All states, all powers, that have held and hold rule over men have been
and are either republics or principalities.

Principalities are either hereditary, in which the family has been long
established; or they are new.

The new are either entirely new, as was Milan to Francesco Sforza, or
they are, as it were, members annexed to the hereditary state of the
prince who has acquired them, as was the kingdom of Naples to that of
the King of Spain.

Such dominions thus acquired are either accustomed to live under a
prince, or to live in freedom; and are acquired either by the arms of
the prince himself, or of others, or else by fortune or by ability.

I will leave out all discussion on republics, inasmuch as in another
place I have written of them at length, and will address myself only to
principalities. In doing so I will keep to the order indicated above,
and discuss how such principalities are to be ruled and preserved.

I say at once there are fewer difficulties in holding hereditary states,
and those long accustomed to the family of their prince, than new
ones; for it is sufficient only not to transgress the customs of his
ancestors, and to deal prudently with circumstances as they arise, for a
prince of average powers to maintain himself in his state, unless he
be deprived of it by some extraordinary and excessive force; and if he
should be so deprived of it, whenever anything sinister happens to the
usurper, he will regain it.

We have in Italy, for example, the Duke of Ferrara, who could not have
withstood the attacks of the Venetians in '84, nor those of Pope Julius
in '10, unless he had been long established in his dominions. For the
hereditary prince has less cause and less necessity to offend; hence it
happens that he will be more loved; and unless extraordinary vices cause
him to be hated, it is reasonable to expect that his subjects will be
naturally well disposed towards him; and in the antiquity and duration
of his rule the memories and motives that make for change are lost, for
one change always leaves the toothing for another.

But the difficulties occur in a new principality. And firstly, if it be
not entirely new, but is, as it were, a member of a state which, taken
collectively, may be called composite, the changes arise chiefly from
an inherent difficulty which there is in all new principalities; for
men change their rulers willingly, hoping to better themselves, and this
hope induces them to take up arms against him who rules: wherein they
are deceived, because they afterwards find by experience they have
gone from bad to worse. This follows also on another natural and common
necessity, which always causes a new prince to burden those who have
submitted to him with his soldiery and with infinite other hardships
which he must put upon his new acquisition.

In this way you have enemies in all those whom you have injured in
seizing that principality, and you are not able to keep those friends
who put you there because of your not being able to satisfy them in the
way they expected, and you cannot take strong measures against them,
feeling bound to them. For, although one may be very strong in armed
forces, yet in entering a province one has always need of the goodwill
of the natives.

For these reasons Louis the Twelfth, King of France, quickly occupied
Milan, and as quickly lost it; and to turn him out the first time it
only needed Lodovico's own forces; because those who had opened the
gates to him, finding themselves deceived in their hopes of future
benefit, would not endure the ill-treatment of the new prince. It is
very true that, after acquiring rebellious provinces a second time,
they are not so lightly lost afterwards, because the prince, with
little reluctance, takes the opportunity of the rebellion to punish the
delinquents, to clear out the suspects, and to strengthen himself in the
weakest places. Thus to cause France to lose Milan the first time it was
enough for the Duke Lodovico(*) to raise insurrections on the borders;
but to cause him to lose it a second time it was necessary to bring
the whole world against him, and that his armies should be defeated and
driven out of Italy; which followed from the causes above mentioned.

     (*) Duke Lodovico was Lodovico Moro, a son of Francesco
     Sforza, who married Beatrice d'Este. He ruled over Milan
     from 1494 to 1500, and died in 1510.

Nevertheless Milan was taken from France both the first and the second
time. The general reasons for the first have been discussed; it remains
to name those for the second, and to see what resources he had, and what
any one in his situation would have had for maintaining himself more
securely in his acquisition than did the King of France.

Now I say that those dominions which, when acquired, are added to an
ancient state by him who acquires them, are either of the same country
and language, or they are not. When they are, it is easier to hold them,
especially when they have not been accustomed to self-government; and
to hold them securely it is enough to have destroyed the family of the
prince who was ruling them; because the two peoples, preserving in other
things the old conditions, and not being unlike in customs, will live
quietly together, as one has seen in Brittany, Burgundy, Gascony, and
Normandy, which have been bound to France for so long a time: and,
although there may be some difference in language, nevertheless the
customs are alike, and the people will easily be able to get on amongst
themselves. He who has annexed them, if he wishes to hold them, has only
to bear in mind two considerations: the one, that the family of their
former lord is extinguished; the other, that neither their laws nor
their taxes are altered, so that in a very short time they will become
entirely one body with the old principality.

But when states are acquired in a country differing in language,
customs, or laws, there are difficulties, and good fortune and great
energy are needed to hold them, and one of the greatest and most real
helps would be that he who has acquired them should go and reside there.
This would make his position more secure and durable, as it has made
that of the Turk in Greece, who, notwithstanding all the other measures
taken by him for holding that state, if he had not settled there, would
not have been able to keep it. Because, if one is on the spot, disorders
are seen as they spring up, and one can quickly remedy them; but if one
is not at hand, they are heard of only when they are great, and then one
can no longer remedy them. Besides this, the country is not pillaged
by your officials; the subjects are satisfied by prompt recourse to the
prince; thus, wishing to be good, they have more cause to love him, and
wishing to be otherwise, to fear him. He who would attack that state
from the outside must have the utmost caution; as long as the prince
resides there it can only be wrested from him with the greatest
difficulty.

The other and better course is to send colonies to one or two places,
which may be as keys to that state, for it is necessary either to do
this or else to keep there a great number of cavalry and infantry. A
prince does not spend much on colonies, for with little or no expense he
can send them out and keep them there, and he offends a minority only of
the citizens from whom he takes lands and houses to give them to the new
inhabitants; and those whom he offends, remaining poor and scattered,
are never able to injure him; whilst the rest being uninjured are easily
kept quiet, and at the same time are anxious not to err for fear it
should happen to them as it has to those who have been despoiled. In
conclusion, I say that these colonies are not costly, they are more
faithful, they injure less, and the injured, as has been said, being
poor and scattered, cannot hurt. Upon this, one has to remark that men
ought either to be well treated or crushed, because they can avenge
themselves of lighter injuries, of more serious ones they cannot;
therefore the injury that is to be done to a man ought to be of such a
kind that one does not stand in fear of revenge.

But in maintaining armed men there in place of colonies one spends much
more, having to consume on the garrison all the income from the
state, so that the acquisition turns into a loss, and many more are
exasperated, because the whole state is injured; through the shifting
of the garrison up and down all become acquainted with hardship, and
all become hostile, and they are enemies who, whilst beaten on their
own ground, are yet able to do hurt. For every reason, therefore, such
guards are as useless as a colony is useful.

Again, the prince who holds a country differing in the above respects
ought to make himself the head and defender of his less powerful
neighbours, and to weaken the more powerful amongst them, taking care
that no foreigner as powerful as himself shall, by any accident, get
a footing there; for it will always happen that such a one will be
introduced by those who are discontented, either through excess of
ambition or through fear, as one has seen already. The Romans were
brought into Greece by the Aetolians; and in every other country where
they obtained a footing they were brought in by the inhabitants. And the
usual course of affairs is that, as soon as a powerful foreigner enters
a country, all the subject states are drawn to him, moved by the hatred
which they feel against the ruling power. So that in respect to those
subject states he has not to take any trouble to gain them over to
himself, for the whole of them quickly rally to the state which he has
acquired there. He has only to take care that they do not get hold of
too much power and too much authority, and then with his own forces, and
with their goodwill, he can easily keep down the more powerful of them,
so as to remain entirely master in the country. And he who does not
properly manage this business will soon lose what he has acquired, and
whilst he does hold it he will have endless difficulties and troubles.

The Romans, in the countries which they annexed, observed closely these
measures; they sent colonies and maintained friendly relations with(*)
the minor powers, without increasing their strength; they kept down the
greater, and did not allow any strong foreign powers to gain authority.
Greece appears to me sufficient for an example. The Achaeans and
Aetolians were kept friendly by them, the kingdom of Macedonia was
humbled, Antiochus was driven out; yet the merits of the Achaeans and
Aetolians never secured for them permission to increase their power, nor
did the persuasions of Philip ever induce the Romans to be his friends
without first humbling him, nor did the influence of Antiochus make them
agree that he should retain any lordship over the country. Because the
Romans did in these instances what all prudent princes ought to do,
who have to regard not only present troubles, but also future ones, for
which they must prepare with every energy, because, when foreseen, it is
easy to remedy them; but if you wait until they approach, the medicine
is no longer in time because the malady has become incurable; for it
happens in this, as the physicians say it happens in hectic fever,
that in the beginning of the malady it is easy to cure but difficult to
detect, but in the course of time, not having been either detected or
treated in the beginning, it becomes easy to detect but difficult to
cure. Thus it happens in affairs of state, for when the evils that arise
have been foreseen (which it is only given to a wise man to see), they
can be quickly redressed, but when, through not having been foreseen,
they have been permitted to grow in a way that every one can see them,
there is no longer a remedy. Therefore, the Romans, foreseeing troubles,
dealt with them at once, and, even to avoid a war, would not let them
come to a head, for they knew that war is not to be avoided, but is only
to be put off to the advantage of others; moreover they wished to fight
with Philip and Antiochus in Greece so as not to have to do it in Italy;
they could have avoided both, but this they did not wish; nor did that
ever please them which is forever in the mouths of the wise ones of our
time:--Let us enjoy the benefits of the time--but rather the benefits of
their own valour and prudence, for time drives everything before it, and
is able to bring with it good as well as evil, and evil as well as good.

     (*) See remark in the introduction on the word
     "intrattenere."

But let us turn to France and inquire whether she has done any of the
things mentioned. I will speak of Louis(*) (and not of Charles)(+) as
the one whose conduct is the better to be observed, he having held
possession of Italy for the longest period; and you will see that he
has done the opposite to those things which ought to be done to retain a
state composed of divers elements.

     (*) Louis XII, King of France, "The Father of the People,"
     born 1462, died 1515.

     (+) Charles VIII, King of France, born 1470, died 1498.

King Louis was brought into Italy by the ambition of the Venetians, who
desired to obtain half the state of Lombardy by his intervention. I
will not blame the course taken by the king, because, wishing to get a
foothold in Italy, and having no friends there--seeing rather that every
door was shut to him owing to the conduct of Charles--he was forced to
accept those friendships which he could get, and he would have succeeded
very quickly in his design if in other matters he had not made some
mistakes. The king, however, having acquired Lombardy, regained at once
the authority which Charles had lost: Genoa yielded; the Florentines
became his friends; the Marquess of Mantua, the Duke of Ferrara, the
Bentivogli, my lady of Forli, the Lords of Faenza, of Pesaro, of
Rimini, of Camerino, of Piombino, the Lucchese, the Pisans, the
Sienese--everybody made advances to him to become his friend. Then could
the Venetians realize the rashness of the course taken by them, which,
in order that they might secure two towns in Lombardy, had made the king
master of two-thirds of Italy.

Let any one now consider with what little difficulty the king could have
maintained his position in Italy had he observed the rules above laid
down, and kept all his friends secure and protected; for although they
were numerous they were both weak and timid, some afraid of the Church,
some of the Venetians, and thus they would always have been forced to
stand in with him, and by their means he could easily have made himself
secure against those who remained powerful. But he was no sooner in
Milan than he did the contrary by assisting Pope Alexander to occupy the
Romagna. It never occurred to him that by this action he was weakening
himself, depriving himself of friends and of those who had thrown
themselves into his lap, whilst he aggrandized the Church by adding much
temporal power to the spiritual, thus giving it greater authority. And
having committed this prime error, he was obliged to follow it up, so
much so that, to put an end to the ambition of Alexander, and to prevent
his becoming the master of Tuscany, he was himself forced to come into
Italy.

And as if it were not enough to have aggrandized the Church, and
deprived himself of friends, he, wishing to have the kingdom of Naples,
divided it with the King of Spain, and where he was the prime arbiter in
Italy he takes an associate, so that the ambitious of that country and
the malcontents of his own should have somewhere to shelter; and whereas
he could have left in the kingdom his own pensioner as king, he drove
him out, to put one there who was able to drive him, Louis, out in turn.

The wish to acquire is in truth very natural and common, and men always
do so when they can, and for this they will be praised not blamed; but
when they cannot do so, yet wish to do so by any means, then there is
folly and blame. Therefore, if France could have attacked Naples with
her own forces she ought to have done so; if she could not, then she
ought not to have divided it. And if the partition which she made with
the Venetians in Lombardy was justified by the excuse that by it she got
a foothold in Italy, this other partition merited blame, for it had not
the excuse of that necessity.

Therefore Louis made these five errors: he destroyed the minor powers,
he increased the strength of one of the greater powers in Italy, he
brought in a foreign power, he did not settle in the country, he did not
send colonies. Which errors, had he lived, were not enough to injure
him had he not made a sixth by taking away their dominions from the
Venetians; because, had he not aggrandized the Church, nor brought Spain
into Italy, it would have been very reasonable and necessary to humble
them; but having first taken these steps, he ought never to have
consented to their ruin, for they, being powerful, would always have
kept off others from designs on Lombardy, to which the Venetians would
never have consented except to become masters themselves there; also
because the others would not wish to take Lombardy from France in order
to give it to the Venetians, and to run counter to both they would not
have had the courage.

And if any one should say: "King Louis yielded the Romagna to Alexander
and the kingdom to Spain to avoid war," I answer for the reasons given
above that a blunder ought never to be perpetrated to avoid war, because
it is not to be avoided, but is only deferred to your disadvantage. And
if another should allege the pledge which the king had given to the
Pope that he would assist him in the enterprise, in exchange for the
dissolution of his marriage(*) and for the cap to Rouen,(+) to that I
reply what I shall write later on concerning the faith of princes, and
how it ought to be kept.

     (*) Louis XII divorced his wife, Jeanne, daughter of Louis
     XI, and married in 1499 Anne of Brittany, widow of Charles
     VIII, in order to retain the Duchy of Brittany for the
     crown.

     (+) The Archbishop of Rouen. He was Georges d'Amboise,
     created a cardinal by Alexander VI. Born 1460, died 1510.

Thus King Louis lost Lombardy by not having followed any of the
conditions observed by those who have taken possession of countries and
wished to retain them. Nor is there any miracle in this, but much that
is reasonable and quite natural. And on these matters I spoke at Nantes
with Rouen, when Valentino, as Cesare Borgia, the son of Pope Alexander,
was usually called, occupied the Romagna, and on Cardinal Rouen
observing to me that the Italians did not understand war, I replied
to him that the French did not understand statecraft, meaning that
otherwise they would not have allowed the Church to reach such
greatness. And in fact it has been seen that the greatness of the Church
and of Spain in Italy has been caused by France, and her ruin may be
attributed to them. From this a general rule is drawn which never or
rarely fails: that he who is the cause of another becoming powerful
is ruined; because that predominancy has been brought about either by
astuteness or else by force, and both are distrusted by him who has been
raised to power.

Machiavelli prefaces The Prince with a letter to "the Magnificent Lorenzo de Medici." In fact, the first edition of The Prince was dedicated to Guiliano de Medici, son of Lorenzo the Magnificent. Guiliano died in 1516, and so Machiavelli rededicated the book to one of Lorenzo's grandsons, the Duke of Urbino, who was also named Lorenzo. The opening letter is abstract enough to allow for these changes: Machiavelli admits that he is seeking favor with "a prince" and is offering his book as a gift. "I...would like to commend myself to your Magnificence with some token of my readiness to serve you," he writes. In the first chapter, entitled "Different Kinds of States, and the Different Ways to Get Them," Machiavelli proceeds to map out a classification of states. In short, we have princely states and republics. Princely states are either hereditary or new. The new states are either brand new or freshly joined to an established hereditary state. Of the latter, the conquered territories are accustomed to either living free or living under a prince. The second chapter focuses on hereditary principates. These are easier to rule than new states, as tradition provides a basis for stable government. Machiavelli argues a key point here in regards to a people's desire for change: "And in the antiquity and continuity of the government," he writes, "people forget not only the reasons for innovations but their very existence, because every new change provides a footing to build on another." Chapter III, "On Mixed Principalities," is a longer, more involved consideration of the problematic states: those states that are new and are "like a graft freshly joined to an old kingdom ." What we have here is, simply put, the conquest of territory. Machiavelli meditates on what exactly makes such a conquest successful, using two prime examples: the Roman Empire, which succeeded, and King Louis of France, who failed. What did the Romans do correctly? According to Machiavelli, they sent out colonies, a far better strategy than the use of standing armies . The Romans also indulged the less powerful, broke the more powerful, and didn't allow foreigners to gain a stronghold. Never did they let a trouble remain just to avoid going to war over it. As Machiavelli argues, war is never entirely avoidable, but is merely postponed; one should therefore fight it sooner rather than later, attacking those ills that plague a society before they become incurable. Preemption, in other words, is the name of the game. On the subject of colonies, Machiavelli goes one step further, noting that it is better to displace or disrupt the poor and powerless than the rich and powerful. Why? Because the poor cannot fight back. Moreover, "men ought either to be caressed or destroyed, since they will seek revenge for minor hurts but will not be able to revenge major ones." Turning to King Louis, Machiavelli lists his mistakes in an effort to explain his failure to conquer Italian states. Louis entered Italy through the ambition of the Venetians, who wanted to gain control of half of Lombardy. Granted this opportunity, Louis proceeded to squander it. He put down the weaker powers , increased the strength of a major power , introduced a powerful foreigner into the fray , never took up residence in Italy, never set up colonies, and deprived the Venetians of their power. This last error proved fatal: if the Venetians had retained full power, no one would have taken Lombardy from France just to give it to Venice, and the Venetians would not have let others in.

Machiavelli's methodology in these opening chapters is an intrinsically scientific one. He uses a classification system, treating states as varying species to be ordered in a form of political taxonomy. He also bolsters each claim with a historical example, flaunting his knowledge of past men and events, and unfolds his arguments in careful thesis-antithesis fashion, demonstrating the rights and the wrongs as absolute principles to be disregarded at one's own peril. His examples are by and large culled from Italian history. Machiavelli cites the case of the duke of Ferrara, "who did not yield under attacks either from the Venetians in 1484 or from Pope Julius in 1510" , and then discusses the Roman Empire, contrasting it with King Louis of France's unsuccessful attempt to gain control of Italy. What Machiavelli is beginning to build  is a vision of Italy that is grounded in historical specificity and a set of cardinal rules by which the science of politics operates. There is a curious dialectic between the abstract land Machiavelli seems to invoke when he writes of princes and princedoms as if they were variables in a mathematical equation, and the precision with which he fleshes out Italian history as well as the current events of his land. One can't help but surmise that Italy is the abstract setting of all Machiavelli's formulations, that he has his eye on improving the governance of his own country, and that his emphasis on conquered lands may point the way to a unified Italy, a dream that would not be realized for another three centuries. At the same time, Machiavelli intersperses his layering of details and examples with bits of philosophy and ruminations on the human condition. Indeed, it is not for nothing that he is often referred to as a "secular humanist." Though there are admittedly a few allusions to God, for the most part Machiavelli refers to humans as agents of free will - fickle, noble, full of flaws and merits - and the ultimate barometer of power. What causes princes to succeed or fail? Human nature. Consider the following line: "men ought either to be caressed or destroyed, since they will seek revenge for minor hurts but will not be able to revenge minor ones." Machiavelli bases his political conclusions on basic human impulses: like a great dramatist, he expounds on a set of particular human qualities and uses them to extrapolate broader meanings. He is a humanist insofar as he continually returns to these human impulses in his arguments, thereby positing the larger argument that power and the gain thereof are reflections of a universal human spirit. It is worth noting that Machiavelli never writes, "the French prefer to be caressed," or "the English are rebellious," or "the Germans are quick to avenge wrongs"; he is not a nationalist or even an ethnographist, but rather a believer in the universality of man. He writes in categorical terms, presaging Kant and the categorical imperative. Juxtaposed with his reliance on history as example and his emphasis on the comings and goings of his contemporaries is a vision of common man, united by certain fundamental qualities that have persisted since the dawn of civilization and that depend neither on nation nor on creed. In this way, he stands as a quintessential product of the Renaissance.


Considering the difficulties which men have had to hold to a newly
acquired state, some might wonder how, seeing that Alexander the
Great became the master of Asia in a few years, and died whilst it
was scarcely settled (whence it might appear reasonable that the whole
empire would have rebelled), nevertheless his successors maintained
themselves, and had to meet no other difficulty than that which arose
among themselves from their own ambitions.

I answer that the principalities of which one has record are found to
be governed in two different ways; either by a prince, with a body
of servants, who assist him to govern the kingdom as ministers by his
favour and permission; or by a prince and barons, who hold that dignity
by antiquity of blood and not by the grace of the prince. Such barons
have states and their own subjects, who recognize them as lords and hold
them in natural affection. Those states that are governed by a prince
and his servants hold their prince in more consideration, because in all
the country there is no one who is recognized as superior to him, and
if they yield obedience to another they do it as to a minister and
official, and they do not bear him any particular affection.

The examples of these two governments in our time are the Turk and the
King of France. The entire monarchy of the Turk is governed by one lord,
the others are his servants; and, dividing his kingdom into sanjaks, he
sends there different administrators, and shifts and changes them as
he chooses. But the King of France is placed in the midst of an ancient
body of lords, acknowledged by their own subjects, and beloved by them;
they have their own prerogatives, nor can the king take these away
except at his peril. Therefore, he who considers both of these states
will recognize great difficulties in seizing the state of the Turk,
but, once it is conquered, great ease in holding it. The causes of the
difficulties in seizing the kingdom of the Turk are that the usurper
cannot be called in by the princes of the kingdom, nor can he hope to be
assisted in his designs by the revolt of those whom the lord has around
him. This arises from the reasons given above; for his ministers, being
all slaves and bondmen, can only be corrupted with great difficulty, and
one can expect little advantage from them when they have been corrupted,
as they cannot carry the people with them, for the reasons assigned.
Hence, he who attacks the Turk must bear in mind that he will find him
united, and he will have to rely more on his own strength than on the
revolt of others; but, if once the Turk has been conquered, and routed
in the field in such a way that he cannot replace his armies, there
is nothing to fear but the family of this prince, and, this being
exterminated, there remains no one to fear, the others having no credit
with the people; and as the conqueror did not rely on them before his
victory, so he ought not to fear them after it.

The contrary happens in kingdoms governed like that of France, because
one can easily enter there by gaining over some baron of the kingdom,
for one always finds malcontents and such as desire a change. Such men,
for the reasons given, can open the way into the state and render the
victory easy; but if you wish to hold it afterwards, you meet with
infinite difficulties, both from those who have assisted you and from
those you have crushed. Nor is it enough for you to have exterminated
the family of the prince, because the lords that remain make themselves
the heads of fresh movements against you, and as you are unable either
to satisfy or exterminate them, that state is lost whenever time brings
the opportunity.

Now if you will consider what was the nature of the government of
Darius, you will find it similar to the kingdom of the Turk, and
therefore it was only necessary for Alexander, first to overthrow him in
the field, and then to take the country from him. After which victory,
Darius being killed, the state remained secure to Alexander, for the
above reasons. And if his successors had been united they would have
enjoyed it securely and at their ease, for there were no tumults raised
in the kingdom except those they provoked themselves.

But it is impossible to hold with such tranquillity states constituted
like that of France. Hence arose those frequent rebellions against the
Romans in Spain, France, and Greece, owing to the many principalities
there were in these states, of which, as long as the memory of them
endured, the Romans always held an insecure possession; but with the
power and long continuance of the empire the memory of them passed
away, and the Romans then became secure possessors. And when fighting
afterwards amongst themselves, each one was able to attach to himself
his own parts of the country, according to the authority he had assumed
there; and the family of the former lord being exterminated, none other
than the Romans were acknowledged.

When these things are remembered no one will marvel at the ease with
which Alexander held the Empire of Asia, or at the difficulties which
others have had to keep an acquisition, such as Pyrrhus and many more;
this is not occasioned by the little or abundance of ability in the
conqueror, but by the want of uniformity in the subject state.

Whenever those states which have been acquired as stated have been
accustomed to live under their own laws and in freedom, there are three
courses for those who wish to hold them: the first is to ruin them, the
next is to reside there in person, the third is to permit them to live
under their own laws, drawing a tribute, and establishing within it an
oligarchy which will keep it friendly to you. Because such a government,
being created by the prince, knows that it cannot stand without
his friendship and interest, and does it utmost to support him; and
therefore he who would keep a city accustomed to freedom will hold it
more easily by the means of its own citizens than in any other way.

There are, for example, the Spartans and the Romans. The Spartans held
Athens and Thebes, establishing there an oligarchy; nevertheless they
lost them. The Romans, in order to hold Capua, Carthage, and Numantia,
dismantled them, and did not lose them. They wished to hold Greece as
the Spartans held it, making it free and permitting its laws, and did
not succeed. So to hold it they were compelled to dismantle many
cities in the country, for in truth there is no safe way to retain them
otherwise than by ruining them. And he who becomes master of a city
accustomed to freedom and does not destroy it, may expect to be
destroyed by it, for in rebellion it has always the watchword of liberty
and its ancient privileges as a rallying point, which neither time
nor benefits will ever cause it to forget. And whatever you may do or
provide against, they never forget that name or their privileges unless
they are disunited or dispersed, but at every chance they immediately
rally to them, as Pisa after the hundred years she had been held in
bondage by the Florentines.

But when cities or countries are accustomed to live under a prince, and
his family is exterminated, they, being on the one hand accustomed to
obey and on the other hand not having the old prince, cannot agree in
making one from amongst themselves, and they do not know how to govern
themselves. For this reason they are very slow to take up arms, and a
prince can gain them to himself and secure them much more easily. But
in republics there is more vitality, greater hatred, and more desire
for vengeance, which will never permit them to allow the memory of their
former liberty to rest; so that the safest way is to destroy them or to
reside there.

Let no one be surprised if, in speaking of entirely new principalities
as I shall do, I adduce the highest examples both of prince and of
state; because men, walking almost always in paths beaten by others, and
following by imitation their deeds, are yet unable to keep entirely to
the ways of others or attain to the power of those they imitate. A wise
man ought always to follow the paths beaten by great men, and to imitate
those who have been supreme, so that if his ability does not equal
theirs, at least it will savour of it. Let him act like the clever
archers who, designing to hit the mark which yet appears too far
distant, and knowing the limits to which the strength of their bow
attains, take aim much higher than the mark, not to reach by their
strength or arrow to so great a height, but to be able with the aid of
so high an aim to hit the mark they wish to reach.

I say, therefore, that in entirely new principalities, where there is
a new prince, more or less difficulty is found in keeping them,
accordingly as there is more or less ability in him who has acquired
the state. Now, as the fact of becoming a prince from a private station
presupposes either ability or fortune, it is clear that one or other
of these things will mitigate in some degree many difficulties.
Nevertheless, he who has relied least on fortune is established the
strongest. Further, it facilitates matters when the prince, having no
other state, is compelled to reside there in person.

But to come to those who, by their own ability and not through fortune,
have risen to be princes, I say that Moses, Cyrus, Romulus, Theseus,
and such like are the most excellent examples. And although one may not
discuss Moses, he having been a mere executor of the will of God, yet
he ought to be admired, if only for that favour which made him worthy to
speak with God. But in considering Cyrus and others who have acquired or
founded kingdoms, all will be found admirable; and if their particular
deeds and conduct shall be considered, they will not be found inferior
to those of Moses, although he had so great a preceptor. And in
examining their actions and lives one cannot see that they owed anything
to fortune beyond opportunity, which brought them the material to mould
into the form which seemed best to them. Without that opportunity their
powers of mind would have been extinguished, and without those powers
the opportunity would have come in vain.

It was necessary, therefore, to Moses that he should find the people of
Israel in Egypt enslaved and oppressed by the Egyptians, in order that
they should be disposed to follow him so as to be delivered out of
bondage. It was necessary that Romulus should not remain in Alba, and
that he should be abandoned at his birth, in order that he should become
King of Rome and founder of the fatherland. It was necessary that Cyrus
should find the Persians discontented with the government of the Medes,
and the Medes soft and effeminate through their long peace. Theseus
could not have shown his ability had he not found the Athenians
dispersed. These opportunities, therefore, made those men fortunate,
and their high ability enabled them to recognize the opportunity whereby
their country was ennobled and made famous.

Those who by valorous ways become princes, like these men, acquire
a principality with difficulty, but they keep it with ease. The
difficulties they have in acquiring it rise in part from the new rules
and methods which they are forced to introduce to establish their
government and its security. And it ought to be remembered that there
is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or
more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction
of a new order of things, because the innovator has for enemies
all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm
defenders in those who may do well under the new. This coolness arises
partly from fear of the opponents, who have the laws on their side, and
partly from the incredulity of men, who do not readily believe in new
things until they have had a long experience of them. Thus it happens
that whenever those who are hostile have the opportunity to attack they
do it like partisans, whilst the others defend lukewarmly, in such wise
that the prince is endangered along with them.

It is necessary, therefore, if we desire to discuss this matter
thoroughly, to inquire whether these innovators can rely on themselves
or have to depend on others: that is to say, whether, to consummate
their enterprise, have they to use prayers or can they use force? In the
first instance they always succeed badly, and never compass anything;
but when they can rely on themselves and use force, then they are rarely
endangered. Hence it is that all armed prophets have conquered, and the
unarmed ones have been destroyed. Besides the reasons mentioned, the
nature of the people is variable, and whilst it is easy to persuade
them, it is difficult to fix them in that persuasion. And thus it is
necessary to take such measures that, when they believe no longer, it
may be possible to make them believe by force.

If Moses, Cyrus, Theseus, and Romulus had been unarmed they could not
have enforced their constitutions for long--as happened in our time to
Fra Girolamo Savonarola, who was ruined with his new order of things
immediately the multitude believed in him no longer, and he had no means
of keeping steadfast those who believed or of making the unbelievers to
believe. Therefore such as these have great difficulties in consummating
their enterprise, for all their dangers are in the ascent, yet with
ability they will overcome them; but when these are overcome, and those
who envied them their success are exterminated, they will begin to be
respected, and they will continue afterwards powerful, secure, honoured,
and happy.

To these great examples I wish to add a lesser one; still it bears some
resemblance to them, and I wish it to suffice me for all of a like kind:
it is Hiero the Syracusan.(*) This man rose from a private station to
be Prince of Syracuse, nor did he, either, owe anything to fortune but
opportunity; for the Syracusans, being oppressed, chose him for their
captain, afterwards he was rewarded by being made their prince. He was
of so great ability, even as a private citizen, that one who writes
of him says he wanted nothing but a kingdom to be a king. This man
abolished the old soldiery, organized the new, gave up old alliances,
made new ones; and as he had his own soldiers and allies, on such
foundations he was able to build any edifice: thus, whilst he had
endured much trouble in acquiring, he had but little in keeping.

     (*) Hiero II, born about 307 B.C., died 216 B.C.

Those who solely by good fortune become princes from being private
citizens have little trouble in rising, but much in keeping atop; they
have not any difficulties on the way up, because they fly, but they have
many when they reach the summit. Such are those to whom some state
is given either for money or by the favour of him who bestows it;
as happened to many in Greece, in the cities of Ionia and of the
Hellespont, where princes were made by Darius, in order that they might
hold the cities both for his security and his glory; as also were those
emperors who, by the corruption of the soldiers, from being citizens
came to empire. Such stand simply elevated upon the goodwill and the
fortune of him who has elevated them--two most inconstant and unstable
things. Neither have they the knowledge requisite for the position;
because, unless they are men of great worth and ability, it is not
reasonable to expect that they should know how to command, having always
lived in a private condition; besides, they cannot hold it because they
have not forces which they can keep friendly and faithful.

States that rise unexpectedly, then, like all other things in nature
which are born and grow rapidly, cannot leave their foundations and
correspondencies(*) fixed in such a way that the first storm will
not overthrow them; unless, as is said, those who unexpectedly become
princes are men of so much ability that they know they have to be
prepared at once to hold that which fortune has thrown into their laps,
and that those foundations, which others have laid BEFORE they became
princes, they must lay AFTERWARDS.

     (*) "Le radici e corrispondenze," their roots (i.e.
     foundations) and correspondencies or relations with other
     states--a common meaning of "correspondence" and
     "correspondency" in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

Concerning these two methods of rising to be a prince by ability or
fortune, I wish to adduce two examples within our own recollection, and
these are Francesco Sforza(*) and Cesare Borgia. Francesco, by proper
means and with great ability, from being a private person rose to be
Duke of Milan, and that which he had acquired with a thousand anxieties
he kept with little trouble. On the other hand, Cesare Borgia, called by
the people Duke Valentino, acquired his state during the ascendancy of
his father, and on its decline he lost it, notwithstanding that he had
taken every measure and done all that ought to be done by a wise and
able man to fix firmly his roots in the states which the arms and
fortunes of others had bestowed on him.

     (*) Francesco Sforza, born 1401, died 1466. He married
     Bianca Maria Visconti, a natural daughter of Filippo
     Visconti, the Duke of Milan, on whose death he procured his
     own elevation to the duchy. Machiavelli was the accredited
     agent of the Florentine Republic to Cesare Borgia (1478-
     1507) during the transactions which led up to the
     assassinations of the Orsini and Vitelli at Sinigalia, and
     along with his letters to his chiefs in Florence he has left
     an account, written ten years before "The Prince," of the
     proceedings of the duke in his "Descritione del modo tenuto
     dal duca Valentino nello ammazzare Vitellozzo Vitelli,"
     etc., a translation of which is appended to the present
     work.

Because, as is stated above, he who has not first laid his foundations
may be able with great ability to lay them afterwards, but they will
be laid with trouble to the architect and danger to the building. If,
therefore, all the steps taken by the duke be considered, it will be
seen that he laid solid foundations for his future power, and I do not
consider it superfluous to discuss them, because I do not know what
better precepts to give a new prince than the example of his actions;
and if his dispositions were of no avail, that was not his fault, but
the extraordinary and extreme malignity of fortune.

Alexander the Sixth, in wishing to aggrandize the duke, his son, had
many immediate and prospective difficulties. Firstly, he did not see his
way to make him master of any state that was not a state of the Church;
and if he was willing to rob the Church he knew that the Duke of Milan
and the Venetians would not consent, because Faenza and Rimini were
already under the protection of the Venetians. Besides this, he saw the
arms of Italy, especially those by which he might have been assisted, in
hands that would fear the aggrandizement of the Pope, namely, the Orsini
and the Colonnesi and their following. It behoved him, therefore,
to upset this state of affairs and embroil the powers, so as to make
himself securely master of part of their states. This was easy for him
to do, because he found the Venetians, moved by other reasons, inclined
to bring back the French into Italy; he would not only not oppose this,
but he would render it more easy by dissolving the former marriage of
King Louis. Therefore the king came into Italy with the assistance of
the Venetians and the consent of Alexander. He was no sooner in Milan
than the Pope had soldiers from him for the attempt on the Romagna,
which yielded to him on the reputation of the king. The duke, therefore,
having acquired the Romagna and beaten the Colonnesi, while wishing to
hold that and to advance further, was hindered by two things: the one,
his forces did not appear loyal to him, the other, the goodwill of
France: that is to say, he feared that the forces of the Orsini, which
he was using, would not stand to him, that not only might they hinder
him from winning more, but might themselves seize what he had won, and
that the king might also do the same. Of the Orsini he had a warning
when, after taking Faenza and attacking Bologna, he saw them go very
unwillingly to that attack. And as to the king, he learned his mind when
he himself, after taking the Duchy of Urbino, attacked Tuscany, and the
king made him desist from that undertaking; hence the duke decided to
depend no more upon the arms and the luck of others.

For the first thing he weakened the Orsini and Colonnesi parties in
Rome, by gaining to himself all their adherents who were gentlemen,
making them his gentlemen, giving them good pay, and, according to their
rank, honouring them with office and command in such a way that in a few
months all attachment to the factions was destroyed and turned entirely
to the duke. After this he awaited an opportunity to crush the Orsini,
having scattered the adherents of the Colonna house. This came to him
soon and he used it well; for the Orsini, perceiving at length that the
aggrandizement of the duke and the Church was ruin to them, called a
meeting of the Magione in Perugia. From this sprung the rebellion at
Urbino and the tumults in the Romagna, with endless dangers to the duke,
all of which he overcame with the help of the French. Having restored
his authority, not to leave it at risk by trusting either to the French
or other outside forces, he had recourse to his wiles, and he knew
so well how to conceal his mind that, by the mediation of Signor
Pagolo--whom the duke did not fail to secure with all kinds of
attention, giving him money, apparel, and horses--the Orsini were
reconciled, so that their simplicity brought them into his power
at Sinigalia.(*) Having exterminated the leaders, and turned their
partisans into his friends, the duke laid sufficiently good foundations
to his power, having all the Romagna and the Duchy of Urbino; and the
people now beginning to appreciate their prosperity, he gained them
all over to himself. And as this point is worthy of notice, and to be
imitated by others, I am not willing to leave it out.

     (*) Sinigalia, 31st December 1502.

When the duke occupied the Romagna he found it under the rule of weak
masters, who rather plundered their subjects than ruled them, and gave
them more cause for disunion than for union, so that the country was
full of robbery, quarrels, and every kind of violence; and so, wishing
to bring back peace and obedience to authority, he considered it
necessary to give it a good governor. Thereupon he promoted Messer
Ramiro d'Orco,(*) a swift and cruel man, to whom he gave the fullest
power. This man in a short time restored peace and unity with the
greatest success. Afterwards the duke considered that it was not
advisable to confer such excessive authority, for he had no doubt but
that he would become odious, so he set up a court of judgment in the
country, under a most excellent president, wherein all cities had their
advocates. And because he knew that the past severity had caused some
hatred against himself, so, to clear himself in the minds of the people,
and gain them entirely to himself, he desired to show that, if any
cruelty had been practised, it had not originated with him, but in the
natural sternness of the minister. Under this pretence he took Ramiro,
and one morning caused him to be executed and left on the piazza at
Cesena with the block and a bloody knife at his side. The barbarity of
this spectacle caused the people to be at once satisfied and dismayed.

     (*) Ramiro d'Orco. Ramiro de Lorqua.

But let us return whence we started. I say that the duke, finding
himself now sufficiently powerful and partly secured from immediate
dangers by having armed himself in his own way, and having in a great
measure crushed those forces in his vicinity that could injure him if he
wished to proceed with his conquest, had next to consider France, for
he knew that the king, who too late was aware of his mistake, would not
support him. And from this time he began to seek new alliances and to
temporize with France in the expedition which she was making towards the
kingdom of Naples against the Spaniards who were besieging Gaeta. It
was his intention to secure himself against them, and this he would have
quickly accomplished had Alexander lived.

Such was his line of action as to present affairs. But as to the future
he had to fear, in the first place, that a new successor to the Church
might not be friendly to him and might seek to take from him that which
Alexander had given him, so he decided to act in four ways. Firstly, by
exterminating the families of those lords whom he had despoiled, so as
to take away that pretext from the Pope. Secondly, by winning to himself
all the gentlemen of Rome, so as to be able to curb the Pope with their
aid, as has been observed. Thirdly, by converting the college more to
himself. Fourthly, by acquiring so much power before the Pope should die
that he could by his own measures resist the first shock. Of these four
things, at the death of Alexander, he had accomplished three. For he had
killed as many of the dispossessed lords as he could lay hands on, and
few had escaped; he had won over the Roman gentlemen, and he had the
most numerous party in the college. And as to any fresh acquisition, he
intended to become master of Tuscany, for he already possessed Perugia
and Piombino, and Pisa was under his protection. And as he had no longer
to study France (for the French were already driven out of the kingdom
of Naples by the Spaniards, and in this way both were compelled to buy
his goodwill), he pounced down upon Pisa. After this, Lucca and Siena
yielded at once, partly through hatred and partly through fear of
the Florentines; and the Florentines would have had no remedy had he
continued to prosper, as he was prospering the year that Alexander died,
for he had acquired so much power and reputation that he would have
stood by himself, and no longer have depended on the luck and the forces
of others, but solely on his own power and ability.

But Alexander died five years after he had first drawn the sword. He
left the duke with the state of Romagna alone consolidated, with the
rest in the air, between two most powerful hostile armies, and sick unto
death. Yet there were in the duke such boldness and ability, and he knew
so well how men are to be won or lost, and so firm were the foundations
which in so short a time he had laid, that if he had not had those
armies on his back, or if he had been in good health, he would have
overcome all difficulties. And it is seen that his foundations were
good, for the Romagna awaited him for more than a month. In Rome,
although but half alive, he remained secure; and whilst the Baglioni,
the Vitelli, and the Orsini might come to Rome, they could not effect
anything against him. If he could not have made Pope him whom he wished,
at least the one whom he did not wish would not have been elected. But
if he had been in sound health at the death of Alexander,(*) everything
would have been different to him. On the day that Julius the Second(+)
was elected, he told me that he had thought of everything that might
occur at the death of his father, and had provided a remedy for all,
except that he had never anticipated that, when the death did happen, he
himself would be on the point to die.

     (*) Alexander VI died of fever, 18th August 1503.

     (+) Julius II was Giuliano della Rovere, Cardinal of San
     Pietro ad Vincula, born 1443, died 1513.

When all the actions of the duke are recalled, I do not know how to
blame him, but rather it appears to be, as I have said, that I ought to
offer him for imitation to all those who, by the fortune or the arms of
others, are raised to government. Because he, having a lofty spirit and
far-reaching aims, could not have regulated his conduct otherwise,
and only the shortness of the life of Alexander and his own sickness
frustrated his designs. Therefore, he who considers it necessary to
secure himself in his new principality, to win friends, to overcome
either by force or fraud, to make himself beloved and feared by the
people, to be followed and revered by the soldiers, to exterminate those
who have power or reason to hurt him, to change the old order of things
for new, to be severe and gracious, magnanimous and liberal, to destroy
a disloyal soldiery and to create new, to maintain friendship with kings
and princes in such a way that they must help him with zeal and offend
with caution, cannot find a more lively example than the actions of this
man.

Only can he be blamed for the election of Julius the Second, in whom he
made a bad choice, because, as is said, not being able to elect a Pope
to his own mind, he could have hindered any other from being elected
Pope; and he ought never to have consented to the election of any
cardinal whom he had injured or who had cause to fear him if they became
pontiffs. For men injure either from fear or hatred. Those whom he
had injured, amongst others, were San Pietro ad Vincula, Colonna, San
Giorgio, and Ascanio.(*) The rest, in becoming Pope, had to fear him,
Rouen and the Spaniards excepted; the latter from their relationship and
obligations, the former from his influence, the kingdom of France having
relations with him. Therefore, above everything, the duke ought to have
created a Spaniard Pope, and, failing him, he ought to have consented to
Rouen and not San Pietro ad Vincula. He who believes that new benefits
will cause great personages to forget old injuries is deceived.
Therefore, the duke erred in his choice, and it was the cause of his
ultimate ruin.

     (*) San Giorgio is Raffaello Riario. Ascanio is Ascanio
     Sforza.

There are two kinds of kingdoms: those in which the prince is the sole ruler and those in which power is split between the prince and the barons . This classification enables Machiavelli to argue, as the title of Chapter IV goes, "Why the Successors of Alexander After His Death Did Not Lose the Kingdom He Had Conquered From Darius." The first kind of kingdom is difficult to conquer and easy to hold onto; the latter is easy to conquer and difficult to hold onto. What should a prince do if he has conquered a republic, as opposed to a kingdom? Herein lie a number of difficulties, enumerated in the next chapter, "How Cities or States Should Be Ruled Which Lived By Their Own Laws Before Being Taken." The subjects of a conquered kingdom are not used to living in freedom or standing up for themselves, and are therefore slower to take up arms than are the citizens of a republic. There are three options for the conquering prince: destroy the republic, live there, or set up a puppet government. At the end of the day, Machiavelli seems to favor the first option. The Spartans established oligarchies in Athens and Thebes and lost both. The Romans destroyed Capua, Carthage, and Numantia and never lost them. "Any man who becomes master of a city accustomed to freedom, and does not destroy it, may expect to be destroyed by it," Machiavelli writes. In the following chapter, "About New Princedoms Acquired With One's Own Arms and Energy," Machiavelli digresses momentarily in order to explain why he relies so much on examples in his writing. "A prudent man should always follow the footsteps of the great and imitate those who have been supreme," he writes. The most notable princes who became princes by their own force were, according to Machiavelli, Moses , Cyrus , Romulus , and Theseus . These are the giants of the past and the models for present and future princes to follow; men of this sort "may have trouble gaining their power, but they find it easy to hold onto." Carving out one's own position of power single-handedly, without outside help, is an arduous task; but once accomplished, the prince who has risen on his own merits and by his own force will find his perch far easier to maintain. On the other hand, new states acquired either by fortune or outside assistance are easy to conquer; the difficulty lies in holding onto power, as Machiavelli argues in his next chapter, "About New States Acquired With Other People's Arms and By Good Luck." Here Machiavelli zeroes in on a single protracted example: the story of Cesare Borgia, otherwise known as Duke Valentino, the son of Pope Alexander VI. Alexander wanted to give his son a state to rule, but the only ones he could offer were the papal states, and the Duke of Milan and the Venetians would never agree to that hand-off of power. So the Pope used his ties to King Louis of France to secure control of Romagna for his son. Louis offered up some of his own troops to aid in the cause after Alexander helped the French King enter Italy by dissolving his first marriage. Now that Cesare Borgia had Romagna, what was he to do next? Two problems faced him: he could not trust his army, composed of members of the Orsini clan , and he could not trust King Louis. His suspicions that these players might turn against him growing, Cesare decided to no longer rely on their support. He recruited to his cause all noble-ranked Orsinis and Colonna followers in Rome, thereby weakening the Orsini/Colonna factions. The city of Urbino, an Orsini stronghold, rebelled as a result, the Orsini family having realized what Cesare was up to. Cesare promptly squashed the revolt with the aid of the French. The Orsinis tried to reconcile with him, and Cesare used this opportunity to lure their leaders to Sinigaglia and kill them all. Cesare now possessed Romagna fully, but it was a territory rife with crime and disorder. He appointed Remirro de Orco, a notoriously cruel and ruthless man, as lieutenant general of the region. Quickly and mercilessly, Remirro pacified and unified Romagna. Then, in order to quell the hatred that this aggressiveness might have spawned, Cesare had Remirro tried and executed, making it clear that the cruelty had been the result of the lieutenant general's character, and not Cesare's own. Machiavelli expresses approval for all these drastic measures. However, the tide ultimately turned against Cesare. Alexander died, and Cesare himself fell ill. In the depths of his illness, he made the mistake of allowing Julius to become the next Pope. Machiavelli argues that he should instead have tried to make a Spaniard Pope, or else accepted Rouen's entreaties to the papacy, the reason being that both Spain and Rouen were "bound to him by nationality and obligation." Julius, on the other hand, had reason to hate and fear Cesare: he had endured ten years of exile in France, and held a considerable grudge against the Borgia family. Machiavelli offers Cesare Borgia up as an example of what to do right should a prince acquire his power through the help of others, and the ways in which fortune can lay waste to even the best plans.

Out of the trials and tribulations of Cesare Borgia Machiavelli constructs a rise-and-fall saga that is itself a profoundly moving piece of storytelling. Machiavelli, especially in his later works, seemed to prefer to be thought of as an historian, and here he shows off his predilection for spinning the messiness of history into the stuff of great fiction to. That said, Machiavelli does much to undercut and subvert his own tendency to draw larger meanings out of complex events. For example, Machiavelli posits Borgia as a kind of latter-day mortal equivalent of the legends of history: Moses, Cyrus, Romulus, Theseus. Where those ancient figures exist shrouded in a haze, their exploits mythologized, Borgia is, for Machiavelli, a contemporary figure, and thus cannot hope to live up to these precedents. He is a flawed man, albeit one equipped with intelligence and courage, and yet when Machiavelli concludes by blaming Cesare's failure on bad luck, one senses a kind of half-heartedness in the decision. Julius's rise to the papacy sealed Cesare's doom, and that rise can be attributed, according to Machiavelli, to a lapse of reason on Cesare's part: "his only error lay in making Julius pope, where he simply made a bad choice; because, as I said, though he couldn't make his own man pope, he could keep anyone else from the office." It is interesting to note the extent to which Machiavelli will decry or apologize for either figures of history or his contemporaries, when it comes to Borgia one senses some level of personal connection to or feeling for the material. "Looking over all the duke's actions, then," he writes, "I find nothing with which to reproach him; rather I think I'm right in proposing him, as I have done, as a model for all those who rise to power by means of the fortune and arms of others." There is a defensiveness in the tone that is worth considering. History is, indeed, inherently subjective. What gets told, not to mention why, is dependent on so many variables, and in the end it is the temperament of the historian that dictates the form history takes. From his decision to introduce The Prince with a letter to Lorenzo de Medici, itself a heartfelt plea for understanding and favor, to his construction of Borgia as a character and his use of the first person, it is clear that Machiavelli's writing is not the work of a faceless author who would rather disappear behind the veil of his own ostensibly objective formulations, but is rather a kind of first-person history, a sustained meditation on the foibles of human nature and how those foibles translate into larger  results. In other words, The Prince is a work of philosophy in the traditional sense: a sustained piece of thought that personalizes the impersonal. To this effect, certain fibs can be identified in Machiavelli's history-making. One example that springs to mind is his reference to France as a major problem for the Romans. Not only does Machiavelli seem to equate pre-Capet France with the nation post-Capet, stretching his vision of a prince sharing power with barons, but in some sort of vaguely centralized manner, back in the days of Vercingetorix and the Gallic Wars, he also exaggerates Gaul's rebelliousness once conquered by the Roman Empire. In fact, Gaul became one of the Empire's calmer territories. That said, Machiavelli is not prone to historical inaccuracy, and his elision of certain facts in this case can be interpreted as a way of supporting his central argument - that states in which power is split between princes and barons are easy to conquer and difficult to hold onto.


Although a prince may rise from a private station in two ways, neither
of which can be entirely attributed to fortune or genius, yet it is
manifest to me that I must not be silent on them, although one could be
more copiously treated when I discuss republics. These methods are
when, either by some wicked or nefarious ways, one ascends to the
principality, or when by the favour of his fellow-citizens a private
person becomes the prince of his country. And speaking of the first
method, it will be illustrated by two examples--one ancient, the other
modern--and without entering further into the subject, I consider these
two examples will suffice those who may be compelled to follow them.

Agathocles, the Sicilian,(*) became King of Syracuse not only from
a private but from a low and abject position. This man, the son of a
potter, through all the changes in his fortunes always led an infamous
life. Nevertheless, he accompanied his infamies with so much ability of
mind and body that, having devoted himself to the military profession,
he rose through its ranks to be Praetor of Syracuse. Being established
in that position, and having deliberately resolved to make himself
prince and to seize by violence, without obligation to others, that
which had been conceded to him by assent, he came to an understanding
for this purpose with Amilcar, the Carthaginian, who, with his army, was
fighting in Sicily. One morning he assembled the people and the senate
of Syracuse, as if he had to discuss with them things relating to the
Republic, and at a given signal the soldiers killed all the senators and
the richest of the people; these dead, he seized and held the princedom
of that city without any civil commotion. And although he was twice
routed by the Carthaginians, and ultimately besieged, yet not only was
he able to defend his city, but leaving part of his men for its defence,
with the others he attacked Africa, and in a short time raised the
siege of Syracuse. The Carthaginians, reduced to extreme necessity, were
compelled to come to terms with Agathocles, and, leaving Sicily to him,
had to be content with the possession of Africa.

     (*) Agathocles the Sicilian, born 361 B.C., died 289 B.C.

Therefore, he who considers the actions and the genius of this man will
see nothing, or little, which can be attributed to fortune, inasmuch as
he attained pre-eminence, as is shown above, not by the favour of any
one, but step by step in the military profession, which steps were
gained with a thousand troubles and perils, and were afterwards boldly
held by him with many hazardous dangers. Yet it cannot be called talent
to slay fellow-citizens, to deceive friends, to be without faith,
without mercy, without religion; such methods may gain empire, but
not glory. Still, if the courage of Agathocles in entering into and
extricating himself from dangers be considered, together with his
greatness of mind in enduring and overcoming hardships, it cannot be
seen why he should be esteemed less than the most notable captain.
Nevertheless, his barbarous cruelty and inhumanity with infinite
wickedness do not permit him to be celebrated among the most excellent
men. What he achieved cannot be attributed either to fortune or genius.

In our times, during the rule of Alexander the Sixth, Oliverotto da
Fermo, having been left an orphan many years before, was brought up
by his maternal uncle, Giovanni Fogliani, and in the early days of his
youth sent to fight under Pagolo Vitelli, that, being trained under
his discipline, he might attain some high position in the military
profession. After Pagolo died, he fought under his brother Vitellozzo,
and in a very short time, being endowed with wit and a vigorous body
and mind, he became the first man in his profession. But it appearing
a paltry thing to serve under others, he resolved, with the aid of some
citizens of Fermo, to whom the slavery of their country was dearer than
its liberty, and with the help of the Vitelleschi, to seize Fermo. So
he wrote to Giovanni Fogliani that, having been away from home for many
years, he wished to visit him and his city, and in some measure to look
upon his patrimony; and although he had not laboured to acquire anything
except honour, yet, in order that the citizens should see he had not
spent his time in vain, he desired to come honourably, so would be
accompanied by one hundred horsemen, his friends and retainers; and he
entreated Giovanni to arrange that he should be received honourably by
the Fermians, all of which would be not only to his honour, but also to
that of Giovanni himself, who had brought him up.

Giovanni, therefore, did not fail in any attentions due to his nephew,
and he caused him to be honourably received by the Fermians, and he
lodged him in his own house, where, having passed some days, and having
arranged what was necessary for his wicked designs, Oliverotto gave a
solemn banquet to which he invited Giovanni Fogliani and the chiefs of
Fermo. When the viands and all the other entertainments that are usual
in such banquets were finished, Oliverotto artfully began certain grave
discourses, speaking of the greatness of Pope Alexander and his son
Cesare, and of their enterprises, to which discourse Giovanni and others
answered; but he rose at once, saying that such matters ought to be
discussed in a more private place, and he betook himself to a chamber,
whither Giovanni and the rest of the citizens went in after him. No
sooner were they seated than soldiers issued from secret places and
slaughtered Giovanni and the rest. After these murders Oliverotto,
mounted on horseback, rode up and down the town and besieged the chief
magistrate in the palace, so that in fear the people were forced to obey
him, and to form a government, of which he made himself the prince. He
killed all the malcontents who were able to injure him, and strengthened
himself with new civil and military ordinances, in such a way that, in
the year during which he held the principality, not only was he
secure in the city of Fermo, but he had become formidable to all his
neighbours. And his destruction would have been as difficult as that
of Agathocles if he had not allowed himself to be overreached by Cesare
Borgia, who took him with the Orsini and Vitelli at Sinigalia, as was
stated above. Thus one year after he had committed this parricide, he
was strangled, together with Vitellozzo, whom he had made his leader in
valour and wickedness.

Some may wonder how it can happen that Agathocles, and his like, after
infinite treacheries and cruelties, should live for long secure in
his country, and defend himself from external enemies, and never be
conspired against by his own citizens; seeing that many others, by means
of cruelty, have never been able even in peaceful times to hold the
state, still less in the doubtful times of war. I believe that this
follows from severities(*) being badly or properly used. Those may be
called properly used, if of evil it is possible to speak well, that are
applied at one blow and are necessary to one's security, and that are
not persisted in afterwards unless they can be turned to the advantage
of the subjects. The badly employed are those which, notwithstanding
they may be few in the commencement, multiply with time rather than
decrease. Those who practise the first system are able, by aid of God
or man, to mitigate in some degree their rule, as Agathocles did. It is
impossible for those who follow the other to maintain themselves.

     (*) Mr Burd suggests that this word probably comes near the
     modern equivalent of Machiavelli's thought when he speaks of
     "crudelta" than the more obvious "cruelties."

Hence it is to be remarked that, in seizing a state, the usurper ought
to examine closely into all those injuries which it is necessary for him
to inflict, and to do them all at one stroke so as not to have to repeat
them daily; and thus by not unsettling men he will be able to reassure
them, and win them to himself by benefits. He who does otherwise, either
from timidity or evil advice, is always compelled to keep the knife
in his hand; neither can he rely on his subjects, nor can they attach
themselves to him, owing to their continued and repeated wrongs. For
injuries ought to be done all at one time, so that, being tasted less,
they offend less; benefits ought to be given little by little, so that
the flavour of them may last longer.

And above all things, a prince ought to live amongst his people in such
a way that no unexpected circumstances, whether of good or evil, shall
make him change; because if the necessity for this comes in troubled
times, you are too late for harsh measures; and mild ones will not help
you, for they will be considered as forced from you, and no one will be
under any obligation to you for them.

But coming to the other point--where a leading citizen becomes the
prince of his country, not by wickedness or any intolerable violence,
but by the favour of his fellow citizens--this may be called a civil
principality: nor is genius or fortune altogether necessary to attain to
it, but rather a happy shrewdness. I say then that such a principality
is obtained either by the favour of the people or by the favour of the
nobles. Because in all cities these two distinct parties are found,
and from this it arises that the people do not wish to be ruled nor
oppressed by the nobles, and the nobles wish to rule and oppress the
people; and from these two opposite desires there arises in cities one
of three results, either a principality, self-government, or anarchy.

A principality is created either by the people or by the nobles,
accordingly as one or other of them has the opportunity; for the nobles,
seeing they cannot withstand the people, begin to cry up the reputation
of one of themselves, and they make him a prince, so that under his
shadow they can give vent to their ambitions. The people, finding
they cannot resist the nobles, also cry up the reputation of one of
themselves, and make him a prince so as to be defended by his authority.
He who obtains sovereignty by the assistance of the nobles maintains
himself with more difficulty than he who comes to it by the aid of
the people, because the former finds himself with many around him who
consider themselves his equals, and because of this he can neither rule
nor manage them to his liking. But he who reaches sovereignty by popular
favour finds himself alone, and has none around him, or few, who are not
prepared to obey him.

Besides this, one cannot by fair dealing, and without injury to others,
satisfy the nobles, but you can satisfy the people, for their object is
more righteous than that of the nobles, the latter wishing to oppress,
while the former only desire not to be oppressed. It is to be added also
that a prince can never secure himself against a hostile people, because
of there being too many, whilst from the nobles he can secure himself,
as they are few in number. The worst that a prince may expect from a
hostile people is to be abandoned by them; but from hostile nobles he
has not only to fear abandonment, but also that they will rise against
him; for they, being in these affairs more far-seeing and astute, always
come forward in time to save themselves, and to obtain favours from him
whom they expect to prevail. Further, the prince is compelled to live
always with the same people, but he can do well without the same nobles,
being able to make and unmake them daily, and to give or take away
authority when it pleases him.

Therefore, to make this point clearer, I say that the nobles ought to
be looked at mainly in two ways: that is to say, they either shape their
course in such a way as binds them entirely to your fortune, or they do
not. Those who so bind themselves, and are not rapacious, ought to be
honoured and loved; those who do not bind themselves may be dealt
with in two ways; they may fail to do this through pusillanimity and a
natural want of courage, in which case you ought to make use of them,
especially of those who are of good counsel; and thus, whilst in
prosperity you honour them, in adversity you do not have to fear them.
But when for their own ambitious ends they shun binding themselves, it
is a token that they are giving more thought to themselves than to you,
and a prince ought to guard against such, and to fear them as if they
were open enemies, because in adversity they always help to ruin him.

Therefore, one who becomes a prince through the favour of the people
ought to keep them friendly, and this he can easily do seeing they
only ask not to be oppressed by him. But one who, in opposition to
the people, becomes a prince by the favour of the nobles, ought, above
everything, to seek to win the people over to himself, and this he may
easily do if he takes them under his protection. Because men, when they
receive good from him of whom they were expecting evil, are bound more
closely to their benefactor; thus the people quickly become more devoted
to him than if he had been raised to the principality by their favours;
and the prince can win their affections in many ways, but as these vary
according to the circumstances one cannot give fixed rules, so I omit
them; but, I repeat, it is necessary for a prince to have the people
friendly, otherwise he has no security in adversity.

Nabis,(*) Prince of the Spartans, sustained the attack of all Greece,
and of a victorious Roman army, and against them he defended his country
and his government; and for the overcoming of this peril it was only
necessary for him to make himself secure against a few, but this would
not have been sufficient had the people been hostile. And do not let any
one impugn this statement with the trite proverb that "He who builds on
the people, builds on the mud," for this is true when a private citizen
makes a foundation there, and persuades himself that the people will
free him when he is oppressed by his enemies or by the magistrates;
wherein he would find himself very often deceived, as happened to the
Gracchi in Rome and to Messer Giorgio Scali(+) in Florence. But granted
a prince who has established himself as above, who can command, and is
a man of courage, undismayed in adversity, who does not fail in other
qualifications, and who, by his resolution and energy, keeps the whole
people encouraged--such a one will never find himself deceived in them,
and it will be shown that he has laid his foundations well.

     (*) Nabis, tyrant of Sparta, conquered by the Romans under
     Flamininus in 195 B.C.; killed 192 B.C.

     (+) Messer Giorgio Scali. This event is to be found in
     Machiavelli's "Florentine History," Book III.

These principalities are liable to danger when they are passing from the
civil to the absolute order of government, for such princes either rule
personally or through magistrates. In the latter case their government
is weaker and more insecure, because it rests entirely on the goodwill
of those citizens who are raised to the magistracy, and who, especially
in troubled times, can destroy the government with great ease, either
by intrigue or open defiance; and the prince has not the chance amid
tumults to exercise absolute authority, because the citizens and
subjects, accustomed to receive orders from magistrates, are not of
a mind to obey him amid these confusions, and there will always be in
doubtful times a scarcity of men whom he can trust. For such a prince
cannot rely upon what he observes in quiet times, when citizens have
need of the state, because then every one agrees with him; they all
promise, and when death is far distant they all wish to die for him;
but in troubled times, when the state has need of its citizens, then
he finds but few. And so much the more is this experiment dangerous,
inasmuch as it can only be tried once. Therefore a wise prince ought to
adopt such a course that his citizens will always in every sort and
kind of circumstance have need of the state and of him, and then he will
always find them faithful.

"On Those Who Have Become Princes By Crime," is one of the key chapters of The Prince. In it, Machiavelli seems to distinguish between outright cruelty and the kind of clever ruthlessness he describes earlier in the work . He makes use of two examples: the first ancient, and the second modern. Agathocles massacred all the senators and richest citizens of Syracuse, and thereby became prince. Oliverotto da Fermo murdered his uncle and other citizens, and forced Fermo to make him its prince. An interesting side-note: Oliverotto was later killed by Cesare Borgia at Sinigaglia, having fallen victim to another statesman's trickery. How, Machiavelli asks, did these two men "live long, secure lives in their native cities, defend themselves from foreign enemies, and never be conspired against by their fellow citizens?" His answer: because their cruelty was put to good use. Cruelty can be considered well-used if carried out in one stab, the wicked deeds executed all at once, and if it can be interpreted as necessary for self-preservation. This distinction leads Machiavelli to the following argument: "We may add this note that when a prince takes a new state, he should calculate the sum of all the injuries he will have to do, and do them all at once, so as not to have to do new ones every day; simply by not repeating them, he will then be able to reassure people, and win them over to his side with benefits." The next chapter, "On the Civil Principate," concerns another kind of prince: one who gains power "not through crimes or other intolerable violence, but by the choice of his fellow citizens ." A prince can rise in this fashion in one of two ways: either by the will of the people, or by the will of the nobles. "In every city," Machiavelli goes on to argue, "there are two different humors, one rising from the people's desire not to be ordered and commanded by the nobles, and the other from the desire of the nobles to command and oppress the people." If nobles see they are having trouble with the people, they make one of their own a prince; he becomes their puppet, and therefore they get what they want on a larger scale. If the people feel that the nobles are oppressing them, they will try to make one of their own a prince; he then becomes their shield against the nobles. As nobles are particularly difficult to deal with, a prince of any kind should try to win the favor of the populace and keep it dependent on the state. Machiavelli rejects the notion that "The man who counts on the people builds his house on mud," though he does concede that a prince should not let "himself think that the people will come to his aid when he is in trouble." As with so much else, it is all about balance.

Machiavelli has a reputation, largely based on The Prince, for a cold-hearted worldview, political cynicism, and philosophical ruthlessness. However, this reputation is largely exaggerated. As influential as Machiavelli's ideas may have been on future generations of totalitarians, realpolitik maestros, and Kissinger think-alikes, his own approach is far more complex: it reflects a taste for expediency and an emphasis on ends over means, but is muted by a concern for human needs and a genuine interest in human nature. Consider the following sentence, from Chapter IX: "In fact the aim of the common people is more honest than that of the nobles, since the nobles want to oppress others, while the people simply want not to be oppressed." Machiavelli adopts an altogether bitter tone when describing the nobles - their greed, their power-lust, their selfishness - and seems to argue that a good prince should rise above such petty wants and lowly attributes. If anything, a prince should pay more attention to the people than to the nobles. While such a formulation may seem to be common sense, it reflects an almost democratic view: the will of the many over the will of the few, protection for the powerless against the threats of the powerful. That this chapter follows a chapter exclusively devoted to criminal princes is telling. Machiavelli seems unsure whether to condone what he labels as "cruelty" or to condemn it. He seems to take a certain pleasure in recounting the wicked deeds of an Agathocles or an Oliverotto da Fermo; what these men did is indefensible, and yet it worked. Machiavelli, ever the theoretician, proceeds to meditate on why it worked. He nearly traps himself in a philosophical cul-de-sac when, about to explain what he means by well-used cruelty, he writes: "if it's permissible to say good words about something which is evil in itself." Why are the actions of Agathocles and Oliverotto evil, while those of Cesare Borgia are not? We are reminded of Borgia, since it was he who lured Oliverotto to his death. Never would Machiavelli refer to Borgia as a criminal prince, yet he murdered the leaders of rival factions to clear the way for his own ascent, much as did Agathocles and Oliverotto, and he made an example of his lieutenant general after using him to pacify his kingdom, just to save face. To Machiavelli, this is cleverness at its best: actions justified by their very brilliance. It's not hard to see why everyone from Macbeth to the Corleone family to Stalin have been labeled Machiavellian at various junctures. But would Machiavelli approve? It seems that because the deeds of Agathocles and Oliverotto reflected not so much urgent necessity as a kind of deep-seated bloodlust, they are distinguishable from Borgia's moves. Whatever the reasoning, Machiavelli's distinction is notable. Machiavelli has not touched the bottom of this particular well, in later chapters continues to examine the line between justifiable and unjustifiable cruelty. Nonetheless, what emerges at this juncture in The Prince is the simple assertion, fundamental to the book's argument, that some cruelty is good and some is not. This rejection of the categorical in favor of the relative or comparative is an important one: there is a sense in which the contradictions in Machiavelli's theorizing may reflect his own uncertainty as to when cruelty can be excused. It is worth remembering that he was imprisoned and tortured prior to writing The Prince; without lashing out at the Medici family, he does, in his introductory letter, suggest that the cruelty he experienced was unjustified: "you  will recognize how unjustly I suffer the bitter and sustained malignity of fortune." The exile rails against the cruelty carried out against him while defending the cruelty of past princes. At the same time, he refers to historical figures such as Agathocles as wicked men; he writes that people should either be "caressed or destroyed," and then later turns around and argues that the common people are honest  and more noble in their sentiments than the nobles. None of these various positions constitutes a complete about-face vis-a-vis an earlier position, but the shifting of rhetoric and the slipperiness of Machiavelli's tone does suggest that he himself has not finished grappling with what is perhaps the most fundamental question of all: when do the ends no longer justify the means?


It is necessary to consider another point in examining the character of
these principalities: that is, whether a prince has such power that, in
case of need, he can support himself with his own resources, or whether
he has always need of the assistance of others. And to make this quite
clear I say that I consider those who are able to support themselves by
their own resources who can, either by abundance of men or money, raise
a sufficient army to join battle against any one who comes to attack
them; and I consider those always to have need of others who cannot
show themselves against the enemy in the field, but are forced to
defend themselves by sheltering behind walls. The first case has been
discussed, but we will speak of it again should it recur. In the second
case one can say nothing except to encourage such princes to provision
and fortify their towns, and not on any account to defend the country.
And whoever shall fortify his town well, and shall have managed the
other concerns of his subjects in the way stated above, and to be often
repeated, will never be attacked without great caution, for men are
always adverse to enterprises where difficulties can be seen, and it
will be seen not to be an easy thing to attack one who has his town well
fortified, and is not hated by his people.

The cities of Germany are absolutely free, they own but little country
around them, and they yield obedience to the emperor when it suits
them, nor do they fear this or any other power they may have near them,
because they are fortified in such a way that every one thinks the
taking of them by assault would be tedious and difficult, seeing they
have proper ditches and walls, they have sufficient artillery, and they
always keep in public depots enough for one year's eating, drinking, and
firing. And beyond this, to keep the people quiet and without loss to
the state, they always have the means of giving work to the community
in those labours that are the life and strength of the city, and on
the pursuit of which the people are supported; they also hold military
exercises in repute, and moreover have many ordinances to uphold them.

Therefore, a prince who has a strong city, and had not made himself
odious, will not be attacked, or if any one should attack he will only
be driven off with disgrace; again, because that the affairs of this
world are so changeable, it is almost impossible to keep an army a whole
year in the field without being interfered with. And whoever should
reply: If the people have property outside the city, and see it burnt,
they will not remain patient, and the long siege and self-interest will
make them forget their prince; to this I answer that a powerful and
courageous prince will overcome all such difficulties by giving at one
time hope to his subjects that the evil will not be for long, at another
time fear of the cruelty of the enemy, then preserving himself adroitly
from those subjects who seem to him to be too bold.

Further, the enemy would naturally on his arrival at once burn and ruin
the country at the time when the spirits of the people are still hot and
ready for the defence; and, therefore, so much the less ought the prince
to hesitate; because after a time, when spirits have cooled, the damage
is already done, the ills are incurred, and there is no longer any
remedy; and therefore they are so much the more ready to unite with
their prince, he appearing to be under obligations to them now that
their houses have been burnt and their possessions ruined in his
defence. For it is the nature of men to be bound by the benefits they
confer as much as by those they receive. Therefore, if everything is
well considered, it will not be difficult for a wise prince to keep the
minds of his citizens steadfast from first to last, when he does not
fail to support and defend them.

Chapter X is entitled "How to Measure the Strength of Any Prince's State. Here Machiavelli adopts a decidedly militaristic tone. Princes, he writes, are better off when they can assemble an army and stand up against attackers; once again, Cesare Borgia is cited as a perfect example. Machiavelli addresses the majority of this chapter to the other class of princes: "those who can't take the field against their foes, but have to hide behind their walls and defend themselves there. What should these more vulnerable princes do. They should keep their cities well-fortified; they should ignore the rural areas and focus their defense efforts on the urban centers; and they should be careful not to earn the people's hatred. A prudent prince is able to keep his subjects loyal to him and in good spirits during a siege. The burden during a siege is often on the besieger; he can almost never afford to wage a siege and do nothing else for a year. Defense, therefore, can consist of slowing the attacker down, wearing him out. Machiavelli cites the cities in Germany as examples of good fortification. These cities have moats, walls, artillery, public warehouses of food, drink, and fuel, and large supplies of raw materials in reserve to keep workers busy and economies going during a siege

Leo was a Medici, and Machiavelli's compliment of him is obviously half-hearted; it seems to barely disguise Machiavelli's contempt for the Church. It is not for nothing that Machiavelli is so often dubbed a "secular" humanist: his focus on the free will of princes, the ways in which their own characters and decisions dictate the success or failure of their reigns, implicitly rejects any notion of divine rule. But The Prince was written for a Medici, in part as a way of currying favor with the family, and Machiavelli therefore had to be sure to refer to Pope Leo only in glowing terms. And yet, when one compares his praise of the pope to his praise of other political leaders, the former pales in comparison. The "countless other talents" are not enumerated, and there is more emphasis on the greatness of "predecessors" than on that of the Pope himself. It is also intriguing that Machiavelli should follow a chapter explicitly devoted to fortifying cities and other such military matters with one on ecclesiastical states - which, he notes, find such strength in religion that they hardly need to be unified or defended by force. "These are the only princes," Machiavelli notes, "who have states that they do not defend and subjects that they do not govern; the states, though undefended, are never taken from them, and the subjects, though ungoverned, neither protest, not try to break away, nor could revolt if they had a mind to." Machiavelli continues with a dismissal of such states, though admittedly "happy and safe governments," as undeserving of his interest: "But since they are ruled by a heavenly providence to which human reason cannot reach, I shall say nothing of them. Instituted as they are by God, and sustained by him, it would be a rash and imprudent man who ventured to discuss them." Machiavelli is drawing a clear distinction between that which men can control and that which they cannot - a topic that he delves into at greater length later in The Prince. For now, there is much to be considered in his assertion that the subjects of an ecclesiastical state could not "revolt if they had a mind to." Why not? On the one hand, Machiavelli implicitly accepts the Church as a purveyor of divinity; these states are indeed "instituted" by God, and are thus beyond analysis. On the other hand, his earlier examination of various popes' political maneuvers and the machinations at play within the Church  belies such an uncritical view. There also remains the following question: does Machiavelli distance himself from the Church as a subject of analysis and critique because it is divine and therefore beyond fault, or because he is uninterested in it? The focus of so much of The Prince - and a prevalent theme throughout the Renaissance - is reason. Machiavelli continually refers to the "prudent" prince; he outlines the choices that face a prince, and addresses decisions as if he were speaking of medicine - even going so far as to compare pre-emptive war to a doctor treating a malady before it has time to grow and worsen. Power, for Machiavelli, can be attained purely through the faculties of the mind. Yes, armies are necessary, friends in high places can help, and luck plays a role, but it takes reason to determine what kind of army to use, to know when and when not to rely on friends, to know who to trust, and to know how to harness the vicissitudes of fortune. When Machiavelli writes that "human reason" cannot reach a certain state or kingdom, he therefore may be delivering a not-so-veiled insult not to religion itself, but to the state. These hints are buttressed by Machiavelli's other writings. In his famous Discorsi, for example, Machiavelli lambasts the Church's role in politics, bemoaning its decadence and writing, "And certainly, if the Christian religion had from the beginning been maintained according to the principles of its founder, the Christian states and republics would be much more united and happy than in fact they are." At the same time, Machiavelli does argue that religion deserves an importance place in society. To his mind, however, the Church abuses its status, and is guilty moreover of what is to him a cardinal sin: keeping Italy divided and stalling her unification.

How the Strength of All Principalities Should Be Measured Although a prince should always aim to keep an army of size and strength equaling that of any aggressor, it is just as important to maintain defenses and fortifications. These defensive preparations not only provide security but also deter enemies from attacking. Some might argue that if an enemy lays siege to a fortified city, the people inside, upon witnessing their countryside pillaged and possessions destroyed, will turn against their prince. But a prince who has made adequate defensive preparations can actually inspire his subjects during such times. To do so, he must convince the people that the hardships are only temporary and, more importantly, create feelings of patriotism and enthusiasm for the city's defense. This way, when the siege is over, the grateful and obliged people will love the prince all the more