Demosthenes now enters upon an elaborate review of the history of Athens from the beginning of the Phocian war, his own relations thereto, and the charges of Æschines in connection therewith, fortifying his defence with numerous citations from public documents, and boldly arraigning the political principles and policy of his opponent, whom he accuses of being in frequent communication with the emissaries of Philip—"a spy by nature, and an enemy to his country." In the following terms he speaks of his own public services, and reminds Æschines that the people do not forget them:
"Many great and glorious enterprises has the Commonwealth, Æschines, undertaken and succeeded in through me; and she did not forget them. Here is the proof. On the election of a person to speak the funeral oration immediately after the event, you were proposed; but the people would not have you, notwithstanding your fine voice; nor Dema'des, though he had just made the peace; nor He-ge'mon, nor any other of your party—but me. And when you and Pyth'ocles came forward in a brutal and shameful manner (oh, merciful Heaven!) and urged the same accusations against me which you now do, and abused me, they elected me all the more. The reason—you are not ignorant of it, yet I will tell you. The Athenians knew as well the loyalty and zeal with which I conducted their affairs as the dishonesty of you and your party; for what you denied upon oath in our prosperity you confessed in the misfortunes of the republic. They considered, therefore, that men who got security for their politics by the public disasters had been their enemies long before, and were then avowedly such. They thought it right, also, that the person who was to speak in honor of the fallen, and celebrate their valor, should not have sat under the same roof or at the same table with their antagonists; that he should not revel there and sing a pæan over the calamities of Greece in company with their murderers, and then come here and receive distinction; that he should not with his voice act the mourner of their fate, but that he should lament over them with his heart. And such sincerity they found in themselves and me, but not in any of you: therefore they elected me, and not you. Nor, while the people felt thus, did the fathers and brothers of the deceased, who were chosen by the people to perform their obsequies, feel differently. For having to order the funeral (according to custom) at the house of the nearest relative of the deceased, they ordered it at mine —and with reason: because, though each to his own was nearer of kin than I was, no one was so near to them all collectively. He that had the deepest interest in their safety and success must surely feel the deepest sorrow at their unhappy and unmerited misfortune. Read the epitaph inscribed upon their monument by public authority. In this, Æschines, you will find a proof of your absurdity, your malice, your abandoned baseness. Read!
The Epitaph.
"'These are the patriot brave who, side by side,
Stood to their arms and dashed the foeman's pride:
Firm in their valor, prodigal of life,
Hades they chose the arbiter of strife;
That Greeks might ne'er to haughty victors bow,
Nor thraldom's yoke, nor dire oppression know,
They, fought, they bled, and on their country's breast
(Such was the doom of Heaven) these warriors rest:
Gods never lack success, nor strive in vain,
But man must suffer what the Fates ordain.'
"Do you hear, Æschines, in this very inscription, that 'the gods never lack success, nor strive in vain?' Not to the statesman does it ascribe the power of giving victory in battle, but to the gods. But one thing, O Athenians, surprised me more than all—that, when Æschines mentioned the late misfortunes of the country, he felt not as became a well-disposed and upright citizen; he shed no tear, experienced no such emotion: with a loud voice, exulting and straining his throat, he imagined apparently that he was accusing me, while he was giving proof against himself that our distresses touched him not.
"Two things, men of Athens, are characteristic of a well-disposed citizen; so may I speak of myself and give the least offence. In authority his constant aim should be the dignity and pre-eminence of the Commonwealth; in all times and circumstances his spirit should be loyal. This depends upon nature; power and might upon other things. Such a spirit, you will find, I have ever sincerely cherished. Only see! When my person was demanded—when they brought Amphictyonic suits against me—when they menaced—when they promised—when they set these miscreants like wild beasts upon me—never in any way have I abandoned my affection for you. From the very beginning I chose an honest and straightforward course in politics, to support the honor, the power, the glory of my fatherland; these to exalt, in these to have my being. I do not walk about the market-place gay and cheerful because the stranger has prospered, holding out my right hand and congratulating those who I think will report it yonder, and on any news of our own success shudder and groan and stoop to the earth like these impious men who rail at Athens, as if in so doing they did not rail at themselves; who look abroad, and if the foreigner thrives by the distresses of Greece, are thankful for it, and say we should keep him so thriving to all time.
"Never, O ye gods, may those wishes be confirmed by you! If possible, inspire even in these men a better sense and feeling! But if they are indeed incurable, destroy them by themselves; exterminate them on land and sea; and for the rest of us, grant that we may speedily be released from our present fears, and enjoy a lasting deliverance." [Footnote: Lord Brougham says that "the music of this closing passage (in the original) is almost as fine as the sense is impressive and grand, and the manner dignified and calm," and he admits the difficulty of preserving this in a translation. His own translation of the passage is as follows: "Let not, O gracious God, let not such conduct receive any measure of sanction from thee! Rather plant even in these men a better spirit and better feelings! But if they are wholly incurable, then pursue them, yea, themselves by themselves, to utter and untimely perdition, by land and by sea; and to us who are spared, vouchsafe to grant the speediest rescue from our impending alarms, and an unshaken security.">[
—Trans. by CHARLES RANN KENNEDY.
Æschines lost his case, and, not having obtained a fifth part of the votes, became himself liable to a penalty, and soon left the country in disgrace.
II. THE WARS THAT FOLLOWED ALEXANDER'S DEATH.
When the intelligence of Alexander's death reached Greece the country was already on the eve of a revolution against Antip'ater. Athens found little difficulty in uniting several of the states with herself in a confederacy against him, and met with some successes in what is known as the La'mian war. But the movement was short-lived, as Antipater completely annihilated the confederate army in the battle of Cran'non (322 B.C.). Athens was directed to abolish her democratic form of government, pay the expenses of the war, and surrender a number of her most famous men, including Demosthenes. The latter, however, escaped from Athens, and sought refuge in the Temple of Poseidon, in the island of Calaure'a. Here he took poison, and expired as he was being led from the temple by a satellite of Antipater.