, he would satisfy all the wishes of the Athenians in every way; while Eubulus threatened the people with immediate war, involving personal service and heavy taxation, unless they accepted Philocrates' decree. A few days afterwards the Athenians and the representatives of the allies took the oath to observe the Peace: nothing was said about the Phocians and Halus: Cersobleptes' representative was probably not permitted to swear with the rest. The same ten ambassadors as before were instructed to receive Philip's oath, and the oaths of his allies, to arrange for the ransom of prisoners, and generally to treat with Philip in the interests of Athens. Demosthenes urged his colleagues (and obtained an instruction from the Council to this effect) to sail at once, in order that Philip, who was now in Thrace, might not make conquests at the expense of Athens before ratifying the Peace; but they delayed at Oreus, went by land, instead of under the escort of Proxenus by sea, and only reached Pella (the Macedonian capital) twenty-three days after leaving Athens. Philip did not arrive for twenty-seven days more. By this time he had taken Cersobleptes prisoner, and captured Serrhium, Doriscus, and other Thracian towns, which were held by Athenian troops sent to assist Cersobleptes. Demosthenes was now openly at variance with his colleagues. He had no doubt realized the necessity of peace, but probably regarded the exclusion of the Phocians as unwarrantable, and thought that the policy of his colleagues must end in Philip's conquest of all Greece. At Pella he occupied himself in negotiations for the ransom of prisoners. After taking the oath, Philip kept the ambassadors with him until he had made all preparations for his march southward, and during this time he played with them and with the envoys from the other Greek States who were present at the same time. His intention of marching to Thermopylae was clear; but he seems to have led all alike to suppose that he would fulfil their particular wishes when he had crossed the Pass. The ambassadors accompanied him to Pherae, where the oath was taken by the representatives of Philip's allies; the Phocians, Halus, and Cersobleptes were excluded from the Peace. (Halus was taken by Philip's army shortly afterwards.) The ambassadors of Athens then returned homewards, bearing a letter from Philip, but did not arrive at Athens before Philip had reached Thermopylae. On their return Demosthenes denounced them before the Council, which refused them the customary compliments, and (on Demosthenes' motion) determined to propose to the people that Proxenus with his squadron should be ordered to go to the aid of the Phocians and to prevent Philip from crossing the Pass. When the Assembly met on the 16th of Scirophorion (shortly before the middle of July), Aeschines rose first, and announced in glowing terms the intention of Philip to turn round upon Thebes and to re-establish Thespiae and Plataeae; and hinted at the restoration to Athens of Euboea and Oropus. Then Philip's letter was read, containing no promises, but excusing the delay of the ambassadors as due to his own request. The Assembly was elated at the promises announced by Aeschines; Demosthenes' attempt to contradict the announcement failed; and on Philocrates' motion, it was resolved to extend the Peace and alliance with Philip to posterity, and to declare that if the Phocians refused to surrender the Temple of Delphi to the Amphictyons, Athens would take steps against those responsible for the refusal. Demosthenes refused to serve on the Embassy appointed to convey this resolution to Philip: Aeschines was appointed, but was too ill to start. The ambassadors set out, but within a few days returned with the news that the Phocian army had surrendered to Philip (its leader, Phalaecus, and his troops being allowed to depart to the Peloponnese). The surrender had perhaps been accelerated by the news of the Athenian resolution. The Assembly, in alarm lest Philip should march southwards, now resolved to take measures of precaution and defence, and to send the same ambassadors to Philip, to do what they could. They went, Aeschines among them, and arrived in the midst of the festivities with which Philip was celebrating the success of his plans. The invitation which Philip sent to Athens—to send a force to join his own, and to assist in settling the affairs of Phocis—was (on Demosthenes' advice) declined by the Assembly; and soon afterwards another letter from Philip expressed surprise at the unfriendly attitude taken up by the Athenians towards him. Philip next summoned the Amphictyonic Council (the legitimate guardians of the Delphian Temple, on whose behalf the Thebans and Thessalians, aided by Philip, were now at war with the Phocians): and the Council, in the absence of many of its members, resolved to transfer the votes of the Phocians in the Council-meeting to Philip, to break up the Phocian towns into villages, disarming their inhabitants and taking away their horses, to require them to repay the stolen treasure to the temple by instalments, and to pronounce a curse upon those actually guilty of sacrilege, which would render them liable to arrest anywhere. The destructive part of the sentence was rigorously executed by the Thebans. In order to punish the former supporters of the Phocians, the right to precedence in consulting the oracle was transferred from Athens to Philip, by order of the Council, and the Spartans were excluded from the temple: Orchomenus and Coroneia were destroyed and their inhabitants enslaved; and Thebes became absolute mistress of all Boeotia. The Pythian games (at Delphi) in September 346 were celebrated under Philip's presidency; but both Sparta and Athens refused to send the customary deputation to them, and Philip accordingly sent envoys to Athens, along with representatives of the Amphictyons, to demand recognition for himself as an Amphictyonic power. Aeschines supported the demand, his argument being apparently to the effect that Philip had been forced to act as he had done by the Thebans and Thessalians; but the Assembly was very angry at the results (as they seemed to be) of Aeschines' diplomacy and the calamities of the Phocians; and it was only when Demosthenes, in the Speech on the Peace, advised compliance, that they were persuaded to give way. To have refused would have brought the united forces of the Amphictyonic States against Athens: and these she could not have resisted. It was therefore prudent to keep the Peace, though Demosthenes evidently regarded it only as an armistice.]

{1} I see, men of Athens, that our present situation is one of great perplexity and confusion, for not only have many of our interests been sacrificed, so that it is of no use to make eloquent speeches about them; but even as regards what still remains to us, there is no general agreement in any single point as to what is expedient: some hold one view, and some another. {2} Perplexing, moreover, and difficult as deliberation naturally is, men of Athens, you have made it far more difficult. For while all the rest of mankind are in the habit of resorting to deliberation before the event, you do not do so until afterwards: and consequently, during the whole time that falls within my memory, however high a reputation for eloquence one who upbraids you for all your errors may enjoy, the desired results and the objects of your deliberation pass out of your grasp. {3} And yet I believe—and it is because I have convinced myself of this that I have risen—that if you resolve to abandon all clamour and contention, as becomes men who are deliberating on behalf of their country upon so great an issue, I shall be able to describe and recommend measures to you, by which the situation may be improved, and what we have sacrificed, recovered.

{4} Now although I know perfectly well, men of Athens, that to speak to you about one's own earlier speeches, and about oneself, is a practice which is always extremely repaying, I feel the vulgarity and offensiveness of it so strongly, that I shrink from it even when I see that it is necessary. I think, however, that you will form a better judgement on the subject on which I am about to speak, if I remind you of some few of the things which I have said on certain previous occasions. {5} In the first place, men of Athens, when at the time of the disturbances in Euboea[n] you were being urged to assist Plutarchus, and to undertake an inglorious and costly campaign, I came forward first and unsupported to oppose this action, and was almost torn in pieces by those who for the sake of their own petty profits had induced you to commit many grave errors: and when only a short time had elapsed, along with the shame which you incurred and the treatment which you received—treatment such as no people in the world ever before experienced at the hands of those whom they went to assist—there came the recognition by all of you of the baseness of those who had urged you to this course, and of the excellence of my own advice. {6} Again, men of Athens, I observed that Neoptolemus[n] the actor, who was allowed freedom of movement everywhere on the ground of his profession, and was doing the city the greatest mischief, was managing and directing your communications with Philip in Philip's own interest: and I came forward and informed you; and that, not to gratify any private dislike or desire to misrepresent him, as subsequent events have made plain. {7} And in this case I shall not, as before, throw the blame on any speakers or defenders of Neoptolemus—indeed, he had no defenders; it is yourselves that I blame. For had you been watching rival tragedies in the theatre, instead of discussing the vital interests of a whole State, you could not have listened with more partiality towards him, or more prejudice against me. {8} And yet, I believe, you have all now realized that though, according to his own assertion, this visit to the enemy's country was paid in order that he might get in the debts owing to him there, and return with funds to perform his public service[n] here; though he was always repeating the statement that it was monstrous to accuse those who were transferring their means from Macedonia to Athens; yet, when the Peace had removed all danger, he converted his real estate here into money, and took himself off with it to Philip. {9} These then are two events which I have foretold—events which, because their real character was exactly and faithfully disclosed by me, are a testimony to the speeches which I have delivered. A third, men of Athens, was the following; and when I have given you this one instance, I will immediately proceed to the subject on which I have come forward to speak. When we returned from the Embassy, after receiving from Philip his oath to maintain the Peace, {10} there were some[n] who promised that Thespiae and Plataeae[n] would be repeopled, and said that if Philip became master of the situation, he would save the Phocians, and would break up the city of Thebes into villages; that Oropus would be yours, and that Euboea would be restored to you in place of Amphipolis—with other hopes and deceptions of the same kind, by which you were seduced into sacrificing the Phocians in a manner that was contrary to your interest and perhaps to your honour also. But as for me, you will find that neither had I any share in this deception, nor yet did I hold my peace. On the contrary, I warned you plainly, as, I know you remember, that I had no knowledge and no expectations of this kind, and that I regarded such statements as nonsense.

{11} All these plain instances of superior foresight on my part, men of Athens, I shall not ascribe to any cleverness, any boasted merits, of my own. I will not pretend that my foreknowledge and discernment are due to any causes but such as I will name; and they are two. The first, men of Athens, is that good fortune, which, I observe, is more powerful than all the cleverness and wisdom on earth. {12} The second is the fact that my judgement and reasoning are disinterested. No one can point to any personal gain in connexion with my public acts and words: and therefore I see what is to our interest undistorted, in the light in which the actual facts reveal it. But when you throw money into one scale of the balance, its weight carries everything with it; your judgement is instantly dragged down with it, and one who has acted so can no longer think soundly or healthily about anything.

{13} Now there is one primary condition which must be observed by any one who would furnish the city with allies or contributions or anything else—he must do it without breaking the existing Peace: not because the Peace is at all admirable or creditable to you, but because, whatever its character, it would have been better, in the actual circumstances, that it should never have been made, than that having been made, it should now be broken through our action. For we have sacrificed many advantages which we possessed when we made it, and which would have rendered the war safer and easier for us then than it is now. {14} The second condition, men of Athens, is that we shall not draw on these self-styled Amphictyons,[n] who are now assembled, until they have an irresistible or a plausible reason for making a united war against us. My own belief is that if war broke out again between ourselves and Philip about Amphipolis or any such claim of our own, in which the Thessalians and Argives and Thebans had no interest, none of these peoples would go to war against us, least of all—{15} and let no one raise a clamour before he hears what I have to say—least of all the Thebans; not because they are in any pleasant mood towards us; not because they would not be glad to gratify Philip; but because they know perfectly well, however stupid one may think them,[n] that if war springs up between themselves and you, they will get all the hardships of war for their share, while another will sit by, waiting to secure all the advantages; and they are not likely to sacrifice themselves for such a prospect, unless the origin and the cause of the war are such as concern all alike. {16} Nor again should we, in my opinion, suffer at all, if we went to war with Thebes on account of Oropus[n] or any other purely Athenian interest. For I believe that while those who would assist ourselves or the Thebans would give their aid if their ally's own country were invaded, they would not join either in an offensive campaign. For this is the manner of alliances—such, at least, as are worth considering; and the relationship is naturally of this kind. {17} The goodwill of each ally— whether it be towards ourselves or towards the Thebans—does not imply the same interest in our conquest of others as in our existence. Our continued existence they would all desire for their own sakes; but none of them would wish that through conquest either of us should become their own masters. What is it then that I regard with apprehension? What is it that we must guard against? I fear lest a common pretext should be supplied for the coming war, a common charge against us, which will appeal to all alike. {18} For if the Argives[n] and Messenians and Megalopolitans, and some of the other Peloponnesians who are in sympathy with them, adopt a hostile attitude towards us owing to our negotiations for peace with Sparta, and the belief that to some extent we are giving our approval to the policy which the Spartans have pursued: if the Thebans already (as we are told) detest us, and are sure to become even more hostile, because we are harbouring those whom they have exiled,[n] and losing no opportunity of displaying our ill-will towards them; {19} and the Thessalians, because we are offering a refuge to the Phocian fugitives;[n] and Philip, because we are preventing his admission to Amphictyonic rank; my fear is that, when each power has thus its separate reasons for resentment, they may unite in the war against us, with the decrees of the Amphictyons for their pretext: and so each may be drawn on farther than their several interests would carry them, just as they were in dealing with the Phocians. {20} For you doubtless realize that it was not through any unity in their respective ambitions, that the Thebans and Philip and the Thessalians all acted together just now. The Thebans, for instance, could not prevent Philip from marching through and occupying the passes, nor even from stepping in at the last moment to reap the credit of all that they themselves had toiled for.[n] {21} For, as it is, though the Thebans have gained something so far as the recovery of their territory is concerned, their honour and reputation have suffered shamefully, since it now appears as though they would have gained nothing, unless Philip had crossed the Pass. This was not what they intended. They only submitted to all this in their anxiety to obtain Orchomenus and Coroneia, and their inability to do so otherwise. {22} And as to Philip, some persons,[n] as you know, are bold enough to say that it was not from any wish to do so that he handed over Orchomenus and Coroneia to Thebes, but from compulsion; and although I must part company with them there, I am sure that at least he did not want to do this more than he desired to occupy the passes, and to get the credit of appearing to have determined the issue of the war, and to manage the Pythian games by his own authority. These, I am sure, were the objects which he coveted most greedily. {23} The Thessalians, again, did not desire to see either the Thebans or Philip growing powerful; for in any such contingency they thought that they themselves were menaced. But they did desire to secure two privileges—admission to the Amphictyonic meeting, and the recovery of rights at Delphi;[n] and in their eagerness for these privileges, they joined Philip in the actions in question. Thus you will find that each was led on, for the sake of private ends, to take action which they in no way desired to take. But this is the very thing against which we have now to be on our guard.

{24} 'Are we then, for fear of this, to submit to Philip? and do you require this of us?' you ask me. Far from it. Our action must be such as will be in no way unworthy of us, and at the same time will not lead to war, but will prove to all our good sense and the justice of our position: and, in answer to those who are bold enough to think that we should refuse to submit to anything whatever,[n] [2] and who cannot foresee the war that must follow, I wish to urge this consideration. We are allowing the Thebans to hold Oropus; and if any one asked us to state the reason honestly, we should say that it was to avoid war. {25} Again, we have just ceded Amphipolis to Philip by the Treaty of Peace;[n] we permit the Cardians[n] to occupy a position apart from the other colonists in the Chersonese; we allow the Prince of Caria[n] to seize the islands of Chios, Cos, and Rhodes, and the Byzantines to drive our vessels to shore[n]—obviously because we believe that the tranquillity afforded by peace brings more blessings than any collision or contention over these grievances would bring: so that it would be a foolish and an utterly perverse policy, when we have behaved in this manner towards each of our adversaries individually, where our own most essential interests were concerned, to go now to war with all of them together, on account of this shadow at Delphi.[n]

FOOTNOTES

[1] The term 'the allies of Athens' was ambiguous. It might be taken (as it was taken by Philip and his envoys) to include only the remaining members of the League (see p. 9), who were represented by the Synod then sitting, and whose policy Athens could control. But it was evidently possible to put a wider interpretation upon it, as the Assembly probably did and as Demosthenes often does (e.g. Speech on Embassy, Sec. 278), and to understand it as including the Phocians and others (such as Cersobleptes) with whom Athens had a treaty of alliance. Much of the trouble which followed arose out of this ambiguity.

[2] [Greek: oud hotioun].



THE SECOND PHILIPPIC (OR. VI)

[Introduction. After settling affairs at Delphi in 346, Philip returned to Macedonia. During a considerable part of 345 and in the early months of 344 he was occupied with campaigns against the Illyrians, Dardani, and Triballi. But in the summer (probably) of 344 he resumed his activities in Greece, garrisoning Pherae and other towns of Thessaly with Macedonians, appropriating the revenues derived from the Thessalian ports, and establishing oligarchical governments throughout the country. At the same time negotiations were going on between himself and Athens with regard to the Thracian strongholds which he had captured in 346. He refused to give these up, though he offered to cut a canal across the Chersonese, for the protection of the Athenian allies there from the attacks of the Thracians. He also sent money and mercenaries to help the Messenians and Argives, who, like the Megalopolitans, were anxious to secure their independence of Sparta. Athens, which was on friendly terms with Sparta, sent envoys to the Peloponnesian states to counteract Philip's influence, and of these Demosthenes was one. In return, Argos and Messene complained to Athens of her interference with their attempt to secure freedom, and Philip sent envoys to deprecate the charges made against him by the Athenian ambassadors in the Peloponnese. He pointed out that he had not broken any promises made to Athens at the time of the Peace, for he had made none. (In fact, if Demosthenes' account is correct, he had confined himself to vague expressions of goodwill; the promises had been made by Aeschines.) The Second Philippic, spoken late in 344, proposes a reply to Philip, the text of which has unfortunately not come down to us. The Peloponnesian envoys appear also to have been in Athens at the time; and Philip's supporters had put forward various explanations of his conduct at the time when the Peace was made. To these also Demosthenes replies.]

{1} In all our discussions, men of Athens, with regard to the acts of violence by which Philip contravenes the terms of the Peace, I observe that, although the speeches on our side are always manifestly just and sympathetic,[n] and although those who denounce Philip are always regarded as saying what ought to be said, yet practically nothing is done which ought to be done, or which would make it worth while to listen to such speeches. {2} On the contrary, the condition of public affairs as a whole has already been brought to a point at which, the more and the more evidently a speaker can convict Philip both of transgressing the Peace which he made with you and of plotting against all the Hellenes, the harder it is for him to advise you how you should act. {3} The responsibility for this rests with us all, men of Athens. It is by deeds and actions, not by words, that a policy of encroachment must be arrested: and yet, in the first place, we who rise to address you will not face the duty of proposing or advising such action, for fear of unpopularity with you, though we dilate upon the character of Philip's acts, upon their atrocity, and so forth; and, in the second place, you who sit and listen, better qualified though you doubtless are than Philip for using the language of justice and appreciating it at the mouths of others, are nevertheless absolutely inert, when it is a question of preventing him from executing the designs in which he is now engaged. {4} It follows as the inevitable and perhaps reasonable consequence, that you are each more successful in that to which your time and your interest is given—he in actions, yourselves in words. Now if it is still enough for you, that your words are more just than his, your course is easy, and no labour is involved in it. {5} But if we are to inquire how the evil of the present situation is to be corrected; if its advance is not still to continue, unperceived, until we are confronted by a power so great that we cannot even raise a hand in our own defence; then we must alter our method of deliberation, and all of us who speak, and all of you who listen, must resolve to prefer the counsels which are best, and which can save us, to those which are most easy and most attractive.

{6} I am amazed, men of Athens, in the first place, that any one who sees the present greatness of Philip and the wide mastery which he has gained, can be free from alarm, or can imagine that this involves no peril to Athens, or that it is not against you that all his preparations are being made. And I would beg you, one and all, to listen while I put before you in a few words the reasoning by which I have come to entertain the opposite expectation, and the grounds upon which I regard Philip as an enemy; that so, if my own foresight appears to you the truer, you may believe me; but if that of the persons who have no fears and have placed their trust in him, you may give your adhesion to them. {7} Here then, men of Athens, is my argument. Of what, in the first place, did Philip become master, when the Peace was concluded? Of Thermopylae, and of the situation in Phocis. Next, what use did he make of his power? He deliberately chose to act in the interests of Thebes, not in those of Athens. And why? He scrutinized every consideration in the light of his own ambition and of his desire for universal conquest: he took no thought for peace, or tranquillity, or justice; {8} and he saw quite correctly that our state and our national character being what they are, there was no attraction that he could offer, nothing that he could do, which would induce you to sacrifice any of the other Hellenes to him for your own advantage. He saw that you would take account of what was right; that you would shrink from the infamy attaching to such a policy; that you would exercise all the foresight which the situation demanded, and would oppose any such attempt on his part, as surely as if you were at open war with him. {9} But the Thebans, he believed—and the event proved that he was right—in return for what they were getting would let him do as he pleased in all that did not concern them; and far from acting against him, or preventing him effectively, would even join him in his campaign, if he bade them. His services to the Messenians and the Argives at the present moment are due to his having formed the same conception of them. And this, men of Athens, is the highest of all tributes to yourselves: {10} for these actions of his amount to a verdict upon you, that you alone of all peoples would never, for any gain to yourselves, sacrifice the common rights of the Hellenes, nor barter away your loyalty to them for any favour or benefit at his hands. This conception of you he has naturally formed, just as he has formed the opposite conception of the Argives and the Thebans, not only from his observation of the present, but also from his consideration of the past. {11} He discovers, I imagine, and is told, how when your forefathers might have been rulers of the rest of the Hellenes, on condition of submitting to the king themselves, they not only refused to tolerate the suggestion, on the occasion when Alexander [n], the ancestor of the present royal house, came as his herald to negotiate, but chose rather to leave their country and to face any suffering which they might have to endure; and how they followed up the refusal by those deeds which all are so eager to tell, but to which no one has ever been able to do justice; and for that reason, I shall myself forbear to speak of them, and rightly; for the grandeur of their achievements passes the power of language to describe. He knows, on the other hand, how the forefathers of the Thebans and Argives, in the one case, joined the barbarian army, in the other, offered no resistance to it. {12} He knows, therefore, that both these peoples will welcome what is to their own advantage, instead of considering the common interests of the Hellenes: and so he thought that, if he chose you for his allies, he would be choosing friends who would only serve a righteous cause; while if he joined himself to them, he would win accomplices who would further his own ambitions. That is why he chose them, as he chooses them now, in preference to you. For he certainly does not see them in possession of more ships than you; nor has he discovered some inland empire, and withdrawn from the seaboard and the trading-ports; nor does he forget the words and the promises, on the strength of which he was granted the Peace.

{13} But some one may tell us, with an air of complete knowledge of the matter, that what then moved Philip to act thus was not his ambition nor any of the motives which I impute to him, but his belief that the demands of Thebes were more righteous than your own. I reply, that this statement, above all others, is one which he cannot possibly make now. How can one who is ordering Sparta to give up Messene put forward his belief in the righteousness of the act, as his excuse for handing over Orchomenus and Coroneia to Thebes?

{14} 'But,' we are told (as the last remaining plea), 'he was forced to make these concessions, and did so against his better judgement, finding himself caught between the cavalry of Thessaly and the infantry of Thebes.' Admirable! And so, we are informed, he intends henceforth to be wary of the Thebans, and the tale goes round that he intends to fortify Elateia [n]. 'Intends,' indeed! and I expect that it will remain an intention! {15} But the help which he is giving to the Messenians and Argives is no 'intention'; for he is actually sending mercenaries to them and dispatching funds, and is himself expected to arrive on the spot with a great force. Is he trying to annihilate the Spartans, the existing enemies of Thebes, and at the same time protecting the Phocians, whom he himself has ruined? Who will believe such a tale? {16} For if Philip had really acted against his will and under compulsion in the first instance—if he were now really intending to renounce the Thebans—I cannot believe that he would be so consistently opposing their enemies. On the contrary, his present course plainly proves that his former action also was the result of deliberate policy; and to any sound observation, it is plain that the whole of his plans are being organized for one end—the destruction of Athens. {17} Indeed, this has now come to be, in a sense, a matter of necessity for him. Only consider. It is empire that he desires, and you, as he believes, are his only possible rivals in this. He has been acting wrongfully towards you for a long time, as he himself best knows; for it is the occupation of your possessions that enables him to hold all his other conquests securely, convinced, as he is, that if he had let Amphipolis and Poteidaea go, he could not dwell in safety even at home. {18} These two facts, then, he well knows—first, that his designs are aimed at you, and secondly, that you are aware of it: and as he conceives you to be men of sense, he considers that you hold him in righteous detestation: and, in consequence, his energies are roused: for he expects to suffer disaster, if you get your opportunity, unless he can anticipate you by inflicting it upon you. {19} So he is wide awake; he is on the alert; he is courting the help of others against Athens—of the Thebans and those Peloponnesians who sympathize with their wishes; thinking that their desire of gain will make them embrace the immediate prospect, while their native stupidity will prevent them from foreseeing any of the consequences. Yet there are examples, plainly visible to minds which are even moderately well-balanced[n]—examples which it fell to my lot to bring before Messenian and Argive audiences, but which had better, perhaps, be laid before yourselves as well.

{20} 'Can you not imagine,' I said, 'men of Messenia, the impatience with which the Olynthians used to listen to any speeches directed against Philip in those times, when he was giving up Anthemus to them—a city claimed as their own by all former Macedonian kings; when he was expelling the Athenian colonists from Poteidaea and presenting it to the Olynthians; when he had taken upon his own shoulders their quarrel with Athens, and given them the enjoyment of that territory? Did they expect, do you think, to suffer as they have done? if any one had foretold it, would they have believed him? {21} And yet,' I continued, 'after enjoying territory not their own for a very short time, they are robbed of their own by him for a great while to come; they are foully driven forth—not conquered merely, but betrayed by one another and sold; for it is not safe for a free state to be on these over-friendly terms with a tyrant. {22} What, again, of the Thessalians? Do you imagine,' I asked, 'that when he was expelling their tyrants, or again, when he was giving them Nicaea and Magnesia, they expected to see the present Council of Ten[n] established in their midst? Did they expect that the restorer of their Amphictyonic rights would take their own revenues from them for himself? Impossible! And yet these things came to pass, as all men may know. {23} You yourselves,' I continued, 'at present behold only the gifts and the promises of Philip. Pray, if you are really in your right minds, that you may never see the accomplishment of his deceit and treachery. There are, as you know well,' I said, 'all kinds of inventions designed for the protection and security of cities—palisades, walls, trenches, and every kind of defence. {24} All these are made with hands, and involve expense as well. But there is one safeguard which all sensible men possess by nature—a safeguard which is a valuable protection to all, but above all to a democracy against a tyrant. And what is this? It is distrust. Guard this possession and cleave to it; preserve this, and you need never fear disaster. {25} What is it that you desire?' I said. 'Is it freedom? And do you not see that the very titles that Philip bears are utterly alien to freedom? For a king, a tyrant, is always the foe of freedom and the enemy of law. Will you not be on your guard,' I said, 'lest in striving to be rid of war, you find yourselves slaves?'[n]

{26} My audience heard these words and received them with a tumult of approbation, as well as many other speeches from the envoys, both when I was present and again later. And yet, it seems, there is still no better prospect of their keeping Philip's friendship and promises at a distance. {27} In fact, the extraordinary thing is not that Messenians and certain Peloponnesians should act against their own better judgement, but that you who understand for yourselves, and who hear us, your orators, telling you, that there is a design against you, and that the toils are closing round you—that you, I say, by always refusing to act at once, should be about to find (as I think you will) that you have exposed yourselves unawares to the utmost peril: so much more does the pleasure and ease of the moment weigh with you, than any advantage to be reaped at some future date.

{28} In regard to the practical measures which you must take, you will, if you are wise, deliberate by yourselves[n] later. But I will at once propose an answer which you may make to-day, and which it will be consistent with your duty to have adopted.

[The answer is read.]

Now the right course, men of Athens, was to have summoned before you those who conveyed the promises[n] on the strength of which you were induced to make the Peace. {29} For I could never have brought myself to serve on the Embassy, nor, I am sure, would you have discontinued the war, had you imagined that Philip, when he had obtained peace, would act as he has acted. What we were then told was something very different from this. And there are others, too, whom you should summon. You ask whom I mean? After the Peace had been made, and I had returned from the Second Embassy, which was sent to administer the oaths, I saw how the city was being hoodwinked, and I spoke out repeatedly, protesting and forbidding you to sacrifice Thermopylae and the Phocians: {30} and the men to whom I refer were those who then said that a water-drinker[n] like myself was naturally a fractious and ill-tempered fellow; while Philip, if only he crossed the Pass, would fulfil your fondest prayers; for he would fortify Thespiae and Plataeae; he would put an end to the insolence of the Thebans; he would cut a canal through the Chersonese at his own charges, and would repay you for Amphipolis by the restoration of Euboea and Oropus. All this was said from this very platform, and I am quite sure that you remember it well, though your memory of those who injure you is but short. {31} To crown your disgrace, with nothing but these hopes in view, you resolved that this same Peace should hold good for your posterity also; so completely had you fallen under their influence. But why do I speak of all this now? why do I bid you summon these men? By Heaven, I will tell the truth without reserve, and will hold nothing back. {32} My object is not to give way to abuse, and so secure myself as good a hearing[n] as others in this place, while giving those who have come into collision with me from the first an opportunity for a further claim[n] upon Philip's money. Nor do I wish to waste time in empty words. {33} No; but I think that the plan which Philip is pursuing will some day trouble you more than the present situation does; for his design is moving towards fulfilment, and though I shrink from precise conjecture, I fear its accomplishment may even now be only too close at hand. And when the time comes when you can no longer refuse to attend to what is passing; when you no longer hear from me or from some other that it is all directed against you, but all alike see it for yourselves and know it for a certainty; then, I think, you will be angry and harsh enough. {34} And I am afraid that because your envoys have withheld from you the guilty secret of the purposes which they have been bribed to forward, those who are trying to remedy in some degree the ruin of which these men have been the instruments will fall victims to your wrath. For I observe that it is the general practice of some persons to vent their anger, not upon the guilty, but upon those who are most within their grasp. {35} While then the trouble is still to come, still in process of growth, while we can still listen to one another's words, I would remind each of you once more of what he well knows—who it was that induced you to sacrifice the Phocians and Thermopylae, the control of which gave Philip command of the road to Attica and the Peloponnesus; who it was, I say, that converted your debate about your rights and your interests abroad into a debate about the safety of your own country, and about war on your own borders—a war which will bring distress to each of us personally, when it is at our doors, but which sprang into existence on that day. {36} Had you not been misled by them, no trouble would have befallen this country. For we cannot imagine that Philip would have won victories by sea which would have enabled him to approach Attica with his fleet, or would have marched by land past Thermopylae and the Phocians; but he would either have been acting straightforwardly—keeping the Peace and remaining quiet; or else he would have found himself instantly plunged into a war no less severe than that which originally made him desirous of the Peace. {37} What I have said is sufficient by way of a reminder to you. Heaven grant that the time may not come when the truth of my words will be tested with all severity: for I at least have no desire to see any one meet with punishment, however much he may deserve his doom, if it is accompanied by danger and calamity to us all.



ON THE EMBASSY (OR. XIX)

[Introduction. The principal events with which a reader of this Speech ought to be acquainted have already been narrated (see especially the Introductions to the last two Speeches). The influence of the anti-Macedonian party grew gradually from the time of the Peace onwards. In 346, within a month after the return of the Second Embassy, the ambassadors presented their reports before the Logistae or Board of Auditors (after a futile attempt on the part of Aeschines to avoid making a report altogether); and Timarchus, supported by Demosthenes, there announced his intention of taking proceedings against Aeschines for misconduct on the Second Embassy. But Timarchus' own past history was not above reproach: he was attacked by Aeschines for the immoralities of his youth, which, it was stated, disqualified him from acting as prosecutor, and though defended by Demosthenes, was condemned and disfranchised (345 B.C.). But early in 343 Hypereides impeached Philocrates for corruption as ambassador, and obtained his condemnation to death—a penalty which he escaped by voluntary exile before the conclusion of the trial; and, later in the same year, Demosthenes brought the same charge against Aeschines.

In the meantime (since the delivery of Demosthenes' Second Philippic) Philip had been making fresh progress. The Arcadians and Argives (for the Athenian envoys to the Peloponnese in 344 seem to have had little success) were ready to open their gates to him. His supporters in Elis massacred their opponents, and with them the remnant of the Phocians who had crossed over to Elis with Phalaecus. At Megara, Perillus and Ptoeodorus almost succeeded in bringing a force of Philip's mercenaries into the town, but the attempt was defeated, by the aid of an Athenian force under Phocion. In Euboea Philip's troops occupied Porthmus, where the democratic party of Eretria had taken refuge, owing to an overthrow of the constitution (brought about by Philip's intrigues) which resulted in the establishment of Cleitarchus as tyrant. In the course of the same year (343) occurred two significant trials. The first was that of Antiphon, who had made an offer to Philip to burn the Athenian dockyards at the Peiraeus. He was summarily arrested by order of Demosthenes (probably in virtue of some administrative office): Aeschines obtained his release, but he was re-arrested by order of the Council of Areopagus[1] and condemned to death. The other trial was held before the Amphictyonic Council on the motion of the people of Delos, to decide whether the Athenians should continue to possess the right of managing the Temple of Delos. The Assembly chose Aeschines as counsel for Athens; but the Council of Areopagus, which had been given power to revise the appointment, put Hypereides in his place. Hypereides won the case. Early in 343 (or at all events before the middle of the year), Philip sent Python of Byzantium to complain of the language used about him by Athenian orators, and to offer to revise and amend the terms of the Peace of Philocrates. In response, an embassy was sent, headed by Hegesippus, a violent opponent of Macedonia, to propose to Philip (1) that instead of the clause 'that each party shall retain possession of what they have', a clause, 'that each party shall possess what is their own,' should be substituted; and (2) that all Greek States not included in the Treaty of Peace should be declared free, and that Athens and Philip should assist them, if they were attacked. These proposals, if sanctioned, would obviously have reopened the question of Amphipolis, Pydna, and Poteidaea, as well as of Cardia and the Thracian towns taken by Philip in 346. Hegesippus, moreover, was personally objectionable, and the embassy was dismissed with little courtesy by Philip, who even banished from Macedonia the Athenian poet Xenocleides for acting as host to the envoys. The feeling against Philip in Athens was evidently strong, when the prosecution of Aeschines by Demosthenes took place.

The trial was held before a jury (probably consisting of 1,501 persons), presided over by the Board of Auditors. Demosthenes spoke first, and Aeschines replied in a speech which is preserved. There is no doubt, on a comparison of the two speeches, that each, before it was published, received alterations and insertions, intended to meet the adversary's points, or to give a better colour to passages which had been unfavourably received. Probably not all the refutations 'in advance' were such in reality. But there is no sufficient reason to doubt that the speeches were delivered substantially as we have them. Aeschines was acquitted by thirty votes.

The question of the guilt or innocence of Aeschines will probably never be finally settled. A great part of his conduct can be explained as a sincere attempt to carry out the policy of Eubulus, or as the issue of a genuine belief that it was best for Athens to make terms with Philip and stand on his side. Even so the wisdom and the veracity of certain speeches which he had made is open to grave question; but this is a different thing from corruption. Moreover, to some of Demosthenes' arguments he has a conclusive reply. It is more difficult to explain his apparent change of opinion between the 18th and 19th of Elaphebolion, 346 (if Demosthenes' report of the debates is to be trusted); and some writers are disposed to date his corruption from the intervening night. Nor is it easy to meet Demosthenes' argument that if Aeschines had really been taken in by Philip, and believed the promises which he announced, or if he had actually heard Philip make the promises, he would have regarded Philip afterwards as a personal enemy, and not as a friend. But even on these points Aeschines might reply (though he could not reply so to the Athenian people or jury) that though he did not trust the promises, he regarded the interest of Athens as so closely bound up with the alliance with Philip, that he considered it justifiable to deceive the people into making the alliance, or at least to take the risk of the promises which he announced proving untrue. In any case there is no convincing evidence of corruption; and it may be taken as practically certain that he was not bribed to perform particular services. It is less certain that he was not influenced by generous presents from Philip in forming his judgement of Philip's character and intentions. The standard of Athenian public opinion in regard to the receipt of presents was not that of the English Civil Service; and the ancient orators accuse one another of corruption almost as a matter of course. (We have seen that Demosthenes began the attack upon Eubulus' party in this form as early as the Speech for the Rhodians; it appears in almost every subsequent oration: and in their turn, his opponents make the same charge against him.) It is, in any case, remarkable that at a time when the people was plainly exasperated with the Peace and its authors, and very ill-disposed towards Philip, a popular jury nevertheless acquitted Aeschines; and the verdict is not sufficiently explained either by the fact that Eubulus supported Aeschines or by the jurors' memory of Demosthenes' own part in the earlier peace-negotiations, though this must have weakened the force of his attack. That Demosthenes himself believed Aeschines to have been bribed, and could himself see no other explanation of his conduct, need not be doubted; and although the speech contains some of those misrepresentations of fact and passages of irrelevant personal abuse which deface some of his best work, it also contains some of his finest pieces of oratory and narrative.

The second part of the speech is more broken up into short sections and less clearly arranged than the first; earlier arguments are repeated, and a few passages may be due (at least in their present shape) to revision after the trial: but the latter part even as it stands is successful in leaving the points of greatest importance strongly impressed upon the mind.

The following analysis of the speech may enable the reader to find his way through it without serious difficulty:—

INTRODUCTION (Sec.Sec. 1-28)

(i) Exordium (Sec.Sec. 1, 2). Impartiality requested of the jury, in view of Aeschines' attempt to escape by indirect means.

(ii) Points of the trial (Sec.Sec. 3-8). An ambassador must (1) give true reports; (2) give good advice; (3) obey his instructions; (4) not lose time; (5) be incorruptible.

(iii) Preliminary exposition of the arguments (Sec.Sec. 9-28).

(1) The previous anti-Macedonian zeal of Aeschines suddenly collapsed after the First Embassy.

(2) In the deliberations on the Peace, Aeschines supported Philocrates.

(3) After the Second Embassy, Aeschines prevented Athens from guarding Thermopylae and saving the Phocians, by false reports and promises.

(4) Such a change of policy is only explicable by corruption.

PART 1 (Sec.Sec. 29-178)

The five points of Introduction (ii) are treated as three, or in three groups.

(i) The reports made by Aeschines on his return from the Second Embassy, and his advice, especially as to the ruin of the Phocians (Sec.Sec. 29-97).

(1) The reports (a) to the Senate, (b) to the People, and their reception (Sec.Sec. 29-46).

(2) Evidence that Aeschines conspired with Philip against the Phocians, whose ruin is described (Sec.Sec. 47-71).

(3) Refutation of three anticipated objections, beginning at Sec. 72, Sec. 78, Sec. 80 respectively (Sec.Sec. 72-82).

(4) The danger to Athens from Aeschines' treachery (Sec.Sec. 83-7).

(5) Request to confine the trial strictly to relevant points (Sec.Sec. 88-97).

(ii) The corruption of Aeschines by the bribes of Philip (Sec.Sec. 98-149).

(1) Arguments (beginning Sec. 102, Sec. 111, Sec. 114, Sec. 116) showing the corruption of Aeschines (Sec.Sec. 98-119).

(2) Refutation of anticipated objections (beginning at Sec. 120, Sec. 134, Sec. 147) (Sec.Sec. 120-49).

(iii) Aeschines' loss of time, by which Philip profited, and disobedience to his instructions (Sec.Sec. 150-77).

(1) Narrative of the Second Embassy (Sec.Sec. 150-62).

(2) Comparison of the two Embassies (Sec.Sec. 163-5).

(3) Comparison of Demosthenes' own conduct with that of the other ambassadors (Sec.Sec. 167-77). Recapitulation of the points established (Sec.Sec. 177, 178).

PART II (Sec.Sec. 179-343)

(i) The injury done to Athens—

(a) by the loss of Thrace and the Hellespont;

(b) generally, by false reports from ambassadors (Sec.Sec. 179-86).

(ii) Refutation of anticipated objections—

(a) 'It is not Philip's fault that he has not satisfied Athens' (Sec. 187).

(b) 'Demosthenes has no right to prosecute' (Sec.Sec. 188-220): including a digression (Sec.Sec. 192-200) on Aeschines' character and incidents in his life.

(iii) Demosthenes' object in prosecuting, passing into reproof of the laxity of Athens towards traitors (Sec.Sec. 221-33).

(iv) Warning against any attempt by Aeschines to confuse the dates and incidents of the two Embassies (Sec.Sec. 234-6.)

(v) Criticism of Aeschines' brothers and his prosecution of Timarchus (Sec.Sec. 237-58).

(vi) The increasing danger from traitors, and the traditional attitude of Athens towards them (Sec.Sec. 259-87).

(vii) Attack upon Eubulus for defending Aeschines (Sec.Sec. 288-99).

(viii) Philip's policy and methods; proofs of Aeschines' complicity repeated (Sec.Sec. 300-31).

(ix) Warnings to the jury against Aeschines' attempts to mislead them; and conclusion (Sec.Sec. 331-43).]

{1} How much interest this case has excited, men of Athens, and how much canvassing has taken place, must, I feel sure, have become fairly evident to you all, after the persistent overtures just now made to you, while you were drawing your lots.[n] Yet I will make the request of you all—a request which ought to be granted even when unasked—that you will not allow the favour or the person of any man to weigh more with you than justice and the oath which each of you swore before he entered the court. Remember that what I ask is for your own welfare and for that of the whole State; while the entreaties and the eager interest of the supporters of the accused have for their aim the selfish advantage of individuals: and it is not to confirm criminals in the possession of such advantages that the laws have called you together, but to prevent their attainment of them. {2} Now I observe that while all who enter upon public life in an honest spirit profess themselves under a perpetual responsibility, even when they have passed their formal examination, the defendant Aeschines does the very reverse. For before entering your presence to give an account of his actions, he has put out of the way one of those[n] who appeared against him at his examination; and others he pursues with threats, thus introducing into public life a practice which is of all the most atrocious and most contrary to your interests. For if one who has transacted and managed any public business is to render himself secure against accusation by spreading terror round him, rather than by the justice of his case, your supremacy[n] must pass entirely out of your hands.

{3} I have every confidence and belief that I shall prove the defendant guilty of many atrocious crimes, for which he deserves the extreme penalty of the law. But I will tell you frankly of the fear which troubles me in spite of this confidence. It seems to me, men of Athens, that the issue of every trial before you is determined as much by the occasion as by the facts; and I am afraid that the length of time which has elapsed since the Embassy may have caused you to forget the crimes of Aeschines, or to be too familiar with them. {4} I will tell you therefore how, in spite of this, you may yet, as I believe, arrive at a just decision and give a true verdict to-day. You have, gentlemen of the jury, to inquire and to consider what are the points on which it is proper to demand an account from an ambassador. He is responsible first for his report; secondly, for what he has persuaded you to do; thirdly, for his execution of your instructions; next, for dates; and, besides all these things, for the integrity or venality of his conduct throughout. {5} And why is he responsible in these respects? Because on his report must depend your discussion of the situation: if his report is true, your decision is a right one: if otherwise, it is the reverse. Again, you regard the counsels of ambassadors as especially trustworthy. You listen to them in the belief that they have personal knowledge of the matter with which they were sent to deal. Never, therefore, ought an ambassador to be convicted of having given you any worthless or pernicious advice. {6} Again, it is obviously proper that he should have carried out your instructions to him with regard to both speech and action, and your express resolutions as to his conduct. Very good. But why is he responsible for dates? Because, men of Athens, it often happens that the opportunity upon which much that is of great importance depends lasts but for a moment; and if this opportunity is deliberately and treacherously surrendered to the enemy, no subsequent steps can possibly recover it. {7} But as to the integrity or corruption of an ambassador, you would all, I am sure, admit that to make money out of proceedings that injure the city is an atrocious thing and deserves your heavy indignation. Yet the implied distinction was not recognized by the framer of our law. He absolutely forbade all taking of presents, thinking, I believe, that a man who has once received presents and been corrupted with money no longer remains even a safe judge of what is to the interest of the city. {8} If then I can convict the defendant Aeschines by conclusive proofs of having made a report that was utterly untrue, and prevented the people from hearing the truth from me; if I prove that he gave advice that was entirely contrary to your interests; that on his mission he fulfilled none of your instructions to him; that he wasted time, during which opportunities for accomplishing much that was of great importance were sacrificed and lost to the city; and that he received presents in payment for all these services, in company with Philocrates; then condemn him, and exact the penalty which his crimes deserve. If I fail to prove these points, or fail to prove them all, then regard me with contempt, and let the defendant go.