On the Crown

Demosthenes

Demosthenes. Vol. II. De Corona, De Falsa Legatione, XVIII, XIX. Vince, C. A. and Vince, J. H., translators. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926 (1939 reprint).

(The Decree of Demosthenes is read

In the archonship of Nausicles, the tribe Aeantis then holding the presidency, on the sixteenth day of Scirophorion, Demosthenes, son of Demosthenes, of Paeania, proposed that, whereas Philip of Macedon is proved in the past to have violated the terms of peace agreed to between him and the People of Athens, disregarding his oaths and the principles of equity as recognized among all the Greeks: and whereas he appropriates cities not belonging to him, and has captured in war some that actually belonged to the Athenians without provocation from the Athenian people, and is today making great advances in violence and cruelty,

for of some Greek cities he overthrows the constitution, putting a garrison in them, others he razes to the ground, selling the inhabitants into slavery, others he colonizes with barbarians instead of Greeks, handing over to them the temples and the sepulchres, acting as might be expected from his nationality and his character and making insolent use of his present fortune, forgetful of how he rose to greatness unexpectedly from a small and ordinary beginning;

and whereas, so long as the People of Athens saw him seizing barbarian states, belonging to themselves alone, they conceived that their own wrongs were of less account, but now, seeing Greek states outraged or wiped out, they consider it a scandal and unworthy of the reputation of their ancestors to suffer the Greeks to he enslaved;

therefore be it resolved by the Council and People of Athens, after offering prayers and sacrifices to the gods and heroes who guard the city and country of the Athenians, and after taking into consideration their ancestors’ merits, in that they ranked the preservation of the liberties of Greece above the claims of their own state, that two hundred ships be launched, and that the Admiral sail into the Straits of Thermopylae, and that the General and commander of the cavalry march out with the infantry and cavalry to Eleusis; also that ambassadors be sent to the other Greeks, but first of all to the Thebans, because Philip is nearest to their territory,

and exhort them not to be dismayed at Philip, but to hold fast to their own liberty and the liberty of the other Greeks, assuring them t hat the people of Athens, harboring no ill will for previous mutual differences between the states, will help them with troops, money, ammunition, and arms, knowing that, while it is an honor able ambition for Greeks to dispute with each other for the hegemony, yet to be ruled by a man of alien race and to be robbed by him of that hegemony is unworthy both of the reputation of the Greeks and of the merits of their ancestors.

Furthermore, the People of Athens regard the people of Thebes as in no way alien either in race or in nationality. They remember the services rendered by their own ancestors to the ancestors of the Thebans, for, when the sons of Heracles were dispossessed by the Peloponnesians of their paternal dominion, they restored them, overcoming in battle those who were trying to oppose the descendants of Heracles; and we harbored Oedipus and his family when they were banished; and many other notable acts of kindness have we done to the Thebans.

Therefore now also the people of Athens will not desert the cause of Thebes and the other Greeks. An alliance shall be arranged with them, and rights of intermarriage established, and oaths exchanged. —Ambassadors appointed: Demosthenes, son of Demosthenes, of Paeania, Hypereides, son of Cleander, of Sphettus, Mnesitheides, son of Antiphanes, of Phrearrii, Democrates, son of Sophilus, of Phlya, Callaeschrus, son of Diotimus, of Cothocidae.

Such was the first beginning and such the basis of our negotiations with Thebes; the first, I say, for hitherto the two cities had been dragged by these men into mutual enmity, hatred, and distrust. The decree was made, and the danger that environed the city passed away like a summer cloud. Then was the time therefore for an honest man to point, if he could, to a better way; now cavilling comes too late.

That is the salient difference between the statesman and the charlatan, who are indeed in all respects unlike one another. The statesman declares his judgement before the event, and accepts responsibility to his followers, to fortune, to the chances of the hour, to every critic of his policy. The charlatan holds his peace when he ought to speak, and then croaks over any untoward result.

That then, as I said, was the opportunity for any man who cared for Athens or for honest discussion. But I will make a large concession. If even now any man can point to a better way, nay, if any policy whatever, save mine, was even praticable, I plead guilty. If anyone has now discerned any course which might have been taken profitably then, I admit that I ought not to have missed it. But if there is none, if there never was any, if to this very day no one is able to name any, what was a statesman to do? Surely to choose the best policy among those that were visible and feasible.

That is what I did, Aeschines, when the marshal put the question, Who wishes to speak? He did not ask, Who wishes to rake up old grievances? or, Who wishes to be answerable for the future? In those days you sat speechless at every assembly; I came forward and spoke. You had nothing to say then; very well,—show us our duty now. Tell me what plan I ought to have discovered. Tell me what favorable opportunity was lost to the state by my default. Tell me of any alliance, or any negotiation, to which I ought by preference to have introduced the people.

Bygones are bygones, all the world over. No one proposes deliberation about the past; it is the present and the future that call the statesman to his post. And at that time, as we all thought, there were future perils and there were present perils. Look at the policy I chose in the light of those perils; do not carp at results. The issue depends on the will of a higher Power; the mind of the statesman is manifested in his policy.

You must not accuse me of crime, because Philip happened to win the battle; for the event was in God’s hands, not mine. Show me that I did not adopt, as far as human calculation could go, all the measures that were practicable, or that I did not carry them out with honesty and diligence, and with an industry that overtaxed my strength; or else show me that the enterprises I initiated were not honor able, worthy of Athens, and inevitable. Prove that, and then denounce me; but not till then.

If the hurricane that burst upon us has been too strong, not for us alone, but for every Hellenic state,—what then? As if a shipowner, who had done everything in his power for a prosperous voyage, who had equipped his craft with every appliance he could think of to ensure her safety, should encounter a great storm, and then, because his tackle was overstrained or even shattered, should be accused of the crime of shipwreck! But, he might say, I was not at the helm—nor was I in command of the army—and I could not control fortune, but fortune controls all.

Here is another point for your consideration. If we were destined to disaster when we fought with the Thebans at our side, what were we to expect if we had lacked even that alliance, and if they had joined Philip, a union for which he exerted all his powers of appeal? And if, after a battle fought three days’ march from the frontier, such danger and such alarm beset the city, what must we have expected after suffering the same defeat within our own borders? Do you not see that, as it was, one, or two, or three days gave the city time for resistance, concentration, recovery, for much that made for deliverance; as it might have been—but I will not mention an experience that we were spared by divine favor, and by the protection of that very alliance which you denounce.

Gentlemen of the jury, all this long story is intended for you, and for that circle of hearers outside the barrier. For this contemptible fellow, I have a short, plain, and sufficient answer. Aeschines, if the future was revealed to you and to nobody else, you should have given us the benefit of your predictions when we were deliberating; if you had no foreknowledge, you are open to the charge of ignorance just like the rest of us. Then what better right have you to denounce me than I to denounce you?

In respect of the business of which I am speaking— and at present I discuss nothing else—I am a better citizen than you, in so far as I devoted myself to a course of action that was unanimously approved, neither shirking nor even counting any personal danger. You made no more acceptable suggestion, otherwise mine would not have been adopted; and in carrying out mine you were not of the slightest use. You are proved after the event to have behaved throughout like a worthless and most unpatriotic citizen; and now, by a strange coincidence, those thorough-going enemies of Athens, Aristratus at Naxos and Aristolaus at Thasos, are bringing the friends of Athens to trial, while at Athens itself Aeschines is accusing Demosthenes.

And yet he who built his reputation on the accumulated misfortunes of Greece deserves rather to perish himself than to prosecute his neighbor; and the man who has found his profit in the same emergencies as his country’s foes can make no claim to patriotism. You stand revealed in your life and conduct, in your public performances and also in your public abstinences. A project approved by the people is going forward. Aeschines is speechless. A regrettable incident is reported. Aeschines is in evidence. He reminds one of an old sprain or fracture: the moment you are out of health it begins to be active.

As he lays so much stress on results, let me venture on a paradox. If it seems extravagant, I beg that you will not be surprised, but that you will still give friendly consideration to what I am saying. Suppose that the future had been revealed to all of us, that every one had known what would happen, and that you, Aeschines, had predicted and protested, and shouted and stormed—though in fact you never opened your mouth—even then the city could not have departed from that policy, if she had any regard for honor, or for our ancestors, or for the days that are to come.

All that can be said now is, that we have failed and that is the common lot of humanity, if God so wills. But then, if Athens, after claiming the primacy of the nations, had run away from her claims, she would have been held guilty of betraying Greece to Philip. If, without striking a blow, she had abandoned the cause for which our forefathers flinched from no peril, is there a man who would not have spat in your face? In your face, Aeschines: not at Athens, not at me!