Against Meidias

Now I know that he will set up a wail, with his children grouped about him, and will make a long and humble appeal, weeping and making himself as pitiable a figure as he can. But the more he humiliates himself, Athenians, the more he deserves your hatred. Why so? If in his past life he was so brutal and violent because it was impossible for him to be humble, it would be right to abate some of your anger as a concession to his natural temper and to the destiny that made him the man he is; but if he knows how to behave discreetly when he likes, but has deliberately chosen the opposite line of conduct, it is surely obvious that, if he slips through your fingers now, he will once more prove himself the man you know so well.

Pay no attention to him; do not let the present crisis in his affairs, expressly invented by him, carry more weight and influence with you than the whole course of his life, of which you have direct knowledge. I have no children to pose before you, while I weep and wail over them for the insults I have received. For that reason shall I, the victim, be of less account in your court than the perpetrator of the wrong? It must not be.

When Meidias, with his children round him, calls you to cast your votes for them, then you must imagine that I am standing here with the laws by my side and the oath that you have sworn, demanding and imploring each of you to vote for them. It is in every way more just that you should side with the laws than with this man. The laws, Athenians, you have sworn to obey; through the laws you enjoy your equal rights; to the laws you owe every blessing that is yours—not to Meidias nor to the children of Meidias.

Perhaps he will say of me, This man is an orator. If an orator is one who offers you such counsel as he thinks expedient for you, yet stops short of pestering or bullying you, then for my part I would neither shun nor disclaim that title. But if by orator he means one of those speakers such as you and I so often see, men who have shamelessly enriched themselves at your expense, I cannot be one, for I have never received a penny from you and I have spent upon you all but a trifle of my fortune. Yet even if I were the most unscrupulous of that gang, I ought rather to be punished according to the laws than insulted in the performance of a public service.

Then again, none of these orators supports me in this trial; nor do I blame them, for I have never said a word in public in support of one of them. I make it a fixed rule to take my own line, speaking and acting in whatever way I believe to be for your advantage. But you will see very soon that Meidias has all the orators in turn ranged on his side. Yet is it fair in him to brand me with the reproach of that title and then to depend on these very men to rescue him?

Perhaps too he will say something of this sort; that my present speech is all carefully thought out and prepared. I admit, Athenians, that I have thought it out, and I should not dream of denying it; yes, and I have spent all possible care on it. I should be a poor creature if all my wrongs, past and present, left me careless of what I was going to say to you about them. Yet the real composer of my speech is Meidias.

The man who has furnished the facts with which the speeches deal ought in strict justice to bear that responsibility, and not the man who has devoted thought and care to lay an honest case before you today. That is what I am doing, men of Athens; to that I plead guilty. As for Meidias, he has probably never in his life troubled himself about honesty, for if it had entered his head even for a moment to consider such a thing, he would not have missed it so completely in practice.