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448 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1450
A mob is easily swayed, fluid in its opinions, changeable in its intentions, stirred up by its passions; it is easily driven to all kinds of crime, and cannot be made to consider whether the appetites of the majority are right or wrong; it is carried along untamed, rushes forward unbridled; it cannot be recalled nor restrained, and neither the rational suasion of the wise nor the commands of the right-thinking can control it. A demented mob doesn't want to know anything that doesn't suit its own pleasure, and doesn't care whether what it undertakes is pernicious and base, so long as it can have its way. It won't stop committing atrocities except to commit still worse atrocities. The amazing thing about mortals was that, as individuals, they were almost all wise and aware of what was right; but when they formed themselves into a group, they fell into a frenzied rage and spontaneously behaved like madmen.
As they say, only a divinity makes this many people gather together, and you'll learn from experience that, though as individuals you may think them worthless, when they form a crowd you'll esteem them and fall silent out of respect for them.
Who wouldn't play the madman, when the prince himself is insane?
Everyone looked at Momus with somber and hate-filled expressions, they all loathed Momus' words, and every single person was bitterly hostile to Momus' deeds. So much hatred for Momus flared up that he realized they were cursing him to his face, and wherever he turned his eyes, he saw gods jeering at him and gods making insulting gestures to provoke him... the whole lot of them were roiling to the point that they could scarcely restrain themselves from shattering the benches and attacking Momus with them...
I think it is the duty of the writer to undertake to write nothing that his prospective readers will find familiar and obvious.