Against Aristocrates

In the next place, men of Athens, I would like to relate a piece of history, which will make it still more evident to you that it is your bounden duty to abrogate this decree. Once upon a time, on a certain occasion, you gave your citizenship to Ariobarzanes,[*](Satrap of Phrygia. The date is some time between 368 and 362.) and also, on his account, to Philiscus,—just as you have recently given it to Charidemus for the sake of Cersobleptes. Philiscus, who resembled Charidemus in his choice of a career, began to use the power of Ariobarzanes by occupying Hellenic cities. He entered them and committed many outrages, mutilating free-born boys, insulting women, and behaving in general as you would expect a man, who had been brought up where there were no laws, and none of the advantages of a free constitution, to behave if he attained to power.

Now there were two men in Lampsacus, one named Thersagoras and the other Execestus, who had formed views about tyranny very much like those that prevail here. These men put Philiscus to death, as he deserved, because they felt it their duty to liberate their own fatherland. Now suppose that one of those orators who spoke on behalf of Philiscus, at a time when he was paymaster of the mercenaries at Perinthus, when he held all the Hellespont, and was the most powerful of viceroys, had then, like Aristocrates today, moved a resolution that whosoever killed Philiscus should be liable to seizure in allied territory. I entreat you to reflect upon the depth of ignominy to which our city would have fallen.

Thersagoras and Execestus came to Lesbos and lived there. Well, if any son or any friend of Philiscus had laid hands on them, they would have been given up to justice in pursuance of your decree; and assuredly you would have been guilty of a shameful and a scandalous act if, while ostentatiously setting up bronze statues of the men who performed a similar feat in your own city, and loading them with unparalleled honors, you had condemned to outlawry those who in some other country had exhibited the selfsame spirit of patriotism. I am glad to say that, in the case of Philiscus, it was not your fate to be ensnared and to incur that great dishonor; but in the present case, if you will heed my warning, you will be very careful; for, if there is no limiting clause and if the phrase whosoever shall kill Charidemus is unqualified, it is quite possible that the outcome will be such as I have described.

My next purpose is briefly to examine the past history of Charidemus, and to unmask the extraordinary audacity of his flatterers. I pledge myself simply to this,—and I hope no one will take my pledge in bad part,—that I will satisfy you, not only that he is unworthy of the protection proposed by the defendant, but that he deserves to be most severely punished, if chastisement is justly due to those who wish you ill, and cheat you, and are always trying to thwart you.

I dare say that some of you, reflecting that the fellow has first been made a citizen, and thereafter has been decorated with crowns of gold, are astonished that it has been such an easy task to delude you so completely. Well, you may be quite sure, men of Athens, that you have been deluded; and I will explain why such a result was to be expected. You have plenty of good judgement; but you do not apply it persistently.

I mean this, for instance: suppose you were asked which you regard as the most unprincipled breed of citizens you have; you would not name the farmers, or the traders, or the silver-miners, or any class like those, but if any one named the people who make speeches and move resolutions for hire, I am sure that your assent would be unanimous. So far your judgement is excellent; but it is no longer sound in the sequel.

For it is on the very people whom you regard as most unprincipled that you rely for a right opinion of a man’s character and they describe this or that man as virtuous or wicked, not when the description is honest and true, but when it brings money into their own pockets. And that is what the orators have constantly done in respect of Charidemus, as you will agree when I have given you an account of his past career.

I do not reckon among his misdeeds those campaigns of his early life, in which he served against Athens as a slinger or light-infantry man; nor that he once owned a piratical ship and preyed on your allies. But I pass these things by. And for what reason? Because, gentlemen, hard necessity does away with all consideration of what anyone should or should not do; and therefore in such matters a candid examiner must not be too fastidious. But let me tell you of the mischief he did to you at the outset of his career as a mercenary officer with troops under his command.

First of all, he was hired by Iphicrates, and drew pay in his army for more than three years. When you had cashiered Iphicrates, and dispatched Timotheus as commander-in-chief to Amphipolis and the Chersonesus, the man’s first performance was to surrender to the Amphipolitans those hostages of theirs whom Iphicrates had taken from Harpalus, and put under his care, although you had ordered them to be conveyed to Athens. That act prevented you from occupying Amphipolis. Secondly, when Timotheus in his turn wanted to hire him and his troops, he refused the engagement, and repaired by sea to Cotys, taking with him your light galleys, though he was perfectly well aware that Cotys was the most bitter enemy you had in the world.

Subsequently, after the decision of Timotheus to take the operations against Amphipolis before those against the Chersonesus, finding that there was no mischief he could do you in that country, he again hired himself out,—this time to the Olynthians, who were your enemies and were then holding Amphipolis. He set sail from Cardia for Amphipolis, with the intention of fighting against Athens, but on the voyage he was captured by our fleet. But in view of the needs of the hour, and because mercenaries were wanted for the war against Amphipolis, instead of being punished for his refusal to deliver the hostages, and for deserting with the light galleys to your enemy Cotys, guarantees were exchanged, and he entered the campaign as your auxiliary.

He ought to have been grateful to you because his life was spared when he might justly have been put to death; but instead of that the city, as though she owed gratitude to him, has bestowed upon him crowns and franchise and favours known to you all.—To prove the truth of these allegations, please read the decree respecting the hostages, the dispatch of Iphicrates, the dispatch of Timotheus, and lastly this deposition.—You will find that what I am telling you is not mere gossip and recrimination, but the plain truth.—Read.

(The Decree, the Dispatches, and the Deposition are read.)

You have heard the evidence of the dispatch and the deposition, proving that at the outset Charidemus sold his services to a country where he expected to fight against you, though he had the choice of many other markets; that later, finding that in that country he could do you no harm, he sailed back to a place where he had a chance of operating against Athens; and that he was the chief cause of your failure to take Amphipolis. Such were the early exploits of Charidemus. You must now look at his later conduct.

After a certain lapse of time, when the war with Cotys had already broken out, he sent a letter to you; or rather, not to you but to Cephisodotus, for, being conscious of his transgressions, he was very much of the opinion that the beguilement of Athens was a task beyond his own powers. In this letter he undertook to recover the Chersonesus for Athens; but his real intention was exactly the opposite. You must be informed of the nature of this epistolary transaction,—it is not a long story—and so get an insight into the fashion of this man’s dealings with you from first to last.

Being at that time discharged from the service of Timotheus, he withdrew from Amphipolis, crossed the straits to Asia, and there, because of the recent arrest of Artabazus by Autophradates, he hired out his forces and himself to the sons-in-law of Artabazus. He had taken and given pledges, but he ignored and broke his oaths, and, finding the inhabitants of the country, who thought they were dealing with a friend, off their guard, he seized their towns, Scepsis, Cebren, and Ilium.

Having taken possession of these strongholds, he had a misadventure into which even an ordinary person, not to say a man calling himself a commander, could never have blundered. Although he held no position on the sea-coast, and had no means of supplying his troops with provisions, and although he had no food in the towns, he remained within the walls, instead of looting the towns and making off in pursuance of his intention to do mischief. But Artabazus, having been released by Autophradates, collected an army, and appeared on the scene; and he could draw supplies from the friendly countries of upper Phrygia, Lydia, and Paphlagonia, while for Charidemus nothing remained but to stand a siege.

When he realized what trouble he was in, and came to the conclusion that he would be reduced by famine, if by no other means, he made the discovery, whether by suggestion or by his own wits, that his only chance of salvation lay where there is salvation for everybody. And where is that? In your good-nature, if that is the right term, men of Athens,—or call it what you will. Having reached that conclusion, he dispatched the letter to you,—and it is worth your while to hear it read. His desire was, by means of a promise to recover the Chersonesus for you, and on the pretence that such was also the wish of Cephisodotus, as an enemy of Cotys and Iphicrates, to get a supply of galleys from you, and so scuttle safely out of Asia.

Do you remember the immediate sequel, by which the trick was exposed in the very act? Memnon and Mentor, the sons-in-law of Artabazus, were young men, enjoying unexpected good fortune by their relationship to Artabazus. What they wanted was to govern the country peaceably without delay, and to win distinction without warfare and peril. Accordingly, they persuaded Artabazus to forgo his vengeance upon Charidemus, and to send him off under an armistice, advising him that you would bring Charidemus across with or without his consent: he could not possibly stop you.

Having gained this unaccountable and unforeseen deliverance, Charidemus crossed the sea to the Chersonesus without your authority by reason of the armistice; but then, so far from attacking Cotys,—although he had told you in his letter that Cotys would not repel his attack,—and so far from helping you to recover the Chersonesus, he entered the service of Cotys once more, and began to beleaguer your last remaining strongholds, Crithote and Elaeus. You will find proof in his route across the straits that he had already decided on this action at the time when he was in Asia and was sending you the letter, and therefore that he was cheating you; for he crossed from Abydus, a place always hostile to you, and the base from which Sestus was captured, to Sestus, which was in the possession of Cotys.

Yet you must not imagine that either the Abydenes or the people at Sestus would have admitted him, after that letter had been sent to you, if they had not been aware that he was cheating you, or if they had not been actually parties to the deception. They wanted you to provide a safe passage for the troops, and then, after the passage, to get the use of them for their own purposes; as in fact they did, when Artabazus had granted a safe-conduct.—To prove that such are the facts read the letters,—I mean the letter sent by Charidemus, and those that came from the authorities in the Chersonesus.—You will learn from them that the facts are so.—Read.

(A Letter is read.)

Observe from and to what points he crossed the straits; it was from Abydus to Sestus. Do you suppose that the Abydenes and the Sestians would have admitted him, if they had not been privy to his fraud, when he sent you that letter?—Now read to the jury the letter itself.—Observe, men of Athens, with what extravagance of self-commendation he wrote to you, telling you he had done this, and undertaking to do that.—Read.

(The Letter is read.)