On the Crown

There are two traits, men of Athens, that mark the disposition of the well-meaning citizen;—that is a description I may apply to myself without offence. When in power, the constant aim of his policy should be the honor and the ascendancy of his country; and on every occasion and in all business he should preserve his loyalty. That virtue depends on his natural disposition: ability and success depend upon other considerations.

Such, you will find, has been my disposition, abidingly and without alloy. Look at the facts. They demanded that I should be given up; they arraigned me before the Amphictyonic Council; they tried me with threats, they tried me with promises; they set these miscreants to worry me like a pack of wolves; but through it all I never renounced my loyalty to you. At the very outset of my career I had chosen once for all the path of political uprightness and integrity, and resolved to support, to magnify, and to associate myself with the honor, the power, and the glory of my native land.

I do not perambulate the marketplace, gaily exulting in the good fortune of the alien, holding out my right hand, and telling the glad tidings to anyone I think likely to send word over yonder. When I hear of my country’s successes, I do not shudder, and sigh, and hang down my head, like those blasphemers, who traduce Athens, forgetting that thereby they are traducing themselves; who turn their eyes abroad, and, when the alien has prospered by the distresses of Greece, applaud his good fortune, and declare that we must try to preserve it for ever.

Never, O ye Powers of Heaven, never vouchsafe to them the fulfillment of that desire. If it be possible, implant even in them a better purpose and a better spirit; but, if their malady is incurable, consign them, and them alone, to utter and untimely destruction by land and sea, and to us who remain grant speedy deliverance from the terrors that hang over our heads, and a salvation that shall never fail.