The most usual way to appease those minds we have offended when revenge lies in their hands, and we stand at their mercy, is by submission to move them to commiseration and pity. Nevertheless, courage, constancy, and resolution means altogether opposite have sometimes wrought the same effect.
Edward, the Black Prince of Wales, who so long governed our country of Guienne, was a man whose conditions and fortune were accompanied by many notable parts of worth and magnanimity. Having been grievously offended by the Limousins, though he took and entered their city by main force, he could by no means be appeased nor be moved to any pity by the woeful outcries of all sorts of people, including men, women, and children who were prostrating themselves to the common slaughter, crying for mercy, and humbly submitting themselves at his feet. Until such time as, in a triumphant manner passing through their city, he perceived three French gentlemen who alone, with incredible and undaunted boldness, gained stood the enraged violence and made head against the fury of his victorious army.
The consideration and respect of so notable a virtue did first abate the dint of his wrath, and from those three began to relent and show mercy to all the other inhabitants of the said town. Scanderbeg, Prince of Epirus, following one of his soldiers with the purpose to kill him, who by all means of humility and submissive entreaty had first offered to pacify him, in such an unavoidable extremity, resolved at last resolutely to encounter him with his sword in his hand.
This resolution did immediately stay his captain’s fury, who, seeing him undertake so honourable an attempt, not only forgave but also received him into grace and favour. This example may haply, of such as have not known the prodigious force and matchless valour of the said prince, admit another interpretation. The Emperor Conradus, third of that name, having besieged Guelphe, Duke of Bavaria, would yield to no other milder conditions but only to suffer such gentlewomen as were with the Duke in the city their honours safe to issue out of the town afoot with such things as they could carry about them, what vile or base satisfaction soever was offered him.
They, with an unrelenting courage, advised and resolved themselves, neglecting all other riches or jewels, to carry their husbands, their children, and the Duke himself on their backs. The Emperor, perceiving the quaintness of their device, took so great pleasure at it that he wept for joy and forthwith converted that former inexorable rage and mortal hatred he bore the Duke into so mild a relenting and gentle kindness that thenceforward he treated both him and his with all favour and courtesy. Either of these ways might easily persuade me, for I am much inclined to mercy and affected by mildness.
So it is that in my opinion, I should more naturally stoop unto compassion than bend to estimation. Yet, pity is held a vicious passion among the Stoics. They would have us aid the afflicted, but not faint and co-suffer with them.
These examples seem fittest for me, inasmuch as these minds are seen to be assaulted and surrounded by these two means: undauntedly suffering the one and stooping under the other. It may be said that yielding one’s heart unto commiseration is an effect of facility, tenderness, and meekness, which is why the weakest natures, such as women, children, and the vulgar sort, are more subject to it. But contemning tears and wailings to yield unto the only reverence of the sacred Image of virtue is the effect of a courageous and employable mind holding a masculine and constant vigor in honor and affection. Notwithstanding, amazement and admiration may, in less generous minds, work the like effect.
Witness the Thebans, who, having accused and indicted their Captains of a capital crime for continuing their charge beyond the prescribed time, absolved and acquitted Pelopidas of all punishment because he submissively yielded under the burden of such objections and, to save himself, employed no other means but suing-requests and demiss entreaties. On the contrary, Epaminondas boldly related the exploits achieved by him and, with a fierce and arrogant manner, upbraided the people with them. He did not have the heart to take their lots into his hands, but went his way and was freely absolved. The assembly commended the stoutness of his courage.
Dionysius the elder, after extreme difficulties, having taken the City of Reggio and in it the Captain Phyton, a worthy, honest man who had so obstinately defended the same, would needs show a tragical example of revenge. First, he told him how the day before, he had caused his son and all his kinfolks to be drowned.
Phyton, stoutly out-staring him, answered nothing but that they were more happy than himself by the space of one day. Afterward, he caused him to be stripped, taken, and dragged through the City most ignominiously, whipping him, charging him besides with contumelious speeches. All which notwithstanding, as one not at all dismayed, he ever showed a constant and resolute heart. With a cheerful and bold countenance, he went on still, loudly recounting the honorable and glorious cause of his death, which was that he would never consent to yield his Country into the hands of a cruel tyrant, menacing him with an imminent punishment of the Gods.
Dionysius plainly reading in his soldiers’ looks that, in lieu of animating them with braving his conquered enemy, they, in contempt of him and scorn of his triumph, seemed by the astonishment of so rare a virtue to be moved with compassion and inclined to mutiny, yea, and to free Phyton from the hands of his sergeants or guard. He caused his torture to cease and secretly sent him to be drowned in the sea. Surely, man is a wonderful, vain, diverse, and wavering subject. It is very hard to ground any directly constant and uniform judgment upon him.
Behold Pompey, who freely pardoned all the City of the Mamertines against which he was grievously enraged for the love of the magnanimity and consideration of the exceeding virtue of Zeno, one of their fellow-citizens who took the public fault wholly upon himself and desired no other favor but alone to bear the punishment thereof, whereas Sylla’s host, having used the like virtue in the City of Perugia, obtained nothing, neither for himself nor for others.
And directly against my first example, the hardiest amongst men, and so gracious to the vanquished, Alexander the Great, after many strange difficulties, forcing the city of Gaza, encountered by chance with Betis, who commanded therein, of whose valor during the siege he had witnessed wonderful and strange exploits. Being then alone, forsaken by all his followers, his arms all broken, and besmeared with blood and wounds, fighting amongst a number of Macedonians who pell-mell laid still upon him, provoked by so dear a victory – for among other mishaps he had newly received two hurts in his body – he said this unto him: ‘Betis, thou shalt not die as thou wouldest, for make account thou must endure all the torments that may possibly be devised or inflicted upon a caitiff wretch, as thou art.’
But Betis, for all his enemies’ threats, without speaking one word, returned only an assured, stern, and disdainful countenance upon him, which silent obstinacy Alexander noted. He said to himself, ‘What? Would he not bend his knee? Could he not utter one suppliant voice? I will assuredly vanquish his silence, and if I cannot wrest a word from him, I will at least make him sob or groan.’ And converting his anger into rage, he commanded his heels to be through-pierced, and so, all alive with a cord through them, to be torn, mangled, and dismembered at a cart’s tail.
May it be that the force of his courage was so natural and peculiar unto him that because he would not admire him, he respected him the less? Or deemed he it so proper unto himself that, in his height, he could not, without the spigot of envious passion, endure to see it in another? Or was the natural violence of his rage incapable of any opposition? Surely, had it received any restraint, it may be supposed that, in the ransacking and desolation of the city of Thebes, it should have felt the same, in seeing so many worthies lost and valiant men put to the sword, as having no means of public defense; for above six thousand were slain and massacred, of whom not one was seen either to run away or beg for grace.
But on the contrary, some here and there sought to affront and endeavor to check their victorious enemies, urging and provoking them to force them to die an honorable death. Not one was seen to yield, and those who survived to their last gasp did not attempt to revenge themselves, but with all weapons of despair, with the death of some enemy, comfort and sweeten their own misery. Yet could not the affliction of their virtue find any ruth or pity, nor might one day suffice to glut or assuage his revengeful wrath. This butcherous slaughter continued unto the last drop of any remaining blood, where none were spared but the unarmed and naked, the aged and impotent, the women and children, that so from among them, they might get thirty thousand slaves.
