Hannibal, when recalled by the Carthaginians from Italy, where for

sixteen years he had covered himself with glory, to the defence of his

native country, found on his arrival that Hasdrubal and Syphax had been

defeated, the kingdom of Numidia lost, and Carthage confined within the

limits of her walls, and left without other resource save in him and

his army. Perceiving, therefore, that this was the last stake his

country had to play, and not choosing to hazard it until he had tried

every other expedient, he felt no shame to sue for peace, judging that

in peace rather than in war lay the best hope of safety for his

country. But, when peace was refused him, no fear of defeat deterred

him from battle, being resolved either to conquer, if conquer he might,

or if he must fall, to fall gloriously. Now, if a commander so valiant

as Hannibal, at the head of an unconquered army, was willing to sue for

peace rather than appeal to battle when he saw that by defeat his

country must be enslaved, what course ought to be followed by another

commander, less valiant and with less experience than he? But men

labour under this infirmity, that they know not where to set bounds to

their hopes, and building on these without otherwise measuring their

strength, rush headlong on destruction.

CHAPTER XXVIII.—_That to neglect the redress of Grievances, whether

public or private, is dangerous for a Prince or Commonwealth_.

Certain Gauls coming to attack Etruria, and more particularly Clusium

its chief city, the citizens of Clusium sought aid from Rome; whereupon

the Romans sent the three Fabii, as envoys to these Gauls, to notify to

them, in the name of the Roman people, that they must refrain from

making war on the Etruscans. From what befell the Romans in connection

with this embassy, we see clearly how far men may be carried in

resenting an affront. For these envoys arriving at the very moment when

the Gauls and Etruscans were about to join battle, being readier at

deeds than words, took part with the Etruscans and fought in their

foremost ranks. Whence it came that the Gauls recognizing the Roman

envoys, turned against the Romans all the hatred which before they had

felt for the Etruscans; and grew still more incensed when on making

complaint to the Roman senate, through their ambassador, of the wrong

done them, and demanding that the Fabii should be given up to them in

atonement for their offence, not merely were the offenders not given up

or punished in any way, but, on the contrary, when the comitia met were

created tribunes with consular powers. But when the Gauls found these

men honoured who deserved to be chastised, they concluded that what had

happened had been done by way of slight and insult to them, and,

burning with fury and resentment, hastened forward to attack Rome,

which they took with the exception of the Capitol.

Now this disaster overtook the Romans entirely from their disregard of

justice. For their envoys, who had violated the law of nations, and had

therefore deserved punishment, they had on the contrary treated with

honour. And this should make us reflect, how carefully all princes and

commonwealths ought to refrain from committing like wrongs, not only

against communities, but also against particular men. For if a man be

deeply wronged, either by a private hand or by a public officer, and be

not avenged to his satisfaction, if he live in a republic, he will seek

to avenge himself, though in doing so he bring ruin on his country; or

if he live under a prince, and be of a resolute and haughty spirit, he

will never rest until he has wreaked his resentment against the prince,

though he knows it may cost him dear. Whereof we have no finer or truer

example than in the death of Philip of Macedon, the father of

Alexander. For Pausanias, a handsome and high-born youth belonging to

Philip’s court, having been most foully and cruelly dishonoured by

Attalus, one of the foremost men of the royal household, repeatedly

complained to Philip of the outrage; who for a while put him off with

promises of vengeance, but in the end, so far from avenging him,

promoted Attalus to be governor of the province of Greece. Whereupon,

Pausanias, seeing his enemy honoured and not punished, turned all his

resentment from him who had outraged, against him who had not avenged

him, and on the morning of the day fixed for the marriage of Philip’s

daughter to Alexander of Epirus, while Philip walked between the two

Alexanders, his son and his son-in-law, towards the temple to celebrate

the nuptials, he slew him.

This instance nearly resembles that of the Roman envoys; and offers a

warning to all rulers never to think so lightly of any man as to

suppose, that when wrong upon wrong has been done him, he will not

bethink himself of revenge, however great the danger he runs, or the

punishment he thereby brings upon himself.

CHAPTER XXIX.—_That Fortune obscures the minds of Men when she would

not have them hinder her Designs._

If we note well the course of human affairs, we shall often find things

come about and accidents befall, against which it seems to be the will

of Heaven that men should not provide. And if this were the case even

in Rome, so renowned for her valour, religion, and wise ordinances, we

need not wonder if it be far more common in other cities and provinces

wherein these safeguards are wanting.

Having here a notable opportunity to show how Heaven influences men’s

actions, Titus Livius turns it to account, and treats the subject at

large and in pregnant words, where he says, that since it was Heaven’s

will, for ends of its own, that the Romans should feel its power, it

first of all caused these Fabii, who were sent as envoys to the Gauls,

to act amiss, and then by their misconduct stirred up the Gauls to make

war on Rome; and, lastly, so ordered matters that nothing worthy of

their name was done by the Romans to withstand their attack. For it was

fore-ordained by Heaven that Camillus, who alone could supply the

remedy to so mighty an evil, should be banished to Ardea; and again,

that the citizens, who had often created a dictator to meet attacks of

the Volscians and other neighbouring hostile nations, should fail to do

so when the Gauls were marching upon Rome. Moreover, the army which the

Romans got together was but a weak one, since they used no signal

effort to make it strong; nay, were so dilatory in arming that they

were barely in time to meet the enemy at the river Allia, though no

more than ten miles distant from Rome. Here, again, the Roman tribunes

pitched their camp without observing any of the usual precautions,

attending neither to the choice of ground, nor to surround themselves

with trench or Palisade, nor to avail themselves of any other aid,

human or Divine. In ordering their army for battle, moreover, disposed

it in weak columns, and these far apart: so that neither men nor

officers accomplished anything worthy of the Roman discipline. The

battle was bloodless for the Romans fled before they were attacked;

most of them retreating to Veii, the rest to Rome, where, without

turning aside to visit their homes, they made straight for the Capitol.

Meanwhile, the senate, so far from bethinking themselves how they might

defend the city, did not even attend to closing the gates; and while

some of them made their escape from Rome, others entered the Capitol

along with those who sought shelter there. It was only in the defence

of the Capitol that any method was observed, measures being taken to

prevent it being crowded with useless numbers, and all the victual

which could be got, being brought into it to enable it to stand a

siege. Of the women, the children, and the men whose years unfitted

them for service, the most part fled for refuge to the neighbouring

towns, the rest remained in Rome a prey to the invaders; so that no one

who had heard of the achievements of the Romans in past years, on being

told of what took place on this occasion, could have believed that it

was of the same people that things so contrary were related.

Wherefore, Titus Livius, after setting forth all these disorders,

concludes with the words, “_So far does Fortune darken men’s minds when

she would not have her ascendency gainsaid._” Nor could any juster

observation be made. And hence it is that those who experience the

extremes whether of good or of evil fortune, are, commonly, little

deserving either of praise or blame; since it is apparent that it is

from Heaven having afforded them, or denied them opportunities for

acting worthily, that they have been brought to their greatness or to

their undoing. Fortune, doubtless, when she seeks to effect great ends,

will often choose as her instrument a man of such sense and worth that

he can recognize the opportunities which she holds out to him; and, in

like manner, when she desires to bring about great calamities, will put

forward such men as will of themselves contribute to that result. And

all who stand in her way, she either removes by death, or deprives of

the means of effecting good. And it is well seen in the passage we are

considering, how Fortune, to aggrandize Rome, and raise her to the

height she reached, judged it necessary, as shall be more fully shown

in the following Book, to humble her; yet would not have her utterly

undone. For which reason we find her causing Camillus to be banished,

but not put to death; suffering Rome to be taken, but not the Capitol;

and bringing it to pass that, while the Romans took no wise precaution

for the defence of their city, they neglected none in defending their

citadel. That Rome might be taken, Fortune caused the mass of the army,

after the rout at the Allia, to direct its flight to Veii, thus

withdrawing the means wherewith the city might have been defended; but

while thus disposing matters, she at the same time prepared all the

needful steps for its recovery, in bringing an almost entire Roman

array to Veii, and Camillus to Ardea, so that a great force might be

assembled for the rescue of their country, under a captain in no way

compromised by previous reverses, but, on the contrary, in the

enjoyment of an untarnished renown. I might cite many modern instances

to confirm these opinions, but since enough has been said to convince

any fair mind, I pass them over. But once more I repeat what, from all

history, may be seen to be most true, that men may aid Fortune, but not

withstand her; may interweave their threads with her web, but cannot

break it But, for all that, they must never lose heart, since not

knowing what their end is to be, and moving towards it by cross-roads

and untravelled paths, they have always room for hope, and ought never

to abandon it, whatsoever befalls, and into whatsoever straits they

come.

CHAPTER XXX.—_That really powerful Princes and, Commonwealths do not

buy Friendships with Money, but with their Valour and the Fame of their

Prowess_.

When besieged in the Capitol, the Romans although expecting succour

from Veii and from Camillus, nevertheless, being straitened by famine,

entered into an agreement to buy off the Gauls with gold But at the

very moment when, in pursuance of this agreement, the gold was being

weighed out, Camillus came up with his army. This, says our historian,

was contrived by Fortune, “_that the Romans might not live thereafter

as men ransomed for a price,_” and the matter is noteworthy, not only

with reference to this particular occasion, but also as it bears on the

methods generally followed by this republic. For we never find Rome

seeking to acquire towns, or to purchase peace with money, but always

confiding in her own warlike valour, which could not, I believe, be

said of any other republic.

Now, one of the tests whereby to gauge the strength of any State, is to

observe on what terms it lives with its neighbours: for when it so

carries itself that, to secure its friendship, its neighbours pay it

tribute, this is a sure sign of its strength, but when its neighbours,

though of less reputation, receive payments from it, this is a clear

proof of its weakness In the course of the Roman history we read how

the Massilians, the Eduans, the Rhodians, Hiero of Syracuse, the Kings

Eumenes and Massinissa, all of them neighbours to the Roman frontiers,

in order to secure the friendship of Rome, submitted to imposts and

tribute whenever Rome had need of them, asking no return save her

protection. But with a weak State we find the reverse of all this

happening And, to begin with our own republic of Florence, we know that

in times past, when she was at the height of her renown, there was

never a lordling of Romagna who had not a subsidy from her, to say

nothing of what she paid to the Perugians, to the Castellans, and to

all her other neighbours But had our city been armed and strong, the

direct contrary would have been the case, for, to obtain her

protection, all would have poured money into her lap, not seeking to

sell their friendship but to purchase hers.

Nor are the Florentines the only people who have lived on this

dishonourable footing The Venetians have done the same, nay, the King

of France himself, for all his great dominions, lives tributary to the

Swiss and to the King of England; and this because the French king and

the others named, with a view to escape dangers rather imaginary than

real, have disarmed their subjects; seeking to reap a present gain by

wringing money from them, rather than follow a course which would

secure their own safety and the lasting welfare of their country. Which

ill-practices of theirs, though they quiet things for a time, must in

the end exhaust their resources, and give rise in seasons of danger to

incurable mischief and disorder. It would be tedious to count up how

often in the course of their wars, the Florentines, the Venetians, and

the kingdom of France have had to ransom themselves from their enemies,

and to submit to an ignominy to which, once only, the Romans were very

near being subjected. It would be tedious, too, to recite how many

towns have been bought by the Florentines and by the Venetians, which,

afterwards, have only been a trouble to them, from their not knowing

how to defend with iron what they had won with gold. While the Romans

continued free they adhered to this more generous and noble method, but

when they came under the emperors, and these, again, began to

deteriorate, and to love the shade rather than the sunshine, they also

took to purchasing peace, now from the Parthians, now from the Germans,

and at other times from other neighbouring nations. And this was the

beginning of the decline of their great empire.

Such are the evils that befall when you withhold arms from your

subjects; and this course is attended by the still greater

disadvantage, that the closer an enemy presses you the weaker he finds

you. For any one who follows the evil methods of which I speak, must,

in order to support troops whom he thinks can be trusted to keep off

his enemies, be very exacting in his dealings with those of his

subjects who dwell in the heart of his dominions; since, to widen the

interval between himself and his enemies, he must subsidize those

princes and peoples who adjoin his frontiers. States maintained on this

footing may make a little resistance on their confines; but when these

are passed by the enemy no further defence remains. Those who pursue

such methods as these seem not to perceive that they are opposed to

reason and common sense. For the heart and vital parts of the body, not

the extremities, are those which we should keep guarded, since we may

live on without the latter, but must die if the former be hurt. But the

States of which I speak, leaving the heart undefended, defend only the

hands and feet. The mischief which has thus been, and is at this day

wrought in Florence is plain enough to see. For so soon as an enemy

penetrates within her frontiers, and approaches her heart, all is over

with her. And the same was witnessed a few years ago in the case of the

Venetians, whose city, had it not been girdled by the sea, must then

have found its end. In France, indeed, a like result has not been seen

so often, she being so great a kingdom as to have few enemies mightier

than herself. Nevertheless, when the English invaded France in the year

1513, the whole kingdom tottered; and the King himself, as well as

every one else, had to own that a single defeat might have cost him his

dominions.

But with the Romans the reverse of all this took place. For the nearer

an enemy approached Rome, the more completely he found her armed for

resistance; and accordingly we see that on the occasion of Hannibal’s

invasion of Italy, the Romans, after three defeats, and after the

slaughter of so many of their captains and soldiers, were still able,

not merely to withstand the invader, but even, in the end, to come off

victorious. This we may ascribe to the heart being well guarded, while

the extremities were but little heeded. For the strength of Rome rested

on the Roman people themselves, on the Latin league, on the confederate

towns of Italy, and on her colonies, from all of which sources she drew

so numerous an army, as enabled her to subdue the whole world and to

keep it in subjection.

The truth of what I say may be further seen from the question put by

Hanno the Carthaginian to the messengers sent to Carthage by Hannibal

after his victory at Cannæ. For when these were vaunting the

achievements of Hannibal, they were asked by Hanno whether any one had

come forward on behalf of the Romans to propose terms of peace, and

whether any town of the Latin league or of the colonized districts had

revolted from the Romans. And when to both inquiries the envoys

answered, “No,” Hanno observed that the war was no nearer an end than

on the day it was begun.

We can understand, therefore, as well from what has now been said, as

from what I have often said before, how great a difference there is

between the methods followed by the republics of the present times, and

those followed by the republics of antiquity; and why it is that we see

every day astounding losses alternate with extraordinary gains. For

where men are weak, Fortune shows herself strong; and because she

changes, States and Governments change with her; and will continue to

change, until some one arise, who, following reverently the example of

the ancients, shall so control her, that she shall not have opportunity

with every revolution of the sun to display anew the greatness of her

power.

CHAPTER XXXI.—_Of the Danger of trusting banished Men._

The danger of trusting those who are in exile from their own country,

being one to which the rulers of States are often exposed, may, I

think, be fitly considered in these Discourses; and I notice it the

more willingly, because I am able to illustrate it by a memorable

instance which Titus Livius, though with another purpose, relates in

his history. When Alexander the Great passed with his army into Asia,

his brother-in-law and uncle, Alexander of Epirus, came with another

army into Italy, being invited thither by the banished Lucanians, who

gave him to believe that, with their aid, he might get possession of

the whole of that country. But when, confiding in the promises of these

exiles, and fed by the hopes they held out to him, he came into Italy,

they put him to death, their fellow-citizens having offered to restore

them to their country upon this condition. It behoves us, therefore, to

remember how empty are the promises, and how doubtful the faith, of men

in banishment from their native land. For as to their faith, it may be

assumed that whenever they can effect their return by other means than

yours, notwithstanding any covenants they may have made with you, they

will throw you over, and take part with their countrymen. And as for

the empty promises and delusive hopes which they set before you, so

extreme is their desire to return home that they naturally believe many

things which are untrue, and designedly misrepresent many others; so

that between their beliefs and what they say they believe, they fill

you with false impressions, on which if you build, your labour is in

vain, and you are led to engage in enterprises from which nothing but

ruin can result.

To this instance of Alexander I shall add only one other, that, namely,

of Themistocles the Athenian, who, being proclaimed a traitor, fled

into Asia to Darius, to whom he made such lavish promises if he would

only attack Greece, that he induced him to undertake the enterprise.

But afterwards, when he could not fulfil what he had promised, either

from shame, or through fear of punishment, he poisoned himself. But, if

such a mistake as this was made by a man like Themistocles, we may

reckon that mistakes still greater will be made by those who, being of

a feebler nature, suffer themselves to be more completely swayed by

their feelings and wishes Wherefore, let a prince be careful how he

embarks in any enterprise on the representations of an exile; for

otherwise, he is likely either to be put to shame, or to incur the

gravest calamities.

Because towns are sometimes, though seldom, taken by craft, through

secret practices had with their inhabitants, I think it not out of

place to discuss the matter in the following Chapter, wherein I shall

likewise show in how many ways the Romans were wont to make such

acquisitions.

CHAPTER XXXII.—_In how many Ways the Romans gained Possession of

Towns._

Turning their thoughts wholly to arms, the Romans always conducted

their military enterprises in the most advantageous way, both as to

cost and every other circumstance of war. For which reason they avoided

attempting towns by siege, judging the expense and inconvenience of

this method of carrying on war greatly to outweigh any advantage to be

gained by it. Accordingly, they thought it better and more for their

interest to reduce towns in any other way than this; and in all those

years during which they were constantly engaged in wars we find very

few instances of their proceeding by siege.

For the capture of towns, therefore, they trusted either to assault or

to surrender. Assaults were effected either by open force, or by force

and stratagem combined. When a town was assailed by open force, the

walls were stormed without being breached, and the assailants were said

“_aggredi urbem corona,_” because they encircled the city with their

entire strength and kept up an attack on all sides. In this way they

often succeeded in carrying towns, and even great towns, at a first

onset, as when Scipio took new Carthage in Spain. But when they failed

to carry a town by storm, they set themselves to breach the walls with

battering rams and other warlike engines; or they dug mines so as to

obtain an entrance within the walls, this being the method followed in

taking Veii; or else, to be on a level with the defenders, they erected

towers of timber or threw up mounds of earth against the outside of the

walls so as to reach the top.

Of these methods of attack, the first, wherein the city was entirely

surrounded, exposed the defenders to more sudden perils and left them

more doubtful remedies. For while it was necessary for them to have a

sufficient force at all points, it might happen that the forces at

their disposal were not numerous enough to be everywhere at once, or to

relieve one another. Or if their numbers were sufficient, they might

not all be equally resolute in standing their ground, and their failure

at any one point involved a general defeat. Consequently, as I have

said, this method of attack was often successful. But when it did not

succeed at the first, it was rarely renewed, being a method dangerous

to the attacking army, which having to secure itself along an extended

line, was left everywhere too weak to resist a sally made from the

town; nay, of itself, was apt to fall into confusion and disorder. This

method of attack, therefore, could be attempted once only and by way of

surprise.

Against breaches in the walls the defence was, as at the present day,

to throw up new works; while mines were met by counter-mines, in which

the enemy were either withstood at the point of the sword, or baffled

by some other warlike contrivance; as by filling casks with feathers,

which, being set on fire and placed in the mine, choked out the

assailants by their smoke and stench. Where towers were employed for

the attack, the defenders sought to destroy them with fire; and where

mounds of earth were thrown up against the walls, they would dig holes

at the base of the wall against which the mound rested, and carry off

the earth which the enemy were heaping up; which, being removed from

within as fast as it was thrown up from without, the mound made no

progress.

None of these methods of attack can long be persisted in and the

assailant, if unsuccessful, must either strike his camp and seek

victory in some other direction, as Scipio did when he invaded Africa

and, after failing in the attempt to storm Utica, withdrew from his

attack on that town and turned his strength against the Carthaginian

army in the field; or else recourse must be had to regular siege, as by

the Romans at Veii, Capua, Carthage, Jerusalem, and divers other cities

which they reduced in this way.

The capture of towns by stratagem combined with force is effected, as

by the Romans at Palæopolis, through a secret understanding with some

within the walls. Many attempts of this sort have been made, both by

the Romans and by others, but few successfully, because the least

hindrance disarranges the plan of action, and because such hindrances

are very likely to occur. For either the plot is discovered before it

can be carried out, as it readily may, whether from treachery on the

part of those to whom it has been communicated, or from the

difficulties which attend its inception, the preliminary arrangements

having to be made with the enemy and with persons with whom it is not

permitted, save under some pretext or other, to hold intercourse; or if

it be not discovered while it is being contrived, a thousand

difficulties will still be met with in its execution. For if you arrive

either before or after the appointed time, all is ruined. The faintest

sound, as of the cackling of the geese in the Capitol, the least

departure from some ordinary routine, the most trifling mistake or

error, mars the whole enterprise. Add to which, the darkness of night

lends further terror to the perils of such undertakings; while the

great majority of those engaged in them, having no knowledge of the

district or places into which they are brought, are bewildered and

disconcerted by the least mishap, and put to flight by every imaginary

danger. In secret nocturnal enterprises of this sort, no man was ever

more successful than Aratus of Sicyon, although in any encounter by day

there never was a more arrant coward. This we must suppose due rather

to some special and occult quality inherent in the man, than to success

being naturally to be looked for in the like attempts. Such

enterprises, accordingly, are often planned, but few are put into

execution, and fewer still with success.

When cities are acquired by surrender, the surrender is either

voluntary or under compulsion; voluntary, when the citizens appeal to

you for protection against some threatened danger from without, as

Capua submitted to the Romans; or where they are moved by a desire to

be better governed, and are attracted by the good government which he

to whom they surrender is seen exercising over others who have placed

themselves in his hands; as was the case with the Rhodians, the

Massilians, and others who for like causes gave themselves up to the

Roman people. Compulsory surrenders take place, either as the result of

a protracted siege, like those we have spoken of above; or from the

country being continually wasted by incursions, forays, and similar

severities, to escape which a city makes its submission.

Of the methods which have been noticed, the Romans, in preference to

all others, used this last; and for four hundred and fifty years made

it their aim to wear out their neighbours by invasion and by defeat in

the open field, while endeavouring, as I have elsewhere said, to

establish their influence over them by treaties and conventions. It was

to this method of warfare therefore that they always mainly trusted,

because, after trying all others, they found none so free from

inconvenience and disadvantage—the procedure by siege involving expense

and delay, that by assault, difficulty and danger, and that by secret

practice, uncertainty and doubt. They found, likewise, that while in

subduing one obstinate city by siege many years might be wasted, a

kingdom might be gained in a single day by the defeat of a hostile army

in the field.

CHAPTER XXXIII.—_That the Romans intrusted the Captains of their Armies

with the fullest Powers._

In reading this History of Titus Livius with a view to profit by it, I

think that all the methods of conduct followed by the Roman people and

senate merit attention. And among other things fit to be considered, it

should be noted, with how ample an authority they sent forth their

consuls, their dictators, and the other captains of their armies, all

of whom we find clothed with the fullest powers: no other prerogative

being reserved to itself by the senate save that of declaring war and

making peace, while everything else was left to the discretion and

determination of the consul. For so soon as the people and senate had

resolved on war, for instance on a war against the Latins, they threw

all further responsibility upon the consul, who might fight or decline

battle as he pleased, and attack this or the other city as he thought

fit.

That this was so, is seen in many instances, and especially from what

happened during an expedition made against the Etruscans. For the

consul Fabius having routed that people near Sutrium, and thinking to

pass onward through the Ciminian forest into Etruria, so far from

seeking the advice of the senate, gave them no hint whatever of his

design, although for its execution the war had to be carried into a

new, difficult, and dangerous country. We have further witness to the

same effect, in the action taken in respect of this enterprise by the

senate, who being informed of the victory obtained by Fabius, and

apprehending that he might decide to pass onward through the aforesaid

forest, and deeming it inexpedient that he should incur risk by

attempting this invasion, sent two messengers to warn him not to enter

Etruria. These messengers, however, did not come up with the consul

until he had already made his way into that country and gained a second

victory; when, instead of opposing his further advance, they returned

to Rome to announce his good fortune and the glory which he had won.

Whoever, therefore, shall well consider the character of the authority

whereof I speak, will see that it was most wisely accorded; since had

it been the wish of the senate that a consul, in conducting a war,

should proceed step by step as they might direct him, this must have

made him at once less cautious and more dilatory; because the credit of

victory would not then have seemed to be wholly his own, but shared by

the senate on whose advice he acted. Besides which, the senate must

have taken upon itself the task of advising on matters which it could

not possibly understand; for although it might contain among its

members all who were most versed in military affairs, still, since

these men were not on the spot, and were ignorant of many particulars

which, if they were to give sound advice, it was necessary for them to

know, they must in advising have made numberless mistakes. For these

reasons they desired that the consul should act on his own

responsibility, and that the honours of success should be wholly his;

judging that the love of fame would act on him at once as a spur and as

a curb, making him do whatever he had to do well.

This matter I have the rather dwelt upon because I observe that our

modern republics, such as the Venetian and the Florentine, view it in a

different light; so that when their captains, commissaries, or

_provedditori_ have a single gun to place in position, the authorities

at home must be informed and consulted; a course deserving the same

approval as is due to all those other methods of theirs, which, one

with another, have brought Italy to her present condition.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.—_For a Sect or Commonwealth to last long, it must often be

brought back to its Beginnings._

Doubtless, all the things of this world have a limit set to their

duration; yet those of them the bodies whereof have not been suffered

to grow disordered, but have been so cared for that either no change at

all has been wrought in them, or, if any, a change for the better and

not for the worse, will run that course which Heaven has in a general

way appointed them. And since I am now speaking of mixed bodies, for

States and Sects are so to be regarded, I say that for them these are

wholesome changes which bring them back to their first beginnings.

Those States consequently stand surest and endure longest which, either

by the operation of their institutions can renew themselves, or come to

be renewed by accident apart from any design. Nothing, however, can be

clearer than that unless thus renewed these bodies do not last. Now the

way to renew them is, as I have said, to bring them back to their

beginnings, since all beginnings of sects, commonwealths, or kingdoms

must needs have in them a certain excellence, by virtue of which they

gain their first reputation and make their first growth. But because in

progress of time this excellence becomes corrupted, unless something be

done to restore it to what it was at first, these bodies necessarily

decay; for as the physicians tell us in speaking of the human body,

“_Something or other is daily added which sooner or later will require

treatment._”[10]

[10] “Quod quotidie aggregatur aliquid quod quandoque indiget

curatione.”

As regards commonwealths, this return to the point of departure is

brought about either by extrinsic accident or by intrinsic foresight.

As to the first, we have seen how it was necessary that Rome should be

taken by the Gauls, that being thus in a manner reborn, she might

recover life and vigour, and resume the observances of religion and

justice which she had suffered to grow rusted by neglect. This is well

seen from those passages of Livius wherein he tells us that when the

Roman army was ‘sent forth against the Gauls, and again when tribunes

were created with consular authority, no religious rites whatever were

celebrated, and wherein he further relates how the Romans not only

failed to punish the three Fabii, who contrary to the law of nations

had fought against the Gauls, but even clothed them with honour. For,

from these instances, we may well infer that the rest of the wise

ordinances instituted by Romulus, and the other prudent kings, had

begun to be held of less account than they deserved, and less than was

essential for the maintenance of good government.

And therefore it was that Rome was visited by this calamity from

without, to the end that all her ordinances might be reformed, and the

people taught that it behoved them not only to maintain religion and

justice, but also to esteem their worthy citizens, and to prize their

virtues beyond any advantages of which they themselves might seem to

have been deprived at their instance. And this, we find, was just the

effect produced. For no sooner was the city retaken, than all the

ordinances of the old religion were at once restored; the Fabii, who

had fought in violation of the law of nations, were punished; and the

worth and excellence of Camillus so fully recognized, that the senate

and the whole people, laying all jealousies aside, once more committed

to him the entire charge of public affairs.

It is necessary then, as I have said already, that where men dwell

together in a regulated society, they be often reminded of those

ordinances in conformity with which they ought to live, either by

something inherent in these, or else by some external accident. A

reminder is given in the former of these two ways, either by the

passing of some law whereby the members of the society are brought to

an account; or else by some man of rare worth arising among them, whose

virtuous life and example have the same effect as a law. In a

Commonwealth, accordingly, this end is served either by the virtues of

some one of its citizens, or by the operation of its institutions.

The institutions whereby the Roman Commonwealth was led back to its

starting point, were the tribuneship of the people and the censorship,

together with all those laws which were passed to check the insolence

and ambition of its citizens. Such institutions, however, require fresh

life to be infused into them by the worth of some one man who

fearlessly devotes himself to give them effect in opposition to the

power of those who set them at defiance.

Of the laws being thus reinforced in Rome, before its capture by the

Gauls, we have notable examples in the deaths of the sons of Brutus, of

the Decemvirs, and of Manlius Frumentarius; and after its capture, in

the deaths of Manlius Capitolinus, and of the son of Manlius Torquatus

in the prosecution of his master of the knights by Papirius Cursor, and

in the impeachment of the Scipios. Such examples as these, being signal

and extraordinary, had the effect, whenever they took place, of

bringing men back to the true standard of right; but when they came to

be of rarer occurrence, they left men more leisure to grow corrupted,

and were attended by greater danger and disturbance. Wherefore, between

one and another of these vindications of the laws, no more than ten

years, at most, ought to intervene; because after that time men begin

to change their manners and to disregard the laws; and if nothing occur

to recall the idea of punishment, and unless fear resume its hold on

their minds, so many offenders suddenly spring up together that it is

impossible to punish them without danger. And to this purport it used

to be said by those who ruled Florence from the year 1434 to 1494, that

their government could hardly be maintained unless it was renewed every

five years; by which they meant that it was necessary for them to

arouse the same terror and alarm in men’s minds, as they inspired when

they first assumed the government, and when all who offended against

their authority were signally chastised. For when the recollection of

such chastisement has died out, men are emboldened to engage in new

designs, and to speak ill of their rulers; for which the only remedy is

to restore things to what they were at first.

A republic may, likewise, be brought back to its original form, without

recourse to ordinances for enforcing justice, by the mere virtues of a

single citizen, by reason that these virtues are of such influence and

authority that good men love to imitate them, and bad men are ashamed

to depart from them. Those to whom Rome owed most for services of this

sort, were Horatius Cocles, Mutius Scævola, the two Decii, Atilius

Regulus, and divers others, whose rare excellence and generous example

wrought for their city almost the same results as might have been

effected by ordinances and laws. And if to these instances of

individual worth had been added, every ten years, some signal

enforcement of justice, it would have been impossible for Rome ever to

have grown corrupted. But when both of these incitements to virtuous

behavior began to recur less frequently, corruption spread, and after

the time of Atilius Regulus, no like example was again witnessed. For

though the two Catos came later, so great an interval had elapsed

before the elder Cato appeared, and again, so long a period intervened

between him and the younger, and these two, moreover, stood so much

alone, that it was impossible for them, by their influence, to work any

important change; more especially for the younger, who found Rome so

much corrupted that he could do nothing to improve his fellow-citizens.

This is enough to say concerning commonwealths, but as regards sects,

we see from the instance of our own religion that here too a like

renewal is needed. For had not this religion of ours been brought back

to its original condition by Saint Francis and Saint Dominick, it must

soon have been utterly extinguished. They, however, by their voluntary

poverty, and by their imitation of the life of Christ, rekindled in the

minds of men the dying flame of faith; and by the efficacious rules

which they established averted from our Church that ruin which the ill

lives of its prelates and heads must otherwise have brought upon it.

For living in poverty, and gaining great authority with the people by

confessing them and preaching to them, they got them to believe that it

is evil to speak ill even of what is evil; and that it is good to be

obedient to rulers, who, if they do amiss, may be left to the judgment

of God. By which teaching these rulers are encouraged to behave as

badly as they can, having no fear of punishments which they neither see

nor credit. Nevertheless, it is this renewal which has maintained, and

still maintains, our religion.

Kingdoms also stand in need of a like renewal, and to have their laws

restored to their former force; and we see how, by attending to this,

the kingdom of France has profited. For that kingdom, more than any

other, lies under the control of its laws and ordinances, which are

maintained by its parliaments, and more especially by the parliament of

Paris, from which last they derive fresh vigour whenever they have to

be enforced against any prince of the realm; for this assembly

pronounces sentence even against the king himself. Heretofore this

parliament has maintained its name as the fearless champion of the laws

against the nobles of the land; but should it ever at any future time

suffer wrongs to pass unpunished, and should offences multiply, either

these will have to be corrected with great disturbance to the State, or

the kingdom itself must fall to pieces.

This, then, is our conclusion—that nothing is so necessary in any

society, be it a religious sect, a kingdom, or a commonwealth, as to

restore to it that reputation which it had at first, and to see that it

is provided either with wholesome laws, or with good men whose actions

may effect the same ends, without need to resort to external force. For

although this last may sometimes, as in the case of Rome, afford an

efficacious remedy, it is too hazardous a remedy to make us ever wish

to employ it.

And that all may understand how much the actions of particular citizens

helped to make Rome great, and how many admirable results they wrought

in that city, I shall now proceed to set them forth and examine them;

with which survey this Third Book of mine, and last division of the

First Decade of Titus Livius, shall be brought to a close. But,

although great and notable actions were done by the Roman kings,

nevertheless, since history has treated of these at much length, here I

shall pass them over, and say no more about these princes, save as

regards certain things done by them with an eye to their private

interest. I shall begin, therefore, with Brutus, the father of Roman

freedom.

CHAPTER II.—_That on occasion it is wise to feign Folly._

Never did any man by the most splendid achievements gain for himself so

great a name for wisdom and prudence as is justly due to Junius Brutus

for feigning to be a fool. And although Titus Livius mentions one cause

only as having led him to assume this part, namely, that he might live

more securely and look after his patrimony; yet on considering his

behavior we may believe that in counterfeiting folly it was also his

object to escape notice, and so find better convenience to overthrow

the kings, and to free his country whenever an occasion offered. That

this was in his mind is seen first of all from the interpretation he

gave to the oracle of Apollo, when, to render the gods favourable to

his designs, he pretended to stumble, and secretly kissed his mother

earth; and, again, from this, that on the death of Lucretia, though her

father, her husband, and others of her kinsmen were present, he was the

first to draw the dagger from her wound, and bind the bystanders by

oath never more to suffer king to reign in Rome.

From his example all who are discontented with their prince are taught,

first of all, to measure, and to weigh their strength, and if they find

themselves strong enough to disclose their hostility and proclaim open

war, then to take that course as at once the nobler and less dangerous;

but, if too weak to make open war, then sedulously to court the favour

of the prince, using to that end all such methods as they may judge

needful, adapting themselves to his pleasures, and showing delight in

whatever they see him delight in. Such an intimacy, in the first place,

enables you to live securely, and permits you, without incurring any

risk, to share the happy fortunes of the prince, while it affords you

every facility for carrying out your plans. Some, no doubt, will tell

you that you should not stand so near the prince as to be involved in

his downfall; nor yet at such a distance that when he falls you shall

be too far off to use the occasion for rising on his ruin. But although

this mean course, could we only follow it, were certainly the best,

yet, since I believe it to be impracticable, we must resort to the

methods above indicated, and either keep altogether aloof, or else

cleave closely to the prince. Whosoever does otherwise, if he be of

great station, lives in constant peril; nor will it avail him to say,

“I concern myself with nothing; I covet neither honours nor preferment;

my sole wish is to live a quiet and peaceful life.” For such excuses,

though they be listened to, are not accepted; nor can any man of great

position, however much and sincerely he desire it, elect to live this

life of tranquillity since his professions will not be believed; so

that although he might be contented to be let alone, others will not

suffer him to be so. Wherefore, like Brutus, men must feign folly; and

to play the part effectively, and so as to please their prince, must

say, do, see, and praise things contrary to their inclinations.

But now, having spoken of the prudence shown by Brutus when he sought

to recover the freedom of Rome, let us next speak of the severity which

he used to maintain it.

CHAPTER III.—_That to preserve a newly acquired Freedom we must slay

the Sons of Brutus._

The severity used by Brutus in preserving for Rome the freedom he had

won for her, was not less necessary than useful. The spectacle of a

father sitting on the judgment, and not merely sentencing his own sons

to death, but being himself present at their execution, affords an

example rare in history. But those who study the records of ancient

times will understand, that after a change in the form of a government,

whether it be from a commonwealth to a tyranny or from a tyranny to a

commonwealth, those who are hostile to the new order of things must

always be visited with signal punishment. So that he who sets up as a

tyrant and slays not Brutus, and he who creates a free government and

slays not the sons of Brutus, can never maintain himself long. But

since I have elsewhere treated of this matter at large, I shall merely

refer to what has there been said concerning it, and shall cite here

one instance only, happening in our own days, and memorable in the

history of our country.

I speak of Piero Soderini, who thought by his patience and goodness to

overcome the very same temper which prompted the sons of Brutus to

revert to the old government, and who failed in the endeavour. For

although his sagacity should have taught him the necessity, while

chance and the ambition of those who attacked him furnished him with

the opportunity of making an end of them, he never could resolve to

strike the blow; and not merely believed himself able to subdue

disaffection by patience and kindness, and to mitigate the enmity of

particular men by the rewards he held out to them, but also persuaded

himself, and often declared in the presence of his friends, that he

could not confront opposition openly, nor crush his adversaries,

without assuming extraordinary powers and passing laws destructive of

civil equality; which measures, although not afterward used by him for

tyrannical ends, would so alarm the community, that after his death

they would never again consent to appoint a Gonfalonier for life, an

office which he judged it essential both to maintain and strengthen.

Now although these scruples of his were wise and good, we ought never

out of regard for what is good, to suffer an evil to run its course,

since it may well happen that the evil will prevail over the good. And

Piero should have believed that as his acts and intentions were to be

judged by results, he might, if he lived and if fortune befriended him,

have made it clear to all, that what he did was done to preserve his

country, and not from personal ambition; and he might have so contrived

matters that no successor of his could ever turn to bad ends the means

which he had used for good ends. But he was misled by a preconceived

opinion, and failed to understand that ill-will is not to be vanquished

by time nor propitiated by favours. And, so, from not knowing how to

resemble Brutus, he lost power, and fame, and was driven an exile from

his country.

That it is as hard a matter to preserve a princedom as it is to

preserve a commonwealth, will be shown in the Chapter following.

CHAPTER IV.—_That an Usurper is never safe in his Princedom while those

live whom he has deprived of it._

From what befell the elder Tarquin at the hands of the sons of Ancus,

and Servius Tullius at the hands of Tarquin the Proud, we see what an

arduous and perilous course it is to strip a king of his kingdom and

yet suffer him to live on, hoping to conciliate him by benefits. We

see, too, how the elder Tarquin was ruined by his belief that he held

the kingdom by a just title, since it had been given him by the people

and confirmed to him by the senate, never suspecting that the sons of

Ancus would be so stirred by resentment that it would be impossible to

content them with what contented all the rest of Rome. Servius Tullius

again, was ruined through believing that he could conciliate the sons

of Ancus by loading them with favours.

By the fate of the first of these kings every prince may be warned that

he can never live securely in his princedom so long as those from whom

he has taken it survive; while the fate of the second should remind all

rulers that old injuries are not to be healed by subsequent benefits,

and least of all when the new benefit is less in degree than the injury

suffered. And, truly, Servius was wanting in wisdom when he imagined

that the sons of Tarquin would contentedly resign themselves to be the

sons-in-law of one whom they thought should be their subject. For the

desire to reign is so prevailing a passion, that it penetrates the

minds not only of those who are rightful heirs, but also of those who

are not; as happened with the wife of the younger Tarquin, who was

daughter to Servius, but who, possessed by this madness, and setting at

naught all filial duty, incited her husband to take her father’s

kingdom, and with it his life; so much nobler did she esteem it to be a

queen than the daughter of a king. But while the elder Tarquin and

Servius Tullius lost the kingdom from not knowing how to secure

themselves against those whom they had deprived of it, the younger

Tarquin lost it from not observing the ordinances of the old kings, as

shall be shown in the following Chapter.

CHAPTER V.—_How an Hereditary King may come to lose his Kingdom._

Tarquin the Proud, when he had put Servius Tullius to death, inasmuch

as the latter left no heirs, took secure possession of the kingdom,

having nothing to fear from any of those dangers which had stood in the

way of his predecessors. And although the means whereby he made himself

king were hateful and monstrous, nevertheless, had he adhered to the

ancient ordinances of the earlier kings, he might have been endured,

nor would he have aroused both senate and people to combine against him

and deprive him of his government. It was not, therefore, because his

son Sextus violated Lucretia that Tarquin was driven out, but because

he himself had violated the laws of the kingdom, and governed as a

tyrant, stripping the senate of all authority, and bringing everything

under his own control. For all business which formerly had been

transacted in public, and with the sanction of the senate, he caused to

be transacted in his palace, on his own responsibility, and to the

displeasure of every one else, and so very soon deprived Rome of

whatever freedom she had enjoyed under her other kings.

Nor was it enough for him to have the Fathers his enemies, but he must

needs also kindle the commons against him, wearing them out with mere

mechanic labours, very different from the enterprises in which they had

been employed by his predecessors; so that when Rome overflowed with

instances of his cruelty and pride, he had already disposed the minds

of all the citizens to rebel whenever they found the opportunity.

Wherefore, had not occasion offered in the violence done to Lucretia,

some other had soon been found to bring about the same result. But had

Tarquin lived like the other kings, when Sextus his son committed that

outrage, Brutus and Collatinus would have had recourse to him to punish

the offender, and not to the commons of Rome. And hence let princes

learn that from the hour they first violate those laws, customs, and

usages under which men have lived for a great while, they begin to

weaken the foundations of their authority. And should they, after they

have been stripped of that authority, ever grow wise enough to see how

easily princedoms are preserved by those who are content to follow

prudent counsels, the sense of their loss will grieve them far more,

and condemn them to a worse punishment than any they suffer at the

hands of others. For it is far easier to be loved by good men than by

bad, and to obey the laws than to seek to control them.

And to learn what means they must use to retain their authority, they

have only to take example by the conduct of good princes, such as

Timoleon of Corinth, Aratus of Sicyone, and the like, in whose lives

they will find such security and content, both on the side of the ruler

and the ruled, as ought to stir them with the desire to imitate them,

which, for the reasons already given, it is easy for them to do. For

men, when they are well governed, ask no more, nor look for further

freedom; as was the case with the peoples governed by the two whom I

have named, whom they constrained to continue their rulers while they

lived, though both of them sought repeatedly to return to private life.

But because, in this and the two preceding Chapters, I have noticed the

ill-will which arose against the kings, the plots contrived by the sons

of Brutus against their country, and those directed against the elder

Tarquin and Servius Tullius, it seems to me not out of place to

discourse of these matters more at length in the following Chapter, as

deserving the attention both of princes and private citizens.

CHAPTER VI.—_Of Conspiracies._

It were an omission not to say something on the subject of

conspiracies, these being a source of much danger both to princes and

to private men. For we see that many more princes have lost their lives

and states through these than in open warfare; power to wage open war

upon a prince being conceded to few, whereas power to conspire against

him is denied to none. On the other hand, since conspiracies are

attended at every stage by difficulties and dangers, no more hazardous

or desperate undertakings can be engaged in by any private citizen;

whence it comes that while many conspiracies are planned, few effect

their object. Wherefore, to put princes on their guard against these

dangers, and to make subjects more cautious how they take part in them,

and rather learn to live content under whatever government fortune has

assigned them, I shall treat of them at length, without omitting any

noteworthy circumstance which may serve for the instruction of either.

Though, indeed, this is a golden sentence Of Cornelius Tacitus, wherein

he says that “_the past should have our reverence, the present our

obedience, and that we should wish for good princes, but put up with

any._”[11] For assuredly whosoever does otherwise is likely to bring

ruin both on himself and on his country.

[11] _Tac. Hist._ iv. 8.

But, to go deeper into the matter, we have first of all to examine

against whom conspiracies are directed; and we shall find that men

conspire either against their country or their prince; and it is of

these two kinds of conspiracy that at present I desire to speak. For of

conspiracies which have for their object the surrender of cities to

enemies who are besieging them, and of all others contrived for like

ends, I have already said enough.

First, then, I shall treat of those conspiracies which are directed

against a prince, and begin by inquiring into their causes, which are

manifold, but of which one is more momentous than all the rest; I mean,

the being hated by the whole community. For it may reasonably be

assumed, that when a prince has drawn upon himself this universal

hatred, he must also have given special offence to particular men,

which they will be eager to avenge. And this eagerness will be

augmented by the feeling of general ill-will which the prince is seen

to have incurred. A prince ought, therefore, to avoid this load of

public hatred. How he is to do so I need not stop here to explain,

having discussed the matter already in another place; but if he can

guard against this, offence given to particular men will expose him to

but few attacks. One reason being, that there are few men who think so

much of an injury done them as to run great risks to revenge it;

another, that assuming them to have both the disposition and the

courage to avenge themselves, they are restrained by the universal

favour which they see entertained towards the prince.

Injuries are either to a man’s life, to his property, or to his honour.

As regards the first, they who threaten injuries to life incur more

danger than they who actually inflict them; or rather, while great

danger is incurred in threatening, none at all is incurred from

inflicting such injuries. For the dead are past thinking of revenge;

and those who survive, for the most part leave such thoughts to the

dead. But he whose life is threatened, finding himself forced by

necessity either to do or suffer, becomes a man most dangerous to the

prince, as shall be fully explained hereafter.

After menaces to life, injuries to property and honour stir men more

than any others, and of these a Prince has most to beware. For he can

never strip a man so bare of his possessions as not to leave him some

weapon wherewith to redress his wrongs, nor ever so far dishonour him

as to quell the stubborn spirit which prompts revenge. Of all

dishonours those done to the women of a household are the worst; after

which come such personal indignities as nerved the arm of Pausanias

against Philip of Macedon, and of many another against other princes;

and, in our own days, it was no other reason that moved Giulio Belanti

to conspire against Pandolfo, lord of Siena, than that Pandolfo, who

had given him his daughter to wife, afterwards took her from him, as

presently shall be told. Chief among the causes which led the Pazzi to

conspire against the Medici, was the law passed by the latter depriving

them of the inheritance of Giovanni Bonromei.

Another most powerful motive to conspire against a prince is the desire

men feel to free their country from a usurper. This it was which

impelled Brutus and Cassius to conspire against Cæsar, and countless

others against such tyrants as Phalaris, Dionysius, and the like.

Against this humour no tyrant can guard, except by laying down his

tyranny; which as none will do, few escape an unhappy end. Whence the

verses of Juvenal:—

“Few tyrants die a peaceful death, and few

The kings who visit Proserpine’s dread lord,

Unscathed by wounds and blood.”[12]

[12] Ad generum Cereris sine caede et vulnere pauci

Descendunt reges, et sicca morte tiranni.

_Juv. Sat._ x. 112.

Great, as I have said already, are the dangers which men run in

conspiring; for at all times they are in peril, whether in contriving,

in executing, or after execution. And since in conspiracies either many

are engaged, or one only (for although it cannot properly be said of

_one_ man that he _conspires_, there may exist in him the fixed resolve

to put the prince to death), it is only the solitary plotter who

escapes the first of these three stages of danger. For he runs no risk

before executing his design, since as he imparts it to none, there is

none to bring it to the ear of the prince. A deliberate resolve like

this may be conceived by a person in any rank of life, high or low,

base or noble, and whether or no he be the familiar of his prince. For

every one must, at some time or other, have leave to speak to the

prince, and whoever has this leave has opportunity to accomplish his

design. Pausanias, of whom we have made mention so often, slew Philip

of Macedon as he walked between his son and his son-in-law to the

temple, surrounded by a thousand armed guards. Pausanias indeed was

noble, and known to the prince, but Ferdinand of Spain was stabbed in

the neck by a poor and miserable Spaniard; and though the wound was not

mortal, it sufficed to show that neither courage nor opportunity were

wanting to the would-be-assassin. A Dervish, or Turkish priest, drew

his scimitar on Bajazet, father of the Sultan now reigning, and if he

did not wound him, it was from no lack either of daring or of

opportunity. And I believe that there are many who in their minds

desire the deed, no punishment or danger attending the mere wish,

though there be but few who dare do it. For since few or none who

venture, escape death, few are willing to go forward to certain

destruction.

But to pass from these solitary attempts to those in which several are

engaged, I affirm it to be shown by history that all such plots have

been contrived by men of great station, or by those who have been on

terms of close intimacy with the prince, since no others, not being

downright madmen, would ever think of conspiring. For men of humble

rank, and such as are not the intimates of their prince, are neither

fed by the hopes nor possessed of the opportunities essential for such

attempts. Because, in the first place, men of low degree will never

find any to keep faith with them, none being moved to join in their

schemes by those expectations which encourage men to run great risks;

wherefore, so soon as their design has been imparted to two or three,

they are betrayed and ruined. Or, assuming them fortunate enough to

have no traitor of their number, they will be so hampered in the

execution of their plot by the want of easy access to the prince, that

they are sure to perish in the mere attempt. For if even men of great

position, who have ready access to the prince, succumb to the

difficulties which I shall presently notice, those difficulties must be

infinitely increased in the case of men who are without these

advantages. And because when life and property are at stake men are not

utterly reckless, on perceiving themselves to be weak they grow

cautious, and though cursing the tyrant in their hearts, are content to

endure him, and to wait until some one of higher station than they,

comes forward to redress their wrongs. So that should we ever find

these weaklings attempting anything, we may commend their courage

rather than their prudence.

We see, however, that the great majority of conspirators have been

persons of position and the familiars of their prince, and that their

plots have been as often the consequence of excessive indulgence as of

excessive injury; as when Perennius conspired against Commodus,

Plautianus against Severus, and Sejanus against Tiberius; all of whom

had been raised by their masters to such wealth, honours, and

dignities, that nothing seemed wanting to their authority save the

imperial name. That they might not lack this also, they fell to

conspiring against their prince; but in every instance their

conspiracies had the end which their ingratitude deserved.

The only instance in recent times of such attempts succeeding, is the

conspiracy of Jacopo IV. d’Appiano against Messer Piero Gambacorti,

lord of Pisa. For Jacopo, who had been bred and brought up by Piero,

and loaded by him with honours, deprived him of his State. Similar to

this, in our own days, was the conspiracy of Coppola against King

Ferdinand of Aragon. For Coppola had reached such a pitch of power that

he seemed to himself to have everything but sovereignty; in seeking to

obtain which he lost his life; though if any plot entered into by a man

of great position could be expected to succeed, this certainly might,

being contrived, as we may say, by another king, and by one who had the

amplest opportunities for its accomplishment. But that lust of power

which blinds men to dangers darkened the minds of those to whom the

execution of the scheme was committed; who, had they only known how to

add prudence to their villainy, could hardly have missed their aim.

The prince, therefore, who would guard himself against plots, ought

more to fear those men to whom he has been too indulgent, than those to

whom he has done great wrongs. For the latter lack opportunities which

the former have in abundance; and the moving cause is equally strong in

both, lust of power being at least as strong a passion as lust of

revenge. Wherefore, a prince should entrust his friends with so much

authority only as leaves a certain interval between his position and

theirs; that between the two something be still left them to desire.

Otherwise it will be strange if he do not fare like those princes who

have been named above.

But to return from this digression, I say, that having shown it to be

necessary that conspirators should be men of great station, and such as

have ready access to the prince, we have next to consider what have

been the results of their plots, and to trace the causes which have

made them succeed or fail. Now, as I have said already, we find that

conspiracies are attended by danger at three stages: before during, and

after their execution; for which reason very few of them have had a

happy issue; it being next to impossible to surmount all these

different dangers successfully. And to begin with those which are

incurred beforehand, and which are graver than all the rest, I say that

he must be both very prudent and very fortunate who, when contriving a

conspiracy, does not suffer his secret to be discovered.

Conspiracies are discovered either by disclosures made, or by

conjecture. Disclosures are made through the treachery or folly of

those to whom you communicate your design. Treachery is to be looked

for, because you can impart your plans only to such persons as you

believe ready to face death on your behalf, or to those who are

discontented with the prince. Of men whom you can trust thus

implicitly, one or two may be found; but when you have to open your

designs to many, they cannot all be of this nature; and their goodwill

towards you must be extreme if they are not daunted by the danger and

by fear of punishment. Moreover men commonly deceive themselves in

respect of the love which they imagine others bear them, nor can ever

be sure of it until they have put it to the proof. But to make proof of

it in a matter like this is very perilous; and even if you have proved

it already, and found it true in some other dangerous trial, you cannot

assume that there will be the same fidelity here, since this far

transcends every other kind of danger. Again, if you gauge a man’s

fidelity by his discontent with the prince, you may easily deceive

yourself; for so soon as you have taken this discontented man into your

confidence, you have supplied him with the means whereby he may become

contented; so that either his hatred of the prince must be great

indeed, or your influence over him extraordinary, if it keep him

faithful. Hence it comes that so many conspiracies have been discovered

and crushed in their earliest stage, and that when the secret is

preserved among many accomplices for any length of time, it is looked

on as a miracle; as in the case of the conspiracy of Piso against Nero,

and, in our own days, in that of the Pazzi against Lorenzo and Giuliano

de’ Medici; which last, though more than fifty persons were privy to

it, was not discovered until it came to be carried out.

Conspiracies are disclosed through the imprudence of a conspirator when

he talks so indiscreetly that some servant, or other person not in the

plot, overhears him; as happened with the sons of Brutus, who, when

treating with the envoys of Tarquin, were overheard by a slave, who

became their accuser; or else through your own weakness in imparting

your secret to some woman or boy whom you love, or to some other such

light person; as when Dymnus, who was one of those who conspired with

Philotas against Alexander the Great, revealed the plot to Nicomachus,

a youth whom he loved, who at once told Cebalinus, and Cebalinus the

king.

Of discoveries by conjecture we have an instance in the conspiracy of

Piso against Nero; for Scaevinus, one of the conspirators, the day

before he was to kill Nero, made his will, liberated all his slaves and

gave them money, and bade Milichus, his freedman, sharpen his old rusty

dagger, and have bandages ready for binding up wounds. From all which

preparations Milichus conjecturing what work was in hand, accused

Scaevinus before Nero; whereupon Scaevinus was arrested, and with him

Natalis, another of the conspirators, who the day before had been seen

to speak with him for a long time in private; and when the two differed

in their account of what then passed between them, they were put to the

torture and forced to confess the truth. In this way the conspiracy was

brought to light, to the ruin of all concerned.

Against these causes of the discovery of conspiracies it is impossible

so to guard as that either through treachery, want of caution, or

levity, the secret shall not be found out, whenever more than three or

four persons are privy to it. And whenever more than one conspirator is

arrested, the plot is certain to be detected, because no two persons

can perfectly agree in a false account of what has passed between them.

If only one be taken, should he be a man of resolute courage, he may

refuse to implicate his comrades; but they on their part must have no

less courage, to stay quiet where they are, and not betray themselves

by flight; for if courage be absent anywhere, whether in him who is

taken or in those still at large, the conspiracy is revealed. And what

is related by Titus Livius as having happened in the conspiracy against

Hieronymus, tyrant of Syracuse, is most extraordinary, namely, that on

the capture of one of the conspirators, named Theodorus, he, with great

fortitude, withheld the names of all his accomplices, and accused

friends of the tyrant; while his companions, on their part, trusted so

completely in his courage, that not one of them quitted Syracuse or

showed any sign of fear.

All these dangers, therefore, which attend the contrivance of a plot,

must be passed through before you come to its execution; or if you

would escape them, you must observe the following precautions: Your

first and surest, nay, to say truth, your only safeguard, is to leave

your accomplices no time to accuse you; for which reason you must

impart the affair to them, only at the moment when you mean it to be

carried out, and not before. Those who have followed this course have

wholly escaped the preliminary dangers of conspiracies, and, generally

speaking, the others also; indeed, I may say that they have all

succeeded, and that it is open to every prudent man to act as they did.

It will be enough to give two instances of plots effected in this way.

Nelematus, unable to endure the tyranny of Aristotimus, despot of

Epirus, assembling many of his friends and kinsmen in his house,

exhorted them to free their country; and when some of them asked for

time to consider and mature their plans, he bade his slaves close the

doors, and told those assembled that unless they swore to go at once

and do as he directed he would make them over to Aristotimus as

prisoners. Alarmed by his threats, they bound themselves by a solemn

oath, and going forth at once and without delay, successfully carried

out his bidding. A certain Magus having fraudulently usurped the throne

of Persia; Ortanes, a grandee of that realm, discovering the fraud,

disclosed it to six others of the chief nobility, telling them that it

behoved them to free the kingdom from the tyranny of this impostor. And

when some among them asked for time, Darius, who was one of the six

summoned by Ortanes, stood up and said, “Either we go at once to do

this deed, or I go to the Magus to accuse you all.” Whereupon, all

rising together, without time given to any to change his mind, they

went forth and succeeded in effecting their end. Not unlike these

instances was the plan taken by the Etolians to rid themselves of

Nabis, the Spartan tyrant, to whom, under pretence of succouring him,

they sent Alasamenes, their fellow-citizen, with two hundred foot

soldiers and thirty horsemen. For they imparted their real design to

Alasamenes only, charging the rest, under pain of exile, to obey him in

whatever he commanded. Alasamenes repaired to Sparta, and never

divulged his commission till the time came for executing it; and so

succeeded in putting Nabis to death.

It was, therefore, by the precautions they observed, that the persons

of whom I have just now spoken escaped all those perils that attend the

contrivance of conspiracies; and any following their example may expect

the like good fortune. And that all may learn to do as they did I shall

notice the case of Piso, of which mention has before been made. By

reason of his rank, his reputation, and the intimate terms on which he

lived with Nero, who trusted him without reserve, and would often come

to his garden to sup with him, Piso was able to gain the friendship of

many persons of spirit and courage, and well fitted in every way to

take part in his plot against the emperor, which, under these

circumstances, might easily have been carried out. For when Nero came

to his garden, Piso could readily have communicated his design to those

friends of his, and with suitable words have encouraged them to do

what, in fact, they would not have had time to withdraw from, and was

certain to succeed. And were we to examine all similar attempts, it

would be seen that there are few which might not have been effected in

the manner shown. But since most men are very ignorant of practical

affairs, they commit the gravest blunders, especially in matters which

lie, as this does, a little way out of the beaten track.

Wherefore, the contriver of a plot ought never, if he can help it, to

communicate his design until the moment when it is to be executed; or

if he must communicate it, then to some one man only, with whom he has

long been intimate, and whom he knows to be moved by the same feelings

as himself. To find one such person is far easier than to find several,

and, at the same time, involves less risk; for though this one man play

you false, you are not left altogether without resource, as you are

when your accomplices are numerous. For I have heard it shrewdly said

that to one man you may impart anything, since, unless you have been

led to commit yourself by writing, your denial will go as far as his

assertion. Shun writing, therefore, as you would a rock, for there is

nothing so damning as a letter under your own hand.

Plautianus, desiring to procure the deaths of the Emperor Severus and

his son Caracalla, intrusted the business to the tribune Saturninus,

who, being more disposed to betray than obey Plautianus, but at the

same time afraid that, if it came to laying a charge, Plautianus might

be believed sooner than he, asked him for a written authority, that his

commission might be credited. Blinded by ambition, Plautianus complied,

and forthwith was accused by Saturninus and found guilty; whereas, but

for that written warrant, together with other corroborating proofs, he

must have escaped by his bold denial of the charge. Against the

testimony of a single witness, you have thus some defence, unless

convicted by your own handwriting, or by other circumstantial proof

against which you must guard. A woman, named Epicharis, who had

formerly been a mistress of Nero, was privy to Piso’s conspiracy, and

thinking it might be useful to have the help of a certain captain of

triremes whom Nero had among his body-guards, she acquainted him with

the plot, but not with the names of the plotters. This fellow, turning

traitor, and accusing Epicharis to Nero, so stoutly did she deny the

charge, that Nero, confounded by her effrontery, let her go.

In imparting a plot to a single person there are, therefore, two risks:

one, that he may come forward of his own accord to accuse you; the

other, that if arrested on suspicion, or on some proof of his guilt, he

may, on being convicted, in the hope to escape punishment, betray you.

But in neither of these dangers are you left without a defence; since

you may meet the one by ascribing the charge to the malice of your

accuser, and the other by alleging that the witness his been forced by

torture to say what is untrue. The wisest course, however, is to impart

your design to none, but to act like those who have been mentioned

above; or if you impart it, then to one only: for although even in this

course there be a certain degree of danger, it is far less than when

many are admitted to your confidence.

A case nearly resembling that just now noticed, is where an emergency,

so urgent as to leave you no time to provide otherwise for your safety,

constrains you to do to a prince what you see him minded to do to you.

A necessity of this sort leads almost always to the end desired, as two

instances may suffice to show. Among the closest friends and intimates

of the Emperor Commodus, were two captains of the pretorian guards,

Letus and Electus, while among the most favoured of his distresses was

a certain Martia. But because these three often reproved him for his

manner of living, as disgraceful to himself and to his station, he

resolved to rid himself of them; and so wrote their names, along with

those of certain others whom he meant should be put to death the next

night, in a list which he placed under the pillow of his bed. But on

his going to bathe, a boy, who was a favourite of his, while playing

about his room and on his bed, found the list, and coming out of the

chamber with it in his hand, was met by Martia, who took it from him,

and on reading it and finding what it contained, sent for Letus and

Electus. And all three recognizing the danger in which they stood,

resolved to be beforehand with the tyrant, and losing no time, murdered

him that very night.

The Emperor Caracalla, being with his armies in Mesopotamia, had with

him Macrinus, who was more of a statesman than a soldier, as his

prefect. But because princes who are not themselves good are always

afraid lest others treat them as they deserve, Caracalla wrote to his

friend Maternianus in Rome to learn from the astrologers whether any

man had ambitious designs upon the empire, and to send him word.

Maternianus, accordingly, wrote back that such designs were entertained

by Macrinus. But this letter, ere it reached the emperor, fell into the

hands of Macrinus, who, seeing when he read it that he must either put

Caracalla to death before further letters arrived from Rome, or else

die himself, committed the business to a centurion, named Martialis,

whom he trusted, and whose brother had been slain by Caracalla a few

days before, who succeeded in killing the emperor.

We see, therefore, that an urgency which leaves no room for delay has

almost the same results as the method already noticed as followed by

Nelematus of Epirus. We see, too, what I remarked almost at the outset

of this Discourse, that the threats of princes expose them to greater

danger than the wrongs they actually inflict, and lead to more active

conspiracies: and, therefore, that a prince should be careful not to

threaten; since men are either to be treated kindly or else got rid of,

but never brought to such a pass that they have to choose between

slaying and being slain.

As to the dangers attending the execution of plots, these result either

from some change made in the plan, or from a failure in courage on the

part of him who is to carry it out; or else from some mistake he falls

into through want of foresight, or from his not giving the affair its

finishing stroke, as when some are left alive whom it was meant to put

to death. Now, nothing causes so much disturbance and hindrance in

human affairs, as to be forced, at a moment’s notice and without time

allowed for reflection, to vary your plan of action and adopt a

different one from that fixed on at the first. And if such changes

cause confusion anywhere, it is in matters appertaining to war, and in

enterprises of the kind we are now speaking of; for in such affairs as

these, there is nothing so essential as that men be prepared to do the

exact thing intrusted to them. But when men have for many days together

turned their whole thoughts to doing a thing in a certain way and in a

certain order, and the way and order are suddenly altered, it is

impossible but that they should be disconcerted and the whole scheme

ruined. For which reason, it is far better to do everything in

accordance with the preconcerted plan, though it be seen to be attended

with some disadvantages, than, in order to escape these, to involve

yourself in an infinity of dangers. And this will happen when you

depart from your original design without time given to form a new one.

For when time is given you may manage as you please.

The conspiracy of the Pazzi against Lorenzo and Giuliano de’ Medici is

well known. The scheme agreed on was to give a banquet to the Cardinal

S. Giorgio, at which the brothers should be put to death. To each of

the conspirators a part was assigned: to one the murder, to another the

seizure of the palace, while a third was to ride through the streets

and call on the people to free themselves. But it so chanced that at a

time when the Pazzi, the Medici, and the Cardinal were all assembled in

the cathedral church of Florence to hear High Mass, it became known

that Giuliano would not be present at the banquet; whereupon the

conspirators, laying their heads together, resolved to do in church

what they were to have done elsewhere. This, however, deranged the

whole scheme. For Giovambattista of Montesecco, would have no hand in

the murder if it was to be done in a church; and the whole distribution

of parts had in consequence to be changed; when, as those to whom the

new parts were assigned had no time allowed them to nerve their minds

to their new tasks, they managed matters so badly that they were

overpowered in their attempt.

Courage fails a conspirator either from his own poorness of spirit, or

from his being overcome by some feeling of reverence. For such majesty

and awe attend the person of a prince, that it may well happen that he

softens or dismays his executioners. When Caius Marius was taken by the

people of Minturnum, the slave sent in to slay him, overawed by the

bearing of the man, and by the memories which his name called up,

became unnerved, and powerless to perform his office. And if this

influence was exercised by one who was a prisoner, and in chains, and

overwhelmed by adverse fortune, how much more must reverence be

inspired by a prince who is free and uncontrolled, surrounded by his

retinue and by all the pomp and splendour of his station; whose dignity

confounds, and whose graciousness conciliates.

Certain persons conspiring against Sitalces, king of Thrace, fixed a

day for his murder, and assembled at the place appointed, whither the

king had already come. Yet none of them raised a hand to harm him, and

all departed without attempting anything against him or knowing why

they refrained; each blaming the others. And more than once the same

folly was repeated, until the plot getting wind, they were taken and

punished for what they might have done, yet durst not do.

Two brothers of Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, conspired against him,

employing as their tool a certain priest named Giennes, a singing-man

in the service of the Duke. He, at their request, repeatedly brought

the Duke into their company, so that they had full opportunity to make

away with him. Yet neither of them ever ventured to strike the blow;

till at last, their scheme being discovered, they paid the penalty of

their combined cowardice and temerity. Such irresolution can only have

arisen from their being overawed by the majesty of the prince, or

touched by his graciousness.

In the execution of conspiracies, therefore, errors and mishaps arise

from a failure of prudence or courage to which all are subject, when,

losing self-control, they are led in their bewilderment to do and say

what they ought not. That men are thus confounded, and thrown off their

balance, could not be better shown than in the words of Titus Livius,

where he describes the behaviour of Alasamenes the Etolian, at the time

when he resolved on the death of Nabis the Spartan, of whom I have

spoken before. For when the time to act came, and he had disclosed to

his followers what they had to do, Livius represents him as

“_collecting his thoughts which had grown confused by dwelling on so

desperate an enterprise_.” For it is impossible for any one, though of

the most steadfast temper and used to the sight of death and to handle

deadly weapons, not to be perturbed at such a moment. For which reason

we should on such occasions choose for our tools those who have had

experience in similar affairs, and trust no others though reputed of

the truest courage. For in these grave undertakings, no one who is

without such experience, however bold and resolute, is to be trusted.

The confusion of which I speak may either cause you to drop your weapon

from your hand, or to use words which will have the same results.

Quintianus being commanded by Lucilla, sister of Commodus, to slay him,

lay in wait for him at the entrance of the amphitheatre, and rushing

upon him with a drawn dagger, cried out, “_The senate sends you this_;”

which words caused him to be seized before his blow descended. In like

manner Messer Antonio of Volterra, who as we have elsewhere seen was

told off to kill Lorenzo de’ Medici, exclaimed as he approached him,

“_Ah traitor!_” and this exclamation proved the salvation of Lorenzo

and the ruin of that conspiracy.

For the reasons now given, a conspiracy against a single ruler may

readily break down in its execution; but a conspiracy against two

rulers is not only difficult, but so hazardous that its success is

almost hopeless. For to effect like actions, at the same time, in

different places, is well-nigh impossible; nor can they be effected at

different times, if you would not have one counteract another. So that

if conspiracy against a single ruler be imprudent and dangerous, to

conspire against two, is in the last degree fool-hardy and desperate.

And were it not for the respect in which I hold the historian, I could

not credit as possible what Herodian relates of Plautianus, namely,

that he committed to the centurion Saturninus the task of slaying

single-handed both Severus and Caracalla, they dwelling in different

places; for the thing is so opposed to reason that on no other

authority could I be induced to accept it as true.

Certain young Athenians conspired against Diocles and Hippias, tyrants

of Athens. Diocles they slew; but Hippias, making his escape, avenged

him. Chion and Leonidas of Heraclea, disciples of Plato, conspired

against the despots Clearchus and Satirus. Clearchus fell, but Satirus

survived and avenged him. The Pazzi, of whom we have spoken so often,

succeeded in murdering Giuliano only. From such conspiracies,

therefore, as are directed against more heads than one, all should

abstain; for no good is to be got from them, whether for ourselves, for

our country, or for any one else. On the contrary, when those conspired

against escape, they become harsher and more unsufferable than before,

as, in the examples given, Florence, Athens, and Heraclea had cause to

know. True it is that the conspiracy contrived by Pelopidas for the

liberation of his country, had to encounter every conceivable

hindrance, and yet had the happiest end. For Pelopidas had to deal, not

with two tyrants only, but with ten; and so far from having their

confidence, could not, being an outlaw, even approach them. And yet he

succeeded in coming to Thebes, in putting the tyrants to death, and in

freeing his country. But whatever he did was done with the aid of one

of the counsellors of the tyrants, a certain Charon, through whom he

had all facilities for executing his design. Let none, however, take

this case as a pattern; for that it was in truth a desperate attempt,

and its success a marvel, was and is the opinion of all historians, who

speak of it as a thing altogether extraordinary and unexampled.

The execution of a plot may be frustrated by some groundless alarm or

unforeseen mischance occurring at the very moment when the scheme is to

be carried out. On the morning on which Brutus and his confederates

were to slay Cæsar, it so happened that Cæsar talked for a great while

with Cneus Pompilius Lenas, one of the conspirators; which some of the

others observing, were in terror that Pompilius was divulging the

conspiracy to Cæsar; whose life they would therefore have attempted

then and there, without waiting his arrival in the senate house, had

they not been reassured by seeing that when the conference ended he

showed no sign of unusual emotion. False alarms of this sort are to be

taken into account and allowed for, all the more that they are easily

raised. For he who has not a clear conscience is apt to assume that

others are speaking of him. A word used with a wholly different

purpose, may throw his mind off its balance and lead him to fancy that

reference is intended to the matter he is engaged on, and cause him

either to betray the conspiracy by flight, or to derange its execution

by anticipating the time fixed. And the more there are privy to the

conspiracy, the likelier is this to happen.

As to the mischances which may befall, since these are unforeseen, they

can only be instanced by examples which may make men more cautious.

Giulio Belanti of Siena, of whom I have spoken before, from the hate he

bore Pandolfo Petrucci, who had given him his daughter to wife and

afterwards taken her from him, resolved to murder him, and thus chose

his time. Almost every day Pandolfo went to visit a sick kinsman,

passing the house of Giulio on the way, who, remarking this, took

measures to have his accomplices ready in his house to kill Pandolfo as

he passed. Wherefore, placing the rest armed within the doorway, one he

stationed at a window to give the signal of Pandolfo’s approach. It so

happened however, that as he came nigh the house, and after the

look-out had given the signal, Pandolfo fell in with a friend who

stopped him to converse; when some of those with him, going on in

advance, saw and heard the gleam and clash of weapons, and so

discovered the ambuscade; whereby Pandolfo was saved, while Giulio with

his companions had to fly from Siena. This plot accordingly was marred,

and Giulio’s schemes baulked, in consequence of a chance meeting.

Against such accidents, since they are out of the common course of

things, no provision can be made. Still it is very necessary to take

into account all that may happen, and devise what remedies you can.

It now only remains for us to consider those dangers which follow after

the execution of a plot. These in fact resolve themselves into one,

namely, that some should survive who will avenge the death of the

murdered prince. The part of avenger is likely to be assumed by a son,

a brother, or other kinsman of the deceased, who in the ordinary course

of events might have looked to succeed to the princedom. And such

persons are suffered to live, either from inadvertence, or from some of

the causes noted already, as when Giovann’ Andrea of Lampognano, with

the help of his companions, put to death the Duke of Milan. For the son

and two brothers of the Duke, who survived him, were able to avenge his

death. In cases like this, indeed, the conspirators may be held

excused, since there is nothing they can do to help themselves. But

when from carelessness and want of due caution some one is allowed to

live whose death ought to have been secured, there is no excuse.

Certain conspirators, after murdering the lord, Count Girolamo of

Forli, made prisoners of his wife and of his children who were still

very young. By thinking they could not be safe unless they got

possession of the citadel, which the governor refused to surrender,

they obtained a promise from Madonna Caterina, for so the Countess was

named, that on their permitting her to enter the citadel she would

cause it to be given up to them, her children in the mean time

remaining with them as hostages. On which undertaking they suffered her

to enter the citadel. But no sooner had she got inside than she fell to

upbraid them from the walls with the murder of her husband, and to

threaten them with every kind of vengeance; and to show them how little

store she set upon her children, told them scoffingly that she knew how

others could be got. In the end, the rebels having no leader to advise

them, and perceiving too late the error into which they had been

betrayed, had to pay the penalty of their rashness by perpetual

banishment.

But of all the dangers which may follow on the execution of a plot,

none is so much or so justly to be feared as that the people should be

well affected to the prince whom you have put to death. For against

this danger conspirators have no resource which can ensure their

safety. Of this we have example in the case of Cæsar, who as he had the

love of the Roman people was by them avenged; for they it was who, by

driving out the conspirators from Rome, were the cause that all of

them, at different times and in different places, came to violent ends.

Conspiracies against their country are less danger for those who take

part in them than conspiracies against princes; since there is less

risk beforehand, and though there be the same danger in their

execution, there is none afterwards. Beforehand, the risks are few,

because a citizen may use means for obtaining power without betraying

his wishes or designs to any; and unless his course be arrested, his

designs are likely enough to succeed; nay, though laws be passed to

restrain him, he may strike out a new path. This is to be understood of

a commonwealth which has to some degree become corrupted; for in one

wherein there is no taint of corruption, there being no soil in which

evil seed can grow, such designs will never suggest themselves to any

citizen.

In a commonwealth, therefore, a citizen may by many means and in many

ways aspire to the princedom without risking destruction, both because

republics are slower than princes are to take alarm, are less

suspicious and consequently less cautious, and because they look with

greater reverence upon their great citizens, who are in this way

rendered bolder and more reckless in attacking them. Any one who has

read Sallust’s account of the conspiracy of Catiline, must remember

how, when that conspiracy was discovered, Catiline not only remained in

Rome, but even made his appearance in the senatehouse, where he was

suffered to address the senate in the most insulting terms,—so

scrupulous was that city in protecting the liberty of all its citizens.

Nay, even after he had left Rome and placed himself at the head of his

army, Lentulus and his other accomplices would not have been

imprisoned, had not letters been found upon them clearly establishing

their guilt. Hanno, the foremost citizen of Carthage, aspiring to

absolute power, on the occasion of the marriage of a daughter contrived

a plot for administering poison to the whole senate and so making

himself prince. The scheme being discovered, the senate took no steps

against him beyond passing a law to limit the expense of banquets and

marriage ceremonies. So great was the respect they paid to his quality.

True, the _execution_ of a plot against your country is attended with

greater difficulty and danger, since it seldom happens that, in

conspiring against so many, your own resources are sufficient by

themselves; for it is not every one who, like Cæsar, Agathocles, or

Cleomenes, is at the head of an army, so as to be able at a stroke, and

by open force to make himself master of his country. To such as these,

doubtless, the path is safe and easy enough; but others who have not

such an assembled force ready at their command, must effect their ends

either by stratagem and fraud, or with the help of foreign troops. Of

such stratagems and frauds we have an instance in the case of

Pisistratus the Athenian, who after defeating the Megarians and thereby

gaining the favour of his fellow-citizens, showed himself to them one

morning covered with wounds and blood, declaring that he had been thus

outraged through the jealousy of the nobles, and asking that he might

have an armed guard assigned for his protection. With the authority

which this lent him, he easily rose to such a pitch of power as to

become tyrant of Athens. In like manner Pandolfo Petrucci, on his

return with the other exiles to Siena, was appointed the command of the

public guard, as a mere office of routine which others had declined.

Very soon, however, this armed force gave him so much importance that

he became the supreme ruler of the State. And many others have followed

other plans and methods, and in the course of time, and without

incurring danger, have achieved their aim.