On the False Embassy

when, I say, the business had gone so far as that, and corruption had won the day, then, though they numbered more than ten thousand and had a thousand cavalry, though all their neighbors were in alliance with them, though you came to their aid with ten thousand mercenaries, fifty war-galleys, and four thousand of your citizen-force, nothing could save them. Before the war had lasted a year they had lost every town in Chalcidice through treachery, and Philip could no longer pay any attention to the traitors, and hardly knew what to capture first.

He took five hundred horsemen with all their equipment by the treason of their officers—a number beyond all precedent. The perpetrators of that infamy were not put to the blush by the sun that shone on their shame or by the soil of their native land on which they stood, by temples or by sepulchres, by the ignominy that waited on their deeds: such madness, men of Athens, such obliquity, does corruption engender! Therefore it behoves you, you the commonalty of Athens, to keep your senses, to refuse toleration to such practices, and to visit them with public retribution. For indeed it would be monstrous if, after passing so stern a decree of censure upon the men who betrayed the Olynthians, you should have no chastisement for those who repeat their iniquity in your own midst. Read the decree concerning the Olynthians.

(The Decree is read)

Gentlemen of the jury, by the universal judgement of Greeks and barbarians alike, you acted well and righteously in passing this vote of censure upon traitors and reprobates. Therefore, inasmuch as bribe-taking is the forerunner of such treasons, and for the sake of bribes men commit them, whenever, men of Athens, you see any man taking bribes, you may be sure that he is also a traitor. If one man betrays opportunities, another negotiations, another soldiery, each one is making havoc of the business he controls, and all alike deserve your reprobation.

In dealing with them you, men of Athens, and you alone among the nations of the world, can find examples to imitate in your own history, and may emulate in act the forefathers whom you justly commend. For if at the present time you are at peace, and cannot emulate the battles, the campaigns, the hazards of war, in which they won renown, you may at least imitate their sound judgement.

That is wanted in all circumstances; and an honest judgement costs you no more pains and vexation than a vicious judgement. Each of you will sit in this court for just as long a time, whether, by reaching a right decision and giving a right verdict upon this case, he amends the condition of the commonwealth and does credit to his ancestry, or, by a wrong decision, impairs that condition and dishonors that ancestry. What, then, was their judgement in such a case?—Clerk, take this and read it.—For I would have you know that you are treating with indifference offences such as your forefathers once punished with death.

(A Public Inscription is read)

You hear, men of Athens, the record which declares Arthmius, son of Pythonax, of Zelea, to be enemy and foeman of the Athenian people and their allies, him and all his kindred. His offence was conveying gold from barbarians to Greeks. Hence, apparently, we may conclude that your ancestors were anxious to prevent any man, even an alien, taking rewards to do injury to Greece; but you take no thought to discountenance wrongs done by your own citizens to your own city.

Does anyone say that this inscription has been set up just anywhere? No; although the whole of our citadel is a holy place, and although its area is so large, the inscription stands at the right hand beside the great brazen Athene which was dedicated by the state as a memorial of victory in the Persian war, at the expense of the Greeks. In those days, therefore, justice was so venerable, and the punishment of these crimes so meritorious, that the retribution of such offenders was honored with the same position as Pallas Athene’s own prize of victory. Today we have instead—mockery, impunity, dishonor, unless you restrain the licence of these men.

In my judgement, men of Athens, you will do well, not to emulate your forefathers in some one respect alone, but to follow their conduct step by step. I am sure you have all heard the story of their treatment of Callias, son of Hipponicus, who negotiated the celebrated peace[*](470 B.C., after the battle of Eurymedon.) under which the King of Persia was not to approach within a day’s ride of the coast, nor sail with a ship of war between the Chelidonian islands and the Blue Rocks. At the inquiry into his conduct they came near to putting him to death, and mulcted him in fifty talents, because he was said to have taken bribes on embassy.

Yet no one can cite a more honorable peace made by the city before or since; but that is not what they regarded. They attributed the honorable peace to their own valor and to the high repute of their city, the refusal or acceptance of money to the character of the ambassador; and they expected an honest and incorruptible character in any man who entered the service of the state.

They held the taking of bribes to be too inimical and unprofitable to the state to be tolerated in any transaction or in any person; but you, men of Athens, having before you a peace which at once has pulled down the walls of your allies and is building up the houses of your ambassadors, which robbed the city of her possessions and earned for them wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, instead of putting them to death of your own accord, wait for the appearance of a prosecutor. You are giving them a trial of words with their evil deeds before your eyes.

Yet we need not restrict ourselves to bygone history, or rely upon those ancient precedents in our appeal to retributive justice. Within your own lifetime, in the time of the generation now living, not a few men have been tried and condemned. Passing by other instances, let me recall to your memory one or two men who have been punished by death after an embassy far less mischievous to the city. Please take and read this decree.

(The Decree is read)

By the terms of this decree, men of Athens, you condemned to death the ambassadors named. One of them was Epicrates, who, as I am informed by persons older than myself, was an honest, useful, and popular politician, and one of the men who marched from Peiraeus and restored the democracy.[*](restored the democracy: under Thrasybulus [Dem. 19.280], 403 B.C. (Grote, ch. 65.).) No such consideration availed him; and that was right, for a man who accepts so important a mission is not to be virtuous by halves. He must not use the public confidence he has earned as an opportunity for knavery; his duty is simply to do you no wilful wrong at all.

Well, if the present defendants have omitted any single one of the misdeeds for which those persons were sentenced to death, execute me on the spot. Look at the decree: Whereas the said ambassadors have disobeyed their instructions. That is the first charge alleged. And did not these men disobey their instructions? Did not the decree say, for the Athenians and the Allies of the Athenians, and did not they declare the Phocians to be excluded? Did it not instruct them to swear in the magistrates in the several cities, and did they not swear in only such persons as Philip sent to them? Did not the decree say that they were not to meet Philip alone in any place whatsoever, and did they not continually have private dealings with Philip?

Whereas, says the old decree, certain of them are convicted of making untruthful reports to the Council. Why, these men are convicted of making untruthful reports even to the Assembly. On what evidence?—you remember that brilliant quibble. On the evidence of facts: the report was exactly contradicted by the event. It goes on: and of sending untruthful dispatches. So did they. And of bearing false witness against allies, and of taking bribes. For bearing false witness read utterly destroying—a vastly greater injury. But as to their having taken bribes, we should still, if they denied it, have to make the charge good; but since they admit it, surely there should have been a summary arrest and punishment.[*](By the legal process known as ἀπαγωγή.)

What follows, men of Athens? Such being the facts, will you, the descendants of these men, some of whom are still living, be content that Epicrates, the champion of democracy, the hero of the march from Peiraeus, should have been degraded and punished; that more recently Thrasybulus, a son of Thrasybulus the great democrat, who restored free government from Phyle, should have paid a fine of ten talents that even a descendant of Harmodius and of the greatest of all your benefactors, the men to whom, in requital of their glorious deeds, you have allotted by statute a share of your libations and drink-offerings in every temple and at every public service, whom, in hymns and in worship, you treat as the equals of gods and demigods,—

will you be content that all these men should have been subjected to the inexorable penalty of law; that they should find no succor in mercy or compassion, in weeping children bearing honored names, or in any other plea? And then, when you have in your power a son of Atrometus the dominie, and of Glaucothea, the fuglewoman of those bacchanalian routs for which another priestess[*](According to Ulpian her name was Nino and her crime was mixing a love-potion.) suffered death, will you release the son of such parents, a man who has never been of the slightest use to the commonwealth, neither he, nor his father, nor any member of his precious family?

Has the state ever had to thank any one of them in the whole course of his life for so much as a horse, or a war-galley, or a military expedition, or a chorus, or any public service, assessed contribution, or free gift, or for any deed of valor or any benefit whatsoever? Yet even if he could claim credit for all those services, but could not add that he has been an honest and disinterested ambassador, he ought assuredly to suffer death. If he has neither the one claim nor the other, will you not punish him?

Remember what he told you himself when he prosecuted Timarchus,—that there is no merit in a city that is nerveless in its dealings with malefactors, or in a polity where indulgence and importunity are stronger than the laws. You must not, he said, have any pity for Timarchus’s mother, an aged woman, or his children, or anyone else: you must fix your mind on the thought that, if you desert the laws and the constitution, you will find no one to pity you.

The unfortunate Timarchus is still disfranchised because he was a witness of Aeschines’ misdeeds, and why should you allow Aeschines to go scot-free? If he demanded such severity of retribution from men who had transgressed only against himself and his friends, what retribution are you, a legal jury bound by oath, to exact from men who have grievously transgressed against the commonwealth, and of whom he is proved to be one?

He will say that the trial of Timarchus will improve the morals of our young men. Then this trial will improve the integrity of our statesmen, on whom depend the gravest political hazards; and they also have a claim on your consideration. But let me show you that he did not bring Timarchus to ruin because of his anxious care—Heaven help us! for the modesty of your children. Your children, men of Athens, are already modest; and God forbid that Athens should ever be in such evil case as to require an Aphobetus or an Aeschines to teach young people modesty!