Beware the crowd. Seneca, Epistles 1.7.1-3

Seneca warns that you should fear the mob always, whether it is celebrating or rioting. It is inherently dangerous to humanity, always unsafe. You can hear the Latin <here>.

Quid tibi vitandum praecipue existimes quaeris? turbam. Nondum illi tuto committeris. Ego certe confitebor imbecillitatem meam: numquam mores quos extuli refero; aliquid ex eo quod composui turbatur, aliquid ex iis quae fugavi redit. Quod aegris evenit quos longa imbecillitas usque eo affecit ut nusquam sine offensa proferantur, hoc accidit nobis quorum animi ex longo morbo reficiuntur. Inimica est multorum conversatio: nemo non aliquod nobis vitium aut commendat aut imprimit aut nescientibus allinit. Utique quo maior est populus cui miscemur, hoc periculi plus est.

Nihil vero tam damnosum bonis moribus quam in aliquo spectaculo desidere; tunc enim per voluptatem facilius vitia subrepunt. Quid me existimas dicere? avarior redeo, ambitiosior, luxuriosior? immo vero crudelior et inhumanior, quia inter homines fui. Casu in meridianum spectaculum incidi, lusus exspectans et sales et aliquid laxamenti quo hominum oculi ab humano cruore acquiescant. Contra est: quidquid ante pugnatum est misericordia fuit; nunc omissis nugis mera homicidia sunt. Nihil habent quo tegantur; ad ictum totis corporibus expositi numquam frustra manum mittunt.

You ask what you should mark as most necessary to avoid? The crowd. It will never be safe to commit yourself to it. I will frankly confess my own weakness here: never do I maintain perfectly the habits I have praised. Something I have composed always gets disturbed; something I have put to flight returns to roost. As those afflicted with chronic illness never recover without some injury, so we must struggle, whose minds are healing from prolonged distemper. The society of the crowd is hostile: somebody there is always commending or provoking vice, or smearing it on oblivious passers-by. The greater the crowd in which we are swallowed, the greater the danger.

Nothing is so harmful to good habits as prolonged attendance at some public show. There vices stalk you all the more easily, as you are distracted by pleasure. What do you think I am saying? That I return from the crowd greedier, less inhibited, more given to vain display? Say rather than I am crueler and less humane, because I have been among men. I went to a matinee once, hoping for some sport in the middle of the day—a little piquant diversion to give our eyes a rest from the blood and guts. My hopes were dashed: the last fights I saw were at least tempered with mercy; these were simple slaughters, with no half-time pranks. The fighters wore no protection at all, exposing their entire bodies so that every blow drew blood.