Against Aristogeiton I

What help, then, remains for him, Athenians? The help, I suppose, that comes to all defendants alike from the natural temper of the jury, the help that no man on his trial provides for himself, but that each of you brings with him from home to the court—I mean pity, pardon, benevolence. But of such help religion and justice alike demand that this unclean wretch should receive no share. Why? Because whatever law each man’s nature prompts him to apply to his neighbors, that law it is only fair that they should apply to him.

What law do you think Aristogeiton applies to all other men, and what are his wishes concerning them? Does he wish to see them enjoying prosperity, happiness and good fame? If so, what becomes of his livelihood? For he thrives on the misfortunes of others. Therefore he likes to see everyone involved in trials, lawsuits and vile charges. That is the crop he sows; that is the trade he plies. Men of Athens, what sort of man deserves to be called the complete villain, the thrice-accursed, the common foe, the universal enemy, against whom one prays that the earth may neither yield him fruit nor receive him after death? Is it not such a man as this? That is my opinion.

What pardon, what pity did the victims of his blackmail obtain from him, the men whose execution he was always demanding in your courts—yes, even before the first verdict was decided?[*](The jury voted first on the question of guilty or not guilty, and secondly on the penalty, if guilty.) Those against whom this wretch showed such cruelty and bitterness were saved from death by the righteous conduct of those of you who had been allotted to try their case, who acquitted the men he was falsely accusing and withheld from him the necessary fifth part of the votes.

But his bitterness, cruelty and blood-thirstiness were displayed and proved. The sight of the children of some of the defendants and their aged mothers standing in court did not move him to pity? And do you, Aristogeiton, look for pardon? Whence? From whom? Are your children to be pitied? Far from it. You have yourself thrown away their right to pity; nay, you have destroyed it once for all. Do not then seek anchorage in harbors that you have yourself blocked up and filled with stakes; for that is unfair.

If you heard the slanderous language that he used against you, as he paraded the market-place, you would hate him even more than you do, and with justice. For he says there are many men in debt to the treasury, and all of them in the same case as himself. I admit that these unfortunate men are many, though there are but a couple of them; for every state-debtor is one too many,[*](Lit. They are more by everyone than is right.) and no others ought to be in debt to the State. But I solemnly swear that their case is not the same as the defendant’s, nor anything like it, but quite the contrary. Look at it in this way.

And do not imagine, Athenians, that I am debating the point with you, as if you were debtors to the treasury. That is not so, and I hope it never may be; it is no idea of mine. But if any of you has a friend or acquaintance among the debtors, I propose to show you that for that friend’s sake he ought to hate the defendant.

My first reason is that honest folk, who are hampered by security for others and kind offices and private debts involving no wrong to the State, but who happen to have been unlucky, are placed by him in the same infamous category as himself, contrary to what is right and fitting.

When you, Aristogeiton, were convicted of a breach of the constitution for having moved that three citizens should be executed without trial, and you escaped with a fine, though you ought to have suffered the extreme penalty, there is no parallel, not the slightest, between your case and that of a man who has gone bail for a friend and then finds himself unable to pay an unexpected fine. My second reason is that the bond of mutual kindness, which you yourselves naturally preserve towards one another, is broken and destroyed by Aristogeiton, as far as in him lies. You will understand this from what I am going to say. For you, Athenians, observing what I have called the natural bond of mutual kindness, live as a corporate body in this city just as families live in their private homes.

How then do such families live? Where there is a father and grown-up sons and possibly also grandchildren, there are bound to be many divergent wishes; for youth and age do not talk or act in the same way. Nevertheless whatever the young men do, if they are modest, they do in such a way as to avoid notice; or if this is impossible, at any rate they make it that such was their intention. The elders in their turn, if they see any lack of moderation in spending or drinking or amusement, manage to see it without showing that they have seen it. The result is that everything that their various natures suggest is done, and done satisfactorily.

And that is just how you, men of Athens, live in this community on humane and brotherly principles, one class watching the proceedings of the unfortunate in such a way that, as the saying runs, seeing, they see not; hearing, do not hear; while the others by their behavior show that they are both on their guard and alive to a sense of shame. Hence it is that that general harmony, which is the source of all our blessings, is firmly established in our city.

Those feelings, so happily implanted in your nature and your habits, Aristogeiton would change and remove and overturn. What every other citizen does with as little noise as possible, he performs, one might almost say, with a peal of bells hung about his neck. Neither the president nor the crier nor the chairman nor the tribe on duty can control him.

So when any of you, annoyed at his outrageous conduct, cries, To think that he should act like this, and he a debtor to the treasury! the reply is, What! Is not So-and-so a debtor too?—each man suggesting his personal enemy. Thus his wickedness is the cause of the scandals which are circulated about men who do not resemble him.

Therefore the one thing left, men of Athens, for those who wish to get rid of this man, now that they can charge him with a clear and manifest offence against the laws, is, if possible, to punish him with death, or, if not, to impose such a money fine as he will not be able to pay. For depend upon it, there is no other way to be rid of him.

Among other men, Athenians, you may see the best and most respectable ready at the prompting of nature to do what is right; those who are worse men, but are not classed as the very bad, are careful of offending, because they are afraid of you and are sensitive to disgrace and reproach; the utterly wicked, the moral lepers, as we call them, are said to be taught wisdom only by suffering.

Now here is Aristogeiton, who has so far outstripped all men in wickedness that his punishments have not disciplined him and he is once more detected in the same illegal and rapacious acts. Also he is the more deserving of your anger now than before, inasmuch as previously it was only by moving decrees that he ventured to transgress the laws, but now he transgresses them in every possible way—by accusations, by public speeches, by calumnies, by demanding the death penalty, by impeaching and maligning the fully qualified citizens, when he himself is a state-debtor. For nothing is more abominable than that.

Surely, then, to admonish such a fellow is madness. A man who never yielded or shrank before the storm of protest with which the whole Assembly admonishes those who offend it, would readily heed the protest of an individual! His case is incurable, men of Athens, quite incurable. Just as physicians, when they detect a cancer or an ulcer or some other incurable growth, cauterize it or cut it away, so you ought all to unite in exterminating this monster. Cast him out of your city; destroy him. Take your precautions in time and do not wait for the evil consequences, which I pray may never fall either on individuals or on the community.

Let me put it in this way. Perhaps none of you has ever been bitten by an adder or a tarantula, and I hope he never may be. All the same, whenever you see such creatures, you promptly kill them all. In just the same way, men of Athens, whenever you see a false accuser, a man with the venom of a viper in his nature, do not wait for him to bite one of you, but always let the man who comes across him exact punishment.

Lycurgus did well to call Athena and the Mother of the gods to witness. But I will invoke your ancestors and the virtues of your ancestors, whose memory time has not effaced. It is right that I should do so; for their policy was not to lend themselves to cooperation with the worst of rascals and false accusers, not to foster the mutual jealousy that lurks within doors, but to honor those public and private men who were wise and good, and to loathe and chastise those who were wicked and unscrupulous; and that was how they all became competitors in the rivalry of noble deeds.

One more thing I have to say before I sit down. You will soon be leaving this court-house, and you will be watched by the bystanders, both aliens and citizens; they will scan each one as he appears, and detect by their looks those who have voted for acquittal. What will you have to say for yourselves, Athenians, if you emerge after betraying the laws? With what expression, with what look will you return their gaze?

How will you make your way to the Sanctuary of the Mother-goddess,[*](Where copies of all Athenian laws were deposited for reference.) if you wish to do so? For surely you will never go individually to consult the laws as if they were still valid, unless you have now collectively confirmed them before you depart. How on the first of each month will you climb the Acropolis and pray for blessings on the State and on yourselves, when the defendant and his worthy father are registered there,[*](See Dem. 25.4.) and you have given your verdict clean against your oaths and the documents there preserved?

Or what will you say, Athenians, what will you say, if someone detects and questions those of you who have voted for acquittal? What will you answer? That you were satisfied with him? But who will dare to say that? Who will choose to inherit this fellow’s wickedness, with the execration and infamy that it entails? Will each of you deny that he acquitted him? In that case you will have to invoke a curse on the acquitters, as a guarantee from each of you that he was not himself one of them.