object, in fact, of the law of Leptines was, it might be contended, to insure for Athens the due performance of services which she had a right to claim from every citizen of ample means. The burden, he argued, ought to fall on all such; no exemptions ought to be granted, as it was likely they would be granted unwisely, and the examples of other states, such as Sparta and Thebes, showed that these grants were unnecessary. Besides, merit at Athens was rewarded in other ways; and in sweeping away such rewards as these, they would be really abolishing what was not needed by the possessors, and was at the same time injurious to the State. Thus the new law seemed on the surface a good one, and must have enlisted popular sympathy. It promised to get rid of invidious privileges, to distribute public burdens equitably, and to provide for the celebration of the festivals and games with becoming splendour.
The occasion was thus clearly one to task all the powers of an opposition speaker. If we want a modern analogy, we may suppose a motion brought forward in the House of Commons in a time of national distress, when every tax would be acutely felt, to abolish all pensions ever granted to deserving men and to their children. It is conceivable that such a proposition might find supporters at a trying crisis, and become a powerful party-cry. Demosthenes may well have had an uphill battle to fight. But he took the right ground, and rested his case on the highest moral principles and the most enlightened view of political expediency. The faith and honour of the State, he maintained, must be superior to all other
