                                      75 AD
                                    PHOCION
                                 402?-317 B.C.
                                  by Plutarch
                           translated by John Dryden
PHOCION

  DEMADES, the orator, when in the height of the power which he
obtained at Athens, by advising the state in the interest of Antipater
and the Macedonians, being necessitated to write and speak many things
below the dignity, and contrary to the character, of the city, was
wont to excuse himself by saying he steered only the shipwrecks of the
commonwealth. This hardy saying of his might have some appearance of
truth, if applied to Phocion's government. For Demades, indeed, was
himself the mere wreck of his country, living and ruling so
dissolutely, that Antipater took occasion to say of him, when he was
now grown old, that he was like a sacrificed beast, all consumed
except the tongue and the belly. But Phocion's was a real virtue, only
overmatched in the unequal contest with an adverse time, and rendered,
by the ill fortunes of Greece, inglorious and obscure. We must not,
indeed, allow ourselves to concur with Sophocles in so far diminishing
the force of virtue as to say that-

         "When fortune fails, the sense we had before
          Deserts us also, and is ours no more."

Yet thus much, indeed, must be allowed to happen in the conflicts
between good men and ill fortune, that instead of due returns of
honour and gratitude, obloquy and unjust surmises may often prevail,
to weaken, in a considerable degree, the credit of their virtue.
  It is commonly said that public bodies are most insulting and
contumelious to a good man, when they are puffed up with prosperity
and success. But the contrary often happens; afflictions and public
calamities naturally embittering and souring the minds and tempers
of men, and disposing them to such peevishness and irritability that
hardly any word or sentiment of common vigour can be addressed to
them, but they will be apt to take offence. He that remonstrates
with them on their errors is presumed to be insulting over their
misfortunes, and any free-spoken expostulation is construed into
contempt. Honey itself is searching in sore and ulcerated parts; and
the wisest and most judicious counsels prove provoking to
distempered minds, unless offered with those soothing and compliant
approaches which made the poet, for instance, characterize agreeable
things in general by a word expressive of a grateful and easy touch,
exciting nothing of offence or resistance. Inflamed eyes require a
retreat into dusky places, amongst colours of the deepest shades,
and are unable to endure the brilliancy of light. So fares it in the
body politic, in times of distress and humiliation; a certain
sensitiveness and soreness of humour prevail, with a weak incapacity
of enduring any free and open advice, even when the necessity of
affairs most requires such plain dealing, and when the consequences of
any single error may be beyond retrieving. At such times the conduct
of public affairs is on all hands most hazardous. Those who humour the
people are swallowed up in the common ruin; those who endeavour to
lead them aright perish the first in their attempt.
  Astronomers tell us, the sun's motion is neither exactly parallel
with that of the heavens in general, nor yet directly and
diametrically opposite, but describing an oblique line, with
insensible declination he steers his course in such a gentle, easy
curve, as to dispense his light and influence, in his annual
revolution, at several seasons in just proportions to the whole
creation. So it happens in political affairs; if the motions of rulers
be constantly opposite and cross to the tempers and inclinations of
the people, they will be resented as arbitrary and harsh; as, on the
other side, too much deference, or encouragement, as too often it
has been, to popular faults and errors, is full of danger and
ruinous consequences. But where concession is the response to
willing obedience, and a statesman gratifies his people, that he may
the more imperatively recall them to a sense of the common interest,
then, indeed, human beings, who are ready enough to serve well and
submit to much, if they are not always ordered about and roughly
handled, like slaves, may be said to be guided and governed upon the
method that leads to safety. Though it must be confessed it is a
nice point, and extremely difficult, so to temper this lenity as to
preserve the authority of the government. But if such a blessed
mixture and temperament may be obtained, it seems to be of all
concords and harmonies the most concordant and most harmonious. For
thus we are taught even God governs the world, not by irresistible
force, but persuasive argument and reason, controlling it into
compliance with his eternal purposes.
  Cato the younger is a similar instance. His manners were little
agreeable or acceptable to the people, and he received very slender
marks of their favour; witness his repulse when he sued for the
consulship, which he lost, as Cicero says, for acting rather like a
citizen in Plato's commonwealth, than among the dregs of Romulus's
posterity, the same thing happening to him, in my opinion, as we
observe in fruits ripe before their season, which we rather take
pleasure in looking at and admiring than actually use; so much was his
old-fashioned virtue out of the present mode, among the depraved
customs which time and luxury had introduced, that it appeared,
indeed, remarkable and wonderful, but was too great and too good to
suit the present exigencies, being so out of all proportion to the
times. Yet his circumstances were not altogether like Phocion's, who
came to the helm when the ship of the state was just upon sinking.
Cato's time was, indeed, stormy and tempestuous, yet so, as he was
able to assist in managing the sails, and lend his helping hand to
those who, which he was not allowed to do, commanded at the helm,
others were to blame for the result; yet his courage and virtue made
it in spite of all a hard task for fortune to ruin the commonwealth,
and it was only with long time and effort and by slow degrees, when he
himself had all but succeeded in averting it, that the catastrophe was
at last effected.
  Phocion and he may be well compared together, not for any mere
general resemblances, as though we should say both were good men and
great statesmen. For, assuredly, there is difference enough among
virtues of the same denomination, as between the bravery of Alcibiades
and that of Epaminondas, the prudence of Themistocles and that of
Aristides, the justice of Numa and that of Agesilaus. But these
men's virtue, even looking to the most minute points of difference,
bear the same colour, stamp, and character impressed upon them, so
as not to be distinguishable. The mixture is still made in the same
exact proportions whether we look at the combination to be found in
them, both of lenity on the one hand, with austerity on the other;
their boldness upon some occasions, and caution on others; their
extreme solicitude for the public, and perfect neglect of
themselves; their fixed and immovable bent to all virtuous and
honest actions, accompanied with an extreme tenderness and
scrupulosity as to doing anything which might appear mean or unworthy;
so that we should need a very nice and subtle logic of
discrimination to detect and establish the distinctions between them.
  As to Cato's extraction, it is confessed by all to have been
illustrious, as will be said hereafter, nor was Phocion's, I feel
assured, obscure or ignoble. For had he been the son of a turner, as
Idomeneus reports, it had certainly not been forgotten to his
disparagement by Glaucippus, the son of Hyperides, when heaping up a
thousand spiteful things to say against him. Nor, indeed, had it
been possible for him, in such circumstances, to have had such a
liberal breeding and education in his youth, as to be first Plato's
and afterwards Xenocrates's scholar in the Academy, and to have
devoted himself from the first to the pursuit of the noblest studies
and practices. His countenance was so composed that scarcely was he
ever seen by any Athenian either laughing or in tears. He was rarely
known, so Duris has recorded, to appear in the public baths, or was
observed with his hand exposed outside his cloak, when he wore one.
Abroad, and in the camp, he was so hardy in going always thin clad and
barefoot, except in a time of excessive and intolerable cold, that the
soldiers used to say in merriment, that it was like to be a hard
winter when Phocion wore his coat.
  Although he was most gentle and humane in his disposition, his
aspect was stern and forbidding, so that he was seldom accosted
alone by any who were not intimate with him. When Chares once made
some remark on his frowning looks, and the Athenians laughed at the
jest, "My sullenness," said Phocion, "never yet made any of you sad,
but these men's jollities have given you sorrow enough." In like
manner Phocion's language, also, was full of instruction, abounding in
happy maxims and wise thoughts, but admitted no embellishment to its
austere and commanding brevity. Zeno said a philosopher should never
speak till his words had been steeped in meaning; and such, it may
be said, were Phocion's, crowding the greatest amount of
significance into the smallest allowance of space. And to this,
probably, Polyeuctus, the Sphettian, referred, when he said that
Demosthenes was, indeed, the best orator of his time, but Phocion
the most powerful speaker. His oratory, like small coin of great
value, was to be estimated, not by its bulk, but its intrinsic
worth. He was once observed, it is said, when the theatre was
filling with the audience, to walk musing alone behind the scenes,
which one of his friends taking notice of said, "Phocion, you seem
to be thoughtful." "Yes," replied he, "I am considering how I may
shorten what I am going to say to the Athenians." Even Demosthenes
himself, who used to despise the rest of the haranguers, when
Phocion stood up, was wont to say quietly to those about him, "Here is
the pruning-knife of my periods." This, however, might refer, perhaps,
not so much to his eloquence as to the influence of his character,
since not only a word, but even a nod from a person who is esteemed,
is of more force than a thousand arguments or studied sentences from
others.
  In his youth he followed Chabrias, the general, from whom he
gained many lessons in military knowledge, and in return did something
to correct his unequal and capricious humour. For whereas at other
times Chabrias was heavy and phlegmatic, in the heat of battle he used
to be so fired and transported that he threw himself headlong into
danger beyond the forwardest, which indeed, in the end, cost him his
life in the island of Chios, he having pressed his own ship foremost
to force a landing. But Phocion, being a man of temper as well as
courage, had the dexterity at some times to rouse the general, when in
his procrastinating mood, to action, and at others to moderate and
cool the impetuousness of his unseasonable fury. Upon which account
Chabrias, who was a good-natured, kindly-tempered man, loved him much,
and procured him commands and opportunities for action, giving him
means to make himself known in Greece, and using his assistance in all
his affairs of moment. Particularly the sea-fight of Naxos added not a
little to Phocion's reputation, when he had the left squadron
committed to him by Chabrias, as in this quarter the battle was
sharply contested, and was decided by a speedy victory. And this being
the first prosperous sea-battle the city had engaged in with its own
force since its captivity, Chabrias won great popularity by it, and
Phocion, also, got the reputation of a good commander. The victory was
gained at the time of the Great Mysteries, and Chabrias used to keep
the commemoration of it by distributing wine among the Athenians,
yearly, on the sixteenth day of Boedromion.
  After this, Chabrias sent Phocion to demand their quota of the
charges of the war from the islanders, and offered him a guard of
twenty ships. Phocion told him, if he intended him to go against
them as enemies, that force was insignificant; if as to friends and
allies, one vessel was sufficient. So he took his own single galley,
and having visited the cities, and treated with the magistrates in
an equitable and open manner, he brought back a number of ships,
sent by the confederates to Athens, to convey the supplies. Neither
did his friendship and attention close with Chabrias's life, but after
his decease he carefully maintained it to all that were related to
him, and chiefly to his son, Ctesippus, whom he laboured to bring to
some good, and although he was a stupid and intractable young
fellow, always endeavoured, so far as in him lay, to correct and cover
his faults and follies. Once, however, when the youngster was very
impertinent and troublesome to him in the camp, interrupting him
with idle questions, and putting forward his opinions and
suggestions of how the war should be conducted, he could not forbear
exclaiming, "O Chabrias, Chabrias, how grateful I show myself for your
friendship, in submitting to endure your son!"
  Upon looking into public matters, and the way in which they were now
conducted, he observed that the administration of affairs was cut
and parcelled out, like so much land by allotment, between the
military men and the public speakers, so that neither these nor
those should interfere with the claims of the others. As the one
were to address the assemblies, to draw up votes and prepare
motions, men, for example, like Eubulus, Aristophon, Demosthenes,
Lycurgus, and Hyperides, and were to push their interests here; so, in
the meantime, Liopithes, Menestheus, Leosthenes, and Chares were to
make their profit by war and in military commands. Phocion, on the
other hand, was desirous to restore and carry out the old system, more
complete in itself, and more harmonious and uniform, which prevailed
in the times of Pericles, Aristides, and Solon; when statesmen
showed themselves, to use Archilochus's words-

         "Mars' and the Muses' friends alike designed,
          To arts and arms indifferently inclined."

and the presiding goddess of his country was, he did not fail to
see, the patroness and protectress of both civil and military
wisdom. With these views, while his advice at home was always for
peace and quietness, he nevertheless held the office of general more
frequently than any of the statesmen, not only of his own times, but
of those preceding, never, indeed, promoting or encouraging military
expeditions, yet never, on the other hand, shunning or declining, when
he was called upon by the public voice. Thus much is well known,
that he was no less than forty-five several times chosen general, he
being never on any one of those occasions present at the election, but
having the command, in his absence, by common suffrage, conferred on
him, and he sent for on purpose to undertake it. Insomuch that it
amazed those who did not well consider to see the people always prefer
Phocion, who was so far from humouring them or courting their
favour, that be always thwarted and opposed them. But so it was, as
great men and princes are said to call in their flatterers when dinner
has been served, so the Athenians, upon slight occasions,
entertained and diverted themselves with their spruce speakers and
trim orators, but when it came to action, they were sober and
considerate enough to single out the austerest and wisest for public
employment, however much he might be opposed to their wishes and
sentiments. This, indeed, he made no scruple to admit, when the oracle
from Delphi was read, which informed them that the Athenians were
all of one mind, a single dissentient only excepted, frankly coming
forward and declaring that they need look no further; he was the
man; there was no one but he who was dissatisfied with everything they
did. And when once he gave his opinion to the people, and was met with
the general approbation and applause of the assembly, turning to
some of his friends, he asked them, "Have I inadvertently said
something foolish?"
  Upon occasion of a public festivity, being solicited for his
contribution by the example of others, and the people pressing him
much, he bade them apply themselves to the wealthy; for his part he
should blush to make a present here, rather than a repayment there,
turning and pointing to Callicles, the money-lender. Being still
clamoured upon and importuned, he told them this tale. A certain
cowardly fellow setting out for the wars, hearing the ravens croak
in his passage, threw down his arms, resolving to wait. Presently he
took them and ventured out again, but hearing the same music, once
more made a stop. "For," said he "you may croak until you are tired,
but you shall make no dinner upon me."
  The Athenians urging him at an unseasonable time to lead them out
against the enemy, he peremptorily refused, and being upbraided by
them with cowardice and pusillanimity, he told them, "Just now, do
what you will, I shall not be brave; and do what I will, you will
not be cowards. Nevertheless, we know well enough what we are." And
when again, in a time of great danger, the people were very harsh upon
him, demanding a strict account how the public money had been
employed, and the like, he bade them, "First, good friends, make
sure you are safe." After a war, during which they had been very
tractable and timorous, when, upon peace being made, they began
again to be confident and overbearing, and to cry out upon Phocion, as
having lost them the honour of victory, to all their clamour he made
only this answer, "My friends, you are fortunate in having a leader
who knows you; otherwise, you had long since been undone."
  Having a controversy with the Boeotians about boundaries, which he
counselled them to decide by negotiation, they inclined to blows. "You
had better," said he, "carry on the contest with the weapons in
which you excel (your tongues), and not by war, in which you are
inferior." Once when he was addressing them, and they would not hear
him or let him go on, said he, "You may compel me to act against my
wishes, but you shall never force me to speak against my judgment."
Among the many public speakers who opposed him, Demosthenes, for
example, once told him, "The Athenians, Phocion, will kill you some
day when they once are in a rage." "And you," said he, "if they once
are in their senses." Polyeuctus, the Sphettian, once on a hot day was
urging war with Philip, and being a corpulent man, and out of breath
and in a great heat with speaking, took numerous draughts of water
as he went on. "Here, indeed," said Phocion, "is a fit man to lead
us into a war! What think you he will do when he is carrying his
corselet and his shield to meet the enemy, if even here, delivering
a prepared speech to you, has almost killed him with exhaustion?" When
Lycurgus in the assembly made many reflections on his past conduct,
upbraiding him above all for having advised them to deliver up the ten
citizens whom Alexander had demanded, he replied that he had been
the author of much safe and wholesome counsel, which had not been
followed.
  There was a man called Archibiades, nicknamed the Lacedaemonian, who
used to go about with a huge, over-grown beard, wearing an old
threadbare cloak, and affecting a very stern countenance. Phocion
once, when attacked in council by the rest, appealed to this man for
his support and testimony. And when he got up and began to speak on
the popular side, putting his hand to his beard, "O Archibiades," said
he, "it is time you should shave." Aristogiton, a common accuser,
was a terrible man of war within the assembly, always inflaming the
people to battle, but when the muster-roll came to be produced, he
appeared limping on a crutch, with a bandage on his leg; Phocion
descried him afar off, coming in, and cried out to the clerk, "Put
down Aristogiton, too, as lame and worthless."
  So that it is a little wonderful, how a man so severe and harsh upon
all occasions should, notwithstanding, obtain the name of the Good.
Yet, though difficult, it is not, I suppose, impossible for men's
tempers, any more than for wines, to be at the same time harsh and
agreeable to the taste; just as on the other hand many that are
sweet at the first taste are found, on further use, extremely
disagreeable and unwholesome. Hyperides, we are told, once said to the
people, "Do not ask yourselves, men of Athens, whether or not I am
bitter, but whether or not I am paid for being so," as though a
covetous purpose were the only thing that should make a harsh temper
insupportable, and as if men might not even more justly render
themselves obnoxious to popular dislike and censure, by using their
power and influence in the indulgence of their own private passions of
pride and jealousy, anger and animosity. Phocion never allowed himself
from any feeling of personal hostility to do hurt to any
fellow-citizen, nor, indeed, reputed any man his enemy, except so
far as he could not but contend sharply with such as opposed the
measures he urged for the public good; in which argument he was,
indeed, a rude, obstinate, and uncompromising adversary. For his
general conversation, it was easy, courteous, and obliging to all,
to that point that he would befriend his very opponents in their
distress, and espouse the cause of those who differed most from him,
when they needed his patronage. His friends reproaching him for
pleading in behalf of a man of indifferent character, he told them the
innocent had no need of an advocate. Aristogiton, the sycophant,
whom we mentioned before, having, after sentence passed upon him, sent
earnestly to Phocion to speak with him in the prison, his friends
dissuaded him from going; "Nay, by your favour," said he, "where
should I rather choose to pay Aristogiton a visit?"
  As for the allies of the Athenians, and the islanders, whenever
any admiral besides Phocion was sent, they treated him as an enemy
suspect, barricaded their gates, blocked up their havens, brought in
from the country their cattle, slaves, wives, and children, and put
them in garrison; but upon Phocion's arrival, they went out to welcome
him in their private boats and barges, with streamers and garlands,
and received him at landing with every demonstration of joy and
pleasure.
  When King Philip was effecting his entry into Euboea, and was
bringing over troops from Macedonia, and making himself master of
the cities, by means of the tyrants who ruled in them, Plutarch of
Eretria sent to request aid of the Athenians for the relief of the
island, which was in imminent danger of falling wholly into the
hands of the Macedonians. Phocion was sent thither with a handful of
men in comparison, in expectation that the Euboeans themselves would
flock in and join him. But when he came, he found all things in
confusion, the country all betrayed, the whole ground, as it were,
undermined under his feet, by the secret pensioners of King Philip, so
that he was in the greatest risk imaginable. To secure himself as
far as he could, he seized a small rising ground, which was divided
from the level plains about Tamynae by a deep watercourse, and here he
enclosed and fortified the choicest of his army. As for the idle
talkers and disorderly bad citizens who ran off from his camp and made
their way back, he bade his officers not regard them, since here
they would have been not only useless and ungovernable themselves, but
an actual hindrance to the rest: and further, being conscious to
themselves of the neglect of their duty, they would be less ready to
misrepresent the action, or raise a cry against them at their return
home. When the enemy drew nigh, he bade his men stand to their arms,
until he had finished the sacrifice, in which he spent a
considerable time, either by some difficulty of the thing itself, or
on purpose to invite the enemy nearer. Plutarch, interpreting this
tardiness as a failure in his courage, fell on alone with the
mercenaries, which the cavalry perceiving, could not be contained, but
issuing also out of the camp, confusedly and in disorder, spurred up
to the enemy. The first who came up were defeated, the rest were put
to the rout. Plutarch himself took to flight, and a body of the
enemy advanced in the hope of carrying the camp, supposing
themselves to have secured the victory. But by this time, the
sacrifice being over, the Athenians within the camp came forward,
and falling upon them put them to flight, and killed the greater
number as they fled among the intrenchments, while Phocion, ordering
his infantry to keep on the watch and rally those who came in from the
previous flight, himself, with a body of his best men, engaged the
enemy in a sharp and bloody fight, in which all of them behaved with
signal courage and gallantry. Thallus, the son of Cineas, and
Glaucus of Polymedes, who fought near the general, gained the
honours of the day. Cleophanes, also, did good service in the
battle. Recovering the cavalry from its defeat, and with his shouts
and encouragement bringing them up to succour the general, who was
in danger, he confirmed the victory obtained by the infantry.
Phocion now expelled Plutarch from Eretria, and possessed himself of
the very important fort of Zaretra, situated where the island is
pinched in, as it were, by the seas on each side, and its breadth most
reduced to a narrow girth. He released all the Greeks whom he took,
out of fear of the public speakers at Athens, thinking they might very
likely persuade the people in their anger into committing some act
of cruelty.
  This affair thus despatched and settled, Phocion set sail homewards,
and the allies had soon as good reason to regret the loss of his
just and humane dealing as the Athenians that of his experience and
courage. Molossus, the commander who took his place, had no better
success than to fall alive into the enemy's hands.
  Philip, full of great thoughts and designs, now advanced with all
his forces into the Hellespont, to seize the Chersonesus and
Perinthus, and after them Byzantium. The Athenians raised a force to
relieve them, but the popular leaders made it their business to prefer
Chares to be general, who, sailing thither, effected nothing worthy of
the means placed in his hands. The cities were afraid, and would not
receive his ships into their harbours, so that he did nothing but
wander about, raising money from their friends, and despised by
their enemies. When the people, chafed by the orators, were
extremely indignant, and repented having ever sent any help to the
Byzantines, Phocion rose and told them they ought not to be angry with
the allies for distrusting, but with their generals for being
distrusted. "They make you suspected," he said, "even by those who
cannot possibly subsist without your succour." The assembly being
moved with this speech of his, changed their minds on the sudden,
and commanded him immediately to raise another force, and go himself
to assist their confederates in the Hellespont; an appointment
which, in effect, contributed more than anything to the relief of
Byzantium.
  For Phocion's name was already honourably known; and an old
acquaintance of his, who had been his fellow-student in the Academy,
Leon, a man of high renown for virtue among the Byzantines, having
vouched for Phocion to the city, they opened their gates to receive
him, not permitting him, though he desired it, to encamp without the
walls, but entertained him and all the Athenians with perfect
reliance, while they, to requite their confidence, behaved among their
new hosts soberly and inoffensively, and exerted themselves on all
occasions with the greatest zeal and resolution for their defence.
Thus King Philip was driven out of the Hellespont, and was despised to
boot, whom, till now, it had been thought impossible to match, or even
to oppose. Phocion also took some of his ships, and recaptured some of
the places he had garrisoned, making besides several inroads into
the country, which he plundered and overran, until he received a wound
from some of the enemy who came to the defence, and, thereupon, sailed
away home.
  The Megarians at this time privately praying aid of the Athenians,
Phocion, fearing lest the Boeotians should hear of it, and
anticipate them, called an assembly at sunrise, and brought forward
the petition of the Megarians, and immediately after the vote had been
put, and carried in their favour, he sounded the trumpet, and led
the Athenians straight from the assembly, to arm and put themselves in
posture. The Megarians received them joyfully, and he proceeded to
fortify Nisaea, and built two new long walls from the city to the
arsenal, and so joined it to the sea, so that having now little reason
to regard the enemies on the land side, it placed its dependence
entirely on the Athenians.
  When final hostilities with Philip were now certain, and in
Phocion's absence other generals had been nominated, he, on his
arrival from the islands, dealt earnestly with the Athenians, that
since Philip showed peaceable inclinations towards them, and greatly
apprehended the danger, they would consent to a treaty. Being
contradicted in this by one of the ordinary frequenters of the
courts of justice, a common accuser, who asked him if he durst presume
to persuade the Athenians to peace, now their arms were in their
hands, "Yes," said he, "though I know that if there be war, I shall be
in office over you, and if peace, you over me." But when he could
not prevail, and Demosthenes's opinion carried it, advising them to
make war as far off from home as possible, and fight the battle out of
Attica, "Good friends," said Phocion, "let us not ask where we shall
fight, but how we may conquer in the war. That will be the way to keep
it at a distance. If we are beaten, it will be quickly at our
doors." After the defeat, when the clamourers and incendiaries in
the town would have brought up Charidemus to the hustings, to be
nominated to the command, the best of the citizens were in a panic,
and supporting themselves with the aid of the council of the
Areopagus, with entreaties and tears, hardly prevailed upon the people
to have Phocion entrusted with the care of the city. He was of
opinion, in general, that the fair terms to be expected from Philip
should be accepted, yet after Demades had made a motion that the
city should receive the common conditions of peace in concurrence with
the rest of the states of Greece, he opposed it, till it were known
what the particulars were which Philip demanded. He was overborne in
this advice, under the pressure of the time, but almost immediately
after the Athenians repented it, when they understood that by these
articles they were obliged to furnish Philip both with horse and
shipping. "It was the fear of this," said Phocion, "that occasioned my
opposition. But since the thing is done, let us make the best of it,
and not be discouraged. Our forefathers were sometimes in command, and
sometimes under it; and by doing their duty, whether as rulers or as
subjects, saved their own country and the rest of Greece."
  Upon the news of Philip's death, he opposed himself to any public
demonstrations of joy and jubilee, saying it would be ignoble to
show malice upon such an occasion, and that the army that had fought
them at Chaeronea was only diminished by a single man.
  When Demosthenes made his invectives against Alexander, now on his
way to attack Thebes, he repeated those verses of Homer:-

         "Unwise one, wherefore to a second stroke
          His anger be foolhardy to provoke?"

and asked "Why stimulate his already eager passion for glory? Why take
pains to expose the city to the terrible conflagration now so near?
We, who accepted office to save our fellow-citizens, will not, however
they desire it, be consenting to their destruction."
  After Thebes was lost, and Alexander had demanded Demosthenes,
Lycurgus, Hyperides, and Charidemus to be delivered up, the whole
assembly turning their eyes to him, and calling on him by name to
deliver his opinion, at last he rose up, and showing them one of his
most intimate friends, whom he loved and confided in above all others,
told them, "You have brought things amongst you to that pass, that for
my part, should he demand this my friend Nicocles, I would not
refuse to give him up. For as for myself, to have it in my power to
sacrifice my own life and fortune for the common safety, I should
think the greatest of good fortune. Truly," he added, "it pierces my
heart to see those who are fled hither for succour from the desolation
of Thebes. Yet it is enough for Greece to have Thebes to deplore. It
will be more for the interest of all that we should deprecate the
conqueror's anger, and intercede for both, than run the hazard of
another battle."
  When this was decreed by the people, Alexander is said to have
rejected their first address when it was presented, throwing it from
him scornfully, and turning his back upon the deputation, who left him
in affright. But the second, which was presented by Phocion, he
received, understanding from the older Macedonians how much Philip had
admired and esteemed him. And he not only gave him audience and
listened to his memorial and petition, but also permitted him to
advise him, which he did to this effect, that if his designs were
for quietness, he should make peace at once; if glory were his aim, he
should make war, not upon Greece, but on the barbarians. With
various counsels and suggestions, happily designed to meet the
genius and feelings of Alexander, he so won upon him, and softened his
temper, that he bade the Athenians not forget their position, as if
anything went wrong with him, the supremacy belonged to them. And to
Phocion himself, whom he adopted as his friend and guest, he showed
a respect, and admitted him to distinctions, which few of those who
were continually near his person ever received. Duris, at any rate,
tells us, that when he became great, and had conquered Darius, in
the heading of all his letters he left off the word Greeting, except
in those he wrote to Phocion. To him, and to Antipater alone, he
condescended to use it. This also is stated by Chares.
  As for his munificence to him, it is well known he sent him a
present at one time of one hundred talents; and this being brought
to Athens, Phocion asked of the bearers how it came to pass that among
all the Athenians he alone should be the object of this bounty.
Being told that Alexander esteemed him alone a person of honour and
worth, "Let him, then," said he, "permit me to continue so and be
still so reputed." Following him to his house, and observing his
simple and plain way of living, his wife employed in kneading bread
with her own hands, himself drawing water to wash his feet, they
pressed him to accept it, with some indignation, being ashamed, as
they said, that Alexander's friend should live so poorly and
pitifully. So Phocion, pointing out to them a poor old fellow, in a
dirty worn-out coat, passing by, asked them if they thought him in
worse condition than this man. They bade him not mention such a
comparison. "Yet," said Phocion, "he, with less to live upon than I,
finds it sufficient, and in brief," he continued, "if I do not use
this money, what good is there in my having it; and if I do use it,
I shall procure an ill name, both for myself and for Alexander,
among my countrymen." So the treasure went back again from Athens,
to prove to Greece, by a signal example, that he who could afford to
give so magnificent a present, was yet not so rich as he who could
afford to refuse it. And when Alexander was displeased, and wrote back
to him to say that he could not esteem those his friends who would not
be obliged by him, not even would this induce Phocion to accept the
money, but he begged leave to intercede with him in behalf of
Echecratides, the sophist, and Athenodorus, the Imbrian, as also for
Demaratus and Sparton, two Rhodians, who had been arrested upon some
charges, and were in custody at Sardis. This was instantly granted
by Alexander, and they were set at liberty. Afterwards, when sending
Craterus into Macedonia, he commanded him to make him an offer of four
cities in Asia, Cius, Gergithus, Mylasa, and Elaea, any one of
which, at his choice, should be delivered to him; insisting yet more
positively with him, and declaring he should resent it, should he
continue obstinate in his refusal. But Phocion was not to be prevailed
with at all, and shortly after, Alexander died.
  Phocion's house is shown to this day in Melita, ornamented with
small plates of copper, but otherwise plain and homely. Concerning his
wives, of the first of them there is little said, except that she
was sister of Cephisodotus, the statuary. The other was a matron of no
less reputation for her virtues and simple living among the
Athenians than Phocion was for his probity. It happened once when
the people were entertained with a new tragedy, that the actor, just
as he was to enter the stage to perform the part of a queen,
demanded to have a number of attendants sumptuously dressed, to follow
in his train, and on their not being provided, was sullen and
refused to act, keeping the audience waiting, till at last Melanthius,
who had to furnish the chorus, pushed him on the stage, crying out,
"What, don't you know that Phocion's wife is never attended by more
than a single waiting-woman, but you must needs be grand, and fill our
women's heads with vanity?" This speech of his, spoken loud enough
to be heard, was received with great applause, and clapped all round
the theatre. She herself, when once entertaining a visitor out of
Ionia, who showed her all her rich ornaments, made of gold and set
with jewels, her wreaths, necklaces, and the like, "For my part," said
she, "all my ornament is my husband, Phocion, now for the twentieth
year in office as general at Athens."
  He had a son named Phocus, who wished to take part in the games at
the great feast of Minerva. He permitted him so to do, in the
contest of leaping, not with any view to the victory, but in the
hope that the training and discipline for it would make him a better
man, the youth being in a general way a lover of drinking, and
ill-regulated in his habits. On his having succeeded in the sports,
many were eager for the honour of his company at banquets in
celebration of the victory. Phocion declined all these invitations but
one, and when he came to this entertainment and saw the costly
preparations, even the water brought to wash the guests' feet being
mingled with wine and spices, he reprimanded his son, asking him why
he would so far permit his friend to sully the honour of his
victory. And in the hope of wholly weaning the young man from such
habits and company, he sent him to Lacedaemon, and placed him among
the youths then under the course of the Spartan discipline. This the
Athenians took offence at, as though he slighted and contemned the
education at home: and Demades twitted him with it publicly. "Suppose,
Phocion, you and I advise the Athenians to adopt the Spartan
constitution. If you like, I am ready to introduce a bill to that
effect, and to speak in its favour." "Indeed," said Phocion, "you,
with that strong scent of perfumes about you, and with that mantle
on your shoulders, are just the very man to speak in honour of
Lycurgus, and recommend the Spartan table."
  When Alexander wrote to demand a supply of galleys, and the public
speakers objected to sending them, Phocion, on the council
requesting his opinion, told them freely, "Sirs, I would either have
you victorious yourselves, or friends of those who are so." He took up
Pytheas, who about this time first began to address the assembly,
and already showed himself a confident, talking fellow, by saying that
a young slave whom the people had but bought yesterday ought to have
the manners to hold his tongue. And when Harpalus, who had fled from
Alexander out of Asia, carrying off a large sum of money, came to
Attica, and there was a perfect race among the ordinary public men
of the assembly who should be the first to take his pay, he
distributed amongst these some trifling sums by way of a bait and
provocative, but to Phocion he made an offer of no less than seven
hundred talents and all manner of other advantages he pleased to
demand; with the compliment that he would entirely commit himself
and all his affairs to his disposal. Phocion answered sharply,
Harpalus should repent of it, if he did not quickly leave off
corrupting and debauching the city, which for the time silenced him,
and checked his proceedings. But afterwards, when the Athenians were
deliberating in council about him, he found those that had received
money from him to be his greatest enemies, urging and aggravating
matters against him, to prevent themselves being discovered, whereas
Phocion, who had never touched his pay, now, so far as the public
interest would admit of it, showed some regard to his particular
security. This encouraged him once more to try his inclinations, and
upon further survey finding that he himself was a fortress,
inaccessible on every quarter to the approaches of corruption, he
professed a particular friendship to Phocion's son-in-law,
Charicles. And admitting him into his confidence in all his affairs,
and continually requesting his assistance, he brought him under some
suspicion. Upon the occasion, for example, of the death of
Pythonice, who was Harpalus's mistress, for whom he had a great
fondness, and had a child by her, he resolved to build her a sumptuous
monument, and committed the care of it to his friend Charicles. This
commission, disreputable enough in itself, was yet further
disparaged by the figure the piece of workmanship made after it was
finished. It is yet to be seen in the Hermenum, as you go from
Athens to Eleusis, with nothing in its appearance answerable to the
sum of thirty talents, with which Charicles is said to have charged
Harpalus for its erection. After Harpalus's own decease, his
daughter was educated by Phocion and Charicles with great care. But
when Charicles was called to account for his dealings with Harpalus,
and entreated his father-in-law's protection, begging that he would
appear for him in the court, Phocion refused, telling him, "I did
not choose you for my son-in-law for any but honourable purposes."
  Asclepiades, the son of Hipparchus, brought the first tidings of
Alexander's death to Athens, which Demades told them was not to be
credited; for were it true, the whole world would ere this have
stunk with the dead body. But Phocion, seeing the people eager for
an instant revolution, did his best to quiet and repress them. And
when numbers of them rushed up to the hustings to speak, and cried out
that the news was true, and Alexander was dead, "If he is dead
to-day," said, "he will be so to-morrow and the day after to-morrow
equally. So that there is no need to take counsel hastily or before it
is safe."
  When Leosthenes now had embarked the city in the Lamian war, greatly
against Phocion's wishes, to raise a laugh against Phocion, he asked
him scoffingly, what the state had been benefited by his having now so
many years been general. "It is not a little," said Phocion, "that the
citizens have been buried in their own sepulchres." And when
Leosthenes continued to speak boldly and boastfully in the assembly,
"Young man," he said, "your speeches are like cypress-trees, stately
and tall, and no fruit to come of them." When he was then attacked
by Hyperides, who asked him when the time would come that he would
advise the Athenians to make war. "As soon," said he, "as I find the
young men keep their ranks, the rich men contribute their money, and
the orators leave off robbing the treasury." Afterwards, when many
admired the forces raised, and the preparations for war that were made
by Leosthenes, they asked Phocion how he approved of the new levies.
"Very well," said he, "for the short course; but what I fear is the
long race. Since, however late the war may last, the city has
neither money, ships, nor soldiers, but these." The event justified
his prognostics. At first all things appeared fair and promising.
Leosthenes gained great reputation by worsting the Boeotians in
battle, and driving Antipater within the walls of Lamia, and the
citizens were so transported with the first successes, that they
kept solemn festivities for them, and offered public sacrifices to the
gods. So that some, thinking Phocion must now be convinced of his
error, asked him whether he would not willingly have been author of
these successful actions. "Yes," said he, "most gladly, but also of
the former counsel." And when one express after another came from
the camp, confirming and magnifying the victories, "When," said he,
"will the end of them come?"
  Leosthenes, soon after, was killed, and now those who feared lest if
Phocion obtained the command he would put an end to the war,
arranged with an obscure person in the assembly, who should stand up
and profess himself to be a friend and old confidant of Phocion's, and
persuade the people to spare him at this time, and reserve him (with
whom none could compare) for a more pressing occasion, and now to give
Antiphilus the command of the army. This pleased the generality, but
Phocion made it appear he was so far from having any friendship with
him of old standing, that he had not so much as the least
familiarity with him; "Yet now, sir," says he, "give me leave to put
you down among the number of my friends and well-wishers, as you
have given a piece of advice so much to my advantage."
  When the people were eager to make an expedition against the
Boeotians, he at first opposed it; and on his friends telling him
the people would kill him for always running counter to them, "That
will be unjust of them," he said, "if I give them honest advice, if
not, it will be just of them." But when he found them persisting and
shouting to him to lead them out, he commanded the crier to make
proclamation, that all the Athenians under sixty should instantly
provide themselves with five days' provision, and follow him from
the assembly. This caused a great tumult. Those in years were
startled, and clamoured against the order; he demanded wherein he
injured them, "For I," says he, "am now fourscore, and am ready to
lead you." This succeeded in pacifying them for the present.
  But when Micion, with a large force of Macedonians and
mercenaries, began to pillage the sea-coast, having made a descent
upon Rhamnus, and overrun the neighbouring country, Phocion led out
the Athenians to attack him. And when sundry private persons came,
intermeddling with his dispositions, and telling him that he ought
to occupy such or such a hill, detach the cavalry in this or that
direction, engage the enemy on this point or that, "Oh Hercules," said
he, "how many generals have we here, and how few soldiers!"
Afterwards, having formed the battle, one who wished to show his
bravery advanced out of his post before the rest, but on the enemy's
approaching, lost heart, and retired back into his rank. "Young
man," said Phocion, "are you not ashamed twice in one day to desert
your station, first that on which I had placed you, and secondly
that on which you had placed yourself?" However, he entirely routed
the enemy, killing Micion and many more on the spot. The Grecian army,
also, in Thessaly, after Leonnatus and the Macedonians who came with
him out of Asia had arrived and joined Antipater, fought and beat them
in a battle. Leonnatus was killed in the fight, Antiphilus
commanding the foot, and Menon, the Thessalian, the horse.
  But not long after, Craterus crossed from Asia with numerous forces;
a pitched battle was fought at Cranon; the Greeks were beaten;
though not, indeed, in a signal defeat, nor with any great loss of
men. But what with their want of obedience to their commanders, who
were young and over-indulgent with them, and what with Antipater's
tampering and treating with their separate cities, one by one, the end
of it was that the army was dissolved, and the Greeks shamefully
surrendered the liberty of their country.
  Upon the news of Antipater's now advancing at once against Athens,
with all his force, Demosthenes and Hyperides deserted the city, and
Demades, who was altogether insolvent for any part of the fines that
had been laid upon him by the city, for he had been condemned no
less than seven times for introducing bills contrary to the laws,
and who had been disfranchised, and was no longer competent to vote in
the assembly, laid hold of this season of impunity to bring in a
bill for sending ambassadors with plenipotentiary power to
Antipater, to treat about a peace. But the people distrusted him,
and called upon Phocion to give his opinion, as the person they only
and entirely confided in. He told them, "If my former counsels had
been prevalent with you, we had not been reduced to deliberate the
question at all." However, the vote passed; and a decree was made, and
he with others deputed to go to Antipater, who lay now encamped in the
Theban territories, but intended to dislodge immediately, and pass
into Attica. Phocion's first request was, that he would make the
treaty without moving his camp. And when Craterus declared that it was
not fair to ask them to be burdensome to the country of their
friends and allies by their stay, when they might rather use that of
their enemies for provisions and the support of their army, Antipater,
taking him by the hand, said, "We must grant this favour to
Phocion." For the rest he bade them return to their principals, and
acquaint them that he could only offer them the same terms, namely, to
surrender at discretion, which Leosthenes had offered to him when he
was shut up in Lamia.
  When Phocion had returned to the city and acquainted them with
this answer, they made a virtue of necessity and complied, since it
would be no better. So Phocion returned to Thebes with the other
ambassadors, and among the rest Xenocrates, the philosopher, the
reputation of whose virtue and wisdom was so great and famous
everywhere, that they conceived there could not be any pride, cruelty,
or anger arising in the heart of man, which would not at the mere
sight of him be subdued into something of reverence and admiration.
But the result, as it happened, was the very opposite, Antipater
showed such a want of feeling, and such a dislike of goodness. He
saluted every one else, but would not so much as notice Xenocrates.
Xenocrates, they tell us, observed upon it, that Antipater, when
meditating such cruelty to Athens, did well to be ashamed of seeing
him. When he began to speak, he would not hear him, but broke in and
rudely interrupted him, until at last he was obliged to be silent. But
when Phocion had declared the purport of their embassy, he replied
shortly, that he would make peace with the Athenians on these
conditions, and no others; that Demosthenes and Hyperides should be
delivered up to him; that they should retain their ancient form of
government, the franchise being determined by a property
qualification; that they should receive a garrison into Munychia,
and pay a certain sum of the cost of the war. As things stood, these
terms were judged tolerable by the rest of the ambassadors; Xenocrates
only said, that if Antipater considered the Athenians slaves, he was
treating them fairly; but if free, severely. Phocion pressed him
only to spare them the garrison, and used many arguments and
entreaties. Antipater replied, "Phocion, we are ready to do you any
favour, which will not bring ruin both on ourselves and on you."
Others report it differently; that Antipater asked Phocion,
supposing he remitted the garrison to the Athenians, would he,
Phocion, stand surety for the city's observing the terms and
attempting no revolution? And when he hesitated, and did not at once
reply, Callimedon, the Carabus, a hot partisan and professed enemy
of free states, cried out, "And if he should talk so idly,
Antipater, will you be so much abused as to believe him and not
carry out your own purpose?" So the Athenians received the garrison,
and Menyllus for the governor, a fair-dealing man, and one of
Phocion's acquaintance.
  But the proceeding seemed sufficiently imperious and arbitrary,
indeed rather a spiteful and insulting ostentation of power, than that
the possession of the fortress would be of any great importance. The
resentment felt upon it was heightened by the time it happened in, for
the garrison was brought in on the twentieth of the month of
Boedromion. Just at the time of the great festival, when they carry
forth Iacchus with solemn pomp from the city to Eleusis; so that the
solemnity being disturbed, many began to call to mind instances,
both ancient and modern, of divine interventions and intimations.
For in old time, upon the occasions of their happiest successes, the
presence of the shapes and voices of the mystic ceremonies had been
vouchsafed to them, striking terror and amazement into their
enemies; but now, at the very season of their celebration, the gods
themselves stood witnesses of the saddest oppressions of Greece, the
most holy time being profaned, and their greatest jubilee made the
unlucky date of their most extreme calamity. Not many years before,
they had a warning from the oracle at Dodona, that they should
carefully guard the summits of Diana, lest haply strangers should
seize them. And about this very time, when they dyed the ribbons and
garlands with which they adorn the couches and cars of the procession,
instead of a purple, they received only a faint yellow colour; and
to make the omen yet greater, all the things that were dyed for common
use, took the natural colour. While a candidate for initiation was
washing a young pig in the haven of Cantharus, a shark seized him, bit
off his lower parts up to the belly, and devoured them, by which the
god gave them manifestly to understand, that having lost the lower
town and sea-coast, they should keep only the upper city.
  Menyllus was sufficient security that the garrison should behave
itself inoffensively. But those who were now excluded from the
franchise by property amounted to more than twelve thousand; so that
both those that remained in the city thought themselves oppressed
and shamefully used, and those who on this account left their homes
and went away into Thrace, where Antipater offered them a town and
some territory to inhabit, regarded themselves only as a colony of
slaves and exiles. And when to this was added the deaths of
Demosthenes at Calauria, and of Hyperides at Clonae, as we have
elsewhere related, the citizens began to think with regret of Philip
and Alexander, and almost to wish the return of those times. And as,
after Antigonus was slain, when those that had taken him off were
afflicting and oppressing the people, a countryman in Phrygia, digging
in the fields, was asked what he was doing, "I am," said he,
fetching a deep sigh, "searching for Antigonus;" so said many that
remembered those days, and the contests they had with those kings,
whose anger, however great, was yet generous and placable; whereas
Antipater, with the counterfeit humility of appearing like a private
man, in the meanness of his dress and his homely fare, merely belied
his real love of that arbitrary power, which he exercised, as a
cruel master and despot, to distress those under his command. Yet
Phocion had interest with him to recall many from banishment by his
intercession, and prevailed also for those who were driven out, that
they might not, like others, be hurried beyond Taenarus, and the
mountains of Ceraunia, but remain in Greece, and plant themselves in
Peloponnesus, of which number was Agnonides, the sycophant. He was
no less studious to manage the affairs within the city with equity and
moderation, preferring constantly those that were men of worth and
good education to the magistracies, and recommending the busy and
turbulent talkers, to whom it was a mortal blow to be excluded from
office and public debating, to learn to stay at home, and be content
to till their land. And observing that Xenocrates paid his alien-tax
as a foreigner, he offered him the freedom of the city, which he
refused, saying he could not accept a franchise which he had been sent
as an ambassador to deprecate.
  Menyllus wished to give Phocion a considerable present of money,
who, thanking him, said, neither was Menyllus greater than
Alexander, nor his own occasions more urgent to receive it now, than
when he refused it from him. And on his pressing him to permit his son
Phocus to receive it, he replied, "If my son returns to a right
mind, his patrimony is sufficient; if not, all supplies will be
insufficient." But to Antipater he answered more sharply, who would
have him engaged in something dishonourable. "Antipater," said he,
"cannot have me both as his friend and his flatterer." And, indeed,
Antipater was wont to say he had two friends at Athens, Phocion and
Demades; the one would never suffer him to gratify him at all, the
other would never be satisfied. Phocion might well think that
poverty a virtue, in which, after having so often been general of
the Athenians, and admitted to the friendship of potentates and
princes, he had now grown old. Demades, meantime, delighted in
lavishing his wealth even in positive transgressions of the law. For
there having been an order that no foreigner should be hired to
dance in any chorus on the penalty of a fine of one thousand
drachmas on the exhibitor, he had the vanity to exhibit an entire
chorus of a hundred foreigners, and paid down the penalty of a
thousand drachmas a head upon the stage itself. Marrying his son
Demeas, he told him with the like vanity, "My son, when I married your
mother, it was done so privately it was not known to the next
neighbours, but kings and princes give presents at your nuptials."
  The garrison in Munychia continued to be felt as a great
grievance, and the Athenians did not cease to be importunate upon
Phocion, to prevail with Antipater for its removal; but whether he
despaired of effecting it, or perhaps observed the people to be more
orderly, and public matters more reasonably conducted by the awe
that was thus created, he constantly declined the office, and
contented himself with obtaining from Antipater the postponement for
the present of the payment of the sum of money in which the city was
fined. So the people, leaving him off applied themselves to Demades,
who readily undertook the employment, and took along with him his
son also into Macedonia; and some superior power, as it seems, so
ordering it, he came just at that nick of time when Antipater was
already seized with his sickness, and Cassander, taking upon himself
the command, had found a letter of Demades's, formerly written by
him to Antigonus in Asia recommending him to come and possess
himself of the empire of Greece and Macedon, now hanging, he said (a
scoff at Antipater), "by an old and rotten thread." So when
Cassander saw him come, he seized him; and first brought out the
son. and killed him so close before his face that the blood ran all
over his clothes and person, and then, after bitterly taunting and
upbraiding him with his ingratitude and treachery, despatched him
himself.
  Antipater being dead, after nominating Polysperchon general-in-chief
and Cassander commander of the cavalry, Cassander at once set up for
himself, and immediately despatched Nicanor to Menyllus, to succeed
him in the command of the garrison, commanding him to possess
himself of Munychia before the news of Antipater's death should be
heard; which being done, and some days after the Athenians hearing the
report of it, Phocion was taxed as privy to it before, and censured
heavily for dissembling it, out of friendship for Nicanor. But he
slighted their talk, and making it his duty to visit and confer
continually with Nicanor, he succeeded in procuring his good-will
and kindness for the Athenians, and induced him even to put himself to
trouble and expense to seek popularity with them, by undertaking the
office of presiding at the games.
  In the meantime Polysperchon, who was intrusted with the charge of
the king, to countermine Cassander, sent a letter to the city,
declaring, in the name of the king, that he restored them their
democracy, and that the whole Athenian people were at liberty to
conduct their commonwealth according to their ancient customs and
constitutions. The object of these pretences was merely the
overthrow of Phocion's influence, as the event manifested. For
Polysperchon's design being to possess himself of the city, he
despaired altogether of bringing it to pass whilst Phocion retained
his credit; and the most certain way to ruin him would be again to
fill the city with a crowd of disfranchised citizens, and let loose
the tongues of the demagogues and common accusers.
  With this prospect the Athenians were all in excitement, and
Nicanor, wishing to confer with them on the subject, at a meeting of
the Council in Piraeus, came himself, trusting for the safety of his
person to Phocion. And when Dercyllus, who commanded the guard
there, made an attempt to seize him, upon notice of it beforehand,
he made his escape, and there was little doubt he would now lose no
time in righting himself upon the city for the affront; and when
Phocion was found fault with for letting him get off and not
securing him, he defended himself by saying that he had no mistrust of
Nicanor, nor the least reason to expect any mischief from him, but
should it prove otherwise, for his part he would have them all know,
he would rather receive than do the wrong. And so far as he spoke
for himself alone, the answer was honourable and high-minded enough,
but he who hazards his country's safety, and that, too, when he is her
magistrate and chief commander, can scarcely be acquitted, I fear,
of transgressing a higher and more sacred obligation of justice, which
he owed to his fellow-citizens. For it will not even do to say that he
dreaded the involving the city in war, by seizing Nicanor, and hoped
by professions of confidence and just-dealing to retain him in the
observance of the like; but it was, indeed, his credulity and
confidence in him, and an overweening opinion of his sincerity, that
imposed upon him. So that notwithstanding the sundry intimations he
had of his making, preparations to attack Piraeus, sending soldiers
over into Salamis, and tampering with and endeavouring to corrupt
various residents in Piraeus, he would, notwithstanding all this
evidence, never be persuaded to believe it. And even when Philomedes
of Lampra had got a decree passed, that all the Athenians should stand
to their arms, and be ready to follow Phocion their general, he yet
sat still and did nothing, until Nicanor actually led his troops out
from Munychia, and drew trenches about Piraeus; upon which, when
Phocion at last would have let out the Athenians, they cried out
against him, and slighted his orders.
  Alexander, the son of Polysperchon, was at hand with a
considerable force, and professed to come to give them succour against
Nicanor, but intended nothing less, if possible, than to surprise
the city, whilst they were in tumult and divided among themselves. For
all that had previously been expelled from the city, now coming back
with him, made their way into it, and were joined by a mixed multitude
of foreigners and disfranchised persons, and of these a motley and
irregular public assembly came together, in which they presently
divested Phocion of all power, and chose other generals; and if by
chance Alexander had not been spied from the walls, alone in close
conference with Nicanor, and had not this, which was often repeated,
given the Athenians cause of suspicion, the city had not escaped the
snare. The orator Agnonides, however, at once fell foul upon
Phocion, and impeached him of treason; Callimedon and Charicles,
fearing the worst, consulted their own security by flying from the
city. Phocion, with a few of his friends that stayed with him went
over to Polysperchon, and out of respect for him, Solon of Plataea,
and Dinarchus of Corinth, who were reputed friends and confidants of
Polysperchon, accompanied him. But on account of Dinarchus falling
ill, they remained several days in Elatea, during which time, upon the
persuasion of Agnonides and on the motion of Archestratus, a decree
passed that the people should send delegates thither to accuse
Phocion. So both parties reached Polysperchon at the same time, who
was going through the country with the king, and was then at a small
village of Phocis, Pharygae, under the mountain now called Galate, but
then Acrurium.
  There Polysperchon, having set up the golden canopy, and seated
the king and his company under it, ordered Dinarchus at once to be
taken, and tortured, and put to death; and that done, gave audience to
the Athenians, who filled the place with noise and tumult, accusing
and recriminating on one another, till at last Agnonides came forward,
and requested they might all be shut up together in one cage, and
conveyed to Athens, there to decide the controversy. At that the
king could not forbear smiling, but the company that attended, for
their own amusement, Macedonians and strangers, were eager to hear the
altercation, and made signs to the delegates to go on with their
case at once. But it was no sort of fair hearing. Polysperchon
frequently interrupted Phocion, till at last Phocion struck his
staff on the ground and declined to speak further. And when Hegemon
said, Polysperchon himself could bear witness to his affection for the
people, Polysperchon called out fiercely, "Give over slandering me
to the king," and the king starting up was about to have run him
through with his javelin, but Polysperchon interposed and hindered
him; so that the assembly dissolved.
  Phocion, then, and those about him, were seized; those of his
friends that were not immediately by him, on seeing this, hid their
faces, and saved themselves by flight. The rest Clitus took and
brought to Athens, to be submitted to trial; but, in truth, as men
already sentenced to die. The manner of conveying them was indeed
extremely moving; they were carried in chariots through the Ceramicus,
straight to the place of judicature, where Clitus secured them till
they had convoked an assembly of the people, which was open to all
comers, neither foreigners, nor slaves, nor those who had been
punished with disfranchisement being refused admittance, but all
alike, both men and women, being allowed to come into the court, and
even upon the place of speaking. So having read the king's letters, in
which he declared he was satisfied himself that these men were
traitors, however, they being a free city, he willingly accorded
them the grace of trying and judging them according to their own laws,
Clitus brought in his prisoners. Every respectable citizen, at the
sight of Phocion, covered up his face, and stooped down to conceal his
tears. And one of them had the courage to say, that since the king had
committed so important a cause to the judgment of the people, it would
be well that the strangers, and those of servile condition, should
withdraw. But the populace would not endure it, crying out they were
oligarchs, and enemies to the liberty of the people, and deserved to
be stoned; after which no man durst offer anything further in
Phocion's behalf. He was himself with difficulty heard at all, when he
put the question, "Do you wish to put us to death lawfully or
unlawfully?" Some answered, "According to law." He replied, "How can
you, except we have a fair hearing?" But when they were deaf to all he
said, approaching nearer, "As to myself," said he, "I admit my
guilt, and pronounce my public conduct to have deserved sentence of
death. But why, O men of Athens, kill others who have offended in
nothing?" The rabble cried out they were his friends, that was enough.
Phocion therefore drew back, and said no more.
  Then Agnonides read the bill, in accordance with which the people
should decide by show of hands whether they judged them guilty, and if
so it should be found, the penalty should be death. When this had been
read out, some desired it might be added to the sentence that
Phocion should be tortured also, and the rack should be produced
with the executioners. But Agnonides perceiving even Clitus to dislike
this, and himself thinking it horrid and barbarous, said, "When we
catch that slave, Callimedon, men of Athens, we will put him to the
rack, but I shall make no motion of the kind in Phocion's case."
Upon which one of the better citizens remarked, he was quite right;
"If he should torture Phocion, what could we do to you?" So the form
of the bill was approved of, and the show of hands called for; upon
which, not one man retaining his seat, but all rising up, and some
with garlands on their heads, they condemned them all to death.
  There were present with Phocion, Nicocles, Thudippus, Hegemon, and
Pythocles. Demetrius the Phalerian, Callimedon, Charicles, and some
others, were included in the condemnation, being absent.
  After the assembly was dismissed, they were carried to the prison;
the rest with cries and lamentations, their friends and relatives
following and clinging about them, but Phocion looking (as men
observed with astonishment at his calmness and magnanimity), just
the same as when he had been used to return to his home attended, as
general, from the assembly. His enemies ran along by his side,
reviling and abusing him. And one of them coming up to him, spat in
his face; at which Phocion, turning to the officers, only said, "You
should stop this indecency." Thudippus, on their reaching the
prison, when he observed the executioner tempering the poison and
preparing it for them, gave away to his passion, and began to bemoan
his condition and the hard measure he received, thus unjustly to
suffer with Phocion. "You cannot be contented," said he, "to die
with Phocion?" One of his friends that stood by, asked him if he
wished to have anything said to his son. "Yes, by all means," said he,
"bid him bear no grudge against the Athenians." Then Nicocles, the
dearest and most faithful of his friends, begged to be allowed to
drink the poison first. "My friend," said he, "you ask what I am loath
and sorrowful to give, but as I never yet in all my life was so
thankless as to refuse you, I must gratify you in this also." After
they had all drunk of it, the poison ran short; and the executioner
refused to prepare more, except they would pay him twelve drachmas, to
defray the cost of the quantity required. Some delay was made, and
time spent, when Phocion called one of his friends, and observing that
a man could not even die at Athens without paying for it, requested
him to give the sum.
  It was the nineteenth day of the month Munychion, on which it was
the usage to have a solemn procession in the city, in honour of
Jupiter. The horsemen, as they passed by, some of them threw away
their garlands, others stopped, weeping, and casting sorrowful looks
towards the prison doors, and all the citizens whose minds were not
absolutely debauched by spite and passion, or who had any humanity
left, acknowledged it to have been most impiously done, not, at least,
to let that day pass, and the city so be kept pure from death and a
public execution at the solemn festival. But as if this triumph had
been insufficient, the malice of Phocion's enemies went yet further;
his dead body was excluded from burial within the boundaries of the
country, and none of the Athenians could light a funeral pile to
burn the corpse; neither durst any of his friends venture to concern
themselves about it. A certain Conopion, a man who used to do these
offices for hire, took the body and carried it beyond Eleusis, and
procuring fire from over the frontier of Megara, burned it.
Phocion's wife, with her servant-maids, being present and assisting at
the solemnity, raised there an empty tomb, and performed the customary
libations, and gathering up the bones in her lap, and bringing them
home by night, dug a place for them by the fireside in her house,
saying, "Blessed hearth, to your custody I commit the remains of a
good and brave man, and, I beseech you, protect and restore them to
the sepulchre of his fathers, when the Athenians return to their right
minds."
  And, indeed, a very little time and their own sad experience soon
informed them what an excellent governor, and how great an example and
guardian of justice and of temperance they had bereft themselves of.
And now they decreed him a statue of brass, and his bones to be buried
honourably at the public charge; and for his accusers, Agnonides
they took themselves, and caused him to be put to death. Epicurus
and Demophilus, who fled from the city for fear, his son met with, and
took his revenge upon them. This son of his, we are told, was in
general of an indifferent character, and once when enamoured of a
slave girl kept by a common harlot merchant, happened to hear
Theodorus, the atheist, arguing in the Lyceum, that if it were a
good and honourable thing to buy the freedom of a friend in the
masculine, why not also of a friend in the feminine, if, for
example, a master, why not also a mistress? So putting the good
argument and his passion together, he went off and purchased the
girl's freedom. The death which was thus suffered by Phocion revived
among the Greeks the memory of that of Socrates, the two cases being
so similar, and both equally the sad fault and misfortune of the city.


                                THE END
