On the Embassy (51-55)

Philip, however, did send you two letters of summons. Yes, but not with the intention that you should take the field. That is certain; otherwise he would not have destroyed your opportunity of going out before he summoned you, nor would he have detained me when I wanted to sail home, nor ordered Aeschines to make statements calculated to deter you from going out. No, his object was that you, in the belief that he would do all that you wanted, should make no decree prejudicial to him, and the Phocians might not stand their ground and hold out in reliance upon hopes afforded by you, but might make unconditional surrender to him in sheer desperation. Read Philip’s actual letters.

(The two Letters are read)

These letters, then, do summon you,—yes, indeed, at last![*] But if there had been any honesty in the letters, it was clearly the duty of these men to exhort you to take the field, and to propose that Proxenus, whom they knew to be in those parts, should at once march to the aid of Philip. Their actual policy was very different. Naturally; for they did not apply their minds to the phrasing of the letter; they were in the secret of the intention with which it was written, and with that intention they concurred and cooperated.

When therefore the Phocians learned your policy from the proceedings of the Assembly, received the decree of Philocrates, and were informed of the report and promises of Aeschines, their ruin was complete. Just consider. There were some men in Phocis, sensible men, who had no confidence in Philip. They were induced to trust him. Why? Because they conceived that, though Philip had deceived them ten times over, he would never have dared to deceive Athenians and envoys of the Athenian people, that the report of Aeschines was true, and that destruction had overtaken not themselves but the Thebans.

There were others who were ready at all hazards to hold out to the end; but even they were mollified by the persuasion that Philip was their friend, and that, if they refused compliance, you, from whom they were expecting succor, would turn against them. A third party supposed that you regretted your treaty of peace with Philip; but they were now informed that you had actually decreed an extension of the treaty to Philip’s descendants, and so they abandoned all hope of your assistance. And that is why these men packed all those provisions into one decree.

In my judgement they could not have done you a more grievous injury. To turn their treaty of peace with a mortal man, a mere potentate of occasion, into a covenant of immortal ignominy for the commonwealth; to strip their city of all she had, even of the largess of her good fortune; in the veriest extravagance of malice to heap injuries not only on the Athenians of today but upon all who shall hereafter be Athenians,—is not that an appalling iniquity?