[_Introduction_. After settling affairs at Delphi in 346, Philip
returned to Macedonia. During a considerable part of 345 and in the
early months of 344 he was occupied with campaigns against the
Illyrians, Dardani, and Triballi. But in the summer (probably) of 344
he resumed his activities in Greece, garrisoning Pherae and other towns
of Thessaly with Macedonians, appropriating the revenues derived from
the Thessalian ports, and establishing oligarchical governments
throughout the country. At the same time negotiations were going on
between himself and Athens with regard to the Thracian strongholds
which he had captured in 346. He refused to give these up, though he
offered to cut a canal across the Chersonese, for the protection of the
Athenian allies there from the attacks of the Thracians. He also sent
money and mercenaries to help the Messenians and Argives, who, like the
Megalopolitans, were anxious to secure their independence of Sparta.
Athens, which was on friendly terms with Sparta, sent envoys to the
Peloponnesian states to counteract Philip's influence, and of these
Demosthenes was one. In return, Argos and Messene complained to Athens
of her interference with their attempt to secure freedom, and Philip
sent envoys to deprecate the charges made against him by the Athenian
ambassadors in the Peloponnese. He pointed out that he had not broken
any promises made to Athens at the time of the Peace, for he had made
none. (In fact, if Demosthenes' account is correct, he had confined
himself to vague expressions of goodwill; the promises had been made by
Aeschines.) The Second Philippic, spoken late in 344, proposes a reply
to Philip, the text of which has unfortunately not come down to us. The
Peloponnesian envoys appear also to have been in Athens at the time;
and Philip's supporters had put forward various explanations of his
conduct at the time when the Peace was made. To these also Demosthenes
replies.]
{1} In all our discussions, men of Athens, with regard to the acts of
violence by which Philip contravenes the terms of the Peace, I observe
that, although the speeches on our side are always manifestly just and
sympathetic,[n] and although those who denounce Philip are always
regarded as saying what ought to be said, yet practically nothing is
done which ought to be done, or which would make it worth while to
listen to such speeches. {2} On the contrary, the condition of public
affairs as a whole has already been brought to a point at which, the
more and the more evidently a speaker can convict Philip both of
transgressing the Peace which he made with you and of plotting against
all the Hellenes, the harder it is for him to advise you how you should
act. {3} The responsibility for this rests with us all, men of Athens.
It is by deeds and actions, not by words, that a policy of encroachment
must be arrested: and yet, in the first place, we who rise to address
you will not face the duty of proposing or advising such action, for
fear of unpopularity with you, though we dilate upon the character of
Philip's acts, upon their atrocity, and so forth; and, in the second
place, you who sit and listen, better qualified though you doubtless
are than Philip for using the language of justice and appreciating it
at the mouths of others, are nevertheless absolutely inert, when it is
a question of preventing him from executing the designs in which he is
now engaged. {4} It follows as the inevitable and perhaps reasonable
consequence, that you are each more successful in that to which your
time and your interest is given--he in actions, yourselves in words.
Now if it is still enough for you, that your words are more just than
his, your course is easy, and no labour is involved in it. {5} But if
we are to inquire how the evil of the present situation is to be
corrected; if its advance is not still to continue, unperceived, until
we are confronted by a power so great that we cannot even raise a hand
in our own defence; then we must alter our method of deliberation, and
all of us who speak, and all of you who listen, must resolve to prefer
the counsels which are best, and which can save us, to those which are
most easy and most attractive.
{6} I am amazed, men of Athens, in the first place, that any one who
sees the present greatness of Philip and the wide mastery which he has
gained, can be free from alarm, or can imagine that this involves no
peril to Athens, or that it is not against you that all his
preparations are being made. And I would beg you, one and all, to
listen while I put before you in a few words the reasoning by which I
have come to entertain the opposite expectation, and the grounds upon
which I regard Philip as an enemy; that so, if my own foresight appears
to you the truer, you may believe me; but if that of the persons who
have no fears and have placed their trust in him, you may give your
adhesion to them. {7} Here then, men of Athens, is my argument. Of
what, in the first place, did Philip become master, when the Peace was
concluded? Of Thermopylae, and of the situation in Phocis. Next, what
use did he make of his power? He deliberately chose to act in the
interests of Thebes, not in those of Athens. And why? He scrutinized
every consideration in the light of his own ambition and of his desire
for universal conquest: he took no thought for peace, or tranquillity,
or justice; {8} and he saw quite correctly that our state and our
national character being what they are, there was no attraction that he
could offer, nothing that he could do, which would induce you to
sacrifice any of the other Hellenes to him for your own advantage. He
saw that you would take account of what was right; that you would
shrink from the infamy attaching to such a policy; that you would
exercise all the foresight which the situation demanded, and would
oppose any such attempt on his part, as surely as if you were at open
war with him. {9} But the Thebans, he believed--and the event proved
that he was right--in return for what they were getting would let him
do as he pleased in all that did not concern them; and far from acting
against him, or preventing him effectively, would even join him in his
campaign, if he bade them. His services to the Messenians and the
Argives at the present moment are due to his having formed the same
conception of them. And this, men of Athens, is the highest of all
tributes to yourselves: {10} for these actions of his amount to a
verdict upon you, that you alone of all peoples would never, for any
gain to yourselves, sacrifice the common rights of the Hellenes, nor
barter away your loyalty to them for any favour or benefit at his
hands. This conception of you he has naturally formed, just as he has
formed the opposite conception of the Argives and the Thebans, not only
from his observation of the present, but also from his consideration of
the past. {11} He discovers, I imagine, and is told, how when your
forefathers might have been rulers of the rest of the Hellenes, on
condition of submitting to the king themselves, they not only refused
to tolerate the suggestion, on the occasion when Alexander [n], the
ancestor of the present royal house, came as his herald to negotiate,
but chose rather to leave their country and to face any suffering which
they might have to endure; and how they followed up the refusal by
those deeds which all are so eager to tell, but to which no one has
ever been able to do justice; and for that reason, I shall myself
forbear to speak of them, and rightly; for the grandeur of their
achievements passes the power of language to describe. He knows, on the
other hand, how the forefathers of the Thebans and Argives, in the one
case, joined the barbarian army, in the other, offered no resistance to
it. {12} He knows, therefore, that both these peoples will welcome what
is to their own advantage, instead of considering the common interests
of the Hellenes: and so he thought that, if he chose you for his
allies, he would be choosing friends who would only serve a righteous
cause; while if he joined himself to them, he would win accomplices who
would further his own ambitions. That is why he chose them, as he
chooses them now, in preference to you. For he certainly does not see
them in possession of more ships than you; nor has he discovered some
inland empire, and withdrawn from the seaboard and the trading-ports;
nor does he forget the words and the promises, on the strength of which
he was granted the Peace.
{13} But some one may tell us, with an air of complete knowledge of the
matter, that what then moved Philip to act thus was not his ambition
nor any of the motives which I impute to him, but his belief that the
demands of Thebes were more righteous than your own. I reply, that this
statement, above all others, is one which he cannot possibly make
_now_. How can one who is ordering Sparta to give up Messene put
forward his belief in the righteousness of the act, as his excuse for
handing over Orchomenus and Coroneia to Thebes?
{14} 'But,' we are told (as the last remaining plea), 'he was forced to
make these concessions, and did so against his better judgement,
finding himself caught between the cavalry of Thessaly and the infantry
of Thebes.' Admirable! And so, we are informed, he intends henceforth
to be wary of the Thebans, and the tale goes round that he intends to
fortify Elateia [n]. 'Intends,' indeed! and I expect that it will
remain an intention! {15} But the help which he is giving to the
Messenians and Argives is no 'intention'; for he is actually sending
mercenaries to them and dispatching funds, and is himself expected to
arrive on the spot with a great force. Is he trying to annihilate the
Spartans, the existing enemies of Thebes, and at the same time
protecting the Phocians, whom he himself has ruined? Who will believe
such a tale? {16} For if Philip had really acted against his will and
under compulsion in the first instance--if he were now really intending
to renounce the Thebans--I cannot believe that he would be so
consistently opposing their enemies. On the contrary, his present
course plainly proves that his former action also was the result of
deliberate policy; and to any sound observation, it is plain that the
whole of his plans are being organized for one end--the destruction of
Athens. {17} Indeed, this has now come to be, in a sense, a matter of
necessity for him. Only consider. It is empire that he desires, and
you, as he believes, are his only possible rivals in this. He has been
acting wrongfully towards you for a long time, as he himself best
knows; for it is the occupation of your possessions that enables him to
hold all his other conquests securely, convinced, as he is, that if he
had let Amphipolis and Poteidaea go, he could not dwell in safety even
at home. {18} These two facts, then, he well knows--first, that his
designs are aimed at you, and secondly, that you are aware of it: and
as he conceives you to be men of sense, he considers that you hold him
in righteous detestation: and, in consequence, his energies are roused:
for he expects to suffer disaster, if you get your opportunity, unless
he can anticipate you by inflicting it upon you. {19} So he is wide
awake; he is on the alert; he is courting the help of others against
Athens--of the Thebans and those Peloponnesians who sympathize with
their wishes; thinking that their desire of gain will make them embrace
the immediate prospect, while their native stupidity will prevent them
from foreseeing any of the consequences. Yet there are examples,
plainly visible to minds which are even moderately
well-balanced[n]--examples which it fell to my lot to bring before
Messenian and Argive audiences, but which had better, perhaps, be laid
before yourselves as well.
{20} 'Can you not imagine,' I said, 'men of Messenia, the impatience
with which the Olynthians used to listen to any speeches directed
against Philip in those times, when he was giving up Anthemus to
them--a city claimed as their own by all former Macedonian kings; when
he was expelling the Athenian colonists from Poteidaea and presenting
it to the Olynthians; when he had taken upon his own shoulders their
quarrel with Athens, and given them the enjoyment of that territory?
Did they expect, do you think, to suffer as they have done? if any one
had foretold it, would they have believed him? {21} And yet,' I
continued, 'after enjoying territory not their own for a very short
time, they are robbed of their own by him for a great while to come;
they are foully driven forth--not conquered merely, but betrayed by one
another and sold; for it is not safe for a free state to be on these
over-friendly terms with a tyrant. {22} What, again, of the
Thessalians? Do you imagine,' I asked, 'that when he was expelling
their tyrants, or again, when he was giving them Nicaea and Magnesia,
they expected to see the present Council of Ten[n] established in their
midst? Did they expect that the restorer of their Amphictyonic rights
would take their own revenues from them for himself? Impossible! And
yet these things came to pass, as all men may know. {23} You
yourselves,' I continued, 'at present behold only the gifts and the
promises of Philip. Pray, if you are really in your right minds, that
you may never see the accomplishment of his deceit and treachery. There
are, as you know well,' I said, 'all kinds of inventions designed for
the protection and security of cities--palisades, walls, trenches, and
every kind of defence. {24} All these are made with hands, and involve
expense as well. But there is one safeguard which all sensible men
possess by nature--a safeguard which is a valuable protection to all,
but above all to a democracy against a tyrant. And what is this? It is
distrust. Guard this possession and cleave to it; preserve this, and
you need never fear disaster. {25} What is it that you desire?' I said.
'Is it freedom? And do you not see that the very titles that Philip
bears are utterly alien to freedom? For a king, a tyrant, is always the
foe of freedom and the enemy of law. Will you not be on your guard,' I
said, 'lest in striving to be rid of war, you find yourselves
slaves?'[n]
{26} My audience heard these words and received them with a tumult of
approbation, as well as many other speeches from the envoys, both when
I was present and again later. And yet, it seems, there is still no
better prospect of their keeping Philip's friendship and promises at a
distance. {27} In fact, the extraordinary thing is not that Messenians
and certain Peloponnesians should act against their own better
judgement, but that you who understand for yourselves, and who hear us,
your orators, telling you, that there is a design against you, and that
the toils are closing round you--that you, I say, by always refusing to
act at once, should be about to find (as I think you will) that you
have exposed yourselves unawares to the utmost peril: so much more does
the pleasure and ease of the moment weigh with you, than any advantage
to be reaped at some future date.
{28} In regard to the practical measures which you must take, you will,
if you are wise, deliberate by yourselves[n] later. But I will at once
propose an answer which you may make to-day, and which it will be
consistent with your duty to have adopted.
[_The answer is read._]
Now the right course, men of Athens, was to have summoned before you
those who conveyed the promises[n] on the strength of which you were
induced to make the Peace. {29} For I could never have brought myself
to serve on the Embassy, nor, I am sure, would you have discontinued
the war, had you imagined that Philip, when he had obtained peace,
would act as he has acted. What we were then told was something very
different from this. And there are others, too, whom you should summon.
You ask whom I mean? After the Peace had been made, and I had returned
from the Second Embassy, which was sent to administer the oaths, I saw
how the city was being hoodwinked, and I spoke out repeatedly,
protesting and forbidding you to sacrifice Thermopylae and the
Phocians: {30} and the men to whom I refer were those who then said
that a water-drinker[n] like myself was naturally a fractious and
ill-tempered fellow; while Philip, if only he crossed the Pass, would
fulfil your fondest prayers; for he would fortify Thespiae and
Plataeae; he would put an end to the insolence of the Thebans; he would
cut a canal through the Chersonese at his own charges, and would repay
you for Amphipolis by the restoration of Euboea and Oropus. All this
was said from this very platform, and I am quite sure that you remember
it well, though your memory of those who injure you is but short. {31}
To crown your disgrace, with nothing but these hopes in view, you
resolved that this same Peace should hold good for your posterity also;
so completely had you fallen under their influence. But why do I speak
of all this now? why do I bid you summon these men? By Heaven, I will
tell the truth without reserve, and will hold nothing back. {32} My
object is not to give way to abuse, and so secure myself as good a
hearing[n] as others in this place, while giving those who have come
into collision with me from the first an opportunity for a further
claim[n] upon Philip's money. Nor do I wish to waste time in empty
words. {33} No; but I think that the plan which Philip is pursuing will
some day trouble you more than the present situation does; for his
design is moving towards fulfilment, and though I shrink from precise
conjecture, I fear its accomplishment may even now be only too close at
hand. And when the time comes when you can no longer refuse to attend
to what is passing; when you no longer hear from me or from some other
that it is all directed against you, but all alike see it for
yourselves and know it for a certainty; then, I think, you will be
angry and harsh enough. {34} And I am afraid that because your envoys
have withheld from you the guilty secret of the purposes which they
have been bribed to forward, those who are trying to remedy in some
degree the ruin of which these men have been the instruments will fall
victims to your wrath. For I observe that it is the general practice of
some persons to vent their anger, not upon the guilty, but upon those
who are most within their grasp. {35} While then the trouble is still
to come, still in process of growth, while we can still listen to one
another's words, I would remind each of you once more of what he well
knows--who it was that induced you to sacrifice the Phocians and
Thermopylae, the control of which gave Philip command of the road to
Attica and the Peloponnesus; who it was, I say, that converted your
debate about your rights and your interests abroad into a debate about
the safety of your own country, and about war on your own borders--a
war which will bring distress to each of us personally, when it is at
our doors, but which sprang into existence on that day. {36} Had you
not been misled by them, no trouble would have befallen this country.
For we cannot imagine that Philip would have won victories by sea which
would have enabled him to approach Attica with his fleet, or would have
marched by land past Thermopylae and the Phocians; but he would either
have been acting straightforwardly--keeping the Peace and remaining
quiet; or else he would have found himself instantly plunged into a war
no less severe than that which originally made him desirous of the
Peace. {37} What I have said is sufficient by way of a reminder to you.
Heaven grant that the time may not come when the truth of my words will
be tested with all severity: for I at least have no desire to see any
one meet with punishment, however much he may deserve his doom, if it
is accompanied by danger and calamity to us all.