Against Meidias

Now a man who thinks it degrading to show any fear of you, Athenians, and a dashing thing to snap his fingers at you, does not such a man deserve death ten times over? He really believes that you will have no hold over him. Rich, arrogant, haughty, loud-voiced, violent, shameless, where will you catch him if he gives you the slip now?

But in my opinion, if for nothing else, yet for those harangues that he delivers at every opportunity and for the occasions that he chooses for them, he would deserve the severest penalty. For of course you know that if any welcome news is brought to the city, such as we all rejoice to hear, Meidias has never on any of those occasions been found in the ranks of those who share in the public satisfaction or the public rejoicings;

but if it is something untoward, something that no one else would wish to hear, he is the first to jump up at once and harangue the people, making the utmost of his opportunity and enjoying the silence by which you show your distress at what has happened. Why, that is the sort of men you Athenians are. You do not serve abroad; you see no need to pay your property-tax. And then do you wonder that your affairs go wrong? Do you think I am going to pay my property-tax and you spend the money? Do you think I am going to fit out war-galleys and you decline to embark in them?

That is how he insults you, seizing the chance to void the rancor and venom that he secretes in his heart against the masses, as he moves about among you. Now is the chance for you, men of Athens, now when he comes with his humbug and chicanery, with his lamentations, tears and prayers, to throw this answer in his teeth. Yes, and that is the sort of man you are, Meidias. You are a bully; you cannot keep your hands to yourself. Then can you wonder if your evil deeds bring you to an evil end? Do you think that we shall submit to you and you shall go on beating us? That we shall acquit you and you shall never desist?

As for the speakers who will support him, their object, I swear, is not so much to oblige him as to insult me, owing to the personal quarrel which that man there[*](Demosthenes points at Eubulus. The sentence is clumsy, and even doubtful Greek, and may be corrupt. This and the two following sections are obelized in S and other good Mss.) says that I have with himself. He insists that it is so, whether I admit it or not; but he is wrong. Too much success is apt sometimes to make people overbearing. For when I, after all that I have suffered, do not admit that he is my enemy, while he will not accept my disclaimer, but even confronts me in another’s quarrel, and is prepared now to mount the platform and demand that I shall even forfeit my claim to that protection which the laws afford to all, is it not clear that he has grown overbearing and is too powerful to suit the interests of each one of us?

Furthermore, Athenians, Eubulus was in his seat in the theater when the people gave their vote against Meidias, and yet, as you know, he never stood up when called upon by name, though Meidias begged and implored him to do so. Yet if he thought that the plaint had been brought against an innocent man, that was the moment to help him by his testimony, if he was really his friend;but if he withheld his support then, because he had pronounced him guilty, but is now going to ask for his acquittal, because he has fallen foul of me, it is not well that you should humor him.

In a democracy there must never be a citizen so powerful that his support can ensure that the one party submits to outrages and the other escapes punishment. But if you are anxious to do me an ill turn, Eubulus,though I protest that I know not why you should—you are a man of influence and a statesman; take any legal vengeance you like on me, but do not deprive me of my compensation for illegal outrages. If you find it impossible to harm me in that way, it may be taken as a proof of my innocence that you can readily censure others, but find no ground of censure in me.

Now I have learned that Philippides and Mnesarchides and Diotimus of Euonymia and some other rich trierarchs will plead with you for his acquittal, claiming it as a favour due to themselves. I would not utter a word in disparagement of these men; I should indeed be mad to do so: but I will tell you how you ought to reflect and consider, when they make their request.

Suppose, gentlemen of the jury, that these men—never may it so befall, as indeed it never will—made themselves masters of the State, along with Meidias and others like him; and suppose that one of you, who are men of the people and friends to popular government, having offended one of these men,—not so seriously as Meidias offended me, but in some slighter degree—came before a jury packed with men of that class; what pardon, what consideration do you think he would receive? They would be prompt with their favour, would they not? Would they heed the petition of one of the common folk? Would not their first words be, The knave! The sorry rascal! To think that he should insult us and still draw breath! He ought to be only too happy if he is permitted to exist?

Do not therefore, men of Athens, treat them otherwise than as they would treat you. Keep your respect, not for their wealth or their reputation, but for yourselves. They have many advantages, which no one hinders them from enjoying; then they in their turn must not hinder us from enjoying the security which the laws provide as our common birthright.

Meidias will suffer no distressing hardship if he shall come to possess just as much as the majority of you, whom he now insults and calls beggars, and if he is stripped of the superfluous wealth that incites him to such insolence. Surely such men have no right to ask of you, Do not try the case by the laws, gentlemen of the jury; do not help the man who has suffered serious wrongs; do not observe your oaths; grant us your verdict as a favour. If they plead for Meidias, that is what their plea will come to, though these may not be their actual words.

But if they are his friends and think it hard that he should not be rich, well, they are extremely rich themselves; that is their good fortune. Let them spare him some of their own wealth, that you may give your votes honestly, as you swore to do when you came into court, and that they may be generous to him at their own expense, and not at the expense of your honor. But if these men with all their money are not prepared to sacrifice it, how can it be honorable for you to sacrifice your oath?

An imposing muster of wealthy men, whose prosperity has raised them to apparent importance, will come into court to plead with you. Men of Athens, do not sacrifice me to any one of them; but just as each of them will be zealous for his private interests and for the defendant, so be zealous for your own selves and for the laws, as well as for me who have fled to you for refuge, and cleave to the opinion that you already hold.

If, men of Athens, at the time of the plaint the people, after hearing the facts, had acquitted Meidias, it would not be so hard to bear: one might console oneself with the fancy that the assault had never been made, or that it was not a profanation of the festival, and so on.

But now this would be the hardest blow for me to bear, if, when the offences were fresh in your memory, you displayed such anger and indignation and bitterness that, when Neoptolemus and Mnesarchides and Philippides and another of these very wealthy men were interceding with you and me, you shouted to me not to let him off, and when Blepaeus the banker came up to me, you raised such an uproar, as if I was going to take a bribe—the old, old story!—

that I was startled by your clamor, Athenians, and let my cloak drop so that I was half-naked in my tunic, trying to get away from his grasp, and when you met me afterwards, Mind you prosecute the blackguard, you cried; don’t let him go; the Athenians will watch to see what you are going to do; and yet when the act has been condemned by vote as an outrage, and those who gave that verdict were sitting in a sacred building, and when I have stuck to my task and not betrayed either you or myself, if after all this you are going to acquit him.[*](Editors find this sentence so intolerably clumsy that they see in it a proof that Demosthenes did not revise this part of the speech. It may be urged that the sentence, though involved, is lucid enough and would be very effective as an apparently unpremeditated outburst.)

Never! Such a result entails all that is most disgraceful. I do not deserve this at your hands, Athenians. How should I, when I am bringing to justice a fellow who is as violent a bully as he is reputed to be, who has offended against decency at a public festival, and who has made not only you, but all the Greeks who were visiting the city, witnesses of his brutality? The people heard what he had done. What was the result? They voted him guilty and passed him on to your court.

So it is impossible that your decision should be concealed or hushed up, or that the question should not be asked, How did you judge the case when it was brought before you? No; if you punish him, you will be thought men of discretion and honor and haters of iniquity; but if you acquit him, you will seem to have capitulated to some other motive. For this is not a political issue, nor does it resemble the case of Aristophon, who stopped the plaint against him by restoring the crowns. This case arises from the insolence of Meidias and from the impossibility of his undoing any of his acts. Is it then better, in view of the past, to punish him now or the next time he offends? Now is the time, I think, because the trial is a public one, even as the offences for which he is being tried were public.

Furthermore, it was not I alone, men of Athens, that he then, in his intention, struck and insulted, when he acted as he did, but all who may be supposed less able than I am to obtain satisfaction for themselves. If you were not all beaten, if you were not all insulted while acting as choir-masters, you realize of course that you cannot all be choir-masters at the same time, and that no one could possibly assault all of you at once with a single fist.

But whenever a solitary victim fails to obtain redress, then each one of you must expect to be the next victim himself, and must not be indifferent to such incidents nor wait for them to come his way, but must rather guard against them as long beforehand as possible. I perhaps am hated by Meidias, and each of you by someone else. Would you, then, allow that enemy, whoever he is, to gain the power of doing to each of you what this man has done to me? I should think not indeed. Then neither must you leave me, Athenians, in this man’s power.