Thucydides In the same winter the
Athenians, following their annual custom, gave a public funeral for those
who had been the first to die in the war. These funerals are held in the
following way: two days before the ceremony the bones of the fallen are
brought and put in a tent which has been erected, and people make whatever
offerings they wish to their own dead. Then there is a funeral procession
in which coffins of cypress wood are carried on wagons. There is one
coffin for each tribe, which contains the bones of members of that tribe.
One empty bier is decorated and carried in the procession: this is for the
missing, whose bodies could not be recovered. Everyone who wishes to, both
citizens and foreigners, can join in the procession, and the women who are
related to the dead are there to make their laments at the tomb. The bones
are laid in the public burial-place, which is in the most beautiful
quarter outside the city walls. Here the Athenians always bury those who
have fallen in war. The only exception is those who died at Marathon, who,
because their achievement was considered absolutely outstanding, were
buried on the battlefield itself. When
the bones have been laid in the earth, a man chosen by the city for his
intellectual gifts and for his general reputation makes an appropriate
speech in praise of the dead, and after the speech all depart. This is the
procedure at these burials, and all through the war, when the time came to
do so, the Athenians followed this ancient custom. Now, at the burial of
those who were the first to fall in the war Pericles, the son of
Xanthippus, was chosen to make the speech. When the moment arrived, he
came forward from the tomb and, standing on a high platform, so that he
might be heard by as many people as possible in the crowd, he spoke as
follows:— ‘Many
of those who have spoken here in the past have praised the institution of
this speech at the close of our ceremony. It seemed to them a mark of
honour to our soldiers who have fallen in war that a speech should be made
over them. I do not agree. These men have shown themselves valiant in
action, and it would be enough, I think, for their glories to be
proclaimed in action, as you have just seen it done at this funeral
organized by the state. Our belief in the courage and manliness of so many
should not be hazarded on the goodness or badness of one man’s speech.
Then it is not easy to speak with a proper sense of balance, when a
man’s listeners find it difficult to believe in the truth of what one is
saying. The man who knows the facts and loves the dead may well think that
an oration tells less than what he knows and what he would like to hear:
others who do not know so much may feel envy for the dead, and think the
orator over-praises them, when he speaks of exploits that are beyond their
own capacities. Praise of other people is tolerable only up to a certain
point, the point where one still believes that one could do oneself some
of the things one is hearing about. Once you get beyond this point, you
will find people becoming jealous and incredulous. However, the fact is
that this institution was set up and approved by our forefathers, and it
is my duty to follow the tradition and do my best to meet the wishes and
the expectations of every one of you. ‘I
shall begin by speaking about our ancestors, since it is only right and
proper on such an occasion to pay them the honour of recalling what they
did. In this land of ours there have always been the same people living
from generation to generation up till now and they, by their courage and
their virtues, have handed it on to us, a free country. They certainly
deserve our praise. Even more so do our fathers deserve it. For to the
inheritance they had received they added all the empire we have now, and
it was not without blood and toil that they handed it down to us of the
present generation. And then we ourselves. assembled here today, who are
mostly in the prime of life, have, in most directions, added to the power
of our empire and have organized our State in such a way that it is
perfectly well able to look after itself both in peace and in war. ‘I
have no wish to make a long speech on subjects familiar to you all: so I
shall say nothing about the warlike deeds by which we acquired our power
or the battles in which we or our fathers gallantly resisted our enemies,
Greek or foreign. What I want to do is, in the first place, to discuss the
spirit in which we faced our trials and also our constitution and the way
of life which has made us great. After that I shall speak in praise of the
dead, believing that this kind of speech is not inappropriate to the
present occasion, and that this whole assembly, of citizens and
foreigners, may listen to it with advantage. ‘Let
me say that our system of government does not copy the institutions of our
neighbours. It is more the case of our being a model to others, than of
our imitating anyone else. Our constitution is called a democracy because
power is in the hands not of a minority but of the whole people. When it
is a question of settling private disputes, everyone is equal before the
law; when it is a question of putting one person before another in
positions of public responsibility, what counts is not membership of a
particular class, but the actual ability which the man possesses. No one,
so long as he has it in him to be of service to the state, is kept in
political obscurity because of poverty. And, just as our political life is
free and open, so is our day-to-day life in our relations with each other.
We do not get into a state with our next-door neighbour if he enjoys
himself in his own way, nor do we give him the kind of black looks which,
though they do no real harm, still do hurt people’s feelings. We are
free and tolerant in our private lives; but in public affairs we keep to
the law. This is because it commands our deep respect. ‘We
give our obedience to those whom we put in positions of authority, and we
obey the laws themselves, especially those which are for the protection of
the oppressed, and those unwritten laws which it is an acknowledged shame
to break. ‘And
here is another point. When our work is over, we are in a position to
enjoy all kinds of recreation for our spirits. There are various kinds of
contests and sacrifice regularly throughout the year; in our own home we
find a beauty and a good taste which delight us every day and which drive
away our cares. Then the greatness of our city brings it about that all
the good things from all over the world flow in to us, so that to us it
seems just as natural to enjoy foreign goods as our own local products. ‘Then
there is a great difference between us and our opponents, in our attitude
towards military security. Here are some examples: Our city is open to the
world, and we have no periodical deportations in order to prevent people
observing or finding out secrets which might be of military advantage to
the enemy. This is because we rely, not on secret weapons, but on our own
real courage and loyalty. There is a difference, too, in our educational
systems. The Spartans, from their earliest boyhood, are submitted to the
most laborious training in courage; we pass our lives without all these
restrictions, and yet are just as ready to face the same dangers as they
are. Here is a proof of this: When the Spartans invade our land, they do
not come by themselves, but bring all their allies with them; whereas we,
when we launch an attack abroad, do the job by ourselves, and, though
fighting on foreign soil, do not often fail to defeat opponents who are
fighting for their own hearths and homes. As a matter of fact none of our
enemies has ever yet been confronted with our total strength, because we
have to divide our attention between our navy and the many missions on
which our troops are sent on land. Yet, if our enemies engage a detachment
of our forces and defeat it, they give themselves credit for having thrown
back our entire army; or, if they lose, they claim that they were beaten
by us in full strength. There are certain advantages, I think, in our way
of meeting danger voluntarily, with an easy mind, instead of with a
laborious training, with natural rather than with state-induced courage.
We do not have to spend our time practicing to meet sufferings which are
still in the future; and when they are actually upon us we show ourselves
just as brave as these others who are always in strict training. This is
one point in which, I think, our city deserves to be admired. There are
also others: ‘Our
love of what is beautiful does not lead to extravagance; our love of the
things of the mind does not make us soft. We regard wealth as something to
be properly used, rather than as something to boast about. As for poverty,
no one need be ashamed to admit it: the real shame is in not taking
practical measures to escape from it. Here each individual is interested
not only in his own affairs but in the affairs of the state as well: even
those who are mostly occupied with their own business are extremely
well-informed on general politics—this is a peculiarity of ours: we do
not say that a man who takes no interest in politics is a man who minds
his own business; we say that he has no business here at all. We
Athenians, in our own persons, take our decisions on politics or submit
them to proper discussions: for we do not think that there is an
incompatibility between words and deeds; the worst thing is to rush into
action before the consequences have been properly debated. And this is
another point where we differ from other people. We are capable at the
same time of taking risks and of estimating them beforehand. Others are
brave out of ignorance; and, when they stop to think, they begin to fear.
But the man who can most truly be accounted brave is he who best knows the
meaning of what is sweet in life and of what is terrible, and then goes
out undeterred to meet what is to come. ‘Again,
in questions of general good feeling there is a great contrast between us
and most other people. We make friends by doing good to others, not by
receiving good from them. This makes our friendship all the more reliable,
since we want to keep alive the gratitude of those who are in our debt by
showing continued goodwill to them: whereas the feelings of one who owes
us something lacks the same enthusiasm, since he knows that, when he
repays our kindness, it will be more like paying back a debt than giving
something spontaneously. We are unique in this. When we do kindnesses to
others, we do not do them out of any calculations of profit or loss: we do
them without afterthought, relying on our free liberality. Taking
everything together then, I declare that our city is an education to
Greece, and I declare that in my opinion each single one of our citizens,
in all the manifold aspects of life, is able to show himself the rightful
lord and owner of his own person, and do this, moreover, with exceptional
grace and exceptional versatility. And to show that this is no empty
boasting for the present occasion, but real tangible fact, you have only
to consider the power which our city possesses and which has been won by
those very qualities which I have mentioned. Athens, alone of the states
we know, comes to her testing time in a greatness that surpasses what was
imagined of her. In her case, and in her case alone, no invading enemy is
ashamed at being defeated, and no subject can complain of being governed
by people unfit for their responsibilities. Mighty indeed are the marks
and monuments of our empire which we have left. Future ages will wonder at
us, as the present age wonders at us now. We do not need the praises of a
Homer, or of anyone else whose words may delight us for the moment, but
whose estimation of facts will fall short of what is really true. For our
adventurous spirit has forced an entry into every sea and into every land;
and everywhere we have left behind us everlasting memorials of good done
to our friends or suffering inflicted on our enemies. ‘This,
then, is the kind of city for which these men, who could not bear the
thought of losing her, nobly fought and nobly died. It is only natural
that every one of us who survive them should be willing to undergo
hardships in her service. And it was for this reason that I have spoken at
such length about our city, because I wanted to make it clear that for us
there is more at stake than there is for others who lack our advantages;
also I wanted my words of praise for the dead to be set in the bright
light of evidence. And now the most important of these words has been
spoken. I have sung the praises of our city; but it was the courage and
gallantry of these men, and of people like them, which made her splendid.
Nor would you find it true in the case of many of the Greeks, as it is
true of them, that no words can do more than justice to their deeds. ‘To
me it seems that the consummation which has overtaken these men shows us
the meaning of manliness in its first revelation and in its final proof.
Some of them, no doubt, had their faults; but what we ought to remember
first is their gallant conduct against the enemy in defense of their
native land. They have blotted out evil with good, and done more service
to the commonwealth than they ever did harm in their private lives. No one
of these men weakened because he wanted to go on enjoying his wealth: no
one put off the awful day in the hope that he might live to escape his
poverty and grow rich. More to be desired than such things, they chose to
check the enemy’s pride. This, to them, was a risk most glorious, and
they accepted it, willing to strike down the enemy and relinquish
everything else. As for success or failure, they left that in the doubtful
hands of Hope, and when the reality of battle was before their faces, they
put their trust in their own selves. In the fighting, they thought it more
honorable to stand their ground and suffer death than to give in and save
their lives. So they fled from the reproaches of men, abiding with life
and limb the brunt of battle; and, in a small moment of time, the climax
of their lives, a culmination of glory, not of fear, were swept away from
us. ‘So
and such they were, these men worthy of their city. We who remain behind
may hope to be spared their fate, but must resolve to keep the same daring
spirit against the foe. It is not simply a question of estimating the
advantages in theory. I could tell you a long story (and you know it as
well as I do) about what is to be gained by beating the enemy back. What I
would prefer is that you should fix your eyes every day on the greatness
of Athens as she really is, and should fall in love with her. When you
realize her greatness, then reflect that what made her great was men with
a spirit of adventure, men who knew their duty, men who were ashamed to
fall below a certain standard. If they ever failed in an enterprise, they
made up their minds that at any rate the city should not find their
courage lacking to her, and they gave to her the best contribution that
they could. They gave her their lives, to her and to all of us, and for
their own selves they won praises that never grow old, the most splendid
of sepulchers not the sepulcher in which their bodies are laid, but where
their glory remains eternal in men’s minds, always there on the right
occasion to stir others to speech or to action. For famous men have the
whole earth as their memorial: it is not only the inscriptions on their
graves in their own country that mark them out; no, in foreign lands also,
not in any visible form but in people’s hearts, their memory abides and
grows. It is for you to try to be like them. Make up your minds that
happiness depends on being free, and freedom depends on being courageous.
Let there be no relaxation in face of the perils of the war. The people
who have most excuse for despising death are not the wretched and
unfortunate, who have no hope of doing well for themselves, but those who
run the risk of a complete reversal in their lives, and who would feel the
difference most intensely, if things went wrong for them. Any intelligent
man would find a humiliation caused by his own slackness more painful to
bear than death, when death comes to him unperceived, in battle, and in
the confidence of his patriotism. ‘For
these reasons I shall not commiserate with those parents of the dead, who
are present here. Instead I shall try to comfort them. They are well aware
that they have grown up in a world where there are many changes and
chances. But this is good fortune for men to end their lives with honour,
as these have done, and for you honourably to lament them: their life was
set to a measure where death and happiness went hand in hand. I know that
it is difficult to convince you of this. When you see other people happy
you will often be reminded of what used to make you happy too. One does
not feel sad at not having some good thing which is outside one’s
experience: real grief is felt at the loss of something which one is used
to. All the same, those of you who are of the right age must bear up and
take comfort in the thought of having more children. In your own homes
these new children will prevent you from brooding over those who are no
more, and they will be a help to the city, too, both in filling the empty
places, and in assuring her security. For it is impossible for a man to
put forward fair and honest views about our affairs if he has not, like
everyone else, children whose lives may be at stake. As for those of you
who are now too old to have children, I would ask you to count as gain the
greater part of your life, in which you have been happy, and remember that
what remains is not long, and let your hearts be lifted up at the thought
of the fair fame of the dead. One’s sense of honour is the only thing
that does not grow old, and the last pleasure, when one is worn out with
age, is not, as the poet said, making money, but having the respect of
one’s fellow men. ‘As
for those of you here who are sons or brothers of the dead, I can see a
hard struggle in front of you. Everyone always speaks well of the dead,
and, even if you rise to the greatest heights of heroism, it will be a
hard thing for you to get the reputation of having come near, let alone
equaled, their standard. When one is alive, one is always liable to the
jealousy of one’s competitors, but when one is out of the way, the
honour one receives is sincere and unchallenged. ‘Perhaps
I should say a word or two on the duties of women to those among you who
are now widowed. I can say all I have to say in a short word of advice.
Your great glory is not to be inferior to what God has made you, and the
greatest glory of a woman is to be least talked about by men, whether they
are praising you or criticizing you. I have now, as the law demanded, said
what I had to say. For the time being our offerings to the dead have been
made, and for the future their children will be supported at the public
expense by the city, until they come of age. This is the crown and prize
which she offers, both to the dead and to their children, for the ordeals
which they have faced. Where the rewards of valour are the greatest, there
you will find also the best and bravest spirits among the people. And now,
when you have mourned for your dear ones, you must depart.’ In
this way the public funeral was conducted in the winter that came at the
end of the first year of the war. At the beginning of the following summer
the Peloponnaians and their allies, with two-thirds of their total forces
as before, invaded Attica, again under the command of the Spartan King
Archidamus, the son of Zeuxidamus. Taking up their positions, they set
about the devastation of the country. |