finished_summaries/gradesaver/The Prince/section_5_part_4.txt
The Prince.chapter xix
chapter xix
{"name": "Chapter XIX", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210417004655/https://www.gradesaver.com/the-prince/study-guide/summary-section-6-chapters-xv-xix", "summary": "\"On Avoiding Contempt and Hatred,\" brings this line of reasoning full circle, noting off the bat that a prince should be sure not to be hated, for conspiracies fail if the prince is loved. A prince should delegate unpleasant jobs to others and keep the pleasant ones - the ones that look good - for himself. France's use of a third judicial force which was not the king's direct responsibility is an example of such a tactic", "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."}

Now, concerning the characteristics of which mention is made above, I
have spoken of the more important ones, the others I wish to discuss
briefly under this generality, that the prince must consider, as has
been in part said before, how to avoid those things which will make him
hated or contemptible; and as often as he shall have succeeded he
will have fulfilled his part, and he need not fear any danger in other
reproaches.

It makes him hated above all things, as I have said, to be rapacious,
and to be a violator of the property and women of his subjects, from
both of which he must abstain. And when neither their property nor their
honor is touched, the majority of men live content, and he has only to
contend with the ambition of a few, whom he can curb with ease in many
ways.

It makes him contemptible to be considered fickle, frivolous,
effeminate, mean-spirited, irresolute, from all of which a prince should
guard himself as from a rock; and he should endeavour to show in his
actions greatness, courage, gravity, and fortitude; and in his
private dealings with his subjects let him show that his judgments are
irrevocable, and maintain himself in such reputation that no one can
hope either to deceive him or to get round him.

That prince is highly esteemed who conveys this impression of himself,
and he who is highly esteemed is not easily conspired against; for,
provided it is well known that he is an excellent man and revered by
his people, he can only be attacked with difficulty. For this reason
a prince ought to have two fears, one from within, on account of his
subjects, the other from without, on account of external powers. From
the latter he is defended by being well armed and having good allies,
and if he is well armed he will have good friends, and affairs will
always remain quiet within when they are quiet without, unless they
should have been already disturbed by conspiracy; and even should
affairs outside be disturbed, if he has carried out his preparations and
has lived as I have said, as long as he does not despair, he will resist
every attack, as I said Nabis the Spartan did.

But concerning his subjects, when affairs outside are disturbed he has
only to fear that they will conspire secretly, from which a prince
can easily secure himself by avoiding being hated and despised, and by
keeping the people satisfied with him, which it is most necessary
for him to accomplish, as I said above at length. And one of the most
efficacious remedies that a prince can have against conspiracies is not
to be hated and despised by the people, for he who conspires against
a prince always expects to please them by his removal; but when the
conspirator can only look forward to offending them, he will not have
the courage to take such a course, for the difficulties that confront
a conspirator are infinite. And as experience shows, many have been the
conspiracies, but few have been successful; because he who conspires
cannot act alone, nor can he take a companion except from those whom he
believes to be malcontents, and as soon as you have opened your mind
to a malcontent you have given him the material with which to content
himself, for by denouncing you he can look for every advantage; so that,
seeing the gain from this course to be assured, and seeing the other
to be doubtful and full of dangers, he must be a very rare friend, or a
thoroughly obstinate enemy of the prince, to keep faith with you.

And, to reduce the matter into a small compass, I say that, on the side
of the conspirator, there is nothing but fear, jealousy, prospect of
punishment to terrify him; but on the side of the prince there is the
majesty of the principality, the laws, the protection of friends and
the state to defend him; so that, adding to all these things the
popular goodwill, it is impossible that any one should be so rash as to
conspire. For whereas in general the conspirator has to fear before the
execution of his plot, in this case he has also to fear the sequel to
the crime; because on account of it he has the people for an enemy, and
thus cannot hope for any escape.

Endless examples could be given on this subject, but I will be content
with one, brought to pass within the memory of our fathers. Messer
Annibale Bentivogli, who was prince in Bologna (grandfather of the
present Annibale), having been murdered by the Canneschi, who had
conspired against him, not one of his family survived but Messer
Giovanni,(*) who was in childhood: immediately after his assassination
the people rose and murdered all the Canneschi. This sprung from the
popular goodwill which the house of Bentivogli enjoyed in those days in
Bologna; which was so great that, although none remained there after the
death of Annibale who was able to rule the state, the Bolognese, having
information that there was one of the Bentivogli family in Florence,
who up to that time had been considered the son of a blacksmith, sent to
Florence for him and gave him the government of their city, and it was
ruled by him until Messer Giovanni came in due course to the government.

     (*) Giovanni Bentivogli, born in Bologna 1438, died at Milan
     1508. He ruled Bologna from 1462 to 1506. Machiavelli's
     strong condemnation of conspiracies may get its edge from
     his own very recent experience (February 1513), when he had
     been arrested and tortured for his alleged complicity in the
     Boscoli conspiracy.

For this reason I consider that a prince ought to reckon conspiracies
of little account when his people hold him in esteem; but when it
is hostile to him, and bears hatred towards him, he ought to fear
everything and everybody. And well-ordered states and wise princes have
taken every care not to drive the nobles to desperation, and to keep the
people satisfied and contented, for this is one of the most important
objects a prince can have.

Among the best ordered and governed kingdoms of our times is France, and
in it are found many good institutions on which depend the liberty
and security of the king; of these the first is the parliament and its
authority, because he who founded the kingdom, knowing the ambition of
the nobility and their boldness, considered that a bit to their mouths
would be necessary to hold them in; and, on the other side, knowing the
hatred of the people, founded in fear, against the nobles, he wished to
protect them, yet he was not anxious for this to be the particular care
of the king; therefore, to take away the reproach which he would be
liable to from the nobles for favouring the people, and from the people
for favouring the nobles, he set up an arbiter, who should be one who
could beat down the great and favour the lesser without reproach to the
king. Neither could you have a better or a more prudent arrangement, or
a greater source of security to the king and kingdom. From this one can
draw another important conclusion, that princes ought to leave affairs
of reproach to the management of others, and keep those of grace in
their own hands. And further, I consider that a prince ought to cherish
the nobles, but not so as to make himself hated by the people.

It may appear, perhaps, to some who have examined the lives and deaths
of the Roman emperors that many of them would be an example contrary
to my opinion, seeing that some of them lived nobly and showed great
qualities of soul, nevertheless they have lost their empire or have been
killed by subjects who have conspired against them. Wishing, therefore,
to answer these objections, I will recall the characters of some of the
emperors, and will show that the causes of their ruin were not different
to those alleged by me; at the same time I will only submit for
consideration those things that are noteworthy to him who studies the
affairs of those times.

It seems to me sufficient to take all those emperors who succeeded to
the empire from Marcus the philosopher down to Maximinus; they were
Marcus and his son Commodus, Pertinax, Julian, Severus and his son
Antoninus Caracalla, Macrinus, Heliogabalus, Alexander, and Maximinus.

There is first to note that, whereas in other principalities the
ambition of the nobles and the insolence of the people only have to be
contended with, the Roman emperors had a third difficulty in having to
put up with the cruelty and avarice of their soldiers, a matter so beset
with difficulties that it was the ruin of many; for it was a hard thing
to give satisfaction both to soldiers and people; because the people
loved peace, and for this reason they loved the unaspiring prince,
whilst the soldiers loved the warlike prince who was bold, cruel, and
rapacious, which qualities they were quite willing he should exercise
upon the people, so that they could get double pay and give vent to
their own greed and cruelty. Hence it arose that those emperors were
always overthrown who, either by birth or training, had no great
authority, and most of them, especially those who came new to the
principality, recognizing the difficulty of these two opposing humours,
were inclined to give satisfaction to the soldiers, caring little about
injuring the people. Which course was necessary, because, as princes
cannot help being hated by someone, they ought, in the first place, to
avoid being hated by every one, and when they cannot compass this, they
ought to endeavour with the utmost diligence to avoid the hatred of the
most powerful. Therefore, those emperors who through inexperience had
need of special favour adhered more readily to the soldiers than to
the people; a course which turned out advantageous to them or not,
accordingly as the prince knew how to maintain authority over them.

From these causes it arose that Marcus, Pertinax, and Alexander, being
all men of modest life, lovers of justice, enemies to cruelty, humane,
and benignant, came to a sad end except Marcus; he alone lived and died
honoured, because he had succeeded to the throne by hereditary title,
and owed nothing either to the soldiers or the people; and afterwards,
being possessed of many virtues which made him respected, he always kept
both orders in their places whilst he lived, and was neither hated nor
despised.

But Pertinax was created emperor against the wishes of the soldiers,
who, being accustomed to live licentiously under Commodus, could not
endure the honest life to which Pertinax wished to reduce them; thus,
having given cause for hatred, to which hatred there was added contempt
for his old age, he was overthrown at the very beginning of his
administration. And here it should be noted that hatred is acquired as
much by good works as by bad ones, therefore, as I said before, a prince
wishing to keep his state is very often forced to do evil; for when that
body is corrupt whom you think you have need of to maintain yourself--it
may be either the people or the soldiers or the nobles--you have to
submit to its humours and to gratify them, and then good works will do
you harm.

But let us come to Alexander, who was a man of such great goodness,
that among the other praises which are accorded him is this, that in the
fourteen years he held the empire no one was ever put to death by
him unjudged; nevertheless, being considered effeminate and a man who
allowed himself to be governed by his mother, he became despised, the
army conspired against him, and murdered him.

Turning now to the opposite characters of Commodus, Severus, Antoninus
Caracalla, and Maximinus, you will find them all cruel and rapacious-men
who, to satisfy their soldiers, did not hesitate to commit every kind of
iniquity against the people; and all, except Severus, came to a bad
end; but in Severus there was so much valour that, keeping the soldiers
friendly, although the people were oppressed by him, he reigned
successfully; for his valour made him so much admired in the sight of
the soldiers and people that the latter were kept in a way astonished
and awed and the former respectful and satisfied. And because the
actions of this man, as a new prince, were great, I wish to show
briefly that he knew well how to counterfeit the fox and the lion, which
natures, as I said above, it is necessary for a prince to imitate.

Knowing the sloth of the Emperor Julian, he persuaded the army in
Sclavonia, of which he was captain, that it would be right to go to Rome
and avenge the death of Pertinax, who had been killed by the praetorian
soldiers; and under this pretext, without appearing to aspire to the
throne, he moved the army on Rome, and reached Italy before it was known
that he had started. On his arrival at Rome, the Senate, through fear,
elected him emperor and killed Julian. After this there remained for
Severus, who wished to make himself master of the whole empire, two
difficulties; one in Asia, where Niger, head of the Asiatic army, had
caused himself to be proclaimed emperor; the other in the west where
Albinus was, who also aspired to the throne. And as he considered it
dangerous to declare himself hostile to both, he decided to attack
Niger and to deceive Albinus. To the latter he wrote that, being elected
emperor by the Senate, he was willing to share that dignity with him and
sent him the title of Caesar; and, moreover, that the Senate had made
Albinus his colleague; which things were accepted by Albinus as true.
But after Severus had conquered and killed Niger, and settled oriental
affairs, he returned to Rome and complained to the Senate that Albinus,
little recognizing the benefits that he had received from him, had
by treachery sought to murder him, and for this ingratitude he was
compelled to punish him. Afterwards he sought him out in France, and
took from him his government and life. He who will, therefore, carefully
examine the actions of this man will find him a most valiant lion and
a most cunning fox; he will find him feared and respected by every one,
and not hated by the army; and it need not be wondered at that he, a
new man, was able to hold the empire so well, because his supreme
renown always protected him from that hatred which the people might have
conceived against him for his violence.

But his son Antoninus was a most eminent man, and had very excellent
qualities, which made him admirable in the sight of the people and
acceptable to the soldiers, for he was a warlike man, most enduring
of fatigue, a despiser of all delicate food and other luxuries, which
caused him to be beloved by the armies. Nevertheless, his ferocity and
cruelties were so great and so unheard of that, after endless single
murders, he killed a large number of the people of Rome and all those of
Alexandria. He became hated by the whole world, and also feared by those
he had around him, to such an extent that he was murdered in the midst
of his army by a centurion. And here it must be noted that such-like
deaths, which are deliberately inflicted with a resolved and desperate
courage, cannot be avoided by princes, because any one who does not fear
to die can inflict them; but a prince may fear them the less because
they are very rare; he has only to be careful not to do any grave injury
to those whom he employs or has around him in the service of the state.
Antoninus had not taken this care, but had contumeliously killed a
brother of that centurion, whom also he daily threatened, yet retained
in his bodyguard; which, as it turned out, was a rash thing to do, and
proved the emperor's ruin.

But let us come to Commodus, to whom it should have been very easy to
hold the empire, for, being the son of Marcus, he had inherited it,
and he had only to follow in the footsteps of his father to please his
people and soldiers; but, being by nature cruel and brutal, he gave
himself up to amusing the soldiers and corrupting them, so that he might
indulge his rapacity upon the people; on the other hand, not maintaining
his dignity, often descending to the theatre to compete with gladiators,
and doing other vile things, little worthy of the imperial majesty, he
fell into contempt with the soldiers, and being hated by one party and
despised by the other, he was conspired against and was killed.

It remains to discuss the character of Maximinus. He was a very warlike
man, and the armies, being disgusted with the effeminacy of Alexander,
of whom I have already spoken, killed him and elected Maximinus to the
throne. This he did not possess for long, for two things made him hated
and despised; the one, his having kept sheep in Thrace, which brought
him into contempt (it being well known to all, and considered a great
indignity by every one), and the other, his having at the accession
to his dominions deferred going to Rome and taking possession of the
imperial seat; he had also gained a reputation for the utmost ferocity
by having, through his prefects in Rome and elsewhere in the empire,
practised many cruelties, so that the whole world was moved to anger
at the meanness of his birth and to fear at his barbarity. First Africa
rebelled, then the Senate with all the people of Rome, and all Italy
conspired against him, to which may be added his own army; this latter,
besieging Aquileia and meeting with difficulties in taking it, were
disgusted with his cruelties, and fearing him less when they found so
many against him, murdered him.

I do not wish to discuss Heliogabalus, Macrinus, or Julian, who, being
thoroughly contemptible, were quickly wiped out; but I will bring this
discourse to a conclusion by saying that princes in our times have this
difficulty of giving inordinate satisfaction to their soldiers in a
far less degree, because, notwithstanding one has to give them some
indulgence, that is soon done; none of these princes have armies that
are veterans in the governance and administration of provinces, as were
the armies of the Roman Empire; and whereas it was then more necessary
to give satisfaction to the soldiers than to the people, it is now more
necessary to all princes, except the Turk and the Soldan, to satisfy the
people rather the soldiers, because the people are the more powerful.

From the above I have excepted the Turk, who always keeps round him
twelve thousand infantry and fifteen thousand cavalry on which depend
the security and strength of the kingdom, and it is necessary that,
putting aside every consideration for the people, he should keep them
his friends. The kingdom of the Soldan is similar; being entirely in the
hands of soldiers, it follows again that, without regard to the people,
he must keep them his friends. But you must note that the state of the
Soldan is unlike all other principalities, for the reason that it
is like the Christian pontificate, which cannot be called either an
hereditary or a newly formed principality; because the sons of the old
prince are not the heirs, but he who is elected to that position by
those who have authority, and the sons remain only noblemen. And this
being an ancient custom, it cannot be called a new principality, because
there are none of those difficulties in it that are met with in new
ones; for although the prince is new, the constitution of the state is
old, and it is framed so as to receive him as if he were its hereditary
lord.

But returning to the subject of our discourse, I say that whoever will
consider it will acknowledge that either hatred or contempt has been
fatal to the above-named emperors, and it will be recognized also how
it happened that, a number of them acting in one way and a number
in another, only one in each way came to a happy end and the rest to
unhappy ones. Because it would have been useless and dangerous for
Pertinax and Alexander, being new princes, to imitate Marcus, who
was heir to the principality; and likewise it would have been utterly
destructive to Caracalla, Commodus, and Maximinus to have imitated
Severus, they not having sufficient valour to enable them to tread
in his footsteps. Therefore a prince, new to the principality, cannot
imitate the actions of Marcus, nor, again, is it necessary to follow
those of Severus, but he ought to take from Severus those parts which
are necessary to found his state, and from Marcus those which are proper
and glorious to keep a state that may already be stable and firm.




Chapter XIX
"On Avoiding Contempt and Hatred," brings this line of reasoning full circle, noting off the bat that a prince should be sure not to be hated, for conspiracies fail if the prince is loved. A prince should delegate unpleasant jobs to others and keep the pleasant ones - the ones that look good - for himself. France's use of a third judicial force which was not the king's direct responsibility is an example of such a tactic
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.