On the Chersonese

but you—have you never cleared away these obstacles, even if you had no further ambitions, and have you tamely submitted? Undoubtedly you have stood aside from his path and made it abundantly clear that, were he to die ten times over, you at least will make no further move. Then why do you pester us with your embassies and your complaints? If these are their words, what are we to say, Athenians? How are we to answer? For my part, I cannot tell.

Now there are some who think they confute a speaker the moment they ask, What then ought we to do? To these I will give the fairest and truest answer: not what you are doing now. I will not, however, shrink from going carefully into details; only they must be as willing to act as they are eager to question.

First, men of Athens, you must fix this firmly in your minds, that Philip is at war with us and has broken the peace. Yes, let there be no more wrangling over that question. He is ill-disposed and hostile to the whole city and to the very soil on which the city stands,

and, I will add, to every man in the city, even to those who imagine that they stand highest in his good graces. If they doubt it, let them look at Euthycrates and Lasthenes, the Olynthians, who thought they were such bosom-friends of his, and then, when they had betrayed their city, met the most ignominious fate of all. The chief object, however, of his arms and his diplomacy is our free constitution; on nothing in the world is he more bent than on its destruction.

And it is in a way natural that he should act thus. For he knows for certain that even if he masters all else, his power will be precarious as long as you remain a democracy; but if ever he meets with one of the many mischances to which mankind is liable, all the forces that are now under restraint will be attracted to your side.

For nature has not equipped you to seek aggrandizement and secure empire, but you are clever at thwarting another’s designs and wresting from him his gains, and quick to confound the plots of the ambitious and to vindicate the freedom of all mankind. Therefore he does not want to have the Athenian tradition of liberty watching to seize every chance against himself. Far from it! Nor is his reasoning here either faulty or idle.

This, then, is the first thing needful, to recognize in Philip the inveterate enemy of constitutional government and democracy, for unless you are heartily persuaded of this, you will not consent to take your politics seriously. Your second need is to convince yourselves that all his activity and all his organization is preparing the way for an attack on our city, and that where any resistance is offered to him, that resistance is our gain.

For no man is so simple as to believe that though Philip covets these wretched objects in Thrace—for what else can one call Drongilus and Cabyle and Mastira and the other places that he is now occupying and equipping?—and though he endures toil and winter storms and deadly peril for the privilege of taking them,

yet he does not covet the Athenian harbors and dockyards and war-galleys and silver mines and the like sources of wealth, but will allow you to retain them, while he winters in that purgatory for the sake of the rye and millet of the Thracian store-pits. It is not so, but it is to win these prizes that he devotes his activities to all those other objects.