The cruelty even of men in private station has been avenged by the hands of slaves despite their certain risk of crucifixion; nations and peoples have set to work to extirpate the cruelty of tyrants, when some were suffering from it and others felt its menace. At times the tyrants’ own guards have risen up against them, and have practiced upon their persons the treachery and disloyalty and brutality and all else that they themselves had taught them. For what can any one expect from him whom he himself has taught to be bad? Wickedness is not obsequious long, nor guilty of crime only to the extent that it is bid. But suppose that cruel rule is safe, what sort of a kingdom has it? Nothing but the bare outlines of captured cities and the terror-stricken countenances of widespread fear. Everywhere is sorrow, panic, and disorder; even pleasures give rise to fear; men are not safe when they go to the festal board, for there the tongue even of the drunkard must award itself with ears, nor to the public shows where the material is sought for accusation and ruin. Provided though they are at huge expense, in regal opulence, and with artists of the choicest reputation, yet whom would games delight in prison?
Ye gods! what curse is this — to kill, to rage, to take delight in the clank of chains and in cutting off the heads of fellow-countrymen, to spill streams of blood wherever one may go and by one’s appearance to terrify and repel? What else would living be if lions and bears held sway, if serpents and all the creatures that are most destructive were given supremacy over us? These, devoid of reason and doomed to death by us on the plea of their ferocity, yet spare their kind, and even among wild beasts likeness forms a safeguard; but tyrants do not withhold their fury even from their kin, strangers and friends are treated just alike, and the more they indulge their fury, the more violent it becomes. Then from the murder of one and again another it creeps on to the wiping out of nations, and to hurl the firebrand on the roofs of houses and to drive the plow over ancient cities are considered a sign of power, and to order the killing of one or two is believed to be too small a show of royal might; unless at one time a herd of poor wretches stands beneath the blade, rage counts its cruelty forced under control.
True happiness consists in giving safety to many in calling back to life from the very verge of death, and in earning the civic crown36 by showing mercy. No decoration is more worthy of the eminence of a prince or more beautiful than that crown bestowed for saving the lives of fellow-citizens; not trophies torn from a vanquished enemy, nor chariots stained with barbarian blood, nor spoils acquired in war. To save life by crowds and universally, this is a godlike use of power; but to kill in multitudes and without distinction is the power of conflagration and of ruin.