Orationes 29
Orationes 29 Imperial Aelius Aristides GreekAs for accusing Nicias, men of Athens, and saying that from the very beginning he did not wish to sail out from here, and that now one of two things is true—either he makes the difficulties more and greater than they are by his account, or, if these things are most certainly as he says, he himself is wholly to blame—that I leave to another. For it is neither natural to a temperate man to be willing readily to accuse any citizen whatever, and to Nicias a larger portion of goodwill is owed from all of us, in accordance with what he has done, if we act justly. And that you may know, men of Athens, how far I stand from contentiousness or from grudging the man, I will make this my beginning. For there being two questions on which you deliberate—one, and the first, whether you must send for the army back, or send aid; the other, whether to relieve Nicias of his command or not, if the sending of aid prevails—I say that Nicias must hold command, in addition to those you may now choose, and that nothing must be done apart from him. And that it is neither possible to recall those out there, and that it is necessary to send those who will bring aid, hear these things. It is, then, first of all, men of Athens, part of my counsel to set aside the present despondency, reckoning that in nothing have matters out there come to such a state through us. For we have not been worsted by the enemy in our preparations, nor would we, surely, say that our men are inferior in nature; rather, on these accounts the affair would long ago have reached its conclusion, and would have been not worse than one might have prayed for. But the fact that the undertaking was not swift, and that the generals did not at once sail against Syracuse
itself, and that new things befell in the camp—Alcibiades having departed, Lamachus having died, and Gylippus having arrived—these are the things that have caused the wearing-away of time. For I fear nothing more, be it said with the gods' leave. For where would this counter-wall, which now troubles us, have been built up, had not the aid from Lacedaemon come? Or what leisure—not to say to fetch this aid, but any leisure to send for it—would the Syracusans ever have had, if someone had either then from the beginning pressed upon them, or, when the aid was arriving, those appointed had hindered it, had they perceived it beforehand and not given some opening to our forces, while affairs in Sicily stood on an equal footing? But as it is, partly the slowness of one man and of two, and partly the chance of the moment, has made us deliberate about things already accomplished; since in the main, by how much we have proved the stronger, Nicias himself bears witness.
For what purpose, then, do I now say these things? Not for the sake of accusing Nicias, nor because affairs are in a worse state than they are—whether it has come to this point in one way or another—but because it makes a very great difference with regard to the future. For if the enemy were altogether superior to us, even I myself would hesitate; but since in all things and everywhere we have prevailed over them, and rightly so, these partial setbacks can surely both be guarded against and set right for the future. Let us consider how many of the matters out there do not allow us to withdraw. First, men of Athens—and this is most common for all to see—that one must not undo what has been resolved, nor, like children, easily set one's heart on a thing and then offhandedly abandon it. For perhaps even among these Megarians here, and the Boeotians, and all who inhabit cities small or great, it holds strong that one must abide by what has been decided, and that the end of all disputes is the casting of the vote; yet this will appear fitting for none more than for you. For by as much as you are the wisest of the Greeks, and best both at reckoning for yourselves what is needful and at judging when another speaks, by so much the more must you inherit the shame, if you should appear to undo anything of what you have resolved. For one of two things must be: either, casting the first vote, to seem out of your senses, or to err in the second. And indeed,
neither can this be said—that few discussions about these matters took place among us at the beginning, or that we entrusted the whole to the small part of a single day. But the fact that even in the early stages of the war you voted both that the Syracusans were enemies and that aid should be brought to those of the Greeks out there who needed it, and the expeditions you sent for the sake of testing the whole matter—these I will pass over; but when we were planning to send this great armament, what argument was not spoken among us? Or what time was not spent? Or to which of all men did we not grant leave to speak? Who, even at the last, holding an assembly about the preparation itself, when Nicias came forward and again spoke against it from the beginning—almost the very things he now writes in his dispatch, that Sicily is large and neither easy to take nor to hold, if indeed we should acquire it . . . both things can be said, men of Athens. For we neither felt any anger at all, so as to prevent the speaking of one's views, and, having heard everything through, we resolved still better that we must sail. Reasonably so, men of Athens. For all such arguments far more urge on and stir up than hinder, as much as may be. For both the size of the island and the voyage round it is a prize worthy of the venture; and that those who hold it are of mixed origin and do not think alike is in our favour. For if they were all of one race, they would be hard both to win over and to compel to the end; but, being a confused medley gathered from every quarter, they hold for us the rank of allies no less than of enemies. For they would not act as one, so that the one side would have the others against them. For just as a city torn by faction, I think, is easier to subdue, so too an island that has been divided from the beginning. And further, men of Athens, before our fleet put in to Sicily, the Syracusans had some resource from their allies; but, with a place of refuge at hand, those who formerly hearkened to them out of necessity become unsafe partners in affairs if they remain, and troublesome enemies if they change sides;
and the war has shifted these things well. Now, then, in the face of the enemy's sudden good fortune and their seeming to have recovered beyond hope, they put on airs, having been hard pressed. But if again another armament should appear, you will soon find, men of Athens, that great and populous Sicily is yours.
To persuade you from the beginning to sail required, perhaps, even a longer examination; but now, looking at the facts themselves, one would find that you have deliberated everywhere both for your advantage, and on things not too great for you to accomplish, and not impossible to carry out. For we have mastered the sea as much as was at all possible, and no one could name any land battle among so many that have so far occurred that we have not won by a great margin. And yet how is it not absurd if, because we have won so many battles in a row, we shall think we ought not to take heart, but, because the one present battle did not go according to our mind, we shall set this down as a thing past escape? And shall the Syracusans know how to take heart, after so many continuous misfortunes, while we, for whom so many trophies stand erected over them, shall not do this same thing? And shall we not learn, from the very things in which we seem to have stumbled, that it is no good thing to give in easily? For come, in the name of Zeus, if someone among the Syracusans, when they were failing in everything one after another, had spoken, saying that they ought to make an end of the war and hand over their city to us, and had then persuaded them—is there any way that Gylippus would have come to them first, or, by Zeus, having come, would have had anything to do? And how could he? In no way. But as it is, I think, having stretched out their hopes and having always proved superior in spirit to the immediate difficulties, they have gained at least this much—that now the contest seems to be about equal terms for them. We must not, then, be more afraid because something of all things has gone according to their mind, but rather, making this very thing an example, must come vigorously to the aid of our affairs, so that we may not appear to hope for worse things than they—and that too, when all men have judged us not only the strongest at accomplishing what we resolve, but also as excelling most in difficulties—nor heedlessly throw away the gains that have come to us from the time past. And indeed, when, with Nicias
- in command—and he most opposed to the expedition—and with time wasted, we have nevertheless made use of so many advantages in the affair, it is plain that from the beginning we erred in nothing of what we voted. But if, again, with nothing so great gained for us beforehand, the trial had reason in it, it is plain that, now that we sit before Syracuse itself and the country round about is under us, another armament, peeping in, will easily accomplish all that remains. For do not suppose that the Syracusans, when Gylippus came with two triremes, took heart again, but that our own soldiers, when you send what force is reasonable, will not be far greater in spirit—men for whom, together with the sight of their kinsmen, also the consciousness of the multitude of things they have themselves achieved is a great pre-existing inclination toward good cheer.
And indeed, men of Athens, to have voted down the voyage from the beginning would have shown men who had exercised judgment; but, having not only voted for it, but also sent out so great a force, and having become conspicuous to all in what we intended, then to recall it—this will be a sign of two things to all, of folly and of cowardice: of folly, if we saw none of these things from the beginning; of cowardice, if we shall seem to be fleeing the Syracusans. And yet no gain among all things is so precious that for its sake we should submit to such shame—and that too being Athenians, for whom it is not so much a matter for consideration whether we shall suffer anything, as what we may do to be in a fair posture. Nor, again, could one say this—that there is anything we shall gain by now submitting to these and the like reproaches. For those who have been plotted against must necessarily be no less hostilely stirred up, whether we carry out the undertaking or not; but to the enmity we add the appearance of being inferior. Is it not, then, shame rather than gain that comes of flight? Not, at least, if you take my advice. But since the enmity is unavoidable, we shall make it cost some deed worthy of it, and we shall know this too—that by pressing on with what we have resolved we rid ourselves of enemies, but by running away from the affair we leave enemies behind for our own selves. Thus, by choosing the becoming course, we acquire the advantage along with it, while to the shameful course we draw on
- the harm. And let none of you reflect that, the circumstances not being alike, we first sent the expedition and shall now bring it back, if this prevails. For not even then did we send it trusting in the truce with the Lacedaemonians. And there is a great sign of this, men of Athens: for while the war still stood and long before the truce we set our hands to the affair. But what was it that made us eager for the expedition? The very thing, men of Athens, that is most just, and that everyone well-disposed to you joined in praying for: to take heart in our resources, and to think this addition fitting for our empire of the sea—an addition which was going to increase our own affairs by no small amount and to create many difficulties for the Peloponnese. We must not, then, consider whether we were at peace then, but whether it is to the advantage of the war's affairs that the things out there be in our hands; and that, if one must seek the very first things, it was at the height of the war that you resolved on this.
And indeed, neither the fortification nor the desertions are worth setting in our way. For if we were going to take those of us in Sicily and join battle with the Peloponnesians by land, this would be something; but if we must remain within the walls, then even if we send for twice as many, I do not see the gain that attaches to the recall—unless this too is most contrary of all to the siege, by which some say we are besieged: that all, gathered in the same place, should be idle. And I, for my part, think that not even the household slaves now run away despising our numbers, but partly trusting from the outset to escape notice, and partly thinking that, if once they get among the enemy, they will suffer nothing—and, in general, indulging the nature of slaves, which, just as in name, so also in wishes, is opposed to the masters. For in return for the good they receive, they hate and wish to exact a penalty where it were fitting to repay gratitude. And this is what it is not to be at all well-disposed toward one's masters. I, then, find the expedition better suited even with regard to the desertions themselves. For seeing
us ourselves running away, they will attack us in contempt; but if they perceive us taking heart, perhaps, should it chance, they would become better than their nature. And further, those of them whom we carry off in the ships will not be able there to do what they now do here; but just as now they go off to the enemy, who control the country, so there, when we in turn control the country and the enemy have suffered the same thing we have suffered here, they will have no way to change sides, but, by all likelihood, those from the enemy will rather come over to us. And apart from these things, we must not consider whether we shall endure any of all things, greater or lesser, but whether, enduring all these for great ends, we shall also collect the wage from the affair. For it is far better, I think, by later good services to dissolve the present difficulties, than both to be unable as yet to do these things and to withdraw willingly from those. And, on the whole, the carrying of affairs over to Sicily is consonant with the entire plan of the war. For if we had resolved to war against the Lacedaemonians in the manner they invited, the argument would be different; but as it is, what did we resolve from the beginning? To let them invade, and ourselves to use our ships, and not to prize the land too highly when it is ravaged, since we have much other land, but to press upon the Peloponnese—on the view that it is not fighting for what lies before our feet that will save our affairs, but harming their forces abroad.
Do not, then, think that what is accomplished in Sicily is any less to the advantage of the whole than sailing around the Peloponnese, nor that we could better draw off those at Decelea than by taking away their resources abroad. For if they shall be able neither to send to Sicily nor to receive anything from there, while for you, again, all these things will be put within your grasp, there is no way they could be better brought to an end, nor any way they could be more at a loss what to do. And indeed, if we value the Hellespont above Attica for the sake of the grain-supply, by how much is it likely we should value Sicily above the Hellespont? For the one secures for us the escort of the ships from the Pontus, while the other comes in place of both these regions; for it secures the safe conveyance of supplies from all Sicily as far as the Piraeus. And to those who take it ill at the affairs here and at the fortification of Decelea, first I would say this: that it is most absurd of all to give up the whole of Attica, yet to be vexed about the wall at Decelea, as though those from the wall were not having more trouble than we. And next, let us consider—and let the reproach turn against others—whether affairs now stand worse for the city and deserve more fears, or in that time when the Peloponnesians all came in person with their allies and ravaged the country, and the plague pressed upon us, making the dealings with the enemy seem peace by comparison, and everything was full of smoke, of conflagration, of destruction, the one outside, the other within the city. For I do not find that in the whole war we lost so many of our number—may it never befall otherwise, O Zeus the Saviour—as this disease destroyed. If, then, we had given up in grief and made peace, as some were urging us, is there any way that any of the many noble deeds done afterward would have been accomplished? It is not possible. But, I think, surpassing the present by reckoning, and entrusting the future to the better hopes, we won many naval battles, and at last, taking the enemy alive at Pylos, we brought them here with their very arms. Such are the gifts the war is willing to grant to those who are willing to toil and endure. And this not only we of the present have resolved, but there is also the very great example of our fathers, who gave up their children and wives and the city itself and the country, thinking nothing more fearful than to yield unworthily. But if, hearing that Athos was being cut through, or terrified at once by the Hellespont as in a tragedy, or even after that, when they had won the victories at Artemisium, being forced to flee into the interior of Greece on account of the multitude of ships coming on, they had reflected that they were toiling endlessly and that the war would close round them—and far more so when they now saw all
Attica full of enemies and fire—if they had not borne all these things nobly, both with their eyes and with their judgment, and beyond human nature, if one may say so, where would there have been so many trophies, where the leadership of the Greeks, where the very being of the Greeks at all? Which of these things, that—to speak of them as accomplished—it is not honourable to live without, would have come to pass? We must, then, using the examples at hand, not be inferior with regard to the future, knowing that ease and what is pleasant come of toils, and that the greatest deeds await the best men. And some say also, concerning the Egestaeans, that they lied in what they said about the money. But I, for my part, if it was for the Egestaeans' sake that we made this expedition, admit that the arguments against them must be accepted; but if the Egestaeans and Leontines furnished the pretext of the campaign, while the mixing-bowls belonged to men who wanted something else, and the rivalry was over a contest as far as Aegina, why do we talk nonsense about these things? For it is not because the Egestaeans have proved base toward us that on this account it is fitting for us also to follow suit; nor, because they lied under necessity, that on this account we too should deliberately vote against our own selves; nor, because we were disappointed in the affairs at Egesta, that we should willingly be deprived of the many other resources, in no way like those hoped for from them. But this much I still wish to say: if it was, men of Athens, in the money of the Egestaeans and in the hopes which they held out—if it was trusting in these, that there would be a sufficient resource for the war, that we were roused to campaign, then let us withdraw from Sicily, let us recall those out there, let every argument be worthless that does not agree with this. But if those men, being barbarians, made their additional promises in order to seem to be of some account, while for us the strength lay elsewhere . . . the argument remains.
Let us recall a certain deed of our own, bearing on the present. For there was once a time, men of Athens, when some were harrying the King's territory with three hundred triremes and even more, while others were besieging Aegina, and the Corinthians, emboldened, came to
Megara, intending either to draw off those at Aegina, or to take Megara bereft of defenders. But we found a third expedition, which Myronides led; and these were the oldest and the youngest of those in the city, and, joining battle with the Corinthians, we prevailed before Megara; and again, when they refused, another battle over the trophy. Looking to these things, and considering that daring has been granted to the city by good fortune, we must not, in fear, send for those from Sicily back here; for it is not those near the Prytaneum who will best guard Athens; but if there is need of further aid for those out there—as I, for one, do not deny—we must send a moderate force, and heal the waterlogged ships by reliefs, which will give them leisure to dry out, and not fear Gylippus as he gathers an army out of Sicily, but consider how some men, sent as a counter-embassy, may prevent it, or even procure us another force—one from Sicily itself, the other from wherever it may chance—and bid a strong farewell to those arguments which say that not even if we should take Sicily could we easily hold it. For I, men of Athens, should wish to hold Sicily already in such a way, since I suppose it the most suitable of all to possess securely. Let us look to the example of the King, who holds Cyprus, being so far distant not only from Cyprus but from the sea altogether, and that too through the navy of the Phoenicians; and, moreover, holds the very Phoenicians who possess the ships, while himself having no navy of his own, so to speak. And I forbear to mention the Cilicians and all this circuit. What, then, is the cause, men of Athens, that even if one is not strong in like means, but prevails in his whole power, he easily enslaves and holds all, using fear as his resource? On these arguments, men of Athens, no great empire would ever have arisen, if certain men had frightened those who undertook it, saying that not even if it succeeded would they hold it. But now, here above all, one might see most beautifully
how divine a thing empire is; for it saves itself. For just as in private households it is hard to deal with one or two slaves, but the many are a check upon one another, so too in dominions the multitude of the enslaved confirms the strength of those who have got the upper hand; for all in a circle fear one another. Thus, then, Sicily too, added to us who are here, will both be saved through these and will secure our affairs here, and will become, if one must speak the truth, a bond of the empire. For many men subdued, and of every kind of race, will have no place of refuge, but will count anything that is not an evil worse than the present as a windfall, having given up all hope. But here we should already be among fears; yet I see others nearer than these, if we should move the fleet now, men of Athens, out of Sicily. And I need not learn it from the oracles of Bacis nor of Amphilytus, but, myself knowing it well, I foretell to you that the Syracusans and the Selinuntines and all the enemies from there will come here, if we summon them. For we summon these no less than our own men, if we vote what some urge. For it will not suffice the Syracusans, if they have suffered nothing, but this they will reckon to fortune and to the Lacedaemonians who relieved them, while they will judge us to be enemies just as if we had subdued them, and that now alone it is possible to take vengeance.
And yet it is strange, men of Athens, if anyone judges it fearful for the city that our triremes are in the harbour of the Syracusans, but expects that the sailing of the Syracusans' and their allies' ships into the Piraeus would be, as it were, the salvation of our affairs. For if there is some guarantor to us that those men will keep quiet, and will not be willing to render the Lacedaemonians the same favour as these have now rendered them, let us consider that it is in our power to choose whichever of these we wish. But if we shall not so escape them that, wherever they may come against us, we shall not there be of necessity obliged to defend ourselves, why do we fill Attica with confusion, neglecting Sicily? And why do we transfer the war here, when it is possible to hold those men in check, so that neither willingly nor unwillingly they advance beyond their own land? Or is it troublesome for us to deliberate about them, but for it to be possible for them to deliberate about us no longer the uttermost of all evils?
And indeed, it is to be feared not only that we shall draw on the enemies from there, but that those here too will no longer seem worth as much as before. And I, for my part, am vexed if the Peloponnesians will not shrink from manning other ships for the sake of their men in Sicily, but we shall not dare to do so for our own selves. And of the generals we condemned Pythodorus and Sophocles to exile, and exacted money from the third of them, because they returned from Sicily and shared in the truce out there; but shall we ourselves bring back so great an army without accomplishment—an army which will have to be conveyed not under a truce, but, I am ashamed to say it, will be seen in flight? And yet, men of Athens, when we flee from men walled in, and when we run away from an island, counting safety a gain, where, in future, shall we make a stand? Or what war will there be henceforth? Shall we not recall, men of Athens, that day on which we sent off the ships, singing paeans, and setting up mixing-bowls, and imitating a procession and the thanksgiving for deeds accomplished? Shall we not be ashamed before this sun here, if it shall be witness for us of two things so unlike—then of such brilliance and pride, now of abasement? What spoils, men of Athens, shall they bring that we may receive them? Or what thank-offerings to the gods for their deeds? Or what victory-songs shall we sing together with them here? Or what rivalry will they contend in with one another as they sail up, like that of the other day? For they will be conveyed in nothing but silence and at the word of command, all but ashamed before the sea. Then, those who in the gymnastic contests give up before the right time, and unworthily, we all but hate—especially if they make their abandonment right at the very crown; but shall we ourselves, having taken up so great a contest, and having all but accomplished everything, having shut the Syracusans in, holding Sicily, with the crown all but in our hands—shall we then throw it away? Never, men of Athens. For know well, it will suffice that the second force be merely seen, and all the affairs of the Syracusans are gone; and they will profit so much by
Gylippus only as that the siege has become longer for themselves. But most absurd of all, if Nicias—than whom one could find no one more sluggish toward such things—has nevertheless put the choice in your hands, saying that one of two things remains, either to send others or to recall them, and has not taken away the hope once for all, and that too being himself the one who frightens, and, I will add, the one who was himself frightened from the very beginning—if you, who hear these things from him, and who then moved him against his will, shall condemn beforehand that there is no longer anything of the things out there to be held; by no means. But, recalling what was then said, and asking the over-cautious only this much—whether they held this opinion from the beginning, or were with you—if they shall say they think the same as you, consider them their own accusers by their change of front; but if they thought otherwise, consider them to err on both counts: on the one hand, if, before the vote . . . they ought to have advised taking it out; on the other, if they now press their point about matters in which they were defeated. And that you may know how much safety abides in this counsel, hear the sum of it. By withdrawing from there you will dissolve all hopes, and not even a dream of the affairs out there is left to you; but by sending the aid you will not fail of one of two things: for either you will hold Sicily, as I believe, or, if that is impossible, at least the possibility of sailing back here is preserved. And yet, when, even if the worse course prevails, this remains—the very thing which some now propose as best—how great must we think the difference between the two counsels to be? And we must send generals who, profiting by Nicias' age and experience, will overstep his sluggishness. And indeed what pleases me in the dispatch is this, that we must so act as not to come second after the enemy; for if we should get to the affair before them, one of two things follows: either they will not stir at all, or they will gain nothing more.