finished_summaries/gradesaver/The Prince/section_5_part_1.txt
The Prince.chapter xv
chapter xv
{"name": "Chapter XV", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210417004655/https://www.gradesaver.com/the-prince/study-guide/summary-section-6-chapters-xv-xix", "summary": "\"On the Reasons Why Men Are Praised or Blamed - Especially Princes,\" Machiavelli argues that a prince should be good as long as that goodness is politically useful. It is impossible for a prince to be perfect and to exercise all virtues; therefore, he should not worry about guarding against vices that will not cost him his state. He should avoid those vices that lead to the kind of disgrace that could precipitate a fall from power, but while he should try to avoid those vices that are not as damaging, if he cannot prevent them, he is allowed to indulge them", "analysis": "If The Prince is often characterized as a treatise on unscrupulous politics and a manual of ruthless power games, Chapter XV, \"On the Reasons Why Men Are Praised or Blamed - Especially Princes,\" is a particularly crucial chapter. It is here that Machiavelli directly addresses the question that has been bubbling underneath the surface of his book thus far - namely, to what extent does being good matter? Machiavelli's answer: as long as it contributes to holding onto power. The key notion here is that good is a relative concept; surface virtuosity, of the kind often showcased by rulers, is often but a disguise, and the greatest good lies in the end - the all-inclusive goal of maintaining the state and securing the reins of power. In other words, good is good insofar as it is politically expedient. The categorical crumbles in the face of efficiency, for the latter is the only true barometer. The ends justify the means, and utilitarianism  is the dominant mode of reasoning. If a prince needs to indulge a vice to save his state, so be it. \"For if you look at matters carefully,\" Machiavelli writes, \"you will see that something resembling virtue, if you follow it, may be your ruin, while something resembling vice will lead, if you follow it, to your security and well-being.\" One might compare this argument to the thrust of Chapter XIII, \"On Those Who Have Become Princes By Crime,\" which measures when and to what extent a prince's cruelty can be justified. Machiavelli is arguing something far more complex than a call to disregard morality. His example of the generous prince begins as a seemingly hard-lined argument and emerges as a humanist consideration of the faults of man. A prince should not be miserly just for the sake of it; miserliness, by resulting in the safeguarding of funds and greater financial security, winds up helping the people in quite direct ways. It is up to the prince to see beyond short-run desires and superficial appearances and to not give away money he cannot afford to spend just to put on a lovable face and to curry favor, but instead to weather the occasional criticism and plan for the future. It is all about the greater good. Machiavelli sublimates the individualistic treatment of the prince as solitary agent into a larger view of society as contingent on long-term planning and sacrifice. The Prince reads here as less a how-to for the aspiring prince than a social manifesto; Machiavelli puts faith in the people's judgment, arguing that they will come around to loving the miserly prince who saves money out of necessity. As in his earlier distinctions between the common people and the nobles, he emerges as more of a populist and democrat than popular conceptions of The Prince tend to allow for. That said, Chapter XVII, \"On Cruelty and Clemency,\" presents a thoroughly pessimistic view of humanity. Men are inherently \"rotten,\" Machiavelli argues, explaining that they are \"ungrateful, fickle, liars and deceivers, fearful of danger and greedy for gain.\" For this reason, it is safer for a prince to be feared than to be loved: \"love is link of obligation which men, because they are rotten, will break any time they think doing so serves their advantage.\" Fear, on the other hand, \"involves dread of punishment, from which they can never escape.\" As always, Machiavelli tempers what seems at first like a thoroughly cynical position, noting that moderation is the key, and that a prince should try to make himself feared in a way that does not make him hated. More specifically, he should only shed blood when he has good reason to, he should not confiscate property, and he should keep his hands off his subjects' women. Certain lines cannot be crossed. As Machiavelli writes a few pages later, a prince \"should be ready to enter on evil if he has to,\" but he must have to.  In any case, virtues are often difficult to define; they are only virtuous insofar as they help people. Virtue for its own sake can be harmful, and for a prince to possess and exercise all virtues at all times is a mistake. Appearances are a different matter: the masses are impressed by the superficial appearance of things so long as the prince's ends are achieved. It matters little, therefore, who the prince really is. Machiavelli closes Chapter XVIII with a reference that deserves mention. \"A certain prince of our own time,\" he writes, \"whom it's just as well not to name, preaches nothing but peace and mutual trust, yet he is the determined enemy of both.\" This seems to be a condemnation, but Machiavelli continues: \"if on several different occasions he had observed either, he would have lost both his reputation and his throne.\" The prince in question is Ferdinand of Spain, and the passage is something of a swipe at him. The first line suggests untempered scorn, while the second modifies this position and recasts Ferdinand as an example of how hypocrisy can be useful. These last few words are perhaps the veil Machiavelli uses to hide a more acute criticism of Ferdinand, who secured his power through often bloodthirsty tactics, expelling the Muslims and Jews from Spain, waging war, and persecuting the masses. These repellent maneuvers, Machiavelli is forced to admit, did work. We can sense here the writer having reached a sort of theoretical impasse: how to both condemn and praise? How to reconcile a need for human goodness  with the demands of power and the vicissitudes of international relations? Ferdinand provides a particularly difficult case, since Machiavelli, writing of him as a \"determined enemy\" of peace and trust, seems to disapprove of him, while his own writings provide a framework whereby Ferdinand's actions are thoroughly justifiable. What is perhaps most important is that Machiavelli faces Ferdinand head-on. Contradictions may abound as Machiavelli maps out his philosophy, but he seems to implicitly acknowledge this. The Prince is more than a simplistic argument for cold-heartedness in politics, and these chapters reflect Machiavelli's efforts to grapple with the various problems his more cynical positions engender."}

It remains now to see what ought to be the rules of conduct for a prince
towards subject and friends. And as I know that many have written on
this point, I expect I shall be considered presumptuous in mentioning it
again, especially as in discussing it I shall depart from the methods of
other people. But, it being my intention to write a thing which shall
be useful to him who apprehends it, it appears to me more appropriate to
follow up the real truth of the matter than the imagination of it; for
many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never
been known or seen, because how one lives is so far distant from how one
ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to
be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation; for a man who
wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with
what destroys him among so much that is evil.

Hence it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know
how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity.
Therefore, putting on one side imaginary things concerning a prince, and
discussing those which are real, I say that all men when they are spoken
of, and chiefly princes for being more highly placed, are remarkable
for some of those qualities which bring them either blame or praise; and
thus it is that one is reputed liberal, another miserly, using a Tuscan
term (because an avaricious person in our language is still he who
desires to possess by robbery, whilst we call one miserly who deprives
himself too much of the use of his own); one is reputed generous,
one rapacious; one cruel, one compassionate; one faithless, another
faithful; one effeminate and cowardly, another bold and brave; one
affable, another haughty; one lascivious, another chaste; one sincere,
another cunning; one hard, another easy; one grave, another frivolous;
one religious, another unbelieving, and the like. And I know that every
one will confess that it would be most praiseworthy in a prince to
exhibit all the above qualities that are considered good; but because
they can neither be entirely possessed nor observed, for human
conditions do not permit it, it is necessary for him to be sufficiently
prudent that he may know how to avoid the reproach of those vices which
would lose him his state; and also to keep himself, if it be possible,
from those which would not lose him it; but this not being possible, he
may with less hesitation abandon himself to them. And again, he need
not make himself uneasy at incurring a reproach for those vices without
which the state can only be saved with difficulty, for if everything is
considered carefully, it will be found that something which looks like
virtue, if followed, would be his ruin; whilst something else, which
looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity.




Chapter XV
"On the Reasons Why Men Are Praised or Blamed - Especially Princes," Machiavelli argues that a prince should be good as long as that goodness is politically useful. It is impossible for a prince to be perfect and to exercise all virtues; therefore, he should not worry about guarding against vices that will not cost him his state. He should avoid those vices that lead to the kind of disgrace that could precipitate a fall from power, but while he should try to avoid those vices that are not as damaging, if he cannot prevent them, he is allowed to indulge them
If The Prince is often characterized as a treatise on unscrupulous politics and a manual of ruthless power games, Chapter XV, "On the Reasons Why Men Are Praised or Blamed - Especially Princes," is a particularly crucial chapter. It is here that Machiavelli directly addresses the question that has been bubbling underneath the surface of his book thus far - namely, to what extent does being good matter? Machiavelli's answer: as long as it contributes to holding onto power. The key notion here is that good is a relative concept; surface virtuosity, of the kind often showcased by rulers, is often but a disguise, and the greatest good lies in the end - the all-inclusive goal of maintaining the state and securing the reins of power. In other words, good is good insofar as it is politically expedient. The categorical crumbles in the face of efficiency, for the latter is the only true barometer. The ends justify the means, and utilitarianism  is the dominant mode of reasoning. If a prince needs to indulge a vice to save his state, so be it. "For if you look at matters carefully," Machiavelli writes, "you will see that something resembling virtue, if you follow it, may be your ruin, while something resembling vice will lead, if you follow it, to your security and well-being." One might compare this argument to the thrust of Chapter XIII, "On Those Who Have Become Princes By Crime," which measures when and to what extent a prince's cruelty can be justified. Machiavelli is arguing something far more complex than a call to disregard morality. His example of the generous prince begins as a seemingly hard-lined argument and emerges as a humanist consideration of the faults of man. A prince should not be miserly just for the sake of it; miserliness, by resulting in the safeguarding of funds and greater financial security, winds up helping the people in quite direct ways. It is up to the prince to see beyond short-run desires and superficial appearances and to not give away money he cannot afford to spend just to put on a lovable face and to curry favor, but instead to weather the occasional criticism and plan for the future. It is all about the greater good. Machiavelli sublimates the individualistic treatment of the prince as solitary agent into a larger view of society as contingent on long-term planning and sacrifice. The Prince reads here as less a how-to for the aspiring prince than a social manifesto; Machiavelli puts faith in the people's judgment, arguing that they will come around to loving the miserly prince who saves money out of necessity. As in his earlier distinctions between the common people and the nobles, he emerges as more of a populist and democrat than popular conceptions of The Prince tend to allow for. That said, Chapter XVII, "On Cruelty and Clemency," presents a thoroughly pessimistic view of humanity. Men are inherently "rotten," Machiavelli argues, explaining that they are "ungrateful, fickle, liars and deceivers, fearful of danger and greedy for gain." For this reason, it is safer for a prince to be feared than to be loved: "love is link of obligation which men, because they are rotten, will break any time they think doing so serves their advantage." Fear, on the other hand, "involves dread of punishment, from which they can never escape." As always, Machiavelli tempers what seems at first like a thoroughly cynical position, noting that moderation is the key, and that a prince should try to make himself feared in a way that does not make him hated. More specifically, he should only shed blood when he has good reason to, he should not confiscate property, and he should keep his hands off his subjects' women. Certain lines cannot be crossed. As Machiavelli writes a few pages later, a prince "should be ready to enter on evil if he has to," but he must have to.  In any case, virtues are often difficult to define; they are only virtuous insofar as they help people. Virtue for its own sake can be harmful, and for a prince to possess and exercise all virtues at all times is a mistake. Appearances are a different matter: the masses are impressed by the superficial appearance of things so long as the prince's ends are achieved. It matters little, therefore, who the prince really is. Machiavelli closes Chapter XVIII with a reference that deserves mention. "A certain prince of our own time," he writes, "whom it's just as well not to name, preaches nothing but peace and mutual trust, yet he is the determined enemy of both." This seems to be a condemnation, but Machiavelli continues: "if on several different occasions he had observed either, he would have lost both his reputation and his throne." The prince in question is Ferdinand of Spain, and the passage is something of a swipe at him. The first line suggests untempered scorn, while the second modifies this position and recasts Ferdinand as an example of how hypocrisy can be useful. These last few words are perhaps the veil Machiavelli uses to hide a more acute criticism of Ferdinand, who secured his power through often bloodthirsty tactics, expelling the Muslims and Jews from Spain, waging war, and persecuting the masses. These repellent maneuvers, Machiavelli is forced to admit, did work. We can sense here the writer having reached a sort of theoretical impasse: how to both condemn and praise? How to reconcile a need for human goodness  with the demands of power and the vicissitudes of international relations? Ferdinand provides a particularly difficult case, since Machiavelli, writing of him as a "determined enemy" of peace and trust, seems to disapprove of him, while his own writings provide a framework whereby Ferdinand's actions are thoroughly justifiable. What is perhaps most important is that Machiavelli faces Ferdinand head-on. Contradictions may abound as Machiavelli maps out his philosophy, but he seems to implicitly acknowledge this. The Prince is more than a simplistic argument for cold-heartedness in politics, and these chapters reflect Machiavelli's efforts to grapple with the various problems his more cynical positions engender.