122.  The Second and Final Verdict.—­Ariston is smiling; his friends are congratulating him, but the trial is by no means over.  If Lamachus had been found guilty of something for which the law provided an absolute fixed penalty, this second part of the proceedings would be omitted.  But here, although the jury has said some damage or penalty or penalties are due, it has still to fix the amount.  Ariston has now to propose to the dicasts a sum which he thinks is adequate to avenge his wrongs and losses; Lamachus can propose a smaller sum and try to persuade the court that it is entirely proper.  Each side must act warily.  Athenian jurors are fickle folk.  The very men who have just howled down Lamachus may, in a spasm of repentance, vote for absurdly low damages.  Again, Lamachus must not propose anything obviously inadequate, otherwise the jurors who have just voted against him may feel insulted, and accept Ariston’s estimate.[*] Ariston therefore says that he deserves at least a talent.  Lamachus rejoins that half a talent is more than ample, even conceding Arison’s alleged wrongs.  The arguments this time are shorter and more to the point.  Then comes the second balloting.  A second time a majority (smaller this time, but enough) is in favor of Ariston.  The better cause has conquered; and there is at least this advantage to the Athenian legal system, there will be no appeal nor tedious technicalities before a “higher court.”  The verdict of the dicastery is final.

[*]Undoubtedly Socrates would have escaped with his life, if (after his original condemnation) he had proposed a real penalty to the jury, instead of an absurdly small fine.  The only alternative for the dicasts was to accept the proposition of his opponents,—­in his case, death.

123.  The Merits and Defects of the Athenian Courts.—­No doubt injustice is sometimes done.  Sometimes it is the honest man who hears the dreaded “Kataba!” Sometimes the weeping children have their intended effect.  Sometimes it is the arguments about “My opponent’s scoundrelly ancestry” which win the verdict.  At the same time, your Athenian dicast is a remarkably shrewd and acute individual.  He can distinguish between specious rhetoric and a real argument.  He is probably honestly anxious to do justice.  In the ordinary case where his personal interests or prejudices do not come into play, the decision is likely to match with justice quite as often perhaps as in the intricate court system of a great republic many centuries after the passing of Athens.

Certain features of some Athenian trials have not explained themselves in the example just witnessed.  To prevent frivolous or blackmailing litigation it is provided that, if the plaintiff in a suit gets less than one fifth of the ballots in his favor (thus clearly showing he had no respectable case), he is liable to a heavy fine or, in default thereof, exile.  Again, we have not waited for the actual closing scene—­the dicasts each giving up his colored staff as a kind of voucher to the court officers, and in return getting his three obols (9 cents) daily jury fee, which each man claps promptly in his cheek, and then goes off home to try the case afresh at the family supper.