On the False Embassy

then the junior clerk, doing the dirty work of public offices for a few shillings a month: and at last, not so long ago, the parasite of the greenrooms, eking out by sponging what you earned as a player of trumpery parts! What is the life you will claim, and where have you lived it, when such is too clearly the sort of life you really have lived? And then the assurance of the man! Bringing another man[*](Timarchus; see Introd. p. 234.) before this court on a charge of unnatural crime! However, I will let that go for the present. First read these depositions.

(The Depositions are read)

Of all these heinous crimes against the commonwealth, gentlemen of the jury, he has been proved guilty. No element of baseness is lacking. Bribe-taker, sycophant, guilty under the curse, a liar, a traitor to his friends,—here are flagrant charges indeed! Yet he will not defend himself against any one of them; he has no honest and straightforward defence to offer. As for the topics on which, as I am informed, he intends to dwell, they border on insanity,—though, perhaps, a man devoid of any honest plea cannot help resorting to all manner of shifts.

For I hear that he will tell you that I participated in all the acts I am denouncing, that I approved of them, and co-operated with him, and now have suddenly changed my mind and become his accuser. That is no honest and decent defence against specific charges; it is, however, an accusation against me; for if I acted as he says, I am a worthless person; but that is far from making his actions a whit better.

However, it is incumbent on me, I suppose, first, to satisfy you that the allegation, if he makes it, will be false, and secondly, to show you what is an honest defence. Now it is an honest and straightforward defence to prove either that the acts alleged were never committed, or that, if committed, they were for the advantage of the state. But he cannot make good either of these positions.

He cannot claim as advantages the destruction of the Phocians, or Philip’s occupation of Thermopylae, or the aggrandizement of Thebes, or the invasion of Euboea, or the designs against Megara, or the unratified peace; for he reported himself that exactly the opposite was going to happen and would be to your advantage. Neither can he convince you, against the evidence of your own eyes and your own knowledge, that these disasters are fabulous.

My remaining duty is to prove that I had no partnership with these men in any of their doings. Is it your wish that I should put aside the rest of the story,—how I spoke against them in Assembly, how I fell out with them on the journey, how from first to last I persistently opposed them,—and should produce these men themselves as my witnesses to testify that my conduct and theirs has been utterly at variance, that they accepted money to thwart you, and that I refused it? Then observe.

Whom would you call the most detestable person in all Athens, and the most swollen with impudence and superciliousness? No one, I am sure, would name, even by a slip of the tongue, anyone but Philocrates. Who is the most vehement speaker, the man who can express himself most emphatically with the aid of his big voice? Undoubtedly Aeschines. Whom do these men call timid and faint-hearted, or, as I should say, diffident, in addressing a crowd? Me; for I never worried you; I have never tried to dragoon you against your inclinations.

Well, at every Assembly, whenever there is any discussion of this business, you hear me denouncing and incriminating these men, and declaring roundly that they have taken bribes and made traffic of all the interests of the commonwealth; and no one of them ever contradicts me, or opens his mouth, or lets himself be seen.

How comes it then that the most impudent men in Athens, and the loudest speakers, are overborne by me, the nervous man, who can speak no louder than another? Because truth is strong, and consciousness of corruption weak. Conscience paralyses their audacity; conscience cripples their tongues, closes their lips, stifles them, puts them to silence.

You remember the most recent occasion, at Peiraeus only the other day, when you refused to appoint Aeschines to an embassy, how he bellowed at me: I will impeach you,—I will indict you,—aha! aha And yet a threat of impeachment involves endless speeches and litigation; but here are just two or three simple words that a slave bought yesterday could deliver: Men of Athens, here is a strange thing! This man accuses me of offences in which he himself took part. He says that I have taken bribes, when he took them, or shared them, himself.

He never spoke, he never uttered a word of that speech; none of you heard it; he only vented idle menaces. The reason is that he was conscious of guilt; he cowered like a slave before those words; his thoughts did not approach them but recoiled from them, arrested by his evil conscience. Mere vague invective and abuse there was no one to stop.

And now comes the strongest possible point—not a matter of assertion but of fact. I wished to do the honest thing, and to give an account of myself twice, because I had been appointed ambassador twice; but Aeschines approached the Court of Scrutiny, taking with him a crowd of witnesses, and forbade them to summon me, on the ground that I had already submitted to scrutiny, and was no longer liable. What was the real meaning of this ludicrous proceeding? Having himself rendered his account of the earlier embassy, with which nobody found fault, he did not wish to come into court in respect of the embassy for which he is now under examination; and that is the embassy that includes all his misdeeds.

But, if I came into court twice, he could not avoid a second appearance, and therefore he would not let me be summoned. Yet that act, men of Athens, proves two propositions: first, that Aeschines has pronounced his own condemnation, and therefore you cannot conscientiously acquit him today; and secondly, that he will not have a truthful word to say about me, otherwise he would have spoken out and denounced me then, instead of trying to block my summons.

To prove the truth of these statements, please call the witnesses.[*](Here and elsewhere (e.g. Dem. 19.233) Demosthenes has time to insert a few remarks while the witnesses are being collected and before their depositions are read.)

If, however, he says scurrilous things about me, not pertinent to the question of the embassy, there are many reasons why you should not listen. I am not on my trial today, and I shall have no second opportunity[*](no second opportunity: lit. no one will hereafter pour water for me, i.e. into the clepsydra [57].) of speaking. It will only mean that he is destitute of honest arguments. No culprit would deliberately choose to prefer accusations, if he had any defence to offer.

Or again, look at it in this light, gentlemen of the jury. Suppose that I were on trial, with Aeschines for my accuser, and Philip for my judge, and suppose that, being unable to deny my guilt, I were to vilify Aeschines and throw mud at him; do you not think that that is just what would move Philip’s indignation, his own benefactors calumniated before his own tribunal? Do not be less rigorous than Philip, but compel him to address his defence to the real issues of this controversy. Now read the deposition.

(The Deposition is read)

Thus in my consciousness of innocence I thought it my duty to render my account and accept my full legal liability, while Aeschines did not. Is my conduct then the echo of his? Is it competent for him to lay before this court charges which he has never made before? Assuredly not; and yet he will lay them, for a very good reason. For you know that, ever since mankind and the criminal law first came into being, no culprit has ever been convicted while confessing his guilt. They vapor, they gainsay, they tell lies, they forge excuses,—anything to evade justice.

Do not be duped today by any of these stale tricks. You must pass judgement on the facts, according to your knowledge; you must pay no heed either to my assertions or to his, nor even to the witnesses whom he will have in waiting, with Philip as his paymaster, and you will see how glibly they will testify. You must not notice what a fine loud voice he has, and what a poor voice I have.

If you are wise, you must not treat this trial as a competition of forensic eloquence; but in regard to a dishonorable and perilous catastrophe, cast back upon the guilty the dishonor that attaches to it, after reviewing transactions that lie within the knowledge of you all. What, then, are the facts that you know and I need not recount?