In all the Greek states—not in some but in every one of them—it chanced that there had sprung up the most abundant crop of traitorous, venal, and profligate politicians ever known within the memory of mankind. These persons Philip adopted as his satellites and accomplices. The disposition of Greeks towards one another was already vicious and quarrelsome and he made it worse. Some he cajoled; some he bribed; some he corrupted in every possible way. He split them into many factions, although all had one common interest—to thwart his aggrandizement.

Now seeing that all Greece was in such a plight, and still unconscious of a gathering and ever-growing evil, what was the right policy for Athens to adopt, and the right action for her to take? That is the question, men of Athens, which you ought to consider, and that is the issue on which I ought to be called to account; for I was the man who took up a firm position in that department of your public affairs.

Was it the duty of our city, Aeschines, to abase her pride, to lower her dignity, to rank herself with Thessalians and Dolopians, to help Philip to establish his supremacy over Greece, to annihilate the glories and the prerogatives of our forefathers? Or, if she rejected that truly shameful policy, was she to stand by and permit aggressions which she must have long foreseen, and knew would succeed if none should intervene?

I would now like to ask the man who censures our past conduct most severely, what party he would have wished our city to join. The party that shares the guilt of all the disasters and dishonors that have befallen Greece,—the party, as one may say, of the Thessalians and their associates? Or that which permitted those disasters in the hope of selfish gain, the party in which we may include the Arcadians, the Messenians, and the Argives?

Why, the fate of many, indeed of all, of those nations is worse than ours. For if, after his victory, Philip had at once taken himself off, and relapsed into inactivity, harassing neither his own allies nor any other Greeks, there might have been some reason for finding fault with the opponents of his enterprises; but seeing that, wherever he could, he destroyed the prestige, the authority, the independence, and even the constitution of every city alike, who can deny that you chose the most honor able of all policies when you followed my advice?

To resume my argument: I ask you, Aeschines, what was the duty of Athens when she perceived that Philip’s purpose was to establish a despotic empire over all Greece? What language, what counsels, were incumbent upon an adviser of the people at Athens, of all places in the world, when I was conscious that, from the dawn of her history to the day when I first ascended the tribune, our country had ever striven for primacy, and honor, and renown, and that to serve an honor able ambition and the common welfare of Greece she had expended her treasure and the lives of her sons far more generously than any other Hellenic state fighting only for itself;

and knowing as I did that our antagonist Philip himself, contending for empire and supremacy, had endured the loss of his eye, the fracture of his collar-bone, the mutilation of his hand and his leg, and was ready to sacrifice to the fortune of war any and every part of his body, if only the life of the shattered remnant should be a life of honor and renown?

Surely no man will dare to call it becoming that in a man reared at Pella, then a mean and insignificant city, such lofty ambition should be innate as to covet the dominion of all Greece, and admit that aspiration to his soul, while you, natives of Athens, observing day by day, in every speech you hear and ill every spectacle you behold, memorials of the high prowess of your forefathers, should sink to such cowardice as by a spontaneous, voluntary act to surrender your liberty to a Philip.

No one will make that assertion. The only remaining, and the necessary, policy was to resist with justice all his unjust designs. That policy was adopted by you from the start in a spirit that well became you, and forwarded by me in all my proposals, according to the opportunities of my public life. I admit the charge. Tell me; what ought I to have done? I put the question to you, Aeschines, dismissing for the moment everything else—Amphipolis, Pydna, Potidaea, Halonnesus. I have no recollection of those places.

Serrium, Doriscus, the sack of Peparethus, and all other injuries of our city—I ignore them utterly. Yet you told us that I entangled the citizens in a quarrel by my talk about those places, though every resolution that concerned them was moved by Eubulus, or Aristophon, or Diopeithes, not by me; only you allege so glibly whatever suits your purpose!

Even now I will not discuss them. But here was a man annexing Euboea and making it a basis of operations against Attica, attacking Megara, occupying Oreus, demolishing Porthmus, establishing the tyranny of Philistides at Oreus and of Cleitarchus at Eretria, subjugating the Hellespont, besieging Byzantium, destroying some of the Greek cities, reinstating exiled traitors in others: by these acts was he, or was he not, committing injustice, breaking treaty, and violating the terms of peace? Was it, or was it not, right that some man of Grecian race should stand forward to stop those aggressions?

If it was not right, if Greece was to present the spectacle, as the phrase goes, of the looting of Mysia,looting of Mysia, by pirates; the proverbial example of cowardly non-resistance. while Athenians still lived and breathed, then I am a busybody, because I spoke of those matters, and Athens, too, is a busybody because she listened to me; and let all her misdeeds and blunders be charged to my account! But if it was right that some one should intervene, on whom did the duty fall, if not on the Athenian democracy? That then was my policy. I saw a man enslaving all mankind, and I stood in his way. I never ceased warning you and admonishing you to surrender nothing.

The peace was broken by Philip, when he seized those merchantmen; not by Athens, Aeschines. Produce the decrees, and Philip’s letter, and read them in their proper order. They will show who was responsible for each several proceeding.

(A Decree is read)

that on their arrival they shall confer with him about the seizure of the admiral and the ships and the soldiers, and, if Amyntas acted in ignorance, they shall say that the people attach no blame to him; or, if the admiral was caught exceeding his instructions, that the Athenians will investigate the matter, and punish him as his carelessness shall deserve; if, on the other hand, neither of these suppositions is true, but it was a deliberate affront on the part either of the officer or of his superior, they shall state the same, in order that the people, being apprised of it, may decide what course to take.

This decree was drawn up by Eubulus, not by me; the next in order by Aristophon; then we have Hegesippus, then Aristophon again, then Philocrates, then Cephisophon, and so on. I proposed no decree dealing with these matters. Go on reading.

(Another Decree is read)

As I cite these decrees, Aeschines, you must cite some decree by proposing which I became responsible for the war. But you cannot cite one; if you could, there is no document which you would have produced more readily just now. Why, even Philip’s letter casts no blame upon me in respect of the war: he imputes it to other men. Read Philip’s actual letter.

(Philip’s Letter is read)

These instructions were given to the admiral, without the cognizance of the Athenian People, by certain officials and by others who are now out of office, but who were anxious by every means in their power to change the present friendly attitude of the people towards me to one of open hostility, being indeed much more zealous for this consummation than for the relief of the Selymbrians. They conceive that such a policy will be a source of income to themselves; it does not, however, strike me as profitable either for you or for me. Therefore the vessels now in my harbors I hereby release to you; and for the future, if, instead of permitting your statesmen to pursue this malicious policy, you will be good enough to c ensure them, I too will endeavor to preserve the peace. Farewell.

In this letter there is no mention of the name of Demosthenes, nor any charge against me. Why does he forget my acts, when he blames others? Because he could not mention me without recalling his own transgressions, on which I fixed my attention, and which I strove to resist. I began by proposing the embassy to Peloponnesus, when first he tried to get a footing there; then the embassy to Euboea, when he was tampering with Euboea; then an expedition— not an embassy—to Oreus, and again to Eretria, when he had set up tyrants in those cities.

Subsequently I dispatched all those squadrons by which the Chersonese was rescued from him, and Byzantium, and all our allies. By this policy you gained much glory, receiving commendations, eulogies, compliments, decorations, and votes of thanks from the recipients of y our favors. Of the nations that suffered aggression, those who followed your advice gained their salvation, while those who scorned it have had many occasions since to remember your warnings, and to acknowledge not only your goodwill but your sagacity and foresight, for everything has turned out as you predicted.