never wielded a sceptre. In his thirst
for slaughter, he wished all the necks in Rome _one_, that he might
cut them off at a blow.

Domitian, at the commencement of his reign, carried his abhorrence of
cruelty to such lengths, that he forbad the sacrificing of oxen, and
would sit whole days on the judgment-seat, reversing the unjust
decisions of corrupt judges; yet afterwards, he surpassed even Nero in
cruelty. The latter was content to torture and kill by proxy, and
without being a spectator; but Domitian could not be denied the luxury
of seeing his victims writhe, and hearing them shriek; and often with
his own hand directed the instrument of torture, especially when some
illustrious senator or patrician was to be killed by piece-meal.
Commodus began with gentleness and condescension, but soon became a
terror and a scourge, outstripping in his atrocities most of his
predecessors. Maximin too, was just and generous when first invested
with power, but afterwards rioted in slaughter with the relish of a
fiend. History has well said of this monarch, 'the change in his
disposition may readily serve to show how dangerous a thing is power,
that could transform a person of such rigid virtues into such a
monster.'

Instances almost innumerable might be furnished in the history of
every age, illustrating the blunting of sympathies, and the total
transformation of character wrought in individuals by the exercise of
arbitrary power. Not to detain the reader with long details, let a
single instance suffice.

Perhaps no man has lived in modern times, whose name excites such
horror as that of Robespierre. Yet it is notorious that he was
naturally of a benevolent disposition, and tender sympathies.

"Before the revolution, when as a judge in his native city of Arras he
had to pronounce judgment on an assassin, he took no food for two days
afterwards, but was heard frequently exclaiming, 'I am sure he was
guilty; he is a villain; but yet, to put a human being to death!!' He
could not support the idea; and that the same necessity might not
recur, he relinquished his judicial office.--(See Laponneray's Life of
Robespierre, p. 8.) Afterwards, in the Convention of 1791, he urged
strongly the abolition of the punishment of death; and yet, for
sixteen months, in 1793 and 1794, till he perished himself by the same
guillotine which he had so mercilessly used on others, no one at Paris
consigned and caused so many fellow-creatures to be p