Conspirators against their country, whether trusting to their own

forces or to foreign aid, have had more or less success in proportion

as they have been favoured by Fortune. Catiline, of whom we spoke just

now, was overthrown. Hanno, who has also been mentioned, failing to

accomplish his object by poison, armed his partisans to the number of

many thousands; but both he and they came to an ill end. On the other

hand, certain citizens of Thebes conspiring to become its tyrants,

summoned a Spartan army to their assistance, and usurped the absolute

control of the city. In short, if we examine all the conspiracies which

men have engaged in against their country, we shall find that few or

none have been quelled in their inception, but that all have either

succeeded, or have broken down in their execution. Once executed, they

entail no further risks beyond those implied in the nature of a

princedom. For the man who becomes a tyrant incurs all the natural and

ordinary dangers in which a tyranny involves him, and has no remedies

against them save those of which I have already spoken.

This is all that occurs to me to say on the subject of conspiracies. If

I have noticed those which have been carried out with the sword rather

than those wherein poison has been the instrument, it is because,

generally speaking, the method of proceeding is the same in both. It is

true, nevertheless, that conspiracies which are to be carried out by

poison are, by reason of their uncertainty, attended by greater danger.

For since fewer opportunities offer for their execution, you must have

an understanding with persons who can command opportunities. But it is

dangerous to have to depend on others. Again, many causes may hinder a

poisoned draught from proving mortal; as when the murderers of

Commodus, on his vomiting the poison given him, had to strangle him.

Princes, then, have no worse enemy than conspiracy, for when a

conspiracy is formed against them, it either carries them off, or

discredits them: since, if it succeeds, they die; while, if it be

discovered, and the conspirators be put to death themselves, it will

always be believed that the whole affair has been trumped up by the

prince that he might glut his greed and cruelty with the goods and

blood of those whom he has made away with. Let me not, however, forget

to warn the prince or commonwealth against whom a conspiracy is

directed, that on getting word of it, and before taking any steps to

punish it, they endeavour, as far as they can, to ascertain its

character, and after carefully weighing the strength of the

conspirators with their own, on finding it preponderate, never suffer

their knowledge of the plot to appear until they are ready with a force

sufficient to crush it. For otherwise, to disclose their knowledge will

only give the signal for their destruction. They must strive therefore

to seem unconscious of what is going on; for conspirators who see

themselves detected are driven forward by necessity and will stick at

nothing. Of this precaution we have an example in Roman history, when

the officers of the two legions, who, as has already been mentioned,

were left behind to defend the Capuans from the Samnites, conspired

together against the Capuans. For on rumours of this conspiracy

reaching Rome, Rutilius the new consul was charged to see to it; who,

not to excite the suspicions of the conspirators, publicly gave out

that by order of the senate the Capuan legions were continued in their

station. The conspirators believing this, and thinking they would have

ample time to execute their plans, made no effort to hasten matters,

but remained at their ease, until they found that the consul was moving

one of the two legions to a distance from the other. This arousing

their suspicion, led them to disclose their designs and endeavour to

carry them out.

Now, we could have no more instructive example than this in whatever

way we look at it. For it shows how slow men are to move in those

matters wherein time seems of little importance, and how active they

become when necessity urges them. Nor can a prince or commonwealth

desiring for their own ends to retard the execution of a conspiracy,

use any more effectual means to do so, than by artfully holding out to

the conspirators some special opportunity as likely soon to present

itself; awaiting which, and believing they have time and to spare for

what they have to do, they will afford that prince or commonwealth all

the leisure needed to prepare for their punishment. Whosoever neglects

these precautions hastens his own destruction, as happened with the

Duke of Athens, and with Guglielmo de’ Pazzi. For the Duke, who had

made himself tyrant of Florence, on learning that he was being

conspired against, without further inquiry into the matter, caused one

of the conspirators to be seized; whereupon the rest at once armed

themselves and deprived him of his government. Guglielmo, again, being

commissary in the Val di Chiana in the year 1501, and learning that a

conspiracy was being hatched in Arezzo to take the town from the

Florentines and give it over to the Vitelli, repaired thither with all

haste; and without providing himself with the necessary forces or

giving a thought to the strength of the conspirators, on the advice of

the bishop, his son, had one of them arrested. Which becoming known to

the others, they forthwith rushed to arms, and taking the town from the

Florentines, made Guglielmo their prisoner. Where, however,

conspiracies are weak, they may and should be put down without scruple

or hesitation.

Two methods, somewhat opposed to one another, which have occasionally

been followed in dealing with conspiracies, are in no way to be

commended. One of these was that adopted by the Duke of Athens, of whom

I have just now spoken, who to have it thought that he confided in the

goodwill of the Florentines, caused a certain man who gave information

of a plot against him, to be put to death. The other was that followed

by Dion the Syracusan, who, to sound the intentions of one whom he

suspected, arranged with Calippus, whom he trusted, to pretend to get

up a conspiracy against him. Neither of these tyrants reaped any

advantage from the course he followed. For the one discouraged

informers and gave heart to those who were disposed to conspire, the

other prepared an easy road to his own death, or rather was prime mover

in a conspiracy against himself. As the event showed. For Calippus

having free leave to plot against Dion, plotted to such effect, that he

deprived him at once of his State and life.

CHAPTER VII.—_Why it is that changes from Freedom to Servitude, and

from Servitude to Freedom, are sometimes made without Bloodshed, but at

other times reek with Blood_.

Since we find from history that in the countless changes which have

been made from freedom to servitude and from servitude to freedom,

sometimes an infinite multitude have perished, while at others not a

soul has suffered (as when Rome made her change from kings to consuls,

on which occasion none was banished save Tarquin, and no harm was done

to any other), it may perhaps be asked, how it happens that of these

revolutions, some have been attended by bloodshed and others not.

The answer I take to be this. The government which suffers change

either has or has not had its beginning in violence. And since the

government which has its beginning in violence must start by inflicting

injuries on many, it must needs happen that on its downfall those who

were injured will desire to avenge themselves; from which desire for

vengeance the slaughter and death of many will result. But when a

government originates with, and derives its authority from the whole

community, there is no reason why the community, if it withdraw that

authority, should seek to injure any except the prince from whom it

withdraws it. Now the government of Rome was of this nature, and the

expulsion of the Tarquins took place in this way. Of a like character

was the government of the Medici in Florence, and, accordingly, upon

their overthrow in the year 1494, no injury was done to any save

themselves.

In such cases, therefore, the changes I speak of do not occasion any

very great danger. But the changes wrought by men who have wrongs to

revenge, are always of a most dangerous kind, and such, to say the

least, as may well cause dismay in the minds of those who read of them.

But since history abounds with instances of such changes I need say no

more about them.

CHAPTER VIII.—_That he who would effect Changes in a Commonwealth, must

give heed to its Character and Condition_

I have said before that a bad citizen cannot work grave mischief in a

commonwealth which has not become corrupted. This opinion is not only

supported by the arguments already advanced, but is further confirmed

by the examples of Spurius Cassius and Manlius Capitolinus. For

Spurius, being ambitious, and desiring to obtain extraordinary

authority in Rome, and to win over the people by loading them with

benefits (as, for instance, by selling them those lands which the

Romans had taken from the Hernici,) his designs were seen through by

the senate, and laid him under such suspicion, that when in haranguing

the people he offered them the money realized by the sale of the grain

brought from Sicily at the public expense, they would have none of it,

believing that he offered it as the price of their freedom. Now, had

the people been corrupted, they would not have refused this bribe, but

would have opened rather than closed the way to the tyranny.

The example of Manlius is still more striking. For in his case we see

what excellent gifts both of mind and body, and what splendid services

to his country were afterwards cancelled by that shameful eagerness to

reign which we find bred in him by his jealousy of the honours paid

Camillus. For so darkened did his mind become, that without reflecting

what were the institutions to which Rome was accustomed, or testing the

material he had to work on, when he would have seen that it was still

unfit to be moulded to evil ends, he set himself to stir up tumults

against the senate and against the laws of his country.

And herein we recognize the excellence of this city of Rome, and of the

materials whereof it was composed. For although the nobles were wont to

stand up stoutly for one another, not one of them stirred to succour

Manlius, and not one of his kinsfolk made any effort on his behalf, so

that although it was customary, in the case of other accused persons,

for their friends to put on black and sordid raiment, with all the

other outward signs of grief, in order to excite pity for the accused,

none was seen to do any of these things for Manlius. Even the tribunes

of the people, though constantly ready to promote whatever courses

seemed to favour the popular cause, and the more vehemently the more

they seemed to make against the nobles, in this instance sided with the

nobles to put down the common enemy. Nay the very people themselves,

keenly alive to their own interests, and well disposed towards any

attempt to damage the nobles, though they showed Manlius many proofs of

their regard, nevertheless, when he was cited by the tribunes to appear

before them and submit his cause for their decision, assumed the part

of judges and not of defenders, and without scruple or hesitation

sentenced him to die. Wherefore, I think, that there is no example in

the whole Roman history which serves so well as this to demonstrate the

virtues of all ranks in that republic. For not a man in the whole city

bestirred himself to shield a citizen endowed with every great quality,

and who, both publicly and privately, had done so much that deserved

praise. But in all, the love of country outweighed every other thought,

and all looked less to his past deserts than to the dangers which his

present conduct threatened; from which to relieve themselves they put

him to death. “_Such_,” says Livius, “_was the fate of a man worthy our

admiration had he not been born in a free State_.”

And here two points should be noted. The first, that glory is to be

sought by different methods in a corrupt city, and in one which still

preserves its freedom. The second, which hardly differs from the first,

that in their actions, and especially in matters of moment, men must

have regard to times and circumstances and adapt themselves thereto.

For those persons who from an unwise choice, or from natural

inclination, run counter to the times will for the most part live

unhappily, and find all they undertake issue in failure; whereas those

who accommodate themselves to the times are fortunate and successful.

And from the passage cited we may plainly infer, that had Manlius lived

in the days of Marius and Sylla, when the body of the State had become

corrupted, so that he could have impressed it with the stamp of his

ambition, he might have had the same success as they had, and as those

others had who after them aspired to absolute power; and, conversely,

that if Sylla and Marius had lived in the days of Manlius, they must

have broken down at the very beginning of their attempts.

For one man, by mischievous arts and measures, may easily prepare the

ground for the universal corruption of a city; but no one man in his

lifetime can carry that corruption so far, as himself to reap the

harvest; or granting that one man’s life might be long enough for this

purpose, it would be impossible for him, having regard to the ordinary

habits of men, who grow impatient and cannot long forego the

gratification of their desires, to wait until the corruption was

complete. Moreover, men deceive themselves in respect of their own

affairs, and most of all in respect of those on which they are most

bent; so that either from impatience or from self-deception, they rush

upon undertakings for which the time is not ripe, and so come to an ill

end. Wherefore to obtain absolute authority in a commonwealth and to

destroy its liberties, you must find the body of the State already

corrupted, and corrupted by a gradual wasting continued from generation

to generation; which, indeed, takes place necessarily, unless, as has

been already explained, the State be often reinforced by good examples,

or brought back to its first beginnings by wise laws.

Manlius, therefore, would have been a rare and renowned man had he been

born in a corrupt city; and from his example we see that citizens

seeking to introduce changes in the form of their government, whether

in favour of liberty or despotism, ought to consider what materials

they have to deal with, and then judge of the difficulty of their task.

For it is no less arduous and dangerous to attempt to free a people

disposed to live in servitude, than to enslave a people who desire to

live free.

And because it has been said above, that in their actions men must take

into account the character of the times in which they live, and guide

themselves accordingly, I shall treat this point more fully in the

following Chapter.

CHAPTER IX.—_That to enjoy constant good Fortune we must change with

the Times._

I have repeatedly noted that the good or bad fortune of men depends on

whether their methods of acting accord with the character of the times.

For we see that in what they do some men act impulsively, others warily

and with caution. And because, from inability to preserve the just

mean, they in both of these ways overstep the true limit, they commit

mistakes in one direction or the other. He, however, will make fewest

mistakes, and may expect to prosper most, who, while following the

course to which nature inclines him, finds, as I have said, his method

of acting in accordance with the times in which he lives.

All know that in his command of the Roman armies, Fabius Maximus

displayed a prudence and caution very different from the audacity and

hardihood natural to his countrymen; and it was his good fortune that

his methods suited with the times. For Hannibal coming into Italy in

all the flush of youth and recent success, having already by two

defeats stripped Rome of her best soldiers and filled her with dismay,

nothing could have been more fortunate for that republic than to find a

general able, by his deliberateness and caution, to keep the enemy at

bay. Nor, on the other hand, could Fabius have fallen upon times better

suited to the methods which he used, and by which he crowned himself

with glory. That he acted in accordance with his natural bent, and not

from a reasoned choice, we may gather from this, that when Scipio, to

bring the war to an end, proposed to pass with his army into Africa,

Fabius, unable to depart from his characteristic methods and habits,

strenuously opposed him; so that had it rested with him, Hannibal might

never have left Italy. For he perceived not that the times had changed,

and that with them it was necessary to change the methods of

prosecuting the war. Had Fabius, therefore, been King of Rome, he might

well have caused the war to end unhappily, not knowing how to

accommodate his methods to the change in the times. As it was, he lived

in a commonwealth in which there were many citizens, and many different

dispositions; and which as it produced a Fabius, excellent at a time

when it was necessary to protract hostilities, so also, afterwards gave

birth to a Scipio, at a time suited to bring them to a successful

close.

And hence it comes that a commonwealth endures longer, and has a more

sustained good fortune than a princedom, because from the diversity in

the characters of its citizens, it can adapt itself better than a

prince can to the diversity of times. For, as I have said before, a man

accustomed to follow one method, will never alter it; whence it must

needs happen that when times change so as no longer to accord with his

method, he will be ruined. Piero Soderini, of whom I have already

spoken, was guided in all his actions by patience and gentleness, and

he and his country prospered while the times were in harmony with these

methods. But, afterwards, when a time came when it behoved him to have

done with patience and gentleness, he knew not how to drop them, and

was ruined together with his country. Pope Julius II., throughout the

whole of his pontificate, was governed by impulse and passion, and

because the times were in perfect accord, all his undertakings

prospered. But had other times come requiring other qualities, he could

not have escaped destruction, since he could not have changed his

methods nor his habitual line of conduct.

As to why such changes are impossible, two reasons may be given. One is

that we cannot act in opposition to the bent of our nature. The other,

that when a man has been very successful while following a particular

method, he can never be convinced that it is for his advantage to try

some other. And hence it results that a man’s fortunes vary, because

times change and he does not change with them. So, too, with

commonwealths, which, as we have already shown at length, are ruined

from not altering their institutions to suit the times. And

commonwealths are slower to change than princes are, changes costing

them more effort; because occasions must be waited for which shall stir

the whole community, and it is not enough that a single citizen alters

his method of acting.

But since I have made mention of Fabius Maximus who wore out Hannibal

by keeping him at bay, I think it opportune to consider in the

following Chapter whether a general who desires to engage his enemy at

all risks, can be prevented by that enemy from doing so.

CHAPTER X.—_That a Captain cannot escape Battle when his Enemy forces

it on him at all risks._

“_Cneius Sulpitius when appointed dictator against the Gauls, being

unwilling to tempt Fortune by attacking an enemy whom delay and a

disadvantageous position would every day render weaker, protracted the

war._”

When a mistake is made of a sort that all or most men are likely to

fall into, I think it not amiss to mark it again and again with

disapproval. Wherefore, although I have already shown repeatedly how in

affairs of moment the actions of the moderns conform not to those of

antiquity, still it seems to me not superfluous, in this place, to say

the same thing once more. For if in any particular the moderns have

deviated from the methods of the ancients, it is especially in their

methods of warfare, wherein not one of those rules formerly so much

esteemed is now attended to. And this because both princes and

commonwealths have devolved the charge of such matters upon others,

and, to escape danger, have kept aloof from all military service; so

that although one or another of the princes of our times may

occasionally be seen present in person with his army, we are not

therefore to expect from him any further praiseworthy behaviour. For

even where such personages take part in any warlike enterprise, they do

so out of ostentation and from no nobler motive; though doubtless from

sometimes seeing their soldiers face to face, and from retaining to

themselves the title of command, they are likely to make fewer blunders

than we find made by republics, and most of all by the republics of

Italy, which though altogether dependent upon others, and themselves

utterly ignorant of everything relating to warfare, do yet, that they

may figure as the commanders of their armies, take upon them to direct

their movements, and in doing so commit countless mistakes; some of

which have been considered elsewhere but one is of such importance as

to deserve notice here.

When these sluggard princes or effeminate republics send forth any of

their Captains, it seems to them that the wisest instruction they can

give him is to charge him on no account to give battle, but, on the

contrary, to do what he can to avoid fighting. Wherein they imagine

themselves to imitate the prudence of Fabius Maximus, who by

protracting the war with Hannibal, saved the Roman commonwealth; not

perceiving that in most instances such advice to a captain is either

useless or hurtful. For the truth of the matter is, that a captain who

would keep the field, cannot decline battle when his adversary forces

it on him at all hazards. So that the instruction to avoid battle is

but tantamount to saying, “You shall engage when it pleases your enemy,

and not when it suits yourself.” For if you would keep the field and

yet avoid battle, the only safe course is to interpose a distance of at

least fifty miles between you and your enemy, and afterwards to

maintain so vigilant a look-out, that should he advance you will have

time to make your retreat. Another method is to shut yourself up in

some town. But both of these methods are extremely disadvantageous. For

by following the former, you leave your country a prey to the enemy,

and a valiant prince would far sooner risk the chances of battle than

prolong a war in a manner so disastrous to his subjects; while by

adopting the latter method, and shutting yourself up in a town with

your army, there is manifest danger of your being besieged, and

presently reduced by famine and forced to surrender. Wherefore it is

most mischievous to seek to avoid battle in either of these two ways.

To intrench yourself in a strong position, as Fabius was wont to do, is

a good method when your army is so formidable that the enemy dare not

advance to attack you in your intrenchments; yet it cannot truly be

said that Fabius avoided battle, but rather that he sought to give

battle where he could do so with advantage. For had Hannibal desired to

fight, Fabius would have waited for him and fought him. But Hannibal

never dared to engage him on his own ground. So that an engagement was

avoided as much by Hannibal as by Fabius, since if either had been

minded to fight at all hazards the other would have been constrained to

take one of three courses, that is to say, one or other of the two just

now mentioned, or else to retreat. The truth of this is confirmed by

numberless examples, and more particularly by what happened in the war

waged by the Romans against Philip of Macedon, the father of Perseus.

For Philip being invaded by the Romans, resolved not to give them

battle; and to avoid battle, sought at first to do as Fabius had done

in Italy, posting himself on the summit of a hill, where he intrenched

himself strongly, thinking that the Romans would not venture to attack

him there. But they advancing and attacking him in his intrenchments,

drove him from his position; when, unable to make further resistance,

he fled with the greater part of his army, and was only saved from

utter destruction by the difficulty of the ground, which made it

impossible for the Romans to pursue him.

Philip, therefore, who had no mind to fight, encamping too near the

Romans, was forced to fly; and learning from this experience that to

escape fighting it was not enough for him to intrench himself on a

hill, yet not choosing to shut himself up in a walled town, he was

constrained to take the other alternative of keeping at a distance of

many miles from the Roman legions. Accordingly, when the Romans entered

one province, he betook himself to another, and when they left a

province he entered it. But perceiving that by protracting the war in

this way, his condition grew constantly worse, while his subjects

suffered grievously, now from his own troops, at another time from

those of the enemy, he at last resolved to hazard battle, and so came

to a regular engagement with the Romans.

It is for your interest, therefore, not to fight, when you possess the

same advantages as Fabius, or as Cneius Sulpitius had; in other words,

when your army is so formidable in itself that the enemy dare not

attack you in your intrenchments, and although he has got within your

territory has yet gained no footing there, and suffers in consequence

from the want of necessary supplies. In such circumstances delay is

useful, for the reasons assigned by Titus Livius when speaking of

Sulpitius. In no other circumstances, however, can an engagement be

avoided without dishonour or danger. For to retire as Philip did, is

nothing else than defeat; and the disgrace is greater in proportion as

your valour has been less put to the proof. And if Philip was lucky

enough to escape, another, not similarly favoured by the nature of the

ground, might not have the same good fortune.

That Hannibal was not a master in the arts of warfare there is none

will venture to maintain. Wherefore, when he had to encounter Scipio in

Africa, it may be assumed that had he seen any advantage in prolonging

the war he would have done so; and, possibly, being a skilful captain

and in command of a valiant army, he might have been able to do what

Fabius did in Italy. But since he took not that course, we may infer

that he was moved by sufficient reasons. For the captain who has got an

army together, and perceives that from want of money or friends he

cannot maintain it long, must be a mere madman if he do not at once,

and before his army melts away, try the fortunes of battle; since he is

certain to lose by delay, while by fighting he may chance to succeed.

And there is this also to be kept in view, that we must strive, even if

we be defeated, to gain glory; and that more glory is to be won in

being beaten by force, than in a defeat from any other cause. And this

we may suppose to have weighed with Hannibal. On the other hand,

supposing Hannibal to have declined battle, Scipio, even if he had

lacked courage to follow him up and attack him in his intrenched camp,

would not have suffered thereby; for as he had defeated Syphax, and got

possession of many of the African towns, he could have rested where he

was in the same security and with the same convenience as if he had

been in Italy. But this was not the case with Hannibal when he had to

encounter Fabius, nor with the Gauls when they were opposed to

Sulpitius.

Least of all can he decline battle who invades with his army the

country of another; for seeking to enter his enemy’s country, he must

fight whenever the enemy comes forward to meet him; and is under still

greater necessity to fight, if he undertake the siege of any town. As

happened in our own day with Duke Charles of Burgundy, who, when

beleaguering Morat, a town of the Swiss, was by them attacked and

routed; or as happened with the French army encamped against Novara,

which was in like manner defeated by the Swiss.

CHAPTER XI.—_That one who has to contend with many, though he be weaker

than they, will prevail if he can withstand their first onset._

The power exercised in Rome by the tribunes of the people was great,

and, as I have repeatedly explained, was necessary, since otherwise

there would have been no check on the ambition of the nobles, and the

commonwealth must have grown corrupted far sooner than it did. But

because, as I have said elsewhere, there is in everything a latent evil

peculiar to it, giving rise to new mischances, it becomes necessary to

provide against these by new ordinances. The authority of the tribunes,

therefore, being insolently asserted so as to become formidable to the

nobility and to the entire city, disorders dangerous to the liberty of

the State must thence have resulted, had not a method been devised by

Appius Claudius for controlling the ambition of the tribunes. This was,

to secure that there should always be one of their number timid, or

venal, or else a lover of the general good, who could be influenced to

oppose the rest whenever these sought to pass any measure contrary to

the wishes of the senate. This remedy was a great restraint on the

excessive authority of the tribunes, and on many occasions proved

serviceable to Rome.

I am led by this circumstance to remark, that when many powerful

persons are united against one, who, although no match for the others

collectively, is also powerful, the chances are more in favour of this

single and less I powerful person, than of the many who together are

much stronger. For setting aside an infinity of accidents which can be

turned to better account by one than by many, it will always happen

that, by exercising a little dexterity, the one will be able to divide

the many, and weaken the force which was strong while it was united. In

proof whereof, I shall not refer to ancient examples, though many such

might be cited, but content myself with certain modern instances taken

from the events of our own times.

In the year 1484, all Italy combined against the Venetians, who finding

their position desperate, and being unable to keep their army any

longer in the field, bribed Signer Lodovico, who then governed Milan,

and so succeeded in effecting a settlement, whereby they not only

recovered the towns they had lost, but also obtained for themselves a

part of the territories of Ferrara; so that those were by peace the

gainers, who in war had been the losers. Not many years ago the whole

world was banded together against France; but before the war came to a

close, Spain breaking with the confederates and entering into a

separate treaty with France, the other members of the league also, were

presently forced to make terms.

Wherefore we may always assume when we see a war set on foot by many

against one, that this one, if he have strength to withstand the first

shock, and can temporize and wait his opportunity, is certain to

prevail. But unless he can do this he runs a thousand dangers: as did

the Venetians in the year 1508, who, could they have temporized with

the French, and so got time to conciliate some of those who had

combined against them, might have escaped the ruin which then overtook

them. But not possessing such a strong army as would have enabled them

to temporize with their enemies, and consequently not having the time

needed for gaining any to their side, they were undone. Yet we know

that the Pope, as soon as he had obtained what he wanted, made friends

with them, and that Spain did the like; and that both the one and the

other of these powers would gladly have saved the Lombard territory for

themselves, nor would, if they could have helped it, have left it to

France, so as to augment her influence in Italy.

The Venetians, therefore, should have given up a part to save the rest;

and had they done so at a time when the surrender would not have seemed

to be made under compulsion, and before any step had been taken in the

direction of war, it would have been a most prudent course; although

discreditable and probably of little avail after war had been begun.

But until the war broke out, few of the Venetian citizens recognized

the danger, fewer still the remedy, and none ventured to prescribe it.

But to return to the point whence we started, I say that the same

safeguard for their country which the Roman senate found against the

ambition of the tribunes in their number, is within the reach of the

prince who is attacked by many adversaries, if he only know to use

prudently those methods which promote division.

CHAPTER XII.—_A prudent Captain will do what he can to make it

necessary for his own Soldiers to fight, and to relieve his Enemy from

that necessity._

Elsewhere I have noted how greatly men are governed in what they do by

Necessity, and how much of their renown is due to her guidance, so that

it has even been said by some philosophers, that the hands and tongues

of men, the two noblest instruments of their fame, would never have

worked to perfection, nor have brought their labours to that pitch of

excellence we see them to have reached, had they not been impelled by

this cause. The captains of antiquity, therefore, knowing the virtues

of this necessity, and seeing the steadfast courage which it gave their

soldiers in battle, spared no effort to bring their armies under its

influence, while using all their address to loosen its hold upon their

enemies. For which reason, they would often leave open to an adversary

some way which they might have closed, and close against their own men

some way they might have left open.

Whosoever, therefore, would have a city defend itself stubbornly, or an

army fight resolutely in the field, must before all things endeavour to

impress the minds of those whom he commands with the belief that no

other course is open to them. In like manner a prudent captain who

undertakes the attack of a city, will measure the ease or difficulty of

his enterprise, by knowing and considering the nature of the necessity

which compels the inhabitants to defend it; and where he finds that

necessity to be strong, he may infer that his task will be difficult,

but if otherwise, that it will be easy.

And hence it happens that cities are harder to be recovered after a

revolt than to be taken for the first time. Because on a first attack,

having no occasion to fear punishment, since they have given no ground

of offence, they readily surrender; but when they have revolted, they

know that they have given ground of offence, and, fearing punishment,

are not so easily brought under. A like stubbornness grows from the

natural hostility with which princes or republics who are neighbours

regard one another; which again is caused by the desire to dominate

over those who live near, or from jealousy of their power. This is more

particularly the case with republics, as in Tuscany for example; for

contention and rivalry have always made, and always will make it

extremely hard for one republic to bring another into subjection. And

for this reason any one who considers attentively who are the

neighbours of Florence, and who of Venice, will not marvel so much as

some have done, that Florence should have spent more than Venice on her

wars and gained less; since this results entirely from the Venetians

finding their neighbouring towns less obstinate in their resistance

than the Florentines theirs. For all the towns in the neighbourhood of

Venice have been used to live under princes and not in freedom; and

those who are used to servitude commonly think little of changing

masters, nay are often eager for the change. In this way Venice, though

she has had more powerful neighbours than Florence, has been able, from

finding their towns less stubborn, to subdue them more easily than the

latter, surrounded exclusively by free cities, has had it in her power

to do.

But, to return to the matter in hand, the captain who attacks a town

should use what care he can, not to drive the defenders to extremities,

lest he render them stubborn; but when they fear punishment should

promise them pardon, and when they fear for their freedom should assure

them that he has no designs against the common welfare, but only

against a few ambitious men in their city; for such assurances have

often smoothed the way to the surrender of towns. And although pretexts

of this sort are easily seen through, especially by the wise, the mass

of the people are often beguiled by them, because desiring present

tranquillity, they shut their eyes to the snares hidden behind these

specious promises. By means such as these, therefore, cities

innumerable have been brought into subjection, as recently was the case

with Florence. The ruin of Crassus and his army was similarly caused:

for although he himself saw through the empty promises of the

Parthians, as meant only to blind the Roman soldiers to the necessity

of defending themselves, yet he could not keep his men steadfast, they,

as we clearly gather in reading the life of this captain, being

deceived by the offers of peace held out to them by their enemies.

On the other hand, when the Samnites, who, at the instance of a few

ambitious men, and in violation of the terms of the truce made with

them, had overrun and pillaged lands belonging to the allies of Rome,

afterwards sent envoys to Rome to implore peace, offering to restore

whatever they had taken, and to surrender the authors of these injuries

and outrages as prisoners, and these offers were rejected by the

Romans, and the envoys returned to Samnium bringing with them no hope

of an adjustment, Claudius Pontius, who then commanded the army of the

Samnites, showed them in a remarkable speech, that the Romans desired

war at all hazards, and declared that, although for the sake of his

country he wished for peace, necessity constrained him to prepare for

war; telling them “_that was a just war which could not be escaped, and

those arms sacred in which lay their only hopes._” And building on this

necessity, he raised in the minds of his soldiers a confident

expectation of success. That I may not have to revert to this matter

again, it will be convenient to notice here those examples from Roman

history which most merit attention. When Caius Manilius was in command

of the legions encamped against Veii, a division of the Veientine army

having got within the Roman intrenchments, Manilius ran forward with a

company of his men to defend them, and, to prevent the escape of the

Veientines, guarded all the approaches to the camp. The Veientines

finding themselves thus shut in, began to fight with such fury that

they slew Manilius, and would have destroyed all the rest of the Roman

army, had not the prudence of one of the tribunes opened a way for the

Veientines to retreat. Here we see that so long as necessity compelled,

the Veientines fought most fiercely, but on finding a path opened for

escape, preferred flight to combat. On another occasion when the

Volscians and Equians passed with their armies across the Roman

frontier, the consuls were sent out to oppose them, and an engagement

ensued. It so happened that when the combat was at its height, the army

of the Volscians, commanded by Vectius Mescius, suddenly found

themselves shut in between their own camp, which a division of the

Romans had occupied, and the body of the Roman army; when seeing that

they must either perish or cut a way for themselves with their swords,

Vectius said to them, “_Come on, my men, here is no wall or rampart to

be scaled: we fight man with man; in valour we are their equals, and

necessity, that last and mightiest weapon, gives us the advantage._”

Here, then, necessity is spoken of by Titus Livius as _the last and

mightiest weapon_.

Camillus, the wisest and most prudent of all the Roman commanders, when

he had got within the town of Veii with his army, to make its surrender

easier and not to drive its inhabitants to desperation, called out to

his men, so that the Veientines might hear, to spare all whom they

found unarmed. Whereupon the defenders throwing away their weapons, the

town was taken almost without bloodshed. And this device was afterwards

followed by many other captains.

CHAPTER XIII.—_Whether we may trust more to a valiant Captain with a

weak Army, or to a valiant Army with a weak Captain._

Coriolanus being banished from Rome betook himself to the Volscians,

and when he had got together an army wherewith to avenge himself on his

countrymen, came back to Rome; yet, again withdrew, not constrained to

retire by the might of the Roman arms, but out of reverence for his

mother. From this incident, says Titus Livius, we may learn that the

spread of the Roman power was due more to the valour of her captains

than of her soldiers. For before this the Volscians had always been

routed, and only grew successful when Coriolanus became their captain.

But though Livius be of this opinion, there are many passages in his

history to show that the Roman soldiers, even when left without

leaders, often performed astonishing feats of valour, nay, sometimes

maintained better discipline and fought with greater spirit after their

consuls were slain than they had before. For example, the army under

the Scipios in Spain, after its two leaders had fallen, was able by its

valour not merely to secure its own safety, but to overcome the enemy

and preserve the province for the Roman Republic. So that to state the

case fairly, we find many instances in which the valour of the soldiers

alone gained the day, as well as many in which success was wholly due

to the excellence of the captain. From which it may be inferred that

the one stands in need of the other.

And here the question suggests itself: which is the more formidable, a

good army badly led, or a good captain commanding an indifferent army;

though, were we to adopt the opinion of Cæsar on this head, we ought

lightly to esteem both. For when Cæsar went to Spain against Afranius

and Petreius, who were there in command of a strong army, he made

little account of them, saying, “_that he went to fight an army without

a captain_,” indicating thereby the weakness of these generals. And,

conversely, when he went to encounter Pompeius in Thessaly, he said,

“_I go against a captain without an army_.”[13]

[13] Professus ante inter suos, ire se ad exercitum sine duce, et inde

reversurum ad ducem sine exercitu. (_Suet. in Vita J. Caes._)

A further question may also be raised, whether it is easier for a good

captain to make a good army, or for a good army to make a good captain.

As to this it might be thought there was barely room for doubt, since

it ought to be far easier for many who are good to find one who is good

or teach him to become so, than for one who is good to find or make

many good. Lucullus when sent against Mithridates was wholly without

experience in war: but his brave army, which was provided with many

excellent officers, speedily taught him to be a good captain. On the

other hand, when the Romans, being badly off for soldiers, armed a

number of slaves and gave them over to be drilled by Sempronius

Gracchus, he in a short time made them into a serviceable army. So too,

as I have already mentioned, Pelopidas and Epaminondas after rescuing

Thebes, their native city, from Spartan thraldom, in a short time made

such valiant soldiers of the Theban peasantry, as to be able with their

aid not only to withstand, but even to defeat the Spartan armies. So

that the question may seem to be equally balanced, excellence on one

side generally finding excellence on the other.

A good army, however, when left without a good leader, as the

Macedonian army was on the death of Alexander, or as those veterans

were who had fought in the civil wars, is apt to grow restless and

turbulent. Wherefore I am convinced that it is better to trust to the

captain who has time allowed him to discipline his men, and means

wherewith to equip them, than to a tumultuary host with a chance leader

of its own choosing. But twofold is the merit and twofold the glory of

those captains who not only have had to subdue their enemies, but also

before encountering them to organize and discipline their forces. This,

however, is a task requiring qualities so seldom combined, that were

many of those captains who now enjoy a great name with the world,

called on to perform it, they would be much less thought of than they

are.

CHAPTER XIV.—_Of the effect produced in Battle by strange and

unexpected Sights or Sounds._

That the disorder occasioned by strange and unexpected sights or sounds

may have momentous consequences in combat, might be shown by many

instances, but by none better than by what befell in the battle fought

between the Romans and the Volscians, when Quintius, the Roman general,

seeing one wing of his army begin to waver, shouted aloud to his men to

stand firm, for the other wing was already victorious. Which words of

his giving confidence to his own troops and striking the enemy with

dismay won him the battle. But if a cry like this, produce great effect

on a well disciplined army, far greater must be its effect on one which

is ill disciplined and disorderly. For by such a wind the whole mass

will be moved, as I shall show by a well-known instance happening in

our own times.

A few years ago the city of Perugia was split into the two factions of

the Baglioni and the Oddi, the former holding the government, the

latter being in exile. The Oddeschi, however, with the help of friends,

having got together an armed force which they lodged in villages of

their own near Perugia, obtained, by the favour of some of their party,

an entrance into the city by night, and moving forward without

discovery, came as far as the public square. And as all the streets of

Perugia are barred with chains drawn across them at their corners, the

Oddeschi had in front of them a man who carried an iron hammer

wherewith to break the fastenings of the chains so that horsemen might

pass. When the only chain remaining unbroken was that which closed the

public square, the alarm having now been given, the hammerman was so

impeded by the crowd pressing behind him that he could not raise his

arm to strike freely. Whereupon, to get more room for his work, he

called aloud to the others to stand back; and the word back passing

from rank to rank those furthest off began to run, and, presently, the

others also, with such precipitancy, that they fell into utter

disorder. In this way, and from this trifling circumstance, the attempt

of the Oddeschi came to nothing.

Here we may note that discipline is needed in an army, not so much to

enable it to fight according to a settled order, as that it may not be

thrown into confusion by every insignificant accident. For a tumultuary

host is useless in war, simply because every word, or cry, or sound,

may throw it into a panic and cause it to fly. Wherefore it behoves a

good captain to provide that certain fixed persons shall receive his

orders and pass them on to the rest, and to accustom his soldiers to

look to these persons, and to them only, to be informed what his orders

are. For whenever this precaution is neglected the gravest mishaps are

constantly seen to ensue.

As regards strange and unexpected sights, every captain should

endeavour while his army is actually engaged with the enemy, to effect

some such feint or diversion as will encourage his own men and dismay

his adversary since this of all things that can happen is the likeliest

to ensure victory. In evidence whereof we may cite the example of

Cneius Sulpitius, the Roman dictator, who, when about to give battle to

the Gauls, after arming his sutlers and camp followers, mounted them on

mules and other beasts of burden, furnished them with spears and

banners to look like cavalry, and placing them behind a hill, ordered

them on a given signal, when the fight was at the hottest, to appear

and show themselves to the enemy. All which being carried out as he had

arranged, threw the Gauls into such alarm, that they lost the battle.

A good captain, therefore, has two things to see to: first, to contrive

how by some sudden surprise he may throw his enemy into confusion; and

next, to be prepared should the enemy use a like stratagem against him

to discover and defeat it; as the stratagem of Semiramis was defeated

by the King of India. For Semiramis seeing that this king had elephants

in great numbers, to dismay him by showing that she, too, was well

supplied, caused the skins of many oxen and buffaloes to be sewn

together in the shape of elephants and placed upon camels and sent to

the front. But the trick being detected by the king, turned out not

only useless but hurtful to its contriver. In a battle which the

Dictator Mamercus fought against the people of Fidenae, the latter, to

strike terror into the minds of the Romans, contrived that while the

combat raged a number of soldiers should issue from Fidenae bearing

lances tipped with fire, thinking that the Romans, disturbed by so

strange a sight, would be thrown into confusion.

We are to note, however, with regard to such contrivances, that if they

are to serve any useful end, they should _be_ formidable as well as

_seem_ so; for when they menace a real danger, their weak points are

not so soon discerned. When they have more of pretence than reality, it

will be well either to dispense with them altogether, or resorting to

them, to keep them, like the muleteers of Sulpitius, in the background,

so that they be not too readily found out. For any weakness inherent in

them is soon discovered if they be brought near, when, as happened with

the elephants of Semiramis and the fiery spears of the men of Fidenae,

they do harm rather than good. For although by this last-mentioned

device the Romans at the first were somewhat disconcerted, so soon as

the dictator came up and began to chide them, asking if they were not

ashamed to fly like bees from smoke, and calling on them to turn on

their enemy, and “_with her own flames efface that Fidenae whom their

benefits could not conciliate_,” they took courage; so that the device

proved of no service to its contrivers, who were vanquished in the

battle.

CHAPTER XV.—_That one and not many should head an Army: and why it is

harmful to have more Leaders than one._

The men of Fidenae rising against the colonists whom the Romans had

settled among them, and putting them to the sword, the Romans to avenge

the insult appointed four tribunes with consular powers: one of whom

they retained to see to the defence of Rome, while the other three were

sent against the Fidenati and the Veientines. But these three falling

out among themselves, and being divided in their counsels, returned

from their mission with discredit though not with loss. Of which

discredit they were themselves the cause. That they sustained no loss

was due to the valour of their soldiers But the senate perceiving the

source of the mischief, to the end that one man might put to rights

what three had thrown into confusion, resorted to the appointment of a

dictator.

Here we see the disadvantage of having several leaders in one army or

in a town which has to defend itself. And the case could not be put in

clearer words than by Titus Livius, where he says, “_The three tribunes

with consular authority gave proof how hurtful it is in war to have

many leaders; for each forming a different opinion, and each abiding by

his own, they threw opportunities in the way of their enemies._” And

though this example suffice by itself to show the disadvantage in war

of divided commands, to make the matter still plainer I shall cite two

further instances, one ancient and one modern.

In the year 1500, Louis XII. of France, after recovering Milan, sent

troops to restore Pisa to the Florentines, Giovambattista Ridolfi and

Luca d’Antonio Albizzi going with them as commissaries. Now, because

Giovambattista had a great name, and was older than Luca, the latter

left the whole management of everything to him; and although he did not

show his jealousy of him by opposing him, he betrayed it by his

silence, and by being so careless and indifferent about everything,

that he gave no help in the business of the siege either by word or

deed, just as though he had been a person of no account. But when, in

consequence of an accident, Giovambattista had to return to Florence,

all this was changed; for Luca, remaining in sole charge, behaved with

the greatest courage, prudence, and zeal, all which qualities had been

hidden while he held a joint command. Further to bear me out I shall

again borrow the words of Titus Livius, who, in relating how when

Quintius and Agrippa his colleague were sent by the Romans against the

Equians, Agrippa contrived that the conduct of the war should rest with

Quintius, observes, “_Most wholesome is it that in affairs of great

moment, supreme authority be vested in one man._” Very different,

however, is the course followed by the republics and princes of our own

days, who, thinking to be better served, are used to appoint several

captains or commissioners to fill one command; a practice giving rise

to so much confusion, that were we seeking for the causes of the

overthrow of the French and Italian armies in recent times, we should

find this to be the most active of any.

Rightly, therefore, may we conclude that in sending forth an army upon

service, it is wiser to entrust it to one man of ordinary prudence,

than to two of great parts but with a divided command.

CHAPTER XVI.—_That in Times of Difficulty true Worth is sought after;

whereas in quiet Times it is not the most deserving, but those who are

recommended by Wealth or Connection who are most in favour._

It always has happened and always will, that the great and admirable

men of a republic are neglected in peaceful times; because at such

seasons many citizens are found, who, envying the reputation these men

have justly earned, seek to be regarded not merely as their equals but

as their superiors. Touching this there is a notable passage in

Thucydides, the Greek historian, where he tells how the republic of

Athens coming victorious out of the Peloponessian war, wherein she had

bridled the pride of Sparta, and brought almost the whole of Greece

under her authority, was encouraged by the greatness of her renown to

propose to herself the conquest of Sicily. In Athens this scheme was

much debated, Alcibiades and certain others who had the public welfare

very little in their thoughts, but who hoped that the enterprise, were

they placed in command, might minister to their fame, recommending that

it should be undertaken. Nicias, on the other hand, one of the best

esteemed of the Athenian citizens, was against it, and in addressing

the people, gave it as the strongest reason for trusting his advice,

that in advising them not to engage in this war, he urged what was not

for his own advantage; for he knew that while Athens remained at peace

numberless citizens were ready to take precedence of him: whereas, were

war declared, he was certain that none would rank before him or even be

looked upon as his equal.

Here we see that in tranquil times republics are subject to the

infirmity of lightly esteeming their worthiest citizens. And this

offends these persons for two reasons: first, because they are not

given the place they deserve; and second, because they see unworthy men

and of abilities inferior to their own, as much or more considered than

they. Injustice such as this has caused the ruin of many republics. For

citizens who find themselves undeservedly slighted, and perceive the

cause to be that the times are tranquil and not troubled, will strive

to change the times by stirring up wars hurtful to the public welfare.

When I look for remedies for this state of things, I find two: first,

to keep the citizens poor, so that wealth without worth shall corrupt

neither them nor others; second, to be so prepared for war as always to

be ready to make war; for then there will always be a need for worthy

citizens, as was the case in Rome in early times. For as Rome

constantly kept her armies in the field, there was constant opportunity

for men to display their valour, nor was it possible to deprive a

deserving man of his post and give it to another who was not deserving.

Or if ever this were done by inadvertency, or by way of experiment,

there forthwith resulted such disorder and danger, that the city at

once retraced its steps and reverted to the true path. But other

republics which are not regulated on the same plan, and make war only

when driven to it by necessity, cannot help committing this injustice,

nay, will constantly run into it, when, if the great citizen who finds

himself slighted be vindictive, and have some credit and following in

the city, disorder will always ensue. And though Rome escaped this

danger for a time, she too, as has elsewhere been said, having no

longer, after she had conquered Carthage and Antiochus, any fear of

war, came to think she might commit her armies to whom she would,

making less account of the valour of her captains than of those other

qualities which gain favour with the people. Accordingly we find Paulus

Emilius rejected oftener than once when he sought the consulship; nor,

in fact, obtaining it until the Macedonian war broke out, which, being

judged a formidable business, was by the voice of the whole city

committed to his management. After the year 1494 our city of Florence

was involved in a series of wars, in conducting which none of our

citizens had any success until chance threw the command into the hands

of one who showed us how an army should be led. This was Antonio

Giacomini, and so long as there were dangerous wars on foot, all

rivalry on the part of other citizens was suspended; and whenever a

captain or commissary had to be appointed he was unopposed. But when a

war came to be undertaken, as to the issue of which no misgivings were

felt, and which promised both honour and preferment, so numerous were

the competitors for command, that three commissaries having to be

chosen to conduct the siege of Pisa, Antonio was left out; and though

it cannot with certainty be shown that any harm resulted to our

republic from his not having been sent on this enterprise, we may

reasonably conjecture that such was indeed the case. For as the people

of Pisa were then without means either for subsistence or defence, it

may be believed that had Antonio been there he would have reduced them

to such extremities as would have forced them to surrender at

discretion to the Florentines. But Pisa being besieged by captains who

knew neither how to blockade nor how to storm it, held out so long,

that the Florentines, who should have reduced it by force, were obliged

to buy its submission. Neglect like this might well move Antonio to

resentment; and he must needs have been both very patient and very

forgiving if he felt no desire to revenge himself when he could, by the

ruin of the city or by injuries to individual citizens. But a republic

should beware not to rouse such feelings, as I shall show in the

following Chapter.

CHAPTER XVII.—_That we are not to offend a Man, and then send him to

fill an important Office or Command._

A republic should think twice before appointing to an important command

a citizen who has sustained notable wrong at the hands of his

fellow-citizens. Claudius Nero, quitting the army with which he was

opposing Hannibal, went with a part of his forces into the March of

Ancona, designing to join the other consul there, and after joining him

to attack Hasdrubal before he came up with his brother. Now Claudius

had previously commanded against Hasdrubal in Spain, and after driving

him with his army into such a position that it seemed he must either

fight at a disadvantage or perish by famine, had been outwitted by his

adversary, who, while diverting his attention with proposals of terms,

contrived to slip through his hands and rob him of the opportunity for

effecting his destruction. This becoming known in Rome brought Claudius

into so much discredit both with the senate and people, that to his

great mortification and displeasure, he was slightingly spoken of by

the whole city. But being afterwards made consul and sent to oppose

Hannibal, he took the course mentioned above, which was in itself so

hazardous that all Rome was filled with doubt and anxiety until tidings

came of Hasdrubal’s defeat. When subsequently asked why he had played

so dangerous a game, wherein without urgent necessity he had staked the

very existence of Rome, Claudius answered, he had done so because he

knew that were he to succeed he would recover whatever credit he had

lost in Spain; while if he failed, and his attempt had an untoward

issue, he would be revenged on that city and On those citizens who had

so ungratefully and indiscreetly wronged him.

But if resentment for an offence like this so deeply moved a Roman

citizen at a time when Rome was still uncorrupted, we should consider

how it may act on the citizen of a State not constituted as Rome then

was. And because there is no certain remedy we can apply to such

disorders when they arise in republics, it follows that it is

impossible to establish a republic which shall endure always; since in

a thousand unforeseen ways ruin may overtake it.

CHAPTER XVIII.—_That it is the highest Quality of a Captain to be able

to forestall the designs of his Adversary._

It was a saying of Epaminondas the Theban that nothing was so useful

and necessary for a commander as to be able to see through the

intentions and designs of his adversary. And because it is hard to come

at this knowledge directly, the more credit is due to him who reaches

it by conjecture. Yet sometimes it is easier to fathom an enemy’s

designs than to construe his actions; and not so much those actions

which are done at a distance from us, as those done in our presence and

under our very eyes. For instance, it has often happened that when a

battle has lasted till nightfall, the winner has believed himself the

loser, and the loser has believed himself the winner and that this

mistake has led him who made it to follow a course hurtful to himself.

It was from a mistake of this sort, that Brutus and Cassius lost the

battle of Philippi. For though Brutus was victorious with his wing of

the army Cassius, whose wing was beaten, believed the entire army to be

defeated, and under this belief gave way to despair and slew himself.

So too, in our own days, in the battle fought by Francis, king of

France, with the Swiss at Santa Cecilia in Lombardy, when night fell,

those of the Swiss who remained unbroken, not knowing that the rest had

been routed and slain, thought they had the victory; and so believing

would not retreat, but, remaining on the field, renewed the combat the

following morning to their great disadvantage. Nor were they the only

sufferers from their mistake, since the armies of the Pope and of Spain

were also misled by it, and well-nigh brought to destruction. For on

the false report of a victory they crossed the Po, and had they only

advanced a little further must have been made prisoners by the

victorious French.

An instance is recorded of a like mistake having been made in the camps

both of the Romans and of the Equians. For the Consul Sempronius being

in command against the Equians, and giving the enemy battle, the

engagement lasted with varying success till nightfall, when as both

armies had suffered what was almost a defeat, neither returned to their

camp, but each drew off to the neighboring hills where they thought

they would be safer. The Romans separated into two divisions, one of

which with the consul, the other with the centurion Tempanius by whose

valour the army had that day been saved from utter rout. At daybreak

the consul, without waiting for further tidings of the enemy, made

straight for Rome; and the Equians, in like manner, withdrew to their

own country. For as each supposed the other to be victorious, neither

thought much of leaving their camp to be plundered by the enemy. It so

chanced, however, that Tempanius, who was himself retreating with the

second division of the Roman army, fell in with certain wounded

Equians, from whom he learned that their commanders had fled,

abandoning their camp; on hearing which, he at once returned to the

Roman camp and secured it, and then, after sacking the camp of the

Equians, went back victorious to Rome. His success, as we see, turned

entirely on his being the first to be informed of the enemy’s

condition. And here we are to note that it may often happen that both

the one and the other of two opposed armies shall fall into the same

disorder, and be reduced to the same straits; in which case, that which

soonest detects the other’s distress is sure to come off best.

I shall give an instance of this which occurred recently in our own

country. In the year 1498, when the Florentines had a great army in the

territory of Pisa and had closely invested the town, the Venetians, who

had undertaken its protection, seeing no other way to save it, resolved

to make a diversion in its favour by attacking the territories of the

Florentines in another quarter. Wherefore, having assembled a strong

force, they entered Tuscany by the Val di Lamona, and seizing on the

village of Marradi, besieged the stronghold of Castiglione which stands

on the height above it. Getting word of this, the Florentines sought to

relieve Marradi, without weakening the army which lay round Pisa. They

accordingly raised a new levy of foot-soldiers, and equipped a fresh

squadron of horse, which they despatched to Marradi under the joint

command of Jacopo IV. d’Appiano, lord of Piombino, and Count Rinuccio

of Marciano. These troops taking up their position on the hill above

Marradi, the Venetians withdrew from the investment of Castiglione and

lodged themselves in the village. But when the two armies had

confronted one another for several days, both began to suffer sorely

from want of victuals and other necessaries, and neither of them daring

to attack the other, or knowing to what extremities the other was

reduced, both simultaneously resolved to strike their camps the

following morning, and to retreat, the Venetians towards Berzighella

and Faenza, the Florentines towards Casaglia and the Mugello. But at

daybreak, when both armies had begun to remove their baggage, it so

happened that an old woman, whose years and poverty permitted her to

pass unnoticed, leaving the village of Marradi, came to the Florentine

camp, where were certain of her kinsfolk whom she desired to visit.

Learning from her that the Venetians were in retreat, the Florentine

commanders took courage, and changing their plan, went in pursuit of

the enemy as though they had dislodged them, sending word to Florence

that they had repulsed the Venetians and gained a victory. But in truth

this victory was wholly due to their having notice of the enemy’s

movements before the latter had notice of theirs. For had that notice

been given to the Venetians first, it would have wrought against us the

same results as it actually wrought for us.

CHAPTER XIX.—_Whether Indulgence or Severity be more necessary for

controlling a Multitude._

The Roman Republic was distracted by the feuds of the nobles and

commons. Nevertheless, on war breaking out, Quintius and Appius

Claudius were sent forth in command of Roman armies. From his harshness

and severity to his soldiers, Appius was so ill obeyed by them, that

after sustaining what almost amounted to a defeat, he had to resign his

command. Quintius, on the contrary, by kindly and humane treatment,

kept his men obedient and returned victorious to Rome. From this it

might seem that to govern a large body of men, it is better to be

humane than haughty, and kindly rather than severe.

And yet Cornelius Tacitus, with whom many other authors are agreed,

pronounces a contrary opinion where he says, “_In governing a multitude

it avails more to punish than to be compliant._”[14] If it be asked how

these opposite views can be reconciled, I answer that you exercise

authority either over men used to regard you as their equal, or over

men who have always been subject to you. When those over whom you

exercise authority are your equals, you cannot trust wholly to

punishment or to that severity of which Tacitus speaks. And since in

Rome itself the commons had equal weight with the nobles, none

appointed their captain for a time only, could control them by using

harshness and severity. Accordingly we find that those Roman captains

who gained the love of their soldiers and were considerate of them,

often achieved greater results than those who made themselves feared by

them in an unusual degree, unless, like Manlius Torquatus, these last

were endowed with consummate valour. But he who has to govern subjects

such as those of whom Tacitus speaks, to prevent their growing insolent

and trampling upon him by reason of his too great easiness, must resort

to punishment rather than to compliance. Still, to escape hatred,

punishment should be moderate in degree, for to make himself hated is

never for the interest of any prince. And to escape hatred, a prince

has chiefly to guard against tampering with the property of any of his

subjects; for where nothing is to be gained by it, no prince will

desire to shed blood, unless, as seldom happens, constrained to do so

by necessity. But where advantage is to be gained thereby, blood will

always flow, and neither the desire to shed it, nor causes for shedding

it will ever be wanting, as I have fully shown when discussing this

subject in another treatise.

[14] “In multitudine regenda plus poena quam obsequium valet.” But

compare Annals, III. 55, “Obsequium inde in principem et æmulandi amoi

validioi quam poena ex legibus et metus.”

Quintius therefore was more deserving of praise than Appius.

Nevertheless the opinion of Tacitus, duly restricted and not understood

as applying to a case like that of Appius, merits approval. But since I

have spoken of punishment and indulgence, it seems not out of place to

show how a single act of humanity availed more than arms with the

citizens of Falerii.

CHAPTER XX.—_How one humane act availed more with the men of Falerii,

than all the might of the Roman Arms._

When the besieging army of the Romans lay round Falerii, the master of

a school wherein the best-born youths of the city were taught, thinking

to curry favour with Camillus and the Romans, came forth from the town

with these boys, on pretence of giving them exercise, and bringing them

into the camp where Camillus was, presented them to him, saying, “_To

ransom these that city would yield itself into your hands._” Camillus,

however, not only rejected this offer, but causing the schoolmaster to

be stripped and his hands tied behind him, gave each of the boys a

scourge, and bade them lead the fellow back to the town scourging him

as they went. When the citizens of Falerii heard of this, so much were

they pleased with the humanity and integrity of Camillus, that they

resolved to surrender their town to him without further defence.

This authentic instance may lead us to believe that a humane and kindly

action may sometimes touch men’s minds more nearly than a harsh and

cruel one; and that those cities and provinces into which the

instruments and engines of war, with every other violence to which men

resort, have failed to force a way, may be thrown open to a single act

of tenderness, mercy, chastity, or generosity. Whereof history supplies

us with many examples besides the one which I have just now noticed.

For we find that when the arms of Rome were powerless to drive Pyrrhus

out of Italy, he was moved to depart by the generosity of Fabritius in

disclosing to him the proposal which his slave had made the Romans to

poison him. Again, we read how Scipio gained less reputation in Spain

by the capture of New Carthage, than by his virtue in restoring a young

and beautiful wife unviolated to her husband; the fame of which action

won him the love of the whole province. We see, too, how much this

generous temper is esteemed by a people in its great men; and how much

it is praised by historians and by those who write the lives of

princes, as well as by those who lay down rules of human conduct. Among

whom Xenophon has taken great pains to show what honours, and

victories, and how fair a fame accrued to Cyrus from his being kindly

and gracious, without taint of pride, or cruelty, or luxury, or any

other of those vices which cast a stain upon men’s lives.

And yet when we note that Hannibal, by methods wholly opposite to

these, achieved splendid victories and a great renown, I think I am

bound to say something in my next Chapter as to how this happened.

CHAPTER XXI.—_How it happened that Hannibal pursuing a course contrary

to that taken by Scipio, wrought the same results in Italy which the

other achieved in Spain._

Some, I suspect, may marvel to find a captain, taking a contrary

course, nevertheless arrive at the same ends as those who have pursued

the methods above spoken of; since it must seem as though success did

not depend on the causes I have named; nay, that if glory and fame are

to be won in other ways, these causes neither add to our strength nor

advance our fortunes. Wherefore, to make my meaning plain, and not to

part company with the men of whom I have been speaking, I say, that as,

on the one hand, we see Scipio enter Spain, and by his humane and

generous conduct at once secure the good-will of the province, and the

admiration and reverence of its inhabitants, so on the other hand, we

see Hannibal enter Italy, and by methods wholly opposite, to wit, by

violence and rapine, by cruelty and treachery of every kind, effect in

that country the very same results. For all the States of Italy

revolted in his favour, and all the Italian nations ranged themselves

on his side.

When we seek to know why this was, several reasons present themselves,

the first being that men so passionately love change, that, commonly

speaking, those who are well off are as eager for it as those who are

badly off: for as already has been said with truth, men are pampered by

prosperity, soured by adversity. This love of change, therefore, makes

them open the door to any one who puts himself at the head of new

movements in their country, and if he be a foreigner they adopt his

cause, if a fellow-countryman they gather round him and become his

partisans and supporters; so that whatever methods he may there use, he

will succeed in making great progress. Moreover, men being moved by two

chief passions, love and fear, he who makes himself feared commands

with no less authority than he who makes himself loved; nay, as a rule,

is followed and obeyed more implicitly than the other. It matters

little, however, which of these two ways a captain chooses to follow,

provided he be of transcendent valour, and has thereby won for himself

a great name For when, like Hannibal or Scipio, a man is very valiant,

this quality will cloak any error he may commit in seeking either to be

too much loved or too much feared. Yet from each of these two

tendencies, grave mischiefs, and such as lead to the ruin of a prince,

may arise. For he who would be greatly loved, if he swerve ever so

little from the right road, becomes contemptible; while he who would be

greatly feared, if he go a jot too far, incurs hatred. And since it is

impossible, our nature not allowing it, to adhere to the exact mean, it

is essential that any excess should be balanced by an exceeding valour,

as it was in Hannibal and Scipio. And yet we find that even they, while

they were exalted by the methods they followed, were also injured by

them. How they were exalted has been shown. The injury which Scipio

suffered was, that in Spain his soldiers, in concert with certain of

his allies, rose against him, for no other reason than that they stood

in no fear of him. For men are so restless, that if ever so small a

door be opened to their ambition, they forthwith forget all the love

they have borne their prince in return for his graciousness and

goodness, as did these soldiers and allies of Scipio; when, to correct

the mischief, he was forced to use something of a cruelty foreign to

his nature.

As to Hannibal, we cannot point to any particular instance wherein his

cruelty or want of faith are seen to have been directly hurtful to him;

but we may well believe that Naples and other towns which remained

loyal to the Roman people, did so by reason of the dread which his

character inspired. This, however, is abundantly clear, that his

inhumanity made him more detested by the Romans than any other enemy

they ever had; so that while to Pyrrhus, in Italy with his army, they

gave up the traitor who offered to poison him, Hannibal, even when

disarmed and a fugitive, they never forgave, until they had compassed

his death.

To Hannibal, therefore, from his being accounted impious, perfidious,

and cruel, these disadvantages resulted; but, on the other hand, there

accrued to him one great gain, noticed with admiration by all

historians, namely, that in his army, although made up of men of every

race and country, no dissensions ever broke out among the soldiers

themselves, nor any mutiny against their leader. This we can only

ascribe to the awe which his character inspired, which together with

the great name his valour had won for him, had the effect of keeping

his soldiers quiet and united. I repeat, therefore, that it is of

little moment which method a captain may follow if he be endowed with

such valour as will bear him out in the course which he adopts. For, as

I have said, there are disadvantages incident to both methods unless

corrected by extraordinary valour.

And now, since I have spoken of Scipio and Hannibal, the former of whom

by praiseworthy, the latter by odious qualities, effected the same

results, I must not, I think, omit to notice the characters of two

Roman citizens, who by different, yet both by honourable methods,

obtained a like glory.

Chapter XXII.—_That the severity of Manlius Torquatus and the

gentleness of Valerius Corvinus won for both the same Glory._

There lived in Rome, at the same time, two excellent captains, Manlius

Torquatus and Valerius Corvinus, equal in their triumphs and in their

renown, and in the valour which in obtaining these they had displayed

against the enemy; but who in the conduct of their armies and treatment

of their soldiers, followed very different methods. For Manlius, in his

command, resorted to every kind of severity, never sparing his men

fatigue, nor remitting punishment; while Valerius, on the contrary,

treated them with all kindness and consideration, and was easy and

familiar in his intercourse with them. So that while the one, to secure

the obedience of his soldiers, put his own son to death, the other

never dealt harshly with any man. Yet, for all this diversity in their

modes of acting, each had the same success against the enemy, and each

obtained the same advantages both for the republic and for himself. For

no soldier of theirs ever flinched in battle, or rose in mutiny against

them, or in any particular opposed their will; though the commands of

Manlius were of such severity that any order of excessive rigour came

to be spoken of as a _Manlian order_.

Here, then, we have to consider first of all why Manlius was obliged to

use such severity; next, why Valerius could behave so humanely;

thirdly, how it was that these opposite methods had the same results;

and lastly, which of the two methods it is better and more useful for

us to follow. Now, if we well examine the character of Manlius from the

moment when Titus Livius first begins to make mention of him, we shall

find him to have been endowed with a rare vigour both of mind and body,

dutiful in his behaviour to his father and to his country, and most

reverent to his superiors. All which we see in his slaying the Gaul, in

his defence of his father against the tribune, and in the words in

which, before going forth to fight the Gaul, he addressed the consul,

when he said, “_Although assured of victory, never will I without thy

bidding engage an enemy._” But when such a man as this attains to

command, he looks to find all others like himself; his dauntless spirit

prompts him to engage in daring enterprises, and to insist on their

being carried out. And this is certain, that where things hard to

execute are ordered to be done, the order must be enforced with

sternness, since, otherwise, it will be disobeyed.

And here be it noted that if you would be obeyed you must know how to

command, and that they alone have this knowledge who have measured

their power to enforce, with the willingness of others to yield

obedience; and who issue their orders when they find these conditions

combining, but, otherwise, abstain. Wherefore, a wise man was wont to

say that to hold a republic by force, there must be a proportion

between him who uses the force and him against whom it is used; and

that while this proportion obtains the force will operate; but that

when he who suffers is stronger than he who uses the force, we may

expect to see it brought to an end at any moment.

But returning to the matter in hand, I say that to command things hard

of execution, requires hardness in him who gives the command, and that

a man of this temper and who issues such commands, cannot look to

enforce them by gentleness. He who is not of such a temper must be

careful not to impose tasks of extraordinary difficulty, but may use

his natural gentleness in imposing such as are ordinary. For common

punishments are not imputed to the prince, but to the laws and

ordinances which he has to administer.

We must believe, therefore, that Manlius was constrained to act with

severity by the unusual character of the commands which his natural

disposition prompted him to issue. Such commands are useful in a

republic, as restoring its ordinances to their original efficacy and

excellence. And were a republic, as I have before observed, fortunate

enough to come frequently under the influence of men who, by their

example, reinforce its laws, and not only retard its progress towards

corruption, but bring it back to its first perfection, it might endure

for ever.

Manlius, therefore, was of those who by the severity of their commands

maintained the military discipline of Rome; urged thereto, in the first

place, by his natural temper, and next by the desire that whatever he

was minded to command should be done. Valerius, on the other hand,

could afford to act humanely, because for him it was enough if all were

done which in a Roman army it was customary to do. And, since the

customs of that army were good customs, they sufficed to gain him

honour, while at the same time their maintenance cost him no effort,

nor threw on him the burthen of punishing transgressors; as well

because there were none who trangressed, as because had there been any,

they would, as I have said, have imputed their punishment to the

ordinary rules of discipline, and not to the severity of their

commander. In this way Valerius had room to exercise that humane

disposition which enabled him at once to gain influence over his

soldiers and to content them. Hence it was that both these captains

obtaining the same obedience, could, while following different methods,

arrive at the same ends. Those, however, who seek to imitate them may

chance to fall into the errors of which I have already spoken, in

connection with Hannibal and Scipio, as breeding contempt or hatred,

and which are only to be corrected by the presence of extraordinary

valour, and not otherwise.

It rests now to determine which of these two methods is the more to be

commended. This, I take it, is matter of dispute, since both methods

have their advocates. Those writers, however, who have laid down rules

for the conduct of princes, describe a character approaching more

nearly to that of Valerius than to that of Manlius; and Xenophon, whom

I have already cited, while giving many instances of the humanity of

Cyrus, conforms closely to what Livius tells us of Valerius. For

Valerius being made consul against the Samnites, on the eve of battle

spoke to his men with the same kindliness with which he always treated

them; and Livius, after telling us what he said, remarks of him:

“_Never was there a leader more familiar with his men; cheerfully

sharing with the meanest among them every hardship and fatigue. Even in

the military games, wherein those of the same rank were wont to make

trial of their strength or swiftness, he would good-naturedly take a

part, nor disdain any adversary who offered; meeting victory or defeat

with an unruffled temper and an unchanged countenance. When called on

to act, his bounty and generosity never fell short. When he had to

speak, he was as mindful of the feelings of others as of his own

dignity. And, what more than anything else secures the popular favour,

he maintained when exercising his magistracies the same bearing he had

worn in seeking them._”

Of Manlius also, Titus Livius speaks in like honourable terms, pointing

out that his severity in putting his son to death brought the Roman

army to that pitch of discipline which enabled it to prevail against

the Latins, nay, he goes so far in his praises that after describing

the whole order of the battle, comparing the strength of both armies,

and showing all the dangers the Romans ran, and the difficulties they

had to surmount, he winds up by saying, that it was the valour of

Manlius which alone gained for them this great victory, and that

whichever side had Manlius for its leader must have won the day. So

that weighing all that the historians tell us of these two captains, it

might be difficult to decide between them.

Nevertheless, not to leave the question entirely open, I say, that for

a citizen living under a republic, I think the conduct of Manlius more

deserving of praise and less dangerous in its consequences. For methods

like his tend only to the public good and in no way subserve private

ends. He who shows himself harsh and stern at all times and to all men

alike, and is seen to care only for the common welfare, will never gain

himself partisans, since this is not the way to win personal friends,

to whom, as I said before, the name of partisans is given. For a

republic, therefore, no line of conduct could be more useful or more to

be desired than this, because in following it the public interest is

not neglected, and no room is given to suspect personal ambition.

But the contrary holds as to the methods followed by Valerius. For

though the public service they render be the same, misgivings must

needs arise that the personal good-will which, in the course of a

prolonged command, a captain obtains from his soldiers, may lead to

consequences fatal to the public liberty. And if this was not found to

happen in the case of Valerius, it was because the minds of the Roman

people were not yet corrupted, and because they had never remained for

a long time and continuously under his command.

Had we, however, like Xenophon, to consider what is most for the

interest of a prince, we should have to give up Manlius and hold by

Valerius; for, undoubtedly, a prince should strive to gain the love of

his soldiers and subjects, as well as their obedience. The latter he

can secure by discipline and by his reputation for valour. But for the

former he will be indebted to his affability, kindliness, gentleness,

and all those other like qualities which were possessed by Valerius,

and which are described by Xenophon as existing in Cyrus. That a prince

should be personally loved and have his army wholly devoted to him is

consistent with the character of his government; but that this should

happen to a person of private station does not consist with his

position as a citizen who has to live in conformity with the laws and

in subordination to the magistrates. We read in the early annals of the

Venetian Republic, that once, on the return of the fleet, a dispute

broke out between the sailors and the people, resulting in tumults and

armed violence which neither the efforts of the public officers, the

respect felt for particular citizens, nor the authority of the

magistrates could quell. But on a certain gentleman, who the year

before had been in command of these sailors, showing himself among

them, straightway, from the love they bore him, they submitted to his

authority and withdrew from the fray. Which deference on their part

aroused such jealousy and suspicion in the minds of the Venetian

senators that very soon after they got rid of this gentleman, either by

death or exile.

The sum of the matter, therefore, is, that the methods followed by

Valerius are useful in a prince, but pernicious in a private citizen,

both for his country and for himself, for his country, because such

methods pave the way to a tyranny; for himself, because his

fellow-citizens, growing suspicious of his conduct, are constrained to

protect themselves to his hurt. And conversely, I maintain, that the

methods of Manlius, while hurtful in a prince are useful in a citizen,

and in the highest degree for his country; and, moreover, seldom give

offence, unless the hatred caused by his severity be augmented by the

jealousy which the fame of his other virtues inspires: a matter now to

be considered in connection with the banishment of Camillas.

CHAPTER XXIII.—_Why Camillus was banished from Rome._

It has been shown above how methods like those of Valerius are hurtful

to the citizen who employs them and to his country, while methods like

those of Manlius are advantageous for a man’s country, though sometimes

they be hurtful to the man himself. This is well seen in the example of

Camillus, whose bearing more nearly resembled that of Manlius than that

of Valerius, so that Titus Livius, in speaking of him, says, “_His

virtues were at once hated and admired by his soldiers._” What gained

him their admiration was his care for their safety, his prudence, his

magnanimity, and the good order he maintained in conducting and

commanding them. What made him hated was his being more stern to punish

than bountiful to reward; and Livius instances the following

circumstances as giving rise to this hatred. First, his having applied

the money got by the sale of the goods of the Veientines to public

purposes, and not divided it along with the rest of the spoils. Second,

his having, on the occasion of his triumph, caused his chariot to be

drawn by four white horses, seeking in his pride, men said, to make

himself the equal of the sun god. And, third, his having vowed to

Apollo a tenth of the Veientine plunder, which, if he was to fulfil his

vow, he had to recover from his soldiers, into whose hands it had

already come.

Herein we may well and readily discern what causes tend to make a

prince hateful to his people; the chief whereof is the depriving them

of some advantage. And this is a matter of much importance. For when a

man is deprived of what is in itself useful, he never forgets it, and

every trifling occasion recalls it to his mind; and because such

occasions recur daily, he is every day reminded of his loss. Another

error which we are here taught to guard against, is the appearing

haughty and proud, than which nothing is more distasteful to a people,

and most of all to a free people; for although such pride and

haughtiness do them no hurt, they nevertheless hold in detestation any

who display these qualities. Every show of pride, therefore, a prince

should shun as he would a rock, since to invite hatred without

resulting advantage were utterly rash and futile.

CHAPTER XXIV.—_That prolonged Commands brought Rome to Servitude_.

If we well examine the course of Roman history, we shall find two

causes leading to the break-up of that republic: one, the dissensions

which arose in connection with the agrarian laws; the other, the

prolongation of commands. For had these matters been rightly understood

from the first, and due remedies applied, the freedom of Rome had been

far more lasting, and, possibly, less disturbed. And although, as

touching the prolongation of commands, we never find any tumult

breaking out in Rome on that account, we do in fact discern how much

harm was done to the city by the ascendency which certain of its

citizens thereby gained. This mischief indeed would not have arisen, if

other citizens whose period of office was extended had been as good and

wise as Lucius Quintius, whose virtue affords a notable example. For

terms of accord having been settled between the senate and commons of

Rome, the latter, thinking their tribunes well able to withstand the

ambition of the nobles, prolonged their authority for a year.

Whereupon, the senate, not to be outdone by the commons, proposed, out

of rivalry, to extend the consulship of Quintius. He, however, refused

absolutely to lend himself to their designs, and insisted on their

appointing new consuls, telling them that they should seek to discredit

evil examples, not add to them by setting worse. Had this prudence and

virtue of his been shared by all the citizens of Rome, the practice of

prolonging the terms of civil offices would not have been suffered to

establish itself, nor have led to the kindred practice of extending the

term of military commands, which in progress of time effected the ruin

of their republic.

The first military commander whose term was extended, was Publius

Philo; for when his consulship was about to expire, he being then

engaged in the siege of Palæopolis, the senate, seeing he had the

victory in his hands, would not displace him by a successor, but

appointed him _Proconsul_, which office he was the first to hold. Now,

although in thus acting the senate did what they thought best for the

public good, nevertheless it was this act of theirs that in time

brought Rome to slavery. For the further the Romans carried their arms,

the more necessary it seemed to them to grant similar extensions of

command, and the oftener they, in fact, did so. This gave rise to two

disadvantages: first that a smaller number of men were trained to

command; second, that by the long continuance of his command a captain

gained so much influence and ascendency over his soldiers that in time

they came to hold the senate of no account, and looked only to him.

This it was, that enabled Sylla and Marius to find adherents ready to

follow them even to the public detriment, and enabled Cæsar to

overthrow the liberties of his country; whereas, had the Romans never

prolonged the period of authority, whether civil or military, though

they might have taken longer to build up their empire, they certainly

had been later in incurring servitude.

CHAPTER XXV.—_Of the poverty of Cincinnatus and of many other Roman

Citizens.

Elsewhere I have shown that no ordinance is of such advantage to a

commonwealth, as one which enforces poverty on its citizens. And

although it does not appear what particular law it was that had this

operation in Rome (especially since we know the agrarian law to have

been stubbornly resisted), we find, as a fact, that four hundred years

after the city was founded, great poverty still prevailed there; and

may assume that nothing helped so much to produce this result as the

knowledge that the path to honours and preferment was closed to none,

and that merit was sought after wheresoever it was to be found; for

this manner of conferring honours made riches the less courted. In

proof whereof I shall cite one instance only.

When the consul Minutius was beset in his camp by the Equians, the

Roman people were filled with such alarm lest their army should be

destroyed, that they appointed a dictator, always their last stay in

seasons of peril. Their choice fell on Lucius Quintius Cincinnatus, who

at the time was living on his small farm of little more than four

acres, which he tilled with his own hand. The story is nobly told by

Titus Livius where he says: “_This is worth listening to by those who

contemn all things human as compared with riches, and think that glory

and excellence can have no place unless accompanied by lavish wealth._”

Cincinnatus, then, was ploughing in his little field, when there

arrived from Rome the messengers sent by the senate to tell him he had

been made dictator, and inform him of the dangers which threatened the

Republic. Putting on his gown, he hastened to Rome, and getting

together an army, marched to deliver Minutius. But when he had defeated

and spoiled the enemy, and released Minutius, he would not suffer the

army he had rescued to participate in the spoils, saying, “_I will not

have you share in the plunder of those to whom you had so nearly fallen

a prey._” Minutius he deprived of his consulship, and reduced to be a

subaltern, in which rank he bade him remain till he had learned how to

command. And before this he had made Lucius Tarquininus, although

forced by his poverty to serve on foot, his master of the knights.