The other side of Demosthenes

The friends of my friends are my friends, the saying goes. This implies that the enemies of my friends are my enemies. This automatically applies to Demosthenes since he was not a friend of Alexander’s and consequently not a friend of mine (see: Philip vs. Demosthenes, an ongoing business). Yet I keep encountering Demosthenes in many museums, even in the most unexpected corners. From Athens, Rome, Naples, and Florence, to Tirana, Copenhagen, Harvard, Malibu, and New York; Antalya, Cyrene, and Cologne to the Louvre; from the British Museum to the Hermitage, and many more that do not immediately spring to mind.

Demosthenes is known in history as a prominent statesman and orator of ancient Athens. Born in 384 BC, he delivered his first judicial plea at the age of twenty to secure his inheritance, and by the time he was thirty, he made his first public political speech. In those days, the power of Athens was waning, and Demosthenes was most determined to restore the city’s supremacy. Athens was still a democracy where people had the final say in all matters through the Assembly, which would address the issues and vote by a show of hands. Another essential component was the Boule or Council, which would set the agenda of the Assembly and serve as its advisor by meeting daily. Several men used their rhetorical skills to address the people, among which we find Demosthenes. His greatest adversary, however, was to become King Philip of Macedonia, Alexander’s father.

During the Third Sacred War, which lasted from 356 to 346 BC (see: End of the Third Sacred War and Peace with Athens), the Greeks allowed Philip to raise a vast number of soldiers, including forces from Thessaly or other allies. His enemies had underestimated his power, and by the time this war ended, they could no longer stop him.

Frictions started as early as 351 BC, at least when Demosthenes warned the Athenians about the threat of Philip’s expansion policy in the north. Demosthenes wrote his first open letter to the Macedonian king, the first of his so-called  Philippics. This word has become proverbial since it still today applies to any fiery speech aimed to condemn the person in question (in this case, Philip).

Demosthenes became highly influential in Athens’ decision to support Olynthus, their ally, against Philip. He wrote an extensive speech for each individual call for help, known as the three Olynthiacs. These were all delivered in 349 BC, the first one calling the Athenians to organize an expedition and send it on its way, the second one complaining that Athens did not budge, and the third one being aimed at Philip, calling him a barbarian and warning his fellow-citizens that the Macedonian king would quickly seize more and more of their colonies. In his last Olynthiac, Demosthenes pled for a military intervention to rescue the Olynthians and called for a large naval and military force to destroy Philip’s territory. The orator didn’t convince his public until it was too late.

It is important to note that Demosthenes (and probably most Athenians) did not realize that the days of Athens’ polis system were counted. It was clear that Philip could make his decisions and act upon them immediately, while the Athenian system was slow, meaning that by the time they reached a conclusion, the entire context had changed. Philip wanted a treaty of peace and an alliance in which he and the Athenians were equals, something that did not sink in with the Athenians. In any case, in early April 346 BC, an embassy of ten men was sent to Pella to discuss ‘peace and the common interests of Athens and Philip (cf. Demosthenes). This would be the first of four embassies.

This story is very well told by Mary Renault in her book Fire from Heaven, featuring young Alexander. Ten envoys traveled to Pella when Alexander was about ten years old. Among them were great men like Philocrates, Nausicles, Demosthenes, and Aeschines. Each had prepared his speech on the proposed alliance and peace. They had decided to speak in order of age, the youngest last, and this happened to be Demosthenes after Aeschines, who tells us that he began “in a voice dead with fright, and after a brief narration of earlier events suddenly fell silent and was at a loss for words, … Seeing the state he was in, Philip encouraged him to take heart and not to suppose that he had suffered a complete catastrophe. … But Demosthenes … was now unable to recover; he tried once more to speak, and the same thing happened.” What an appearance for such an orator! Having listened graciously to every ambassador, Philip summarized his idea: a bilateral agreement between him and his allies on one side and Athens and their allies on the other.

Demosthenes was terribly frustrated by his flop at the Macedonian court, making a fool of himself in the presence of both Philip and Alexander. This frustration soon turned to anger and even hatred towards his first audience during such an important mission! He must have resented both kings simply because they had witnessed how helpless he had been!

When the embassy left, Philip sent Antipater, Parmenion, and Eurylochus to Athens to repeat his peace terms and receive Athens’ consent in return. The news was buzzing in Athens’ Assembly, which initially was inclined to accept Philip’s proposal. Still, Demosthenes had to give his own twist to the story as usual and persuaded the Assembly to go for a Common Peace in which every state was free to join. Of course, Antipater refused this when he was called in the next day, for those were not his king’s terms. Ultimately, the Athenians and their allies swore their oaths to peace and alliance with Macedonia – not a happy day for Demosthenes.

Yet Demosthenes was stubborn – or should we say determined? In 345 BC, he did all he could to sabotage the treaty with Philip, while Aeschines, on the other hand, tried by all means to keep it alive. As expected, Demosthenes had done his utmost to convince the Athenians that the peace treaty with Philip was worthless, using every trick in the book to manipulate his audience and distort Philip’s words. As a result, by 342/341 BC, the famous peace treaty collapsed entirely.

Meanwhile, as Philip was called to intervene in the Chersonese’s conflict with neighboring Cardia, he wrote many letters of complaint to Athens as they had violated their mutual peace treaty by attacking his allies and pirating the Macedonian merchant ships. Demosthenes, of course, took it personally, and his speeches ‘On the Chersonese’ and his next Philippic were wildly applauded and successful in Athens. The Athenians even went so far as to request support from the Persian King, who gave the ambassadors large sums of money, some of which eventually found its way into Demosthenes’ pocket. Philip was no fool and seized the Athenian corn fleet. Despite failing to secure the shipping route, Demosthenes was crowned for his services at the Theatre of Dionysus during the festival of 340 BC. The world of politics was as strange in antiquity as it is today!

Thebes was a constant headache, siding with Athens or Philip as they saw fit. In early 339 BC, they seized Nicaea at the entrance of the Pass of Thermopylae. By so doing, they blocked Philip’s access road to central Greece, not for long, though, for Philip immediately marched around Thermopylae, scaring the hell out of the Thebans and the Athenians. The situation escalated, eventually leading to the Battle of Chaeronea in August 338 BC. Demosthenes acted again and convinced the Athenians to join him in an alliance against Philip. It was one of his greatest diplomatic triumphs, although it came at a high cost, for there were many demands that Thebes required in exchange.

Demosthenes participated in the Battle of Chaeronea alongside his fellow Athenians. Still, as we know, Philip defeated them (with young Alexander in his left wing against the Theban Band!). Once the fight was over, Demosthenes barely escaped, and his glamorous orator career was over.

The next time Demosthenes comes to the foreground again is evidently after Philip’s death when he is said to have celebrated the king’s assassination. Aeschines tells us that at that time, Demosthenes was in the middle of a mourning ceremony for the death of his daughter. When he heard the news of Philip’s murder, he interrupted his mourning and instead put a garland on his head to make thank offerings to the gods – indeed, not the proper thing to do!

Despite such disrespectful behavior, the Athenians still admired Demosthenes and the orator Ctesiphon even suggested honoring his colleague for his services by presenting him with a golden crown! Lengthy debates followed and dragged on for at least six years since we know that in 330 BC, Aeschines prosecuted this same Ctesiphon for legal irregularities implying Demosthenes. The latter wrote his own defense, known to be his most brilliant speech, ‘On the Crown’ that inspired every statesman ever since. He successfully defended Ctesiphon and exploited the ruling feelings of frustrated patriotism, arguing that all he ever had done was for the honor of Athens and to prove his loyalty to his city.

While Alexander took care of the Thracian and Illyrian uprisings that erupted after his father’s death, Demosthenes spread the news that the young king and his army had been slaughtered. Thebes and Athens took their chances, and with money provided by the Persian King Darius, a new rebellion was financed (Demosthenes apparently received about 300 talents!). As soon as the news reached Alexander, he force-marched his army south and razed Thebes to the ground. He did not attack Athens but demanded that all the politicians openly against Macedonia be exiled, with Demosthenes on top of his list.  This never materialized, mainly because Alexander treated Athens with a privileged reverence.

But this is still not the end of Demosthenes’ grudge, for in 324 BC, he was only too happy to give refuge to the defecting Harpalos, one of Alexander’s companions who was in charge of the king’s treasury. The Athenian Assembly, following Demosthenes' advice, had decided not to allow him to enter the city primarily out of fear of Alexander’s possible reprisal since Harpalos clearly was an insurgent. Harpalos was taken in custody, and his treasure (well over 700 talents) was confiscated and entrusted to a special committee presided over by Demosthenes. Once the money was counted, the committee found only half the sum as declared by Harpalos. They decided not to make this fact public for the time being. However, when Harpalus escaped, they discovered that Demosthenes had mishandled twenty talents. During the trial that ensued, it transpired that there was a much larger deficit than these twenty talents and that Demosthenes had been bribed by Harpalos. Yet it remains unclear how much money Demosthenes had manipulated and for what purpose it was used. In the end, he was fined but refused to pay. For this reason, he was sent to prison but escaped in a manner not unlike Harpalos. From then onward, he lived in exile, first at Troezen and later at Aegina.

Even after Alexander died in 323 BC, Demosthenes could not resist urging the Athenians to eliminate Macedonian supremacy. He returned to Athens and mingled in the Lamian War, from which Antipater (still regent at Pella) appeared victorious. Finally, Antipater had had enough and demanded Demosthenes be surrendered to him. The Athenian Assembly, in fact, condemned the city’s anti-Macedonian agitators to death, and that included Demosthenes. The orator escaped and found refuge at a sanctuary on the island of Poros, where Antipater eventually tracked him down. Feeling totally cornered, Demosthenes took his own life using poison. He was 62 years old.

Years later, and for reasons beyond logical comprehension, Athens erected a statue in honor of their able orator, a tradition that has apparently been perpetrated over many centuries – hence the many statues of Demosthenes we still find in the many museums today.

Alexander in Athens

Alexander’s visit to Athens is one of those events that is generally overlooked when reading about his exploits, even by ancient historians.

After the Battle of Chaeronea in 338 BC where Alexander annihilated the Theban Band at the head of his father’s left wing, the young prince went to Athens together with Alcimachus and Philip’s weathered general and most probably senior diplomat, Antipater. Their goal was to negotiate peace with Athens, a highly sensitive matter that required serious political skills. They took with them the ashes of the cremated Athenians from the battlefield, as well as the two thousand Athenian prisoners made at Chaeronea for which no ransom was demanded. They only requested that an Athenian embassy would go to Philip to discuss a mutual peace.

For Antipater, this was not his first mission as envoy of King Philip and not his first mission to Athens either. During earlier negotiations for peace in 346 BC, Athens had sent a heavy embassy of ten men to Pella which was answered by Philip’s usual confusing diplomacy. What Philip really wanted was a treaty of peace and alliance where he and the Athenians were equals, something that probably did not sink in with the Athenians. As soon as the delegation including Philip’s sworn enemy Demosthenes left, the king set off for Thracia. In order to keep Athens on their toes he sent Antipater, together with Parmenion and Eurylochus to the city. Demosthenes, however, convinced the Assembly to go for a Common Peace in which every state was free to join. Antipater bluntly refused, because these were not his king’s terms. In the end, the Athenians and their allies had to comply and they swore their oaths to the peace and alliance to Macedonia.

Now, in 338 BC after the Battle of Chaeronea had ended all parties’ uncertainty whether to side up with Philip or with Athens, these two main players finally agreed on a treaty of friendship and alliance. The Athenians went even as far as conferring citizenship to Philip and Alexander, which by itself was not an exceptional gesture but it shows that they set a step forward in order to please the King of Macedonia. They even erected an equestrian statue of Philip on the Agora.

Unfortunately, we don’t have any details about Alexander’s visit. Was Alexander, only 18 years old, merely accompanying Antipater? Or was Alexander put in charge, upon instructions of his father and coached by Antipater? Or was Alexander’s presence at the negotiations simply part of his education, or maybe his presence added more weight to Antipater’s argumentation? We can speculate at length about any of these theories, but no answer will be conclusive, I’m afraid.

I also wonder where Alexander, with or without Antipater, met the Athenian delegation. The Pnyx is not a likely location for this is where the Athenian people gathered for their own democratic elections, which have nothing to do with foreign policy. The Theater of Dionysus sounds like an appropriate place in my eyes but it may be too large for the assembled company, so the smaller Bouleuterion on the Agora would offer a better alternative. Who knows?

It is pretty safe to assume that while in Athens Alexander walked up the Acropolis. The Parthenon, the Temple of Niké, and the Ereichteion would have shone in their freshly painted flamboyant colors. From there the young prince would have looked out over the harbor of Piraeus only 12 km away and beyond that all the way to the island of Salamis, just as we can today. Whether or not the meeting with the Athenian delegation took place at the Theater of Dionysus, I’m sure he would not have missed the opportunity to attend a play by one of the most popular protagonists at that time.

It is very difficult to look at Athens through Alexander’s eyes, simply because we hardly have any facts to go by. So, I just keep on wondering and dreaming …

Alexander vs. Parmenion

A good subject for debate, which I’m afraid cannot be settled to everyone’s satisfaction. Too many opinions from too many authors, too many interpretations by the old historians, and too many options to choose from. That is basically my conclusion. That is if you can call that a conclusion.

[picture from the movie by Oliver Stone]

Parmenion was a Paeonian chieftain who, during one of the campaigns led by King Philip II of Macedon, decided to rally to Macedonia's side. A clever choice from his side, no doubt, and the result was even better as he turned out to be a faithful brother-in-arms to Philip. On many occasions, he acted in Philip’s name, like when he went to Athens with Antipater and Eurylochus to repeat his king’s terms for the Common Peace in 346 BC. Six years later, when Alexander was elected Regent while Philip besieged Perinthus, Parmenion and Antipater remained in Pella to keep an eye on things. He was the one who ended the Fourth Sacred War, taking Amphissa within three hours. During the Battle of Chaeronea, the same veteran general was probably assisting Alexander’s cavalry upon Philip’s instructions.

All along his many fights, sieges, and diplomatic meetings, Philip essentially moved with Parmenion at his side. Yet at the same time, Philip formed a clique with his senior generals, Parmenion, Antipater, and Attalus, from which Alexander was excluded as they were bound together by several intermarriages (much to Alexander’s dismay, as one may imagine, and maybe a reason why he held on to his own group of Companions created during the days at Mieza).

Soon after Philip’s death, Attalus is executed to silence a possible claim to the Macedonian throne (his adopted niece had recently married Philip). When Alexander starts his march to Asia, he leaves Antipater behind as Regent while Parmenion joins his forces.

At this point, it is worth considering the extent of Parmenion’s power and influence over the army – a largely neglected viewpoint.

Parmenion was a man from the “old” stock, Philip’s foremost general and, let’s not forget, the one who played a highly pivotal role as commander of Alexander’s left wing in his battles at the Granicus, Issus, and Gaugamela. What has transpired from ancient authors is that Parmenion disagrees with Alexander’s decisions or plans on several occasions (there may have been more). No other veteran general has been recorded saying that much. We all will remember Alexander’s words: … yes, I would, if I were Parmenion... The fact that Alexander acted upon his own initiative, brushing Parmenion’s advice aside and coming out victorious from the many confrontations, cannot have gone down smoothly.

Steven English, in his “The Sieges of Alexander the Great,”  draws the picture of an all-powerful Parmenion, a seasoned fighter with thorough experience. Besides that, the key positions in the army were occupied by his relatives: sons, allies, kindred, friends, etc. It is entirely possible that he saw himself as the successor of Philip. In his eyes, the young and inexperienced Alexander was not a true competitor. Big mistake, of course. He probably didn’t expect Alexander to win all his battles as he did, and maybe he even hoped that the young king would soon be killed – in which case, he was well prepared with his own trusted network of men.

Jona Lendering (see Livius site) is even blunter as he declares that Philotas (Parmenion’s son, accused of conspiracy) confessed under the force of torture that he and his father had wanted to kill Alexander to rule themselves. I don’t know where he found that statement, but it is a plausible assumption.

Robin Lane Fox (“Alexander the Great”), in turn, paints a picture where Parmenion constitutes a severe threat to Alexander. The worrying situation occurred in 330 BC at Ecbatana, where the general controls his king’s supply line with Macedonia while Alexander is fighting in Bactria. Parmenion, already in his seventies, keeps ignoring Alexander’s orders for three months to come to Gurgan. The fact by itself is strange enough, but just consider that on the one hand, Parmenion is sitting on the enormous Persian treasury collected in Susa and Persepolis, which Alexander centralized at Ecbatana, and on the other hand, he has an army of 25,000 men strong at his disposal: Thracians, veteran-mercenaries, Thessalian and Paeonian cavalry, plus another 6,000 men Foot Companions who protected the very money transport. Alexander, at that time, had “only” 30,000 soldiers with him, i.e., approximately the same amount of manpower. In any case, these figures alone are enough to give the King severe headaches and many a sleepless night, no doubt.

Pierre Briant, in his book “Alexander the Great and his Empire,” has a totally different view, stating that Alexander committed a brutal act when he sent a commando to explicitly murder Parmenion in Ecbatana. He doubts that Philotas is guilty of conspiracy, so it is evident that he disagrees with Parmenion’s execution. Briant feels that from 330 BC, Alexander no longer wanted to tolerate Parmenion’s meddling as his vision of his new world had changed (becoming more Persian).

In any case, the accusations and the trial of Philotas were handled the Macedonian way, where every man had his say. Philotas was eventually condemned to death. Under Macedonian law, relatives were equally responsible for the crimes committed by any family member. This implied his father, Parmenion, who occupied a crucial position in Ecbatana and was empowered by the Persian treasury, with a large army force. Alexander applied the Macedonian law, which his generals and soldiers could understand. Still, he may have seized this convenient opportunity to eliminate a possible threat to his person and his crown.

Personally, I am convinced that, in 330 BC, Alexander had become a different person from the young king who came to power at age twenty. The years of heavy fighting and sieges, long marches through hostile lands and deserts, river crossings, logistical problems, rivalry, and jealousy among his officers, and conspiracies, while he was constantly alert about the moves of his Persian opponent (only in 330 BC King Darius III was captured more dead than alive), etc. were enough elements to change any man. In the process, he became the Great King of a vast empire that had functioned for eons according to its own rules and principles. Aware of these differences and oppositions, we owe it to Alexander’s genius that he makes considerable efforts to comply with the customs of both East and West.

All along the historical accounts, we read how the soldiers from the old Macedonian guard still live by the rules of their homeland. These are men who fought with King Philip (and Parmenion) and who became great at his side, men worthy of the great battlefields like those of Chaeronea and Gaugamela. We like to see an army that carries Alexander on its hands. They do, yet only to a certain degree, i.e., as long as their king follows the known old, proven Macedonian traditions. But once in Bactria and Sogdiana, everything changes. There are no great battles to be fought, only heavy skirmishes, surprise attacks, and guerrilla wars. The men grow tired – no wonder. Inevitably, conflicts arise. His soldiers, even his generals, can’t understand how the newly conquered enemy suddenly has to be accepted as friendly mates filling the ranks of their dead comrades. Yet it is clear that Alexander needed to replace those thousands of men left behind on the battlefields, in the newly founded towns, in the strongholds and forts along the way, in the heat of the deserts, or in the waters of the many rivers, the wounded men, the invalids, the veterans. The logistics of Alexander’s campaign in Asia are simply beyond anyone’s comprehension, even today – so how much could be asked from the simple Macedonian soldier?

Some authors like to throw in the ideal image of Alexander, aiming at melting east and west together to create an impossible dream world. I believe there were limits, even to his ambition. I’m sure Alexander found the world much bigger and far more different than he could ever have imagined. He was very well aware that life in Asia evolved according to rules and values away from those he grew up with. Yet he was a visionary, and his visions ran far ahead of his time. Nobody could understand the complex amplitude of his world, I think, nobody except maybe Hephaistion.

Even today, we still struggle to understand …