Against Meidias

Demosthenes

Demosthenes. Vol. III. Orations, XXI-XXVI. Vince, J. H., translator. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1935 (printing).

And now please call the witnesses to attest the truth of these statements also.

The Witnesses

We, Lysimachus of Alopece, Demeas of Sunium, Chares of Thoricus, Philemon of Sphetta, Moschus of Paeania, know that at the date when the indictment was presented to the Council charging Aristarchus, the son of Moschus, with the murder of Nicodemus, Meidias, who is now being tried at the suit of Demosthenes, for whom we appear, came before the Council and stated that Aristarchus, and no one else, was the murderer of Nicodemus, and he advised the Council to go to the house of Aristarchus and arrest him. This he said to the Council, having dined on the previous day with Aristarchus in our company. We also know that Meidias, when he came from the Council after making this statement, again entered the house of Aristarchus and shook hands with him and, invoking destruction on his own head, swore that he had said nothing in his disparagement before the Council, and he asked Aristarchus to reconcile Demosthenes to him.

Can anything go beyond that? Has there ever been, or could there ever be, baseness to compare with this of Meidias? He felt justified in informing against that unfortunate man, who had done him no wrong—I waive the fact that he was his friend—and at the same time he was begging him to bring about a reconciliation between himself and me; and not content with this, he spent money on an iniquitous attempt to procure my banishment as well as that of Aristarchus.

Yet this habit of his, Athenians, this scheme of involving in yet greater calamities all who stand up against him in just defence, is not something that might well rouse indignation and resentment in me, but that the rest of you should overlook. Far from it. All citizens alike should be stirred to anger, when they reflect and observe that it is exactly the poorest and weakest of you that run the greatest risk of being thus wantonly wronged, while it is the rich blackguards that find it easiest to oppress others and escape punishment, and even to hire agents to put obstacles in the path of justice.

Such conduct must not be overlooked. It must not be supposed that the man who by intimidation tries to debar any citizen from obtaining reparation for his wrongs is doing less than robbing us of our liberties and of our right of free speech. Perhaps I and one or two others may have managed to repel a false and calamitous charge and so have escaped destruction; but what will the vast majority of you do, if you do not by a public example make it a dangerous game for anyone to abuse his wealth for such a purpose?

When the accused man has rendered an account of his actions and has stood his trial on the charges brought against him, then he may retaliate upon unjust assailants; but even then he must not try to spirit away some witness of his ill deeds, nor to escape a trial by bringing false charges; he must not count it a grievance to submit to justice, but must avoid all outrageous conduct from the first.

Men of Athens, you have now heard how many outrages I endured, both in my own person and in the performance of my public service, and how many escapes I have had from plots and ill-treatment of every kind. Yet I have omitted much, for it was not easy perhaps to mention everything. But the case is this. By none of his acts was I alone wronged, but in the wrongs inflicted on the chorus my whole tribe, the tenth part of the citizens, shared; by his plots and attacks against me he wronged the laws, to which each of you looks for protection;lastly by all these acts he wronged the god to whose service I had been dedicated and that divine and awful power beyond our ken—the power of Holiness.

Those who would exact from him an adequate punishment for his misdeeds must not let their indignation be checked by the reflection that I alone am concerned, but must base the penalty on the ground that all alike are victims of the same wrong—the laws, the gods, the city of Athens; and they must look upon those who support him and are marshalled in his defence as something more than mere advocates, as men who set the seal of their approval to his acts.

Now if, men of Athens, Meidias had in other respects behaved with decency and moderation, if he had never injured any other citizen, but had confined his brutality and violence to me, I might, in the first place, consider this a piece of my own bad luck, and, in the second place, I should be afraid lest, by pointing to the moderation and humanity of the rest of his life, he might so evade punishment for his outrage on me.

But as it is, the wrongs that he has done to many of you are so many and so great that I am relieved of this apprehension; my fear is now, on the contrary, that when you hear of the terrible wrongs that others have suffered at his hands, some such argument as this may occur to you. What have you to complain of? Have you suffered more than each of his other victims? Now all that he has done, I could not relate to you, nor would you have the patience to listen, even if I were allowed for the rest of my speech all the time assigned to both of us: all my time and all his in addition would not suffice. I will confine myself to the most important and clearest examples.

Or rather, this is what I propose to do. I will read you all my memoranda, just as I wrote them out for my own use. I will take first whatever incident you would like to hear first; next your second choice, and so on, as long as you care to listen. There is no lack of variety; plenty of examples of assault, of kinsmen swindled, and of sacrilege. There is not a single passage where you will not find that he has committed many crimes worthy of death.

Memoranda of the Crimes of Meidias

That, gentlemen of the jury, is how he has treated everyone that comes across his path. I have omitted other instances, for no one could compress into a single narrative the violent acts that he has spent a lifetime in committing. But it is worth while noticing to what a height of audacity he has advanced in consequence of his never having been punished for any of these acts. He seems to have thought that no act that one man can commit against an individual was brilliant or dashing enough or worth risking his life for, and unless he could affront a whole tribe or the Council or some class of citizens and harass vast multitudes of you at once, he felt that life was really not worth living.[*](He that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. (Shakespeare,Hen. 4. Pt. 1. 2. 4. 115).)

And as to other instances, innumerable as they are, I say nothing, but as regards the cavalry which was dispatched to Argura, and of which he was one, you all know of course how he harangued you on his return from Chalcis, blaming the troop and saying that its dispatch was a scandal to the city. In connection with that, you remember too the abuse that he heaped on Cratinus, who is, I understand, going to support him in the present case. Now if he provoked such serious but groundless quarrels with so many citizens at once, what degree of wickedness and recklessness may we expect from him now?

But I should like to ask you, Meidias, which was the greater scandal to the city—the men who crossed to Chalcis in due order, and with the equipment proper to those who were to take the field against the enemy and to join forces with our allies, or you, who, when lots were drawn for the expedition, prayed that you might draw a blank, who never donned your cuirass, who rode on a saddle with silver trappings, imported from Euboea, taking with you your shawls and goblets and wine-jars, which were confiscated by the customs? We of the infantry learned this by report, for we had not crossed at the same point as the cavalry.

And then, because Archetion or someone chaffed you on the subject, must you annoy them all? If you did what your fellow-troopers say you did, Meidias, and what you complain of them for saying, then you deserved their reproaches, because you were bringing harm and disgrace both on them and on these jurymen here and on all the city. But if you did not do it and it was all a fabrication, and if the rest of the soldiers, instead of reproving the slanderers, chuckled over you, it only shows that from your general manner of life they thought that such a story exactly fitted you. It was yourself, then, that you ought to have kept more under control, instead of accusing the others.

But you threaten all, you bully all. You insist that everyone else shall consult your wishes; you do not your self consult how to avoid annoying others. Yes, and what seems to me the most damning proof of your audacity is this: you come forward, you shameless ruffian, and include all these men in one sweeping accusation. Anyone else would have shuddered at the thought of doing such a thing.

I observe, gentlemen, that in all other trials the defendants are charged with one or two offences only, but they can rely on any number of appeals, such as these: Does anyone in court know me to be capable of this? Who among you has ever seen me commit these offences? No one. The plaintiffs are libelling me out of spite. I am the victim of false testimony, and so on. But with Meidias the case is just the reverse;

for I suppose you all know his way of life, his arrogance and his superciliousness, and I even suspect that some have long marvelled at things which they know themselves, but have not heard from my lips today. But I note that many of his victims are reluctant to disclose in evidence all that they have suffered, because they realize his violence and his persistence and the extent of those resources which make him so powerful and so dreaded, despicable though he is.

For a man whose wickedness and violence are supported by power and wealth is fortified against any sudden attack. So this fellow, if he were deprived of his property, would perhaps discontinue his outrages, or if not, he will be of less account in your courts than the most insignificant criminal; for then he will rail and bluster to deaf ears, and for any act of gross violence he will pay the penalty like the rest of us.

But now, I believe, his champions are Polyeuctus and Timocrates and the ragamuffin Euctemon. Such are the mercenaries that he keeps about him; and there are others besides, an organized gang of witnesses, who do not openly force themselves upon you, but readily give a silent nod of assent to his lies. I do not of course imagine that they make anything out of him, but there are some people, men of Athens, who are strangely prone to abase themselves towards the wealthy, to attend upon them, and to give witness in their favour.

All this, I expect, is alarming for the rest of you as individuals, depending each upon his own resources; and that is why you band yourselves together, so that when you find yourselves individually inferior to others, whether in wealth or in friends or in any other respect, you may together prove stronger than any one of your enemies and so check his insolence.