Philippic 2

Nevertheless, said I, after a brief enjoyment of other men’s territory, they have long been robbed by Philip of their own, expelled with contumely, not merely vanquished but betrayed, bought and sold by their own country-men. For truly such close communications with tyranny corrupt good constitutions.

And what of the Thessalians? Do you imagine, I said, that when he was expelling their despots, or again when he was presenting them with Nicaea and Magnesia, they ever dreamed that a Council of Ten[*](According to Dem. 9.26 Philip set up tetrarchies in Thessaly. The two accounts may be reconciled by assuming that he retained the old fourfold division of the country, but set up an oligarchy of ten in each division. Philip, whose policy was to divide and conquer, would be unlikely to centralize the government. It is just possible that δεκαδαρχίαν may be a mistaken amplification of Δ᾽αρχίαν=τετραρχίαν, but in that case the singular would be strange. Owing to the decarchies which Lysander imposed on so many free cities at the end of the Peloponnesian war, the number ten would have the same sinister associations in Greece as it had at Rome and at Venice.) would be established among them, as it is today, or that the same man who restored to them the Amphictyonic meeting at Thermopylae would also appropriate their own peculiar revenues? Impossible! But so it came to pass, as all men may know.

You, I said, gaze with wonder at Philip as he gives away this and promises that, but if you are truly wise, pray that you may never find that he has deceived and cozened you. Verily, I said, there are manifold means devised by states for protection and safety—stockades, ramparts, fosses and the like.

And all these are wrought by hand and entail expense. But there is one common bulwark which the instinct of sensible men possesses within itself, a good and safe one for all, but invaluable for democracies against tyrants. And what is that bulwark? It is mistrust. Guard that; hold fast to that. If you preserve it, no harm can touch you.

What is your object? I said. Freedom. Then do you not see that Philip’s very titles are utterly irreconcilable with that? For every king, every despot is the sworn foe of freedom and of law. Beware, said I, lest, seeking to be rid of war, you find a master.

That is what I said to them, and they shouted their approval; and they heard many other speeches from the envoys, both in my presence and again later, as it seems; but they are none the more likely to do without Philip’s friendship and Philip’s promises.

And, indeed, it is not strange that Messenians and other Peloponnesians should sometimes act against their better judgement; but you, who know, both from your own intelligence and from our speeches, how you are compassed about with plots and snares, you will, as it seems to me, find to your surprise that through having done nothing in time, you have submitted to everything. So much does the pleasure and ease of the moment prevail over that which at some future time is likely to be advantageous.

On your practical measures you will, if you are wise, deliberate hereafter by yourselves[*](i.e. when the foreign envoys have withdrawn. At this point, if not at the end of the speech, the proposed answer was read. This is not indicated in the MSS.); at present I will suggest the immediate answer which it would be proper for you to adopt.

Answer

It would indeed have been fair, men of Athens, to call upon those who conveyed to you Philip’s promises,[*](The audience might fairly call upon men like Aristodemus, Ctesiphon, and Neoptolemus (Dem. 19.13, Dem. 19.315) to explain how they came to make themselves responsible for these promises, to which Philip had not actually committed himself.) on the strength of which you were induced to conclude the Peace.

For I should never myself have consented to serve on the embassy, nor would you, I am sure, have suspended military operations, if you had imagined that Philip after securing peace would act as he has done; but his words at the time were very different from his present actions. Yes, and there are others who ought to be called upon. Whom do I mean? The men who, when peace was made and when I, returning from the second embassy—that sent to administer the oaths—found that the state was being imposed upon, and spoke out and protested and refused to give up Thermopylae and the Phocians—

the men,[*](Aeschines and, in particular, Philocrates (Dem. 19.46).) I say, who told you that I, being a water-drinker, was naturally a disagreeable, cross-grained fellow, and that Philip, if he got through the Pass, would do just what you would pray for, would fortify Thespiae and Plataea, and humble the Theban pride, and dig a trench across the Chersonese[*](To protect the Greek cities from the raids of the Thracians.) at his own charges, and restore to you Euboea and Oropus in lieu of Amphipolis. All this was said from this very platform, as I am sure you recollect, although you are not remarkable for keeping in mind those who injure you.

And the crowning disgrace is that your posterity also is bound by the same peace which these hopes prompted you to conclude; so completely were you led astray. Why do I mention this now and assert that these men ought to be called upon? I vow that I will boldly tell you the whole truth and keep nothing back.

It is not that by descending to abuse I may lay myself open to retaliation in your presence,[*](The Greek is difficult, and editors are of many minds. The usual meaning of λόγον ποιεῖν, to grant a hearing, seems impossible here. Perhaps the literal meaning is cause speech against myself in your presence on equal terms, i.e. give my enemies an opening to reply in the same style, which, Demosthenes hints, would be an insult to his audience.) while I give those who from the first have fallen foul of me an excuse for making further profit out of Philip. Nor do I wish to indulge in idle talk. But I think that one day Philip’s policy will cause you more distress than it does now,

for I see the plot thickening. I hope I may prove a false prophet, but I fear the catastrophe is even now only too near. So when you can no longer shut your eyes to what is happening, when you do not need me or someone else to tell you, but can all see for yourselves and be quite certain that all this is directed against you, then I expect you will be angry and exasperated.

Yes, I am afraid that, since the ambassadors have kept silence about the services for which they know they have been bribed, those who are trying to repair some of the losses that these men have caused may chance to fall under your displeasure; for I observe that people vent their wrath as a rule, not on those who are to blame, but chiefly on those who are within their reach.

Now therefore, while the danger is in the future and is gathering head, while we can still hear one another speak, I want to remind each one of you, however clearly he knows it, who it is that persuaded you to abandon the Phocians and Thermopylae, the command of which gave Philip the command also of the road to Attica and the Peloponnesus, and who it is that has forced you to take counsel, not for your rights and interests abroad, but for your possessions here at home and for the war in Attica, a war which will bring distress on every one of us, when it does come, but which really dates from that very day.

For if you had not been hoodwinked then, there would be no anxiety in Athens, because Philip could never, of course, have gained command of the sea and reached Attica with his fleet, nor could he have marched past Thermopylae and Phocis, but either he would have acted fairly and observed the Peace by keeping quiet, or he would have been instantly engaged in a war similar to that which made him so anxious for the Peace.

Enough has now been said by way of reminder. May all the gods forbid that my warnings should ever be brought to the sternest test! For I would not willingly see one man suffer, even though he deserve to perish, if his punishment involves the danger and the damage of all.