The most common way to soften the hearts of those we have offended, when they are hungry for revenge, is to elicit their mercy through commiseration. But sometimes the opposite approach, showing bravery and constancy, has the same effect.
Edward, Prince of Wales, who ruled our Guienne for many years., had a character with many great qualities. Offended by the Limousins, he took their city by force. The cries of their citizens, including women and children, could not curtail his army’s butchery. But then he noticed three French gentlemen, who with incredible boldness, continued to fight against his victorious army. He saw this as a sign of respect, and this closed off his anger, leading him to take mercy on all remaining inhabitants of the city.
Scanderberch, prince of the Epirus, stalked a soldier of his own to kill him. This soldier having tried, by all means of humility and supplication to appease him, made a final stand, raising a sword in his fist. This ultimate courageous act arrested his master’s fury. Not wanting to smite such honor, Scanderberch received him in grace. This story takes on greater resonance when you know of the unique strength and valor of the prince.
Emperor Conrad III besieged Guelph, Duke of Bavaria, and refused some vile and lax satisfactions of mercy. Instead, he allowed only the gentle women to flee with their honor on foot, and he permitted them to carry whatever they could. They decided to carry their husbands, children and the Duke himself on their shoulders. The Emperor, so pleased by their courageous kindness, cried with ease. He lost all bitterness towards what was until then his mortal and capital enemy, and from then on treated the Duke and his people humanely.
Either strategy, meekness or courage, would succeed with me. I have a wonderful laxity towards mercy and meekness. It’s natural for me to be compassionate. The Stoics, on the other hand, consider pity to be a vicious passion. They believe in helping the afflicted, but not sympathizing with them. But strategies of the vanquished seem appropriate to me. Souls fighting for their lives have two options, supporting without shaking or bending to force.
Some have argued that breaking one’s heart to commiserate springs from ease, good-naturedness, and softness, the nature of women, children, and the vulgar. But it is also fair to contend that disdaining tears and prayers, surrendering solely to the holy reverence of virtue, comes from a strong but inflexible soul, and this male vigor, based on honor, is obstinate.
In less generous souls, amazement and admiration can bow down to such staunch refusals. The Theban people charged their captains with capital crimes for holding their offices beyond the prescribed terms. Pelopidas bowed to these objections and was absolved of all penalties. But on the contrary, Epaminondas orated beautifully of the acts he performed in his service and reproached his public accusers, proudly and arrogantly. The assembly parted without sentence, greatly praising his high character and courage.
Dionysius the Elder, after extreme lengths and difficulties, subdued the city of Rhegium. He wanted to make Captain Phyto, a great man who had so stubbornly defended the city, a memorable example of revenge. Dionysius asserted that the day before, Phyto had drowned his son and the rest of his kin. To which Phyton replied that they were one day happier than him. After that, Dionysius had him stripped and carried off to executioners, dragged through the city, tortured with whips ignominiously and cruelly, and charged with numerous insults. But Phyto had constant courage and, with a firm face, loudly recalled the honorable and glorious cause of his death, for not wanting to turn over his country to a tyrant, he threatened Dionysius with the punishment of the gods. The army of Dionysius, instead of feeling bravado against this defeated enemy, disregarded their leader and his triumph. They were soothed in amazement by this rare virtue, and marched to mutiny. As they were about to snatch Phyton from the hands of his sergeants, Dionysius had his most loyal soldiers secret him away, and quietly drowned him in the sea.
People are wonderfully vain, diverse, and undulating. It is difficult to base a constant and uniform judgment upon them. The virtue and magnanimity of Zenon convinced Voyla Pompeius to forgive the city of the Mamertins, after Zenon claimed to be responsible for the public fault and would bear everyone’s penalty alone. And the host of Sylla, having made a similar virtuous stand in the city of Peruse did not gain anything for his fellow citizens.
And directly against my first examples, Alexander after subjugating the city of Gaza, met Betis who commanded the opposing forces. Betis abandoned of all support, his armor in tatters, his weapons covered in blood, still fighting off several Macedonians battling from all sides, gave Alexander two fresh wounds. This led him to exclaim “you will not die as you wanted, Betis. We will make sure you suffer all kinds of turmoil that can be invented against a captive.” Betis, insolent and haughty, stood without saying a word to these threats. When Alexander, seeing his proud and stubborn silence said “Did he flex a knee? Did he escape some pleading voice? I will overcome your silence; and if I cannot tear a word from you, I will snatch it from your groin.” Turning his anger into rage, he ordered that his soldiers to pierce Betis’s heels, so he could be dragged alive, dismembered, from the rear of a cart.
Was such audacity so common to Alexander that he admired it less? Or did he consider this trait to be solely his own and he could not bear to see it in another without feeling envy? Or was this merely Alexander’s rage having the best of him?
In truth, Alexander’s rage could have led to the capture and desolation of Thebes, cruelly put to the sword with so many valiant men lost, lacking any means of public defense. Because six thousand had been killed, of whom not one was seen fleeing or begging for mercy. On the contrary, they remained on the streets, confronting the victories enemy, provoking honorable deaths at Alexander’s hand.
Everyone died of wounds that came from attempting one last breath of revenge against the conquerors. But this virtuous combat led to no mercy, it was not sufficient to satisfy Alexander’s revenge. His slaughter continued until the last drop of blood, and ended only when he then rounded up thirty thousand unarmed people, old men, women and children and marched them into slavery.