There is nothing more true than that all the things of this world have a limit to their existence; but those only run the entire course ordained for them by Heaven that do not allow their body to become disorganized, but keep it unchanged in the manner ordained, or if they change it, so do it that it shall be for their advantage, and not to their injury. And as I speak here of mixed bodies, such as republics or religious sects, I say that those changes are beneficial that bring them back to their original principles. And those are the best-constituted bodies, and have the longest existence, which possess the intrinsic means of frequently renewing themselves, or such as obtain this renovation in consequence of some extrinsic accidents. And it is a truth clearer than light that, without such renovation, these bodies cannot continue to exist; and the means of renewing them is to bring them back to their original principles. For, as all religious republics and monarchies must have within themselves some goodness, by means of which they obtain their first growth and reputation, and as in the process of time this goodness becomes corrupted, it will of necessity destroy the body unless something intervenes to bring it back to its normal condition. Thus, the doctors of medicine say, in speaking of the human body, that “every day some ill humors gather which must be cured.”
This return of a republic to its original principles is either the result of extrinsic accident or of intrinsic prudence. As an instance of the first, we have seen how necessary it was that Rome should be taken by the Gauls, as a means of her renovation or new birth; so that, being thus born again, she might take new life and vigor, and might resume the proper observance of justice and religion, which were becoming corrupt. This is clearly seen from the history of Livius, where he shows that, in calling out her army against the Gauls, and in the creation of Tribunes with consular powers, the Romans observed no religious ceremonies whatsoever. In the same way they not only did not deprive the three Fabii of their rank for having, “contrary to the law of nations,” fought against the Gauls, but actually raised them to the dignity of Tribunes. And we may readily presume that they made less account of the good institutions and laws established by Romulus and other wise princes, than what was reasonable and necessary to preserve their liberties. It needed, then, this blow from without to revive the observance of all the institutions of the state, and to show to the Roman people, not only the necessity of maintaining religion and justice, but also of honoring their good citizens, and making more account of their virtue than of the ease and indulgence of which their energy and valor seemed to deprive them. This admonition succeeded completely; for no sooner was Rome retaken from the Gauls than they renewed all their religious institutions, punished the Fabii for having fought the Gauls contrary to the law of nations; and then they appreciated so highly the valor and excellence of Camillus that the Senate and the other orders in the state laid aside all envy and jealousy, and confided to him all the burden of the affairs of the republic.
It is necessary then (as has been said) for men who live associated together under some kind of regulations often to be brought back to themselves, so to speak, either by external or internal occurrences. As to the latter, they are either the result of a law, that obliges the citizens of the association often to render an account of their conduct; or some man of superior character arises amongst them, whose noble example and virtuous actions will produce the same effect as such a law. This good then in a republic is due either to the excellence of some one man, or to some law; and as to the latter, the institution that brought the Roman republic back to its original principles was the creation of the Tribunes of the people, and all the other laws that tended to repress the insolence and ambition of men. But to give life and vigor to those laws requires a virtuous citizen, who will courageously aid in their execution against the power of those who transgress them.
The most striking instances of such execution of the laws, anterior to the capture of Rome by the Gauls, were the death of the sons of Brutus, that of the Decemvirs, and that of the corn-dealer, Spurius Mælius; and after the taking of Rome by the Gauls, the death of Manlius Capitolinus, that of the son of Manlius Torquatus, the punishment inflicted by Papirius Cursor upon his master of cavalry, Fabius, and the accusation of the Scipios. As these were extreme and most striking cases they caused on each occasion a return of the citizens to the original principles of the republic; and when they began to be more rare, it also began to afford men more latitude in becoming corrupt, and the execution of the laws involved more danger and disturbances. It would be desirable therefore that not more than ten years should elapse between such executions, for in the long course of time men begin to change their customs, and to transgress the laws; and unless some case occurs that recalls the punishment to their memory and revives the fear in their hearts, the delinquents will soon become so numerous that they cannot be punished without danger.
In relation to this subject it was said by the magistrates who governed Florence from the year 1434 until 1494 that it was necessary every five years to resume the government, and that otherwise it would be difficult to maintain it. By “resuming the government” they meant to strike the people with the same fear and terror as they did when they first assumed the government, and when they had inflicted the extremest punishment upon those who, according to their principles, had conducted themselves badly. But as the recollection of these punishments fades from men’s minds, they become emboldened to make new attempts against the government, and to speak ill of it, and therefore it is necessary to provide against this, by bringing the government back to its first principles. Such a return to first principles in a republic is sometimes caused by the simple virtues of one man, without depending upon any law that incites him to the infliction of extreme punishments; and yet his good example has such an influence that the good men strive to imitate him, and the wicked are ashamed to lead a life so contrary to his example. Those particularly, who in Rome effected such beneficial results were Horatius Cocles, Scævola, Fabricius, the two Decii, Regulus Attilius, and some others, who by their rare and virtuous example produced the same effect upon the Romans as laws and institutions would have done. And certainly if at least some such signal punishments as described above, or noble examples, had occurred in Rome every ten years, that city never would have become so corrupt; but as both became more rare, corruption increased more and more. In fact, after Marcus Regulus we find not a single instance of such virtuous example; and although the two Catos arose, yet there was so long an interval between Regulus and them, and between the one Cato and the other, and they were such isolated instances, that their example could effect but little good; and especially the latter Cato found the citizens of Rome already so corrupt that he utterly failed to improve them by his example. Let this suffice so far as regards republics.
Now with regard to religions we shall see that revivals are equally necessary, and the best proof of this is furnished by our own, which would have been entirely lost had it not been brought back to its pristine principles and purity by Saint Francis and Saint Dominic; for by their voluntary poverty and the example of the life of Christ, they revived the sentiment of religion in the hearts of men, where it had become almost extinct. The new orders which they established were so severe and powerful that they became the means of saving religion from being destroyed by the licentiousness of the prelates and heads of the Church. They continued themselves to live in poverty; and by means of confessions and preachings they obtained so much influence with the people, that they were able to make them understand that it was wicked even to speak ill of wicked rulers, and that it was proper to render them obedience and to leave the punishment of their errors to God. And thus these wicked rulers do as much evil as they please, because they do not fear a punishment which they do not see nor believe. This revival of religion then by Saint Francis and Saint Dominic has preserved it and maintains it to this day. Monarchies also have need of renewal, and to bring their institutions back to first principles. The kingdom of France shows us the good effects of such renewals; for this monarchy more than any other is governed by laws and ordinances. The Parliaments, and mainly that of Paris, are the conservators of these laws and institutions, which are renewed by them from time to time, by executions against some of the princes of the realm, and at times even by decisions against the king himself. And thus this kingdom has maintained itself up to the present time by its determined constancy in repressing the ambition of the nobles; for if it were to leave them unpunished, the disorders would quickly multiply, and the end would doubtless be either that the guilty could no longer be punished without danger, or that the kingdom itself would be broken up.
We may conclude, then, that nothing is more necessary for an association of men, either as a religious sect, republic, or monarchy, than to restore to it from time to time the power and reputation which it had in the beginning, and to strive to have either good laws or good men to bring about such a result, without the necessity of the intervention of any extrinsic force. For although such may at times be the best remedy, as in the case of Rome (when captured by the Gauls), yet it is so dangerous that it is in no way desirable. But to show how the actions of some men in particular made Rome great, and produced the most excellent effects in that city, I will make them the subject of the discourses of this Third Book, with which I shall close my reflections upon the first Ten Books of the history of Titus Livius. And although the actions of some of the kings were great and remarkable, yet as history treats of them very fully I shall leave them aside, and not speak of them, excepting so far as regards some things which they did for their personal advantage; and shall begin with Junius Brutus, the father of Roman liberty.
No one over displayed so much sagacity, or was esteemed so wise on account of any distinguished act, as Junius Brutus deserves to be esteemed for his simulation of folly. And although Titus Livius gives but one reason that induced him to this simulation, namely, that he might live in greater security and preserve his patrimony, yet if we well consider his conduct we are led to believe that he had another reason, which was that by thus avoiding observation he would have a better chance of destroying the kings, and of liberating his country, whenever an opportunity should offer. And that such was really his thought may be seen, first, from his interpretation of the oracle of Apollo, when he pretended to have fallen and kissed the earth, hoping thereby to propitiate the gods to his projects; and afterwards, when on the occasion of the death of Lucretia, in the midst of the father, husband, and other relatives, he was the first to pluck the dagger from her breast and to make all present swear henceforth to suffer no king to reign in Rome.
All those who are dissatisfied with their ruler should take a lesson from this example of Brutus; they should measure and weigh well their strength, and if sufficiently powerful to be able to declare themselves his enemies, and to make open war against the prince, then they should take that course as the least dangerous and most honorable. But if their condition be such that their forces do not suffice for open war against the prince, then they should seek by every art to win his friendship, and for this purpose employ all possible means, such as adopting his tastes, and taking delight in all things that give him pleasure. Such intimacy will insure you tranquillity without any danger, and enable you to share the enjoyment of the prince’s good fortune with him, and at the same time afford you every convenience for satisfying your resentment. True, some people say that one should not keep so close to princes as to be involved in their ruin, nor so far away but what in case of their ruin you might thereby advance your own fortunes. This middle course would undoubtedly be the best to pursue, but as I believe that impossible, one of the above-described modes must be adopted, – either to go away from them entirely, or to attach yourself very closely to them; and whoever attempts any other way, even though he be a personage of distinction, exposes himself to constant danger. Nor will it do for him to say, “I do not care for anything; I desire neither honor nor profit; all I want is to live quietly and without trouble,” – for such excuses would not be admitted. Men of condition cannot choose their way of living, and even if they did choose it sincerely and without ambition, they would not be believed; and were they to attempt to adhere to it, they would not be allowed to do so by others.
It is advisable then at times to feign folly, as Brutus did; and this is sufficiently done by praising, speaking, seeing, and doing things contrary to your way of thinking, and merely to please the prince. And as I have spoken of the sagacity of Brutus in recovering the liberty of Rome, let me now speak of his severity in maintaining it.
The severity of Brutus was not only useful, but necessary for the maintenance of that liberty in Rome which he had restored to her; and certainly it is one of the rarest examples within the memory of man for a father not only to sit in judgment and condemn his own sons, but actually to be present at their execution. Every student of ancient history well knows that any change of government, be it from a republic to a tyranny, or from a tyranny to a republic, must necessarily be followed by some terrible punishment of the enemies of the existing state of things. And whoever makes himself tyrant of a state and does not kill Brutus, or whoever restores liberty to a state and does not immolate his sons, will not maintain himself in his position long. Having already in another place treated this subject at length, I refer to what I have there said, and confine myself now to citing a single and most remarkable example, taken from the history of our own country. It is that of Pietro Soderini, who believed that he would be able by patience and gentleness to overcome the determination of the new sons of Brutus to return to another form of government; in which, however, he greatly deceived himself. And although his natural sagacity recognized the necessity of destroying them, and although the quality and ambition of his adversaries afforded him the opportunity, yet he had not the courage to do it. For he thought, and several times acknowledged it to his friends, that boldly to strike down his adversaries and all opposition would oblige him to assume extraordinary authority, and even legally to destroy civil equality; and that, even if he should not afterwards use this power tyrannically, this course would so alarm the masses that after his death they would never again consent to the election of another Gonfalonier for life, which he deemed essential for the strengthening and maintaining of the government. This respect for the laws was most praiseworthy and wise on the part of Soderini. Still one should never allow an evil to run on out of respect for the law, especially when the law itself might easily be destroyed by the evil; and he should have borne in mind, that as his acts and motives would have to be judged by the result, in case he had been fortunate enough to succeed and live, everybody would have attested that what he had done was for the good of his country, and not for the advancement of any ambitious purposes of his own. Moreover, he could have regulated matters so that his successors could not have employed for evil the means which he had used for beneficent purposes. But Soderini was the dupe of his opinions, not knowing that malignity is neither effaced by time, nor placated by gifts. So that by failing to imitate Brutus he lost at the same time his country, his state, and his reputation.
In the following chapter I propose to show that it is equally difficult to save a monarchy as to save a republic.
The assassination of Tarquinius Priscus by the sons of Ancus, and the death of Servius Tullus caused by Tarquinius Superbus, prove how difficult and dangerous it is to deprive any one of a kingdom and leave him his life, even though you try to conciliate him by benefits. We see how Tarquinius Priscus was deceived by the seemingly lawful possession of the sovereignty of Rome, which had been bestowed upon him by the people and confirmed by the Senate. He could not believe that resentment would so master the sons of Ancus that they would not be satisfied to submit to him, to whom all Rome yielded obedience. Servius Tullus in like manner deceived himself in supposing that he could win the sons of Tarquin with benefits. Thus the first may serve as a warning to all princes that they will never be safe so long as those live whom they have deprived of their possessions; and as to the second, it should remind every potentate that old injuries can never be cancelled by new benefits, and the less so when the benefits are small in proportion to the injury inflicted. Certainly Servius Tullus showed little sagacity when he supposed that the sons of Tarquin would remain content to be the sons-in-law of him whose kings they felt themselves entitled to be. And this desire to reign is so powerful that it not only dominates the minds of those born with the expectation of a throne, but also that of those who have no such expectations. This was well illustrated by the wife of Tarquin the younger, daughter of Servius, who, urged on by this mad desire, regardless of all filial piety, stirred up her husband to deprive her father of his life and kingdom; so much more did she value being a queen than being the daughter of a king. If, then, Tarquinius Priscus and Servius Tullus lost the kingdom from not knowing how to assure themselves of those whose thrones they had usurped, Tarquinius Superbus lost it by a disregard of the laws established by his predecessors, as we shall show in the next chapter.
Servius Tullus, having been assassinated by Tarquinius Superbus, left no heirs; so the latter could reign with entire security, not having to fear the dangers to which his predecessors had fallen victims. And although the manner in which he had obtained possession of the kingdom was irregular and odious, still, if he had conformed to the ancient institutions of the former kings, neither the Senate nor the people would ever have risen against him to deprive him of the throne. Tarquin was driven from Rome, not because his son Sextus had violated Lucretia, but because he had disregarded the laws of the kingdom and governed it tyrannically; having deprived the Senate of all authority, which he appropriated to himself, and having diverted the funds intended for the improvement of the public places and buildings, which the Senate had carried on with so much satisfaction, to the construction of his own palace, greatly to the disgust of the Senate; despoiling Rome in a short time of all the liberties which she had enjoyed under previous kings. And not content with having incurred the enmity of the Senate, he also aroused the people against himself, unlike his predecessors, by obliging them to perform all sorts of mechanical labor. So that, having disgusted all Rome by his many acts of cruelty and pride, he disposed the minds of the Romans to revolt against him on the first occasion that might offer. And if the incident of Lucretia had not occurred, some other would have produced the same effect; for had Tarquin conducted himself like the previous kings, when his son Sextus committed that crime Brutus and Collatinus would have appealed to Tarquin for vengeance against Sextus, instead of stirring up the Roman people as they did.
Princes should remember, then, that they begin to lose their state from the moment when they begin to disregard the laws and ancient customs under which the people have lived contented for a length of time. And if, having thus lost their state, they should ever become wise enough to see with what facility princes preserve their thrones who conduct themselves prudently, they would regret their loss the more, and would condemn themselves to greater punishments than that to which others have doomed them. For it is much easier to be beloved by the good than the wicked, and to obey the laws than to enforce them; and if kings desire to know what course they have to pursue to do this, they need take no other trouble than to follow the example of the lives of good rulers, such as Timoleon of Corinth, Aratus of Sicyon, and the like, whose lives they will find to have afforded as much security and satisfaction to him who ruled as to those who were governed; which should make kings desire to imitate them, as is easily done. For when men are well governed, they neither seek nor desire any other liberty; as was experienced by the two above-named princes, whom their people constrained to reign to the end of their lives, though they often wished to retire to private life.
Having discussed in the preceding chapters the evil dispositions that are apt to be stirred up against princes, and the conspiracy set on foot by the sons of Brutus against their country, and those formed against Tarquinius Priscus and Servius Tullus, it seems to me nevertheless not amiss to treat this subject at length in the following chapter, it being a matter well worthy of the attention of princes and subjects.
It seems to me proper now to treat of conspiracies, being a matter of so much danger both to princes and subjects; for history teaches us that many more princes have lost their lives and their states by conspiracies than by open war. But few can venture to make open war upon their sovereign, whilst every one may engage in conspiracies against him. On the other hand, subjects cannot undertake more perilous and foolhardy enterprises than conspiracies, which are in every respect most difficult and dangerous; and thence it is that, though so often attempted, yet they so rarely attain the desired object. And therefore, so that princes may learn to guard against such dangers, and that subjects may less rashly engage in them, and learn rather to live contentedly under such a government as Fate may have assigned to them, I shall treat the subject at length, and endeavor not to omit any point that may be useful to the one or the other. And certainly that is a golden sentence of Cornelius Tacitus, where he says “that men should honor the past and obey the present; and whilst they should desire good princes, they should bear with those they have, such as they are”; – and surely whoever acts otherwise will generally involve himself and his country in ruin.
In entering upon the subject, then, we must consider first against whom conspiracies are formed; and it will be found generally that they are made either against the country or against the prince. It is of these two kinds that I shall speak at present; for conspiracies that have for their object the surrender of any town to an enemy that besieges it, or that have some similar purpose, have already been sufficiently discussed above. In the first instance we will treat of those that are aimed against the sovereign, and examine the causes that provoke them; these are many, though one is more important than all the rest, namely, his being hated by the mass of the people. For when a prince has drawn upon himself universal hatred, it is reasonable to suppose that there are some particular individuals whom he has injured more than others, and who therefore desire to revenge themselves. This desire is increased by seeing the prince held in general aversion. A prince, then, should avoid incurring such universal hatred; and, as I have spoken elsewhere of the way to do this, I will say no more about it here. If the prince will avoid this general hatred, the particular wrongs to individuals will prove less dangerous to him; partly because men rarely attach sufficient importance to any wrong done them to expose themselves to great danger for the sake of avenging it, and partly because, even if they were so disposed and had the power to attempt it, they would be restrained by the general affection for the prince. The different wrongs which a prince can inflict upon a subject consist either in an attempt upon his possessions, his person, or his honor. In matters of personal injury, threats are worse than the execution; in fact, menaces involve the only danger, there being none in the execution, for the dead cannot avenge themselves, and in most cases the survivors allow the thought of revenge to be interred with the dead. But he who is threatened, and sees himself constrained by necessity either to dare and do or to suffer, becomes a most dangerous man to the prince, as we shall show in its proper place. Besides this kind of injury, a man’s property and honor are the points upon which he will be most keenly sensitive. A prince, then, should be most careful to avoid touching these; for he can never despoil a man so completely but what he will cherish a determined desire for revenge. As to attacking men’s honor, that of their wives is what they feel most, and after that their being themselves treated with indignity. It was an outrage of this nature that armed Pausanias against Philip of Macedon, and such indignities have caused many others to rise against their princes. In our day, Julius Belanti would not have conspired against Pandolfo, tyrant of Sienna, had it not been that the latter, having accorded him one of his daughters in marriage, afterwards took her away from him, as we shall relate in its place. The principal cause of the conspiracy of the Pazzi against the Medici was the inheritance of Giovanni Borromeo, of which they had been deprived by an order of the Medici.
There is another and still more powerful motive that makes men conspire against their princes, and that is the desire to liberate their country from the tyranny to which it has been subjected by the prince. It was this that stirred up Brutus and Cassius against Cæsar; it was this that excited others against the Falari, the Dionysii, and other usurpers. And no tyrant can secure himself against such attacks, except by voluntarily giving up his usurpation. But as none of them ever take this course, there are but few that do not come to a bad end; and thence this verse of Juvenal’s: –
“Ad generum Cereris sine cæde et vulnere pauci
Descendunt reges, et sicca morte tyranni.”
The perils incurred by conspirators are great, as I have said above, because they present themselves at every moment. There is danger in plotting and in the execution of the plot, and even after it has been carried into effect. A plot may be formed by a single individual or by many; the one cannot be called a conspiracy, but rather a determined purpose on the part of one man to assassinate the prince. In such case the first of the three dangers to which conspiracies are exposed is avoided; for the individual runs no risk before the execution of his plot, for as no one possesses his secret, there is no danger of his purpose coming to the ears of the prince. Any individual, of whatever condition, may form such a plot, be he great or small, noble or plebeian, familiar or not familiar with the prince; for every one is permitted on occasions to speak to the prince, and has thus the opportunity of satisfying his vengeance. Pausanias, of whom I have spoken elsewhere, killed Philip of Macedon as he was proceeding to the temple, surrounded by a thousand armed men, and having his son and his son-in-law on either side. But Pausanias was a noble, and well known to the prince. A poor and abject Spaniard stabbed King Ferdinand of Spain in the neck; the wound was not mortal, but it showed nevertheless that this man had the audacity as well as the opportunity of striking the prince. A Turkish Dervish drew a scymitar upon Bajazet, the father of the present Grand Turk; he did not wound him, but it shows that this man too had the audacity and the opportunity to have done it, had he so chosen. I believe it is not uncommon to find men who form such projects (the mere purpose involving neither danger nor punishment), but few carry them into effect; and of those who do, very few or none escape being killed in the execution of their designs, and therefore but few are willing to incur such certain death.
But let us leave the plots formed by single individuals, and come to conspiracies formed by a number of persons. These, I say, have generally for their originators the great men of the state, or those on terms of familiar intercourse with the prince. None other, unless they are madmen, can engage in conspiracies; for men of low condition, who are not intimate with the prince, have no chance of success, not having the necessary conveniences for the execution of their plots. In the first place, men of no position have not the means of assuring themselves of the good faith of their accomplices, as no one will engage in their plot without the hope of those advantages that prompt men to expose themselves to great dangers. And thus, so soon as they have drawn two or three others into their scheme, some one of them denounces and ruins them. But supposing even that they have the good fortune not to be betrayed, they are nevertheless exposed to so many difficulties in the execution of the plot, from being debarred free access to the prince, that it seems almost impossible for them to escape ruin in the execution. For if the great men of a state, who are in familiar intercourse with the prince, succumb under the many difficulties of which we have spoken, it is natural that these difficulties should be infinitely increased for the others. And therefore those who know themselves to be weak avoid them, for where men’s lives and fortunes are at stake they are not all insane; and when they have cause for hating a prince, they content themselves with cursing and vilifying him, and wait until some one more powerful and of higher position than themselves shall avenge them. Still, if one of this class of persons should be daring enough to attempt such an undertaking, he would merit praise rather for his intention than for his prudence.
We see, then, that conspiracies have generally been set on foot by the great, or the friends of the prince; and of these, as many have been prompted to it by an excess of benefits as by an excess of wrongs. Such was the cause of the conspiracy of Perennius against Commodus, of Plautianus against Severus, and of Sejanus against Tiberius. All these men had been so loaded with riches, honors, and dignities by their Emperors that nothing seemed wanting to complete their power and to satisfy their ambition but the Empire itself; and to obtain that they set conspiracies on foot against their masters, which all resulted, however, as their ingratitude deserved. More recently, however, we have seen the conspiracy of Jacopo Appiano succeed against Piero Gambacorte, prince of Pisa; this Jacopo owed his support, education, and reputation to Piero, and yet he deprived him of his state. The conspiracy of Coppola against Ferdinand of Aragon, in our own day, was of the same character; Coppola had attained such greatness that he seemed to lack nothing but the throne, and to obtain this he risked his life, and lost it. And certainly if any conspiracy of the great against a prince is likely to succeed, it should be one that is headed by one, so to say, almost himself a king, who can afford the conspirators every opportunity to accomplish his design; but, blinded by the ambition of dominion, they are equally blind in the conduct of the conspiracy, for if their villany were directed by prudence, they could not possibly fail of success. A prince, then, who wishes to guard against conspiracies should fear those on whom he has heaped benefits quite as much, and even more, than those whom he has wronged; for the latter lack the convenient opportunities which the former have in abundance. The intention of both is the same, for the thirst of dominion is as great as that of revenge, and even greater. A prince, therefore, should never bestow so much authority upon his friends but that there should always be a certain distance between them and himself, and that there should always be something left for them to desire; otherwise they will almost invariably become victims of their own imprudence, as happened to those whom we have mentioned above.
But to return to our subject. Having said that conspiracies are generally made by the great, who have free access to the prince, let us see now what their results have been, and what the causes were that influenced their success or their failure. As we have said above, there are in all conspiracies three distinct periods of danger. The first is in the organization of the plot, and as but few have a successful issue, it is impossible that all should pass happily through this first stage, which presents the greatest dangers; and therefore I say that it requires the extremest prudence, or great good fortune, that a conspiracy shall not be discovered in the process of formation. Their discovery is either by denunciation or by surmises. Denunciation is the consequence of treachery or of want of prudence on the part of those to whom you confide your designs; and treachery is so common that you cannot safely impart your project to any but such of your most trusted friends as are willing to risk their lives for your sake, or to such other malcontents as are equally desirous of the prince’s ruin. Of such reliable friends you may find one or two; but as you are necessarily obliged to extend your confidence, it becomes impossible to find many such, for their devotion to you must be greater than their sense of danger and fear of punishment. Moreover, men are very apt to deceive themselves as to the degree of attachment and devotion which others have for them, and there are no means of ascertaining this except by actual experience; but experience in such matters is of the utmost danger. And even if you should have tested the fidelity of your friends on other occasions of danger, yet you cannot conclude from that that they will be equally true to you on an occasion that presents infinitely greater dangers than any other. If you attempt to measure a man’s good faith by the discontent which he manifests towards the prince, you will be easily deceived, for by the very fact of communicating to him your designs, you give him the means of putting an end to his discontent; and to insure his fidelity, his hatred of the prince or your influence over him must be very great. It is thus that so many conspiracies have been revealed and crushed in their incipient stage; so that it may be regarded almost as a miracle when so important a secret is preserved by a number of conspirators for any length of time. Such however was the case in the conspiracy of Piso against Nero, and in our times that of the Pazzi against Lorenzo and Giuliano de’ Medici, of which more than fifty persons were cognizant, and which yet remained undiscovered till the moment of its execution.
Discovery from lack of prudence occurs when any one of the conspirators speaks incautiously, so that a servant or third person overhears it, as happened to the sons of Brutus, who in the arranging of their plot with the messengers of Tarquin were overheard by a slave, who denounced them. Or it may occur from thoughtlessness, when some one communicates the secret to his wife or child, or to some other indiscreet person, as was done by Dinnus, one of the conspirators with Philotas against Alexander, who confided the plot to Nicomachus, a lad of whom he was enamored, who told it to his brother Ciballinus, who at once communicated it to the king. As to discovery by conjecture, we have an instance of it in the Pisonian conspiracy against Nero. The day before he was to have killed Nero, Scevinus, one of the conspirators, made his testament; he ordered his freedman Melichius to sharpen an old, rusty poniard, enfranchised all his slaves and distributed money amongst them, and had bandages made for tying up wounds. Melichius surmised from these various acts what was going on, and denounced it to Nero. Scevinus was arrested, and with him Natales, another conspirator, with whom he had been seen to converse secretly for a length of time. As their depositions respecting that conversation did not agree, they were forced to confess the truth, and thus the conspiracy was discovered to the ruin of all that were implicated. When the number of accomplices in a conspiracy exceeds three or four, it is almost impossible for it not to be discovered, either through treason, imprudence, or carelessness. The moment more than one of the conspirators is arrested, the whole plot is discovered; for it will be impossible for any two to agree perfectly as to all their statements. If only one be arrested, and he be a man of courage and firmness, he may be able to conceal the names of his accomplices; but then the others, to remain safe, must be equally firm, and not lay themselves open to discovery by flight, for if any one of them proves wanting in courage, whether it be the one that is arrested or one of those that are at liberty, the conspiracy is sure to be discovered. Titus Livius cites a very remarkable instance that occurred in connection with the conspiracy against Hieronymus, king of Syracuse. Theodorus, one of the conspirators, having been arrested, concealed with the utmost firmness the names of the other conspirators, and charged the matter upon the friends of the king; and, on the other hand, all the other conspirators had such confidence in the courage of Theodorus, that not one of them left Syracuse, or betrayed the least sign of fear. The conduct of a conspiracy then is exposed to all such dangers before it can be carried into execution; and to avoid these perils the following remedies present themselves. The first and most certain, I should rather say the only one, is not to afford your associates in the plot any time to betray you; and therefore you should confide your project to them at the moment of its execution, and not sooner. Those who act thus are most likely to escape the first of the three dangers, and frequently also the others; and therefore have their enterprises almost always succeeded. And any man of prudence will always be able to govern himself in this wise.
I will cite two examples of this. Nelematus, unable to bear the tyranny of Aristotimus, tyrant of Epirus, assembled in his house a number of friends and relatives, and urged them to liberate their country from the yoke of the tyrant. Some of them asked for time to consider the matter, whereupon Nelematus made his slaves close the door of his house, and then said to those he had called together, “You must either go now and carry this plot into execution, or I shall hand you all over as prisoners to Aristotimus.” Moved by these words, they took the oath demanded of them, and immediately went and carried the plot of Nelematus successfully into execution. A Magian having by craft usurped the throne of Persia, and the fraud having been discovered by Ortanus, one of the grandees of the realm, he conferred with six other princes of the state as to the means of ridding themselves of this usurper. When one of them inquired as to the time when they should act, Darius, one of the six assembled by Ortanus, arose and said, “We must either go now at this very moment and carry it into execution, or I shall go and denounce you all,” whereupon they all arose, and, without affording any one time to repent, they carried their design into execution without difficulty. The Ætolians acted much in the same way in ridding themselves of Nabis, tyrant of Sparta. They sent Alexamenes, one of their citizens, with thirty horse and two hundred infantry, to Nabis, on pretence of rendering him assistance; but they gave secret instructions to Alexamenes to slay Nabis, and enjoined the others, on pain of exile, strictly and most implicitly to obey the orders of Alexamenes, who accordingly went to Sparta, and kept the secret until the moment when he succeeded in killing Nabis. In this manner then did Nelematus, Ortanus, and Alexamenes avoid the dangers that attend the conduct of conspiracies before their execution, and whoever follows their example will be equally fortunate in escaping them. And to prove that it is in the power of every one to act in the same way, I will cite the case of Piso, to which I have already referred above. Piso was a man of the highest consideration and distinction in Rome, and the familiar companion of Nero, who reposed entire confidence in him, and often went to dine with him at his villa. Piso then might have attached to himself a few men of intelligence and courage, well qualified for such an attempt as he contemplated. This would have been an easy thing to do for a man of such high position; and then, when Nero was in his gardens, he might have communicated his project to them and have stirred them by a few words to do what they would not have had time to refuse, and which could not have failed of success.
And thus, if we examine all the other instances, but few will be found where the conspirators might not have acted in the same way; but men not accustomed to the affairs of this world often commit the greatest mistakes, and especially in matters that are so much out of the ordinary course as conspiracies. One should therefore never open himself on the subject of a conspiracy except under the most pressing necessity, and only at the moment of its execution; and then only to one man, whose fidelity he has thoroughly tested for a long time, and who is animated by the same desire as himself. One such is much more easily found than many, and therefore there is much less danger in confiding your secret to him; and then, even if he were to attempt to betray you, there is some chance of your being able to defend yourself, which you cannot when there are many conspirators. I have heard many wise men say that you may talk freely with one man about everything, for unless you have committed yourself in writing the “yes” of one man is worth as much as the “no” of another; and therefore one should guard most carefully against writing, as against a dangerous rock, for nothing will convict you quicker than your own handwriting. Plautianus, wishing to have the Emperor Severus and his son Antoninus killed, committed the matter to the Tribune Saturninus; he however, instead of obeying Plautianus, resolved to betray him, and, fearing that in accusing him he would be less believed than Plautianus, he exacted from him an order in his own handwriting to attest his authority. Plautianus, blinded by his ambition, gave him such a written order, which the Tribune used to accuse and convict him. Plautianus denied his guilt with such audacity, that without this written order and other indications he never would have been convicted. You may escape, then, from the accusation of a single individual, unless you are convicted by some writing or other pledge, which you should be careful never to give. In the Pisonian conspiracy there was a woman named Epicaris, who had formerly been a mistress of Nero’s. She deemed it advisable to have amongst the conspirators the commander of a trireme, who was one of Nero’s body-guards. She communicated the plot to him, but without naming the conspirators. The commander, however, betrayed her confidence, and denounced Epicaris to Nero; but she denied it with such audacity as to confuse Nero, who did not condemn her.
There are two risks, then, in communicating a plot to any one individual: the first, lest he should denounce you voluntarily; the second, lest he should denounce you, being himself arrested on suspicion, or from some indications, and being convicted and forced to it by the torture. But there are means of escaping both these dangers: the first, by denial and by alleging personal hatred to have prompted the accusation; and the other, by denying the charge, and alleging that your accuser was constrained by the force of torture to tell lies. But the most prudent course is not to communicate the plot to any one, and to act in accordance with the above-cited examples; and if you cannot avoid drawing some one into your confidence, then to let it be not more than one, for in that case the danger is much less than if you confide in many.
Another necessity may force you to do unto the prince that which you see the prince about to do to you; the danger of which may be so pressing as not to afford you the time to provide for your own safety. Such a necessity ordinarily insures success, as the following two instances will suffice to prove. The Emperor Commodus had amongst his nearest friends and intimates Letus and Electus, two captains of the Prætorian soldiers; he also had Marcia as his favorite concubine. As these three had on several occasions reproved him for the excesses with which he had stained his own dignity and that of the Empire, he resolved to have them killed, and wrote a list of the names of Marcia, Letus, and Electus, and of some other persons, whom he wanted killed the following night. Having placed this list under his pillow, he went to the bath; a favorite child of his, who was playing in the chamber and on the bed, found this list, and on going out with it in his hand was met by Marcia, who took the list from the child. Having read it, she immediately sent for Letus and Electus, and when these three had thus become aware of the danger that threatened them, they resolved to forestall the Emperor, and without losing any time they killed Commodus the following night. The Emperor Antoninus Caracalla was with his armies in Mesopotamia, and had for his prefect Macrinus, a man more fit for civil than military matters. As is always the case with bad rulers, they are in constant fear lest others are conspiring to inflict upon them the punishment which they are conscious of deserving; thus Antoninus wrote to his friend Maternianus in Rome to consult the astrologers as to whether any one was aspiring to the Empire, and to advise him of it. Maternianus wrote back that Macrinus was thus aspiring; and this letter fell into the hands of Macrinus before it reached the Emperor. He at once directed his trusted friend, the Centurion Martialis, whose brother had been slain by Caracalla a few days before, to assassinate him, which he succeeded in doing. From this we see that the necessity which admits of no delay produces the same effect as the means employed by Nelematus in Epirus, of which I have spoken above. It also proves the truth of what I said in the beginning of this discourse, that to threaten is more dangerous for princes, and more frequently causes conspiracies, than the actual injury itself; and therefore princes should guard against indulging in menaces. For you must bind men to you by benefits, or you must make sure of them in some other way, but never reduce them to the alternative of having either to destroy you or perish themselves.
As to the dangers that occur in the execution of a conspiracy, these result either from an unexpected change in the order of proceeding, or from the lack of courage in those who are charged with the execution of the plot, or from some error on their part, owing to want of foresight in leaving some of those alive whom it was intended to have killed. There is nothing that disturbs or impedes the actions of men more than when suddenly, and without time to reflect, the order of things agreed upon has to be entirely changed. And if such a change causes embarrassment in ordinary affairs, it does so to an infinitely greater degree in war or in conspiracies; for in such matters nothing is more essential than that men should firmly set their minds on performing the part that has been assigned to them. And if men have their minds fixed for some days upon a certain order and arrangement, and this be suddenly changed, it is impossible that this should not disturb them so as to defeat the whole plot. So that it is much better to carry out any such project according to the original plan, even if it should present some inconveniences, rather than to change the order agreed upon and incur a thousand embarrassments. And this will occur, if there be not time to reorganize the project entirely; for when there is time for that, men can suit themselves to the new order of things.
The conspiracy of the Pazzi against Lorenzo and Giuliano de’ Medici is well known. These were to dine on the appointed day with the Cardinal of San Giorgio, and it was agreed amongst the conspirators to kill the Medici at this dinner. They had distributed amongst themselves the several roles, as to who was to kill them, who was to seize the palace, and who was to scour the city to rouse the people to liberty. It happened that whilst the Medici, the Pazzi, and the Cardinal were at some great solemnity in the cathedral church of Florence, it became known that Giuliano would not dine with the Cardinal on that day. Hereupon the conspirators hastily met, and resolved to do in the church what they had intended to do in the house of the Cardinal. This disarranged all their plans, for Giambattisto Montesecco refused to consent to the murder in the church, which obliged them to make an entire change and distribute the roles to different persons, who, not having time fully to prepare themselves, committed such mistakes as to cause themselves to be crushed in the execution.
Want of firmness in the execution arises either from respect, or from the innate cowardice of him who is to commit the act. Such is the majesty and reverence that ordinarily surrounds the person of a prince, that it may easily mitigate the fury of a murderer, or fill him with fear. Marius having been taken prisoner by the Minturnians, they sent a slave to kill him, who was so overcome by the presence of this great man, and by the memory of his glory, that his courage and strength failed him at the thought of killing Marius. Now if a man in chains, in prison, and overwhelmed by misfortune can still exert such an influence, how much more is to be feared from a prince who is free, and clothed in all the pomp and ornaments of royalty, and surrounded by his court? And whilst all this pomp is calculated to inspire fear, an affable and courteous reception may equally disarm you.
Some of the subjects of Sitalces, king of Thrace, conspired against him. The day for the execution of their plot being fixed, they went to the place agreed upon where the king was, but not one of them made a movement to strike him; so that they returned without having made the attempt, and without knowing what had prevented them, and reproached each other. They committed the same fault several times, so that the conspiracy was discovered, and they suffered punishment for the crime which they might have committed, but did not.
Two brothers of Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, plotted against his life, and employed for the execution of their plot one Giannes, the Duke’s almoner and musician, who several times at their request brought the Duke to them; so that they might on each occasion have killed him, but neither of them had the courage to do it. The conspiracy was discovered, and they bore the penalty of their wickedness and their imprudence. Their neglect to profit by the opportunities afforded them for the execution of their design could have arisen only from two causes; either the presence of the prince imposed upon them and filled them with fear, or they were disarmed by some act of kindness on his part. Failure in the execution of such designs results from lack of prudence or courage; men are seized by one or the other of these feelings, which confuse their brains and make them say and do things that they ought not.
And nothing can better prove the fact that men’s minds are thus seized and confounded than the fact stated by Titus Livius of Alexamenes the Ætolian, who wanted to kill Nabis of Sparta, of whom I have already spoken. When the time for the execution of his design had come, and he was about to make known to his soldiers what they would have to do, as Titus Livius says, “He collected his own spirits, which were confused by the greatness of the undertaking.” For it is impossible that one should not be confused at such a moment, even though possessed of firmness and courage, and accustomed to the use of the sword and to seeing men killed. Therefore only men experienced in such affairs should be chosen as the instruments of execution, and none other should be trusted, though they be reputed to be most courageous; for you cannot be sure of any man’s courage in great affairs, unless it has been tested by actual experience. For the confusion of the mind at the important moment may cause the sword to drop from a man’s hand, or may make him say things that will be equally ruinous.
Lucilla, the sister of the Emperor Commodus, ordered Quintianus to kill him. He lay in wait for Commodus at the entrance of the amphitheatre; and on stepping up to him with drawn dagger, he cried, “The Senate sends you this!” which caused Quintianus to be arrested before he had time to strike Commodus. Messer Antonio da Volterra, having been appointed to kill Lorenzo de’ Medici, as we have related above, called out, on approaching him, “Ah, traitor!” This mere word saved Lorenzo and defeated the attempt.
Conspiracies against single individuals are generally apt to fail, for the reasons I have adduced; but when undertaken against two or more persons, they fail much easier. Such conspiracies present so many difficulties that it is almost impossible they should succeed. In fact, to strike two blows of this kind at the same instant and in different places is impracticable, and to attempt to do so at different moments of time would certainly result in the one’s preventing the other. So that, if it is imprudent, rash, and doubtful to conspire against a single prince, it amounts to folly to do so against two at the same time. And were it not for the respect which I have for the historian, I should not be able to believe possible what Herodianus relates of Plautianus, when he charged the centurion Saturninus by himself to kill Severus and Caracalla, who lived separately in different places; for it is so far from being reasonable, that nothing less than the authority of Herodianus could make me believe it. Some young men of Athens conspired against Diocles and Hippias, tyrants of Athens; they succeeded in killing Diocles, but missed Hippias, who avenged him. Chion and Leonidas, of Heraclea, disciples of Plato, conspired against the tyrants Clearchus and Satirus; they slew Clearchus, but Satirus, who remained, avenged him. The Pazzi, whom I have mentioned several times, succeeded only in killing Giuliano. Thus conspiracies against several persons at the same time should be avoided; they do no good to the conspirators, nor to the country, nor to any one, but rather cause the tyrants that survive to become more cruel and insupportable than before, as was the case with those of Florence, Athens, and Heraclea, already mentioned above. It is true that the conspiracy of Pelopidas to deliver his country, Thebes, from her tyrants, succeeded most happily, despite of all those obstacles; and he conspired not only against two, but against ten tyrants, and, so far from having ready access to them, he had been declared a rebel and had been banished. With all this, he was enabled to come to Thebes to slay the tyrants and free his country. But he succeeded thus mainly through the assistance of a certain Charon, privy counsellor of the tyrants, who facilitated his access to them and the consequent execution of his plot. Let no one, however, be seduced by this example; for it was an almost impossible enterprise, and its success was a marvel, and was so regarded by the historians, who speak of it as a most extraordinary and unprecedented event. The execution of such a plot may be interrupted by the least false alarm, or by some unforeseen accident at the moment of its execution.
The morning of the day when Brutus and his fellow-conspirators intended to kill Cæsar, it happened that the latter had a long conversation with Cn. Popilius Lena, one of the conspirators. This was observed by the other conspirators, who at once imagined that Popilius had denounced the conspiracy to Cæsar, and were tempted to assassinate Cæsar on the spot, and not to wait until he should reach the Senate; and they would have done so, had they not observed that after the conversation Cæsar made no extraordinary movement, which reassured them. These false apprehensions are not to be disregarded and should be carefully considered, the more so as it is very easy to be surprised by them; for a man who has a guilty conscience readily thinks that everybody is speaking of him. You may overhear a word spoken to some one else that will greatly disturb you, because you think it has reference to you, and may cause you either to discover the conspiracy by flight, or embarrass its execution by hastening it before the appointed time. And this will happen the more easily the more accomplices there are in the conspiracy.
As to the unforeseen accidents, of course no idea can be given of them; they can only be illustrated by examples that should serve as a caution. Julio Belanti of Sienna (of whom I have already made mention) hated Pandolfo for having taken his daughter away from him after having first given her to him as his wife. He resolved to kill him, and thus chose his time. Pandolfo went almost daily to visit a sick relative, and in going there he passed before Julio’s house, who, having observed it, arranged to have the conspirators there to assassinate Pandolfo when he passed. He concealed them, well armed, behind the house door, whilst one of them was stationed at the window to watch for the coming of Pandolfo, and to give a signal when he should be near the door. Pandolfo came, and the signal was given by the conspirator at the window; but at that moment a friend met and stopped Pandolfo, whilst some who were with him moved on, and, upon hearing the noise of arms within the door of Julio, they discovered the ambush, so that Pandolfo was enabled to save himself, and Julio, with his accomplices, was obliged to fly from Sienna. This accidental meeting with a friend prevented the execution of the plot, and thwarted the designs of Julio. Such accidents, being rare, cannot be foreseen nor prevented; though one should endeavor to foresee all that can happen, so as to guard against it.
It only remains for us now to speak of the dangers that follow the execution of a plot; of which there is really but one, namely, when some one is left who will avenge the prince that is killed. He may have brothers or sons, or other relatives, who inherit the principality, and who have been spared by your negligence or for some of the reasons we have mentioned above, and who will avenge the prince. This happened to Giovan Andrea da Lampognano, who, together with other conspirators, had killed the Duke of Milan, who left a son and two brothers, who in time avenged the murdered Duke. But truly in such cases the conspirators are not to be blamed, because there is no help for it. There is no excuse for them, however, when from want of foresight or negligence they permit any one to escape. Some conspirators of Furli killed the Count Girolamo, their lord, and took his wife and children, who were of tender age, prisoners. Believing, however, that they could not be secure if they did not obtain possession of the castle, which the castellan refused to surrender, the Lady Catharine, as the Countess was called, promised to the conspirators to procure its surrender if they would allow her to enter it, leaving them her children as hostages. Upon this pledge the conspirators consented to let her enter the castle; but no sooner was she within than she reproached them for the murder of the Count, and threatened them with every kind of vengeance. And to prove to them that she cared not for her children, she pointed to her sexual parts, calling out to them that she had wherewith to have more children. Thus the conspirators discovered their error too late, and suffered the penalty of their imprudence in perpetual exile. But of all the perils that follow the execution of a conspiracy, none is more certain and none more to be feared than the attachment of the people to the prince that has been killed. There is no remedy against this, for the conspirators can never secure themselves against a whole people. As an instance of this, I will cite the case of Julius Cæsar, who, being beloved by the people, was avenged by them; for having driven the conspirators from Rome, they were the cause of their being all killed at various times and places.
Conspiracies against the state are less dangerous for those engaged in them than plots against the life of the sovereign. In their conduct there is not so much danger, in their execution there is the same, and after execution there is none. In the conduct of the plot the danger is very slight, for a citizen may aspire to supreme power without manifesting his intentions to any one; and if nothing interferes with his plans, he may carry them through successfully, or if they are thwarted by some law, he may await a more favorable moment, and attempt it by another way. This is understood to apply to a republic that is already partially corrupted; for in one not yet tainted by corruption such thoughts could never enter the mind of any citizen. Citizens of a republic, then, may by a variety of ways and means aspire to sovereign authority without incurring great risks. If republics are slower than princes, they are also less suspicious, and therefore less cautious; and if they show more respect to their great citizens, these in turn are thereby made more daring and audacious in conspiring against them.
Everybody has read the account written by Sallust of the conspiracy of Catiline, and knows that, after it was discovered, Catiline not only stayed in Rome, but actually went to the Senate, and said insulting things to the Senate and the Consul; so great was the respect in which Rome held the citizens. And even after his departure from Rome, and when he was already with the army, Lentulus and the others would not have been seized if letters in their own handwriting had not been found, which manifestly convicted them. Hanno, one of the most powerful citizens of Carthage, aspired to the tyranny of the state, and arranged to poison the whole Senate on the occasion of his daughter’s marriage, and then to make himself sovereign. When this plot was discovered, the Senate did nothing more than to pass a decree limiting the expense of feasts and weddings; such was the respect which the Carthaginians had for so great a citizen as Hanno.
It is true that in the execution of a conspiracy against one’s country there are greater difficulties and dangers to surmount. For it is very rare that the forces of a conspirator suffice against so many; and it is not every one that controls an army, like Cæsar, or Agathocles, or Cleomenes, and the like, who by a single blow made themselves masters of their country. For such men the execution is sure and easy, but others who have not the support of such forces must employ deceit and cunning, or foreign aid.
As to the employment of deceit and cunning, I give the following instances. Pisistratus, after the victory which he had gained over the people of Megara, was greatly beloved by the people of Athens. One morning he went forth from his house wounded, and charged the nobility with having attacked him from jealousy, and demanded permission to keep a guard of armed followers for his protection, which was accorded him. This first step enabled him easily to attain such power that he soon after made himself tyrant of Athens. Pandolfo Petrucci returned with other exiles to Sienna, where he was appointed to the command of the guard of the government palace, a subordinate employ which others had refused. Nevertheless, this command gave him in time such influence and authority that in a little while he became prince of the state. Many others have employed similar means, and have in a short time, and without danger, acquired sovereign power. Those who have conspired against their country with their own forces, or by the aid of foreign troops, have had various success, according to their fortune. Catiline, whose conspiracy we have already spoken of, succumbed. Hanno, whom we have also mentioned, having failed in his attempt with poison, armed his partisans to the number of many thousands, and perished with them. Some of the first citizens of Thebes, wishing to obtain absolute control of the state, called to their aid a Spartan army, and seized the government. Thus, if we examine all the conspiracies attempted by men against their country, we find none, or but very few, that have failed in their conduct; but in their execution they have either met with success or failure. Once, however, carried into effect, they involve no other dangers but such as are inherent to absolute power; for he who has become a tyrant is exposed only to the natural and ordinary dangers which tyranny carries with it, and against which there are no other remedies than those indicated above.
Those are the considerations that have presented themselves to me in treating the subject of conspiracies; and if I have noted only those where the sword is the instrument employed, and not poison, it is because the course of both is absolutely the same. It is true that the latter are in proportion more dangerous, as their success is more uncertain, for it is not every one that has the means of employing poison; it must, therefore, be intrusted to such as have, and that very necessity causes the dangers. Furthermore, many reasons may prevent a poison from proving mortal, as in the case of Commodus. Those who had conspired against him, seeing that he would not take the poisoned draught they had offered to him, and yet being resolved upon his death, were obliged to strangle him.
There is, then, no greater misfortune for a prince than that a conspiracy should be formed against him; for it either causes his death, or it dishonors him. If the conspiracy succeeds, he dies; if it be discovered, and he punishes the conspirators with death, it will always be believed that it was an invention of the prince to satisfy his cruelty and avarice with the blood and possessions of those whom he had put to death. I will, therefore, not omit offering an advice to princes or republics against whom conspiracies may have been formed. If they discover that a conspiracy exists against them, they must, before punishing its authors, endeavor carefully to know its nature and extent, – to weigh and measure well the means of the conspirators, and their own strength. And if they find it powerful and alarming, they must not expose it until they have provided themselves with sufficient force to crush it, as otherwise they will only hasten their own destruction. They should therefore try to simulate ignorance of it, for if the conspirators should find themselves discovered, they will be forced by necessity to act without consideration. As an instance of this, we have the case of the Romans, who had left two legions at Capua to protect its inhabitants against the Samnites. The commanders of these legions (as we have related elsewhere) conspired to make themselves masters of the city. When this became known at Rome, the new Consul Rutilius was directed to see to its being prevented; and by way of lulling the conspirators into security, he published that the Senate had resolved to continue the legions in garrison at Capua. The captains and soldiers, believing this, and thinking, therefore, that they had ample time for the execution of their design, made no attempt to hasten it, and thus waited until they perceived that the Consul was separating them from each other. This excited their suspicions, and caused them to expose their intentions, and to proceed to the execution of their plot. There could not be a more forcible example than this for both parties; for it shows how dilatory men are when they think that they have time enough, and, on the other hand, how prompt they are in action when impelled by necessity. A prince or a republic who, for their own advantage, wish to defer the disclosure of a conspiracy, cannot use a more effectual means for that purpose than artfully to hold out to the conspirators the prospect of an early and favorable opportunity for action; so that, whilst waiting for that, or persuaded that they have ample time, the prince or republic will themselves gain time to overwhelm the conspirators. Those who act differently will accelerate their own ruin, as was the case with the Duke of Athens and Guglielmo de’ Pazzi. The Duke, having become tyrant of Florence, and being apprised that there was a conspiracy on foot against him, had one of the conspirators seized without further inquiry into the matter. This caused the others at once to take to arms, and to wrest the government from him. Guglielmo de’Pazzi was commissary in the Val de Chiano in the year 1501. Having heard that a conspiracy had been organized in Arezzo in favor of the Vitelli, for the purpose of taking that place from the Florentines, he immediately went there, and without considering the strength of the conspirators or measuring his own, and wholly without any preparation, he had one of the conspirators seized by the advice of his son, the Bishop of Arezzo. Hereupon the others immediately took to arms, declared the independence of Arezzo, and made Guglielmo prisoner.
But when conspiracies are feeble, they can and ought to be crushed as promptly as possible; in such case, however, the two instances we shall quote, and which are almost the direct opposites of each other, should not in any way be imitated. The one is that of the above-named Duke of Athens, who, to prove his confidence in the attachment of the Florentines to him, had the man who denounced the conspiracy to him put to death. The other is that of Dion of Syracuse, who by way of testing the fidelity of some one whom he suspected ordered Callippus, in whom he had entire confidence, to pretend to be conspiring against him. Both, however, ended badly; the first discouraged the accusers, and encouraged those who were disposed to conspire; and the other paved the way for his own destruction, and was, as it were, the chief of the conspiracy against himself, as was proved by experience, for Callippus, being able to conspire with impunity against Dion, plotted so well that he deprived him of his state and his life.
The question may suggest itself to some persons why it is that, in the many changes that carry a state from freedom to tyranny, and from servitude to liberty, some are effected by bloodshed, and others without any. In fact, history shows that in such changes sometimes an infinite number of lives are sacrificed; whilst at other times it has not cost the life of a single person. Such was the revolution in Rome which transferred the government from the kings to the consuls, where only the Tarquins were expelled, and no one else suffered injury. This depends upon whether the state that changes its form of government does so by violence, or not. When effected by violence the change will naturally inflict suffering upon many; these in turn will desire to revenge themselves, and from this desire of revenge results the shedding of blood. But when such a change is effected by the general consent of the citizens, who have made the state great, then there is no reason why the people should wish to harm any one but the chiefs of the state. Such was the case with the government of the kings in Rome, and the expulsion of the Tarquins; and such was that of the Medici in Florence, whose ruin and expulsion in the year 1494 involved none but themselves. Such revolutions are very rarely dangerous. But those that are effected by men from motives of revenge are most dangerous, and have ever been of a nature to make us tremble with fear and horror in reading of them. History is so full of these that I will not dilate upon them here.
We have already shown that an evil-disposed citizen cannot effect any changes for the worse in a republic, unless it be already corrupt. Besides the reasons elsewhere given, this conclusion is confirmed by the examples of Spurius Cassius and Manlius Capitolinus. This Spurius, being an ambitious man and wishing to obtain the supreme power in Rome, endeavored to gain the favor of the people by numerous benefits, such as the selling to them the lands taken from the Hernicians. This opened the eyes of the Senate to his ambitious projects, and he became suspected, even by the people, to that point, that when he offered them the proceeds of the sale of the grain which the government had caused to be brought from Sicily, the people refused it altogether; for it seemed to them as though Spurius offered it as the price of their liberty. But if this people had been corrupt, they would, so far from refusing this offer, have accepted it, and thus have opened the way for Spurius to the tyranny which now they closed against him.
The example of Manlius is even more forcible, and proves how this evil ambition to rule cancels the noblest qualities of mind and body, and the most important services rendered to a state. We see that this ambition had its origin with Manlius in his jealousy of the honors bestowed upon Camillus; and so blinded was he by it, that, regardless of the manners and customs of Rome, and without examining the condition of the state, which was not yet prepared to accept a vicious form of government, he set to work to stir up disturbances in Rome against the Senate and the institutions of his country. Here we recognize the perfection of the constitution of Rome, and the excellent character of its population; for on the occasion of the fall of Manlius, not one of the nobility (so ardent generally in their mutual support and defence) made the slightest effort in his favor; nor did any of his relatives make any attempt to support him. And whilst the families of others accused were in the habit of showing themselves near them, all covered with dust and in deep mourning and sadness, for the purpose of exciting the commiseration of the people for the accused, not one of the family of Manlius appeared near him. The Tribunes of the people, so accustomed always to favor every measure that seemed for the advantage of the people, and the more so in proportion as it was adverse to the interests of the nobility, in this instance united with the nobles for the purpose of suppressing a common enemy. And finally the people of Rome, ever most jealous of its own interests, and eagerly in favor of everything that was adverse to the nobles, had at first shown themselves well disposed towards Manlius; but the moment the Tribunes summoned him and brought his case before them, the same people, having now from defenders become judges, condemned him, without regard to his former services, to suffer the death penalty. I therefore think that there is no fact in history that more effectually shows the excellence of the Roman constitution than this example, where not a single person of the whole city stirred to defend a citizen gifted with the best qualities, and who had rendered the most signal services to the public, as well as to private individuals. For the love of country had more power over them than any other sentiment; and they thought so much more of its present dangers, to which the ambition of Manlius exposed them, than of his past services, that they saw no other way of relieving themselves of those dangers than by his death. And Titus Livius says: “Thus ended the career of this man, who would have been memorable had he not been born in a free community.”
This brings us to two important considerations: the first, that the means of attaining glory are different in a republic that is corrupt from what they are in a republic that still preserves its institutions pure; and the second, (which is in a measure comprised in the first,) that men in their conduct, and especially in their most prominent actions, should well consider and conform to the times in which they live. And those who, from an evil choice or from natural inclination, do not conform to the times in which they live, will in most instances live unhappily, and their undertakings will come to a bad end; whilst, on the contrary, success attends those who conform to the times. And doubtless we may conclude from the words of our historian that, if Manlius had been born in the times of Marius and Sylla, when the people were already corrupt, and when he could have moulded them according to his ambition, he would have achieved the same results and successes as Marius and Sylla, and the others who after them aspired to the tyranny. And in the same way, if Sylla and Marius had lived in the times of Manlius, they would have been crushed in their first attempt. For a man may well by his conduct and evil ways begin to corrupt a people, but it is impossible for him to live long enough to enjoy the fruits of it. And even if it were possible that by length of time he should succeed, the natural impatience of the people, which cannot brook delay in the indulgence of their passion, would prove an obstacle to his success, so that by too much haste, or from error, he would be led to engage in his attempt at the wrong time, and thus end in failure.
To usurp supreme and absolute authority, then, in a free state, and subject it to tyranny, the people must have already become corrupt by gradual steps from generation to generation. And all states necessarily come to this, unless (as we have shown above) they are frequently reinvigorated by good examples, and brought back by good laws to their first principles. Manlius thus would have been regarded as a rare and memorable man if he had lived in a corrupt republic. And therefore all such as desire to make a change in the government of a republic, whether in favor of liberty or in favor of tyranny, must well examine the condition of things, and from that judge of the difficulties of their undertaking. For it is as difficult to make a people free that is resolved to live in servitude, as it is to subject a people to servitude that is determined to be free. Having argued above that in any such attempts men should well consider the state of the times and govern themselves accordingly, I will develop this subject more fully in the next chapter.
I have often reflected that the causes of the success or failure of men depend upon their manner of suiting their conduct to the times. We see one man proceed in his actions with passion and impetuosity; and as in both the one and the other case men are apt to exceed the proper limits, not being able always to observe the just middle course, they are apt to err in both. But he errs least and will be most favored by fortune who suits his proceedings to the times, as I have said above, and always follows the impulses of his nature. Every one knows how Fabius Maximus conducted the war against Hannibal with extreme caution and circumspection, and with an utter absence of all impetuosity or Roman audacity. It was his good fortune that this mode of proceeding accorded perfectly with the times and circumstances. For Hannibal had arrived in Rome whilst still young and with his fortunes fresh; he had already twice routed the Romans, so that the republic was as it were deprived of her best troops, and greatly discouraged by her reverses. Rome could not therefore have been more favored by fortune, than to have a commander who by his extreme caution and the slowness of his movements kept the enemy at bay. At the same time, Fabius could not have found circumstances more favorable for his character and genius, to which fact he was indebted for his success and glory. And that this mode of proceeding was the result of his character and nature, and not a matter of choice, was shown on the occasion when Scipio wanted to take the same troops to Africa for the purpose of promptly terminating the war. Fabius most earnestly opposed this, like a man incapable of breaking from his accustomed ways and habits; so that, if he had been master, Hannibal would have remained in Italy, because Fabius failed to perceive that the times were changed. But Rome was a republic that produced citizens of various character and dispositions, such as Fabius, who was excellent at the time when it was desirable to protract the war, and Scipio, when it became necessary to terminate it. It is this which assures to republics greater vitality and more enduring success than monarchies have; for the diversity of the genius of her citizens enables the republic better to accommodate herself to the changes of the times than can be done by a prince. For any man accustomed to a certain mode of proceeding will never change it, as we have said, and consequently when time and circumstances change, so that his ways are no longer in harmony with them, he must of necessity succumb. Pietro Soderini, whom we have mentioned several times already, was in all his actions governed by humanity and patience. He and his country prospered so long as the times favored this mode of proceeding; but when afterwards circumstances arose that demanded a course of conduct the opposite to that of patience and humanity, he was unfit for the occasion, and his own and his country’s ruin were the consequence. Pope Julius II. acted throughout the whole period of his pontificate with the impetuosity and passion natural to his character; and as the times and circumstances well accorded with this, he was successful in all his undertakings. But if the times had changed so that different counsels would have been required, he would unquestionably have been ruined, for he could not have changed his character or mode of action.
That we cannot thus change at will is due to two causes; the one is the impossibility of resisting the natural bent of our characters; and the other is the difficulty of persuading ourselves, after having been accustomed to success by a certain mode of proceeding, that any other can succeed as well. It is this that causes the varying success of a man; for the times change, but he does not change his mode of proceeding. The ruin of states is caused in like manner, as we have fully shown above, because they do not modify their institutions to suit the changes of the times. And such changes are more difficult and tardy in republics; for necessarily circumstances will occur that will unsettle the whole state, and when the change of proceeding of one man will not suffice for the occasion.
Having made mention of Fabius Maximus, and the manner in which he held Hannibal at bay, it seems to me opportune in the next chapter to examine the question whether a general who is resolved anyhow to give battle to the enemy can be prevented by the latter from doing so.
“Cneius Sulpitius, appointed Dictator against the Gauls, protracted the war by refusing to commit himself to the fortunes of battle against an enemy whose position was being daily made worse by time and the disadvantages of the country.” When an error is very generally adopted, I believe it to be advantageous often to refute it; and therefore, although I have already several times pointed out how much we differ in our important actions from the ancients, yet it seems to me not superfluous once more to repeat it here. It is especially in matters relating to the art of war that we deviate from the practice of the ancients, for in this respect we do not observe any of the principles that were so much esteemed by them. And this defect arises from this, that the republics and princes of the present day abandon the charge of their armies to others, so as to avoid themselves the cares and dangers attending it. And if we nevertheless occasionally see a king in our times march in person with his army, it must not be supposed that he will introduce a more laudable system; for even if he does expose himself to the fatigue, it is for the sake of pomp only, and not from any praiseworthy motive. And yet these princes in only occasionally showing themselves with their armies, whilst reserving to themselves the title of commander, are less in fault than republics, and most especially those of Italy. These, trusting entirely to others, understand themselves nothing of what pertains to war, and yet wish to decide upon everything, so as to preserve at least the appearance of sovereignty, and in their decisions they commit a thousand errors. And although I have already elsewhere spoken of some, yet I will not refrain here from referring to one of the most important instances.
When these indolent princes or effeminate republics send a general with an army into the field, the wisest order they think they can give him is never to risk a battle, and above all things to avoid a general action. In this they think they imitate the salutary prudence of Fabius Maximus, who by delaying battle saved the Roman republic; but they do not understand that in most cases such a commission is either impracticable or dangerous. For we must hold it as a principle that a general who wishes to keep the field cannot avoid a battle when the enemy is determined upon fighting. And thus such orders are as much as to say to him, “Give battle at your enemy’s convenience, but not at your own.” To keep the field and yet to avoid a battle there is no other safe way than to keep at least fifty thousand men at a good distance from the enemy, and to keep good watch so that in case of his approach you may have time to retreat farther. Another way is to shut yourself up in a city. But both the one and the other of these courses are replete with danger. In the first case you leave the country open to be pillaged by the enemy; and certainly a brave prince would prefer the fortune of battle rather than to prolong the war with such damage to his people. The second plan will manifestly ruin you; for if you shut yourself up with your army in a city you will be besieged, and in a short time hunger will compel you to surrender. Therefore, to avoid battle by either of these means is equally dangerous. The course taken by Fabius in occupying naturally strong positions is good when you have an army so formidable that the enemy dares not attack you. Nor can it be said that Fabius sought to avoid a battle; all he wanted was to fight when it should be to his advantage. In fact, if Hannibal had attacked him, Fabius would have met and fought him; but Hannibal never dared to offer him battle in the manner that suited Fabius. Thus the one and the other equally avoided a combat; but if either one of them had been resolved to bring it on anyhow, the other would have had but three ways of avoiding it, – the two we have just mentioned, or flight.
A thousand examples attest the truth of what I have advanced, and especially the war which the Romans carried on against Philip of Macedon, father of Perseus. Philip, attacked by the Romans, wished to avoid the combat, and for this purpose, in imitation of Fabius Maximus in Italy, posted himself with his army on the summit of a mountain, where he strongly fortified himself, judging that the Romans would never venture to come and attack him there. But they did attack and drive him from that position, and forced him to fly with the greater part of his troops. And what saved him from being entirely cut to pieces was the irregularity of the country, which prevented the Romans from pursuing him. Philip then resolved not to fight, but, being posted near the Romans, was obliged to fly; and having learnt by this experience that keeping on the heights did not avail him in his wish to avoid a battle, and unwilling to shut himself up in a city, he resolved to adopt the other plan of keeping at many miles’ distance from the Roman camp. Thus, when they marched into one province he moved off to another, and whenever the Romans left one country he entered it. But finding in the end that the prolonging of the war by these means only made his condition worse, and that his own subjects were by turns oppressed by the enemy and by himself, he resolved to try the chance of combat, and thus came to a regular battle with the Romans.
It is advantageous, then, not to fight when your army is in the condition of that of Fabius, or that of Cn. Sulpicius; that is to say, when you have so formidable an army that the enemy dares not come to attack you in your intrenchments; or that he is upon your territory without having gained a foothold, so that he suffers from want of provisions. In such cases it is a wise course to follow, for the reason given by Titus Livius; namely, “It is well for a general not to risk the chance of battle with an enemy whose position is daily made worse by time and the disadvantages of the country.” But in any other case a battle cannot be avoided without dishonor and danger; for to fly like Philip is the same as being defeated, and is the more humiliating the less proof you have given of your courage. And if Philip succeeded in saving himself by flight, another, unless equally favored by the country, will fail. No one will pretend to say that Hannibal was not a master in the art of war; and if, when he was opposed to Scipio in Africa, he had found it to his advantage to prolong the war, he certainly would have done so. And perhaps, being a good general, and having a good army, he might have done as Fabius did in Italy; but as he did not do so we must suppose that he was influenced by important considerations. But a prince who has an army composed of various materials, and finds that from want of money or friendly support he can no longer keep his army together, must be utterly demented if he does not take his chance of battle before his army shall have fallen to pieces; for by waiting he is sure to lose, but by trying a battle he may possibly be victorious. Another point deserving consideration is, that even in losing a battle a commander should at least endeavor to save his glory; and surely there is more glory in being overcome by force than in losing from any other cause. It was this consideration that must have influenced Hannibal. Scipio, on the other hand, even if Hannibal had wished to protract the war and had lacked the courage to attack him in his strongholds, was not suffering any privations, for he had already defeated Syphax, and had made himself master of so great a part of Africa that he could have held his ground there with as much security and convenience as in Italy. Such was not the position of Hannibal when opposed to Fabius, nor of the Gauls when they were opposed to Sulpicius. Still less can a general avoid coming to battle when he attempts to penetrate with his army into the interior of the enemy’s country; if the enemy opposes him he will be obliged to fight, and still more will he be obliged to give battle if he should attempt to besiege a town. This happened in our day to Charles, Duke of Burgundy, who, having pitched his camp before Morat, a town belonging to the Swiss, was attacked and routed by them. The same thing occurred to the French army when encamped before Novara, where they were equally defeated by the Swiss.
The power of the Tribunes of the people in Rome was very great, as has already been said several times, but it was necessary to restrain the ambition of the nobles, who would otherwise have corrupted the republic much more than it was already. Nevertheless, as all human institutions (as has been observed elsewhere) contain some inherent evil that gives rise to unforeseen accidents, it becomes necessary to provide against these by new measures. The Tribunes had become insolent and formidable to the nobility and to all Rome, and would have become dangerous to the liberties of the republic had not Appius Claudius pointed out the way for the Romans to protect themselves against the ambition of the Tribunes. As there was always to be found amongst them some one more easily intimidated or corrupted than the others, or some lover of the public good, Claudius advised that they should oppose such a one to his colleagues whenever these wanted to pass any act contrary to the wishes of the Senate. This expedient tempered the formidable authority of the Tribunes, and for a long while proved most advantageous to Rome; and it has caused me to reflect that the presumption of success should always be in favor of a single power contending against a combination, however superior in numbers and power. For independent of the infinity of circumstances of which an individual can take advantage better than a combination of many, the former will always have the opportunity, with a little address, to create divisions between the latter, and thus to weaken any powerful combination. I will not adduce here any examples of antiquity, of which there are many, but will confine myself to instances of our own times only. In the year 1484 all Italy leagued together against the Venetians; who, after losing everything, and being unable to keep the field any longer, succeeded in corrupting Ludovico Sforza, governor of Milan, and concluded a treaty with him by which they not only recovered all the territory they had lost, but actually seized a portion of the principality of Ferrara. And thus, although they had been losers in war, yet they proved to be gainers in peace. A few years since a general league was formed against France, but before the termination of the war Spain broke from the league, and made terms with France, so that the other confederates were soon afterwards constrained also to come to terms with her. We may therefore with reasonable certainty presume that when a number of princes combine to make war upon a single one, the latter will triumph over the combination, provided he has courage and strength enough to resist the first shock and bide events by temporizing. But if he cannot do this, he is exposed to a thousand dangers, as was the case with the Venetians in 1508. If at that time they could have held their own against the French army until they could gain over some of those who had combined against them, they would have escaped the disasters by which they were overwhelmed. But being without an army that could temporarily hold the French in check, and thus having no time to detach any one power from the league, they were crushed. In fact, we see that the Pope, after having recovered what belonged to him, became their friend; and so did Spain; and both of these powers would gladly have saved to the Venetians their possessions in Lombardy if they could have done it, so as to prevent France from becoming so powerful in Italy. The Venetians might, by sacrificing a part, have saved the rest; this would have been a wise course for them to pursue, provided they had done so before seeming to be forced to it by necessity; but after the war was actually begun, such a course would have been disgraceful, and probably of little advantage. Before the war only a few of the citizens of Venice could discern the danger, still fewer perceived the remedy, and none advised it. But to return to what I said at the beginning of this discourse, I conclude that, as the Roman Senate found the means for saving the country from the ambition of the Tribunes, who were many, so will any one prince find a remedy, when assailed by many enemies, provided he has wisdom and skill, by suitable means, to create such misunderstandings between them as will cause their disunion.
We have already pointed out the advantage of necessity in human actions, and to what glorious achievements it has given rise. Some moral philosophers have even maintained that without it neither the hand nor the tongue of man, the two noblest instruments of his glory, would have served his purpose perfectly, nor carried human works to that height of perfection which they have attained. The ancient commanders of armies, who well knew the powerful influence of necessity, and how it inspired the soldiers with the most desperate courage, neglected nothing to subject their men to such a pressure, whilst, on the other hand, they employed every device that ingenuity could suggest to relieve the enemy’s troops from the necessity of fighting. Thus they often opened the way for the enemy to retreat, which they might easily have barred; and closed it to their own soldiers for whom they could with ease have kept it open. Whoever then desires that a city should make an obstinate resistance, or that an army should fight with determination in the field, should above all things endeavor to inspire them with the conviction of the necessity for their utmost efforts. A skilful general, then, who has to besiege a city, can judge of the difficulties of its capture by knowing and considering to what extent the inhabitants are under the necessity of defending themselves. If he finds that to be very urgent, then he may deem his task in proportion difficult; but if the motive for resistance is feeble, then he may count upon an easy victory. Thence it comes that it is more difficult to reduce a country to subjection that has revolted, than it was to conquer it originally. For not having given any special offence before the conquest that would cause them to fear punishment, they yield easily; but having offended by the rebellion and fearing the penalty, they defend themselves with great obstinacy.
Such a determined resistance may also be caused by the natural hatred between neighboring princes and republics, which arises from rivalry and the thirst of dominion. The case of Tuscany proves that this is especially the case with republics. This spirit of rivalry and contention will ever make it difficult for republics to subjugate each other. Whoever, therefore, carefully examines the character of the neighboring powers of the republics of Florence and of Venice will not wonder, as many do, that Florence has expended more money and made fewer conquests than Venice. This is due to the fact that the Venetians have had to do with neighbors less obstinate in defence than those with whom Florence has had to contend, the cities in the vicinity of Venice being accustomed to live under the domination of princes, and not as free states; for those who live in servitude are indifferent to a change of masters, in fact in most cases they rather desire it. So that Venice (although she has had more powerful neighbors than Florence) found these neighboring cities less obstinate in defence than Florence, which is entirely surrounded by free states.
To return to my subject, then, I say that a captain who besieges a city should strive by every means in his power to relieve the besieged of the pressure of necessity, and thus diminish the obstinacy of their defence. He should promise them a full pardon if they fear punishment, and if they are apprehensive for their liberties he should assure them that he is not the enemy of the public good, but only of a few ambitious persons in the city who oppose it. Such a course will often facilitate the siege and capture of cities. Artifices of this kind are quickly appreciated by the wise, but the people are generally deceived by them. Blinded by their eager desire for present peace, they do not see the snares that are concealed under these liberal promises, and thus many cities have fallen into servitude. This was the case with Florence in our immediate times, and in ancient times with Crassus and his army. Crassus well knew that the promises of the Parthians were not to be trusted, and that they were made merely for the purpose of removing from the minds of the Roman soldiers the impression of the necessity of defending themselves. Yet so blinded were these by the offers of peace that had been made by the enemy, that Crassus could not induce them to make a vigorous resistance.
The Samnites, instigated by the ambition of a few, disregarded their treaties with the Romans; and made incursions upon and pillaged the territory of some of the Roman allies. After that, they sent ambassadors to Rome to ask for peace, offering restitution of what they had plundered, and to deliver up the authors of the disorders and the pillage. Their proposition was rejected by the Romans, and the ambassadors returned to Samnium hopeless of any accommodation. Thereupon Claudius Pontius, at that time commander of the Samnite army, pointed out to them in a remarkable speech that the Romans were resolved upon war under any circumstances, and that, although they themselves desired peace, yet they were thus forced to accept the war, adding these words: “War is just for those who are forced to it by necessity, and Heaven favors those who have no hope but in their arms.” It was upon this necessity that he based his hope of victory with his soldiers.
And not to be obliged to return to this subject, I think it well here to cite the most noteworthy examples from Roman history that illustrate my proposition. C. Manilius had led his army against the Veientes, and, a part of the troops of the latter having forced a passage into his intrenchments, Manilius rushed with a detachment to the support of his men, and closed up all the issues of his camp, so that the Veientes could not escape. Finding themselves thus shut in, they began to combat with such desperate fury that they killed Manilius, and would have destroyed the rest of the Roman army if one of the Tribunes had not the sagacity to open a way for them to escape. This shows that the Veientes, when constrained by necessity, fought with the most desperate valor; but when they saw the way open for their escape, they thought more of saving themselves than of fighting. The Volscians and Equeans having entered with their troops upon Roman territory, the Romans sent two Consuls with armies against them. Becoming engaged in battle, the Volscian army under command of Vettius Messius suddenly found itself shut in between their own intrenchments, which were occupied by the Romans, and the other Roman army. And seeing that they would have to perish or cut their way out with the sword, Messius addressed his soldiers in the following words: “Follow me! You have no walls nor ditches to encounter, but only men armed like yourselves. Equals in valor, you have the advantage of necessity, that last and most powerful of weapons!” It is thus that Titus Livius styles necessity “the last and most powerful weapon.” Camillus, the most experienced of the Roman generals, had penetrated with his army into the city of Veii, for the purpose of facilitating its capture; and to deprive the enemy of the extreme necessity of defending himself, he ordered his soldiers, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the Veientes, not to harm those that should be disarmed. This caused the latter to lay down their arms, and the city was taken almost without bloodshed. This example was afterwards imitated by several other generals.
Coriolanus, having been exiled from Rome, went to the Volscians, where he formed an army with which he returned to Rome to revenge himself upon his countrymen. But he soon withdrew again, influenced more by his affection for his mother than by the forces of the Romans. On this occasion Titus Livius says: “It became evident that the Roman republic was more indebted for her aggrandizement to the merit of her generals than to that of their armies, seeing that the Volscians had until then always been defeated, and that they became victorious only when led by Coriolanus.” And although Livius advances this opinion, yet we find many instances in history where the soldiers, deprived of their captains, have given wonderful proofs of valor, and displayed more order and intrepidity after the death of their Consuls than before. It was thus with the army which the Romans had in Spain under the Scipios, which, after the loss of both its commanders, not only saved itself by its bravery, but actually defeated the enemy, and saved that province to the republic. So that on the whole we shall find many instances of battles won solely by the valor of the soldiers, and many others where the same result was achieved by the courage of the general alone. So that we may conclude that they are equally dependent one upon the other.
It may be well here to consider which of the two is most to be feared, a good army badly commanded, or a good commander with a bad army. According to the judgment of Cæsar, neither one nor the other is worth much; for when he went into Spain against Afranius and Petreius, who had a good army under their orders, he said that he cared little about that, “as he was marching against an army without a chief,” meaning thereby the weakness of the commanders. And, on the other hand, when he went into Thessaly against Pompey, he said “that he was marching against a leader without an army.” We may consider here also another matter, namely, whether it be easier for a good captain to form a good army, or for a good army to form a good captain. Upon this point I say that the question would seem to be decided, inasmuch as it is much easier for the many who have merit to find or instruct one to be equally good, than for the one to form the many. Lucullus was wholly inexperienced in war when he was sent against Mithridates; nevertheless, being placed at the head of a good army that had already very superior officers, he soon became a good commander. The Romans, being in want of men, armed a number of slaves and gave them to Sempronius Gracchus to be trained, who in a brief time made a good army of them. After Pelopidas and Epaminondas had delivered their country, Thebes, from the yoke of the Spartans, they made in a very short time the best kind of soldiers out of the Theban peasants; so that they were not only able to sustain the shock of the Spartan troops, but actually to defeat them. Thus the matter is about even; for if either one of the two, the army or the commander, be good, they will be apt to make the other good likewise. But a good army without an able commander often becomes insolent and dangerous, as was the case with the Macedonian army after the death of Alexander, and with the veteran troops in the civil wars of Rome. And therefore I am disposed to believe that you can more safely rely upon a competent general, who has the time to instruct his men and the facilities for arming them, than upon an insolent army with a chief tumultuously chosen by them. Those generals, therefore, deserve double praise and glory who not only had to conquer, but had actually to form and train their troops before meeting the enemy. For in this they have shown that twofold merit the union of which is so rare that many commanders, if they had been obliged to perform the same task, would not have obtained that celebrity which they have achieved.
We have numerous instances of the important effect produced by some unforeseen incident caused by something new that is seen or heard in the midst of a conflict or heat of battle. One of the most striking examples of this occurred in the battle between the Romans and the Volscians, when Quintius saw one wing of his army give way, and cried out to them in a loud voice to stand firm, as the other wing was victorious. These words reanimated the courage of his soldiers, and caused dismay amongst those of the enemy, so that Quintius carried off the victory. And if such a cry can produce such an effect in a well-disciplined army, its influence is infinitely greater upon a tumultuous and undisciplined body, who are all moved by similar impulses. I will adduce a notable example of this, which occurred in our own times. A few years ago the city of Perugia was divided into two factions, the Oddi and the Baglioni. The latter held the government and had exiled the former, who, with the aid of their friends, gathered an army, and established themselves at a convenient place near Perugia. One night they entered the city by the aid of their partisans, and, without being perceived, succeeded in making themselves masters of the public square. As the streets were all barred with chains, they had a man precede them with an iron club to break the fastenings of these chains, so that horses might be able to pass. Only one more that closed the public square remained to be broken, and already the cry of “To arms!” had been raised in the city. Closely pressed by those that followed him, the man who was charged to break the chains, unable to raise his arms for the purpose, called out to those pressing upon him to fall back. This cry of “Fall back!” taken up from rank to rank, caused the hindmost to fly; the others, one by one, followed them with such a rush that it ended in a complete rout. And thus by this slight accident the whole project of the Oddi was thwarted. This shows the necessity of discipline in an army, not only to make them combat with order, but also to prevent any slight accident from creating confusion. And it is just for this reason that an undisciplined multitude is useless in war; for the least unexpected noise or word will throw them into confusion, and make them take to flight. And a good commander should therefore, amongst his other regulations, specially appoint persons to receive his orders and transmit them to the others; and he should accustom his soldiers not to listen to any but their regular officers, and direct the officers to give no orders but such as emanate from the commander. The non-observance of this rule has often caused the greatest misfortunes.
As to new stratagems, when the armies are engaged in conflict, every captain should endeavor to invent such as will encourage his own troops and dishearten those of the enemy. This is one of the most efficacious means of achieving victory. In proof of which I will cite the example of the Roman Dictator C. Sulpicius, who, being about to come to battle with the Gauls, armed all the teamsters and camp-followers, and mounted them upon the mules and other beasts of burden, and supplied them with standards, so as to seem like regular cavalry. These he placed behind a hill, with orders to show themselves to the enemy at a given signal during the heat of battle. This artifice, being carried out as ordered, so alarmed the Gauls as to cause them to lose the day. A good general, then, has to do two things; the one, to try by novel stratagems to create alarm amongst the enemy; and the other, to be on his guard to discover those that the enemy may attempt to practise upon him, and to render them fruitless. It was thus that the Indian king acted against Semiramis. This queen, seeing that the king had a great many elephants, tried to frighten him by showing him that she had quite as many. She therefore ordered a number of sham elephants made of the hides of buffaloes and cows, which she had placed upon camels and sent to the front. But the stratagem was discovered by the king, and proved, not only useless, but damaging to Semiramis. The Dictator Mamercus was carrying on the war against the Fidenati. These, for the purpose of frightening the Roman army, caused, in the midst of an action, a number of soldiers to issue forth from the city with burning torches at the end of their lances, hoping that the Roman soldiers, struck by the novelty of the thing, might break their ranks, and thus create confusion. Here it is well to observe that such artifices may safely and with advantage be employed when they have more the appearance of reality than of fiction; for then their seeming strength will prevent the prompt discovery of their weakness. But when they are manifestly rather fictitious than real, they should either not be employed, or they should be kept at such a distance that their real character cannot be so quickly discovered, as Sulpicius did with his muleteers. Otherwise, when too near, their real weakness will be quickly discovered, and then they do more harm than good, as was the case with the sham elephants of Semiramis, and the torches of the Fidenati. For although these did at the first moment somewhat disturb the Roman soldiers, yet when the Dictator discovered it he called out to them to be ashamed to fly from the smoke like insects. “Return to the combat,” he shouted to them, “and with their own torches burn their city of Fidena, which your benefits could not placate.” Thus was the artifice of the Fidenati rendered futile, and the battle won by the Romans.
The Fidenati, having revolted, massacred the colony which the Romans had established at Fidena. To avenge this outrage the Romans appointed four Tribunes with consular powers, one of whom remained to guard Rome, while the other three were sent against the Fidenati and Veientes. These three Tribunes gained nothing but dishonor in this expedition, in consequence of the dissensions that had arisen between them. For this dishonor they were themselves alone responsible; and it was only the valor of their soldiers that saved them from experiencing a serious check. The Romans, having perceived the cause of this disorder, resorted to the creation of a Dictator; so that one man might restore that order which the three Tribunes had destroyed. Thence we may see the uselessness of several commanders in one army, or in a city that is besieged. And Titus Livius could not more forcibly illustrate this than when he says: “Three Tribunes with consular powers proved how useless it is to confide the command of an army to several chiefs; for each one holding opinions of his own, which the others would not adopt, they afforded the enemy the opportunity to take advantage of their dissensions.” And although this example proves sufficiently the disadvantages resulting from a plurality of commanders for an army in time of war, yet by way of still further elucidating this truth, I will cite one or two other instances of both ancient and modern times. When Louis XII., king of France, had retaken Milan in the year 1500, he sent his troops to Pisa, with orders to restore that city to the Florentines; whereupon the government of Florence sent there as commissioners Giovanbattista Ridolfi and Luca d’Antonio degli Albizzi. As Giovanbattista enjoyed a great reputation, and was the older of the two, Luca left the entire management of affairs to him; and although he did not exhibit his ambition by opposing him, yet he manifested it by his silence and by the indifference and contempt with which he treated everything that was done, so that, neither aiding in the actions in the field nor in council, one would have supposed him to be a man destitute of all ability. But he soon proved the very opposite, when, in consequence of something that had occurred, Giovanbattista was obliged to return to Florence. Then Luca, remaining in sole command, displayed his worth by his great valor, skill, and wisdom; all of which were lost so long as he had a colleague who shared in the command. I will quote once more, in confirmation of what I have advanced, the authority of Titus Livius. This historian, referring to the circumstance that the Romans had sent Quintius and Agrippa against the Equeans, adds, that the latter begged his colleague to take upon himself the sole conduct of the war, saying to him, “In important affairs it is necessary for success that the principal authority should reside in one man only.” This is just the contrary of what is done by our princes and republics of the present day; who confide to several commissaries and chiefs the administration of places subject to them, which creates an inconceivable confusion. And if we seek for the causes of the reverses experienced by the Italian and French armies in our times, we shall find that to have been the most powerful of all the causes. So that we may truly conclude that it is better to confide any expedition to a single man of ordinary ability, rather than to two, even though they are men of the highest merit, and both having equal authority.
It ever has been, and ever will be the case, that men of rare and extraordinary merit are neglected by republics in times of peace and tranquillity; for jealous of the reputation which such men have acquired by their virtues, there are always in such times many other citizens, who want to be, not only their equals, but their superiors. The Greek historian Thucydides gives the following striking instance of this. The Athenian republic, having obtained the advantage in the Peloponnesian war, having checked the pride of the Spartans and subjected almost all Greece to their rule, acquired such reputation that she conceived the project of conquering Sicily. This enterprise was much debated in Athens. Alcibiades and some other citizens, thinking more of the honor they could gain by it than of the public good, were much in favor of it, and hoped that the direction of it would be intrusted to them. But Nicias, one of the most influential citizens of Athens, opposed it, and the principal reason which he adduced against it, when addressing the people (who had faith in him), was this: that in advising them against this war he counselled them to what was against his own interest, for he well knew that so long as Athens remained at peace there were many citizens who wanted to take precedence of him; but he also knew that there was not a citizen who would pretend to show himself his superior, or even his equal, in time of war. Thus showing that it is the common fault of republics in tranquil times to make small account of men of merit. And it is a twofold cause of indignation for such men to see themselves deprived of the rank to which they are entitled, and to be associated with, and often even subordinated to unworthy men, who are their inferiors in capacity. This defect in republics has often caused great evils; for those citizens who feel themselves so unjustly depreciated, and knowing it to be the result of the peace and tranquillity which the state enjoys, will stir up troubles and kindle fresh wars to the detriment of the republic.
In reflecting upon the means for remedying this evil, I believe I have found two. The first is to keep the citizens poor, so that their wealth and lack of virtue may neither corrupt themselves nor enable them to corrupt others; and the second, so to organize for war as to be ever prepared for it, and always to have need of men of merit and reputation, as Rome did in her early days. For as this city always kept armies in the field, there was constant opportunity for the employment of men of ability; nor could rank be withheld from a man who deserved it, neither could it be bestowed upon another who did not merit it. And if, notwithstanding this, it was at times done, either by mistake or by way of trial, it caused at once such disorders and dangers that they quickly returned to the regular course. But other republics, which are not constituted like Rome, and who engage in war only when compelled by necessity, cannot avoid this inconvenience, but are rather constantly led into it. And this will always produce evil consequences whenever the meritorious citizen, who has thus been neglected, is disposed to be vindictive, and has influence and partisans in the city. Rome avoided this evil practice for a time; but after she had conquered Carthage and Antiochus, (as we have said elsewhere,) and no longer fearing other wars, she also seems to have confided the conduct of her armies indifferently to whoever aspired to it, looking less to the merits and ability of the man than to such other qualifications as assured him favor with the people. For we see that the consulate was several times refused to Paulus Æmilius, and that he obtained it only when the war with the Macedonians occurred, which being deemed perilous, the command of the army was by general consent committed to him.
When after the year 1490 the city of Florence was involved in many wars, and her citizens had given but indifferent proof of their ability, the city by chance found a man who showed himself capable of commanding her armies. This was Antonio Giacomini; and so long as Florence had difficult wars on hand, all the ambition of her citizens ceased, and Antonio had no competitors for the part of commissary and chief of the army. But when there was a war that presented no dangers, and promised only honors and credit, then there were so many applicants that, in the appointment of three commissaries for the conduct of the siege of Pisa, Antonio was left out. And although the injury that resulted to the state from not having sent Antonio was not evident to all, yet it could most easily be conjectured. For Pisa, being destitute of munitions and provisions, would quickly have been forced to surrender at discretion to the Florentines, if Antonio had been in command. But the siege, being conducted by wholly incompetent men, was protracted to that degree that the Florentines had to resort to the purchase of the city, which they might otherwise have taken by force. Such an indignity might well have had an effect upon Antonio, and he must have been very good and forbearing not to have desired to revenge himself for it, either by the ruin of the state (which he could have occasioned) or by the destruction of some of his particular rivals. A republic should guard against similar dangers, as we will show more fully in the following chapter.
A republic should take great care not to intrust with an important administration one who has been gravely offended. Claudius Nero, who left the army with which he was confronting Hannibal, and, taking a portion of the same, went with it into La Marca to meet the other Consul, in order to engage Asdrubal before he could form a junction with Hannibal, found himself in front of Asdrubal, and surrounded him with his forces in a place where he had to fight at a disadvantage or die of starvation; but he was so craftily entertained by Asdrubal with propositions of an agreement, as to enable him to make his escape and defeat Nero’s opportunity of crushing him. This becoming known in Rome, the Senate and people deemed it a grievous blunder, making him the constant topic of conversation about the city, to his great disgrace and shame. But afterwards becoming Consul and being sent against Hannibal he acted in the manner above indicated, which involved such great danger that all Rome was troubled and in doubt until the news came of Asdrubal’s rout. Claudius, being subsequently interrogated as to the reasons for taking so dangerous a course, by which without extreme necessity he had jeoparded the liberty of Rome, answered that he did so, knowing that if successful he should regain the glory lost in Spain; and if unsuccessful, and his plan should have an adverse issue, he would be revenged on that city and those citizens who had so ungratefully and indiscreetly offended him. And if such an affront could rouse to such passion a citizen of Rome in those days when Rome was yet incorrupt, we can imagine what might be done by a citizen of a city in a condition unlike that of Rome at that time. Hence, no adequate remedies existing for similar disorders arising in republics, it follows that it is impossible to establish a perpetual republic, because in a thousand unforeseen ways its ruin may be accomplished.
Epaminondas the Theban said that nothing was more necessary and useful for a general than to know the intentions and projects of the enemy. And the more difficult it is to acquire such knowledge, the more praise he deserves who succeeds in conjecturing it correctly. Nor is it as difficult to understand the designs of the enemy as it is at times to comprehend his actions; and often it is less difficult to appreciate what he is doing at a distance, than what he does at the moment and near by. For it has happened many a time that, when a battle has lasted until nightfall, the victor thinks himself beaten, and the defeated imagines himself to have been victorious. Such errors have caused men to resolve upon acts that proved their ruin; as happened to Brutus and Cassius, the latter of whom perished in consequence of just such an error. For although the wing commanded by Brutus had been victorious, yet Cassius thought that it had been defeated, and that consequently the whole army was beaten; so that, despairing of his safety, he killed himself. We have an instance almost of the same kind in our own times, in the