Against Meidias

And then this same man, so cruel, so heartless, who has taken such dire vengeance for his wrongs—you have only his word for them, for he really suffered none—will you acquit him when you have detected him in a wanton outrage on one of the citizens? If he regards neither festivals nor temples nor law nor anything else, will you not condemn him? Will you not make an example of him?

If not, what have you to say, gentlemen of the jury? What fair and honorable excuse, in heaven’s name, can you find for him? Is it because he is a ruffian and a blackguard? That is true enough, but surely, men of Athens, your duty is to hate such creatures, not to screen them. Is it because he is wealthy? But you will find that his wealth was the main cause of his insolence, so that your duty is to cut off the resources from which his insolence springs, rather than spare him for the sake of those resources; for to allow such a reckless and abominable creature to have such wealth at his command is to supply him with resources to use against yourselves.

What plea, then, is left? Pity, forsooth! He will group his children round him and weep and beg you to pardon him for their sakes. That is his last move. But I need not remind you that pity is the due of those who unjustly suffer more than they can endure, not of those who are paying the penalty for the misdeeds they have committed. And who could justly pity his children, when he sees that Meidias had no pity for Strato’s children, whose distress is enhanced by the reflection that for their father’s calamity no relief is possible? For it is not a question of paying a fixed fine and regaining his civil rights; he has been disfranchised absolutely, at one stroke, by the wanton resentment of Meidias.