friends, and in the midst of a large town, where there is nothing to
fear either for their wealth or their lives, breathe fire and sword,
busy themselves with wars, destructions, conflagrations, and massacres,
cannot bear patiently that armies are in the field and do not meet;
or, if in sight, that they do not engage; or, if they engage, that
the fight was not more sanguinary, and that there were scarcely ten
thousand men killed on the spot. They are sometimes so infatuated as to
forget their dearest interests, their repose and security, for the sake
of change, and from a liking for novelty and extraordinary events; some
of them would even be satisfied with seeing the enemy at the very gates
of Dijon or Corbie,[491] with beholding chains stretched across the
streets and barricades thrown up, for the satisfaction of hearing and
of communicating the news.
(11.) Demophilus, on my right, is full of lamentations, and exclaims,
“Everything is lost; we are on the brink of ruin; how can we resist
such a powerful and general league?[492] What can we do, I dare not
say to vanquish, but to make head by ourselves against so many and
such powerful enemies? There never was anything like it as long as
the monarchy has existed! A hero, an Achilles, would have to succumb!
Besides,” adds he, “we have committed some very serious blunders; I
know what I am talking about, for I have been a soldier myself; I have
seen some battles, and have learned a good deal from studying history.”
Then he falls to admiring Olivier le Daim and Jacques Cœur,[493]
who, according to him, were men after his own heart, and ministers
indeed. He retails his news, which is sure to be the most melancholy
and disadvantageous that could be invented. Now a party of our soldiers
has fallen into an ambush, and are cut to pieces; presently some of
our troops, shut up in a castle, surrender at discretion, and are all
put to the sword. Should you tell him that such a report is incorrect,
and wants confirmation, he will not listen to you, but affirms that
a general has been killed, and though it is certain that he has only
been slightly wounded, and you tell him so, he deplores his death, is
sorry for the widow, the children, and the State, and is even sorry
for himself, for he has lost a good friend and an influential person.
He tells you the German horse are invincible, and turns pale if you
but name the Imperial cuirassiers.[494] “If we attack such a place,”
continues he, “we shall be obliged to raise the siege; we shall have to
remain on the defensive without engaging in action, or if we do fight,
we shall certainly be beaten, and then the enemy will be upon the
frontiers.” Demophilus gives them wings, and brings them presently into
the heart of the kingdom; he fancies he already hears the alarm-bells
ring in the towns, and thinks of his property and his estate; he does
not know where to take his money, his movables, and his family, and
whether to escape to the Swiss Cantons or to Venice.
But Basilides, on my left, raises suddenly an army of three hundred
thousand men, and will not abate a single troop; he has a list of all
the squadrons, battalions, generals, and officers, not omitting the
artillery and baggage. All these troops are at his entire disposal;
some he sends into Germany, others into Flanders, reserves a certain
number for the Alps, a smaller quantity for the Pyrenees, and conveys
the rest beyond seas; he knows their marches, he can tell what they
will do, and what they will not do; you would think he had the Kingʼs
ear, or was the ministerʼs confidant. If the enemies are beaten,[495]
and lose about nine or ten thousand men, he positively avers it was
thirty, neither more nor less; for his numbers are always as settled
and certain as if he had the best intelligence. Tell him in the
morning we have lost a paltry village, he not only puts off a dinner
to which the day before he had invited his friends, but does not take
any dinner himself on that day; and if he eats a supper it is without
appetite. If we besiege a town strong through its natural position, and
regularly fortified,[496] well stored with provisions and ammunition,
defended by a good garrison, commanded by a brave general, he tells
you the town has its weak spots, which are badly fortified, is in want
of powder, has a governor who lacks experience, and will capitulate
eight days after the trenches are opened. Another time he runs himself
quite out of breath, and after he has recovered himself a little he
exclaims, “I have some important news for you; our enemies are beaten
and totally routed; the general and principal officers, or at least
the greater part of them, are all killed, or have perished. What a
tremendous slaughter! We certainly have been very lucky!” Then he sits
down and takes a rest, after having told us the news, which only wants
a trifle more confirmation; for it is certain there has been no battle
at all. He assures us further that some prince, dreading our arms, has
abandoned the League and left his confederates in the lurch, and that
a second is inclined to follow his example; he believes firmly, with
the populace, that a third is dead,[497] and names you the place where
he is buried; and even when the common people[498] are undeceived, he
offers to lay a wager it is true. He knows for a fact that T. K. L.
is very successful against the Emperor,[499] that the Grand Turk[500]
is making formidable preparations, and will not hear of peace; and
that the Vizier will once more show himself before Vienna.[501] He
claps his hands and is as delighted as if there were not the smallest
doubt about it. The triple alliance[502] is a Cerberus[503] with him,
and the enemy only so many monsters to be knocked on the head. He
talks of nothing but laurels, palm-branches, triumphs, and trophies;
in conversation he speaks of “our august hero, our mighty potentate,
our invincible monarch,” and whatever you do, you will not get him to
say simply, “The King has a great many enemies; they are powerful,
united, and exasperated; he has conquered them, and I hope he will
always do so.” This style, too bold and decisive for Demophilus, is not
sufficiently pompous or grandiloquent for Basilides; his head is full
of other expressions; he is planning inscriptions for triumphal arches
and pyramids to adorn the capital when the conqueror will enter it; and
as soon as he hears that the armies are in sight of each other, or that
a town is invested, he has his clothes hung out and aired, so that they
should be ready when a _Te Deum_ is sung in the cathedral.[504]
(12.) A business which has to be discussed by the plenipotentiaries or
by the diplomatic agents of crowned heads and republics must needs be
unusually intricate and difficult if its conclusion requires a longer
time than the settling of the preliminaries, nay, even than the mere
regulating of ranks, precedences, and other ceremonies.
A minister or a plenipotentiary is a chameleon or a Proteus;[505]
sometimes, like a practised gambler, he hides his temper and character,
either to avoid any conjectures or guesses, or to prevent any part of
his secret escaping through passion or weakness; and at other times
he knows how to assume any character most suited to his designs, or
which is required, as it may be his interest artfully to appear to
other people as they think he really is. Thus when he intends to
conceal that his master is very formidable or very weak, he is resolute
and inflexible to prevent any large demands; or he is easygoing,
so as to give others an opportunity of making some demands, and so
secure the same liberty. At other times he is either diplomatic and
disingenuous, so as to veil a truth whilst telling it, because it is of
some importance to him to have it divulged but not believed; or else he
is free and open, so that when he wishes to conceal what should not be
known, people should nevertheless believe that he is acquainted with
everything they wish to know, and be convinced that they have been told
everything. In like manner he is fluent and verbose to excite others
to talk, or prevent their saying what he does not wish or ought not to
hear; to speak of many and various things which modify and destroy each
other, and leave the mind hovering between confidence and distrust;
to make amends for an expedient thoughtlessly proposed by suggesting
another; or he is sedate and taciturn to induce others to talk, to
listen for a long time, so that he may afterwards obtain the same
favour himself, speak with authority and weight, and utter promises or
threats which will influence people and produce a strong impression.
He begins and speaks first, the better to discover the opposition and
contradictions, the intrigues and cabals, of foreign ministers about
some proposals he has made, to take his measures and reply to them; and
at another meeting he speaks last, that he may be sure not to speak
in vain, and to be exact, so as perfectly to be aware on what support
he can reckon for his master and his allies, as well as to know what
he ought to ask and what he can get. He knows how to be clear and
explicit, or still better, how to be ambiguous and obscure, and to use
words and phrases with a double meaning, which he can render more or
less forcible as the occasion or his interest may require. He asks for
a little because he will not grant much; he asks for much to make sure
of a little. At first he insists upon getting a few trifling things,
which he afterwards pretends to be of small value, so as not to prevent
him for asking for one of greater value; he avoids, on the contrary, to
gain at first an important point, if it is likely to prevent him from
obtaining several others of less importance, but which, when united,
exceed the other in value. His demands are extravagant, but he knows
beforehand they will be denied, so he is provided with a convenient
excuse for refusing those he knows will be made, and which he does
not wish to grant; as industrious to aggravate the enormity of these
demands, and to let his adversaries admit, if possible, that there
may be reasons why they cannot agree, as to weaken those which they
pretend to have for not granting him what he solicits so urgently;
and as diligent in vaunting and in enlarging upon the little he has
to offer as he is in despising openly the little they are willing to
grant. He pretends to make some extraordinary proposals which beget
distrust, and cause to be rejected what indeed, if accepted, could not
be performed; this also serves to colour his exorbitant demands, and
throws on his antagonists the responsibility of a refusal. He grants
more than is asked, so as to get still more than he gives. You have to
pray, entreat, and beseech him for a long time to obtain some trifling
favour, so as to destroy all expectations and uproot all thoughts of
asking anything more important of him; or, if he is persuaded to grant
it, it is always on such conditions that he may share in its profits
and advantages. He directly or indirectly espouses the interest of an
ally, if he finds it at the same time conducive to the advancing of
his own pretensions; he talks of nothing but peace and alliances, the
public tranquillity and the public interests, and thinks, indeed, only
of his own, or rather of his masterʼs and the Stateʼs he represents.
Sometimes he reconciles some people who were opposed to one another,
and sometimes he divides those who were united; he intimidates the
powerful and encourages the weak; he draws several weak States into a
league against a more powerful one, under the pretence of a balance of
power, and then joins the former to turn the scale; but his protection
and his alliance are always expensive. He knows how to interest those
with whom he treats, and by a dexterous management and by shrewd and
subtle subterfuges he makes them perceive what private advantage,
profits, and honours they may derive through a certain pliability,
which does not in the least clash with their instructions nor with the
intentions of their masters. And in order not to be thought impregnable
on his side, he betrays some anxiety to better his fortunes, and then
receives some proposals which unveil to him the most secret intentions,
the most profound designs, and the last resource of his opponents,
and which he turns to his own advantage. If sometimes he is a loser
by certain stipulations, which have at last been settled, he clamours
loudly; and if he is not, he is still louder, and puts the losers on
their justification and defence. His court has laid down rules of
conduct for his guidance, all his measures are preconcerted, and his
smallest advances arranged beforehand; and yet, whilst subjects of the
greatest difficulty are treated and certain points are most strenuously
contested, he behaves as if his yielding was voluntary, unexpected,
and purely a condescension on his part; he dares even pledge his word
that a certain proposal will be approved of, and that his master will
not disavow his proceedings; he allows false reports to be spread
concerning his instructions, which are represented as very limited,
but he knows he has some private instructions which he never discloses
until obliged to do so, and when it would damage him not to bring them
forward. All his intrigues aim at something solid and substantial,
for which he always is ready to sacrifice punctilios and imaginary
points of honour. He possesses a great deal of coolness, is armed with
courage and patience, and wearies and discourages others, but is never
weary himself! He takes precautions and is hardened against all delays
and procrastination, against all reproaches, suspicions, mistrust,
difficulties, and obstacles, convinced that time and circumstances
will influence the minds of his opponents, and accomplish the desired
end. He goes so far as to pretend he has a secret purpose in breaking
off the negotiations, while he passionately desires their continuance;
but, on the contrary, when he has strict orders to do his utmost to
break them off, he thinks the best way to effect it is to urge they
should be continued and speedily despatched. If some important event
happens, he affects either haughtiness or affability, as it may be to
his advantage or prejudice; and if he is so perspicacious as to foresee
it, he hurries it on or temporises according as the state for whom he
labours dreads or desires it, and acts according to these emergencies.
He shapes his actions to suit time, place, and opportunities, his own
strength or weakness, the genius of the nation he has to deal with, and
the mood and character of the personages with whom he is negotiating.
All his designs and maxims, all the devices of his policy, tend only to
prevent his being deceived, and to deceive others.[506]
(13.) The French nation require their sovereign to be grave in his
deportment.[507]
(14.) One of the misfortunes of a prince is to be often overburdened
with a secret of which the communication would be dangerous; he is
fortunate if he can meet with a faithful confidant to whom he can
unbosom himself.[508]
(15). A prince can get everything he wants except the pleasures of a
private life: only the charms of friendship and the fidelity of his
friends can console him for such a great loss.
(16.) A monarch who deservedly fills a throne finds it pleasant
sometimes to be less grand, to quit the stage, to leave off the
theatrical cloak and buskins,[509] and act a more familiar part with a
confidant.
(17.) Nothing is more creditable to a prince than the modesty of his
favourite.
(18.) No ties of friendship or consanguinity affect a favourite; he may
be surrounded on all sides by relatives and friends, but he does not
mind them; he is detached from everything, and, as it were, isolated.
(19.) The best thing a man can do who has fallen into disgrace is to
retire from the court, for it would be better for him to disappear
than to wander about in society as a former favourite, and to act a
wholly different part from his first one. If he does this and remains
in solitude, his career will be looked upon as marvellous; and though
he dies, as it were, before his time, people will only remember his
splendour and his kindness.
A favourite who has fallen into disgrace can behave still better than
by becoming a hermit and trying to be forgotten, namely, by attempting
some lofty and noble deed, if he can do so, for which he will be
greatly praised, his reputation exalted, or, at least, confirmed; and
by which also it will be clearly proved that he deserved his former
favour, so that people will pity his downfall, and partly blame his
ill-luck.[510]
(20.) I do not doubt that a favourite who has a sufficiently powerful
and lofty mind must often feel embarrassed and abashed at the meanness,
littleness, and flattery, at the superfluous cares and frivolous
attentions of those who run after him, follow him, and cling to him,
like the vile creatures they are; no doubt he laughs and sneers at them
in private to make amends for the restraint he has to impose on himself
in public.
(21.) Ye who are in office, ministers of state or favourites, give
me leave to offer you some advice. Do not trust to your progeny to
look after your reputation when you are gone, or expect that they
will preserve the lustre of your name; titles pass away, a princeʼs
favour is evanescent, honours are lost, wealth is spent, and merit
degenerates. It is true you have children worthy of you, and I shall
even add, capable of maintaining the position you leave them; but can
you say the same thing of your grandchildren? Do not believe me, but
cast your eyes for once on some men whom you despise, and who are
descended from the very persons to whom you succeed, though you are
now in such a high position. Be virtuous and humane; and, if you ask
what more is necessary, I will tell you: “Humanity and virtue.” Then
you can command the future and be independent of posterity; then you
can be certain to last as long as the monarchy. And when in ages to
come some people will point out the ruins of your castles, and perhaps
only the spot where they once existed, the thought of your praiseworthy
deeds will still remain fresh in their minds; they will look eagerly
at portraits and medallions of you, and will say, “The man[511] whose
effigies you behold was one who dared to address his prince forcibly
and freely, and was more afraid of injuring than of displeasing him;
he did not oppose his being good and generous, nor his speaking of
his good cities and of his good people. In this other personage whose
portrait you see[512] you will observe strongly marked lineaments and
an austere and majestic air; his reputation increases every year, and
the greatest politicians cannot compete with him. His chief design was
to establish the authority of the prince, and to ensure the lives and
property of the people by destroying the power of the great; from this,
neither the opposition of various parties, conspiracies, treacheries,
the risk of being assassinated, nor his own infirmities, were able to
divert him; he accomplished it, and yet he had leisure to commence
another enterprise, since continued and completed by the best and
greatest of our princes, the extirpation of heresy.”[513]
(22.) The most artful and plausible snare that ever was set for great
men by their men of business, or for kings by their ministers, has been
the advice of liquidating their debts whilst enriching themselves.[514]
Such advice is admirable, such a maxim is useful and productive, and
proves a gold mine and a Peru, at least to those who have hitherto had
the address to instil it into their mastersʼ minds.[515]
(23.) Happy indeed is that nation whose prince appoints the very same
persons for his confidants and ministers whom the people would have
chosen themselves if they could have done so.
(24.) The mastering of the details of business and a diligent
application to the smallest necessities of the state are essential
to a good administration, though, in truth, too much neglected in
these latter times by kings and their ministers; it is a knowledge
greatly to be desired in a prince who is ignorant of it, and highly
to be valued in him who has acquired it.[516] Indeed, what benefits
and what increase of pleasure would accrue to a people by their
prince extending the bounds of his empire into the territories of his
enemies, by their sovereignties becoming provinces of his kingdom, by
his overcoming them in sieges and battles, by neither the plains nor
the strongest fortifications affording any security against him, by
the neighbouring nations asking aid of one another, and entering into
leagues to defend themselves and put a stop to his conquests, by their
leagues being in vain, by his continual advances and triumphs, by their
last hopes being frustrated by the monarch recovering his health,[517]
and thus affording him the pleasure of seeing the young princes, his
grandchildren, maintain and enhance his glory, beholding them lead an
army into the field, take the strongest fortresses, conquer new states,
command old and experienced officers rather by their genius and merit
than by the privilege of their noble birth, observing them tread in
the footsteps of their victorious father and imitate his goodness, his
willingness to learn, his justice, vigilance, and magnanimity. What
signifies it to me, in a word, or to any of my fellow-subjects, that
my sovereign be successful and overwhelmed with glory, through his own
actions as well as through those of his family and servants; that my
country is powerful and dreaded, if, sad and uneasy, I have to live
oppressed and poor; if, while I am secured against any inroads of the
enemy, I am exposed in the public squares or the streets of our cities
to the dagger of the assassin; or if rapine and violence are less to
be feared in the darkest nights amidst the densest forests than in our
streets; if security, order, and cleanliness have not rendered the
residing in our cities so delightful, and have not introduced there
plenty as well as the pleasures of social intercourse; or if, being
weak and defenceless, my property is to be encroached upon by some
great man in the neighbourhood; if there is not a provision made to
protect me against his injustice; if I have not within reach so many
masters, and excellent masters too, to instruct my children in sciences
and arts, which will one day raise their fortunes; if the improvement
of trade will not facilitate my providing myself with more decent
clothing[518] and wholesome food for my sustenance, at a reasonable
rate; if, to conclude, through the care my sovereign takes of me, I am
not as satisfied with my lot as his virtues must needs make him with
his own?
(25.) Eight or ten thousand men are to a prince like money; with
their lives he buys a town or a victory; but, if he can obtain either
at a cheaper rate, and is sparing of them, he is like a man who is
bargaining and knows better than any other the value of money.
(26.) All things succeed in a monarchy where the interests of the state
are identical with those of the prince.
(27.) To call a king the father of his people[519] is not so much to
eulogise him as to call him by his name and to define what he is.
(28.) There exists a sort of interchange or permutation of duties
between a sovereign and his subjects, and between them and him; and
I shall not decide which are most obligatory and most difficult. On
the one hand, we have to determine what are the bounden duties of
reverence, assistance, service, obedience, and dependence, and on the
other what are the indispensable obligations of goodness, justice, and
protection. To say the prince can dispose of the lives of the people,
is to tell us only that through their crimes men have become subjected
to the laws and justice which the king administers; to add that he is
absolute master of all his subjectsʼ goods without any considerations,
without rendering any accounts, or without discussion, is the language
of flattery, the opinion of a favourite who will recant on his
deathbed.[520]
(29.) When on a fine evening a numerous flock of sheep is seen on a
hill quietly browsing thyme and wild thyme, or nibbling in a meadow
the short and tender grass which has escaped the scythe of the reaper,
the careful and diligent shepherd is amongst them; he does not lose
sight of them, but follows them, leads them, changes their pasture;
if they wander, he calls them together; if a hungry wolf approaches,
he sets his dog on to beat him off; he keeps them and defends them;
and when the sun rises he is already in the fields, which he leaves at
its setting. What an amount of care, watchfulness, and assiduity is
needed! Which condition seems to you the most delicious and the most
unfettered, that of the sheep or of the shepherd? Was the flock made
for the shepherd or the shepherd for the flock? This is an artless
representation of a nation and its prince, but then the prince must be
good.