On the Crown

What course of action was proper for a patriotic citizen who was trying to serve his country with all possible prudence and energy and loyalty? Surely it was to protect Attica on the sea-board by Euboea, on the inland frontier by Boeotia, and on the side towards Peloponnesus by our neighbors in that direction; to make provision for the passage of our corn-supply along friendly coasts all the way to Peiraeus;

to preserve places already at our disposal, such as Proconnesus, Chersonesus, Tenedos, by sending succor to them and by suitable speeches and resolutions; to secure the friendship and alliance of such places as Byzantium, Abydos, and Euboea; to destroy the most important of the existing resources of the enemy, and to make good the deficiencies of our own city. All these purposes were accomplished by my decrees and my administrative acts.

Whoever will study them, men of Athens, without jealousy, will find that they were rightly planned and honestly executed; that the proper opportunity for each several measure was never neglected, or ignored, or thrown away by me: and that nothing within the compass of one man’s ability or forethought was left undone. If the superior power of some deity or of fortune, or the incompetence of commanders, or the wickedness of traitors, or all these causes combined, vitiated and at last shattered the whole enterprise,—is Demosthenes guilty?

If in each of the cities of Greece there had been some one man such as I was in my appointed station in your midst, nay, if Thessaly had possessed one man and Arcadia one man holding the same sentiments that I held, no Hellenic people beyond or on this side of Thermopylae would have been exposed to their present distresses:

they would still be dwelling prosperously in their own countries, in freedom and independence, securely and without fear, grateful to you and to all the Athenians for the great and manifold blessings they owed to me. To prove that, as a precaution against envy, I am using words that do less than justice to my deeds, please take these papers, and read the list of expeditions sent in pursuance of my decrees.

(The List of Expeditions in Aid is read)

It was the duty, Aeschines, of an upright and honor able citizen to take these or similar measures. If they had been successful, we should have been, beyond controversy, the greatest of nations and a nation that deserved its greatness: and, though they have failed, there remains the result that our reputation stands high, and that no man can find fault with Athens or her policy, but lays the blame on the fortune that so ordered the issue.

Assuredly it was not the duty of such a citizen to abandon the cause of his country, to take the hire of her adversaries, to wait on the occasions, not of Athens, but of her enemies. It was not his duty to look with an evil eye upon a man who had made it his business to support or propose measures worthy of our traditions, and was resolved to stand by such measures; nor to treasure vindictively the memory of private annoyances. Nor was it his duty to hold his peace dishonestly and deceptively, as you so often do.

There is, indeed, a silence that is honest and beneficial to the city, such as is observed in all simplicity by the majority of you citizens. Not such, but far, far different, is the silence of Aeschines. Withdrawing himself from public life whenever he thinks fit—and that is very frequently—he lies in wait for the time when you will be weary of the incessant speaker, or when some unlucky reverse has befallen you, or any of those vexations that are so frequent in the life of mortal men; and then, seizing the occasion, he breaks silence and the orator reappears like a sudden squall, with his voice in fine training; he strings together the words and the phrases that he has accumulated, emphatically and without a pause; but, alas, they are all useless, they serve no good purpose, they are directed to the injury of this or that citizen, and to the discredit of the whole community.

Yet if all that assiduous practice, Aeschines, had been conducted in a spirit of honesty and of solicitude for your country’s well-being, it should have yielded a rich and noble harvest for the benefit of us all—alliances of states, new revenues, development of commerce, useful legislation, measures of opposition to our avowed enemies.

In days of old all those services afforded the recognized test of statesmanship: and the time through which you have passed supplied to an upright politician many opportunities of showing his worth; but among such men you won no position—you were neither first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, nor anywhere in the race—at least when the power of your country was to be enlarged.

What alliance does Athens owe to your exertions? What auxiliary expedition, what gain of amity or reputation? What embassy or service, by which the credit of the city has been raised? What project in domestic, Hellenic, or foreign policy, of which you took charge, has ever been successful? What war-galleys, or munitions, or docks, or fortifications, or cavalry, do we owe to you? Of what use in the wide world are you? What public-spirited assistance have you ever given to rich or to poor? None whatever.

But come, sir, without any of these things a man may show patriotism and zeal. Where? When? Why, you incorrigible knave, even at the time when every man who ever spoke from the tribune gave freely to the national defence, when at last even Aristonicus gave the money he had collected to redeem his citizenship, you never came forward and put your name down for a farthing. And yet you were certainly not without means, for you had inherited more than five talents from the estate of your father-in-law Philo, and you had a present of two talents, subscribed by the chairmen of the Navy Boards, as a reward for spoiling the Navy Reform Bill.

However, I will pass that by, for fear I should stray from my immediate purpose by telling one story after another. It is clear that you refused to contribute, not because you were poor, but because you were careful not to do anything in opposition to the party you serve in politics. Then on what occasions are you a man of spirit? When are you a shining light? Whenever something is to be said in prejudice of your fellow-citizens; then your voice is magnificent, then your memory is wonderful; then we hear the great tragedian, the Theocrines[*](Theocrines, a notorious informer; prosecuted in a speech attributed to Demosthenes.) of the legitimate drama.

Then you remind us of the heroes of past generations. Quite right: but it is not fair, men of Athens, to take advantage of the affection you cherish for the departed, and analyze me, who am still living in your midst, by comparing me with them.

Everybody knows that against the living there is always an undercurrent of more or less jealousy, while the dead are no longer disliked even by their enemies. Such is human nature; am I then to be criticized and canvassed by comparison with my predecessors? Heaven forbid! No, Aeschines; that is unfair and unjust: compare me with yourself, or with any living man you choose, whose principles are identical with yours.

Consider this question: is it more decent and patriotic that for the sake of the services of men of old times, enormous as they were, nay, great beyond expression, the services that are now being rendered to the present age should be treated with ingratitude and vituperation, or that every man who achieves anything in a spirit of loyalty should receive some share of the respect and consideration of his fellow-citizens?

If I must deal with that subject, I say that, if my policy and my principles are considered, they will be found to resemble in spirit and purpose those of the venerated names of antiquity. Yours are like those of the men who maligned them: for it is certain that, even in their days, there were men who were always carping at the living and commending the dead—a spiteful vocation, and just like yours. You tell me I am not at all like those great men.

Are you like them, Aeschines? Or your brother? Or any other orator of this generation? In my opinion, none. Then, my honest friend— to call you nothing worse—assay a living man by the standard of living men, men of his own time. That is the test you apply to everything else—to dramatists, to choruses, to athletes.

Philammon did not leave Olympia without a crown, because he was not so strong as Glaucus of Carystus, or other bygone champions: he was crowned and proclaimed victor, because he fought better than the men who entered the ring against him. You must compare me with the orators of today; with yourself, for instance, or anyone you like: I exclude none.

When the commonwealth was at liberty to choose the best policy, when there was a competition of patriotism open to all comers, I made better speeches than any other man, and all business was conducted by my resolutions, my statutes, my diplomacy. Not one o f you ever put in an appearance— except when you must needs fall foul of my measures. But when certain deplorable events had taken place, and there was a call, not for counsellors, but for men who would obey orders, who were ready to injure their country for pay, and willing to truckle to strangers, then you and your party were at your post, great men with gorgeous equipages.[*](To keep a stud of horses, whether for racing purposes or for use in the cavalry, was at Athens the favorite method for displaying wealth.) I was powerless, I admit; but I was still the better patriot.