which part he stands—­not in his language, remember, but in his life.  Now all, I think, will allow that these attributes should belong to a friend of the constitution:  First, that he should be of free descent by both parents so that the disadvantage of birth may not embitter him against those laws which preserve the democracy.  Second, that he should be able to show that some benefit has been done to the people by his ancestors; or, at the worst, that there had been no enmity between them which would prompt him to revenge the misfortunes of his fathers on the State.  Third, he should be virtuous and temperate in his private life, so that no profligate expense may lead him into taking bribes to the hurt of the people.  Next, he should be sagacious and able to speak—­since our ideal is that the best course should be chosen by the intelligence and then commended to his hearers by the trained eloquence of the orator, —­though, if we cannot have both, sagacity must needs take rank before eloquence.  Lastly, he must have a stout heart or he may play the country false in the crisis of danger or of war.  The friend of oligarchy must be the opposite of all this.  I need not repeat the points.  Now, consider:  How does Demosthenes answer to these conditions?

[After accusing Demosthenes of being by parentage half a Scythian, Greek in nothing but language, the orator proceeds:  ]—­

In his private life, what is he?  The tetrarch sank to rise a pettifogger, a spendthrift, ruined by his own follies.  Then having got a bad name in this trade, too, by showing his speeches to the other side, he bounded on the stage of public life, where his profits out of the city were as enormous as his savings were small.  Now, however, the flood of royal gold has floated his extravagance.  But not even this will suffice.  No wealth could ever hold out long against vice.  In a word, he draws his livelihood not from his own resources but from your dangers.  What, however, are his qualifications in respect to sagacity and to power of speech?  A clever speaker, an evil liver!  And what is the result to Athens?  The speeches are fair; the deeds are vile!  Then as to courage I have a word to say.  If he denied his cowardice or if you were not aware of it, the topic might have called for discussion, but since he himself admits in the assemblies and you know it, it remains only to remind you of the laws on the subject.  Solon, our ancient lawgiver, thought the coward should be liable to the same penalties as the man who refuses to serve or who has quitted his post.  Cowardice, like other offenses, is indictable.