Philippic 1

Personally I am surprised that none of you, Athenians, is distressed and angry to find that at the beginning of the war our aim was to punish Philip, but at the end it is to escape injury at his hands. But surely it is obvious that he will not stop, unless someone stops him. And is that what we are to wait for? Do you fancy that all is well, if you dispatch an unmanned fleet and the vague hope of some deliverer?

Shall we not man the fleet ourselves? Shall we not take the field with at least a proportion of native troops, even now, if never before? Shall we not sail against his territory? Where then are we to go and anchor? someone has asked. The progress of the war, men of Athens, will itself discover the weak places in his front, if we make the effort; but if we sit here at home listening to the abuse and mutual recriminations of the orators, there is not the slightest chance of our getting anything done that ought to be done.

Wherever, I believe, we send out a force composed partly or wholly of our citizens, there the gods are gracious and fortune fights on our side; but wherever you send out a general with an empty decree and the mere aspirations of this platform, your needs are not served, your enemies laugh you to scorn, your allies stand in mortal fear of such an expeditionary force.

It is impossible, utterly impossible for one man ever to do all that you want done; he can only promise[*](Editors detect a special allusion here. The promises of Chares had become proverbial.) and assent and throw the blame on someone else. In consequence our interests are ruined. For when your general leads wretched, ill-paid mercenaries, and finds plenty of men here to lie to you about what he has done, while you pass decrees at random on the strength of these reports, what are you to expect?

How then is all this to be stopped? As soon as you, men of Athens, definitely appoint the same men as soldiers and as eye-witnesses of the campaign, and, on their return, as jurymen at the audit of your generals. In this way you will not merely learn about your affairs by hearsay, but you will be witnesses on the spot. So scandalous is our present system that every general is tried two or three times for his life in your courts, but not one of them dares to risk death in battle against the enemy; no, not once. They prefer the doom of a kidnapper or a pickpocket to a fitting death; for malefactors are condemned to the gallows, generals should die on the field of honor.

Some of us spread the rumor that Philip is negotiating with the Lacedaemonians for the overthrow of Thebes and the dissolution of the free states, others that he has sent an embassy to the Great King, others that he is besieging towns in Illyria; in short, each of us circulates his own piece of fiction.

Truly, men of Athens, I do think that Philip is drunk with the magnitude of his achievements and dreams of further triumphs, when, elated by his success, he finds that there is none to bar his way; but I cannot for a moment believe that he is deliberately acting in such a way that all the fools at Athens know what he is going to do next. For of all fools the rumor-mongers are the worst.