“What then?” you say; “do not kings also often kill?” Yes, but only when they are induced to do so for the good of the state. Tyrants take delight in cruelty. But the difference between a tyrant and a king is one of deeds, not of name; for while the elder Dionysius20 may justly and deservedly be counted better than many kings, what keeps Lucius Sulla from being styled a tyrant, whose killing was stopped only by a dearth of foes? Though he abdicated the dictatorship and returned to private life, yet what tyrant ever drank so greedily of human blood as he, who ordered seven thousand Roman citizens to be butchered at one time, and who, as he sat nearby at the temple of Bellona and heard the mingled cry of the many thousands moaning beneath the sword, said to the terror-stricken senate, “Let us attend to business, Gentlemen of the Senate; only a few seditious persons are being killed by my order”? This was no lie; to Sulla they seemed a few. But more about Sulla by and by, when we shall take up the question of the sort of anger we should have for enemies, particularly if fellow-countrymen have broken away from the body politic and passed over into the category of enemies. Meanwhile, as I was saying, it is mercy that makes the distinction between a king and a tyrant as great as it is, though both are equally fenced about with arms; but the one uses the arms which he has to fortify good-will, the other to curb great hatred by great fear, and yet the very hands to which he has entrusted himself he cannot view without concern. Conflicting causes force him to conflicting courses; for since he is hated because he is feared, he wishes to be feared because he is hated, and not knowing what frenzy is engendered when hatred grows too great, he takes as a motto that accursed verse which has driven many to their fall:
Let them hate, if only they fear.21
Now fear in moderation restrains men’s passions, but the fear that is constant and sharp and brings desperation arouses the sluggish to boldness, and urges them to stop at nothing. In the same way, a string of feathers may keep wild beasts hemmed in, but let a horseman come upon them from behind with javelins, and they will try to escape through the very objects that had made them run, and will trample down their fear. No courage is so bold as that forced by utter desperation. Fear should leave some sense of security, and hold out much more of hope than of peril; otherwise, if an inoffensive man is made to fear the same peril as others, he takes pleasure in rushing into peril and making an end of a life that is forfeit.