machiavelli with an introduction by henry cust. m.p. volume i the art of war translated by peter whitehorne the prince translated by edward dacres london published by david nutt at the sign of the phoenix long acre edinburgh: t. and a. constable, printers to his majesty to my friend charles whibley h.c. introduction [sidenote: the life of a day.] 'i am at my farm; and, since my last misfortunes, have not been in florence twenty days. i spent september in snaring thrushes; but at the end of the month, even this rather tiresome sport failed me. i rise with the sun, and go into a wood of mine that is being cut, where i remain two hours inspecting the work of the previous day and conversing with the woodcutters, who have always some trouble on hand amongst themselves or with their neighbours. when i leave the wood, i go to a spring, and thence to the place which i use for snaring birds, with a book under my arm--dante or petrarch, or one of the minor poets, like tibullus or ovid. i read the story of their passions, and let their loves remind me of my own, which is a pleasant pastime for a while. next i take the road, enter the inn door, talk with the passers-by, inquire the news of the neighbourhood, listen to a variety of matters, and make note of the different tastes and humours of men. 'this brings me to dinner-time, when i join my family and eat the poor produce of my farm. after dinner i go back to the inn, where i generally find the host and a butcher, a miller, and a pair of bakers. with these companions i play the fool all day at cards or backgammon: a thousand squabbles, a thousand insults and abusive dialogues take place, while we haggle over a farthing, and shout loud enough to be heard from san casciano. 'but when evening falls i go home and enter my writing-room. on the threshold i put off my country habits, filthy with mud and mire, and array myself in royal courtly garments. thus worthily attired, i make my entrance into the ancient courts of the men of old, where they receive me with love, and where i feed upon that food which only is my own and for which i was born. i feel no shame in conversing with them and asking them the reason of their actions. 'they, moved by their humanity, make answer. for four hours' space i feel no annoyance, forget all care; poverty cannot frighten, nor death appal me. i am carried away to their society. and since dante says "that there is no science unless we retain what we have learned" i have set down what i have gained from their discourse, and composed a treatise, _de principalibus_, in which i enter as deeply as i can into the science of the subject, with reasonings on the nature of principality, its several species, and how they are acquired, how maintained, how lost. if you ever liked any of my scribblings, this ought to suit your taste. to a prince, and especially to a new prince, it ought to prove acceptable. therefore i am dedicating it to the magnificence of giuliano.' [sidenote: niccolò machiavelli.] such is the account that niccolò machiavelli renders of himself when after imprisonment, torture, and disgrace, at the age of forty-four, he first turned to serious writing. for the first twenty-six or indeed twenty-nine of those years we have not one line from his pen or one word of vaguest information about him. throughout all his works written for publication, there is little news about himself. montaigne could properly write, 'ainsi, lecteur, je suis moy-mesme la matière de mon livre.' but the matter of machiavelli was far other: 'io ho espresso quanto io so, e quanto io ho imparato per una lunga pratica e continua lezione delle cose del mondo.' [sidenote: the man.] machiavelli was born on the rd of may . the period of his life almost exactly coincides with that of cardinal wolsey. he came of the old and noble tuscan stock of montespertoli, who were men of their hands in the eleventh century. he carried their coat, but the property had been wasted and divided. his forefathers had held office of high distinction, but had fallen away as the new wealth of the bankers and traders increased in florence. he himself inherited a small property in san casciano and its neighbourhood, which assured him a sufficient, if somewhat lean, independence. of his education we know little enough. he was well acquainted with latin, and knew, perhaps, greek enough to serve his turn. 'rather not without letters than lettered,' varchi describes him. that he was not loaded down with learned reading proved probably a great advantage. the coming of the french, and the expulsion of the medici, the proclamation of the republic ( ), and later the burning of savonarola convulsed florence and threw open many public offices. it has been suggested, but without much foundation, that some clerical work was found for machiavelli in or even earlier. it is certain that on july , , he was appointed chancellor and secretary to the dieci di libertà e pace, an office which he held till the close of his political life at fall of the republic in . [sidenote: official life.] the functions of his council were extremely varied, and in the hands of their secretary became yet more diversified. they represented in some sense the ministry for home, military, and especially for foreign affairs. it is impossible to give any full account of machiavelli's official duties. he wrote many thousands of despatches and official letters, which are still preserved. he was on constant errands of state through the florentine dominions. but his diplomatic missions and what he learned by them make the main interest of his office. his first adventure of importance was to the court of caterina sforza, the lady of forlì, in which matter that astute countess entirely bested the teacher of all diplomatists to be. in he smelt powder at the siege at pisa, and was sent to france to allay the irritations of louis xii. many similar and lesser missions follow. the results are in no case of great importance, but the opportunities to the secretary of learning men and things, intrigue and policy, the court and the gutter were invaluable. at the camp of cæsar borgia, in , he found in his host that fantastic hero whom he incarnated in _the prince_, and he was practically an eye-witness of the amazing masterpiece, the massacre of sinigaglia. the next year he is sent to rome with a watching brief at the election of julius ii., and in is again sent to negotiate with the pope. an embassy to the emperor maximilian, a second mission to the french king at blois, in which he persuades louis xii. to postpone the threatened general council of the church ( ), and constant expeditions to report upon and set in order unrestful towns and provinces did not fulfil his activity. his pen was never idle. reports, despatches, elaborate monographs on france, germany, or wherever he might be, and personal letters innumerable, and even yet unpublished, ceased not night nor day. detail, wit, character-drawing, satire, sorrow, bitterness, all take their turn. but this was only a fraction of his work. by duty and by expediency he was bound to follow closely the internal politics of florence where his enemies and rivals abounded. and in all these years he was pushing forward and carrying through with unceasing and unspeakable vigour the great military dream of his life, the foundation of a national militia and the extinction of mercenary companies. but the fabric he had fancied and thought to have built proved unsubstantial. the spoilt half-mutinous levies whom he had spent years in odious and unwilling training failed him at the crowning moment in strength and spirit: and the fall of the republic implied the fall of machiavelli and the close of his official life. he struggled hard to save himself, but the wealthy classes were against him, perhaps afraid of him, and on them the medici relied. for a year he was forbidden to leave florentine territory, and for a while was excluded from the palazzo. later his name was found in a list of anti-medicean conspirators. he was arrested and decorously tortured with six turns of the rack, and then liberated for want of evidence. [sidenote: after his fall.] for perhaps a year after his release the secretary engaged in a series of tortuous intrigues to gain the favour of the medici. many of the stories may be exaggerated, but none make pleasant reading, and nothing proved successful. his position was miserable. temporarily crippled by torture, out of favour with the government, shunned by his friends, in deep poverty, burdened with debt and with a wife and four children, his material circumstances were ill enough. but, worse still, he was idle. he had deserved well of the republic, and had never despaired of it, and this was his reward. he seemed to himself a broken man. he had no great natural dignity, no great moral strength. he profoundly loved and admired dante, but he could not for one moment imitate him. he sought satisfaction in sensuality of life and writing, but found no comfort. great things were stirring in the world and he had neither part nor lot in them. by great good fortune he began a correspondence with his friend francesco vettori, the medicean ambassador at rome, to whom he appeals for his good offices: 'and if nothing can be done, i must live as i came into the world, for i was born poor and learnt to want before learning to enjoy.' before long these two diplomats had co-opted themselves into a kind of secret cabinet of europe. it is a strange but profoundly interesting correspondence, both politically and personally. nothing is too great or too small, too glorious or too mean for their pens. amid foolish anecdotes and rather sordid love affairs the politics of europe, and especially of italy, are dissected and discussed. leo x. had now plunged into political intrigue. ferdinand of spain was in difficulty. france had allied herself with venice. the swiss are the ancient romans, and may conquer italy. then back again, or rather constant throughout, the love intrigues and the 'likely wench hard-by who may help to pass our time.' but through it all there is an ache at machiavelli's heart, and on a sudden he will break down, crying, però se aleuna volta io rido e canto facciol, perchè non ho se non quest' una via da sfogare il mio angoscioso pianto. vettori promised much, but nothing came of it. by the correspondence died away, and the ex-secretary found for himself at last the true pathway through his vale of years. [sidenote: the true life.] the remainder of machiavelli's life is bounded by his books. he settled at his villa at san casciano, where he spent his day as he describes in the letter quoted at the beginning of this essay. in he began to attend the meetings of the literary club in the orti oricellarii, and made new and remarkable friends. 'era amato grandamente da loro ... e della sua conversazione si dilettavano maravigliosamente, tenendo in prezzo grandissimo tutte l'opere sue,' which shows the personal authority he exercised. occasionally he was employed by florentine merchants to negotiate for them at venice, genoa, lucca, and other places. in cardinal medici deigned to consult him as to the government, and commissioned him to write the history of florence. but in the main he wrote his books and lived the daily life we know. in he went to rome to present his history to clement vii., and was sent on to guicciardini. in he was busy once more with military matters and the fortification of florence. on the nd of june he died at florence immediately after the establishment of the second republic. he had lived as a practising christian, and so died, surrounded by his wife and family. wild legends grew about his death, but have no foundation. a peasant clod in san casciano could not have made a simpler end. he was buried in the family chapel in santa croce, and a monument was there at last erected with the epitaph by doctor ferroni--'tanto nomini nullum par elogium.' the first edition of his complete works was published in , and was dedicated to lord cowper. [sidenote: his character.] what manner of man was machiavelli at home and in the market-place? it is hard to say. there are doubtful busts, the best, perhaps, that engraved in the 'testina' edition of , so-called on account of the portrait. 'of middle height, slender figure, with sparkling eyes, dark hair, rather a small head, a slightly aquiline nose, a tightly closed mouth: all about him bore the impress of a very acute observer and thinker, but not that of one able to wield much influence over others.' such is a reconstruction of him by one best able to make one. 'in his conversation,' says varchi, 'machiavelli was pleasant, serviceable to his friends, a friend of virtuous men, and, in a word, worthy to have received from nature either less genius or a better mind.' if not much above the moral standard of the day he was certainly not below it. his habits were loose and his language lucid and licentious. but there is no bad or even unkind act charged against him. to his honesty and good faith he very fairly claims that his poverty bears witness. he was a kind, if uncertain, husband and a devoted father. his letters to his children are charming. here is one written soon before his death to his little son guido.--'guido, my darling son, i received a letter of thine and was delighted with it, particularly because you tell me of your full recovery, the best news i could have. if god grants life to us both i expect to make a good man of you, only you must do your fair share yourself.' guido is to stick to his books and music, and if the family mule is too fractious, 'unbridle him, take off the halter and turn him loose at montepulciano. the farm is large, the mule is small, so no harm can come of it. tell your mother, with my love, not to be nervous. i shall surely be home before any trouble comes. give a kiss to baccina, piero, and totto: i wish i knew his eyes were getting well. be happy and spend as little as you may. christ have you in his keeping.'--there is nothing exquisite or divinely delicate in this letter, but there are many such, and they were not written by a bad man, any more than the answers they evoke were addressed to one. there is little more save of a like character that is known of machiavelli the man. but to judge him and his work we must have some knowledge of the world in which he was to move and have his being. * * * * * [sidenote: state of italy.] at the beginning of the sixteenth century italy was rotten to the core. in the close competition of great wickedness the vicar of christ easily carried off the palm, and the court of alexander vi. was probably the wickedest meeting-place of men that has ever existed upon earth. no virtue, christian or pagan, was there to be found; little art that was not sensuous or sensual. it seemed as if bacchus and venus and priapus had come to their own again, and yet rome had not ceased to call herself christian. [sidenote: superstition.] 'owing to the evil ensample of the papal court,' writes machiavelli, 'italy has lost all piety and all religion: whence follow infinite troubles and disorders; for as religion implies all good, so its absence implies the contrary. to the church and priests of rome we owe another even greater disaster which is the cause of her ruin. i mean that the church has maintained, and still maintains italy divided.' the papacy is too weak to unite and rule, but strong enough to prevent others doing so, and is always ready to call in the foreigner to crush all italians to the foreigner's profit, and guicciardini, a high papal officer, commenting on this, adds, 'it would be impossible to speak so ill of the roman court, but that more abuse should not be merited, seeing it is an infamy, and example of all the shames and scandals of the world.' the lesser clergy, the monks, the nuns followed, with anxious fidelity, the footsteps of their shepherds. there was hardly a tonsure in italy which covered more than thoughts and hopes of lust and avarice. religion and morals which god had joined together, were set by man a thousand leagues asunder. yet religion still sat upon the alabaster throne of peter, and in the filthy straw of the meanest calabrian confessional. and still deeper remained a blind devoted superstition. vitellozzo vitelli, as machiavelli tells us, while being strangled by cæesar borgia's assassin, implored his murderer to procure for him the absolution of that murderer's father. gianpaolo baglioni, who reigned by parricide and lived in incest, was severely blamed by the florentines for not killing pope julius ii. when the latter was his guest at perugia. and when gabrino fondato, the tyrant of cremona, was on the scaffold, his only regret was that when he had taken his guests, the pope and emperor, to the top of the cremona tower, four hundred feet high, his nerve failed him and he did not push them both over. upon this anarchy of religion, morals, and conduct breathed suddenly the inspiring breath of pagan antiquity which seemed to the italian mind to find its finest climax in tyrannicide. there is no better instance than in the plot of the pazzi at florence. francesco pazzi and bernardo bandini decided to kill lorenzo and giuliano de' medici in the cathedral at the moment of the elevation of the host. they naturally took the priest into their confidence. they escorted giuliano to the duomo, laughing and talking, and playfully embraced him--to discover if he wore armour under his clothes. then they killed him at the moment appointed. [sidenote: pagan influence.] nor were there any hills from which salvation might be looked for. philosophy, poetry, science, expressed themselves in terms of materialism. faith and hope are ever the last survivors in the life of a man or of a nation. but in italy these brave comforters were at their latest breath. it is perhaps unfair to accept in full the judgment of northern travellers. the conditions, training, needs of england and germany were different. in these countries courage was a necessity, and good faith a paying policy. subtlety could do little against a two-handed sword in the hands of an angry or partially intoxicated giant. climate played its part as well as culture, and the crude pleasures and vices of the north seemed fully as loathsome to the refined italian as did the tortuous policy and the elaborate infamies of the south to their rough invaders. alone, perhaps, among the nations of europe the italians had never understood or practised chivalry, save in such select and exotic schools as the casa gioiosa under vittorino da feltre at mantua. the oath of arthur's knights would have seemed to them mere superfluity of silliness. _onore_ connoted credit, reputation, and prowess. _virtù_, which may be roughly translated as mental ability combined with personal daring, set the standard and ruled opinion. 'honour in the north was subjective: _onore_ in italy objective.' individual liberty, indeed, was granted in full to all, at the individual's risk. the love of beauty curbed grossness and added distinction. fraud became an art and force a science. there is liberty for all, but for the great ones there is licence. and when the day of trial comes, it is the churchmen and the princes who can save neither themselves nor man, nor thing that is theirs. to such a world was machiavelli born. to whom should he turn? to the people? to the church? to the princes and despots? but hear him:-- 'there shall never be found any good mason, which will beleeve to be able to make a faire image of a peece of marble ill hewed, but verye well of a rude peece. our italian princes beleeved, before they tasted the blowes of the outlandish warre, that it should suffice a prince to know by writinges, how to make a subtell aunswere, to write a goodly letter, to shewe in sayinges, and in woordes, witte and promptenesse, to know how to canvas a fraude, to decke themselves with precious stones and gold, to sleepe and to eate with greater glory then other: to kepe many lascivious persons about them, to governe themselves with their subjects, covetously and proudely: to roote in idlenes, to give the degrees of the exercise of warre for good will, to dispise if any should have shewed them any laudable waie, minding that their wordes should bee aunswers of oracles: nor the sely wretches were not aware that they prepared themselves to be a pray to whome so ever should assaulte them. hereby grew then in the thousand fowre hundred and nintie and fowre yere, the great feares, the sodaine flightes and the marveilous losses: and so three most mighty states which were in italie, have bene dievers times sacked and destroyed. but that which is worse, is where those that remaine, continue in the very same errour, and liev in the verie same disorder and consider not, that those who in olde time would keepe their states, caused to be done these thinges, which of me hath beene reasoned, and that their studies were, to prepare the body to diseases, and the minde not to feare perills. whereby grewe that cæsar, alexander, and all those men and excellent princes in olde time, were the formost amongst the fighters, going armed on foote: and if they lost their state, they would loose their life, so that they lievd and died vertuously.' such was the clay that waited the moulding of the potter's hand. 'posterity, that high court of appeal, which is never tired of eulogising its own justice and discernment,' has recorded harsh sentence on the florentine. it is better to-day to let him speak for himself. [sidenote: _the prince_.] the slender volume of _the prince_ has probably produced wider discussion, more bitter controversy, more varied interpretations and a deeper influence than any book save holy writ. kings and statesmen, philosophers and theologians, monarchists and republicans have all and always used or abused it for their purposes. written in , the first year of machiavelli's disgrace, concurrently with part of the _discorsi_, which contain the germs of it, the book represents the fulness of its author's thought and experience. it was not till after machiavelli's death, that it was published in , by order of clement vii. meanwhile, however, in manuscript it had been widely read and favourably received. [sidenote: its purpose.] the mere motive of its creation and dedication has been the theme of many volumes. machiavelli was poor, was idle, was out of favour, and therefore, though a republican, wrote a devilish hand-book of tyranny to strengthen the medici and recover his position. machiavelli, a loyal republican, wrote a primer of such fiendish principles as might lure the medici to their ruin. machiavelli's one idea was to ruin the rich: machiavelli's one idea was to oppress the poor: he was a protestant, a jesuit, an atheist: a royalist and a republican. and the book published by one pope's express authority was utterly condemned and forbidden, with all its author's works, by the express command of another ( ). but before facing the whirlwind of savage controversy which raged and rages still about _the prince_, it may be well to consider shortly the book itself--consider it as a new book and without prejudice. the purpose of its composition is almost certainly to be found in the plain fact that machiavelli, a politician and a man of letters, wished to write a book upon the subject which had been his special study and lay nearest to his business and bosom. to ensure prominence for such a book, to engage attention and incidentally perhaps to obtain political employment for himself, he dedicated it to lorenzo de' medici, the existing and accepted chief of the state. but far and above such lighter motives stood the fact that he saw in lorenzo the only man who might conceivably bring to being the vast dream of patriotism which the writer had imagined. the subject he proposed to himself was largely, though not wholly, conditioned by the time and place in which he lived. he wrote for his countrymen and he wrote for his own generation. he had heard with his ears and seen with his eyes the alternate rending anarchy and moaning paralysis of italy. he had seen what agricola had long before been spared the sight of. and what he saw, he saw not through a glass darkly or distorted, but in the whitest, driest light, without flinching and face to face. 'we are much beholden,' writes bacon, 'to machiavelli and others that wrote what men do, and not what they ought to do.' he did not despair of italy, he did not despair even of italian unity. but he despaired of what he saw around him, and he was willing at almost any price to end it. he recognised, despite the nominal example of venice, that a republican system was impossible, and that the small principalities and free cities were corrupt beyond hope of healing. a strong central unifying government was imperative, and at that day such government could only be vested in a single man. for it must ever be closely remembered, as will be pointed out again, that throughout the book the prince is what would now be called the government. and then he saw with faithful prophecy, in the splendid peroration of his hope, a hope deferred for near four hundred years, he saw beyond the painful paths of blood and tyranny, a vision of deliverance and union. for at least it is plain that in all things machiavelli was a passionate patriot, and _amo la patria mia più dell' anima_ is found in one of the last of many thousand letters that his untiring pen had written. the purpose, then, of _the prince_ is to lay down rules, within the possibilities of the time, for the making of a man who shall create, increase, and maintain a strong and stable government. this is done in the main by a plain presentation of facts, a presentation condensed and critical but based on men and things as they actually were. the ethical side is wholly omitted: the social and economical almost entirely. the aspect is purely political, with the underlying thought, it may be supposed, that under the postulated government, all else will prosper. [sidenote: the book; new states.] machiavelli opens by discussing the various forms of governments, which he divides into republics and principalities. of the latter some may be hereditary and some acquired. of hereditary states he says little and quotes but one, the duchy of ferrara. he then turns to his true subject, the acquisition and preservation of states wholly new or new in part, states such as he saw himself on every side around him. having gained possession of a new state, he says, you must first extirpate the family of your predecessor. you should then either reside or plant colonies, but not trust to garrisons. 'colonies are not costly to the prince, are more faithful and cause less offence to the subject states: those whom they may injure being poor and scattered, are prevented from doing mischief. for it should be observed that men ought either to be caressed or trampled out, seeing that small injuries may be avenged, whereas great ones destroy the possibility of retaliation: and so the damage that has to be inflicted ought to be such that it need involve no fear of reprisals.' there is perhaps in all machiavelli no better example of his lucid scientific method than this passage. there is neither excuse nor hypocrisy. it is merely a matter of business calculation. mankind is the raw material, the state is the finished work. further you are to conciliate your neighbours who are weak and abase the strong, and you must not let the stranger within your gates. above all look before as well as after and think not to leave it to time, _godere li benefici del tempo_, but, as did the romans, strike and strike at once. for illustration he criticises, in a final and damning analysis, the career of louis xii. in italy. there was no canon of statecraft so absolute that the king did not ignore it, and in inevitable nemesis, there was no ultimate disaster so crowning as not to be achieved. [sidenote: conquests.] after observing that a feudal monarchy is much less easy of conquest than a despotism, since in the one case you must vanquish many lesser lordships while in the other you merely replace slaves by slaves, machiavelli considers the best method of subjugating free cities. here again is eminent the terrible composure and the exact truth of his politics. a conquered free city you may of course rule in person, or you may construct an oligarchy to govern for you, but the only safe way is to destroy it utterly, since 'that name of liberty, those ancient usages of freedom,' are things 'which no length of years and no benefits can extinguish in the nation's mind, things which no pains or forethought can uproot unless the citizens be utterly destroyed.' hitherto the discussion has ranged round the material politics of the matter, the acquisition of material power. machiavelli now turns to the heart of his matter, the proper character and conduct of a new prince in a new principality and the ways by which he shall deal most fortunately with friend and foe. for fortune it is, as well as ability, which go to the making of the man and the maintenance of his power. [sidenote: cæsar borgia.] in the manner of the day moses, cyrus, romulus, and theseus are led across the stage in illustration. the common attribute of all such fortunate masters of men was force of arms, while the mission of an unarmed prophet such as savonarola was foredoomed to failure. in such politics machiavelli is positive and ruthless: force is and must be the remedy and the last appeal, a principle which indeed no later generation has in practice set at naught. but in the hard dry eyes of the florentine secretary stood, above all others, one shining figure, a figure to all other eyes, from then till now, wrapped in mysterious and miasmatic cloud. in the pages of common history he was a tyrant, he was vicious beyond compare, he was cruel beyond the inquisition, he was false beyond the father of lies, he was the antichrist of rome and he was a failure: but he was the hero of niccolò machiavelli, who, indeed, found in cæsar borgia the fine flower of italian politics in the age of the despots. son of the pope, a prince of the church, a duke of france, a master of events, a born soldier, diplomatist, and more than half a statesman, cæsar seemed indeed the darling of gods and men whom original fortune had crowned with inborn ability. machiavelli knew him as well as it was possible to know a soul so tortuous and secret, and he had been present at the most critical and terrible moments of cæsar's life. that in despite of a life which the world calls infamous, in despite of the howling execrations of all christendom, in despite of ultimate and entire failures, machiavelli could still write years after, 'i know not what lessons i could teach a new prince more useful than the example of his actions,' exhibits the ineffaceable impressions that cæsar borgia had made upon the most subtle and observant mind of modern history. [sidenote: cæsar's career.] cæsar was the acknowledged son of pope alexander by his acknowledged mistress vannozza dei cattani. born in , he was an archbishop and a cardinal at sixteen, and the murderer of his elder brother at an age when modern youths are at college. he played his part to the full in the unspeakable scandals of the vatican, but already 'he spoke little and people feared him.' ere long the splendours of the papacy seemed too remote and uncertain for his fierce ambition, and, indeed, through his father, he already wielded both the temporal and the spiritual arms of peter. to the subtlety of the italian his spanish blood had lent a certain stern resolution, and as with julius and sulla the lust for sloth and sensuality were quickened by the lust for sway. he unfrocked himself with pleasure. he commenced politician, soldier, and despot. and for the five years preceding alexander's death he may almost be looked upon as a power in europe. invested duke of romagna, that hot-bed of petty tyranny and tumult, he repressed disorder through his governor messer ramiro with a relentless hand. when order reigned, machiavelli tells us he walked out one morning into the market-place at cesena and saw the body of ramiro, who had borne the odium of reform, lying in two pieces with his head on a lance, and a bloody axe by his side. cæsar reaped the harvest of ramiro's severity, and the people recognising his benevolence and justice were 'astounded and satisfied.' but the gaze of the borgia was not bounded by the strait limits of a mere italian duchy. whether indeed there mingled with personal ambition an ideal of a united italy, swept clean of the barbarians, it is hard to say, though machiavelli would have us believe it. what is certain is that he desired the supreme dominion in italy for himself, and to win it spared neither force nor fraud nor the help of the very barbarians themselves. with a decree of divorce and a cardinal's hat he gained the support of france, the french duchy of valentinois, and the sister of the king of navarre to wife. by largesse of bribery and hollow promises he brought to his side the great families of rome, his natural enemies, and the great condottieri with their men-at-arms. when by their aid he had established and extended his government he mistrusted their good faith. with an infinity of fascination and cunning, without haste and without rest, he lured these leaders, almost more cunning than himself, to visit him as friends in his fortress of sinigaglia. 'i doubt if they will be alive to-morrow morning,' wrote machiavelli, who was on the spot. he was right. cæsar caused them to be strangled the same night, while his father dealt equal measure to their colleagues and adherents in rome. thenceforth, distrusting mercenaries, he found and disciplined out of a mere rabble, a devoted army of his own, and having unobtrusively but completely extirpated the whole families of those whose thrones he had usurped, not only the present but the future seemed assured to him. he had fulfilled the first of machiavelli's four conditions. he rapidly achieved the remaining three. he bought the roman nobles so as to be able to put a bridle in the new 'pope's mouth.' he bought or poisoned or packed or terrorised the existing college of cardinals and selected new princes of the church who should accept a pontiff of his choosing. he was effectively strong enough to resist the first onset upon him at his father's death. five years had been enough for so great an undertaking. one thing alone he had not and indeed could not have foreseen. 'he told me himself on the day on which (pope) julius was created, that he had foreseen and provided for everything else that could happen on his father's death, but had never anticipated that, when his father died, he too should have been at death's door.' even so the fame and splendour of his name for a while maintained his authority against his unnumbered enemies. but soon the great betrayer was betrayed. 'it is well to cheat those who have been masters of treachery,' he had said himself in his hours of brief authority. his wheel had turned full cycle. within three years his fate, like that of charles xii., was destined to a foreign strand, a petty fortress, and a dubious hand. given over to spain he passed three years obscurely. 'he was struck down in a fight at viana in navarre ( ) after a furious resistance: he was stripped of his fine armour by men who did not know his name or quality and his body was left naked on the bare ground, bloody and riddled with wounds. he was only thirty-one.' and so the star of machiavelli's hopes and dreams was quenched for a season in the clouds from which it came. [sidenote: the lesson.] it seems worth while to sketch the strange tempestuous career of cæsar borgia because in the remaining chapters of _the prince_ and elsewhere in his writings, it is the thought and memory of valentinois, transmuted doubtless and idealised by the lapse of years, that largely inform and inspire the perfect prince of machiavelli. but it must not be supposed that in life or in mind they were intimate or even sympathetic. machiavelli criticises his hero liberally and even harshly. but for the work he wanted done he had found no better craftsman and no better example to follow for those that might come after. morals and religion did not touch the purpose of his arguments except as affecting policy. in policy virtues may be admitted as useful agents and in the chapter following that on cæsar, entitled, curiously enough, 'of those who by their crimes come to be princes,' he lays down that 'to slaughter fellow citizens, to betray friends, to be devoid of honour, pity and religion cannot be counted as merits, for these are means which may lead to power but which confer no glory.' cruelty he would employ without hesitation but with the greatest care both in degree and in kind. it should be immediate and complete and leave no possibility of counter-revenge. for it is never forgotten by the living, and 'he deceives himself who believes that, with the great, recent benefits cause old wrongs to be forgotten.' on the other hand 'benefits should be conferred little by little so that they may be more fully relished.' the cruelty proper to a prince (government, for as ever they are identical) aims only at authority. now authority must spring from love or fear. it were best to combine both motives to obedience but you cannot. the prince must remember that men are fickle, and love at their own pleasure, and that men are fearful and fear at the pleasure of the prince. let him therefore depend on what is of himself, not on that which is of others. 'yet if he win not love he may escape hate, and so it will be if he does not meddle with the property or women-folk of his subjects.' when he must punish let him kill. 'for men will sooner forget the death of their father than the loss of their estate.' and moreover you cannot always go on killing, but a prince who has once set himself to plundering will never stop. this is the more needful because the only secure foundation of his rule lies in his trust of the people and in their support. and indeed again and again you shall find no more thorough democrat than this teacher of tyrants. 'the people own better broader qualities, fidelities and passions than any prince and have better cause to show for them.' 'as for prudence and stability, i say that a people is more stable, more prudent, and of better judgment than a prince.' if the people go wrong it is almost certainly the crime or negligence of the prince which drives or leads them astray. 'better far than any number of fortresses is not to be hated by your people.' the support of the people and a national militia make the essential strength of the prince and of the state. [sidenote: national defence.] the chapters on military organisation may be more conveniently considered in conjunction with _the art of war_. it is enough at present to point out two or three observations of machiavelli which touch politics from the military side. to his generation they were entirely novel, though mere commonplace to-day. national strength means national stability and national greatness; and this can be achieved, and can only be achieved, by a national army. the condottiere system, born of sloth and luxury, has proved its rottenness. your hired general is either a tyrant or a traitor, a bully or a coward. 'in a word the armour of others is too wide or too strait for us: it falls off us, or it weighs us down.' and in a fine illustration he compares auxiliary troops to the armour of saul which david refused, preferring to fight goliath with his sling and stone. [sidenote: conduct of the prince.] having assured the external security of the state, machiavelli turns once more to the qualities and conduct of the prince. so closely packed are these concluding chapters that it is almost impossible to compress them further. the author at the outset states his purpose: 'since it is my object to write what shall be useful to whosoever understands it, it seems to me better to follow the practical truth of things rather than an imaginary view of them. for many republics and princedoms have been imagined that were never seen or known to exist in reality. and the manner in which we live and in which we ought to live, are things so wide asunder that he who suits the one to betake himself to the other is more likely to destroy than to save himself.' nothing that machiavelli wrote is more sincere, analytic, positive and ruthless. he operates unflinchingly on an assured diagnosis. the hand never an instant falters, the knife is never blunt. he deals with what is, and not with what ought to be. should the prince be all-virtuous, all-liberal, all-humane? should his word be his bond for ever? should true religion be the master-passion of his life? machiavelli considers. the first duty of the prince (or government) is to maintain the existence, stability, and prosperity of the state. now if all the world were perfect so should the prince be perfect too. but such are not the conditions of human life. an idealising prince must fall before a practising world. a prince must learn in self-defence how to be bad, but like cæsar borgia, he must be a great judge of occasion. and what evil he does must be deliberate, appropriate, and calculated, and done, not selfishly, but for the good of the state of which he is trustee. there is the power of law and the power of force. the first is proper to men, the second to beasts. and that is why achilles was brought up by cheiron the centaur that he might learn to use both natures. a ruler must be half lion and half fox, a fox to discern the toils, a lion to drive off the wolves. merciful, faithful, humane, religious, just, these he may be and above all should seem to be, nor should any word escape his lips to give the lie to his professions: and in fact he should not leave these qualities but when he must. he should, if possible, practise goodness, but under necessity should know how to pursue evil. he should keep faith until occasion alter, or reason of state compel him to break his pledge. above all he should profess and observe religion, 'because men in general judge rather by the eye than by the hand, and every one can see but few can touch.' but none the less, must he learn (as did william the silent, elizabeth of england, and henry of navarre) how to subordinate creed to policy when urgent need is upon him. in a word, he must realise and face his own position, and the facts of mankind and of the world. if not veracious to his conscience, he must be veracious to facts. he must not be bad for badness' sake, but seeing things as they are, must deal as he can to protect and preserve the trust committed to his care. fortune is still a fickle jade, but at least the half our will is free, and if we are bold we may master her yet. for fortune is a woman who, to be kept under, must be beaten and roughly handled, and we see that she is more ready to be mastered by those who treat her so, than by those who are shy in their wooing. and always, like a woman, she gives her favours to the young, because they are less scrupulous and fiercer and more audaciously command her to their will. [sidenote: the appeal.] and so at the last the sometime secretary of the florentine republic turns to the new master of the florentines in splendid exhortation. he points to no easy path. he proposes no mean ambition. he has said already that 'double will that prince's glory be, who has founded a new realm and fortified it and adorned it with good laws, good arms, good friends, and good examples.' but there is more and better to be done. the great misery of men has ever made the great leaders of men. but was israel in egypt, were the persians, the athenians ever more enslaved, down-trodden, disunited, beaten, despoiled, mangled, overrun and desolate than is our italy to-day? the barbarians must be hounded out, and italy be free and one. now is the accepted time. all italy is waiting and only seeks the man. to you the darling of fortune and the church this splendid task is given, to and to the army of italy and of italians only. arm italy and lead her. to you, the deliverer, what gates would be closed, what obedience refused! what jealousies opposed, what homage denied. love, courage, and fixed fidelity await you, and under your standards shall the voice of petrarch be fulfilled: virtu contro al furore prenderà l'arme e fia il combatter corto: chè l'antico valore negl' italici cor non è ancor morto. such is _the prince_ of machiavelli. the vision of its breathless exhortation seemed then as but a landscape to a blind man's eye. but the passing of three hundred and fifty years of the misery he wept for brought at the last, almost in perfect exactness, the fulfilment of that impossible prophecy. [sidenote: the attack.] there is no great book in the world of smaller compass than _the prince_ of machiavelli. there is no book more lucidly, directly, and plainly written. there is no book that has aroused more vehement, venomous, and even truculent controversy from the moment of its publication until to-day. and it is asserted with great probability that _the prince_ has had a more direct action upon real life than any other book in the world, and a larger share in breaking the chains and lighting the dark places of the middle ages. it is a truism to say that machiavellism existed before machiavelli. the politics of gian galeazzo visconti, of louis xi. of france, of ferdinand of spain, of the papacy, of venice, might have been dictated by the author of _the prince_. but machiavelli was the first to observe, to compare, to diagnose, to analyse, and to formulate their principles of government. the first to establish, not a divorce, but rather a judicial separation between the morals of a man and the morals of a government. it is around the purpose and possible results of such a separation in politics, ethics, and religion that the storm has raged most fiercely. to follow the path of that storm through near four centuries many volumes would be needed, and it will be more convenient to deal with the more general questions in summing up the influence of machiavelli as a whole. but the main lines and varying fortunes of the long campaign may be indicated. during the period of its manuscript circulation and for a few years after its publication _the prince_ was treated with favour or at worst with indifference, and the first mutterings were merely personal to the author. he was a scurvy knave and turncoat with neither bowels nor conscience, almost negligible. but still men read him, and a change in conditions brought a change in front. he had in _the prince_, above all in the _discorsi_, accused the church of having ruined italy and debauched the world. in view of the writer's growing popularity, of the reformation and the pagan renaissance, such charges could no longer be lightly set aside. the churchmen opened the main attack. amongst the leaders was cardinal pole, to whom the practical precepts of _the prince_ had been recommended in lieu of the dreams of plato, by thomas cromwell, the _malleus monachorum_ of henry viii. the catholic attack was purely theological, but before long the jesuits joined in the cry. machiavelli was burnt in effigy at ingoldstadt. he was _subdolus diabolicarum cogitationum faber_, and _irrisor et atheos_ to boot. the pope himself gave commissions to unite against him, and his books were placed on the index, together, it must be admitted, with those of boccaccio, erasmus, and savonarola so the company was goodly. but meanwhile, and perhaps in consequence, editions and translations of _the prince_ multiplied apace. the great figures of the world were absorbed by it. charles v., his son, and his courtiers studied the book. catherine de medici brought it to france. a copy of _the prince_ was found on the murdered bodies of henry iii. and henry iv. richelieu praised it. sextus v. analysed it in his own handwriting. it was read at the english court; bacon was steeped in it, and quotes or alludes to it constantly. hobbes and harrington studied it. but now another change. so then, cried innocent gentillet, the huguenot, the book is a primer of despotism and rome, and a grammar for bigots and tyrants. it doubtless is answerable for the massacre of st. bartholomew. the man is a _chien impur_. and in answer to this new huntsman the whole protestant pack crashed in pursuit. within fifty years of his death _the prince_ and machiavelli himself had become a legend and a myth, a haunting, discomforting ghost that would not be laid. machiavellism had grown to be a case of conscience both to catholic and protestant, to theologian, moralist, and philosopher. in spain the author, damned in france for his despotism and popery, was as freshly and freely damned for his civil and religious toleration. in england to the cavaliers he was an atheist, to the roundheads a jesuit. christina of sweden annotated him with enthusiasm. frederick the great published his _anti-machiavel_ brimming with indignation, though it is impossible not to wonder what would have become of prussia had not the prussian king so closely followed in practice the precepts of the florentine, above all perhaps, as voltaire observed, in the publication of the _anti-machiavel_ itself. no doubt in the eighteenth century, when monarchy was so firmly established as not to need machiavelli, kings and statesmen sought to clear kingship of the supposed stain he had besmirched them with. but their reading was as little as their misunderstanding was great, and the florentine secretary remained the mysterious necromancer. it was left for rousseau to describe the book of this 'honnête homme et bon citoyen' as 'le livre des républicains,' and for napoleon, the greatest of the author's followers if not disciples, to draw inspiration and suggestion from his florentine forerunner and to justify the murder of the due d'enghien by a quotation from _the prince_. 'mais après tout,' he said, 'un homme d'etat est-il fait pour être sensible? n'est-ce pas un personnage--complètement excentrique, toujours seul d'un côté, avec le monde de l'autre?' and again 'jugez done s'il doit s'amuser à ménager certaines convenances de sentiments si importantes pour le commun des hommes? peut-il considérer les liens du sang, les affections, les puérils ménagements de la société? et dans la situation où il se trouve, que d'actions séparées de l'ensemble et qu'on blâme, quoiqu'elles doivent contribuer au grand oeuvre que tout le monde n'aperçoit pas? ... malheureux que vous êtes! vous retiendrez vos éloges parce que vous craindrez que le mouvement de cette grande machine ne fasse sur vous l'effet de gulliver, qui, lorsqu'il déplaçait sa jambe, écrasait les lilliputiens. exhortez-vous, devancez le temps, agrandissez votre imagination, regardez de loin, et vous verrez que ces grands personnages que vous croyez violents, cruels, que sais-je? ne sont que des politiques. ils se connaissent, se jugent mieux que vous, et, quand ils sont réellement habiles, ils savent se rendre maîtres de leurs passions car ils vont jusqu'à en calculer les effets.' even in his carriage at waterloo was found a french translation of _the prince_ profusely annotated. [sidenote: the defence.] but from the first the defence was neither idle nor weak. the assault was on the morals of the man: the fortress held for the ideas of the thinker. he does not treat of morals, therefore he is immoral, cried the plaintiff. has he spoken truth or falsehood? is his word the truth and will his truth prevail? was the rejoinder. in germany and italy especially and in france and england in less degree, philosophers and critics have argued and written without stint and without cease. as history has grown wider and more scientific so has the preponderance of opinion leaned to the florentine's favour. it would be impossible to recapitulate the arguments or even to indicate the varying points of view. and indeed the main hindrance in forming a just idea of _the prince_ is the constant treatment of a single side of the book and the preconceived intent of the critic. bacon has already been mentioned. among later names are hobbes, spinoza, leibnitz. herder gives qualified approval, while fichte frankly throws down the glove as _the prince's_ champion. 'da man weiss dass politische machtfragen nie, am wenigsten in einem verderbten volke, mit den mitteln der moral zu lösen sind, so ist es unverständig das buch von fürsten zu verschreien. macchiavelli hatte einen herrscher zu schildern, keinen klosterbruder.' the last sentence may at least be accepted as a last word by practical politicians. ranke and macaulay, and a host of competent germans and italians have lent their thought and pens to solve the riddle in the florentine's favour. and lastly, the course of political events in europe have seemed to many the final justification of the teaching of _the prince_. the leaders of the risorgimento thought that they found in letters, 'writ with a stiletto,' not only the inspirations of patriotism and the aspirations to unity, but a sure and trusted guide to the achievement. germany recognised in the author a schoolmaster to lead them to unification, and a military instructor to teach them of an armed people. half europe snatched at the principle of nationality. for in _the prince_, machiavelli not only begat ideas but fertilised the ideas of others, and whatever the future estimation of the book may be, it stands, read or unread, as a most potent, if not as the dominant, factor in european politics for four hundred years. [sidenote: the _discorsi_.] the _discorsi_, printed in rome by blado, , are not included in the present edition, as the first english translation did not appear until , when almost the entire works of machiavelli were published by an anonymous translator in london. but some account and consideration of their contents is imperative to any review of the florentine's political thoughts. such discorsi and relazioni were not uncommon at the time. the stronger and younger minds of the renaissance wearied of discussing in the lovely gardens of the rucellai the ideas of plato or the allegories of plotinus. the politics of aristotle had just been intelligibly translated by leonardo bruni ( ). and to-day the young ears and eyes of florence were alert for an impulse to action. they saw glimpses, in reopened fields of history, of quarries long grown over where the ore of positive politics lay hid. the men who came to-day to the orti oricellarii were men versed in public affairs, men of letters, historians, poets, living greatly in a great age, with raphael, michael angelo, ariosto, leonardo going up and down amongst them. machiavelli was now in fair favour with the medici, and is described by strozzi as _una persona per sorgere_ (a rising man). he was welcomed into the group with enthusiasm, and there read and discussed the _discorsi_. nominally mere considerations upon the first decade of livy, they rapidly encircled all that was known and thought of policy and state-craft, old and living. [sidenote: their plan.] written concurrently with _the prince_, though completed later, the _discorsi_ contain almost the whole of the thoughts and intents of the more famous book, but with a slightly different application. '_the prince_ traces the progress of an ambitious man, the _discorsi_ the progress of an ambitious people,' is an apt if inadequate criticism. machiavelli was not the first italian who thought and wrote upon the problems of his time. but he was the first who discussed grave questions in modern language. he was the first modern political writer who wrote of men and not of man, for the prince himself is a collective individuality. 'this must be regarded as a general rule,' is ever in machiavelli's mouth, while guicciardini finds no value in a general rule, but only in 'long experience and worthy discretion.' the one treated of policy, the other of politics. guicciardini considered specifically by what methods to control and arrange an existing government. machiavelli sought to create a science, which should show how to establish, maintain, and hinder the decline of states generally conceived. even cavour counted the former as a more practical guide in affairs. but machiavelli was the theorist of humanity in politics, not the observer only. he distinguished the two orders of research. and, during the italian renaissance such distinction was supremely necessary. with a crumbled theology, a pagan pope, amid the wreck of laws and the confusion of social order, _il sue particolare_ and _virtù_, individuality and ability (energy, political genius, prowess, vital force: _virtù_ is impossible to translate, and only does not mean virtue), were the dominating and unrelenting factors of life. niccolò machiavelli, unlike montesquieu, agreed with martin luther that man was bad. it was for both the wittenberger and the florentine, in their very separate ways, to found the school and wield the scourge. in the naked and unashamed candour of the time guicciardini could say that he loathed the papacy and all its works. 'for all that, he adds, 'the preferments i have enjoyed, have forced me for my private ends to set my heart upon papal greatness. were it not for this consideration, i should love martin luther as my second self.' in the _discorsi_, machiavelli bitterly arraigns the church as having 'deprived italians of religion and liberty.' he utterly condemns savonarolà, yet he could love and learn from dante, and might almost have said with pym, 'the greatest liberty of the kingdom is religion. thereby we are freed from spiritual evils, and no impositions are so grievous as those that are laid upon the soul.' [sidenote: religion.] the florentine postulates religion as an essential element in a strong and stable state. perhaps, with gibbon, he deemed it useful to the magistrate. but his science is impersonal. he will not tolerate a church that poaches on his political preserves. good dogma makes bad politics. it must not tamper with liberty or security. and most certainly, with dante, in the _paradiso_, he would either have transformed or omitted the third beatitude, that the meek shall inherit the earth. with such a temperament, machiavelli must ever keep touch with sanity. it was not for him as for aristotle to imagine what an ideal state should be, but rather to inquire what states actually were and what they might actually become. he seeks first and foremost 'the use that may be derived from history in politics'; not from its incidents but from its general principles. his darling model of a state is to be found where dante found it, in the roman republic. the memory and even the substance of dante occur again and again. but dante's inspiration was spiritual: machiavelli's frankly pagan, and with the latter fortune takes the place of god. dante did not love the papacy, but machiavelli, pointing out how even in ancient rome religion was politic or utilitarian, leads up to his famous attack upon the roman church, to which he attributes all the shame and losses, political, social, moral, national, that italy has suffered at her hands. and now for the first time the necessity for italian unity is laid plainly down, and the church and its temporal power denounced as the central obstacles. in religion itself the secretary saw much merit. 'but when it is an absolute question of the welfare of our country, then justice or injustice, mercy or cruelty, praise or ignominy, must be set aside, and we must seek alone whatever course may preserve the existence and liberty of the state.' throughout the _discorsi_, machiavelli in a looser and more expansive form, suggests, discusses, or re-affirms the ideas of _the prince_. there is the same absence of judgment on the moral value of individual conduct; the same keen decision of its practical effect as a political act. but here more than in _the prince_, he deals with the action and conduct of the people. with his passion for personal and contemporary incarnation he finds in the swiss of his day the romans of republican rome, and reiterates the comparison in detail. feudalism, mercenaries, political associations embodied in arts and guilds, the temporal power of the church, all these are put away, and in their stead he announces the new and daring gospel that for organic unity subjects must be treated as equals and not as inferiors. 'trust the people' is a maxim he repeats and enforces again and again. and he does not shrink from, but rather urges the corollary, 'arm the people.' indeed it were no audacious paradox to state the ideal of machiavelli, though he nominally preferred a republic, as a limited monarchy, ruling over a nation in arms. no doubt he sought, as was natural enough in his day, to construct the state from without rather than to guide and encourage its evolution from within. it seemed to him that, in such an ocean of corruption, force _was_ a remedy and fraud no sluttish handmaid. 'vice n'est-ce pas,' writes montaigne, of such violent acts of government, 'car il a quitté sa raison à une plus universelle et puissante raison.' even so the prince and the people could only be justified by results. but the public life is of larger value than the private, and sometimes one man must be crucified for a thousand. despite all prejudice and make-belief, such a rule and practice has obtained from the assemblies of athens to the parliaments of the twentieth century. but machiavelli first candidly imparted it to the unwilling consciences and brains of men, and it is he who has been the chosen scape-goat to carry the sins of the people. his earnestness makes him belie his own precept to keep the name and take away the thing. in this, as in a thousand instances, he was not too darkly hidden; he was too plain. 'machiavelli,' says one who studied the florentine as hardly another had done, 'machiavelli hat gesündigt, aber noch mehr ist gegen ihn gesündigt worden.' liberty is good, but unity is its only sure foundation. it is the way to the unity of government and people that the thoughts both of _the prince_ and the _discorsi_ lead, though the incidents be so nakedly presented as to shock the timorous and vex the prurient, the puritan, and the evil thinker. the people must obey the state and fight and die for its salvation, and for the prince the hatred of the subjects is never good, but their love, and the best way to gain it is by 'not interrupting the subject in the quiet enjoyment of his estate.' even so bland and gentle a spirit as the poet gray cannot but comment, 'i rejoice when i see machiavelli defended or illustrated, who to me appears one of the wisest men that any nation in any age hath produced.' [sidenote: the art of war.] throughout both _the prince_ and the _discorsi_ are constant allusions to, and often long discussions on, military affairs. the army profoundly interested machiavelli both as a primary condition of national existence and stability, and also, as he pondered upon the contrast between ancient rome and the florence that he lived in, as a subject fascinating in itself. his _art of war_ was probably published in . before that date the florentine secretary had had some personal touch both with the theory and practice of war. as a responsible official in the camp before pisa he had seen both siege work and fighting. having lost faith in mercenary forces he made immense attempts to form a national militia, and was appointed chancellor of the nove della milizia. in switzerland and the tyrol he had studied army questions. he planned with pietro navarro the defence of florence and prato against charles v. at verona and mantua in , he closely studied the famous siege of padua. from birth to death war and battles raged all about him, and he had personal knowledge of the great captains of the age. moreover, he saw in italy troops of every country, of every quality, in every stage of discipline, in every manner of formation. his love of ancient rome led him naturally to the study of livy and vegetius, and from them with regard to formations, to the relative values of infantry and cavalry and other points of tactics, he drew or deduced many conclusions which hold good to-day. indeed a german staff officer has written that in reading the florentine you think you are listening to a modern theorist of war. but for the theorist of those days a lion stood in the path. the art of war was not excepted from the quick and thorough transformation that all earthly and spiritual things were undergoing. gunpowder, long invented, was being applied. armour, that, since the beginning, had saved both man and horse, had now lost the half of its virtue. the walls of fortresses, impregnable for a thousand years, became as matchwood ramparts. the mounted man-at-arms was found with wonder to be no match for the lightly-armoured but nimble foot-man. the swiss were seen to hold their own with ease against the knighthood of austria and burgundy. the free companies lost in value and prestige what they added to their corruption and treachery. all these things grew clear to machiavelli. but his almost fatal misfortune was that he observed and wrote in the mid-moment of the transition. he had no faith in fire-arms, and as regards the portable fire-arms of those days he was right. after the artillery work at ravenna, novara, and marignano it is argued that he should have known better. but he was present at no great battles, and pike, spear, and sword had been the stable weapons of four thousand years. these were indeed too simple to be largely modified, and the future of mechanisms and explosives no prophet uninspired could foresee. and indeed the armament and formation of men were not the main intent of machiavelli's thought. his care in detail, especially in fortifications, of which he made a special study, in encampments, in plans, in calculations, is immense. nothing is so trivial as to be left inexact. [sidenote: the new model.] but he centred his observation and imagination on the origin, character, and discipline of an army in being. he pictures the horror, waste, and failure of a mercenary system, and lays down the fatal error in italy of separating civil from military life, converting the latter into a trade. in such a way the soldier grows to a beast, and the citizen to a coward. all this must be changed. the basic idea of this astounding secretary is to form a national army, furnished by conscription and informed by the spirit of the new model of cromwell. all able-bodied men between the ages of seventeen and forty should be drilled on stated days and be kept in constant readiness. once or twice a year each battalion must be mobilised and manoeuvred as in time of war. the discipline must be constant and severe. the men must be not only robust and well-trained, but, above all, virtuous, modest, and disposed to any sacrifice for the public good. so imbued should they be with duty and lofty devotion to their country that though they may rightly deceive the enemy, reward the enemy's deserters and employ spies, yet 'an apple tree laden with fruit might stand untouched in the midst of their encampment.' the infantry should far exceed the cavalry, 'since it is by infantry that battles are won.' secrecy, mobility, and familiarity with the country are to be objects of special care, and positions should be chosen from which advance is safer than retreat. in war this army must be led by one single leader, and, when peace shines again, they must go back contented to their grateful fellow-countrymen and their wonted ways of living. the conception and foundation of such a scheme, at such a time, by such a man is indeed astounding. he broke with the past and with all contemporary organisations. he forecast the future of military europe, though his own italy was the last to win her redemption through his plans. 'taken all in all,' says a german military writer, 'we may recognise machiavelli in his inspired knowledge of the principles of universal military discipline as a true prophet and as one of the weightiest thinkers in the field of military construction and constitution. he penetrated the essence of military technique with a precision wholly alien to his period, and it is, so to say, a new psychological proof of the relationship between the art of war and the art of statecraft, that the founder of modern politics is also the first of modern military classics.' but woe to the florentine secretary with his thoughts born centuries before their time. as in _the prince_, so in the _art of war_, he closes with a passionate appeal of great sorrow and the smallest ray of hope. where shall i hope to find the things that i have told of? what is italy to-day? what are the italians? enervated, impotent, vile. wherefore, 'i lament mee of nature, the which either ought not to have made mee a knower of this, or it ought to have given mee power, to have bene able to have executed it: for now beeing olde, i cannot hope to have any occasion, to be able so to doo: in consideration whereof, i have bene liberall with you who beeing grave young men, may (when the thinges said of me shall please you) at due times, in favoure of your princes, helpe them and counsider them. wherin i would have you not to be afraied, or mistrustfull, because this province seemes to bee altogether given to raise up againe the things deade, as is seene by the perfection that poesie, painting, and writing, is now brought unto: albeit, as much as is looked for of mee, beeing strooken in yeeres, i do mistrust. where surely, if fortune had heretofore graunted mee so much state, as suffiseth for a like enterprise, i would not have doubted, but in most short time, to have shewed to the world, how much the auncient orders availe: and without peradventure, either i would have increased it with glory, or lost it without shame.' [sidenote: _the history of florence_.] in machiavelli was an ageing and disappointed man. he was not popular with any party, but the medici were willing to use him in minor matters if only to secure his adherence. he was commissioned by giulio de medici to write a history of florence with an annual allowance of florins. in he completed his task and dedicated the book to its begetter, pope clement vii. in the history, as in much of his other work, machiavelli enriches the science of humanity with a new department. 'he was the first to contemplate the life of a nation in its continuity, to trace the operation of political forces through successive generations, to contrast the action of individuals with the evolution of causes over which they had but little control, and to bring the salient features of the national biography into relief by the suppression of comparatively unimportant details.' he found no examples to follow, for villani with all his merits was of a different order. diarists and chroniclers there were in plenty, and works of the learned men led by aretino, written in latin and mainly rhetorical. the great work of guicciardini was not published till years after the secretary's death. machiavelli broke away from the chronicle or any other existing form. he deliberately applied philosophy to the sequence of facts. he organised civil and political history. he originally intended to begin his work at the year , the year of the return of cosimo il vecchio from exile and of the consolidation of medicean power on the ground that the earlier periods had been covered by aretino and bracciolini. but he speedily recognised that they told of nothing but external wars and business while the heart of the history of florence was left unbared. the work was to do again in very different manner, and in that manner he did it. throughout he maintains and insistently insinuates his unfailing explanation of the miseries of italy; the necessity of unity and the evils of the papacy which prevents it. in this book dedicated to a pope he scants nothing of his hatred of the holy see. for ever he is still seeking the one strong man in a blatant land with almost absolute power to punish, pull down, and reconstruct on an abiding foundation, for to his clear eyes it is ever the events that are born of the man, and not the man of the events. he was the first to observe that the ghibellines were not only the imperial party but the party of the aristocrats and influential men, whereas the guelphs were the party not only of the church but of the people, and he traces the slow but increasing struggle to the triumph of democracy in the ordinamenti di giustizia ( ). but the triumph was not final. the florentines were 'unable to preserve liberty and could not tolerate slavery.' so the fighting, banishments, bloodshed, cruelty, injustice, began once more. the nobles were in origin germanic, he points out, the people latin; so that a racial bitterness gave accent to their hate. but yet, he adds impartially, when the crushed nobility were forced to change their names and no longer dared be heard 'florence was not only stripped of arms but likewise of all generosity.' it would be impossible to follow the history in detail. the second, seventh and eighth books are perhaps the most powerful and dramatic. outside affairs and lesser events are lightly touched. but no stories in the world have been told with more intensity than those of the conspiracies in the seventh and eighth books, and none have given a more intimate and accurate perception of the modes of thought and feeling at the time. the history ends with the death of lorenzo de medici in . enough has been said of its breadth of scope and originality of method. the spirit of clear flaming patriotism, of undying hope that will not in the darkest day despair, the plangent appeal to italy for its own great sake to rouse and live, all these are found pre-eminently in the history as they are found wherever machiavelli speaks from the heart of his heart. of the style a foreigner may not speak. but those who are proper judges maintain that in simplicity and lucidity, vigour, and power, softness, elevation, and eloquence, the style of machiavelli is 'divine,' and remains, as that of dante among the poets, unchallenged and insuperable among all writers of italian prose. [sidenote: other works.] though machiavelli must always stand as a political thinker, an historian, and a military theorist it would leave an insufficient idea of his mental activities were there no short notice of his other literary works. with his passion for incarnating his theories in a single personality, he wrote the _life of castruccio castracani_, a politico-military romance. his hero was a soldier of fortune born lucca in , and, playing with a free hand, machiavelli weaves a life of adventure and romance in which his constant ideas of war and politics run through and across an almost imaginary tapestry. he seems to have intended to illustrate and to popularise his ideals and to attain by a story the many whom his discourses could not reach. in verse machiavelli was fluent, pungent, and prosaic. the unfinished _golden ass_ is merely made of paragraphs of the _discorsi_ twined into rhymes. and the others are little better. countless pamphlets, essays, and descriptions may be searched without total waste by the very curious and the very leisurely. the many despatches and multitudinous private letters tell the story both of his life and his mind. but the short but famous _novella di belfagor arcidiavolo_ is excellent in wit, satire, and invention. as a playwright he wrote, among many lesser efforts, one supreme comedy, _mandragola_, which macaulay declares to be better than the best of goldoni's plays, and only less excellent than the very best of molière's. italian critics call it the finest play in italian. the plot is not for nursery reading, but there are tears and laughter and pity and anger to furnish forth a copious author, and it has been not ill observed that _mandragola_ is the comedy of a society of which _the prince_ is the tragedy. [sidenote: the end.] it has been said of the italians of the renaissance that with so much of unfairness in their policy, there was an extraordinary degree of fairness in their intellects. they were as direct in thought as they were tortuous in action and could see no wickedness in deceiving a man whom they intended to destroy. to such a charge--if charge it be--machiavelli would have willingly owned himself answerable. he observed, in order to know, and he wished to use his knowledge for the advancement of good. to him the means were indifferent, provided only that they were always apt and moderate in accordance with necessity, a surgeon has no room for sentiment: in such an operator pity were a crime. it is his to examine, to probe, to diagnose, flinching at no ulcer, sparing neither to himself or to his patient. and if he may not act, he is to lay down very clearly the reasons which led to his conclusions and to state the mode by which life itself may be saved, cost what amputation and agony it may. this was machiavelli's business, and he applied his eye, his brains, and his knife with a relentless persistence, which, only because it was so faithful, was not called heroic. and we know that he suffered in the doing of it and that his heart was sore for his patient. but there was no other way. his record is clear and shining. he has been accused of no treachery, of no evil action. his patriotism for italy as a fatherland, a dream undreamt by any other, never glowed more brightly than when italy lay low in shame, and ruin, and despair. his faith never faltered, his spirit never shrank. and the italy that he saw, through dark bursts of storm, broken and sinking, we see to-day riding in the sunny haven where he would have her to be. henry cust. contents page the arte of warre the prince the arte of warre written first in italian by nicholas machiavell and set forthe in englishe by peter whitehorne studient at graies inne with an addicion of other like marcialle feates and experimentes as in a table in the ende of the booke maie appere _menfss. iulij_. to the moste highe, and excellent princes, elizabeth, by the grace of god, quene of englande, fraunce, and irelande, defender of the faithe, and of the churche of englande, and irelande, on yearth next under god, the supreme governour. although commonlie every man, moste worthie and renoumed soveraine, seketh specially to commend and extolle the thing, whereunto he feleth hymself naturally bent and inclined, yet al soche parciallitie and private affection laid aside, it is to bee thought (that for the defence, maintenaunce, and advauncemente of a kyngdome, or common weale, or for the good and due observacion of peace, and administracion of justice in the same) no one thinge to be more profitable, necessarie, or more honourable, then the knowledge of service in warre, and dedes of armes; bicause consideryng the ambicion of the worlde, it is impossible for any realme or dominion, long to continue free in quietnesse and savegarde, where the defence of the sweard is not alwaies in a readinesse. for like as the grekes, beyng occupied aboute triflyng matters, takyng pleasure in resityng of comedies, and soche other vain thinges, altogether neclecting marciall feates, gave occasion to philip kyng of macedonia, father to alexander the great, to oppresse and to bring theim in servitude, under his subjeccion, even so undoubtedly, libertie will not be kepte, but men shall be troden under foote, and brought to moste horrible miserie and calamitie, if thei givyng theim selves to pastymes and pleasure, forssake the juste regarde of their owne defence, and savegarde of their countrie, whiche in temporall regimente, chiefly consisteth in warlike skilfulnesse. and therefore the aunciente capitaines and mightie conquerours, so longe as thei florished, did devise with moste greate diligence, all maner of waies, to bryng their men to the perfect knowledge of what so ever thing appertained to the warre: as manifestly appereth by the warlike games, whiche in old time the princes of grecia ordained, upon the mount olimpus, and also by thorders and exercises, that the aunciente romaines used in sundrie places, and specially in campo martio, and in their wonderful sumptuous theaters, whiche chiefly thei builded to that purpose. whereby thei not onely made their souldiours so experte, that thei obtained with a fewe, in faightyng againste a greate houge multitude of enemies, soche marveilous victories, as in many credible histories are mencioned, but also by the same meanes, their unarmed and rascalle people that followed their campes, gotte soche understandyng in the feates of warre, that thei in the daie of battaile, beeyng lefte destitute of succour, were able without any other help, to set themselves in good order, for their defence againste the enemie, that would seke to hurte theim, and in soche daungerous times, have doen their countrie so good service, that verie often by their helpe, the adversaries have been put to flight, and fieldes moste happely wone. so that thantiquitie estemed nothing more happie in a common weale, then to have in the same many men skilfull in warlike affaires: by meanes whereof, their empire continually inlarged, and moste wonderfully and triumphantly prospered. for so longe as men for their valiauntnesse, were then rewarded and had in estimacion, glad was he that could finde occasion to venter, yea, and spende his life, to benefite his countrie: as by the manly actes that marcus curcius, oracius cocles, and gaius mucius did for the savegarde of rome and also by other innumerable like examples dooeth plainly appeare. but when through long and continuall peace, thei began to bee altogether given to pleasure and delicatenesse, little regardyng marciall feates, nor soche as were expert in the practise thereof: their dominions and estates, did not so moche before increase and prospere, as then by soche meanes and oversight, thei sodainly fell into decaie and utter ruine. for soche truly is the nature and condicion, bothe of peace and warre, that where in governemente, there is not had equalle consideration of them bothe, the one in fine, doeth woorke and induce, the others oblivion and utter abholicion. wherfore, sith the necessitie of the science of warres is so greate, and also the necessarie use thereof so manifeste, that even ladie peace her self, doeth in maner from thens crave her chief defence and preservacion, and the worthinesse moreover, and honour of the same so greate, that as by prose we see, the perfecte glorie therof, cannot easely finde roote, but in the hartes of moste noble couragious and manlike personages, i thought most excellente princes, i could not either to the specialle gratefiyng of your highnesse, the universall delight of all studious gentlemen, or the common utilitie of the publike wealth, imploie my labours more profitablie in accomplishyng of my duetie and good will, then in settyng foorthe some thing, that might induce to the augmentyng and increase of the knowledge thereof: inespecially thexample of your highnes most politike governemente over us, givyng plaine testimonie of the wonderfull prudente desire that is in you, to have your people instructed in this kinde of service, as well for the better defence of your highnesse, theim selves, and their countrie, as also to discourage thereby, and to be able to resist the malingnitie of the enemie, who otherwise would seeke peradventure, to invade this noble realme or kyngdome. when therfore about x. yeres paste, in the emperours warres against the mores and certain turkes beyng in barberie, at the siege and winnyng of calibbia, monesterio and africa, i had as well for my further instruction in those affaires, as also the better to acquainte me with the italian tongue, reduced into englishe, the booke called the arte of warre, of the famous and excellente nicholas machiavell, whiche in times paste he beyng a counsailour, and secretarie of the noble citee of florence, not without his greate laude and praise did write: and havyng lately againe, somwhat perused the same, the whiche in soche continuall broiles and unquietnesse, was by me translated, i determined with my self, by publishyng thereof, to bestowe as greate a gift (sins greater i was not able) emongeste my countrie men, not experte in the italian tongue, as in like woorkes i had seen before me, the frenchemen, duchemen, spaniardes, and other forreine nacions, moste lovyngly to have bestowed emongeste theirs: the rather undoubtedly, that as by private readyng of the same booke, i then felt my self in that knowledge marveilously holpen and increased, so by communicatyng the same to many, our englishemen findyng out the orderyng and disposyng of exploictes of warre therein contained, the aide and direction of these plaine and briefe preceptes, might no lesse in knowledge of warres become incomperable, then in prowes also and exercise of the same, altogether invincible: which my translacion moste gracious soveraine, together with soche other thynges, as by me hath been gathered, and thought good to adde thereunto, i have presumed to dedicate unto youre highnes: not onely bicause the whole charge and furniture of warlike counsailes and preparacions, being determined by the arbitremente of governours and princes, the treatise also of like effecte should in like maner as of right, depende upon the protection of a moste worthie and noble patronesse, but also that the discourse it self, and the woorke of a forrein aucthour, under the passeport and safeconduite of your highnes moste noble name, might by speciall aucthoritie of the same, winne emongest your majesties subjectes, moche better credite and estimacion. and if mooste mightie queen, in this kind of philosophie (if i maie so terme it) grave and sage counsailes, learned and wittie preceptes, or politike and prudente admonicions, ought not to be accompted the least and basest tewels of weale publike. then dare i boldely affirme, that of many straungers, whiche from forrein countries, have here tofore in this your majesties realme arrived, there is none in comparison to bee preferred, before this worthie florentine and italian, who havyng frely without any gaine of exchaunge (as after some acquaintaunce and familiaritie will better appeare) brought with hym moste riche, rare and plentiful treasure, shall deserve i trust of all good englishe lishe hartes, most lovingly and frendly to be intertained, embraced and cherished. whose newe englishe apparell, how so ever it shall seme by me, after a grosse fasion, more fitlie appoincted to the campe, then in nice termes attired to the carpet, and in course clothyng rather putte foorthe to battaile, then in any brave shewe prepared to the bankette, neverthelesse my good will i truste, shall of your grace be taken in good parte, havyng fashioned the phraise of my rude stile, even accordyng to the purpose of my travaile, whiche was rather to profite the desirous manne of warre, then to delight the eares of the fine rethorician, or daintie curious scholemanne: moste humblie besechyng your highnes, so to accept my labour herein, as the first fruictes of a poore souldiours studie, who to the uttermoste of his smalle power, in the service of your moste gracious majestie, and of his countrie, will at al tymes, accordyng to his bounden duetie and allegeaunce, promptlie yeld hym self to any labour, travaile, or daunger, what so ever shal happen. praiyng in the mean season the almightie god, to give your highnes in longe prosperous raigne, perfect health, desired tranquilitie, and against all your enemies, luckie and joifull victorie. your humble subject and dailie oratour, peter whitehorne. the proheme of nicholas machiavell, citezein and secretarie of florence, upon his booke of the arte of warre, unto laurence philippe strozze, one of the nobilitie of florence. there have laurence, many helde, and do holde this opinion, that there is no maner of thing, whiche lesse agreeth the one with the other, nor that is so much unlike, as the civil life to the souldiours. wherby it is often seen, that if any determin in thexercise of that kinde of service to prevaile, that incontinent he doeth not only chaunge in apparel, but also in custome and maner, in voice, and from the facion of all civil use, he doeth alter: for that he thinketh not meete to clothe with civell apparell him, who wil be redie, and promt to all kinde of violence, nor the civell customes, and usages maie that man have, the whiche judgeth bothe those customes to be effeminate, and those usages not to be agreable to his profession: nor it semes not convenient for him to use the civill gesture and ordinarie wordes, who with fasing and blasphemies, will make afraied other menne: the whiche causeth in this time, suche opinion to be moste true. but if thei should consider thauncient orders, there should nothing be founde more united, more confirmable, and that of necessitie ought to love so much the one the other, as these: for as muche as all the artes that are ordeined in a common weale, in regarde or respecte of common profite of menne, all the orders made in the same, to live with feare of the lawe, and of god should be vaine, if by force of armes their defence wer not prepared, which, well ordeined, doe maintain those also whiche be not well ordeined. and likewise to the contrarie the good orders, without the souldiours help, no lesse or otherwise doe disorder, then the habitacion of a sumptuous and roiall palais, although it wer decte with gold and precious stones, when without being covered, should not have wherewith to defende it from the raine. and if in what so ever other orders of cities and kyngdomes, there hath been used al diligence for to maintain men faithfull, peaceable, and full of the feare of god, in the service of warre, it was doubled: if for in what man ought the countrie to seke greater faith, then in him, who must promise to die for the same? in whom ought there to bee more love of peace, then in him, whiche onely by the warre maie be hurte? in whome ought there to bee more feare of god, then in him, which every daie committyng himself to infinite perilles, hath moste neede of his helpe? this necessitie considered wel, bothe of them that gave the lawes to empires, and of those that to the exercise of service wer apoincted, made that the life of souldiours, of other menne was praised, and with all studie folowed and imitated. but the orders of service of war, beyng altogether corrupted, and a greate waie from the auncient maners altered, there hath growen these sinisterous opinions, which maketh men to hate the warlike service, and to flie the conversacion of those that dooe exercise it. albeit i judgeing by the same, that i have seen and redde, that it is not a thyng impossible, to bryng it again to the auncient maners, and to give it some facion of the vertue passed, i have determined to the entente not to passe this my idell time, without doyng some thyng, to write that whiche i doe understande, to the satisfaction of those, who of aunciente actes, are lovers of the science of warre. and although it be a bold thing to intreate of the same matter, wher of otherwise i have made no profession, notwithstanding i beleve it is no errour, to occupie with wordes a degree, the whiche many with greater presumpcion with their deedes have occupied: for as muche as the errours that i maie happen to make by writing, may be without harme to any man corrected: but those the whiche of them be made in doyng cannot be knowen without the ruine of empires. therefore laurence you ought to consider the qualitie of this my laboure, and with your judgement to give it that blame, or that praise, as shall seeme unto you it hath deserved. the whiche i sende unto you, as well to shewe my selfe gratefull, although my habilitie reche not to the benefites, which i have received of you, as also for that beyng the custome to honour with like workes them who for nobilitie, riches, wisedome, and liberalitie doe shine: i knowe you for riches, and nobilitie, not to have many peeres, for wisedome fewe, and for liberalitie none. the arte of warre the table of certain principall thinges, contained in this woorke of machiavel in the firste booke why a good man ought not to exersise warfare as his arte, deedes of armes ought to be used privatly in time of peace for exersise, and in time of warre for necessetie and renoume, the strength of an armie is the footemen, the romaines renued their legions and had men in the flower of their age, whether men of armes ought to be kept, what is requisete for the preparyng of an armie, out of what contrie souldiers ought to be chosen, souldiers ought to bee chosen, by thaucthoritie of the prince, of suche men as be his oune subjectes, the difference of ages, that is to be taken in the chosinge of souldiours for the restoring of an olde power and for the making of a newe, the weapons or power that is prepared, of the naturall subjectes, of a common weale bringeth profit and not hurte, what cause letted the venetians, that they made not a monarchi of the worlde, how an armie maye bee prepared in the countrie, where were no exersise of warre, the custome that the romaines used, in the chosyng of their souldiours, the greater number of men is best, whether the multitude of armed men ar occation of confusion and of dissorder, how to prohibite, that the capitaines make no discension, in the seconde booke what armour the antiquetie used, the occation of the boldenes of the duchemen, whiche maner of armyng menne is better either the duche or romaine fasion, diverse examples of late dayes, an example of tigran, whether the footemen or the horsemen ought to bee estemed moste, the cause whie the romaines were overcome of the parthians, what order, or what vertue maketh, that footemen overcum horsemen, howe the antiquitie exersised their men to learne them to handle their weapons, what the antiquitie estemed moste happie in a common weale, the maner, of maintainyng the order, what a legion is, of grekes called a falange, and of frenchemen catterva, the devision of a legion, and the divers names of orders, the order of batellraye, and the manner of appoincting the battels, how to order, cccc.l. men to doo some severall feate, the fation of a battaile that the suisers make like a crosse, what carriages the capitaines ought to have, and the number of carriages requisite to every band of men, diverse effectes caused of diverse soundes, whereof cometh the utilitie, and the dissorder of the armies that are now a daies, the manner of arminge men, the number of carriages that men of armes and lighte horsemen ought to have, in the thirde booke the greatest dissorder that is used now a dayes in the orderinge of an armie, how the romaines devided their armie in hastati, principi and triarii, the manner that the romaines used to order them selves agayne in the overthrow, the custom of the greekes, a maine battaile of suissers, how manie legions of romaine citesens was in an ordinarie armie, the manner how to pitche a fielde to faighte a battaile, of what number of faighting men an armie oughte to be, the description of a battaile that is a faighting, an exsample of ventidio faighting against the parthians, an example of epaminondas, how the artillerie is unprofitable, how that a maine battaile of suissers cannot ocupie more then fower pikes, how the battailes when thei cum to be eight or ten, maye be receyved in the verie same space, that received the fyve, the armes that the standarde of all tharmie ought to have, divers examples of the antiquetie, in the fowerth booke whether the fronte of the armie ought to bee made large, to how many thinges respecte ought to be had, in the ordringe of an armie, an example of scipio, in what place a capitain maie order his armie with savegarde not to be clene overthrowen, aniball and scipio praised for the orderynge of their armies, cartes used of the asiaticans, diverse examples of the antiquitie, the prudence which the capitaine ought to use, in the accidence that chaunse in faightinge, what a capitaine ought to doo, that is the conqueror, or that is conquered, a capitaine ought not to faighte the battaile, but with advauntage, excepte he be constrained, how to avoide the faightinge of the fielde, advertismentes that the capitaine ought to have, speakyng to souldiers helpeth muche to make them to be curagious and bolde, whether all the armie ought to bee spoken unto, or onely to the heddes thereof, in the fyveth booke the manner how to leade an armie gowinge thorough suspected places, or to incounter the enemie, an example of aniball, wether any thing oughte to bee commaunded with the voise or with the trompet, the occations why the warres made now a dayes, doo impoverish the conquerors as well as the conquered, credite ought not to be given to thinges which stand nothinge with reason, the armie ought not to knowe what the capitaine purposeth to doo, diverse examples, in the sixte booke the maner how to incampe an armie, how brode the spaces and the wayes ought to be within the campe, what waye ought to be used when it is requiset to incampe nere the enemie, how the watche and warde ought to be apoincted in the campe, and what punishmente they ought to have that doo not their dutie, how the romanies prohibited women to be in their armies and idell games to be used, how to incampe accordinge to the nomber of men, and what nomber of menne maie suffise againste, what so ever enemie that wer, how to doo to be assured, of the fideletie of those that are had in suspition, what a capitaine ought to doo beinge beseged of his enemies, example of coriliano and others, it is requiset chiefly for a capitain to kepe his souldiers punished and payed, of aguries, moste excellent advertismentes and pollicies, the occation of the overthrowe of the frenchmen at garigliano, in the seventh booke cities are strong, either by nature or by industrie, the maner of fortificacion, bulwarkes ought not to be made oute of a towne distante from the same, example of genoa, of the countes catherin, the fation of percullesies used in almaine, howe the battelmentes of walles were made at the first, and how thei are made now adaies, the provisions that is mete to bee made, for the defence of a towne, divers pollicies, for the beseginge and defendinge of a toune or fortres, secrete conveing of letters, the defence againste a breache, generall rules of warre, the first booke of the arte of warre of nicholas machiavel, citezein and secretarie of florence, unto laurence philip strozze one of the nobiltie of florence. the first booke forasmuch as i beleve that after death, al men maie be praised without charge, al occasion and suspecte of flatterie beyng taken awaie, i shal not doubte to praise our cosimo ruchellay, whose name was never remembred of me without teares, havyng knowen in him those condicions, the whiche in a good frende or in a citezien, might of his freendes, or of his countrie, be desired: for that i doe not knowe what thyng was so muche his, not excepting any thing (saving his soule) which for his frendes willingly of him should not have been spent: i knowe not what enterprise should have made him afraide, where the same should have ben knowen to have been for the benefite of his countrie. and i doe painly confesse, not to have mette emongest so many men, as i have knowen, and practised withal, a man, whose minde was more inflamed then his, unto great and magnificent thynges. nor he lamented not with his frendes of any thyng at his death, but because he was borne to die a yong manne within his owne house, before he had gotten honour, and accordynge to his desire, holpen any manne: for that he knewe, that of him coulde not be spoken other, savyng that there should be dead a good freende. yet it resteth not for this, that we, and what so ever other that as we did know him, are not able to testifie (seeyng his woorkes doe not appere) of his lawdable qualities. true it is, that fortune was not for al this, so muche his enemie, that it left not some brief record of the readinesse of his witte, as doeth declare certaine of his writinges, and settyng foorthe of amorous verses, wherin (although he were not in love) yet for that he would not consume time in vain, til unto profounder studies fortune should have brought him, in his youthfull age he exercised himselfe. whereby moste plainly maie be comprehended, with how moche felicitie he did describe his conceiptes, and how moche for poetrie he should have ben estemed, if the same for the ende therof, had of him ben exercised. fortune having therfore deprived us from the use of so great a frende, me thinketh there can bee founde no other remedie, then as muche as is possible, to seke to enjoye the memorie of the same, and to repeate suche thynges as hath been of him either wittely saied, or wisely disputed. and for as much as there is nothyng of him more freshe, then the reasonyng, the whiche in his last daies signior fabricio collonna, in his orchard had with him, where largely of the same gentilman were disputed matters of warre, bothe wittely and prudently, for the moste parte of cosimo demaunded, i thought good, for that i was present there with certain other of our frendes, to bring it to memorie, so that reading the same, the frendes of cosimo, whiche thether came, might renewe in their mindes, the remembraunce of his vertue: and the other part beyng sorie for their absence, might partly learne hereby many thynges profitable, not onely to the life of souldiours, but also to civil mennes lives, which gravely of a moste wise man was disputed. therfore i saie, that fabricio collonna retournyng out of lombardie, where longe time greatly to his glorie, he had served in the warres the catholike kyng, he determined, passyng by florence, to rest himself certain daies in the same citee, to visite the dukes excellencie, and to see certaine gentilmen, whiche in times paste he had been acquainted withal. for whiche cause, unto cosimo it was thought beste to bid him into his orchard, not so muche to use his liberalitee, as to have occasion to talke with him at leasure, and of him to understande and to learne divers thinges, accordyng as of suche a man maie bee hoped for, semyng to have accasion to spende a daie in reasonyng of suche matters, which to his minde should best satisfie him. then fabricio came, accordyng to his desire, and was received of cosimo together, with certain of his trustie frendes, emongest whome wer zanoby buondelmonti, baptiste palla, and luigi allamanni, all young men loved of him and of the very same studies moste ardente, whose good qualities, for as muche as every daie, and at every houre thei dooe praise themselves, we will omit. fabricio was then accordyng to the time and place honoured, of all those honours, that thei could possible devise: but the bankettyng pleasures beyng passed, and the tabel taken up, and al preparacion of feastinges consumed, the which are sone at an ende in sight of greate men, who to honorable studies have their mindes set, the daie beyng longe, and the heate muche, cosimo judged for to content better his desire, that it wer well doen, takyng occasion to avoide the heate, to bring him into the moste secret, and shadowest place of his garden. where thei beyng come, and caused to sit, some upon herbes, some in the coldest places, other upon litle seates which there was ordeined, under the shadow of moste high trees, fabricio praiseth the place, to be delectable, and particularly consideryng the trees, and not knowyng some of them, he did stande musinge in his minde, whereof cosimo beeyng a ware saied, you have not peradventure ben acquainted with some of these sortes of trees: but doe not marvell at it, for as muche as there bee some, that were more estemed of the antiquitie, then thei are commonly now a daies: and he tolde him the names of them, and how barnardo his graundfather did travaile in suche kinde of plantyng: fabricio replied, i thought it shuld be the same you saie, and this place, and this studie, made me to remember certaine princes of the kyngdome of naples, whiche of these anncient tillage and shadow doe delight. and staiyng upon this talke, and somewhat standyng in a studdie, saied moreover, if i thought i should not offende, i woud tell my opinion, but i beleeve i shall not, commonyng with friendes, and to dispute of thynges, and not to condemne them. how much better thei should have doen (be it spoken without displeasure to any man) to have sought to been like the antiquitie in thinges strong, and sharpe, not in the delicate and softe: and in those that thei did in the sunne, not in the shadowe: and to take the true and perfecte maners of the antiquitie: not those that are false and corrupted: for that when these studies pleased my romaines, my countrie fell into ruin. unto which cosimo answered. but to avoide the tediousnesse to repeate so many times he saied, and the other answered, there shall be onely noted the names of those that speakes, without rehersing other. then cosimo saied, you have opened the waie of a reasoning, which i have desired, and i praie you that you will speake withoute respecte, for that that i without respecte will aske you, and if i demaundyng, or repliyng shall excuse, or accuse any, it shal not be to excuse, or accuse, but to understande of you the truth. fabricio. and i shall be very well contented to tell you that, whiche i understand of al the same that you shall aske me, the whiche if it shall be true, or no, i wil report me to your judgemente: and i will be glad that you aske me, for that i am to learne, as well of you in askyng me, as you of me in aunswerynge you: for as muche as many times a wise demaunder, maketh one to consider many thynges, and to knowe many other, whiche without havyng been demaunded, he should never have knowen. cosimo. i will retourne to thesame, that you said first, that my graundfather and those your princes, should have doen more wisely, to have resembled the antiquitie in hard thinges, then in the delicate, and i will excuse my parte, for that, the other i shall leave to excuse for you. i doe not beleve that in his tyme was any manne, that so moche detested the livyng in ease, as he did, and that so moche was a lover of the same hardenesse of life, whiche you praise: notwithstandyng he knewe not how to bee able in persone, nor in those of his sonnes to use it, beeyng borne in so corrupte a worlde, where one that would digresse from the common use, should bee infamed and disdained of every man: consideryng that if one in the hottest day of summer being naked, should wallowe hymself upon the sande, or in winter in the moste coldest monethes upon the snowe, as diogenes did, he should be taken as a foole. if one, (as the spartans were wonte to doe) should nourishe his children in a village, makyng them to slepe in the open aire, to go with hedde and feete naked, to washe them selves in the colde water for to harden them, to be able to abide moche paine, and for to make theim to love lesse life, and to feare lesse death, he should be scorned, and soner taken as a wilde beast, then as a manne. if there wer seen also one, to nourishe himself with peason and beanes, and to despise gold, as fabricio doeth, he should bee praised of fewe, and followed of none: so that he being afraied of this present maner of livyng, he left thauncient facions, and thesame, that he could with lest admiracion imitate in the antiquitie, he did. fabricio. you have excused it in this parte mooste strongly: and surely you saie the truthe: but i did not speake so moche of this harde maner of livyng, as of other maners more humaine, and whiche have with the life now a daies greater conformitie. the whiche i doe not beleve, that it hath been difficulte to bryng to passe unto one, who is nombred emongest princes of a citee: for the provyng whereof, i will never seke other, then thexample of the romaines. whose lives, if thei wer well considred, and thorders of thesame common weale, there should therin be seen many thinges, not impossible to induce into a cominaltie, so that it had in her any good thing. cosimo. what thynges are those, that you would induce like unto the antiquitie. fabricio. to honour, and to reward vertue, not to despise povertie, to esteme the maners and orders of warfare, to constrain the citezeins to love one an other, to live without sectes, to esteme lesse the private, than the publike, and other like thinges, that easily might bee with this time accompanied: the which maners ar not difficult to bring to passe, when a man should wel consider them, and entre therin by due meanes: for asmoche as in thesame, the truth so moche appereth, that every common wit, maie easely perceive it: which thing, who that ordeineth, doth plant trees, under the shadowe wherof, thei abide more happie, and more pleasantly, then under these shadowes of this goodly gardeine. cosimo. i will not speake any thyng againste thesame that you have saied, but i will leave it to bee judged of these, whom easely can judge, and i will tourne my communicacion to you, that is an accusar of theim, the whiche in grave, and greate doynges, are not followers of the antiquitie, thinkyng by this waie more easely to be in my entent satisfied. therfore, i would knowe of you whereof it groweth, that of the one side you condempne those, that in their doynges resemble not the antiquitie? of the other, in the warre, whiche is your art, wherin you are judged excellent, it is not seen, that you have indevoured your self, to bryng the same to any soche ende, or any thyng at all resembled therein the auncient maners. fabricio. you are happened upon the poincte, where i loked: for that my talke deserved no other question: nor i desired other: and albeit that i could save my self with an easie excuse, not withstandyng for my more contentacion, and yours, seyng that the season beareth it, i will enter in moche longer reasoning. those men, whiche will enterprise any thyng, ought firste with all diligence to prepare theim selves, to be ready and apte when occasion serveth, to accomplish that, which thei have determined to worke: and for that when the preparacions are made craftely, thei are not knowen, there cannot be accused any man of any negligence, if firste it be not disclosed by thoccasion: in the which working not, is after seen, either that there is not prepared so moche as suffiseth, or that there hath not been of any part therof thought upon. and for as moche as to me there is not come any occasion to be able, to shewe the preparacions made of me, to reduce the servise of warre into his auncient orders, if i have not reduced it, i cannot be of you, nor of other blamed: i beleve this excuse shuld suffise for answere to your accusement. cosimo. it should suffice, when i wer certain, that thoccasion were not come. fabricio. but for that i know, that you maie doubt whether this occasion hath been cum, or no, i will largely (when you with pacience will heare me) discourse what preparacions are necessary first to make, what occasion muste growe, what difficultie doeth let, that the preparacions help not, and why thoccasion cannot come, and how these things at ones, which some contrary endes, is most difficill, and most easie to do. cosimo. you cannot do bothe to me, and unto these other, a thing more thankfull then this. and if to you it shall not be tedious to speake, unto us it shal never be grevous to heare: but for asmoch as this reasonyng ought to be long, i will with your license take helpe of these my frendes: and thei, and i praie you of one thyng, that is, that you will not bee greved, if some tyme with some question of importaunce, we interrupte you. [sidenote: why a good man ought never to use the exercise of armes, as his art.] fabricio. i am moste well contented, that you cosimo with these other younge men here, doe aske me: for that i beleve, that youthfulnes, will make you lovers of warlike thinges, and more easie to beleve thesame, that of me shalbe saied. these other, by reason of havyng nowe their hedde white, and for havyng upon their backes their bloude congeled, parte of theim are wonte to bee enemies of warre, parte uncorrectable, as those, whom beleve, that tymes, and not the naughtie maners, constraine men to live thus: so that safely aske you all of me, and without respecte: the whiche i desire, as well, for that it maie be unto me a little ease, as also for that i shall have pleasure, not to leave in your mynde any doubt. i will begin at your woordes, where you saied unto me, that in the warre, that is my arte, i had not indevoured to bryng it to any aunciente ende: whereupon i saie, as this beyng an arte, whereby men of no maner of age can live honestly, it cannot bee used for an arte, but of a common weale: or of a kyngdome: and the one and the other of these, when thei bee well ordeined, will never consente to any their citezeins, or subjectes, to use it for any arte, nor never any good manne doeth exercise it for his particulare arte: for as moche as good he shall never bee judged, whom maketh an excersise thereof, where purposing alwaies to gaine thereby, it is requisite for hym to be ravenyng, deceiptfull, violente, and to have many qualities, the whiche of necessitie maketh hym not good: nor those menne cannot, whiche use it for an arte, as well the greate as the leaste, bee made otherwise: for that this arte doeth not nourishe them in peace. wherfore thei ar constrained either to thinke that there is no peace, or so moche to prevaile in the tyme of warre, that in peace thei maie bee able to kepe them selves: and neither of these two thoughtes happeneth in a good man: for that in mindyng to bee able to finde himself at all tymes, dooe growe robberies, violence, slaughters, whiche soche souldiours make as well to the frendes, as to the enemies: and in mindyng not to have peace, there groweth deceiptes, whiche the capitaines use to those, whiche hire them, to the entent the warre maie continue, and yet though the peace come often, it happeneth that the capitaines beyng deprived of their stipendes, and of their licencious livyng, thei erecte an ansigne of adventures, and without any pitie thei put to sacke a province. have not you in memorie of your affaires, how that beyng many souldiours in italie without wages, bicause the warre was ended, thei assembled together many companies, and went taxyng the tounes, and sackyng the countrie, without beyng able to make any remedie? have you not red, that the carthagenes souldiours, the first warre beyng ended which thei had with the romaines, under matho, and spendio, twoo capitaines, rebelliously constituted of theim, made more perillous warre to the carthaginens, then thesame whiche thei had ended with the romaines? in the time of our fathers, frances sforza, to the entente to bee able to live honourably in the time of peace, not only beguiled the millenars, whose souldiour he was, but he toke from them their libertie and became their prince. like unto him hath been all the other souldiours of italie whiche have used warfare, for their particulare arte, and albeeit thei have not through their malignitie becomen dukes of milein, so moche the more thei deserve to bee blamed: for that although thei have not gotten so moch as he, thei have all (if their lives wer seen) sought to bring the like thynges to passe. sforza father of fraunces, constrained quene jone, to caste her self into the armes of the king of aragon, havyng in a sodain forsaken her, and in the middest of her enemies, lefte her disarmed, onely to satisfie his ambicion, either in taxyng her, or in takyng from her the kyngdome. braccio with the verie same industrie, sought to possesse the kyngdome of naples, and if he had not been overthrowen and slaine at aquila, he had brought it to passe. like disorders growe not of other, then of soche men as hath been, that use the exercise of warfare, for their proper arte. have not you a proverbe, whiche fortefieth my reasons, whiche saieth, that warre maketh theves, and peace hangeth theim up? for as moche as those, whiche knowe not how to live of other exercise, and in the same finding not enie man to sustayne theym, and havyng not so moche power, to knowe how to reduce theim selves together, to make an open rebellion, they are constrayned of necessetie to robbe in the highe waies, and justice is enforced to extinguishe theim. cosimo. you have made me to esteme this arte of warfare almoste as nothyng, and i have supposed it the moste excellentes, and moste honourableste that hath been used: so that if you declare me it not better, i cannot remaine satisfied: for that when it is thesame, that you saie, i knowe not, whereof groweth the glorie of cesar, of pompei, of scipio, of marcello, and of so many romaine capitaines, whiche by fame are celebrated as goddes. fabricio. i have not yet made an ende of disputyng al thesame, that i purposed to propounde: whiche were twoo thynges, the one, that a good manne could not use this exercise for his arte: the other, that a common weale or a kingdome well governed, did never permitte, that their subjectes or citezeins should use it for an arte. aboute the firste, i have spoken as moche as hath comen into my mynde: there remaineth in me to speake of the seconde where i woll come to aunswere to this your laste question, and i saie that pompey and cesar, and almoste all those capitaines, whiche were at rome, after the laste carthagenens warre, gotte fame as valiaunt men, not as good, and those whiche lived before them, gotte glorie as valiaunte and good menne: the whiche grewe, for that these tooke not the exercise of warre for their arte: and those whiche i named firste, as their arte did use it. and so longe as the common weale lived unspotted, never any noble citezein would presume, by the meane of soche exercise, to availe thereby in peace, breakyng the lawes, spoilyng the provinces, usurpyng, and plaiyng the tyraunte in the countrie, and in every maner prevailyng: nor any of how lowe degree so ever thei were, would goe aboute to violate the religion, confederatyng theim selves with private men, not to feare the senate, or to followe any tirannicall insolence, for to bee able to live with the arte of warre in all tymes. but those whiche were capitaines, contented with triumphe, with desire did tourne to their private life, and those whiche were membres, would be more willyng to laie awaie their weapons, then to take them, and every manne tourned to his science, whereby thei gotte their livyng: nor there was never any, that would hope with praie, and with this arte, to be able to finde theim selves. of this there maie be made concernyng citezeins, moste evidente conjecture, by the ensample of regolo attillio, who beyng capitain of the romaine armies in affrica, and havyng as it wer overcome the carthegenens, he required of the senate, licence to retourne home, to kepe his possessions, and told them, that thei were marde of his housbandmen. whereby it is more clere then the sunne, that if thesame manne had used the warre as his arte, and by meanes thereof, had purposed to have made it profitable unto him, havyng in praie so many provinces, he would not have asked license, to returne to kepe his feldes: for as moche as every daie he might otherwise, have gotten moche more, then the value of al those possessions: but bicause these good men and soche as use not the warre for their arte, will not take of thesame any thing then labour, perilles, and gloris, when thei are sufficiently glorious, thei desire to returne home, and to live of their owne science. concernyng menne of lowe degree, and common souldiours, to prove that thei kepte the verie same order, it doeth appeare that every one willingly absented theim selves from soche exercise, and when thei served not in the warre, thei would have desired to serve, and when thei did serve, thei would have desired leave not to have served: whiche is wel knowen through many insamples, and inespecially seeyng how emonge the firste privileges, whiche the romaine people gave to their citezeins was, that thei should not be constrained against their willes, to serve in the warres. therefore rome so long as it was well governed, whiche was untill the commyng of graccus, it had not any souldiour that would take this exercise for an arte, and therefore it had fewe naughtie, and those few wer severely punished. then a citee well governed, ought to desire, that this studie of warre, be used in tyme of peace for exercise, and in the time of warre, for necessitie and for glorie: and to suffer onely the common weale to use it for an arte, as rome did, and what so ever citezein, that hath in soche exercise other ende, is not good, and what so ever citee is governed otherwise, is not well ordeined. cosimo. i remain contented enough and satisfied of thesame, whiche hetherto you have told, and this conclusion pleaseth me verie wel whiche you have made, and as muche as is loked for touching a common welth, i beleve that it is true, but concerning kinges, i can not tell nowe, for that i woulde beleve that a kinge would have about him, whome particularly should take suche exercise for his arte. fabricio. a kingdome well ordred ought moste of all to avoide the like kinde of men, for only thei, are the destruction of their king, and all together ministers of tiranny, and alledge me not to the contrarie anie presente kingdome, for that i woll denie you all those to be kingdomes well ordered, bicause the kingdomes whiche have good orders, give not their absolute empire unto their king, saving in the armies, for as much as in this place only, a quicke deliberation is necessarie, and for this cause a principall power ought to be made. in the other affaires, he ought not to doe any thing without councell, and those are to be feared, which councell him, leaste he have some aboute him which in time of peace desireth to have warre bicause they are not able without the same to live, but in this, i wilbe a little more large: neither to seke a kingdome altogether good, but like unto those whiche be nowe a daies where also of a king those ought to be feared, whiche take the warre for theire art, for that the strength of armies without any doubte are the foote menne: so that if a king take not order in suche wise, that his men in time of peace may be content to returne home, and to live of their owne trades, it will follow of necessitie, that he ruinate: for that there is not found more perilous men, then those, whiche make the warre as their arte: bicause in such case, a king is inforsed either alwaies to make warre, or to paie them alwaies, or else to bee in perill, that they take not from him his kingdome. to make warre alwaies, it is not possible: to paie them alwaies it can not be: see that of necessitie, he runneth in peril to lese the state. the romaines (as i have saide) so long as they were wise and good, would never permitte, that their citizeins should take this exercise for their arte, although they were able to nurrishe them therin alwaies, for that that alwaies they made warre: but to avoide thesame hurte, whiche this continuall exercise might doe them, seyng the time did not varie, they changed the men, and from time to time toke such order with their legions, that in xv. yeres alwaies, they renewed them: and so thei had their men in the floure of their age, that is from xviij. to xxxiij. yeres, in which time the legges, the handes, and the yes answere the one the other, nor thei tarried not till there strengthe should decaie, and there naghtines increase, as it did after in the corrupted times. for as muche as octavian first, and after tiberius, minding more their own proper power, then the publicke profite, began to unarme the romaine people, to be able easely to commaunde them, and to kepe continually those same armies on the frontries of the empire: and bicause also they judged those, not sufficient to kepe brideled the people and romaine senate, they ordeined an armie called pretoriano, which laie harde by the walles of rome, and was as a rocke on the backe of the same citie. and for as much as then thei began frely to permitte, that suche men as were apoincted in suche exercises, should use the service of warre for their arte, streight waie the insolence of theim grewe, that they became fearful unto the senate, and hurtefull to the emperour, whereby ensued suche harme, that manie were slaine thorough there insolensie: for that they gave, and toke awaie the empire, to whome they thought good. and some while it hapned, that in one self time there were manie emperours, created of divers armies, of whiche thinges proceded first the devision of the empire, and at laste the ruine of the same. therefore kinges ought, if thei wil live safely, to have there souldiours made of men, who when it is time to make warre, willingly for his love will go to the same, and when the peace cometh after, more willingly will returne home. whiche alwaies wilbe, when thei shalbe men that know how to live of other arte then this: and so they ought to desire, peace beyng come, that there prince doo tourne to governe their people, the gentilmen to the tending of there possessions, and the common souldiours to their particular arte, and everie one of these, to make warre to have peace, and not to seke to trouble the peace, to have warre. cosimo. truely this reasonyng of yours, i thinke to bee well considered, notwithstanding beyng almost contrarie to that, whiche till nowe i have thought, my minde as yet doeth not reste purged of all doubte, for as muche as i see manie lordes and gentelmen, to finde them selves in time of peace, thorough the studies of warre, as your matches bee, who have provision of there princes, and of the cominaltie. i see also, almost al the gentelmen of armes, remaine with neir provision, i see manie souldiours lie in garison of cities and fortresses, so that my thinkes, that there is place in time of peace, for everie one. fabricio. i doe not beleve that you beleve this, that in time of peace everie man may have place, bicause, put case that there coulde not be brought other reason, the small number, that all they make, whiche remaine in the places alledged of you, would answer you. what proporcion have the souldiours, whiche are requiset to bee in the warre with those, whiche in the peace are occupied? for as much as the fortreses, and the cities that be warded in time of peace, in the warre are warded muche more, unto whome are joyned the souldiours, whiche kepe in the fielde, whiche are a great number, all whiche in the peace be putte awaie. and concerning the garde of states, whiche are a small number, pope july, and you have shewed to everie man, how muche are to be feared those, who will not learne to exercise any other art, then the warre, and you have for there insolence, deprived them from your garde, and have placed therin swisers, as men borne and brought up under lawes, and chosen of the cominaltie, according to the true election: so that saie no more, that in peace is place for everie man. concerning men at armes, thei al remaining in peace with their wages, maketh this resolution to seme more difficulte: notwithstandyng who considereth well all, shall finde the answere easie, bicause this manner of keping men of armes, is a corrupted manner and not good, the occasion is, for that they be men, who make thereof an arte, and of them their should grow every daie a thousande inconveniencies in the states, where thei should be, if thei were accompanied of sufficient company: but beyng fewe, and not able by them selves to make an armie, they cannot often doe suche grevous hurtes, neverthelesse they have done oftentimes: as i have said of frances, and of sforza his father, and of braccio of perugia: so that this use of keping men of armes, i doe not alowe, for it is a corrupte maner, and it may make great inconveniencies. cosimo. woulde you live without them? or keping them, how would you kepe them? [sidenote: a kinge that hath about him any that are to much lovers of warre, or to much lovers of peace shal cause him to erre.] fabricio. by waie of ordinaunce, not like to those of the king of fraunce: for as muche as they be perilous, and insolent like unto ours, but i would kepe them like unto those of the auncient romaines, whom created their chivalry of their own subjectes, and in peace time, thei sente them home unto their houses, to live of their owne trades, as more largely before this reasoning ende, i shal dispute. so that if now this part of an armie, can live in such exercise, as wel when it is peace, it groweth of the corrupt order. concerning the provisions, which are reserved to me, and to other capitaines, i saie unto you, that this likewise is an order moste corrupted: for as much as a wise common weale, ought not to give such stipendes to any, but rather thei ought to use for capitaines in the warre, their citezeins, and in time of peace to will, that thei returne to their occupations. likewise also, a wise king either ought not to give to suche, or giving any, the occasion ought to be either for rewarde of some worthy dede, or else for the desire to kepe suche a kinde of man, as well in peace as in warre. and bicause you alledged me, i will make ensample upon my self, and saie that i never used the warre as an arte, for as muche as my arte, is to governe my subjectes, and to defende them, and to be able to defende them, to love peace, and to know how to make warre, and my kinge not so muche to rewarde and esteeme me, for my knowledge in the warre, as for the knowledge that i have to councel him in peace. then a king ought not to desire to have about him, any that is not of this condicion if he be wise, and prudently minde to governe: for that, that if he shal have about him either to muche lovers of peace, or to much lovers of warre, they shall make him to erre. i cannot in this my firste reasoning, and according to my purpose saie more, and when this suffiseth you not, it is mete, you seke of them that may satisfie you better. you maie now verie well understand, how difficulte it is to bringe in use the auncient maners in the presente warres, and what preparations are mete for a wise man to make, and what occasions ought to be loked for, to be able to execute it. but by and by, you shall know these things better, if this reasoning make you not werie, conferring what so ever partes of the auncient orders hath ben, to the maners nowe presente. cosimo. if we desired at the first to here your reason of these thinges, truly thesame whiche hetherto you have spoken, hath doubled our desire: wherefore we thanke you for that we have hard, and the rest, we crave of you to here. fabricio. seyng that it is so your pleasure, i will begin to intreate of this matter from the beginning, to the intent it maye be better understode, being able by thesame meane, more largely to declare it. the ende of him that wil make warre, is to be able to fight with every enemy in the fielde and to be able to overcum an armie. to purpose to doe this, it is convenient to ordeine an hoost. to ordein an hoost, their must be found menne, armed, ordered, and as well in the small, as in the great orders exercised, to knowe howe to kepe araie, and to incampe, so that after bringing them unto the enemie, either standing or marching, they maie know how to behave themselves valiantly. in this thing consisteth all the industrie of the warre on the lande, whiche is the most necessarie, and the most honorablest, for he that can wel order a fielde against the enemie, the other faultes that he should make in the affaires of warre, wilbe borne with: but he that lacketh this knowledge, although that in other particulars he be verie good, he shal never bring a warre to honor: for as muche as a fielde that thou winnest, lesing? img doeth cancell all other thy evill actes: so like wise lesing it, all thinges well done of thee before, remaine vaine. therfore, beyng necessarie first to finde the menne, it is requiset to come to the choise of them. they whiche unto the warre have given rule, will that the menne be chosen out of temperate countries, to the intente they may have hardines, and prudence, for as muche as the hote countrey, bredes prudente men and not hardy, the colde, hardy, and not prudente. this rule is good to be geven, to one that were prince of all the world, bicause it is lawfull for him to choose men out of those places, whiche he shall thinke beste. but minding to give a rule, that every one may use, it is mete to declare, that everie common weale, and every kingdome, ought to choose their souldiours out of their owne countrie, whether it be hote, colde, or temperate: for that it is scene by olde ensamples, how that in every countrie with exercise, their is made good souldiours: bicause where nature lacketh, the industry supplieth, the which in this case is worthe more, then nature, and taking them in other places, you shal not have of the choise, for choise is as much to saie, as the best of a province, and to have power to chuse those that will not, as well as those that wil serve. wherfore, you muste take your choise in those places, that are subjecte unto you, for that you cannot take whome you liste, in the countries that are not yours, but you muste take suche as will goe with you. cosimo. yet there maie bee of those, that will come, taken and lefte, and therefore, thei maie be called chosen. [sidenote: oute of what countrie is best to chuse souldiours to make a good election.] fabuicio. you saie the truthe in a certaine maner, but consider the faultes, whiche soche a chosen manne hath in himselfe, for that also many times it hapneth, that he is not a chosen manne. for those that are not thy subjectes, and whiche willyngly doe serve, are not of the beste, but rather of the worste of a province, for as moche as if any be sclanderous, idell, unruly, without religion, fugetive from the rule of their fathers, blasphemours, dise plaiers, in every condicion evill brought up, bee those, whiche will serve, whose customes cannot be more contrarie, to a true and good servise: albeit, when there bee offered unto you, so many of soche men, as come to above the nomber, that you have appoincted, you maie chuse them: but the matter beyng naught, the choise is not possible to be good: also, many times it chaunceth, that thei be not so many, as will make up the nomber, whereof you have nede, so that beyng constrained to take them al, it commeth to passe, that thei cannot then bee called chosen men, but hired souldiours. with this disorder the armies of italie, are made now a daies, and in other places, except in almaine, bicause there thei doe not hire any by commaundemente of the prince, but accordyng to the will of them, that are disposed to serve. then consider now, what maners of those aunciente armies, maie bee brought into an armie of men, put together by like waies. cosimo. what waie ought to bee used then? fabricio. the same waie that i saied, to chuse them of their owne subjectes, and with the auethoritie of the prince. cosmo. in the chosen, shall there bee likewise brought in any auncient facion? fabricio. you know well enough that ye: when he that should commaunde theim, were their prince, or ordinarie lorde, whether he were made chief, or as a citezein, and for the same tyme capitaine, beyng a common weale, otherwise it is harde to make any thyng good. cosimo. why? fabricio. i will tell you a nane: for this time i will that this suffise you, that it cannot be wrought well by other waie. [sidenote: whether it be better to take menne oute of townes or out of the countrie to serve.] cosimo. having then to make this choyse of men in their owne countries, whether judge you that it be better to take them oute of the citie, or out of the countrie? fabricio. those that have written of such matters, doe all agree, that it is best to chuse them out of the countrie, being men accustomed to no ease, nurished in labours, used to stonde in the sunne, to flie the shadow, knowing how to occupy the spade, to make a diche, to carrie a burden, and to bee without any deceite, and without malisiousnes. but in this parte my opinion should be, that beyng two sortes of souldiours, on foote, and on horsebacke, that those on foote, should be chosen out of the countrie, and those on horseback, oute of the cities. [sidenote: of what age souldiours ought to bee chosen.] cosimo. of what age would you choose them? fabricio. i would take them, when i had to make a newe armie, from xvii. to xl. yeres: when it were made alredy, and i had to restore them, of xvii. alwaies. cosimo. i doe not understonde well this distinction. fabricio. i shall tell you: when i should ordaine an hooste to make warre, where were no hooste alredy, it should be necessarie to chuse all those men, which were most fitte and apte for the warre, so that they were of servisable age, that i might bee able to instructe theim, as by me shalbe declared: but when i would make my choise of menne in places, where a powre were alredy prepared, for suppliyng of thesame, i would take them of xvii. yeres: for as much as the other of more age be alredy chosen and apoincted. cosimo. then woulde you prepare a power like to those whiche is in our countrie? fabricio. ye truly, it is so that i would arme them, captaine them, exercise and order them in a maner, whiche i cannot tell, if you have ordred them so. cosimo. then do you praise the keping of order? fabricio. wherefore would you that i should dispraise it? cosimo. bicause many wise menne have alwaies blamed it. fabricio. you speake against all reason, to saie that a wise man blameth order, he maie bee well thought wise, and be nothyng so. cosimo. the naughtie profe, which it hath alwaies, maketh us to have soche opinion thereof. fabricio. take hede it be not your fault, and not the kepyng of order, the whiche you shall knowe, before this reasonyng be ended. cosimo. you shall doe a thyng moste thankfull, yet i will saie concernyng thesame, that thei accuse it, to the entente you maie the better justifie it. thei saie thus, either it is unprofitable, and we trustyng on the same, shall make us to lese our state, or it shall be verteous, and by thesame meane, he that governeth may easely deprive us thereof. thei alledge the romaines, who by meane of their owne powers, loste their libertie. thei alledge the venicians, and the frenche king, whiche venicians, bicause thei will not be constrained, to obeie one of their owne citezeins, use the power of straungers: and the frenche kyng hath disarmed his people, to be able more easely to commaunde them, but thei whiche like not the ordinaunces, feare moche more the unprofitablenesse, that thei suppose maie insue thereby, then any thyng els: the one cause whiche thei allege is, bicause thei are unexperte: the other, for that thei have to serve par force: for asmoche as thei saie, that the aged bee not so dissiplinable, nor apte to learne the feate of armes, and that by force, is doen never any thyng good. [sidenote: by what meanes souldiours bee made bolde and experte.] fabricio. all these reasons that you have rehearsed, be of men, whiche knoweth the thyng full little, as i shall plainly declare. and firste, concernyng the unprofitablenesse, i tell you, that there is no service used in any countrie more profitable, then the service by the subjectes of thesame nor thesame service cannot bee prepared, but in this maner: and for that this nedeth not to be disputed of, i will not lese moche tyme: bicause al thensamples of auncient histores, make for my purpose, and for that thei alledge the lacke of experience, and to use constraint: i saie how it is true, that the lacke of experience, causeth lacke of courage, and constrainte, maketh evill contentacion: but courage, and experience thei are made to gette, with the maner of armyng theim, exercisyng, and orderyng theim, as in proceadyng of this reasonyng, you shall heare. but concernyng constrainte, you ought to understande, that the menne, whiche are conducted to warfare, by commaundement of their prince, thei ought to come, neither altogether forced, nor altogether willyngly, for as moche as to moche willyngnesse, would make thinconveniencies, where i told afore, that he should not be a chosen manne, and those would be fewe that would go: and so to moche constraint, will bring forth naughtie effectes. therefore, a meane ought to be taken, where is not all constrainte, nor all willingnesse: but beyng drawen of a respecte, that thei have towardes their prince, where thei feare more the displeasure of thesame, then the presente paine: and alwaies it shall happen to be a constrainte, in maner mingled with willingnesse, that there cannot growe soche evil contentacion, that it make evill effectes. yet i saie not for all this, that it cannot bee overcome, for that full many tymes, were overcome the romaine armies, and the armie of aniball was overcome, so that it is seen, that an armie cannot be ordained so sure, that it cannot be overthrowen. therefore, these your wise men, ought not to measure this unprofitablenesse, for havyng loste ones, but to beleve, that like as thei lese, so thei maie winne, and remeadie the occasion of the losse: and when thei shall seke this thei shall finde, that it hath not been through faulte of the waie, but of the order, whiche had not his perfeccion and as i have saied, thei ought to provide, not with blamyng the order, but with redressing it, the whiche how it ought to be doen, you shall understande, from poinct to poinct. concernyng the doubte, leste soche ordinaunces, take not from thee thy state, by meane of one, whiche is made hedde therof, i answere, that the armure on the backes of citezeins, or subjectes, given by the disposicion of order and lawe, did never harme, but rather alwaies it doeth good, and mainteineth the citee, moche lenger in suretie, through helpe of this armure, then without. rome continued free cccc. yeres, and was armed. sparta viii.c. many other citees have been disarmed, and have remained free, lesse then xl. for as moche as citees have nede of defence, and when thei have no defence of their owne, thei hire straungers, and the straunges defence, shall hurte moche soner the common weale, then their owne: bicause thei be moche easier to be corrupted, and a citezein that becommeth mightie, maie moche soner usurpe, and more easely bryng his purpose to passe, where the people bee disarmed, that he seketh to oppresse: besides this, a citee ought to feare a greate deale more, twoo enemies then one. thesame citee that useth straungers power, feareth at one instant the straunger, whiche it hireth, and the citezein: and whether this feare ought to be, remember thesame, whiche i rehearsed a little a fore of frances sforza. that citee, whiche useth her own proper power, feareth no man, other then onely her owne citezein. but for all the reasons that maie bee saied, this shall serve me, that never any ordeined any common weale, or kyngdome, that would not thinke, that thei theim selves, that inhabite thesame, should with their sweardes defende it. and if the venicians had been so wise in this, as in all their other orders, thei should have made a new monarchie in the world, whom so moche the more deserve blame, havyng been armed of their first giver of lawes: for havyng no dominion on the lande, thei wer armed on the sea, where thei made their warre vertuously, and with weapons in their handes, increased their countrie. but when thei were driven to make warre on the lande, to defende vicenza, where thei ought to have sent one of their citezens, to have fought on the lande, thei hired for their capitain, the marques of mantua: this was thesame foolishe acte, whiche cut of their legges, from climyng into heaven, and from enlargyng their dominion: and if thei did it, bicause thei beleved that as thei knewe, how to make warre on the sea, so thei mistrusted theim selves, to make it on the lande, it was a mistruste not wise: for as moche as more easely, a capitain of the sea, whiche is used to fight with the windes, with the water, and with men, shall become a capitaine of the lande, where he shall fight with men onely, then a capitaine of the lande, to become a capitain of the sea. the romanies knowyng how to fight on the lande, and on the sea, commyng to warre, with the carthaginens, whiche were mightie on the sea, hired not grekes, or spaniardes, accustomed to the sea, but thei committed thesame care, to their citezeins, whiche thei sent on the land, and thei overcame. if thei did it, for that one of their citezeins should not become a tiraunt, it was a feare smally considered: for that besides thesame reasons, whiche to this purpose, a little afore i have rehearsed, if a citezein with the powers on the sea, was never made a tiraunt in a citee standyng in the sea, so moche the lesse he should have been able to accomplishe this with the powers of the lande: whereby thei ought to se that the weapons in the handes of their citezeins, could not make tirantes: but the naughtie orders of the governement, whiche maketh tirannie in a citee, and thei havyng good governement, thei nede not to feare their owne weapons: thei toke therefore an unwise waie, the whiche hath been occasion, to take from them moche glorie, and moche felicitie. concernyng the erroure, whiche the kyng of fraunce committeth not kepyng instructed his people in the warre, the whiche those your wise men alledge for ensample, there is no man, (his particulare passions laied a side) that doeth not judge this fault, to be in thesame kyngdome, and this negligence onely to make hym weake. but i have made to greate a digression, and peradventure am come out of my purpose, albeit i have doen it to aunswere you, and to shewe you, that in no countrie, there can bee made sure foundacion, for defence in other powers but of their owne subjectes: and their own power, cannot be prepared otherwise, then by waie of an ordinaunce, nor by other waie, to induce the facion of an armie in any place, nor by other meane to ordein an instruction of warfare. if you have red the orders, whiche those first kynges made in rome, and inespecially servio tullo, you shall finde that the orders of the classi is no other, then an ordinaunce, to bee able at a sodaine, to bryng together an armie, for defence of thesame citee. but let us retourne to our choise, i saie againe, that havyng to renewe an olde order, i would take them of xvii. havyng to make a newe armie, i would take them of all ages, betwene xvii. and xl. to be able to warre straight waie. [sidenote: of what science soldiours ought to bee chosen.] cosimo. would you make any difference, of what science you would chuse them? fabricio. the aucthours, which have written of the arte of warre, make difference, for that thei will not, that there bee taken foulers, fishers, cookes, baudes, nor none that use any science of voluptuousnesse. but thei will, that there bee taken plowmen, ferrars, smithes, carpenters, buchars, hunters, and soche like: but i would make little difference, through conjecture of the science, concernyng the goodnesse of the man, notwithstandyng, in as moche as to be able with more profite to use theim, i would make difference, and for this cause, the countrie men, which are used to till the grounde, are more profitable then any other. next to whom be smithes, carpentars, ferrars, masons, wherof it is profitable to have enough: for that their occupacions, serve well in many thynges: beyng a thyng verie good to have a souldiour, of whom maie be had double servise. [sidenote: howe to chose a souldiour.] cosimo. wherby doe thei knowe those, that be, or are not sufficient to serve. fabricio. i will speake of the maner of chusing a new ordinaunce, to make an armie after, for that parte of this matter, doeth come also to be reasoned of, in the election, which should be made for the replenishing, or restoring of an old ordinaunce. i saie therfore, that the goodnesse of one, whiche thou muste chuse for a souldiour, is knowen either by experience, thorough meane of some of his worthy doynges, or by conjecture. the proofe of vertue, cannot be founde in men whiche are chosen of newe, and whiche never afore have ben chosen, and of these are founde either fewe or none, in the ordinaunce that of newe is ordeined. it is necessarie therefore, lackyng this experience, to runne to the conjecture, whiche is taken by the yeres, by the occupacion, and by the personage: of those two first, hath been reasoned, there remaineth to speake of the thirde. and therefore, i saie how some have willed, that the souldiour bee greate, emongest whom was pirrus. some other have chosen theim onely, by the lustinesse of the body, as cesar did: whiche lustinesse of bodie and mynde, is conjectured by the composicion of the members, and of the grace of the countenaunce: and therefore, these that write saie, that thei would have the iyes lively and cherefull, the necke full of sinowes, the breaste large, the armes full of musculles, the fingers long, little beallie, the flankes rounde, the legges and feete drie: whiche partes are wont alwayes to make a manne nimble and strong, whiche are twoo thynges, that in a souldiour are sought above al other. regarde ought to bee had above all thynges, to his customes, and that in hym bee honestie, and shame: otherwise, there shall bee chosen an instrumente of mischief, and a beginnyng of corrupcion: for that lette no manne beleve that in the dishoneste educacion, and filthy minde, there maie take any vertue, whiche is in any parte laudable. and i thinke it not superfluous, but rather i beleve it to bee necessarie, to the entente you maie the better understande, the importaunce of this chosen, to tell you the maner that the romaine consuls, in the beginnyng of their rule, observed in the chosing of their romain legions: in the whiche choise of men, bicause thesame legions were mingled with old souldiours and newe, consideryng the continuall warre thei kepte, thei might in their choise procede, with the experince of the old, and with the conjecture of the newe: and this ought to be noted, that these men be chosen, either to serve incontinently, or to exercise theim incontinently, and after to serve when nede should require. but my intencion is to shew you, how an armie maie be prepared in the countrie, where there is no warlike discipline: in which countrie, chosen men cannot be had, to use them straight waie, but there, where the custome is to levie armies, and by meane of the prince, thei maie then well bee had, as the romaines observed, and as is observed at this daie emong the suisers: bicause in these chosen, though there be many newe menne, there be also so many of the other olde souldiours, accustomed to serve in the warlike orders, where the newe mingled together with the olde, make a bodie united and good, notwithstanding, that themperours after, beginning the staciones of ordinarie souldiours, had appoincted over the newe souldiours, whiche were called tironi, a maister to exercise theim, as appeareth in the life of massimo the emperour. the whiche thyng, while rome was free, not onely in the armies, but in the citee was ordeined: and the exercises of warre, beyng accustomed in thesame, where the yong men did exercise, there grewe, that beyng chosen after to goe into warre, thei were so used in the fained exercise of warfare, that thei could easely worke in the true: but those emperours havyng after put doune these exercises, thei wer constrained to use the waies, that i have shewed you. therefore, comyng to the maner of the chosen romain, i saie that after the romain consulles (to whom was appoincted the charge of the warre) had taken the rule, myndyng to ordeine their armies, for that it was the custome, that either of them should have twoo legions of romaine menne, whiche was the strength of their armies, thei created xxiiii. tribunes of warre, and thei appoincted sixe for every legion, whom did thesame office, whiche those doe now a daies, that we call conestables: thei made after to come together, all the romain men apte to beare weapons and thei put the tribunes of every legion, seperate the one from the other. afterwarde, by lot thei drewe the tribes, of whiche thei had firste to make the chosen, and of thesame tribe thei chose fower of the best, of whiche was chosen one of the tribunes, of the first legion, and of the other three was chosen, one of the tribunes of the second legion, of the other two there was chosen one of the tribunes of the third, and the same last fell to the fowerth legion. after these iiij, thei chose other fower, of which, first one was chosen of the tribunes of the seconde legion, the seconde of those of the thirde, the thirde of those of the fowerth, the fowerth remained to the first. after, thei chose other fower, the first chose the thirde, the second the fowerth, the thirde the fiveth, the fowerth remained to the seconde: and thus thei varied successively, this maner of chosyng, so that the election came to be equall, and the legions wer gathered together: and as afore we saied, this choise might bee made to use straighte waie, for that thei made them of men, of whom a good parte were experiensed in the verie warfare in deede, and all in the fained exercised, and thei might make this choise by conjecture, and by experience. but where a power must be ordeined of newe, and for this to chuse them out of hande, this chosen cannot be made, saving by conjecture, whiche is taken by consideryng their ages and their likelinesse. cosimo. i beleve all to be true, as moche as of you hath been spoken: but before that you procede to other reasonyng, i woll aske of you one thing, which you have made me to remember: saiyng that the chosen, that is to be made where men were not used to warre, ought to be made by conjecture: for asmoche as i have heard some men, in many places dispraise our ordinaunce, and in especially concernyng the nomber, for that many saie, that there ought to bee taken lesse nomber, whereof is gotten this profite, that thei shall be better and better chosen, and men shal not be so moche diseased, so that there maie bee given them some rewarde, whereby thei maie bee more contented, and better bee commaunded, whereof i would understande in this parte your opinion, and whether you love better the greate nomber, than the little, and what waie you would take to chuse theim in the one, and in the other nomber. fabricio. without doubte it is better, and more necessary, the great nomber, then the little: but to speake more plainly, where there cannot be ordeined a great nomber of men, there cannot be ordeined a perfect ordinaunce: and i will easely confute all the reasons of them propounded. i saie therefore firste, that the lesse nomber where is many people, as is for ensample tuscane, maketh not that you have better, nor that the chosen be more excellent, for that myndyng in chosing the menne, to judge them by experience, there shall be founde in thesame countrie moste fewe, whom experience should make provable, bothe for that fewe hath been in warre, as also for that of those, mooste fewe have made triall, whereby thei might deserve to bee chosen before the other: so that he whiche ought in like places to chuse, it is mete he leave a parte the experience, and take them by conjecture. then being brought likewise into soche necessitie, i would understande, if there come before me twentie young men of good stature, with what rule i ought to take, or to leave any: where without doubte, i beleve that every man will confesse, how it is lesse errour to take them al, to arme theim and exercise theim, beyng not able to knowe, whiche of theim is beste, and to reserve to make after more certaine chosen, when in practisyng theim with exercise, there shall be knowen those of moste spirite, and of moste life: which considered, the chusing in this case a fewe, to have them better, is altogether naught. concernyng diseasing lesse the countrie, and men, i saie that the ordinaunce, either evill or little that it bee, causeth not any disease, for that this order doeth not take menne from any of their businesse, it bindeth them not, that thei cannot go to doe any of their affaires: for that it bindeth them onely in the idell daies, to assemble together, to exercise them, the whiche thyng doeth not hurt, neither to the countrie, nor to the men, but rather to yong men it shall bryng delite: for that where vilie on the holy daies thei stande idell in tipplyng houses, thei will go for pleasure to those exercises, for that the handlyng of weapons, as it is a goodly spectacle, so unto yong men it is pleasaunt. concernyng to bee able to paie the lesse nomber, and for this to kepe theim more obediente, and more contented, i answere, how there cannot be made an ordinaunce of so fewe, whiche maie be in maner continually paied, where thesame paiment of theirs maie satisfie them. as for ensample, if there were ordeined a power of v. thousande men, for to paie them after soche sorte, that it might be thought sufficient, to content them, it shal bee convenient to give theim at least, ten thousaunde crounes the moneth: first, this nomber of men are not able to make an armie, this paie is intolerable to a state, and of the other side, it is not sufficiente to kepe men contented, and bounde to be able to serve at al times: so that in doyng this, there shall be spent moche, and a small power kept, whiche shall not be sufficient to defend thee, or to doe any enterprise of thine. if thou shouldest give theim more, or shouldest take more, so moche more impossibilitie it should be, for thee to paie theim: if thou shouldest give them lesse, or should take lesse, so moche the lesse contentacion should be in them, or so moche the lesse profite thei shal bring thee. therfore, those that reason of makyng an ordinaunce, and whilest thei tary at home to paie them, thei reason of a thing either impossible, or unprofitable, but it is necessarie to paie them, when thei are taken up to be led to the warre: albeit, though soche order should somewhat disease those, in time of peace, that are appoincted in thesame, which i se not how, there is for recompence all those benefites, whiche a power brynges, that is ordeined in a countrie: for that without thesame, there is nothyng sure. i conclude, that he that will have the little nomber, to be able to paie them, or for any of the other causes alledged of you, doeth not understande, for that also it maketh for my opinion, that every nomber shall deminishe in thy handes, through infinite impedimentes, whiche men have: so that the little nomber shall tourne to nothing: again havyng thordinaunce greate, thou maiest at thy pleasure use fewe of many, besides this, it must serve thee in deede, and in reputacion and alwaies the great nomber shall give thee moste reputacion. more over, makyng the ordinaunce to kepe menne exercised, if thou appoincte a fewe nomber of men in many countries, the handes of men bee so farre a sonder, the one from the other, that thou canst not without their moste grevous losse, gather them together to exercise them, and without this exercise, the ordinaunce is unprofitable, as hereafter shall be declared. cosimo. it suffiseth upon this my demaunde, that whiche you have saied: but i desire now, that you declare me an other doubt. thei saie, that soche a multitude of armed men, will make confusion, discension and disorder in the countrie where thei are. [sidenote: how to provid againste soche inconveniences as souldiours maie cause.] fabricio. this is an other vaine opinion, the cause wherof, i shall tell you: soche as are ordeined to serve in the warres, maie cause disorder in twoo maners, either betwene them selves, or against other, whiche thinges moste easely maie be withstode, where the order of it self, should not withstande it: for that concernyng the discorde emong theim selves, this order taketh it waie, and doeth not nourishe it, for that in orderyng them, you give them armour and capitaines. if the countrie where you ordein them, bee so unapte for the warre, that there are not armours emong the men of thesame, and that thei bee so united, that thei have no heddes, this order maketh theim moche fearser against the straunger, but it maketh them not any thyng the more disunited, for that men well ordered, feare the lawe beyng armed, as well as unarmed, nor thei can never alter, if the capitaines, which you give them, cause not the alteracion, and the waie to make this, shall be tolde now: but if the countrie where you ordein them, be warlike and disunited, this order onely shal be occasion to unite them: bicause this order giveth them armours profitable for the warre, and heddes, extinguishers of discencion: where their owne armours bee unprofitable for the warres, and their heddes nourishers of discorde. for that so sone as any in thesame countrie is offended, he resorteth by and by to his capitain to make complaint, who for to maintain his reputacion, comforteth hym to revengement not to peace. to the contrary doeth the publike hed, so that by this meanes, thoccasion of discorde is taken awaie, and the occasion of union is prepared, and the provinces united and effeminated, gette utilitie, and maintain union: the disunited and discencious, doe agree, and thesame their fearsnesse, which is wont disordinately to worke, is tourned into publike utilitie. to minde to have them, to doe no hurt against other, it ought to bee considered, that thei cannot dooe this, except by meane of the heddes, whiche governe them. to will that the heddes make no disorder, it is necessarie to have care, that thei get not over them to much auctoritie. and you must consider that this auctoritie, is gotten either by nature, or by accidente: and as to nature, it behoveth to provide, that he which is boren in one place, be not apoincted to the men billed in the same, but be made hedde of those places, where he hath not any naturall aquaintance: and as to the accident, the thing ought to be ordeined in suche maner, that every yere the heddes maie be changed from governement to goverment: for as muche as the continuall auctoritie over one sorte of menne, breedeth among them so muche union, that it maie turne easely to the prejudice of the prince: whiche permutations howe profitable they be to those who have used theim, and hurtefull to them that have not observed theim, it is well knowen by the kingdome of the assirians, and by the empire of the romaines: where is seene, that the same kingdome indured a m. yeres without tumulte, and without any civill warre: whiche preceded not of other, then of the permutations, whiche from place to place everie yere thesame capitaines made, unto whome were apoincted the charge of the armies. nor for any other occasion in the romaine empire, after the bloud of cesar was extinguished, there grewe so many civill warres, betwene the capitaines of the hostes, and so many conspiracies of the forsaied capitaines against the emperours, not onely kepyng continually still those capitaines alwayes in one governement. and if in some of those firste emperoures, of those after, whom helde the empire with reputacion, as adriane, marcus, severus, and soche like, there had been so moche foresight, that thei had brought this custome of chaungyng the capitaines in thesame empire, without doubte it should have made theim more quiete, and more durable: for that the capitaines should have had lesse occasion to make tumultes, the emperours lesse cause to feare, and the senate in the lackes of the successions, should have had in the election of the emperour, more aucthoritie, and by consequence should have been better: but the naughtie custome, either for ignoraunce, or through the little diligence of menne, neither for the wicked, nor good ensamples, can be taken awaie. cosimo. i cannot tell, if with my questionyng, i have as it were led you out of your order, bicause from the chusyng of men, we be entred into an other matter, and if i had not been a little before excused, i should thinke to deserve some reprehension. [sidenote: the nomber of horsemen, that the romanies chose for a legion, and for a consailes armie.] fabricio. let not this disquiete you, for that all this reasonyng was necessary, myndyng to reason of the ordinaunce, the which beyng blamed of many, it was requsite to excuse it, willyng to have this first parte of chusyng men to be alowed. but now before i discend to the other partes, i will reason of the choise of men on horsebacke. of the antiquitie, these were made of the moste richeste, havyng regard bothe to the yeres, and to the qualitie of the man, and thei chose ccc. for a legion, so that the romain horse, in every consulles armie, passed not the nomber of vi. c. cosimo. would you make an ordinaunce of hors, to exercise them at home, and to use their service when nede requires? [sidenote: the choosing and ordering of horsemen, that is to be observed at this present.] fabricio. it is most necessary, and it cannot be doen otherwise, minding to have the power, that it be the owne proper, and not to purpose to take of those, which make thereof an art. cosimo. how would you choose them? fabricio. i would imitate the romans, i would take of the richest, i would give them heads or chief captains, in the same manner, as nowadays to other is given, and i would arm them and exercise them. cosimo. to these should it be well to give some provision? fabricio. yea marie, but so much only as is necessary to keep the horse, for as much as bringing to thy subjects expenses, they might justly complain of thee, therefore it should be necessary, to pay them their charges of their horse. cosimo. what number would you make? and how would you arme them? fabricio. you pass into another matter. i will tell you in convenient place, which shall be when i have told you, how footmen ought to be armed, and how a power of men is prepared, for a day of battle. the second booke [sidenote: howe the romaines armed their souldiers and what weapons thei used.] i beleeve that it is necessarye, men being founde, to arme them, and minding to doo this, i suppose that it is a needefull thing to examine, what armoure the antiquitie used, and of the same to chose the best. the romanes devided their foote men in heavie and lighte armed: those that were light armed, they called by the name of veliti: under this name were understoode all those that threwe with slinges, shot with crossebowes, cast dartes, and they used the most parte of them for their defence, to weare on their heade a murion, with a targaet on their arme: they fought out of the orders, and farre of from the heavie armed, which did weare a head peece, that came downe to their shoulders, a corselet, which with the tases came downe to the knees, and they had the legges and armes, covered with greaves, and vambraces, with a targaet on the left arme, a yarde and a halfe long, and three quarters of a yarde brode, whiche had a hoope of iron upon it, to bee able to sustaine a blowe, and an other under, to the intente, that it being driven to the earth, it should not breake: for to offende, they had girte on their left flanke a swoorde, the length of a yearde and a naile, on their righte side, a dagger: they had a darte in every one of their handes, the which they called pilo, and in the beginning of the fight, they threwe those at the enemie. this was the ordering, and importaunce of the armours of the romanes, by the which they possessed all the world. and although some of these ancient writers gave them, besides the foresayde weapons, a staffe in their hande like unto a partasen, i cannot tell howe a heavy staff, may of him that holdeth a targaet be occupied: for that to handle it with both hands, the targaet should bee an impediment, and to occupye the same with one hande, there can be done no good therewith, by reason of the weightynesse thereof: besides this, to faight in the strong, and in the orders with such long kinde of weapon, it is unprofitable, except in the first front, where they have space enough, to thrust out all the staffe, which in the orders within, cannot be done, for that the nature of the battaile (as in the order of the same, i shall tell you) is continually to throng together, which although it be an inconvenience, yet in so doing they fear lesse, then to stande wide, where the perill is most evident, so that all the weapons, which passe in length a yarde and a halfe, in the throng, be unprofitable: for that, if a man have the partasen, and will occupye it with both handes, put case that the targaet let him not, he can not hurte with the same an enemy, whom is upon him, if he take it with one hande, to the intent to occupy also the targaet, being not able to take it, but in the middest, there remayneth so much of the staff behind, that those which are behinde him, shall let him to welde it. and whether it were true, either that the romans had not this partasen, or that having it, did little good withal, read all the battailes, in the historye thereof, celebrated of titus livius, and you shall see in the same, most seldom times made mencion of partasens, but rather alwaies he saieth, that the dartes being thrown, they laid their hands on their sweardes. therefore i will leave this staffe, and observe, concerning the romanes, the swoorde for to hurte, and for defense the targaet, with the other armours aforesaide. [sidenote: a brave and a terrible thing to the enemies.] the greekes did not arme them selves so heavyly, for their defense, as the romans dyd: but for to offend the enemies, they grounded more on their staves, then on their swoordes, and in especiallye the fallangye of macedonia, which used staves, that they called sarisse, seven yardes and a halfe long, with the which they opened the rankes of their enemies, and they keept the orders in their fallangy. and although some writers saie, that they had also the targaet, i can not tell (by the reasons aforesayde) howe the sarisse and they coulde stande together. besides this, in the battaile that paulus emilius made, with persa king of macedonia, i do not remember, that there is made any mention of targaettes, but only of the sarisse, and of the difficultie that the romane armie had, to overcome them: so that i conjecture, that a macedonicall fallange, was no other wise, then is now a dayes a battaile of suizzers, the whiche in their pikes have all their force, and all their power. the romanes did garnish (besides the armours) the footemen with feathers; the whiche thinges makes the fight of an armie to the friendes goodly, to the enemies terrible. the armour of the horsemen, in the same first romane antiquitie, was a rounde targaet, and they had their head armed, and the rest unarmed: they had a swoorde and a staffe, with an iron head onely before, long and small: whereby it happened, that they were not able to staye the targaet, and the staffe in the incountring broke, and they through being unarmed, were subjecte to hurtes: after, in processe of time, they armed them as the footemen, albeit they used the targaette muche shorter, square, and the staffe more stiffe, and with twoo heades, to the entente, that breaking one of the heades, they mighte prevaile with the other. with these armours as well on foote, as on horsebacke, the romanes conquered all the worlde, and it is to be beleeved, by the fruiet thereof, whiche is seene, that they were the beste appointed armies, that ever were: and titus livius in his history, doeth testifie verye often, where comming to comparison with the enemies armies, he saieth: but the romanes, by vertue, by the kinde of their armours, and piactise in the service of warre, were superiours: and therfore i have more particularly reasoned of the armours of conquerours, then of the conquered. but nowe mee thikes good, to reason onelye of the manner of arming men at this presente. footemen have for their defence, a breast plate, and for to offende, a launce, sixe yardes and three quarters long, which is called a pike, with a swoorde on their side, rather rounde at the poinct, then sharpe. this is the ordinarie arming of footemen nowe a dayes, for that fewe there be, which have their legges armed, and their armes, the heade none, and those fewe, beare insteede of a pike, a halberde, the staffe whereof as you know, is twoo yardes and a quarter long, and it hath the iron made like an axe. betweene them, they have harkebutters, the which with the violence of the fire, do the same office, which in olde time the slingers did, and the crosseboweshoters. this maner of arming, was found out by the dutchemen, inespeciallye of suizzers, whom being poore, and desirous to live free, they were, and be constrayned to fight, with the ambition of the princes of almaine, who being riche, were able to keepe horse, the which the same people could not do for povertye. wherby it grewe, that being on foote, minding to defende them selves from the enemies, that were on horsebacke, it behooveth them to seeke of the aunciente orders, and to finde weapons, whiche from the furie of horses, should defende them: this necessitie hath made either to be maintayned, or to bee founde of them the aunciente orders, without whiche, as everye prudente man affirmeth, the footemen is altogether unprofitable. therefore, they tooke for their weapon the pike, a moste profitable weapon, not only to withstande horses, but to overcome them: and the dutchemen have by vertue of these weapons, and of these orders, taken such boldnesse, that xv. or xx. thousande of them, will assault the greatest nomber of horse that maye be: and of this, there hath beene experience enough within this xxv. yeres. and the insamples of their vertue hath bene so mightie, grounded upon these weapons, and these orders, that sence king charles passed into italie, everye nation hath imitated them: so that the spanish armies, are become into most great reputation. cosimo. which maner of arming, do you praise moste, either these dutchemens, or the auncient romanes? [sidenote: whether the romanes maner in arming of men, be better then the arming of men, that is used nowe a daies.] fabricio. the romane without doubte, and i will tell the commoditie, and the discommoditie of the one, and the other. the dutche footemen, are able to withstande, and overcome the horses: they bee moste speedie to marche, and to be set in araye, being not laden with armours: of the other part, they be subjecte to all blowes, both farre of, and at hande: because they be unarmed, they bee unprofitable unto the battaile on the lande, and to everye fighte, where is strong resistaunce. but the romanes withstoode, and overcame the horses, as well as the dutchemen, they were safe from blowes at hande, and farre of, being covered with armours: they were also better able to charge, and better able to sustaine charges, having targaettes: they might more aptly in the preace fight with the swoorde, then these with the pike, and though the dutchemen have likewise swoordes, yet being without targaets, they become in suche case unprofitable: the romanes might safelye assault townes, having their bodies cleane covered with armour, and being better able to cover themselves with their targaettes. so that they had no other incommoditie, then the waightynesse of their armours, and the pain to cary them: the whiche thinges thei overcame, with accustomyng the body to diseases, and with hardenyng it, to bee able to indure labour. and you knowe, how that in thinges accustomed, men suffer no grief. and you have to understand this, that the footemen maie be constrained, to faight with footemen, and with horse, and alwaies those be unprofitable, whiche cannot either sustain the horses, or beyng able to sustain them, have notwithstandyng neede to feare the footemen, whiche be better armed, and better ordeined then thei. now if you consider the duchemen, and the romaines, you shall finde in the duchemen activitie (as we have said) to overcome the horses, but greate dissavauntage, when thei faighte with menne, ordeined as thei them selves are, and armed as the romaines were: so that there shall be this advauntage more of the one, then of thother, that the romaines could overcome the men, and the horses, the duchemen onely the horses. cosimo. i would desire, that you would come to some more particulare insample, whereby wee maie better understande. [sidenote: an ensample whiche proveth that horsemen with staves, cannot prevaile against footemen with pikes, and what great advauntage the armed have, againste the unarmed. the victory of carminvola against the duchemen.] fabricio. i saie thus, that you shall finde in many places of our histories, the romain footemen to have overcome innumerable horses, and you shall never finde, that thei have been overcome of men on foote, for default that thei have had in their armour, or thorowe the vantage that the enemie hath had in the armours: for that if the maner of their armyng, should have had defaulte, it had been necessarie, that there should folowe, the one of these twoo thynges, either that findyng soche, as should arme theim better then thei, thei should not have gone still forwardes, with their conquestes, or that thei should have taken the straungers maners, and should have left their owne, and for that it folowed not in the one thing, nor in the other, there groweth that ther maie be easely conjectured, that the maner of their armyng, was better then thesame of any other. it is not yet thus happened to the duchemen, for that naughtie profe, hath ben seen made them, when soever thei have chaunsed to faight with men on foote prepared, and as obstinate as thei, the whiche is growen of the vauntage, whiche thesame have incountred in thenemies armours. philip vicecounte of milaine, being assaulted of xviii. thousande suizzers, sent against theim the counte carminvola, whiche then was his capitaine. he with sixe thousande horse, and a fewe footemen, went to mete with them, and incounteryng theim, he was repulsed with his moste greate losse: wherby carminvola as a prudente man, knewe straight waie the puisaunce of the enemies weapons, and how moche against the horses thei prevailed, and the debilitie of the horses, againste those on foote so appoincted: and gatheryng his men together again, he went to finde the suizzers, and so sone as he was nere them, he made his men of armes, to a light from their horse, and in thesame mane, faightyng with them he slue theim all, excepte three thousande: the whiche seyng them selves to consume, without havyng reamedy, castyng their weapons to the grounde, yelded. cosimo. whereof cometh so moche disavauntage? [sidenote: the battailes when thei are a faightyng, doe throng together.] fabricio. i have a little afore tolde you, but seyng that you have not understoode it, i will rehearse it againe. the duchemen (as a little before i saied unto you) as it were unarmed, to defende themselves, have to offende, the pike and the swearde: thei come with these weapons, and with their orders to finde the enemies, whom if thei bee well armed, to defende theim selves, as were the menne of armes of carminvola, whiche made theim a lighte on foote, thei come with the sweard, and in their orders to find them, and have no other difficultie, then to come nere to the suizzers, so that thei maie reche them with the sweard, for that so sone as thei have gotten unto them, thei faight safely: for asmoche as the duch man cannot strike thenemie with the pike, whom is upon him, for the length of the staffe, wherefore it is conveniente for hym, to put the hande to the sweard, the whiche to hym is unprofitable, he beyng unarmed, and havyng against hym an enemie, that is all armed. whereby he that considereth the vantage, and the disavantage of the one, and of the other, shall see, how the unarmed, shall have no maner of remeady, and the overcommyng of the firste faight, and to passe the firste poinctes of the pikes, is not moche difficulte, he that faighteth beyng well armed: for that the battailes go (as you shall better understande, when i have shewed you, how thei are set together) and incounteryng the one the other, of necessitie thei thrust together, after soche sorte, that thei take the one thother by the bosome, and though by the pikes some bee slaine, or overthrowen, those that remain on their feete, be so many, that thei suffice to obtaine the victorie. hereof it grewe, that carminvola overcame them, with so greate slaughter of the suizzers, and with little losse of his. cosimo. consider that those of carminvola, were men of armes, whom although thei wer on foote, thei were covered all with stele, and therefore thei wer able to make the profe thei did: so that me thinkes, that a power ought to be armed as thei, mindyng to make the verie same profe. fabricio. if you should remember, how i tolde you the romaines were armed, you would not thynke so: for as moche as a manne, that hath the hedde covered with iron, the breaste defended of a corselet, and of a targaet, the armes and the legges armed, is moche more apt to defende hymself from the pike, and to enter emong them, then a man of armes on foote. i wil give you a little of a late ensample. there wer come out of cicelie, into the kyngdome of naples, a power of spaniardes, for to go to finde consalvo, who was besieged in barlet, of the frenchemen: there made against theim mounsier de vhigni, with his menne of armes, and with aboute fower thousande duchemen on foote: the duchemen incountered with their pikes lowe, and thei opened the power of the spaniardes: but those beyng holp, by meane of their bucklers and of the agiletie of their bodies, mingled togethers with the duchemen, so that thei might reche them with the swearde, whereby happened the death, almoste of all theim, and the victorie to the spaniardes. every man knoweth, how many duchemen were slaine in the battaile of ravenna, the whiche happened by the verie same occasion: for that the spanishe souldiours, got them within a swerdes length of the duche souldiours, and thei had destroied them all, if of the frenche horsemen, the duchemen on foote, had not been succored: notwithstandyng, the spaniardes close together, brought themselves into a safe place. i conclude therefore, that a good power ought not onely to be able, to withstande the horses, but also not to have fear of menne on foote, the which (as i have many tymes saied) procedeth of the armours, and of the order. [sidenote: how to arme men, and what weapons to appoincte theim, after the romaine maner, and duche facion.] cosimo. tell therefore, how you would arme them? fabricio. i would take of the romaine armours, and of the duchemennes weapons, and i would that the one haulfe, should bee appoincted like the romaines, and the other haulfe like the duchemen: for that if in sixe thousande footemen (as i shall tell you a little hereafter) i should have thre thousande men with targaettes, after the romain maner, and two thousande pikes, and a thousand harkebutters, after the duche facion, thei should sufice me: for that i would place the pikes, either in the fronte of the battaile, or where i should feare moste the horses, and those with the targaetes and sweardes, shall serve me to make a backe to the pikes, and to winne the battaile, as i shall shewe you: so that i beleeve, that a power thus ordayned, should overcome at this daye, any other power. cosimo. this which hath beene saide, sufficeth concerning footemen, but concerning horsemen, wee desire to understand which you thinke more stronger armed, either ours, or the antiquitie. [sidenote: the victorie of lucullo, against tiarane king of armenia; for what pupose horsemen be most requisite.] fabricio. i beleeve that in these daies, having respect to the saddelles bolstered, and to the stiroppes not used of the antiquitie, they stande more stronglye on horsebacke, then in the olde time: i thinke also they arme them more sure: so that at this daye, a bande of men of armes, paysing very muche, commeth to be with more difficultie withstoode, then were the horsemen of old time: notwithstanding for all this, i judge, that there ought not to be made more accompt of horses, then in olde time was made, for that (as afore is sayde) manye times in our dayes, they have with the footemen receyved shame and shall receyve alwayes, where they incounter, with a power of footemen armed, and ordered, as above hath bene declared. tigrane king of armenia, had againste the armie of the romanes, wherof was capitayne lucullo, cl. thousande horsemen, amongest the whiche, were many armed, like unto our men of armes, which they called catafratti, and of the other parte, the romanes were about sixe thousande, with xxv. thousand footemen: so that tigrane seeing the armie of the enemies, saide: these be horses enough for an imbassage: notwithstanding, incountering together, he was overthrowen: and he that writeth of the same fighte, disprayseth those catafratti, declaring them to be unprofitable; for that hee sayeth, because they had their faces covered, they had muche a doe to see, and to offende the enemie, and they falling, being laden with armour coulde not rise up again, nor welde themselves in any maner to prevaile. i say therefore, that those people or kingdomes, whiche shall esteeme more the power of horses, then the power of footemen be alwaies weake, and subjecte to all ruine, as by italie hath been seene in our time, the whiche hath beene taken, ruinated, and over run with straungers, through not other fault, then for having taken litle care, of the service on foote, and being brought the souldiours therof, all on horsebacke. yet there ought to bee had horses, but for seconde, and not for firste foundaion of an armie: for that to make a discovery, to over run and to destroy the enemies countrie, and to keepe troubled and disquieted, the armie of the same, and in their armours alwayes, to let them of their victuals, they are necessary, and most profitable: but concerning for the daye of battaile, and for the fighte in the fielde, whiche is the importaunce of the warre, and the ende, for which the armies are ordeined, they are more meeter to follow the enemie being discomfited then to do any other thing which in the same is to be done, and they bee in comparison, to the footemen much inferiour. cosimo. there is happened unto mee twoo doubtes, the one, where i knowe, that the parthians dyd not use in the warre, other then horses, and yet they devided the worlde with the romanes: the other is, that i woulde that you should shewe, howe the horsemen can be withstoode of footemen, and wherof groweth the strength of these, and the debilitie of those? [sidenote: the reason why footmen are able to overcome horsemen; how footmen maie save them selves from horsemen; the exercise of souldiours, ought to be devided into thre partes; what exercises the auncient common weales used to exercise their youth in, and what commoditie insued thereby; how the antiquitie, learned their yong soldiours, to handell their weapons; what thantiquitie estemed moste happie in a common weale; mouster maisters; for thexercisyng of yong men unexperte.] fabricio. either i have tolde you, or i minded to tell you, howe that my reasoning of the affaires of warre, ought not to passe the boundes of europe: when thus it is, i am not bounde unto you, to make accompte of the same, which is used in asia, yet i muste saye unto you thus, that the warring of the parthians, was altogether contrarye, to the same of the romanes: for as muche as the parthians, warred all on horsebacke, and in the fight, they proceeded confusedlye, and scattered, and it was a maner of fighte unstable, and full of uncertaintie. the romanes were (it maye be sayde) almoste al on foote, and thei fought close together and sure, and thei overcame diversly, the one the other, according to the largenesse, or straightnesse of the situation: for that in this the romaines were superiours, in thesame the parthians, whom might make greate proofe, with thesame maner of warryng, consideryng the region, which thei had to defende, the which was moste large: for as moche as it hath the sea coaste, distant a thousande miles, the rivers thone from thother, twoo or three daies journey, the tounes in like maner and the inhabitauntes few: so that a romaine armie heavie and slowe, by meanes of their armoures, and their orders, could not over run it, without their grevous hurt (those that defended it, being on horsebacke mooste expedite) so that thei were to daie in one place, and to morowe distaunt fiftie miles. hereof it grewe, that the parthians might prevaile with their chivalrie onely, bothe to the ruine of the armie of crassus, and to the perill of thesame, of marcus antonius: but i (as i have told you) doe not intende in this my reasonyng, to speake of the warfare out of europe, therfore i will stand upon thesame, whiche in times past, the romaines ordained, and the grekes, and as the duchemen doe now adaies. but let us se to the other question of yours, where you desire to understande, what order, or what naturall vertue makes, that the footemen overcome the horsmen. and i saie unto you first that the horses cannot go, as the footmen in every place: thei are slower then the footemen to obeie, when it is requisite to alter the order: for as moche, as if it be nedefull, either goyng forward, to turne backwarde, or tournyng backwarde, to go forwarde, or to move themselves standing stil, or goyng to stand still, without doubt, the horsemen cannot dooe it so redilie as the footemen: the horsemen cannot, being of some violence, disordained, returne in their orders, but with difficultie, although thesame violence cease, the whiche the footemen dooe moste easely and quickly. besides this, it happeneth many tymes, that a hardie manne shall be upon a vile horse, and a coward upon a good, whereby it foloweth, that this evill matchyng of stomackes, makes disorder. nor no man doeth marvell, that a bande of footemenne, susteineth all violence of horse for that a horse is a beaste, that hath sence, and knoweth the perilles, and with an ill will, will enter in them: and if you consider, what force maketh theim go forwarde, and what holdeth them backwarde, you shall se without doubt thesame to be greater, whiche kepeth them backe, then that whiche maketh them go forwardes: for that the spurre maketh theim go forwarde, and of the other side, either the swearde, or the pike, kepeth theim backe: so that it hath been seen by the olde, and by the late experience, a bande of footemen to bee moste safe, ye, invinsible for horses. and if you should argue to this, that the heate, with whiche thei come, maketh theim more furious to incounter who that would withstande them, and lesse to regard the pike, then the spurre: i saie, that if the horse so disposed, begin to see, that he must run upon the poincte of the pike, either of himself, he wil refrain the course so that so sone as he shall feele himself pricked, he will stande still atones, or beeyng come to theim, he will tourne on the right, or on the lefte hande. whereof if you wil make experience, prove to run a horse against a walle: you shall finde fewe, with what so ever furie he come withall, will strike against it. cesar havyng in fraunce, to faighte with the suizzers, a lighted, and made every manne a light on foote, and to avoide from the araies, the horses, as a thyng more meete to flie, then to faight. but notwithstandyng these naturall impedimentes, whiche horses have, thesame capitaine, whiche leadeth the footemen, ought to chuse waies, whiche have for horse, the moste impedimentes that maie bee, and seldome tymes it happeneth, but that a manne maie save hymself, by the qualitie of the countrie: for that if thou marche on the hilles, the situacion doeth save thee from thesame furie, whereof you doubt, that thei go withail in the plain, fewe plaines be, whiche through the tillage or by meanes of the woddes, doe not assure thee: for that every hillocke, every bancke, although it be but small, taketh awaie thesame heate, and every culture where bee vines, and other trees, lettes the horses: and if thou come to battaile, the very same lettes happeneth, that chaunceth in marchyng: for as moche as every little impedemente, that the horse hath, abateth his furie. one thyng notwithstandyng, i will not forgette to tell you, how the romaines estemed so moche their orders, and trusted so moche to their weapons, that if thei shuld have had, to chuse either so rough a place to save theim selves from horses, where thei should not have been able, to raunge their orders, or a place where thei should have nede, to feare more of horses, but ben able to deffende their battaile, alwaies thei toke this, and left that: but bicause it is tyme, to passe to the armie, having armed these souldiours, accordyng to the aunciente and newe use, let us see what exercises the romaines caused theim make, before the menne were brought to the battaile. although thei be well chosen, and better armed, thei ought with moste greate studie be exercised, for that without this exercise, there was never any souldiour good: these exercises ought to be devided into three partes, the one, for to harden the bodie, and to make it apte to take paines, and to bee more swifter and more readier, the other, to teach them, how to handell their weapons, the third, for to learne them to kepe the orders in the armie, as well in marchyng, as in faightyng, and in the incampyng: the whiche be three principall actes, that an armie doeth: for asmoche, as if an armie marche, incampe, and faight with order, and expertly, the capitaine leseth not his honoure, although the battaile should have no good ende. therfore, all thauncient common weales, provided these exercises in maner, by custome, and by lawe, that there should not be left behinde any part thereof. thei exercised then their youth, for to make them swift, in runnyng, to make theim readie, in leapyng, for to make them strong, in throwyng the barre, or in wrestlyng: and these three qualities, be as it were necessarie in souldiours. for that swiftnesse, maketh theim apte to possesse places, before the enemie, and to come to them unloked for, and at unwares to pursue them, when thei are discomfaicted: the readinesse, maketh theim apte to avoide a blowe, to leape over a diche, to winne a banke: strength, maketh them the better able to beare their armours, to incounter the enemie, to withstande a violence. and above all, to make the bodie the more apte to take paines, thei used to beare greate burthens, the whiche custome is necessarie: for that in difficulte expedicions it is requisite many tymes, that the souldiour beside his armours, beare vitualles for many daies, and if he were not accustomed to this labour, he could not dooe it: and without this, there can neither bee avoided a perill, nor a victorie gotten with fame. concernyng to learne how to handell the weapons, thei exercised theim, in this maner: thei would have the yong menne, to put on armour, whiche should waie twise as moche, as their field armour, and in stede of a swearde, thei gave them a cudgell leaded, whiche in comparison of a verie swearde in deede, was moste heavie; thei made for every one of them, a poste to be set up in the ground, which should be in height twoo yardes and a quarter, and in soche maner, and so strong, that the blowes should not slur nor hurle it doune, against the whiche poste, the yong man with a targaet, and with the cudgell, as against an enemie did exercise, and some whiles he stroke, as though he would hurte the hedde, or the face, somewhile he retired backe, an other while he made forewarde: and thei had in this exercise, this advertisment, to make theim apt to cover theim selves, and to hurte the enemie: and havyng the counterfaight armours moste heavy, their ordinarie armours semed after unto them more lighter. the romanies, would that their souldiours should hurte with the pricke, and not with the cutte, as well bicause the pricke is more mortalle, and hath lesse defence, as also to thentent that he that should hurt, might lye the lesse open, and be more apt to redouble it, then with cuttes. dooe not marvaile that these auncient men, should thinke on these small thynges, for that where the incounteryng of men is reasoned of, you shall perceive, that every little vauntage, is of greate importaunce: and i remember you the same, whiche the writers of this declare, rather then i to teache you. the antiquitie estemed nothing move happie, in a common weale, then to be in thesame, many men exercised in armes: bicause not the shining of precious stones and of golde, maketh that the enemies submit themselves unto thee, but onely the fear of the weapons: afterwarde the errours whiche are made in other thynges, maie sometymes be corrected, but those whiche are dooen in the warre, the paine straight waie commyng on, cannot be amended. besides that, the knowlege to faight, maketh men more bold, bicause no man feareth to doe that thing, which he thinketh to have learned to dooe. the antiquitie would therefore, that their citezeins should exercise themselves, in all marcial feates, and thei made them to throwe against thesame poste, dartes moche hevier then the ordinarie: the whiche exercise, besides the makyng men expert in throwyng, maketh also the arme more nimble, and moche stronger. thei taught them also to shote in the long bowe, to whorle with the sling: and to all these thynges, thei appoincted maisters, in soche maner, that after when thei were chosen for to go to the warre, thei were now with mynde and disposicion, souldiours. nor there remained them to learn other, then to go in the orders, and to maintain them selves in those, either marchyng, or faightyng: the whiche moste easely thei learned, mingeling themselves with those, whiche had long tyme served, whereby thei knewe how to stande in the orders. cosimo. what exercises would you cause theim to make at this present? [sidenote: the exercises that souldiers ought to make in these daies; the exercise of swimmyng; tiber, is a river runnyng through rome the water wher of will never corrupte; thexercise of vautyng, and the commoditie thereof; an order that is taken in certain countries, concerning exercises of warre; what knowledge a souldiour ought to have; a cohorte is a bande of men; of what nomer and of what kind of armours and weapons, a maine battaile ought to bee, and the distributing and appoinetyng of thesame; veliti are light armed men; thecapitaines that ar appointed to every band of men; twoo orders observed in an armie; how a captain muste instructe muste instructe his souldiours how thei ought to governe themselves in the battaile.] fabricio. a good many of those, whiche have been declared, as runnyng, and wrestlyng, makyng theim to leape, makyng theim to labour in armours, moche heavier then the ordinarie, making them shoote with crosse bowes, and longe bowes, whereunto i would joyne the harkabus, a newe instrument (as you know) verie necessarie, and to these exercises i would use, al the youth of my state, but with greater industrie, and more sollicitatenesse thesame parte, whiche i should have alreadie appoincted to serve, and alwaies in the idell daies, thei should bee exercised. i would also that thei should learne to swimme, the whiche is a thyng verie profitable: for that there be not alwaies bridges over rivers, boates be not alwaies readie: so that thy army not knowyng howe to swime, remaineth deprived of many commodities: and many occasions to woorke well, is taken awaie. the romaines for none other cause had ordained, that the yong men should exercise them selves in campus martius, then onely, for that havyng tiber at hande, thei might, beyng weried with the exercise on lande, refreshe theim selves in the water, and partly in swimmyng, to exercise them selves. i would make also, as the antiquitie, those whiche should serve on horsebacke to exercise, the whiche is moste necessarie, for that besides to know how to ride, thei muste knowe how on horsebacke thei maie prevaile of them selves. and for this thei had ordeined horses of wood, upon the which thei practised, to leape by armed, and unarmed, without any helpe, and on every hande: the whiche made, that atones, and at a beck of a capitain, the horsmen were on foote, and likewise at a token, thei mounted on horsebacke. and soche exercises, bothe on foote and on horsebacke, as thei were then easie to bee doen, so now thei should not be difficult to thesame common weale, or to thesame prince, whiche would cause them to be put in practise of their yong men. as by experience is seen, in certaine citees of the weste countrie, where is kepte a live like maners with this order. thei devide all their inhabiters into divers partes: and every parte thei name of the kinde of those weapons, that thei use in the warre. and for that thei use pikes, halbardes, bowes, and harkebuses, thei call them pike menne, halberders, harkebutters, and archars: therefore, it is mete for all the inhabiters to declare, in what orders thei will be appoincted in. and for that all men, either for age, or for other impedimentes, be not fitte for the warre, every order maketh a choise of men, and thei call them the sworen, whom in idell daies, be bounde to exercise themselves in those weapons, wherof thei be named: and every manne hath his place appoincted hym of the cominaltie, where soche exercise ought to be made: and those whiche be of thesame order, but not of the sworen, are contributaries with their money, to thesame expenses, whiche in soche exercises be necessarie: therfore thesame that thei doe, we maie doe. but our smal prudence dooeth not suffre us, to take any good waie. of these exercises there grewe, that the antiquitie had good souldiours, and that now those of the weste, bee better men then ours: for as moche as the antiquitie exercised them, either at home (as those common weales doe) or in the armies, as those emperours did, for thoccasions aforesaied: but we, at home will not exercise theim, in campe we cannot, bicause thei are not our subjectes, and for that we are not able to binde them to other exercises then thei them selves liste to doe: the whiche occacion hath made, that firste the armies bee neclected, and after, the orders, and that the kyngdomes, and the common weales, in especially italians, live in soche debilitie. but let us tourne to our order, and folowyng this matter of exercises, i saie, how it suffiseth not to make good armies, for havyng hardened the men, made them strong, swift, and handsome, it is nedefull also, that thei learne to stande in the orders, to obeie to signes, to soundes, and to the voice of the capitain: to knowe, standyng, to retire them selves, goyng forwardes, bothe faightyng, and marchyng to maintain those: bicause without this knowlege, withal serious diligence observed, and practised, there was never armie good: and without doubt, the fierce and disordered menne, bee moche more weaker, then the fearfull that are ordered, for that thorder driveth awaie from men feare, the disorder abateth fiercenesse. and to the entente you maie the better perceive that, whiche here folowyng shalbe declared, you have to understande, how every nation, in the orderyng of their men to the warre, have made in their hoste, or in their armie, a principall member, the whiche though thei have varied with the name, thei have little varied with the nomber of the menne: for that thei all have made it, betwene sixe and viii. m. men. this nomber of men was called of the romaines, a legion, of grekes a fallange, of frenchemen caterva: this verie same in our tyme of the suizzers, whom onely of the auncient warfare, kepe some shadowe, is called in their tongue that, whiche in ours signifieththe maine battaile. true it is, that every one of them, hath after devided it, accordyng to their purposes. therefore me thinkes beste, that wee grounde our talke, upon this name moste knowen, and after, according to the aunciente, and to the orders now adaies, the beste that is possible to ordaine it; and bicause the romaines devided their legion, whiche was made betwene five and sixe thousande men, in ten cohortes, i will that wee devide our main battaile, into ten battailes, and that we make it of sixe thousande menne on foote, and we will give to every battaile, ccccl. men, of whiche shall be, cccc. armed with heavie armour, and l. with light armour: the heavie armed, shall be ccc. targettes with sweardes, and shalbe called target men: and c. with pikes, whiche shalbe called ordinarie pikes: the light armed shalbe, l. men armed with harkabuses, crosse bowes, and partisans, and smal targaettes, and these by an aunciente name, were called ordinarie veliti: all of the ten battailes therefore, comes to have three thousande targaet men, a thousande ordinarie pikes, cccc. ordinarie veliti, all whiche make the nomber of fower thousande and five hundred men. and we saied, that we would make the maine battaile of six thousande; therefore there must be added an other thousande, five hundred men, of whiche i will appoinet a thousande with pikes, whom i will call extraordinarie veliti, and thus my menne should come (as a little before i have saied) to bee made halfe of targaetes, and halfe of pikes and other weapons. i would appoinete to everie battaile, or bande of men, a conestable, fower centurions and fouretic peticapitaines, and moreover a hedde to the ordinarie veliti. with five peticapitaines; i would give to the thousande extraordinarie pikes, three conestabelles, ten centurions, and a hundred peticapitaines; to the extraodrinarie veliti, two conestabelles, v. centurions, and l. peticapitaines: i would then apoinet a generall hed, over all the main battaile: i would that every conestable should have an ansigne, and a drum. thus there should be made a manne battaile of ten battailes, of three thousande targaet men, of a thousande ordinarie pikes, of a thousande extraordinarie of five hundred ordinarie veliti, of five hundred extraordinarie, so there should come to bee sixe thousande men, emongeste the whiche there should bee m.d. peticapitaines, and moreover, xv. conestables, with xv. drummes, and xv. ansignes, lv. centurions, x. heddes of the ordinarie veliti, and a capitaine over all the maine battaile with his asigne and drume, and i have of purpose repeated this order the oftener, to the intent, that after when i shall shewe you, the maners of orderyng the battailes, and tharmies, you should not be confounded: i saie therefore, how that, that king, or that common weale, whiche intendeth to ordeine their subjectes to armes, ought to appoincte theim with these armoures and weapons, and with these partes, and to make in their countrie so many maine battailes, as it were able: and when thei should have ordained them, according to the forsaid distribucion, minding to exercise them in the orders, it should suffice to exercise every battaile by it self: and although the nomber of the men, of every one of them, cannot by it self, make the facion of a juste armie, notwithstandyng, every man maie learne to dooe thesame, whiche particularly appertaineth unto hym: for that in the armies, twoo orders is observed, the one, thesame that the men ought to doe in every battaile, and the other that, whiche the battaile ought to doe after, when it is with the other in an armie. and those men, whiche doe wel the first, mooste easely maie observe the seconde: but without knowyng thesame, thei can never come to the knowlege of the seconde. then (as i have saied) every one of these battailes, maie by them selves, learne to kepe the orders of the araies, in every qualitie of movyng, and of place, and after learne to put them selves togethers, to understande the soundes, by meanes wherof in the faight thei are commaunded, to learne to know by that, as the gallics by the whissell, what ought to be doen, either to stande still, or to tourne forward, or to tourne backwarde or whiche waie to tourne the weapons, and the face: so that knowyng how to kepe well the araie, after soche sorte, that neither place nor movyng maie disorder them, understandyng well the commaundementes of their heddes, by meanes of the sounde, and knowyng quickly, how to retourne into their place, these battailes maie after easly (as i have said) beyng brought many together, learne to do that, whiche all the body together, with the other battailes in a juste armie, is bounde to dooe. and bicause soche universall practise, is also not to bee estemed a little, ones or twise a yere, when there is peace, all the main battaile maie be brought together, to give it the facion of an whole armie, some daies exercisyng theim, as though thei should faight a fielde, settyng the fronte, and the sides with their succours in their places. and bicause a capitaine ordeineth his hoste to the fielde, either for coumpte of the enemie he seeth, or for that, of whiche without seyng he doubteth, he ought to exercise his armie in the one maner, and in the other, and to instructe theim in soche sorte, that thei maie knowe how to marche, and to faight, when nede should require, the wyng to his souldiours, how thei should governe theim selves, when thei should happen to be assaulted of this, or of that side: and where he ought to instructe theim how to faight againste the enemie, whom thei should see: he must shewe them also, how the faight is begun, and where thei ought to retire: being overthrowen, who hath to succeade in their places, to what signes, to what soundes, to what voices, thei ought to obeie, and to practise them in soche wise in the battaile, and with fained assaultes, that thei may desire the verie thyng in deede. for that an armie is not made coragious, bicause in thesame be hardie menne, but by reason the orders thereof bee well appoineted: for as moche as if i be one of the first faighters, and do knowe, beyng overcome, where i maie retire, and who hath to succeade in my place, i shall alwaies faight with boldnes, seing my succour at hand. if i shall be one of the seconde faighters, the first being driven backe, and overthrowen, i shall not bee afraied, for that i shall have presuposed that i maie bee, and i shall have desire to be thesame, whiche maie give the victory to my maister, and not to bee any of the other. these exercises bee moste necessarie, where an armie is made of newe, and where the old armie is, thei bee also necessarie: for that it is also seen, how the romaines knew from their infancie, thorder of their armies, notwithstandyng, those capitaines before thei should come to thenemie, continually did exercise them in those. and josephus in his historie saieth, that the continuall exercises of the romaine armies, made that all thesame multitude, whiche folowe the campe for gain, was in the daie of battaile profitable: bicause thei all knewe, how to stande in the orders, and to faight kepyng the same: but in the armies of newe men, whether thou have putte theim together, to faight straight waie, or that thou make a power to faight, when neede requires, without these exercises, as well of the battailes severally by themselves, as of all the armie, is made nothing: wherefore the orders beying necessarie, it is conveniente with double industrie and laboure, to shewe them unto soche as knoweth them not, and for to teache it, many excellent capitaines have travailed, without any respecte. cosimo. my thinkes that this reasoning, hath sumwhat transported you: for asmoche, as havyng not yet declared the waies, with the whiche the battailes bee exercised, you have reasoned of the whole armie, and of the daie of battaile. [sidenote: the chief importance in the exercisyng of bandes of men; three principall for thorderyng of menne into battaile raie; the manner how to bryng a bande of men into battaile raie after a square facion; the better waie for the ordring of a band of men in battaile raie, after the first facion; how to exercise men, and to take soche order, whereby a band of men that were by whatsoever chance disordred maye straighte wai be brought into order againe; what advertisement ought to bee used in tourning about a whole bande of menne, after soche sorte, as though it were but one bodie; how to order a band of menne after soche sort that thei maie make their front againste thenemie of whiche flanke thei list; how a band of man oughte to be ordered, when in marchyng thei should bee constrained to faighton their backes.] fabricio. you saie truth, but surely thoccasion hath been the affection, whiche i beare to these orders, and the grief that i feele, seyng thei be not put in use: notwithstanding, doubt not but that i will tourne to the purpose: as i have saied, the chief importaunce that is in thexercise of the battailes, is to knowe how to kepe well the armies: and bicause i tolde you that one of these battailes, ought to bee made of fower hundred men heavie armed, i wil staie my self upon this nomber. thei ought then to be brought into lxxx. rankes, and five to a ranke: afterward goyng fast, or softly, to knit them together, and to lose them: the whiche how it is dooen, maie bee shewed better with deedes, then with wordes. which nedeth not gretly to be taught, for that every manne, whom is practised in servise of warre, knoweth how this order procedeth, whiche is good for no other, then to use the souldiours to keepe the raie: but let us come to putte together one of these battailes, i saie, that there is given them three facions principally, the firste, and the moste profitablest is, to make al massive, and to give it the facion of two squares, the second is, to make it square with the front horned, the thirde is, to make it with a voide space in the middest: the maner to put men together in the first facion, maie be of twoo sortes, tho together in the first facion, maie be of twoo sortes, thone is to double the rankes, that is, to make the seconde ranke enter into the first, the iiii. into the third, the sixt into the fift, and so foorth, so that where there was lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, thei maie become xl. rankes, x. to a ranke. afterward cause theim to double ones more in thesame maner, settyng the one ranke into an other, and so there shall remain twentie rankes, twentie men to a ranke: this maketh twoo squares aboute, for as moche as albeit that there bee as many men the one waie, as in the other, notwithstandyng to wardes the hedde, thei joine together, that the one side toucheth the other: but by the other waie, thei be distant the one from the other, at least a yarde and a haulfe, after soche sorte, that the square is moche longer, from the backe to the fronte, then from the one side to thother: and bicause we have at this presente, to speake often of the partes afore, of behinde, and of the sides of these battailes, and of all the armie together, knowe you, that when i saie either hedde or fronte, i meane the parte afore, when i shall saie backe, the part behind, when i shall saie flankes, the partes on the sides. the fiftie ordinarie veliti of the battaile, muste not mingle with the other rankes, but so sone as the battaile is facioned, thei shalbe set a long by the flankes therof. the other waie to set together the battaile is this, and bicause it is better then the firste, i will set it before your ives juste, how it ought to bee ordeined. i beleve that you remember of what nomber of menne, of what heddes it is made, and of what armours thei are armed, then the facion, that this battaile ought to have, is (as i have saied) of twentie rankes, twentie men to a ranke, five rankes of pikes in the front, and fiftene rankes of targaettes on the backe, twoo centurions standying in the fronte, twoo behinde on the backe, who shall execute the office of those, whiche the antiquitie called tergiductori. the conestable with the ansigne, and with the drumme, shall stande in thesame space, that is betwene the five rankes of the pikes, and the fiftene of the targeaettes. of the peticapitaines, there shall stande one upon every side of the ranckes, so that every one, maie have on his side his men, those peticapitaines, whiche shalbe on the left hande, to have their men on the right hand, those peticapitaines, whiche shall be on the right hand, to have their menne on the left hande: the fiftie veliti, muste stande a long the flankes, and on the backe of the battaile. to mynde now, that this battaile maie be set together in this facion, the men goyng ordinarily, it is convenient to order them thus. make the men to be brought into lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, as a little afore we have said, leavyng the veliti either at the hedde, or at the taile, so that thei stande out of this order: and it ought to be ordeined, that every centurion have behinde his back twentie rankes, and to bee nexte behinde every centurion, five rankes of pikes, and the reste targaettes. the conestable shall stande with the drum, and the ansigne, in thesame space, whiche is betwene the pikes, and the targaettes of the seconde centurion, and to occupie the places of three targaette men. of the peticapitaines, twentie shall stand on the sides of the rankes, of the first centurion, on the lefte hande, and twentie shall stande on the sides of the rankes, of the last centurion on the right hande. and you muste understande, that the peticapitaine, whiche hath to leade the pikes, ought to have a pike, and those that leade the targaettes, ought to have like weapons. then the rankes beyng brought into this order, and mindyng in marchyng, to bryng them into battaile, for to make the hedde, the first centurion must be caused to stande still, with the firste twentie rankes, and the seconde to proceade marchyng, and tournyng on the right hand, he must go a long the sides of the twentie rankes that stande still, till he come to bee even with the other centurion, where he must also stande still, and the thirde centurion to procede marchyng, likewise tournyng on the right hand, and a long the sides of the rankes that stande still, must go so farre, that he be even with the other twoo centurions, and he also standyng still, the other centurion must folowe with his rankes, likewise tournyng on the right hande, a longe the sides of the rankes that stande still, so farre that he come to the hed of the other, and then to stand still, and straight waie twoo centurions onely, shall depart from the front, and go to the backe of the battaile, the whiche cometh to bee made in thesame maner, and with thesame order juste, as a little afore i have shewed you. the veliti muste stande a long, by the flankes of thesame, accordyng as is disposed in the first waie, whiche waie is called redoublyng by right line, this is called redoublyng by flanke: the first waie is more easie, this is with better order, and commeth better to passe, and you maie better correcte it, after your owne maner, for that in redoublyng by righte line, you muste bee ruled by the nomber, bicause five maketh ten, ten twentie, twentie fourtie, so that with redoublyng by right line, you cannot make a hedde of fiftene, nor of five and twentie, nor of thirtie, nor of five and thirtie, but you must go where thesame nomber will leade you. and yet it happeneth every daie in particulare affaires, that it is convenient to make the forwarde with sixe hundred, or eight hundred men, so that to redouble by right line, should disorder you: therefore this liketh me better: that difficultie that is, ought moste with practise, and with exercise to bee made easie. therefore i saie unto you, how it importeth more then any thyng, to have the souldiours to know how to set themselves in araie quickly, and it is necessarie to keepe theim in this battaile, to exercise theim therin, and to make them to go apace, either forward or backward, to passe through difficulte places, without troublyng thorder: for asmoche as the souldiours, whiche can doe this well, be expert souldiours, and although thei have never seen enemies in the face, thei maie be called old souldiours, and contrariwise, those whiche cannot keepe these orders, though thei have been in a thousande warres, thei ought alwaies to be reputed new souldiours. this is, concernyng setting them together, when thei are marching in small rankes: but beyng set, and after beyng broken by some accident or chaunce, whiche groweth either of the situacion, or of the enemie, to make that in a sodaine, thei maie come into order againe, this is the importaunce and the difficultie, and where is nedefull moche exercise, and moche practise, and wherin the antiquitie bestowed moche studie. therefore it is necessarie to doe twoo thynges, firste to have this battaile full of countersignes, the other, to keepe alwaies this order, that those same men maie stand alwaies in the ranke, which thei were firste placed in: as for insample, if one have begon to stande in the seconde, that he stande after alwaie in that, and not onely in that self same rancke, but in that self same place: for the observyng whereof (as i have saied) bee necessarie many countersignes. in especially it is requisite, that the ansigne bee after soche sorte countersigned, that companyng with the other battailes, it maie be knowen from theim, accordyng as the conestable, and the centurions have plumes of fethers in their heddes differente, and easie to be knowen, and that whiche importeth moste, is to ordaine that the peticapitaines bee knowen. whereunto the antiquitie had so moche care, that thei would have nothing els written in their hedde peces, but the nomber that thei were named by, callyng them firste, seconde, thirde, and fourthe xc. and yet thei were not contented with this, but made every souldiour to have written in his targaet, the nomber of the ranke, and the nomber of the place, in whiche ranke he was appoineted. then the menne being countersigned thus, and used to stande betwene these limites, it is an easie thyng, thei beyng disordered, to sett theim all againe quickly into order: considering, that the ansigne standyng still, the centurions, and the peticapitaines maie gesse their places by the iye, and beyng brought the left of the left, the right of the right, with their accustomed distance, the souldiours led by their rule, and by the differences of the cognisances, maie be quickly in their proper places, no otherwise, then as if the boordes of a tunne should bee taken a sunder, whiche beyng first marked, moste easely maie bee set together again, where thesame beyng not countersigned, were impossible to bryng into order any more. these thynges, with diligence and with exercise, are quickely taught, and quickly learned, and beyng learned, with difficultie are forgotten: for that the newe menne, be led of the olde, and with tyme, a province with these exercises, may become throughly practised in the war. it is also necessarie to teache theim, to tourne theim selves all at ones, and when neede requires, to make of the flankes, and of the backe, the fronte, and of the front, flankes, or backe, whiche is moste easie: bicause it suffiseth that every manne doe tourne his bodie, towardes thesame parte that he is commaunded, and where thei tourne their faces, there the fronte commeth to bee. true it is, that when thei tourne to any of the flanckes, the orders tourne out of their proporcion: for that from the breast to the backe, there is little difference, and from the one flancke to the other, there is verie moche distance, the whiche is al contrarie to the ordinarie order of the battaile: therefore it is convenient, that practise, and discrecion, doe place them as thei ought to be: but this is small disorder, for that moste easely by themselves, thei maie remedie it. but that whiche importeth more, and where is requisite more practise, is when a battaile would tourne all at ones, as though it were a whole bodie, here is meete to have greate practise, and greate discrecion: bicause mindyng to tourne, as for insample on the left hande, the left corner must stande still, and those that be next to hym that standeth still, muste marche so softly, that thei that bee in the right corner, nede not to runne: otherwise all thing should be confounded. but bicause it happeneth alwaies, when an armie marcheth from place to place, that the battailes, whiche are not placed in the front, shall be driven to faight not by hedde, but either by flancke, or by backe, so that a battaile muste in a sodaine make of flancke, or of backe, hedde: and mindyng that like battailes in soche cace, maie have their proporcion, as above is declared, it is necessarie, that thei have the pikes on thesame flancke, that ought to be hedde, and the peticapitaines, centurions, and conestables, to resorte accordyngly to their places. therefore to mynde to dooe this, in plasyng them together, you must ordeine the fower skore rankes, of five in a ranke, thus: set all the pikes in the first twentie rankes, and place the peticapitaines thereof, five in the first places, and five in the last: the other three score rankes, whiche come after, bee all of targaettes, whiche come to bee three centuries. therefore, the first and the laste ranke of every centurion, would be peticapitaines, the conestable with the ansigne, and with the drumme, muste stande in the middest of the first centurie of targaettes, and the centurions in the hed of every centurie. the bande thus ordained, when you would have the pikes to come on the left flancke, you must redouble centurie by centurie, on the right flancke: if you would have them to come on the right flancke, you must redouble theim on the lefte. and so this battaile tourneth with the pikes upon a flancke, and the conestable in the middeste: the whiche facion it hath marchyng: but the enemie commyng, and the tyme that it would make of flancke hedde, it nedeth not but to make every man to tourne his face, towardes thesame flancke, where the pikes be, and then the battaile tourneth with the rankes, and with the heddes in thesame maner, as is aforesaied: for that every man is in his place, excepte the centurions, and the centurions straight waie, and without difficultie, place themselves: but when thei in marchyng, should bee driven to faight on the backe, it is convenient to ordein the rankes after soch sorte, that settyng theim in battaile, the pikes maie come behinde, and to doe this, there is to bee kepte no other order, then where in orderyng the battaile, by the ordinarie, every centurie hath five rankes of pikes before, to cause that thei maie have them behind, and in all the other partes to observe thorder, whiche i declared firste. cosimo. you have tolde (if i dooe well remember me) that this maner of exercise, is to bee able to bryng these battailes together into an armie, and that this practise, serveth to be able to order theim selves in the same: but if it should happen, that these ccccl. men, should have to doe an acte seperate, how would you order them? [sidenote: how a battaile is made with twoo hornes; the orderyng of a battaile with a voide space in the middeste.] fabricio. he that leadeth them, ought then to judge, where he will place the pikes, and there to put them, the whiche doeth not repugne in any part to the order above written: for that also, though thesame bee the maner, that is observed to faighte a fielde, together with thother battailes, notwithstandyng it is a rule, whiche serveth to all those waies, wherein a band of menne should happen to have to doe: but in shewyng you the other twoo waies of me propounded, of ordering the battailes, i shal also satisfie you more to your question: for that either thei are never used, or thei are used when a battaile is a lone, and not in companie of other, and to come to the waie of ordering them, with twoo hornes, i saie, that thou oughteste to order the lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, in this maner. place in the middest, one centurion, and after hym xxv. rankes, whiche muste bee with twoo pikes on the lefte hande, and with three targaettes on the right, and after the first five, there must be put in the twentie folowyng, twentie peticapitaines, all betwene the pikes, and the targaettes, excepte those whiche beare the pike, whom maie stand with the pikes: after these xxv. rankes thus ordered, there is to be placed an other centurion, and behinde hym fiftene rankes of targaettes: after these, the conestable betwene the drum and the ansigne, who also must have after him, other fiftene rankes of targaettes: after this, the thirde centurion must be placed, and behinde hym, xxv. rankes, in every one of whiche, ought to bee three targaettes on the lefte flancke, and twoo pikes on the right, and after the five first rankes, there must be xx. peticapitaines placed betwene the pikes, and the targaettes: after these rankes, the fowerth centurion must folowe. intendying therefore, of these rankes thus ordered, to make a battaile with twoo hornes, the first centurion must stand still, with the xxv. rankes, whiche be behinde him, after the second centurion muste move, with the fiftene rankes of targaettes, that bee behinde hym, and to tourne on the right hande, and up by the right flancke of the xxv. rankes, to go so farre, that he arrive to the xv. ranke, and there to stande still: after, the conestable muste move, with the fiftene rankes of targaettes, whiche be behinde hym, and tournyng likewise on the right hande, up by the right flancke of the fiftene rankes, that wer firste moved, muste marche so farre, that he come to their heddes, and there to stand stil: after, the thirde centurion muste move with the xxv. rankes, and with the fowerth centurion, whiche was behinde, and turnyng up straight, must go a long by the right flanck of the fiftene last rankes of the targaettes, and not to stande still when he is at the heddes of them, but to followe marchyng so farre, that the laste ranke of the xxv. maie come to be even with the rankes behinde. and this dooen, the centurion, whiche was hedde of the firste fiftene rankes of targaettes, must go awaie from thens where he stoode, and go to the backe in the lefte corner: and thus a battaile shall be made of xxv. rankes, after twentie men to a rank, with two hornes, upon every side of the front, one horn, and every one, shall have ten rankes, five to a ranke, and there shall remain a space betwene the twoo hornes, as moche as containeth ten men, whiche tourne their sides, the one to thother. betwene the two hornes, the capitain shall stande, and on every poinct of a horne, a centurion: there shall bee also behinde, on every corner, a centurion: there shal be twoo rankes of pikes, and xx. peticapitaines on every flancke. these twoo hornes, serve to kepe betwene theim the artillerie, when this battaile should have any withit, and the cariages: the veliti muste stande a long the flankes, under the pikes. but mindyng to bring this horned battaile, with a voide space in the middeste, there ought no other to bee doen, then of fiftene rankes, of twentie to a ranke, to take eight rankes, and to place them on the poinctes of the twoo hornes, whiche then of hornes, become backe of the voide space, in this place, the cariages are kept, the capitain standeth, and the ansigne, but never the artillerie, the whiche is placed either in the front, or a long the flankes. these be the waies, that a battaile maie use when it is constrained to passe alone through suspected places: notwithstandyng, the massive battaile without hornes, and without any soche voide place is better, yet purposyng to assure the disarmed, the same horned battaile is necessarie. the suizzers make also many facions of battailes, emong which, thei make one like unto a crosse: bicause in the spaces that is betwen the armes therof, thei kepe safe their harkebuters from the daunger of the enemies: but bicause soche battailes be good to faight by theim selves, and my intente is to shew, how many battailes united, do faight with thenemie, i wil not labour further in describing them. cosimo. my thinkes i have verie well comprehended the waie, that ought to be kept to exercise the men in these battailes: but (if i remember me well) you have saied, how that besides the tenne battailes, you joyne to the maine battaile, a thousande extraordinarie pikes, and five hundred extraordinarie veliti: will you not appoincte these to be exercised? [sidenote: to what purpose the pikes and velite extraordinarie must serve.] fabricio. i would have theim to bee exercised, and that with moste great diligence: and the pikes i would exercise, at leaste ansigne after ansigne, in the orders of the battailes, as the other: for as moche as these should doe me more servise, then the ordinarie battailes, in all particulare affaires: as to make guides, to get booties, and to doe like thynges: but the veliti, i would exercise at home, without bringing them together, for that their office being to faight a sonder, it is not mete, that thei should companie with other, in the common exercises: for that it shall suffice, to exercise them well in the particular exercises. thei ought then (as i firste tolde you, nor now me thynkes no labour to rehearse it againe) to cause their men to exercise them selves in these battailes, whereby thei maie knowe how to kepe the raie, to knowe their places, to tourne quickly, when either enemie, or situacion troubleth them: for that, when thei knowe how to do this, the place is after easely learned, which a battaile hath to kepe, and what is the office thereof in the armie: and when a prince, or a common weale, will take the paine, and will use their diligence in these orders, and in these exercisyng, it shall alwaies happen, that in their countrie, there shall bee good souldiours, and thei to be superiours to their neighbours, and shalbe those, whiche shall give, and not receive the lawes of other men: but (as i have saied) the disorder wherein thei live, maketh that thei neclecte, and doe not esteme these thynges, and therefore our armies be not good: and yet though there were either hed, or member naturally vertuous, thei cannot shewe it. cosimo. what carriages would you, that every one of these battailes should have? [sidenote: neither centurion nor peticapitaine, ought not to ride; what carriages the capitaines ought to have, and the nomber of carrages requisite to every bande of menne.] fabricio. firste, i would that neither centurion, nor peticapitain, should be suffered to ride: and if the conestable would nedes ride, i would that he should have a mule, and not a horse: i would allowe hym twoo carriages, and one to every centurion, and twoo to every three peticapitaines, for that so many wee lodge in a lodgyng, as in the place therof we shall tell you: so that every battaile will come to have xxxvi. carriages, the whiche i would should carrie of necessitie the tentes, the vesselles to seeth meate, axes, barres of iron, sufficient to make the lodgynges, and then if thei can carry any other thyng, thei maie dooe it at their pleasure. cosimo. i beleve that the heddes of you, ordeined in every one of these battailes, be necessarie: albeit, i would doubt, lest that so many commaunders, should confounde all. [sidenote: without many capitaines, an armie cannot be governed; to what purpose ansignes ought to serve; for what purpose drummes oughte to bee used; the propertie that soundes of instrumentes have in mens myndes.] fabricio. that should bee, when it were not referred to one man, but referryng it, thei cause order, ye and without theim, it is impossible to governe an armie: for that a wall, whiche on every parte enclineth, requireth rather to have many proppes, and thicke, although not so strong, then fewe, though thei were strong: bicause the vertue of one a lone, doeth not remedie the ruine a farre of. and therefore in tharmies, and emong every ten men, it is convenient that there bee one, of more life, of more harte, or at leaste wise of more aucthoritie, who with stomacke, with wordes, and with example, maie kepe them constante, and disposed to faight, and these thynges of me declared, bee necessarie in an armie, as the heddes, the ansignes, and the drummes, is seen that wee have theim all in our armies, but none doeth his office. first to mynde that the peticapitaines doe thesame, for whiche thei are ordeined, it is necessarie (as i have said) that there bee a difference, betwene every one of them and their men, and that thei lodge together, doyng their duties, standyng in thorder with them: for that thei placed in their places, bee a rule and a temperaunce, to maintaine the raies straight and steddie, and it is impossible that thei disorder, or disorderyng, dooe not reduce themselves quickly into their places. but we now adaies, doe not use them to other purpose, then to give theim more wages, then to other menne, and to cause that thei dooe some particulare feate: the very same happeneth of the ansigne bearers, for that thei are kept rather to make a faire muster, then for any other warlike use: but the antiquitie used theim for guides, and to bryng theim selves againe into order: for that every man, so sone as the ansigne stoode still, knewe the place, that he kept nere to his ansigne, wherunto he retourned alwaies: thei knewe also, how that the same movyng, or standyng, thei should staie, or move: therfore it is necessarie in an armie, that there be many bodies, and every bande of menne to have his ansigne, and his guide: wherfore havyng this, it is mete that thei have stomackes inough, and by consequence life enough. then the menne ought to marche, accordyng to the ansigne: and the ansigne to move, accordyng to the drumme, the whiche drumme well ordered, commaundeth to the armie, the whiche goyng with paces, that answereth the tyme of thesame, will come to kepe easilie thorders: for whiche cause the antiquitie had shalmes, flutes, and soundes perfectly tymed: for as moche as like as he that daunseth, proceadeth with the tyme of the musick, and goyng with thesame doeth not erre, even so an armie obeiyng, in movyng it self to thesame sounde, doeth not disorder: and therefore, thei varied the sounde, accordyng as thei would varie the mocion, and accordyng as thei would inflame, or quiete, or staie the mindes of men: and like as the soundes were divers, so diversly thei named them: the sounde dorico, ingendered constancie, the sounde frigio, furie: whereby thei saie, that alexander beyng at the table, and one soundyng the sounde frigio, it kendled so moche his minde, that he laied hande on his weapons. all these maners should be necessarie to finde again: and when this should bee difficulte, at least there would not be left behind those that teache the souldiour to obeie, the whiche every man maie varie, and ordeine after his owne facion, so that with practise, he accustome the eares of his souldiours to knowe it: but now adaies of this sounde, there is no other fruicte taken for the moste part, then to make a rumour. cosimo. i would desire to understande of you, if ever with your self you have discourced, whereof groweth so moche vilenesse, and so moche disorder, and so moche necligence in these daies of this exercise? [sidenote: a notable discourse of the aucthour, declaryng whereof groweth so moche vilenes disorder and necligence in these daies, concernyng the exercises of warre.] fabricio. with a good will i will tell you thesame, that i thinke. you knowe how that of the excellente men of warre, there hath been named many in europe, fewe in affric, and lesse in asia: this grewe, for that these twoo laste partes of the worlde, have had not paste one kyngdome, or twoo, and fewe common weales, but europe onely, hath had many kyngdomes, and infinite common weales, where menne became excellent, and did shewe their vertue, accordyng as thei were sette a woorke, and brought before their prince, or common weale, or king that he be: it followeth therefore, that where be many dominions, there rise many valiaunt menne, and where be fewe, fewe. in asia is founde ninus, cirus, artasercses, mithridates: and verie fewe other, that to these maie be compared. in africk, is named (lettyng stande thesame auncient egipt) massinissa, jugurta, and those capitaines, whiche of the carthaginens common weale were nourished, whom also in respecte to those of europe, are moste fewe: bicause in europe, be excellente men without nomber, and so many more should be, if together with those should bee named the other, that be through the malignitie of time extincte: for that the worlde hath been moste vertuous, where hath been moste states, whiche have favoured vertue of necessitie, or for other humaine passion. there rose therfore in asia, fewe excellente menne: bicause thesame province, was all under one kyngdome, in the whiche for the greatnesse thereof, thesame standing for the moste parte of tyme idell, there could not growe men in doynges excellent. to africke there happened the verie same, yet there were nourished more then in asia, by reason of the carthaginens common weale: for that in common weales, there growe more excellent men, then in kingdomes, bicause in common weales for the most part, vertue is honoured, in kyngdomes it is helde backe: wherby groweth, that in thone, vertuous men are nourished, in the other thei are extincte. therefore he that shall consider the partes of europe, shall finde it to have been full of common weales, and of princedomes, the whiche for feare, that the one had of the other, thei wer constrained to kepe lively the warlike orders, and to honor them, whiche in those moste prevailed: for that in grece, besides the kyngdome of the macedonians, there were many common weales, and in every one of theim, were bred moste excellente men. in italie, were the romaines, the sannites, the toscanes, the gallie cisalpini. fraunce, and almainie, wer ful of common weales and princedomes. spaine likewise: and although in comparison of the romaines, there are named fewe other, it groweth through the malignitie of the writers, whom folowe fortune, and to theim for the moste parte it suffised, to honour the conquerours: but it standeth not with reason, that betwene the sannites, and the toscanes, whom fought cl. yeres with the romaine people, before thei wer overcome, there should not growe exceadyng many excellente menne. and so likewise in fraunce, and in spaine: but that vertue, whiche the writers did not celebrate in particuler menne, thei celebrated generally in the people, where thei exalte to the starres, the obstinatenesse that was in them, to defende their libertie. beyng then true, that where bee moste dominions, there riseth moste valiaunt menne, it foloweth of necessitie, that extinguishyng those, vertue is extincte straighte waie, the occasion decaiyng, whiche maketh menne vertuous. therefore, the romaine empire beyng after increased, and havyng extinguished all the common weales, and princedomes of europe, and of afrike, and for the moste part those of asia, it lefte not any waie to vertue, excepte rome: whereby grewe, that vertuous menne began to be as fewe in europe, as in asia: the whiche vertue, came after to the laste caste: for as moche, as all the vertue beyng reduced to roome, so sone as thesame was corrupted, almoste all the worlde came to bee corrupted: and the scithian people, were able to come to spoile thesame empire, the whiche had extinguished the vertue of other, and knewe not howe to maintaine their owne: and after, although through the inundacion of those barberous nacions, thesame empire was devided into many partes, this vertue is not renued: [sidenote: the causes why the aunciente orders are neclected.] the one cause is, for that it greveth theim moche, to take againe the orders when thei are marde, the other, bicause the maner of livyng now adaies, having respect to the christian religion, commaundeth not thesame necessitie to menne, to defende themselves, whiche in olde tyme was: for that then, the menne overcome in warre, either were killed, or remained perpetuall slaves, where thei led their lives moste miserably: the tounes overcome, either were rased, or the inhabiters thereof driven out, their goodes taken awaie, sent dispersed through the worlde: so that the vanquished in warre, suffered all extreme miserie: of this feare, men beyng made afraied, thei wer driven to kepe lively the warlike exercises, and thei honoured soche as were excellente in theim: but nowe adaies, this feare for the moste part is not regarded: of those that are overcom, fewe bee killed, none is kepte longe in prison: for that with facelitie, thei are sette at libertie: the citees also, whiche a thousande tymes have rebelled, are not destroied, the men wherof, are let a lone with their goodes, so that the greateste hurte that is feared, is but a taske: in so moche, that men will not submit them selves to the orders of warre, and to abide alwaies under those, to avoide the perilles whereof thei are little afraied: again these provinces of europe, be under a verie fewe heddes, in respecte as it hath been in times past: for that al fraunce, obeieth one kyng, al spain, an other: italie is in fewe partes, so that the weake citees, are defended with leanyng to hym that overcometh, and the strong states, for the causes aforesaied, feare no soche extreme ruine. cosimo. yet ther hath ben seen many tounes that have ben sacked within this xxv. yeres, and lost their dominions, whose insample, ought to teache other how to live, and to take again some of those old orders. fabricio. you saie true: but if you note what tounes have gone to sacke, you shall not finde that thei have been the heddes of states, but of the members; as was seen sacked tortona, and not milaine: capua, and not napelles, brescia, and not venice, ravenna, and not roome: the whiche insamples maketh those that governe, not to chaunge their purposes, but rather maketh them to stande more in their opinion, to be able to redeme again all thynges with taskes, and for this, thei will not submit theim selves to the troubles of thexercises of warre, semyng unto them partly not necessarie, partly, an intrinsicate matter, whiche thei understande not: those other, whiche bee subjectes to them, whom soche insamples ought to make afraied, have no power to remedie it: and those princes, that have ones loste their estates, are no more able, and those which as yet kept them, know not, nor wil not. bicause thei will without any disease rain by fortune, and not by their vertue: for that in the worlde beyng but little vertue, thei see fortune governeth all thynges. and thei will have it to rule theim, not thei to rule it. and to prove this that i have discoursed to bee true, consider almaine, in the whiche, bicause there is many princedomes, and common weales, there is moche vertue, and all thesame, whiche in the present service of warre is good, dependeth of the insamples of those people: who beyng all gellious of their states, fearing servitude, the which in other places is not feared, thei all maintaine theim selves lordes, and honourable: this that i have saied, shall suffice to shewe the occacions of the presente utilitie, accordyng to my opinion: i cannot tell, whether it seeme thesame unto you, or whether there be growen in you any doubtyng. cosimo. none, but rather i understande all verie well: onely i desire, tournyng to our principall matter, to understande of you, how you would ordein the horses with these battailes, and how many, and how thei should be governed, and how armed. [sidenote: the armyng of horsemen; the weapons that light horsmenne should have; the nombre of horsmen requisite for a maine bataille of six thousand men; the nombre of carrages that men of armes and light horsmen ought to have.] fabricio. you thinke peraventure, that i have left it behinde: whereat doe not marvell, for that i purpose for twoo causes, to speake therof little, the one is, for that the strengthe, and the importaunce of an armie, is the footemen, the other is, bicause this part of service of warre, is lesse corrupted, then thesame of footemen. for that though it be not stronger then the old, yet it maie compare with thesame, nevertheles ther hath been spoken a little afore, of the maner of exercisyng them. and concernyng tharmyng them, i would arme them as thei doe at this present, as wel the light horsemen, as the menne of armes: but the light horsemen, i would that thei should be all crossebowe shuters, with some harkebutters emong them: the whiche though in the other affaires of warre, thei bee little profitable, thei be for this most profitable, to make afraied the countrie menne, and to drive them from a passage, that were kept of them: bicause a harkebutter, shall feare them more, then twentie other armed. but commyng to the nomber, i saie, that having taken in hand, to imitate the service of warre of the romaines, i would not ordein more then three hundred horse, profitable for every maine battaile, of whiche i would that there were cl. men of armes, and cl. light horsmen, and i would give to every one of these partes, a hedde, making after emong them fiftene peticapitaines for a bande, givyng to every one of them a trompet, and a standarde: i would that every ten menne of armes, should have five carriages, and every ten light horsemen twoo, the whiche as those of the footemen, should carrie the tentes, the vesselles, and the axes, and the stakes, and the rest of their other harneis. nor beleve not but that it is disorder, where the menne of armes have to their service fower horse, bicause soche a thyng is a corrupt use: for that the men of armes in almaine, are seen to bee with their horse alone, every twentie of theim, havyng onely a carte, that carrieth after them their necessary thynges. the romaine horsemen, were likewise a lone: true it is, that the triary lodged nere them, whiche wer bound to minister helpe unto theim, in the kepyng of their horses the whiche maie easely be imitated of us, as in the distributyng of the lodgynges, i shall shewe you. thesame then that the romaines did, and that whiche the duchmen doe now a daies, we maie doe also, ye, not doyng it, we erre. these horses ordained and appoincted together with a main battaile, maie sometymes be put together, when the battailes bee assembled, and to cause that betwene theim bee made some sight of assault, the whiche should be more to make them acquainted together, then for any other necessitie. but now of this part, there hath been spoke sufficiently, wherefore let us facion the armie, to be able to come into the field against the enemie, and hope to winne it: whiche thyng is the ende, for whiche the exercise of warre is ordeined, and so moche studie therein bestowed. the thirde booke cosimo. seeing that we chaunge reasonyng, i will that the demaunder be chaunged: bicause i would not be thought presumptuous, the which i have alwaies blamed in other: therfore, i resigne the dictatorship, and give this aucthoritie to hym that will have it, of these my other frendes. zanobi. we would be moste glad, that you should procede, but seyng that you will not, yet tell at leaste, whiche of us shall succede in your place. cosimo. i will give this charge to signor fabricio. fabricio. i am content to take it, and i will that we folowe the venecian custome, that is, that the youngeste speake firste: bicause this beyng an exercise for yong men, i perswade my self, that yong menne, bee moste apt to reason thereof, as thei be moste readie to execute it. cosimo. then it falleth to you luigi: and as i have pleasure of soche a successour, so you shal satisfie your self of soche a demaunder: therefore i praie you, let us tourne to the matter, and let us lese no more tyme. [sidenote: the greateste disorder that is used now a daies in pitching of a fielde; the order how a romain legion was appoincted to faight; the maner that the grekes used in their falangi, when thei fought against their enemies; the order that the suizzers use in their main battailes when thei faight; howe to appoincte a main battaile with armour and weapons, and to order thesame after the greke and romain maner.] fabricio. i am certain, that to mynde to shewe wel, how an armie is prepared, to faight a fielde, it should be necessarie to declare, how the grekes, and the romaines ordeined the bandes of their armies: notwithstandyng, you your selves, beeyng able to rede, and to consider these tnynges, by meanes of the auncient writers. i will passe over many particulars: and i will onely bryng in those thynges, whiche i thinke necessarie to imitate, mindyng at this tyme, to give to our exercise of warre, some parte of perfection: the whiche shall make, that in one instant, i shall shewe you, how an armie is prepared to the field, and how it doeth incounter in the verie faight, and how it maie be exercised in the fained. the greatest disorder, that thei make, whiche ordeine an armie to the fielde, is in giving them onely one fronte, and to binde them to one brunt, and to one fortune: the whiche groweth, of havyng loste the waie, that the antiquitie used to receive one bande within an other: bicause without this waie, thei can neither succour the formoste, nor defende them, nor succede in the faight in their steede: the whiche of the romaines, was moste excellently well observed. therefore, purposyng to shewe this waie, i saie, how that the romaines devided into iii. partes every legion, in hastati, prencipi, and triarii, of which, the hastati wer placed in the first front, or forward of the armie, with thorders thicke and sure, behinde whom wer the prencipi, but placed with their orders more thinne: after these, thei set the triarii, and with so moche thinnes of orders, that thei might, if nede wer, receive betwene them the prencipi, and the hastati. thei had besides these, the slingers, and crosbowshoters, and the other lighte armed, the whiche stoode not in these orders, but thei placed them in the bed of tharmie, betwene the horses and the other bandes of footemen: therefore these light armed, began the faight, if thei overcame (whiche happened seldom times) thei folowed the victorie: if thei were repulced, thei retired by the flanckes of the armie, or by the spaces ordained for soche purposes, and thei brought them selves emong the unarmed: after the departure of whom, the hastati incountered with the enemie, the whiche if thei saw themselves to be overcome, thei retired by a little and little, by the rarenesse of thorders betwene the prencipi, and together with those, thei renued the faight if these also wer repulced, thei retired al in the rarenesse of the orders of the triarii, and al together on a heape, began againe the faight: and then, if thei were overcome, there was no more remeady, bicause there remained no more waies to renue them again. the horses stoode on the corners of the armie, to the likenes of twoo winges to a bodie, and somewhiles thei fought with the enemies horses, an other while, thei rescued the fotmen, according as nede required. this waie of renuyng theim selves three tymes, is almoste impossible to overcome: for that, fortune muste three tymes forsake thee, and the enemie to have so moche strengthe, that three tymes he maie overcome thee. the grekes, had not in their falangi, this maner of renuyng them selves, and although in those wer many heddes, and many orders, notwithstandyng, thei made one bodie, or els one hedde: the maner that thei kepte in rescuyng the one the other was, not to retire the one order within the other, as the romaines, but to enter the one manne into the place of the other: the which thei did in this maner. their falange brought into rankes, and admit, that thei put in a ranke fiftie menne, commyng after with their hedde againste the enemie, of all the rankes the foremoste sixe, mighte faight: bicause their launces, the whiche thei called sarisse, were so long, that the sixt ranke, passed with the hedde of their launces, out of the first ranke: then in faightyng, if any of the first, either through death, or through woundes fell, straight waie there entered into his place, thesame man, that was behinde in the second ranke, and in the place that remained voide of the seconde, thesame man entred, whiche was behind hym in the thirde, and thus successively, in a sodaine the rankes behinde, restored the faultes of those afore, so that the rankes alwaies remained whole, and no place of the faighters was voide, except the laste rankes, the whiche came to consume, havyng not menne behinde their backes, whom might restore theim: so that the hurte that the first rankes suffered, consumed the laste, and the firste remained alwaies whole: and thus these falangi by their order, might soner be consumed, then broken, for that the grosse bodie, made it more immovable. the romaines used at the beginnyng the falangi, and did set in order their legions like unto them: after, this order pleased them not, and thei devided the legions into many bodies, that is, in bandes and companies: bicause thei judged (as a little afore i saied) that thesame bodie, should have neede of many capitaines, and that it should be made of sunderie partes, so that every one by it self, might be governed. the maine battailes of the suizzers, use at this present, all the maners of the falangi, as well in ordryng it grosse, and whole, as in rescuyng the one the other: and in pitchyng the field, thei set the main battailes, thone to the sides of the other: and though thei set them the one behinde the other, thei have no waie, that the firste retiryng it self, maie bee received of the seconde, but thei use this order, to the entent to bee able to succour the one thother, where thei put a maine battaile before, and an other behinde thesame on the right hande: so that if the first have nede of helpe, that then the other maie make forewarde, and succour it: the third main battaile, thei put behind these, but distant from them, a harkebus shot: this thei doe, for that thesaid two main battailes being repulced, this maie make forwarde, and have space for theim selves, and for the repulced, and thesame that marcheth forward, to avoide the justling of the one the other: for asmoche as a grosse multitude, cannot bee received as a little bodie: and therefore, the little bodies beyng destincte, whiche were in a romaine legion, might be placed in soche wise, that thei might receive betwene theim, and rescue the one the other. and to prove this order of the suizzers not to be so good, as the auncient romaines, many insamples of the romain legions doe declare, when thei fought with the grekes falangi, where alwaies thei were consumed of theim: for that the kinde of their weapons (as i have said afore) and this waie of renuyng themselves, could do more, then the massivenesse of the falangi. havyng therefore, with these insamples to ordaine an armie, i have thought good, partly to retaine the maner of armyng and the orders of the grekes falangi, and partely of the romain legions: and therfore i have saied, that i would have in a main battaile, twoo thousande pikes, whiche be the weapons of the macedonicall falangi, and three thousande targaettes with sweardes, whiche be the romain weapons: i have devided the main battaile, into x. battailes, as the romaines their legion into ten cohortes: i have ordeined the veliti, that is the light armed, to begin the faight, as the romaines used: and like as the weapons beyng mingled, doe participate of thone and of the other nacion, so the orders also doe participate: i have ordained, that every battaile shall have v. rankes of pikes in the fronte, and the rest of targaettes, to bee able with the front, to withstande the horses, and to enter easely into the battaile of the enemies on foot, having in the firste fronte, or vawarde, pikes, as well as the enemie, the whiche shall suffice me to withstande them, the targaettes after to overcome theim. and if you note the vertue of this order, you shal se al these weapons, to doe fully their office, for that the pikes, bee profitable against the horses, and when thei come against the footemenne, thei dooe their office well, before the faight throng together, bicause so sone as thei presse together, thei become unprofitable: wherefore, the suizzers to avoide this inconvenience, put after everye three rankes of pikes, a ranke of halberdes, the whiche they do to make roome to the pikes, which is not yet so much as suffiseth. then putting our pikes afore, and the targaettes behinde, they come to withstande the horses, and in the beginning of the fight, they open the rayes, and molest the footemen: but when the fight is thrust together, and that they become unprofitable, the targaettes and swoords succeede, which may in every narowe place be handled. luigi. wee looke nowe with desire to understande, howe you would ordeyne the armie to fighte the fielde, with these weapons, and with these order. [sidenote: the nomber of men that was in a counsulles armie; how the romaines placed their legions in the field; how to order an armie in the fielde to fighte a battaile, according to the minde of the authour; how the extraordinary pikes bee placed in the set battaile; the place where thextraordinarie archars and harkebutters, and the men of armes and lighte horsmen ought to stande when the field is pitched, and goeth to faighte the battaile; the ordinarie archars and harkebutters are placed aboute their owne battailes; the place where the generall hedde of a maine battaile muste stande, when thesame power of men is appoincted to faight; what menne a general capitain of a maine battaile oughte to have aboute hym; the place wher a general capitain of all thearmie must stand when the battaile is ready to be fought and what nomber of chosen men oughte to be aboute hym; how many canons is requisite for an armie, and of what sise they ought to bee; where the artillerie ought to be placed when thearmie is reedie to fight; an armie that were ordered as above is declared, maie in fighting, use the grekes maner, and the roman fashion; to what purpose the spaces that be betwene every bande of men do serve.] fabricio. and i will not nowe shewe you other, then this: you have to understande, how that in an ordinarye romane armie, which they call a consull armie, there were no more, then twoo legions of romane citezens which were sixe hundred horse, and about aleven thousande footemen: they had besides as many more footemen and horsemen, whiche were sente them from their friends and confiderates, whome they divided into twoo partes, and called the one, the right horne and the other the left horne: nor they never permitted, that these aiding footemen, should passe the nomber of the footemen of their legions, they were well contented, that the nomber of those horse shoulde be more then theirs: with this armie, which was of xxii. thousand footemen, and about twoo thousande good horse, a consul executed all affaires, and went to all enterprises: yet when it was needefull to set against a greater force, twoo consulles joyned together with twoo armies. you ought also to note in especially, that in all the three principall actes, which an armie doth that is, to march, to incampe, and to fight, the romanes used to put their legions in the middeste, for that they woulde, that the same power, wherein they most trusted, shoulde bee moste united, as in the reasoning of these three actes, shall be shewed you: those aiding footemen, through the practise they had with the legion souldiours, were as profitable as they, because they were instructed, according as the souldiours of the legions were, and therefore, in like maner in pitching the field, they pitched. then he that knoweth how the romaines disposed a legion in their armie, to fight a field, knoweth how they disposed all: therefor, having tolde you how they devided a legion into three bandes, and how the one bande received the other, i have then told you, how al tharmie in a fielde, was ordained. wherefore, i minding to ordain a field like unto the romaines, as they had twoo legions, i will take ii. main batailes, and these being disposed, the disposicion of all an armie shalbe understode therby: bycause in joyning more men, there is no other to be doen, then to ingrosse the orders: i thinke i neede not to rehearse how many men a maine battaile hath, and howe it hath ten battailes, and what heades bee in a battaile and what weapons they have, and which be the ordinarie pikes and veliti, and which the extraordinarie for that a litle a fore i told you it destinctly, and i willed you to kepe it in memorie as a necessarie thing to purpose, to understande all the other orders: and therfore i will come to the demonstracion of the order without repeating it any more: me thinkes good, that the ten battailes of one main battaile be set on the left flanke, and the tenne other, of the other main battaile, on the right: these that are placed on the left flanke, be ordeined in this maner, there is put five battailes the one to the side of the other in the fronte, after suche sorte, that betweene the one and the other, there remaine a space of three yardes, whiche come to occupie for largenesse cvi. yardes, of ground, and for length thirtie: behinde these five battailes, i would put three other distante by right line from the firste thirtie yardes: twoo of the whiche, should come behinde by right line, to the uttermoste of the five, and the other should kepe the space in the middeste, and so these three, shall come to occupie for bredth and length, as moche space, as the five doeth. but where the five have betwene the one, and the other, a distaunce of three yardes, these shall have a distance of xxv. yardes. after these, i would place the twoo last battailes, in like maner behinde the three by right line, and distaunte from those three, thirtie yardes, and i would place eche of theim, behinde the uttermoste part of the three, so that the space, whiche should remain betwen the one and the other, should be lxviii. yardes: then al these battailes thus ordered, will take in bredth cvi. yardes, and in length cl. thextraordinarie pikes, i would deffende a long the flanckes of these battailes, on the left side, distante from them fiftene yardes, makyng cxliij. rankes, seven to a ranke, after soche sorte, that thei maie impale with their length, all the left sixe of the tenne battailes in thesame wise, declared of me to be ordained: and there shall remain fourtie rankes to keepe the carriages, and the unarmed, whiche ought to remaine in the taile of the armie, distributyng the peticapitaines, and the centurions, in their places: and of the three conestables, i would place one in the hedde, the other in the middeste, the third in the laste ranke, the whiche should execute the office of a tergiductore, whom the antiquitie so called hym, that was appoincted to the backe of the armie. but retournyng to the hedde of the armie, i saie how that i would place nere to the extraordinarie pikes, the veliti extraordinarie, whiche you knowe to be five hundred, and i would give them a space of xxx. yardes: on the side of these likewise on the left hande, i would place the menne of armes, and i would thei should have a space of a cxii. yardes: after these, the light horsemen, to whom i would appoinct as moche ground to stande in, as the menne of armes have: the ordinarie veliti, i would leave about their owne battailes, who should stand in those spaces, whiche i appoincte betwene thone battaile and thother: whom should be as their ministers, if sometyme i thought not good to place them under the extraordinarie pikes: in dooyng or not doyng whereof, i would proceade, accordyng as should tourne best to my purpose. the generall hedde of all the maine battaile, i would place in thesame space, that were betwene the first and the seconde order of the battailes, or els in the hedde, and in thesame space, that is betwene the laste battaile of the firste five, and the extraordinarie pikes, accordyng as beste should serve my purpose, with thirtie or fourtie chosen men about hym, that knewe by prudence, how to execute a commission, and by force, to withstande a violence, and thei to be also betwen the drumme and the ansigne: this is thorder, with the whiche i would dispose a maine battaile, whiche should bee the disposyng of halfe the armie, and it should take in breadth three hundred fourscore and twoo yardes, and in length as moche as above is saied, not accomptyng the space, that thesame parte of the extraordinarie pikes will take, whiche muste make a defence for the unarmed, whiche will bee aboute lxxv. yardes: the other maine battaile, i would dispose on the righte side, after the same maner juste, as i have disposed that on the lefte, leavyng betwene the one main battaile, and thother, a space of xxii. yardes: in the hedde of whiche space, i would set some little carriages of artillerie, behynde the whiche, should stande the generall capitaine of all the armie, and should have about hym with the trumpet, and with the capitaine standerde, twoo hundred menne at least, chosen to be on foote the moste parte, emongest whiche there should be tenne or more, mete to execute all commaundementes, and should bee in soche wise a horsebacke, and armed, that thei mighte bee on horsebacke, and on foote, accordyng as neede should require. the artillerie of the armie, suffiseth ten cannons, for the winning of townes, whose shotte shoulde not passe fiftie pounde: the whiche in the fielde should serve mee more for defence of the campe, then for to fight the battaile: the other artillerie, should bee rather of ten, then of fifteene pounde the shotte: this i would place afore on the front of all the armie, if sometime the countrie should not stande in such wise, that i mighte place it by the flancke in a sure place, where it mighte not of the enemie be in daunger: this fashion of an armie thus ordered, may in fighting, use the order of the falangi, and the order of the romane legions: for that in the fronte, bee pikes, all the men bee set in the rankes, after such sorte, that incountering with the enemie, and withstanding him, maye after the use of the falangi, restore the firste ranckes, with those behinde: on the other parte, if they be charged so sore, that they be constrayned to breake the orders, and to retire themselves, they maye enter into the voide places of the seconde battailes, which they have behinde them, and unite their selves with them, and making a new force, withstande the enemie, and overcome him: and when this sufficeth not, they may in the verie same maner, retire them selves the seconde time, and the third fight: so that in this order, concerning to fight, there is to renue them selves, both according to the greeke maner, and according to the romane: concerning the strength of the armie, there cannot be ordayned a more stronger: for as much, as the one and the other borne therof, is exceedingly well replenished, both with heades, and weapons, nor there remayneth weake, other then the part behinde of the unarmed, and the same also, hath the flanckes impaled with the extraordinarie pikes: nor the enemie can not of anye parte assaulte it, where he shall not finde it well appointed, and the hinder parte can not be assaulted: because there can not bee an enemie, that hath so much puissaunce, whome equallye maye assault thee on everye side: for that hee having so great a power, thou oughtest not then to matche thy selfe in the fielde with him: but when he were three times more then thou, and as well appointed as thou, hee doth weaken him selfe in assaulting thee in divers places, one part that thou breakest, will cause all the reste go to naughte: concerning horses, although he chaunce to have more then thine, thou needest not feare: for that the orders of the pikes, which impale thee, defende thee from all violence of them, although thy horses were repulced. the heades besides this, be disposed in such place, that they may easyly commaunde, and obeye: the spaces that bee between the one battaile, and the other, and betweene the one order, and the other, not onely serve to be able to receyve the one the other, but also to give place to the messengers, whiche should go and come by order of the capitayne. and as i tolde you firste, howe the romanes had for an armie, aboute foure and twentie thousande men, even so this oughte to bee: and as the other souldiours tooke ensample of the legions, for the maner of fighting, and the fashion of the armie, so those souldiours, whiche you shoulde joyne to oure twoo mayne battailes, oughte to take the forme and order of them: whereof having put you an ensample, it is an easye matter to imitate it, for that increasing, either twoo other mayne battailes unto the armie, or as many other souldiours, as they bee, there is no other to bee done, then to double the orders, and where was put tenne battailes on the lefte parte, to put twentie, either ingrossing, or distending the orders, according as the place, or the enemie shoulde compell thee. luigi. surelye sir i imagine in suche wise of this armie, that mee thinkes i nowe see it, and i burne with a desire to see it incounter, and i woulde for nothing in the worlde, that you shoulde become fabius maximus intendyng to kepe the enemie at a baie, and to deferre the daie of battaile: bicause i would saie worse of you, then the romain people saied of hym. [sidenote: the descripcion of a battaile that is a faightyng.] fabricio. doubt not: doe you not heare the artillerie? ours have alredie shotte, but little hurte the enemie: and thextraordinarie veliti, issuyng out of their places together with the light horsemen, moste speadely, and with moste merveilous furie, and greateste crie that maie be, thei assaulte the enemie: whose artillerie hath discharged ones, and hath passed over the heddes of our footemen, without doyng them any hurt, and bicause it cannot shoote the seconde tyme, the veliti, and our horsemen, have nowe gotten it, and the enemies for to defende it, are come fore warde, so that neither our ordinaunce, nor thenemies, can any more doe their office. se with how moche vertue, strengthe and agilitie our men faighteth, and with how moche knowledge through the exercise, whiche hath made them to abide, and by the confidence, that thei have in the armie, the whiche, see, how with the pace therof, and with the men of armes on the sides, it marcheth in good order, to give the charge on the adversarie: see our artillerie, whiche to give theim place, and to leave them the space free, is retired by thesame space, from whens the veliti issued: see how the capitaine incourageth them, sheweth them the victorie certain: see how the veliti and light horsemen bee inlarged, and retourned on the flanckes of tharmie, to seke and view, if thei maie by the flanck, doe any injurie to the adversaries: behold how the armies be affronted. se with how moche valiauntnesse thei have withstode the violence of thenemies, and with how moche silence, and how the capitain commaundeth the menne of armes, that thei sustain, and not charge, and that thei breake not from the order of the footemen: see how our light horsemen be gone, to give the charge on a band of the enemies harkebutters, whiche would have hurt our men by flancke, and how the enemies horse have succoured them, so that tourned betwene the one and the other horse, thei cannot shoote, but are faine to retire behinde their owne battaile: see with what furie our pikes doe also affront, and how the footemen be now so nere together the one to the other, that the pikes can no more be occupied: so that according to the knowlege learned of us, our pikes do retire a little and a little betwen the targaettes. se how in this while a great bande of men of armes of the enemies, have charged our men of armes on the lefte side, and how ours, accordyng to knowlege, bee retired under the extraordinarie pikes, and with the help of those, giving again a freshe charge, have repulced the adversaries, and slain a good part of them: in so moche, that thordinarie pikes of the first battailes, be hidden betwene the raies of the targaettes, thei havyng lefte the faight to the targaet men: whom you maie see, with how moche vertue, securitie, and leasure, thei kill the enemie: see you not how moche by faightyng, the orders be thrust together? that thei can scarse welde their sweardes? behold with how moche furie the enemies move: bicause beyng armed with the pike, and with the swerd unprofitable (the one for beyng to long, the other for findyng thenemie to well armed) in part thei fall hurt or dedde, in parte thei flie. see, thei flie on the righte corner, thei flie also on the lefte: behold, the victorie is ours. have not we wonne a field moste happely? but with more happinesse it should bee wonne, if it were graunted me to put it in acte. and see, how there neded not the helpe of the seconde, nor of the third order, for our first fronte hath sufficed to overcome theim: in this part, i have no other to saie unto you, then to resolve if any doubt be growen you. [sidenote: questions concerning the shotyng of ordinaunce.] luigi. you have with so moche furie wonne this fielde that i so moche mervaile and am so astonied, that i beleve that i am not able to expresse, if any doubt remain in my mynde: yet trustyng in your prudence, i will be so bolde to tell thesame that i understande. tell me firste, why made you not your ordinaunce to shoote more then ones? and why straighte waie you made them to retire into tharmie, nor after made no mension of them? me thought also, that you leveled the artillerie of the enemie high, and appoincted it after your own devise: the whiche might very well bee, yet when it should happen, as i beleve it chaunseth often, that thei strike the rankes, what reamedie have you? and seyng that i have begun of the artillerie, i will finishe all this question, to the intente i nede not to reason therof any more. i have heard many dispraise the armours, and the orders of the aunciente armies, arguyng, how now a daies, thei can doe little, but rather should bee altogether unprofitable, havyng respecte to the furie of the artillerie: bicause, this breaketh the orders, and passeth the armours in soche wise, that it semeth unto them a foolishenesse to make an order, whiche cannot bee kepte, and to take pain to beare a harneis, that cannot defende a man. [sidenote: an aunswere to the questions that were demaunded, concernyng the shoting of ordinaunce; the best remedie to avoide the hurte that the enemie in the fielde maie doe with his ordinaunce; a policie against bowes and dartes; nothyng causeth greater confusion in an armie, than to hinder mennes fightes; nothing more blindeth the sight of men in an armie, then the smoke of ordinaunce; a policie to trouble the enemies sight; the shotte of greate ordinaunce in the fielde, is not moche to bee feared of fotemenne; bicause menne of armes stand closer together then light horsmen, thei ought to remaine behinde the armie till the enemies ordinaunce have done shootyng; the artillerie is no let, why the auncient orders of warfar ought not to be used in these daies.] fabricio. this question of yours (bicause it hath many heddes) hath neede of a long aunswere. it is true, that i made not thartillery to shoote more than ones, and also of thesame ones, i stoode in doubte: the occasion was, for asmoche as it importeth more, for one to take hede not to be striken, then it importeth to strike the enemie. you have to understande, that to purpose that a pece of ordinaunce hurte you not, it is necessarie either to stande where it cannot reche you, or to get behinde a wall, or behinde a banke: other thing there is not that can witholde it: and it is nedefull also, that the one and the other be moste strong. those capitaines whiche come to faight a field, cannot stand behind a wal, or behind bankes, nor where thei maie not be reached: therfore it is mete for them, seyng thei cannot finde a waie to defende them, to finde some mean, by the whiche thei maie be least hurte: nor thei cannot finde any other waie, then to prevente it quickly: the waie to prevent it, is to go to finde it out of hande, and hastely, not at leasure and in a heape: for that through spede, the blowe is not suffered to bee redoubled, and by the thinnesse, lesse nomber of menne maie be hurt. this, a bande of menne ordered, cannot dooe; bicause if thesame marche hastely, it goweth out of order: if it go scattered, the enemie shall have no paine to breake it, for that it breaketh by it self: and therfore, i ordered the armie after soche sorte, that it might dooe the one thyng and the other: for as moche as havyng set in the corners thereof, a thousande veliti, i appoincted that after that our ordinaunce had shotte, thei should issue out together with the light horsemen, to get the enemies artillerie: and therfore, i made not my ordinance to shoote again, to the intente, to give no tyme to the enemie to shoote: bicause space could not be given to me, and taken from other men, and for thesame occasion, where i made my ordinaunce not to shoote the seconde tyme, was for that i would not have suffered the enemie to have shot at al, if i had could: seyng that to mynde that the enemies artillerie be unprofitable, there is no other remedie, but to assaulte it spedely: for as moche as if the enemies forsake it, thou takeste it, if thei will defende it, it is requisite that thei leave it behind, so that being possessed of enemies, and of frendes, it cannot shoote. i would beleve, that with out insamples these reasons should suffice you, yet beyng able to shewe olde ensamples, to prove my saiynges true, i will. ventidio commyng to faight a field with the parthians, whose strength for the moste part, consisted in bowes and arrowes, he suffered theim almoste to come harde to his campe, before he drewe out his armie, the whiche onely he did, to be able quickly to prevent them: and not to give them space to shoote. cesar when he was in fraunce, maketh mencion, that in faighting a battaile with the enemies, he was with so moche furie assaulted of them, that his menne had no time to whorle their dartes, accordyng to the custome of the romaines: wherfore it is seen, that to intende, that a thyng that shooteth farre of, beyng in the field, doe not hurte thee, there is no other remedy, then with as moche celeritie as maie bee, to prevente it. an other cause moved me to procede, without shotyng the ordinaunce, whereat peradventure you will laugh: yet i judge not that it is to be dispraised. ther is nothyng that causeth greater confusion in an armie, then to hinder mennes fightes: whereby many moste puisaunte armies have been broken, by meanes their fighte hath been letted, either with duste, or with the sunne: yet there is nothyng, that more letteth the sight then the smoke that the artillerie maketh in shotyng: therfore, i would thinke that it wer more wisedome, to suffer the enemie to blinde hymself, then to purpose (thou being blind) to go to finde hym: for this cause, either i would not shote, or (for that this should not be proved, considering the reputacion that the artillerie hath) i would place it on the corners of the armie, so that shootyng, it should not with the smoke thereof, blinde the front of thesame, whiche is the importaunce of my men. and to prove that it is a profitable thyng, to let the sight of the enemie, there maie be brought for insample epaminondas, whom to blind the enemies armie, whiche came to faight with hym, he caused his light horsemen, to run before the fronte of the enemies, to raise up the duste, and to lette their sight, whereby he gotte the victorie. and where it semeth unto you, that i have guided the shot of the artillerie, after my owne devise, making it to passe over the heddes of my men, i answer you, that most often tymes, and without comparison, the greate ordinaunce misse the footemen, moche soner than hitte theim: for that the footemen are so lowe, and those so difficult to shoote; that every little that thou raisest theim, thei passe over the heddes of men: and if thei be leveled never so little to lowe, thei strike in the yearth, and the blowe cometh not to theim: also the unevenesse of the grounde saveth them, for that every little hillocke, or high place that is, betwene the men and thordinance, letteth the shot therof. and concernyng horsmen, and in especially men of armes, bicause thei ought to stand more close together, then the light horsemen, and for that thei are moche higher, maie the better be stroken, thei maie, untill the artillerie have shotte, be kepte in the taile of the armie. true it is, that the harkebutters doe moche more hurt, and the field peces, then the greate ordinance, for the whiche, the greatest remedy is, to come to hande strokes quickly: and if in the firste assaulte, there be slaine some, alwaies there shall bee slaine: but a good capitaine, and a good armie, ought not to make a coumpte of a hurte, that is particulare, but of a generall, and to imitate the suizzers, whom never eschue to faight, beyng made afraied of the artillerie: but rather punishe with death those, whiche for feare thereof, either should go out of the ranke, or should make with his body any signe of feare. i made them (so sone as thei had shotte) to bee retired into the armie, that thei might leave the waie free for the battaile: i made no more mencion of theim, as of a thyng unprofitable, the faight beyng begun. you have also saied, that consideryng the violence of this instrument, many judge the armours, and the auncient orders to be to no purpose, and it semeth by this your talke, that men now a daies, have founde orders and armours, whiche are able to defend them against the artillerie: if you knowe this, i would bee glad that you would teache it me: for that hetherto, i never sawe any, nor i beleve that there can any be founde: so that i would understande of soche men, for what cause the souldiours on foote in these daies, weare the breastplate, or the corselet of steele, and thei on horsebacke go all armed: bicause seyng that thei blame the aunciente armyng of men as unprofitable, considryng the artillery, thei ought to despise also this? i would understande moreover, for what occasion the suizzers, like unto the auncient orders, make a battaile close together of sixe, or eight thousande menne, and for what occasion all other have imitated theim, this order bearyng the verie same perill, concernyng the artillerie, that those other should beare, whiche should imitate the antiquitie. i beleve thei should not knowe what to answere: but if you should aske soche souldiours, as had some judgement, thei would aunswere first, that thei go armed, for that though thesame armoure defende theim not from the artillerie: it defendeth them from crossebowes, from pikes, from sweardes, from stones, and from all other hurt, that commeth from the enemies, thei would answere also, that thei went close together, like the suizzers, to be able more easely to overthrow the footemen, to be able to withstand better the horse and to give more difficultie to the enemie to breake them: so that it is seen, that the souldiours have to fear, many other thynges besides the ordinance: from which thynges, with the armours, and with the orders, thei are defended: whereof foloweth, that the better that an armie is armed, and the closer that it hath the orders, and stronger, so moche the surer it is: so that he that is of thesame opinion, that you saie, it behoveth either that he bee of smalle wisedome, or that in this thyng, he hath studied verie little: for as moche as if we see, that so little a parte of the aunciente maner of armyng, whiche is used now a daies, that is the pike, and so little a parte of those orders, as are the maine battailes of the suizzers, dooe us so moche good, and cause our armies to bee so strong, why ought not we to beleve, that the other armours, and thother orders whiche are lefte, be profitable? seyng that if we have no regard to the artillerie, in puttyng our selves close together, as the suizzers, what other orders maie make us more to feare thesame? for as moche as no order can cause us so moche to feare thesame, as those, whiche bryng men together. besides this, if the artillerie of the enemies should not make me afraied, in besiegyng a toune, where it hurteth me with more safegarde, beyng defended of a wall, i beyng not able to prevente it, but onely with tyme, with my artillerie to lette it, after soche sorte that it maie double the blowe as it liste, why should i feare thesame in the field, where i maie quickly prevent it? so that i conclude thus, that the artillerie, according to my opinion, doeth not let, that the aunciente maners cannot be used, and to shewe the auncient vertue: and if i had not talked alreadie with you of this instrument, i would of thesame, declare unto you more at length: but i will remit my self to that, whiche then i saied. luigi. wee maie now understande verie well, how moche you have aboute the artillerie discoursed: and in conclusion, my thinkes you have shewed, that the preventyng it quickly, is the greatest remedie, that maie be had for thesame, beyng in the fielde, and havyng an armie againste you. upon the whiche there groweth in me a doubte: bicause me thinkes, that the enemie might place his ordinaunce in soche wise, in his armie, that it should hurt you, and should be after soche sort garded of the footemen, that it could not be prevented. you have (if you remember your self well) in the orderyng of your armie to faight, made distaunces of three yardes, betwene the one battaile and the other, makyng those distaunces fiftene, whiche is from the battailes, to thextraordinarie pikes: if thenemie, shuld order his armie like unto yours, and should putte the artillerie a good waie within those spaces, i beleve that from thens, it should hurte you with their moste greate safegard: bicause menne can not enter into the force of their enemies to prevent it. [sidenote: a generall rule againste soche thynges as cannot bee withstoode.] fabricio. you doubt moste prudently, and i will devise with my self, either to resolve you the doubte, or shewe you the remedie: i have tolde you, that continually these battailes, either through goyng, or thorowe faightyng, are movyng, and alwaies naturally, thei come to drawe harde together, so that if you make the distaunces of a small breadth, where you set the artillerie, in a little tyme thei be shootte up, after soche sort, that the artillerie cannot any more shoote: if you make theim large, to avoide this perill, you incurre into a greater, where you through those distances, not onely give commoditie to the enemie, to take from you the artillerie, but to breake you: but you have to understande, that it is impossible to keepe the artillerie betwene the bandes, and in especially those whiche go on carriages: for that the artillerie goeth one waie, and shooteth an other waie: so that havyng to go and to shoote, it is necessary, before thei shote, that thei tourne, and for to tourne theim, thei will have so moche space, that fiftie cartes of artillerie, would disorder any armie: therfore, it is mete to kepe them out of the bandes, where thei may be overcome in the maner, as a little afore we have shewed: but admit thei might be kept, and that there might be found a waie betwen bothe, and of soche condicion, that the presyng together of men should not hinder the artillerie, and were not so open that it should give waie to the enemie, i saie, that it is remedied moste easely, with makyng distances in thy armie against it, whiche maie give free passage to the shot of those, and so the violence thereof shall come to be vain, the which maie be doen moste easely: for asmoche, as the enemie mindyng to have his artillerie stand safe, it behoveth that he put them behinde, in the furthest part of the distances, so that the shot of the same, he purposyng that thei hurt not his owne men, ought to passe by right line, and by that very same alwaies: and therefore with givyng theim place, easely thei maie bee avoided: for that this is a generall rule, that to those thynges, whiche cannot be withstoode, there must bee given waie, as the antiquitie made to the eliphantes, and to the carres full of hookes. i beleve, ye, i am more then certaine, that it semeth unto you, that i have ordered and wonne a battaile after my own maner: notwithstanding, i answeer unto you this, when so moche as i have saied hetherto, should not suffice, that it should be impossible, that an armie thus ordered, and armed, should not overcome at the first incounter, any other armie that should bee ordained, as thei order the armies now adaies, whom most often tymes, make not but one front, havyng no targaettes, and are in soche wise unarmed, that thei cannot defende themselves from the enemie at hand, and thei order theim after soche sorte, that if thei set their battailes by flanck, the one to the other, thei make the armie thinne: if thei put the one behind the other, havyng no waie to receive the one the other, thei doe it confusedly, and apt to be easly troubled: and although thei give three names to their armies, and devide them into thre companies, vaward, battaile, and rereward, notwithstandyng it serveth to no other purpose, then to marche, and to distinguis the lodgynges: but in the daie of battaile, thei binde them all to the first brunte, and to the first fortune. luigi. i have noted also in the faightyng of your fielde, how your horsemen were repulced of the enemies horsemen: for whiche cause thei retired to the extraordinaire pikes: whereby grewe, that with the aide of theim, thei withstode, and drave the enemies backe? i beleve that the pikes maie withstande the horses, as you saie, but in a grosse and thicke maine battaile, as the suizzers make: but you in your army, have for the hedde five rankes of pikes, and for the flancke seven, so that i cannot tell how thei maie bee able to withstande them. [sidenote: a battaile how greate so ever it bee, cannot atones occupy above v. rankes of pikes.] fabricio. yet i have told you, how sixe rankes of pikes wer occupied at ones, in the macedonicall falangi, albeit you ought to understande, that a maine battaile of suizzers, if it were made of a thousande rankes, it cannot occupie more then fower, or at the most five: bicause the pikes be sixe yardes and three quarters longe, one yarde and halfe a quarter, is occupied of the handes, wherefore to the firste ranke, there remaineth free five yardes and a half, and a halfe quarter of pike: the seconde ranke besides that whiche is occupied with the hande, consumeth a yarde and half a quarter in the space, whiche remaineth betwene the one ranke and thother: so that there is not left of pike profitable, more then fower yardes and a halfe: to the thirde ranke, by this verie same reason, there remaineth three yardes and a quarter and a halfe: to the fowerth, twoo yardes and a quarter: to the fift one yard and halfe a quarter: the other rankes, for to hurte, be unprofitable, but thei serve to restore these firste rankes, as we have declared, and to bee a fortificacion to those v. then if five of their rankes can withstande the horse, why cannot five of ours withstande theim? to the whiche also there lacketh not rankes behinde, that doeth sustain and make them the very same staie, although thei have no pikes as the other. and when the rankes of thextraordinarie pikes, which are placed on the flanckes, should seme unto you thinne, thei maie bee brought into a quadrante, and put on the flancke nere the twoo battailes, whiche i set in the laste companie of the armie: from the whiche place, thei maie easely altogether succour the fronte, and the backe of the armie, and minister helpe to the horses, accordyng as nede shall require. luigi. would you alwaies use this forme of order, when you would pitche a fielde. [sidenote: an advertiement concernyng the pitchying of a field.] fabricio. no in no wise: for that you ought to varie the facion of the armie, according to the qualitie of the situacion, and the condicion and quantitie of the enemie, as before this reasonyng dooe ende, shall bee shewed certaine insamples: but this forme is given unto you, not so moche as moste strongeste of all, where in deede it is verie strong, as to the intente that thereby you maie take a rule, and an order to learne to knowe the waies to ordeine the other: for as moche, as every science hath his generalitie, upon the whiche a good part of it is grounded. one thing onely i advise you, that you never order an armie, after soche sorte, that those that faight afore, cannot bee sucoured of theim, whiche be set behind: bicause he that committeth this errour, maketh the greateste parte of his armie to bee unprofitable, and if it incounter any strength, it cannot overcome. luigi. there is growen in me, upon this parte a doubte. i have seen that in the placyng of the battailes, you make the fronte of five on a side, the middeste of three, and the last partes of twoo, and i beleve, that it were better to ordain them contrariwise: for that i thinke, that an armie should with more difficultie bee broken, when he that should charge upon it, the more that he should entre into the-same, so moche the stronger he should finde it: and the order devised of you, me thinkes maketh, that the more it is entered into, so moche the weaker it is founde. [sidenote: how the front of the armie ought to bee made; how the middell part of the armie ought to be ordered.] fabricio. if you should remember how to the triarii, whom were the thirde order of the romain legions, there were not assigned more then sixe hundred men, you would doubt lesse, havyng understode how thei were placed in the laste companie: for that you should see, how i moved of this insample, have placed in the last companie twoo battailes, whiche are nine hundred men, so that i come rather (folowyng the insample of the romaine people) to erre, for havyng taken to many, then to fewe: and although this insample should suffice, i will tell you the reason, the which is this. the first fronte of the armie, is made perfectly whole and thicke, bicause it must withstande the brunt of the enemies, and it hath not to receive in it any of their felowes: and for this, it is fitte that it bee full of menne: bicause a fewe menne, should make it weake, either thinnesse, or for lacke of sufficiente nomber: but the seconde companie, for as moche as it must first receive their frendes, to sustain the enemie, it is mete that it have greate spaces, and for this it behoveth, that it be of lesse nomber then the first: for that if it wer of greater nomber, or equall, it should bee conveniente, either not to leave the distaunces, the whiche should be disorder, or leavyng theim, to passe the boundes of thoseafore, the whiche should make the facion of the armie unperfecte: and it is not true that you saie, that the enemie, the more that he entereth into the maine battaile, so moche the weaker he findeth it: for that the enemie, can never faight with the seconde order, except the first be joined with thesame: so that he cometh to finde the middest of the maine battaile more stronger, and not more weaker, havyng to faight with the first, and with the seconde order altogether: the verie same happeneth, when the enemie should come to the thirde companie: for that there, not with twoo battailes, whiche is founde freshe, but with all the maine battaile he must faight: and for that this last part hath to receive moste men, the spaces therof is requisite to be greatest, and that whiche receiveth them, to be the leste nomber. [sidenote: the orderyng of the hinder part of tharmy.] luigi. it pleaseth me thesame that you have told: but answere me also this: if the five first battailes doe retire betwene the three seconde battailes, and after the eight betwene the twoo thirde, it semeth not possible, that the eight beyng brought together, and then the tenne together, maie bee received when thei bee eight, or when thei be tenne in the verie same space, whiche received the five. [sidenote: the retire of the pikes, to place the targaet men.] fabricio. the first thyng that i aunswere is, that it is not the verie same space: for that the five have fower spaces in the middeste, whiche retiryng betwene the thre, or betwene the twoo, thei occupie: then there remaineth thesame space, that is betwene the one maine battaile and other and thesame that is, betwene the battailes, and the extraordinarie pikes, al the whiche spaces makes largenesse: besides this, it is to bee considered, that the battailes kepe other maner of spaces, when thei bee in the orders without beyng altered, then when thei be altered: for that in the alteracion: either thei throng together, or thei inlarge the orders: thei inlarge theim, when thei feare so moche, that thei fall to fliyng, thei thrust them together, when thei feare in soche wise, that thei seke to save them selves, not with runnyng a waie, but with defence: so that in this case, thei should come to be destingueshed, and not to be inlarged. moreover, the five rankes of the pikes, that are before, so sone as thei have begun the faighte, thei ought betwene their battailes to retire, into the taile of the armie, for to give place to the targaet men, that thei maie faighte: and thei goyng into the taile of the armie, maie dooe soche service as the capitain should judge, were good to occupie theim aboute, where in the forward, the faight beyng mingled, thei should otherwise bee altogether unprofitable. and for this the spaces ordained, come to bee for the remnaunte of the menne, wide inough to receive them: yet when these spaces should not suffice, the flankes on the sides be men, and not walles, whom givyng place, and inlargyng them selves, maie make the space to containe so moche, that it maie bee sufficient to receive theim. [sidenote: how the pikes that are placed on the flankes of the armie ought to governe them selves when the rest of the armie is driven to retire.] luigi. the rankes of the extraordinarie pikes, whiche you place on the flanckes of the armie, when the first battailes retire into the second, will you have them to stande still, and remain with twoo homes to the armie? or will you that thei also retire together, with the battailes? the whiche when thei should do, i see not how thei can, havyng no battailes behinde with distaunces that maie receive them. [sidenote: thexercise of the army in generall; the nomber that is mete to be written in the ansigne of every band of men; the degrees of honours in an armie, whiche soche a man ought to rise by, as should bee made a generall capitain.] fabricio. if the enemie overcome theim not, when he inforceth the battailes to retire, thei maie stande still in their order, and hurte the enemie on the flanck, after that the firste battailes retired: but if he should also overcome theim, as semeth reason, beyng so puisaunte, that he is able to repulce the other, thei also ought to retire: whiche thei maie dooe excellently well, although thei have not behinde, any to receive them: bicause from the middest thei maie redouble by right line, entring the one ranke into the other, in the maner whereof wee reasoned, when it was spoken of the order of redoublyng: true it is, that to mynde redoublyng to retire backe, it behoveth to take an other waie, then thesame that i shewed you: for that i told you, that the second ranke, ought to enter into the first, the fowerth into the thirde, and so foorth: in this case, thei ought not to begin before, but behinde, so that redoublyng the rankes, thei maie come to retire backewarde not to tourne forward: but to aunswere to all thesame, that upon this foughten field by me shewed, might of you bee replied. i saie unto you again, that i have ordained you this armie, and shewed this foughten field for two causes, thone, for to declare unto you how it is ordered, the other to shewe you how it is exercised: thorder, i beleve you understande moste well: and concernyng the exersice, i saie unto you, that thei ought to be put together in this forme, as often times as maie be: for as moche as the heddes learne therby, to kepe their battailes in these orders: for that to particulare souldiours, it appertaineth to keepe well the orders of every battaile, to the heddes of the battailes, it appertaineth to keepe theim well in every order of the armie, and that thei knowe how to obeie, at the commaundement of the generall capitain: therefore, it is conveniente that thei knowe, how to joyne the one battaile with thother, that thei maie knowe how to take their place atones: and for this cause it is mete that thansigne of every battaile, have written in some evident part, the nomber therof: as well for to be able to commaunde them, as also for that the capitain, and the souldiours by thesame nomber, maie more easely knowe theim againe: also the maine battailes, ought to be nombred, and to have the nomber in their principal ansigne: therefore it is requisite, to knowe of what nomber the maine battaile shall be, that is placed on the left, or on the right horne of what nombers the battailes bee, that are set in the fronte, and in the middeste, and so foorthe of the other. the antiquitie would also, that these nombers should bee steppes to degrees, of honors of the armies: as for insample, the first degree, is the peticapitain, the seconde, the hedde of fiftie ordinarie veliti, the thirde, the centurion, the fowerth, the hedde of the first battaile, the fifte, of the second, the sixt, of the thirde, and so forthe, even to the tenth battaile, the whiche must be honoured in the seconde place, nexte the generall capitaine of a maine battaile: nor any ought to come to thesame hedde, if first, he have not risen up by all these degrees. and bicause besides these heddes, there be the three conestables of the extraordinarie pikes, and twoo of the extraordinarie veliti, i would that thei should be in the same degree of the conestable of the first battaile: nor i would not care, that there were sixe men of like degree, to thintent, that every one of them might strive, who should doe beste, for to be promised to be hedde of the seconde battaile. then every one of these heddes, knowyng in what place his battaile ought to be sette in, of necessitie it must folowe, that at a sounde of the trompette, so sone as the hedde standarde shall bee erected, all the armie shall be in their places: and this is the first exercise, whereunto an armie ought to bee accustomed, that is to set theim quickly together: and to doe this, it is requisite every daie, and divers times in one daie, to set them in order, and to disorder them. luigi. what armes would you that thansignes of all the armie, shoul'd have beside the nomber? [sidenote: the armes that oughte to bee in the standarde, and in the ansignes of an armie; the second and thirde exercise of an armie; the fowerth exercise of an armie; the soundes of the instrumentes of musicke, that the antiquitie used in their armies; what is signified by the sounde of the trompet.] fabricio. the standarde of the generall capitaine oughte to have the armes of the prince of the armie, all the other, maie have the verie same armes, and to varie with the fieldes, or to varie with the armes, as should seme beste to the lorde of the armie: bicause this importeth little, so that the effect growe, that thei be knowen the one from the other. but let us passe to the other exercise: the which is to make them to move, and with a convenient pace to marche, and to se, that marehyng thei kepe the orders. the third exercise is, that thei learne to handle themselves in thesame maner, whiche thei ought after to handle theimselves in the daie of battaile, to cause the artillerie to shoote, and to bee drawen out of the waie, to make the extraordinarie veliti to issue out, after a likenes of an assault, to retire theim: to make that the firste battailes, as though thei wer sore charged, retire into the spaces of the second: and after, all into the thirde, and from thens every one to retourne to his place: and in soche wise to use theim in this exercise, that to every manne, all thyng maie be knowen, and familiar: the which with practise, and with familiaritie, is brought to passe moste quickly. the fowerth exercise is, that thei learne to knowe by meane of the sounde, and of the ansigne, the commaundemente of their capitaine: for as moche as that, whiche shall be to them pronounced by voice, thei without other commaundemente, maie understande: and bicause the importaunce of this commaundement, ought to growe of the sounde, i shall tell you what soundes the antiquitie used. of the lacedemonians, accordyng as tucidido affirmeth, in their armies were used flutes: for that thei judged, that this armonie, was moste mete to make their armie to procede with gravetie, and with furie: the carthaginens beyng moved by this verie same reason, in the first assaulte, used the violone. aliatte kyng of the lidians, used in the warre the violone, and the flutes: but alexander magnus, and the romaines, used hornes, and trumpettes, as thei, that thought by vertue of soche instrumentes, to bee able to incourage more the myndes of souldiours, and make theim to faight the more lustely: but as we have in armyng the armie, taken of the greke maner, and of the romaine, so in distrihutyng the soundes, we will keepe the customes of the one, and of the other nacion: therefore, nere the generall capitain, i would make the trompettes to stand, as a sounde not onely apt to inflame the armie, but apte to bee heard in all the whole tumoult more, then any other sounde: all the other soundes, whiche should bee aboute the conestables, and the heddes of maine battailes i would, that thei should bee smalle drummes, and flutes, sounded not as thei sounde theim now but as thei use to sounde theim at feastes. the capitaine then with the trompet, should shewe when thei must stande still, and go forward, or tourne backward, when the artillerie must shoote, when the extraordinarie veliti must move, and with the varietie or distinccion of soche soundes, to shewe unto the armie all those mocions, whiche generally maie bee shewed, the whiche trompettes, should bee after followed of the drummes, and in this exercise, bicause it importeth moche, it behoveth moche to exercise the armie. concernyng the horsemen, there would be used likewise trompettes, but of a lesse sounde, and of a divers voice from those of the capitaine. this is as moche as is come into my remembraunce, aboute the order of the armie, and of the exercise of thesame. luigi. i praie you let it not be grevous unto you to declare unto me an other thyng, that is, for what cause you made the light horsmen, and the extraordinarie veliti, to goe with cries, rumours, and furie, when thei gave the charge? and after in the incountering of the rest of tharmie, you shewed, that the thing folowed with a moste greate scilence? and for that i understande not the occasion of this varietie, i would desire that you would declare it unto me. [sidenote: the cries, and rumours, wher with the firste charge is given unto the enemies, and the silence that ought to bee used after, when the faight is ones begunne.] fabricio. the opinion of auncient capitaines, hath been divers about the commyng to handes, whether thei ought with rumour to go a pace, or with scilence to go faire and softely: this laste waie, serveth to kepe the order more sure, and to understande better the commaundementes of the capitaine: the firste, serveth to incourage more the mindes of men: and for that i beleve, that respecte ought to bee had to the one, and to the other of these twoo thynges, i made the one goe with rumour, and thother with scilence: nor me thinkes not in any wise, that the continuall rumours bee to purpose: bicause thei lette the commaundementes, the whiche is a thyng moste pernicious: nor it standeth not with reason, that the romaines used, except at the firste assaulte to make rumour: for that in their histories, is seen many tymes to have happened, that through the wordes, and comfortinges of the capitain the souldiours that ranne awaie, were made to stande to it, and in sundrie wise by his commaundemente, to have varied the orders, the whiche should not have followed, if the rumoures had been louder then his voyce. the fowerth booke luigi. seng that under my governement, a field hath been wonne so honourably, i suppose that it is good, that i tempt not fortune any more, knowyng how variable, and unstable she is: and therefore, i desire to give up my governement, and that zanobi do execute now this office of demaundyng, mindyng to followe the order, whiche concerneth the youngeste: and i knowe he will not refuse this honoure, or as we would saie, this labour, as well for to doe me pleasure, as also for beyng naturally of more stomach than i: nor it shall not make hym afraied, to have to enter into these travailes, where he maie bee as well overcome, as able to conquere. zanobi. i am readie to do what soever shall please you to appoinete me, although that i desire more willingly to heare: for as moche as hetherto, your questions have satisfied me more, then those should have pleased me, whiche in harkenyng to your reasonyng, hath chaunced to come into my remembraunce. but sir, i beleve that it is good, that you lese no tyme, and that you have pacience, if with these our ceremonies we trouble you. fabricio. you doe me rather pleasure, for that this variacion of demaunders, maketh me to knowe the sundrie wittes and sunderie appetites of yours: but remaineth there any thyng, whiche seemeth unto you good, to bee joyned to the matter, that alreadie hath been reasoned of? zanobi. twoo thinges i desire, before you passe to an other parte: the one is, to have you to shewe, if in orderyng armies, there needeth to bee used any other facion: the other, what respectes a capitaine ought to have, before he conducte his men to the faight, and in thesame an accidente risyng or growyng, what reamedie maie be had. [sidenote: to deffende moche the fronte of an armie, is most perillous; what is beste for a capitaine to dooe, where his power is, moche lesse then thenemies power; a general rule; the higher grounde ought to be chosen; an advertisement not to place an armie wher the enemie maie se what the same doeth; respectes for the sonne and winde; the variyng of order and place maie cause the conquered to become victorius; a policie in the ordering of men and pitchyng of a fielde; how to compasse about the enemies power; how a capitaine maie faight and bee as it were sure, not to be overcome; how to trouble the orders of the enemie; what a capitaine oughte to dooe when he hath not so many horsmen as the enemie; a greate aide for horsemen; the policies used betwene aniball and scipio.] fabricio. i will inforce my self to satisfie you, i will not answere now distinctly to your questions: for that whileste i shall aunswere to one, many tymes it will come to passe, that i muste aunswere to an other. i have tolde you, how i have shewed you a facion of an armie, to the intent, that accordyng to thesame, there maie bee given all those facions, that the enemie, and the situacion requireth: for as moche as in this case, bothe accordyng to the power thereof, and accordyng to the enemie, it proceadeth: but note this, that there is not a more perillous facion, then to deffende moche the front of tharmie, if then thou have not a most puisant, and moste great hoste: otherwise, thou oughtest to make it rather grosse, and of small largenesse, then of moche largenes and thin: for when thou hast fewe men in comparison to thenemie, thou oughtest to seke other remedies, as is to ordain thine army in soche a place, wher thou maiest be fortefied, either through rivers, or by meanes of fennes, after soch sort, that thou canst not bee compassed aboute, or to inclose thy self on the flanckes with diches, as cesar did in fraunce. you have to take in this cace, this generall rule, to inlarge your self, or to draw in your self with the front, according to your nomber, and thesame of the enemie. for thenemies being of lesse nomber, thou oughtest to seke large places, havyng in especially thy men well instructed: to the intent thou maiest, not onely compasse aboute the enemie, but to deffende thy orders: for that in places rough and difficulte, beyng not able to prevaile of thy orders, thou commeste not to have any advauntage, hereby grewe, that the romaines almoste alwaies, sought the open fieldes, and advoided the straightes. to the contrarie, as i have said, thou oughtest to doe, if thou hast fewe menne, or ill instructed: for that then thou oughteste to seeke places, either where the little nomber maye be saved, and where the small experience dooe not hurte thee: thou oughtest also to chuse the higher grounde, to be able more easily to infest them: notwithstandyng, this advertisment ought to be had, not to ordaine thy armie, where the enemie maie spie what thou doest and in place nere to the rootes of the same, where the enemies armie maie come: for that in this case, havyng respecte unto the artillerie, the higher place shall gette thee disadvauntage: bicause that alwaies and commodiously, thou mightest of the enemies artillerie bee hurte, without beyng able to make any remedy, and thou couldest not commodiously hurte thesame, beyng hindered by thine owne men. also, he that prepareth an armie to faight a battaile, ought to have respecte, bothe to the sunne, and to the winde, that the one and the other, doe not hurte the fronte, for that the one and the other, will let thee the sight, the one with the beames, and the other with the duste: and moreover, the winde hindereth the weapons, whiche are stroken at the enemie, and maketh their blowes more feable: and concerning the sunne, it sufficeth not to have care, that at the firste it shine not in the face, but it is requisite to consider, that increasyng the daie, it hurte thee not: and for this, it should bee requsite in orderyng the men, to have it all on the backe, to the entente it should have to passe moche tyme, to come to lye on the fronte. this waie was observed of aniball at canne, and of mario against the cimbrians. if thou happen to be moche inferiour of horses, ordaine thine armie emongeste vines, and trees, and like impedimentes, as in our time the spaniardes did, when thei overthrewe the frenchmenne at cirignuola. and it hath been seen many times, with all one souldiours, variyng onely the order, and the place, that thei have become of losers victorers: as it happened to the carthageners, whom havyng been overcome of marcus regolus divers tymes, were after by the counsaill of santippo a lacedemonian, victorious: whom made them to go doune into the plaine, where by vertue of the horses, and of eliphantes, thei were able to overcome the romaines. it semes unto me, accordyng to the auncient insamples that almoste all the excellente capitaines, when thei have knowen, that the enemie hath made strong one side of his battaile, thei have not set against it, the moste strongest parte, but the moste weakest, and thother moste strongest thei have set against the most weakest: after in the beginning the faighte, thei have commaunded to their strongest parte, that onely thei sustaine the enemie, and not to preace upon hym, and to the weaker, that thei suffer them selves to be overcome, and to retire into the hindermoste bandes of the armie. this breadeth twoo greate disorders to the enemie: the firste, that he findeth his strongest parte compassed about, the second is, that semyng unto him to have the victorie, seldome tymes it happeneth, that thei disorder not theim selves, whereof groweth his sodain losse. cornelius scipio beyng in spain, againste asdruball of carthage, and understanding how to asdruball it was knowen, that he in the orderyng the armie, placed his legions in the middest, the whiche was the strongest parte of his armie, and for this how asdruball with like order ought to procede: after when he came to faighte the battaile, he chaunged order, and put his legions on the hornes of the armie, and in the middest, placed all his weakeste men: then commyng to the handes, in a sodain those men placed in the middeste, he made to marche softly, and the hornes of the armie, with celeritie to make forwarde, so that onely the hornes of bothe the armies fought, and the bandes in the middest, through beyng distaunt the one from the other, joyned not together, and thus the strongest parte of scipio, came to faight with the weakest of asdruball, and overcame hym. the whiche waie was then profitable, but now havyng respect to the artillerie, it cannot be used: bicause the same space, whiche should remain in the middest, betwene the one armie and the other, should give tyme to thesame to shoote: the whiche is moste pernicious, as above is saied: therefore it is requisite to laie this waie aside, and to use, as a little afore we saied, makyng all the armie to incounter, and the weakest parte to give place. when a capitaine perceiveth, that he hath a greater armie then his enemie, mindyng to compasse hym aboute, before he be aware let hym ordaine his fronte equall, to thesame of his adversaries, after, so sone as the faight is begun, let hym make the fronte by a little and little to retire, and the flanckes to deffende, and alwaies it shall happen, that the enemie shal find hymself, before he be aware compassed about. when a capitain will faight, as it wer sure not to be broken, let hym ordaine his armie in place, where he hath refuge nere, and safe, either betwene fennes, or betwene hilles, or by some strong citee: for that in this case, he cannot bee followed of the enemie, where the enemie maie be pursued of him: this poincte was used of aniball, when fortune began to become his adversarie, and that he doubted of the valiauntnesse of marcus marcello. some to trouble the orders of the enemie, have commaunded those that were light armed, to begin the faight, and that beyng begunne, to retire betwene the orders: and when the armies were after buckled together, and that the fronte of either of them were occupied in faightyng, thei have made theim to issue out by the flanckes of the battaile, and thesame have troubled and broken. if any perceive hymself to bee inferiour of horse, he maie besides the waies that are alredie shewed, place behinde his horsemen a battaile of pikes, and in faightyng take order, that thei give waie to the pikes, and he shall remain alwaies superiour. many have accustomed to use certain fotemenne lighte armed, to faighte emong horsemen, the whiche hath been to the chivalrie moste greate helpe. of all those, which have prepared armies to the field, be moste praised aniball and scipio, when thei fought in africk: and for that aniball had his armie made of carthaginers, and of straungers of divers nacions, he placed in the first fronte thereof lxxx. elephantes, after he placed the straungers, behinde whom he sette his carthaginers, in the hindermoste place, he putte the italians, in whom he trusted little: the whiche thing he ordained so, for that the straungers havyng before theim the enemie, and behinde beyng inclosed of his men, could not flie: so that being constrained to faight thei should overcome, or wearie the romaines, supposyng after with his freshe and valiaunte men, to be then able easely to overcome the romaines, beeyng wearied. against this order, scipio set the astati, the prencipi, and the triarii, in the accustomed maner, to bee able to receive the one the other, and to rescue the one the other: he made the fronte of the armie, full of voide spaces, and bicause it should not be perceived but rather should seme united, he filled them ful of veliti, to whom he commaunded, that so sone as the eliphantes came, thei should avoide, and by the ordinarie spaces, should enter betwene the legins, and leave open the waie to the eliphauntes, and so it came to passe, that it made vaine the violence of theim, so that commyng to handes, he was superiour. zanobi. you have made me to remember, in alledging me this battaile, how scipio in faighting, made not the astati to retire into thorders of the prencipi, but he devided theim, and made theim to retire in the hornes of the armie, to thintent thei might give place to the prencipi, when he would force forwarde: therfore i would you should tell me, what occasion moved hym, not to observe the accustomed order. [sidenote: cartes full of hookes made to destroie the enemies; the remedy that was used against cartes full of hookes; the straunge maner that silla used in orderyng his army against archelaus; how to trouble in the faighte the armie of the enemies; a policie of caius sulpitius, to make his enemies afraied; a policie of marius againste the duchmenne; a policie of greate importaunce, while a battaile is a faightyng; how horsemen maie bee disordered; how the turke gave the sophie an overthrowe; how the spaniardes overcame the armie of amilcare; how to traine the enemie, to his destruccion; a policie of tullo hostilio and lucius silla in dessemlyng of a mischaunce; sertorius slue a man for telling him of the death of one of his capitaines; howe certaine captaines have staied their men that hath been running awaie; attillius constrained his men that ran awaie to tourne again and to faight; how philip king of macedonia made his men afraied to run awaie; victorie ought with all celeritie to bee folowed; what a capitaine ought to dooe, when he should chaunce to receive an overthrowe; how martius overcame the armie of the carthaginers; a policie of titus dimius to hide a losse, whiche he had received in a faight; a general rule; aniball; scipio; asdruball; a capitaine ought not to faight without advantage, excepte he be constrained; how advauntage maie bee taken of the enemies; furie withstode, converteth into vilenesse; what maner of men a capitaine ought to have about him continually, to consult withall; the condicions of the capitain of the enemies, and of those that are about hym is moste requisite to bee knowen; a timerous army is not to be conducted to faight; how to avoide the faightyng of a fielde.] fabricio. i will tell you. aniball had putte all the strengthe of his armie, in the seconde bande: wherefore scipio for to set againste thesame like strengthe, gathered the prencipi and the triarii together: so that the distaunces of the prencipi, beyng occupied of the triarii, there was no place to bee able to receive the astati: and therefore he made the astati to devide, and to go in the hornes of the armie, and he drewe them not betwene the prencipi. but note, that this waie of openyng the first bande, for to give place to the seconde, cannot bee used, but when a man is superiour to his enemie: for that then there is commoditie to bee able to dooe it, as scipio was able: but beyng under, and repulced, it cannot be doen, but with thy manifest ruine: and therefore it is convenient to have behinde, orders that maie receive thee, but let us tourne to our reasonyng. the auncient asiaticans, emongest other thynges devised of them to hurt the enemies, used carres. the whiche had on the sides certaine hookes, so that not onely thei served to open with their violence the bandes, but also to kill with the hookes the adversaries: against the violence of those, in thre maners thei provided, either thei sustained theim with the thickenesse of the raies, or thei received theim betwene the bandes, as the eliphantes were received, or els thei made with arte some strong resistence: as silla a romaine made againste archelaus, whom had many of these cartes, whiche thei called hooked, who for to sustaine theim, drave many stakes into the grounde, behinde his first bandes of men, whereby the cartes beyng stopped, lost their violence. and the newe maner that silla used against hym in orderyng the armie, is to bee noted: for that he put the veliti, and the horse, behinde, and all the heavie armed afore, leavyng many distaunces to be able to sende before those behinde, when necessite required: whereby the fight beyng begun, with the helpe of the horsemen, to the whiche he gave the waie, he got the victorie. to intende to trouble in the faight the enemies armie, it is conveniente to make some thyng to growe, that maie make theim afraied, either with showyng of newe helpe that commeth, or with showyng thynges, whiche maie represente a terrour unto theim: after soche sorte, that the enemies begiled of that sight, maie be afraied, and being made afraied, thei maie easely bee overcome: the whiche waies minutio rufo used, and accilio glabrione consulls of rome. caius sulpitius also set a greate many of sackes upon mules, and other beastes unprofitable for the warre, but in soche wise ordained, that thei semed men of armes, and he commaunded, that thei should appere upon a hill, while he were a faightyng with the frenchemen, whereby grewe his victorie. the verie same did marius, when he foughte against the duchemen. then the fained assaultes availyng moche, whilest the faight continueth, it is conveniente, that the very assaultes in deede, dooe helpe moche: inespecially if at unwares in the middest of the faight, the enemie might bee assaulted behinde, or on the side: the whiche hardely maie be doen, if the countrie helpe thee not: for that when it is open, parte of thy men cannot bee hid, as is mete to bee doen in like enterprises: but in woddie or hille places, and for this apt for ambusshes parte of thy men maie be well hidden, to be able in a sodain, and contrary to thenemies opinion to assaut him, whiche thyng alwaies shall be occasion to give thee the victorie. it hath been sometyme of greate importaunce, whilest the faighte continueth, to sowe voices, whiche doe pronounce the capitaine of thenemies to be dedde, or to have overcome on the other side of the armie: the whiche many times to them that have used it, hath given the victorie. the chivalrie of the enemies maie bee easely troubled, either with sightes, or with rumours, not used: as creso did, whom put camelles againste the horses of the adversaries, and pirrus sette againste the romaine horsemen eliphantes, the sighte of whiche troubled and disordered them. in our time, the turke discomfited the sophi in persia, and the soldane in surria with no other, then with the noise of harkabuses, the whiche in soche wise, with their straunge rumours, disturbed the horses of those, that the turke mighte easely overcome them: the spaniardes to overcome the armie of amilcare, put in the firste fronte cartes full of towe drawen of oxen, and comming to handes, thei kindeled fire to thesame, wherfore the oxen to flie from the fire, thrust into the armie of amilcar, and opened it. thei are wonte (as we have saied) to begile the enemie in the faight, drawyng him into their ambusshes, where the countrie is commodious for the same purpose, but where it were open and large, many have used to make diches, and after have covered them lightly with bowes and yearth, and lefte certain spaces whole, to be able betnene those to retire: after, so sone as the faight hath been begunne, retiryng by those, and the enemie folowing them, hath fallen in the pittes. if in the faight there happen thee, any accident that maie feare thy souldiours, it is a moste prudente thyng, to knowe how to desemble it, and to pervert it to good, as tullo hostilio did, and lucius silla: whom seyng while thei fought, how a parte of his men wer gone to the enemies side, and how thesame thing had verie moche made afraied his men, he made straighte waie throughout all the armie to be understoode, how all thing proceded, accordyng to his order: the whiche not onely did not trouble the armie, but it increased in them so moche stomack, that he remained victorious. it happened also to silla, that havyng sente certaine souldiours to doe some businesse, and thei beyng slain he saied, to the intent his armie should not be made afraied thereby, that he had with crafte sent theim into the handes of the enemies, for that he had found them nothyng faithfull. sertorius faightyng a battaile in spaine, slue one, whom signified unto hym the death of one of his capitaines, for feare that tellyng the very same to other, he should make theim afraied. it is a moste difficult thyng, an armie beyng now moved to flie, to staie it, and make it to faight. and you have to make this distinccion: either that it is all moved, and then to be impossible to tourne it, or there is moved a parte thereof, and then there is some remedie. many romain capitaines, with making afore those whiche fled, have caused them to staie, making them ashamed of running awaie, as lucius silla did, where alredy parte of his legions beyng tourned to flight, driven awaie by the men of mithridates, he made afore them with a swearde in his hande criyng: if any aske you, where you left your capitaine, saie, we have left hym in boecia, where he faighteth. attillius a consull set againste that ran awaie, them that ranne not awaie, and made them to understande, that if thei would not tourne, thei should be slaine of their frendes, and of their enemies. philip of macedonia understanding how his men feared the scithian souldiours, placed behinde his armie, certaine of his moste trustie horsemen, and gave commission to theim, that thei should kill whom so ever fledde: wherfore, his men mindyng rather to die faightyng, then fliyng, overcame. many romaines, not so moche to staie a flight, as for to give occasion to their men, to make greater force, have whileste thei have foughte, taken an ansigne out of their owne mennes handes, and throwen it emongeste the enemies, and appoincted rewardes to hym that could get it again. i doe not beleve that it is out of purpose, to joyne to this reasonyng those thynges, whiche chaunce after the faight, in especially beyng brief thinges, and not to be left behinde, and to this reasonyng conformable inough. therefore i saie, how the fielde is loste, or els wonne: when it is wonne, the victorie ought with all celeritie to be folowed, and in this case to imitate cesar, and not aniball, whom staiyng after that he had discomfited the romaines at canne, loste the empire of rome: the other never rested after the victorie, but folowed the enemie beyng broken, with greater violence and furie, then when he assalted hym whole: but when a capitaine dooeth loese, he ought to see, if of the losse there maie growe any utilite unto hym, inespecially if there remain any residue of tharmie. the commoditie maie growe of the small advertisment of the enemie, whom moste often times after the victorie, becometh negligent, and giveth thee occasion to oppresse hym, as marcius a romaine oppressed the armie of the carthaginers, whom having slain the twoo scipions, and broken their armie, not estemyng thesame remnaunt of menne, whiche with marcius remained a live, were of hym assaulted and overthrowen: for that it is seen, that there is no thing so moche to bee brought to passe, as thesame, whiche the enemie thinketh, that thou canst not attempte: bicause for the moste parte, men bee hurte moste, where thei doubt leaste: therefore a capitain ought when he cannot doe this, to devise at least with diligence, that the losse bee lesse hurtfull, to dooe this, it is necessarie for thee to use meanes, that the enemie maie not easely folowe thee, or to give him occasion to make delaie: in the first case, some after thei have been sure to lese, have taken order with their heddes, that in divers partes, and by divers waies thei should flie, havyng appoincted wher thei should after assemble together: the which made, that thenemie (fearing to devide the armie) was faine to let go safe either all, or the greatest part of them. in the seconde case, many have cast before the enemie, their dearest thinges, to the entent that he tariyng about the spoile, might give them more laisure to flie. titus dimius used no small policie to hide the losse, whiche he had received in the faight, for asmoche as havyng fought untill night, with great losse of his menne, he made in the night to be buried, the greatest part of them, wherefore in the mornyng, the enemies seyng so many slaine of theirs, and so fewe of the romaines, belevyng that thei had the disavauntage, ran awaie. i trust i have thus confusedly, as i saied, satisfied in good part your demaunde: in dede about the facions of the armies, there resteth me to tell you, how some tyme, by some capitaines, it hath been used to make theim with the fronte, like unto a wedge, judgyng to bee able by soche meane, more easely to open the enemies armie. against this facion, thei have used to make a facion like unto a paire of sheres, to be able betwene thesame voide place, to receive that wedge, and to compasse it about, and to faight with it on every side: whereupon i will that you take this generall rule, that the greatest remedie that is used againste a devise of the enemie, is to dooe willingly thesame, whiche he hath devised that thou shalt dooe perforce: bicause that doyng it willingly, thou doest it with order, and with thy advauntage, and his disadvauntage, if thou shouldest doe it beyng inforced, it should be thy undoyng: for the provyng whereof, i care not to reherse unto you, certain thynges alredy tolde. the adversary maketh the wedge to open thy bandes: if thou gowest with them open, thou disorderest hym, and he disordereth not thee. aniball set the elephantes in the fronte of his armie, to open with theim the armie of scipio. scipio went with it open, and it was the occasion of his victorie, and of the ruine of hym. asdruball placed his strongest men in the middest of the fronte of his armie, to overthrowe scipios menne: scipio commaunded, that by them selves thei should retire and he broke theim: so that like devises when thei are foreseen, bee the causes of the victorie of him, against whom thei be prepared. there remaineth me also, if i remember my self well, to tell you what respectes a capitaine ought to have, before he leade his men to faight: upon whiche i have to tell you firste, how a capitaine ought never to faight a battaile, except he have advauntage, or be constrained. the vantage groweth of the situacion, of the order, of havyng more, or better menne: the necessitie groweth when thou seest how that not faightyng, thou muste in any wise lose, as should bee for lackyng of money, and for this, thy armie to bee ready all maner of waies to resolve, where famishemente is ready to assaulte thee, where the enemie looketh to bee ingrosed with newe men: in these cases, thou oughtest alwaies to faight, although with thy disadvauntage: for that it is moche better to attempte fortune, where she maie favour thee, then not attemptyng, to see thy certaine ruine: and it is as grevous a faulte in this case, in a capitain not to faight, as to have had occasion to overcome, and not to have either knowen it through ignoraunce, or lefte it through vilenesse. the advauntages some tymes the enemie giveth thee, and some tymes thy prudence: many in passyng rivers have been broken of their enemie, that hath been aware thereof, whom hath taried, till the one halfe hath been of the one side, and the other halfe on the other, and then hath assaulted them: as cesar did to the suizzers, where he destroied the fowerth parte of theim, through beyng halfe over a river. some tyme thy enemie is founde wearie, for havyng folowed thee to undescritely, so that findyng thy self freshe and lustie, thou oughtest not to let passe soche an occasion: besides this, if the enemie offer unto thee in the mornyng betymes to faight, thou maiest a good while deferre to issue out of thy lodgyng, and when he hath stoode long in armour, and that he hath loste that same firste heate, with the whiche he came, thou maiest then faight with him. this waie scipio and metellus used in spaine: the one against asdruball, the other against sertorius. if the enemie be deminished of power, either for havyng devided the armie, as the scipions in spain, or for some other occasion, thou oughteste to prove chaunce. the greateste parte of prudent capitaines, rather receive the violence of the enemies, then go with violence to assalte them: for that the furie is easely withstoode of sure and steddie menne, and the furie beyng sustained, converteth lightly into vilenesse: thus fabius did againste the sannites, and against the galles, and was victorious and his felowe decius remained slain. some fearing the power of their enemies, have begun the faight a little before night, to the intent that their men chaunsyng to bee overcome, might then by the helpe of the darkenesse thereof, save theim selves. some havyng knowen, how the enemies armie beyng taken of certaine supersticion, not to faight in soche a tyme, have chosen thesame tyme to faighte, and overcome: the whiche cesar observed in fraunce, againste arionistus, and vespasian in surrie, againste the jewes. the greatest and moste importaunte advertismente, that a capitaine ought to have, is to have aboute hym faithfull menne, that are wise and moste expert in the warre, with whom he must continually consulte and reason of his men, and of those of the enemies, whiche is the greater nomber, whiche is beste armed, or beste on horsebacke, or best exercised, whiche be moste apte to suffer necessitie, in whom he trusteth moste, either in the footemen, or in the horsemen: after thei ought to consider the place where thei be, and whether it be more to the purpose for thenemie, then for him: which of theim hath victualles moste commodious: whether it be good to deferre the battaile, or to faight it: what good might bee given hym, or taken awaie by tyme: for that many tymes, souldiours seyng the warre to be delaied, are greved, and beyng wearie, in the pain and in the tediousnesse therof, wil forsake thee. it importeth above all thyng, to knowe the capitain of the enemies, and whom he hath aboute hym, whether he be rashe, or politike, whether he be fearfull, or hardie: to see how thou maiest truste upon the aidyng souldiours. and above all thyng thou oughtest to take hede, not to conducte the armie to faight when it feareth, or when in any wise it mistrusteth of the victorie: for that the greatest signe to lose, is thei beleve not to be able to winne: and therfore in this case, thou oughtest to avoide the faightyng of the fielde, either with doyng as fabius maximus, whom incampyng in strong places, gave no courage to aniball, to goe to finde hym, or when thou shouldest thinke, that the enemie also in strong places, would come to finde thee, to departe out of the fielde, and to devide the menne into thy tounes to thentent that tediousnesse of winnyng them, maie wearie hym. zanobi. cannot the faightyng of the battaile be otherwise avoided, then in devidyng the armie in sunderie partes and placyng the men in tounes? [sidenote: fabius maximus.] fabricio. i beleve that ones alreadie, with some of you i have reasoned, how that he, that is in the field, cannot avoide to faight the battaile, when he hath an enemie, which will faight with hym in any wise, and he hath not, but one remedie, and that is, to place him self with his armie distant fiftie miles at leaste, from his adversarie, to be able betymes to avoide him, when he should go to finde hym. for fabius maximus never avoided to faight the battaile with aniball, but he would have it with his advauntage: and aniball did not presume to bee able to overcome hym, goyng to finde hym in the places where he incamped: where if he had presupposed, to have been able to have overcome, it had been conveniente for fabius, to have fought the battaile with hym, or to have avoided. [sidenote: philip king of macedonia, overcome by the romaines; how cingentorige avoided the faightyng of the fielde with cesar; the ignorance of the venecians; what is to be doen wher soldiours desire to faight, contrary to their capitaines minde; how to incourage souldiers; an advertisment to make the soldiour most obstinately to faight.] philip kyng of macedonia, thesame that was father to perse, commyng to warre with the romaines, pitched his campe upon a verie high hill, to the entent not to faight with theim: but the romaines wente to find hym on thesame hill, and discomfaited hym. cingentorige capitain of the frenche menne, for that he would not faight the field with cesar, whom contrarie to his opinion, had passed a river, got awaie many miles with his men. the venecians in our tyme, if thei would not have come to have fought with the frenche kyng, thei ought not to have taried till the frenche armie, had passed the river addus, but to have gotten from them as cingentorige, where thei havyng taried knewe not how to take in the passyng of the men, the occasion to faight the battaile, nor to avoide it: for that the frenche men beyng nere unto them, as the venecians went out of their campe, assaulted theim, and discomfited theim: so it is, that the battaile cannot bee avoided, when the enemie in any wise will faight, nor let no man alledge fabius, for that so moche in thesame case, he did flie the daie of battaile, as aniball. it happeneth many tymes, that thy souldiours be willyng to faight, and thou knoweste by the nomber, and by the situacion, or for some other occasion to have disadvauntage, and desirest to make them chaunge from this desire: it happeneth also, that necessitie, or occasion, constraineth thee to faight, and that thy souldiours are evill to be trusted, and smally disposed to faight: where it is necessarie in thone case, to make theim afraied, and in the other to incourage theim: in the firste case, when perswacions suffiseth not, there is no better waie, then to give in praie, a part of them unto thenemie, to thintent those that have, and those that have not fought, maie beleve thee: and it may very wel be doen with art, thesame which to fabius maximus hapned by chaunce. tharmie of fabius (as you knowe) desired to faight with aniballs armie: the very same desire had the master of his horses: to fabius it semed not good, to attempte the faight: so that through soche contrary opinions, he was fain to devide the armie: fabius kept his men in the campe, the other fought, and commyng into great perill, had been overthrowen, if fabius had not rescued him: by the whiche insample the maister of the horse, together with all the armie, knewe how it was a wise waie to obeie fabius. concernyng to incourage theim to faight, it should be well doen, to make them to disdain the enemies, shewyng how thei speake slaunderous woordes of them, to declare to have intelligence with them, and to have corrupted part of them, to incampe in place, where thei maie see the enemies, and make some light skirmishe with them, for that the thyng that is dailie seen, with more facilitie is despised: to shewe theim to bee unworthie, and with an oracion for the purpose, to reprehende them of their cowardnesse, and for to make them ashamed, to tell theim that you will faight alone, when thei will not beare you companie. and you ought above all thyng to have this advertismente, mindyng to make the souldiour obstinate to faight, not to permitte, that thei maie send home any of their substaunce, or to leave it in any place, till the warre bee ended, that thei maie understande, that although fliyng save their life, yet it saveth not theim their goodes, the love whereof, is wonte no lesse then thesame, to make men obstinate in defence. zanobi. you have tolde, how the souldiours maie be tourned to faight, with speakyng to theim: doe you meane by this, that all the armie must bee spoken unto, or to the heddes thereof? [sidenote: it is requisite for excellent capitaines to bee good orators; alexander magnus used openly to perswade his armie; the effecteousnes of speking; souldiours ought to be accustomed to heare their capitaine speake; how in olde time souldiers were threatened for their faltes; enterprises maie the easelier be brought to passe by meanes of religion; sertorius; a policie of silla; a policie of charles the seventh king of fraunce against the englishmen; how souldiers maiebee made to esteme little their enemies; the surest wai to make souldiours moste obstinat to faight; by what meanes obstinatenesse to faighte is increased.] fabricio. to perswade, or to diswade a thyng unto fewe, is verie easie, for that if woordes suffise not, you maie then use aucthoritie and force: but the difficultie is, to remove from a multitude an evill opinion, and that whiche is contrary either to the common profite, or to thy opinion, where cannot be used but woordes, the whiche is meete that thei be heard of every man, mindyng to perswade them all. wherfore, it was requisite that the excellente capitaines were oratours: for that without knowyng how to speake to al the army, with difficultie maie be wrought any good thing: the whiche altogether in this our tyme is laied aside. rede the life of alexander magnus, and you shall see how many tymes it was necessarie for hym to perswade, and to speake publikly to his armie: otherwise he should never have brought theim, beyng become riche, and full of spoile, through the desertes of arabia, and into india with so moche his disease, and trouble: for that infinite tymes there growe thynges, wherby an armie ruinateth, when the capitain either knoweth not, or useth not to speake unto thesame, for that this speakyng taketh awaie feare, in courageth the mindes, increaseth the obstinatenes to faight, discovereth the deceiptes, promiseth rewardes, sheweth the perilles, and the waie to avoide theim, reprehendeth, praieth, threatened, filleth full of hope, praise, shame, and doeth a those thynges, by the whiche the humaine passions are extincte or kendled: wherefore, that prince, or common weale, whiche should appoincte to make a newe power, and cause reputacion to their armie, ought to accustome the souldiours thereof, to heare the capitain to speake, and the capitain to know how to speake unto them. in kepyng desposed the souldiours in old tyme, to faight for their countrie, the religion availed moche, and the othes whiche thei gave them, when thei led theim to warfare: for as moche as in al their faultes, thei threatned them not onely with those punishementes, whiche might be feared of men but with those whiche of god might be looked for: the whiche thyng mingled with the other religious maners, made many tymes easie to the auncient capitaines all enterprises, and will doe alwaies, where religion shall be feared, and observed. sertorius prevailed, by declaryng that he spake with a stagge, the whiche in goddes parte, promised hym the victorie. silla saied, he spoke with an image, whiche he had taken out of the temple of apollo. many have tolde how god hath appered unto them in their slepe, whom hath admonished them to faight. in our fathers time, charles the seventh kyng of fraunce, in the warre whiche he made againste the englishemen, saied, he counsailed with a maide, sent from god, who was called every where the damosell of fraunce, the which was occacion of his victorie. there maie be also used meanes, that maie make thy men to esteme little the enemie, as agesilao a spartaine used, whom shewed to his souldiours, certain persians naked, to the intent that seyng their delicate members, thei should not have cause to feare them. some have constrained their men to faight through necessitie, takyng awaie from them all hope of savyng theim selves, savyng in overcommyng. the whiche is the strongest, and the beste provision that is made, to purpose to make the souldiour obstinate to faight: whiche obstinatenesse is increased by the confidence, and love of the capitaine, or of the countrie. confidence is caused through the armour, the order the late victorie, and the opinion of the capitaine. the love of the countrie, is caused of nature: that of the capitain, through vertue, more then by any other benefite: the necessities maie be many, but that is strongest, whiche constraineth thee; either to overcome, or to dye. the fiveth booke [sidenote: how the romaines marched with their armies; how the romaines ordered their armie when it happened to be assaulted on the waie; how the main battailes ought to marche; the orderyng of an armie after soche sorte, that it maie marche safelie through the enemies countrie and be alwaies in a redines to faight; the place in the armie wher the bowmen and harkabutters are appoincted; the place in the armie wher thextraordinarie pikes are appoincted. the place in the armie wherthe generall capitain must be; where the artillerie must be placed. the light horsmenne must be sente before to discover the countrie and the menne of armes to come behind tharmy; a generall rule concernyng horse; wher the carriages and the unarmed are placed; the waie must be made plaine wher the armie shall marche in order; how many miles a day an armie maie marche in battaile raie, to bee able to incampe before sunne set; the orderyng of the armie, when it is assaulted on the vawarde; the orderyng of tharmie when thenemie commes to assaulte it behinde; how the armie is ordered when it is assaulted of any of the sides; doen when the army is assaulted on twoo sides.] fabricio. i have shewed you, how an armi, is ordained to faight a fielde with an other armie, which is seen pitched against it, and have declared unto you, howe the same is overcome, and after many circumstaunces, i have likewise shewed you, what divers chaunces, maie happen about thesame, so that me thinkes tyme to shewe you now, how an armie is ordered, againste thesame enemie, whiche otherwise is not seen, but continually feared, that he assaulte thee: this happeneth when an armie marcheth through the enemies countrie, or through suspected places. firste, you must understande, how a romaine armie, sent alwaies ordinarely afore, certaine bandes of horsemen, as spies of the waie: after followed the right horne, after this, came all the carriages, whiche to thesame apperteined, after this, came a legion, after it, the carriages therof, after that, an other legion, and next to it, their carriages, after whiche, came the left horne, with the carriages thereof at their backe, and in the laste part, folowed the remnaunte of the chivalrie: this was in effecte the maner, with whiche ordinarily thei marched: and if it happened that the armie were assaulted in the waie on the fronte, or on the backe, thei made straight waie all the carriages to bee drawen, either on the right, or on the lefte side, accordyng as chaunsed, or as thei could beste, havyng respecte to the situacion: and all the men together free from their impedimentes, made hedde on that parte, where the enemie came. if thei were assaulted on the flancke, thei drue the carriages towardes thesame parte that was safe, and of the other, thei made hedde. this waie beyng well and prudently governed, i have thought meete to imitate, sending afore the light horsemen, as exploratours of the countrie: then havyng fower maine battailes i would make them to marche in araie, and every one with their carriages folowyng theim. and for that there be twoo sortes of carriages, that is partainyng to particulare souldiours, and partainyng to the publike use of all the campe, i would devide the publike carriages into fower partes, and to every maine battaile, i would appoinct his parte, deviding also the artillerie into fower partes, and all the unarmed, so that every nomber of armed menne, should equally have their impedimentes. but bicause it happeneth some times, that thei marche through the countrie, not onely suspected, but so daungerous, that thou fearest every hower to be assaulted, thou art constrained for to go more sure, to chaunge the forme of marchyng, and to goe in soche wise prepared, that neither the countrie menne, nor any armie, maie hurte thee, findyng thee in any parte unprovided. in soche case, the aunciente capitaines were wont, to marche with the armie quadrante, whiche so thei called this forme, not for that it was altogether quadrante, but for that it was apte to faight of fower partes, and thei saied, that thei wente prepared, bothe for the waie, and for the faight: from whiche waie, i will not digresse, and i will ordaine my twoo maine battailes, whiche i have taken for to make an armie of, to this effect. mindyng therefore, to marche safely through the enemies countrie, and to bee able to aunswere hym on every side, when at unwares the armie might chaunce to be assaulted, and intendyng therefore, accordyng to the antiquitie, to bryng thesame into a square, i would devise to make a quadrant, that the rome therof should be of space on every part clix. yardes, in this maner. first i would put the flanckes, distant the one flanck from the other, clix. yardes, and i would place five battailes for a flancke, in a raie in length, and distant the one from the other, twoo yardes and a quarter: the whiche shall occupie with their spaces, every battaile occupiyng thirtie yardes, clix. yardes. then betwen the hedde and the taile of these two flanckes, i would place the other tenne battailes, in every parte five, orderyng them after soche sorte, that fower should joyne to the hedde of the right flanck, and fower to the taile of the lefte flancke, leaving betwene every one of them, a distance of thre yardes: one should after joyne to the hedde of the lefte flancke, and one to the taile of the right flancke: and for that the space that is betwene the one flancke and the other, is clix. yardes, and these battailes whiche are set the one to the side of the other by breadth, and not by length, will come to occupie with the distaunces one hundred yardes and a halfe yarde, there shall come betwene theim fower battailes, placed in the fronte on the right flancke, and the one placed in thesame on the lefte, to remaine a space of fiftie and eighte yardes and a halfe, and the verie same space will come to remaine in the battailes, placed in the hinder parte: nor there shall bee no difference, saving that the one space shall come on the parte behind towardes the right horne, and thother shall come on the parte afore, towardes the lefte home. in the space of the lviii. yardes and a halfe before, i would place all the ordinarie veliti, in thesame behinde, the extraordinarie, which wil come to be a thousande for a space, and mindyng to have the space that ought to be within the armie, to be every waie clix. yardes, it is mete that the five battailes, whiche are placed in the hedde, and those whiche are placed in the taile, occupie not any parte of the space, whiche the flanckes keepe: and therefore it shall be convenient, that the five battailes behinde, doe touche with the fronte, the taile of their flanckes, and those afore, with the taile to touche he hedde, after soche sorte, that upon every corner of the ame armie, there maie remaine a space, to receive an other battaile: and for that there bee fower spaces, i would take fower bandes of the extraordinarie pikes, and in every corner i would place one, and the twoo ansignes of the foresaied pikes, whiche shall remain overplus, i would sette in the middest of the rome of this armie, in a square battaile, on the hedde whereof, should stande the generall capitaine, with his menne about him. and for that these battailes ordeined thus, marche all one waie, but faight not all one waie, in puttyng them together, those sides ought to be ordained to faight, whiche are not defended of thother battailes. and therfore it ought to be considered, that the five battailes that be in the front, have all their other partes defended, excepte the fronte: and therfore these ought to bee put together in good order, and with the pikes afore. the five battailes whiche are behinde, have all their sides defended, except the parte behinde, and therefore those ought to bee put together in soche wise, that the pikes come behind, as in the place therof we shall shewe. the five battailes that bee in the right flancke, have all their sides defended, except the right flancke. the five that be on the left flanck, have all their partes defended, excepte the lefte flancke: and therefore in orderyng the battailes, thei ought to bee made, that the pikes maie tourne on the same flanck, that lieth open: and the peticapitaines to stand on the hedde, and on the taile, so that nedyng to faight, all the armour and weapons maie be in their due places, the waie to doe this, is declared where we reasoned of the maner of orderyng the battailes. the artillerie i would devide, and one parte i would place without, on the lefte flancke, and the other on the right. the light horsemen, i would sende afore to discover the countrie. of the menne of armes, i would place part behinde, on the right home, and parte on the lefte, distante about thirtie yardes from the battailes: and concerning horse, you have to take this for a general rule in every condicion, where you ordaine an armie, that alwaies thei ought to be put, either behinde, or on the flanckes of thesame: he that putteth them afore, over against the armie, it behoveth hym to doe one of these twoo thinges, either that he put them so moche afore, that beyng repulced, thei maie have so moche space, that maie give them tyme, to be able to go a side from thy footemen, and not to runne upon them, or to order them in soche wise, with so many spaces, that the horses by those maie enter betwene them, without disorderyng them. nor let no man esteme little this remembraunce, for as moche as many capitaines, whom havyng taken no hede thereof, have been ruinated, and by themselves have been disordered, and broken. the carriages and the unarmed menne are placed, in the rome that remaineth within the armie, and in soche sorte equally devided, that thei maie give the waie easely, to whom so ever would go, either from the one corner to the other, or from the one hedde, to the other of the armie. these battailes without the artillerie and the horse, occupie every waie from the utter side, twoo hundred and eleven yardes and a halfe of space: and bicause this quadrante is made of twoo main battailes, it is convenient to distinguishe, what part thone maine battaile maketh, and what the other: and for that the main battailes are called by the nomber, and every of theim hath (as you knowe) tenne battailes, and a generall hed, i would cause that the first main battaile, should set the first v. battailes therof in the front, the other five, in the left flanck, and the capitain of the same should stande in the left corner of the front. the seconde maine battaile, should then put the firste five battailes therof, in the right flanck, and the other five in the taile, and the hedde capitain of thesame, should stande in the right corner, whom should come to dooe the office of the tergiductor. the armie ordained in this maner, ought to be made to move, and in the marchyng, to observe all this order, and without doubte, it is sure from all the tumultes of the countrie men. nor the capitain ought not to make other provision, to the tumultuarie assaultes, then to give sometyme commission to some horse, or ansigne of veliti, that thei set themselves in order: nor it shall never happen that these tumultuous people, will come to finde thee at the drawyng of the swerd, or pikes poincte: for that men out of order, have feare of those that be in araie: and alwaies it shall bee seen, that with cries and rumours, thei will make a greate assaulte, without otherwise commyng nere unto thee, like unto barking curres aboute a mastie. aniball when he came to the hurte of the romaines into italie, he passed through all fraunce, and alwaies of the frenche tumultes, he took small regarde. mindyng to marche, it is conveniente to have plainers and labourers afore, whom maie make thee the waie plaine, whiche shall bee garded of those horsemen, that are sent afore to viewe the countrie: an armie in this order maie marche tenne mile the daie, and shall have tyme inough to incampe, and suppe before sunne goyng doune, for that ordinarely, an armie maie marche twentie mile: if it happen that thou be assaulted, of an armie set in order, this assaulte cannot growe sodainly: for that an armie in order, commeth with his pace, so that thou maiest have tyme inough, to set thy self in order to faight the field, and reduce thy menne quickly into thesame facion, or like to thesame facion of an armie, which afore is shewed thee. for that if thou be assaulted, on the parte afore, thou needeste not but to cause, that the artillerie that be on the flanckes, and the horse that be behinde, to come before, and place theimselves in those places, and with those distaunces, as afore is declared. the thousande veliti that bee before, must go out of their place, and be devided into ccccc. for a parte, and go into their place, betwene the horse and the hornes of tharmy: then in the voide place that thei shal leave, the twoo ansignes of the extraordinarie pikes muste entre, whiche i did set in the middest of the quadrante of the armie. the thousande veliti, whiche i placed behinde, must departe from thesame place, and devide them selves in the flanckes of the battailes, to the fortificacion of those: and by the open place that thei shal leave, all the carriages and unarmed menne must go out, and place themselves on the backe of the battaile. then the rome in the middeste beyng voided, and every man gone to his place: the five battailes, whiche i placed behinde on the armie, must make forward in the voide place, that is betwene the one and the other flanck, and marche towardes the battailes, that stand in the hedde, and three of theim, muste stande within thirtie yardes of those, with equall distances, betwene the one and the other, and the other twoo shal remain behinde, distaunte other thirtie yardes: the whiche facion maie bee ordained in a sodaine, and commeth almoste to bee like, unto the firste disposicion, whiche of tharmy afore we shewed. and though it come straighter in the fronte, it commeth grosser in the flanckes, whiche giveth it no lesse strength: but bicause the five battailes, that be in the taile, have the pikes on the hinder parte, for the occasion that before we have declared, it is necessarie to make theim to come on the parte afore, mindyng to have theim to make a backe to the front of tharmie: and therfore it behoveth either to make them to tourne battaile after battaile, as a whole body, or to make them quickly to enter betwen thorders of targettes, and conduct them afore, the whiche waie is more spedy, and of lesse disorder, then to make them to turn al together: and so thou oughtest to doe of all those, whiche remain behind in every condicion of assault, as i shal shewe you. if it appere that thenemie come on the part behinde, the first thyng that ought to bee dooen, is to cause that every man tourne his face where his backe stode, and straight waie tharmie cometh to have made of taile, hed, and of hed taile: then al those waies ought to be kept, in orderyng thesame fronte, as i tolde afore. if the enemie come to incounter the right flancke, the face of thy armie ought to bee made to tourne towardes thesame side: after, make all those thynges in fortificacion of thesame hedde, whiche above is saied, so that the horsemen, the veliti, and the artillerie, maie be in places conformable to the hed thereof: onely you have this difference, that in variyng the hed of those, which are transposed, some have to go more, and some lesse. in deede makyng hedde of the right flancke, the veliti ought to enter in the spaces, that bee betwene the horne of the armie, and those horse, whiche were nerest to the lefte flancke, in whose place ought to enter, the twoo ansignes of the extraordinarie pikes, placed in the middest: but firste the carriages and the unarmed, shall goe out by the open place, avoidyng the rome in the middest, and retiryng themselves behinde the lefte flancke, whiche shall come to bee then the taile of the armie: the other veliti that were placed in the taile, accordyng to the principall orderyng of the armie, in this case, shall not move: bicause the same place should not remaine open, whiche of taile shall come to be flancke: all other thyng ought to bee dooen, as in orderyng of the firste hedde is saied: this that is told about the makyng hed of the right flanck, must be understode to be told, havyng nede to make it of the left flanck: for that the very same order ought to bee observed. if the enemie should come grose, and in order to assaulte thee on twoo sides, those twoo sides, whiche he commeth to assaulte thee on, ought to bee made stronge with the other twoo sides, that are not assaulted, doublyng the orders in eche of theim, and devidyng for bothe partes the artillerie, the veliti, and the horse. if he come on three or on fower sides, it is necessarie that either thou or he lacke prudence: for that if thou shalt bee wise, thou wilte never putte thy self in place, that the enemie on three or fower sides, with a greate nomber of men, and in order, maie assault thee: for that mindyng, safely to hurte thee, it is requisit, that he be so great, that on every side, he maie assault thee, with as many men, as thou haste almoste in al thy army: and if thou be so unwise, that thou put thy self in the daunger and force of an enemie, whom hath three tymes more menne ordained then thou, if thou catche hurte, thou canste blame no man but thy self: if it happen not through thy faulte, but throughe some mischaunce, the hurt shall be without the shame, and it shal chaunce unto thee, as unto the scipions in spaine, and to asdruball in italie but if the enemie have not many more men then thou, and intende for to disorder thee, to assaulte thee on divers sides, it shal be his foolishnesse, and thy good fortune: for as moche as to doe so, it is convenient, that he become so thinne in soche wise, that then easely thou maiste overthrow one bande, and withstande an other, and in short time ruinate him: this maner of ordering an armie against an enemie, whiche is not seen, but whiche is feared, is a necessarie and a profitable thing, to accustome thy souldiours, to put themselves together, and to march with soche order, and in marchyng, to order theimselves to faight, accordyng to the first hedde, and after to retourne in the forme, that thei marched in, then to make hedde of the taile, after, of the flanckes, from these, to retourne into the first facion: the whiche exercises and uses bee necessarie, mindyng to have an armie, throughly instructed and practised: in whiche thyng the princes and the capitaines, ought to take paine. nor the discipline of warre is no other, then to knowe how to commaunde, and to execute these thynges. nor an instructed armie is no other, then an armie that is wel practised in these orders: nor it cannot be possible, that who so ever in this time, should use like disciplin shall ever bee broken. and if this quadrante forme whiche i have shewed you, is somewhat difficulte, soche difficultnesse is necessarie, takyng it for an exercise: for as moche as knowyng well, how to set theim selves in order, and to maintaine theim selves in the same, thei shall knowe after more easely, how to stand in those, whiche should not have so moche difficultie. zanobi. i beleve as you saie, that these orders bee verie necessarie, and i for my parte, knowe not what to adde or take from it: true it is, that i desire to know of you twoo thynges, the one, if when you will make of the taile, or of the flancke hedde, and would make them to tourne, whether this be commaunded by the voice, or with the sounde: thother, whether those that you sende afore, to make plain the waie, for the armie to marche, ought to be of the verie same souldiours of your battailes, or other vile menne appoincted, to like exercise. [sidenote: commaundementes of capitaines being not wel understoode, maie be the destruction of an armie; respect that is to be had in commaundementes made with the sounde of the trompet; in commaundmentes made with the voice, what respect is to be had; of pianars.] fabricio. your firste question importeth moche: for that many tymes the commaundementes of capitaines, beyng not well understoode, or evill interpreted, have disordered their armie: therfore the voices, with the whiche thei commaunde in perilles, ought to bee cleare, and nete. and if thou commaunde with the sounde, it is convenient to make, that betwene the one waie and the other, there be so moche difference, that the one cannot be chaunged for the other: and if thou commaundest with the voice, thou oughteste to take heede, that thou flie the general voices, and to use the particulares, and of the particulars, to flie those, whiche maie be interpreted sinisterly. many tymes the saiyng backe, backe, hath made to ruinate an armie; therfore this voice ought not to be used, but in steede therof to use, retire you. if you will make theim to tourne, for to chaunge the hedde, either to flanck, or to backe, use never to saie tourne you, but saie to the lefte, to the right, to the backe, to the front: thus all the other voices ought to be simple, and nete, as thrust on, march, stande stronge, forwarde, retourne you: and all those thynges, whiche maie bee dooen with the voice, thei doe, the other is dooen with the sounde. concernyng those menne, that must make the waies plaine for the armie to marche, whiche is your seconde question, i would cause my owne souldiours to dooe this office, as well bicause in the aunciente warfare thei did so, as also for that there should be in the armie, lesser nomber of unarmed men, and lesse impedimentes: and i would choose out of every battaile, thesame nomber that should nede, and i would make theim to take the instrumentes, meete to plaine the grounde withall, and their weapons to leave with those rankes, that should bee nereste them, who should carrie them, and the enemie commyng, thei shall have no other to doe, then to take them again, and to retourne into their araie. zanobi. who shall carrie thinstrumentes to make the waie plaine withall? fabricio. the cartes that are appoincted to carrie the like instrumentes. zanobi. i doubte whether you should ever brynge these our souldiours, to labour with shovell or mattocke, after soche sorte. [sidenote: the victualles that thantiquitie made provision of, for their armies.] fabricio. all these thynges shall bee reasoned in the place thereof, but now i will let alone this parte, and reason of the maner of the victualing of the armie: for that me thinketh, havyng so moche traivailed theim, it is tyme to refreshe them, and to comfort them with meate. you have to understande, that a prince ought to ordaine his armie, as expedite as is possible, and take from thesame all those thynges, whiche maie cause any trouble or burthen unto it, and make unto hym any enterprise difficulte. emongest those thynges that causeth moste difficultie, is to be constrained to keepe the armie provided of wine, and baked bread. the antiquitie cared not for wine, for that lackyng it, thei dranke water, mingeled with a little vinegre, to give it a taste: for whiche cause, emong the municions of victualles for the hoste, vineger was one, and not wine. thei baked not the breade in ovens, as thei use for citees, but thei provided the meale, and of thesame, every souldiour after his owne maner, satisfied hym self, havyng for condimente larde and baken, the whiche made the breade saverie, that thei made, and maintained theim strong, so that the provision of victualles for the armie, was meale, vineger, larde, and bacon, and for the horses barley. thei had ordinarely heardes of greate beastes and small, whiche folowed the armie, the whiche havyng no nede to bee carried, caused not moche impedimente. of this order there grewe, that an armie in old time, marched somtymes many daies through solitarie places, and difficulte, without sufferyng disease of victualles: for that thei lived of thyngs, whiche easely thei might convey after them. to the contrarie it happeneth in the armies, that are now a daies, whiche mindyng not to lacke wine, and to eate baked breade in thesame maner, as when thei are at home, whereof beyng not able to make provision long, thei remaine often tymes famished, or though thei be provided, it is dooen with disease, and with moste greate coste: therfore i would reduce my armie to this maner of living: and i would not that thei should eate other bread, then that, which by themselves thei should bake. concernyng wine, i would not prohibite the drinkyng thereof, nor yet the commyng of it into the armie, but i would not use indevour, nor any labour for to have it, and in the other provisions, i would governe my self altogether, like unto the antiquitie: the whiche thing, if you consider well, you shall see how moche difficultie is taken awaie, and how moche trouble and disease, an armie and a capitaine is avoided of, and how moche commoditie shall bee given, to what so ever enterprise is to bee dooen. zanobi. we have overcome thenemie in the field, marched afterward upon his countrie, reason would, that spoiles be made, tounes sacked, prisoners taken, therefore i would knowe how the antiquitie in these thynges, governed them selves. [sidenote: the occasions why the warres made nowe adaies, doe impoverishe the conquerors as well as the conquered; the order that the romaines toke, concerning the spoile and the booties that their souldiours gotte; an order that the antiquitie tooke, concernyng their soldiours wages.] fabricio. beholde, i will satisfie you. i beleve you have considered, for that once alredie with some of you i have reasoned, howe these present warres, impoverishe as well those lordes that overcome, as those that leese: for that if the one leese his estate, the other leeseth his money, and his movables: the whiche in olde time was not, for that the conquerour of the warre, waxed ritche. this groweth of keepyng no compte in these daies of the spoiles, as in olde tyme thei did, but thei leave it to the discreacion of the souldiours. this manner maketh twoo moste great disorders: the one, that whiche i have tolde: the other that the souldiour becometh more covetous to spoyle, and lesse observeth the orders: and manie times it hath been seen, howe the covetousnesse of the praye, hath made those to leese, whome were victorious. therefore the romaines whiche were princes of armies, provided to the one and to the other of these inconvenienses, ordainyng that all the spoyle should apertaine to the publicke, and that the publicke after should bestowe it, as shoulde be thought good: and therfore thei had in tharmie the questours, whom were as we would say, the chamberlaines, to whose charge all the spoyle and booties were committed: whereof the consull was served to geve the ordinarie pay to the souldiours, to succour the wounded, and the sicke, and for the other businesse of the armie. the consull might well, and he used it often, to graunte a spoyle to soldiours: but this grauntyng, made no disorder: for that the armie beyng broken all the pray was put in the middest, and distributed by hedde, accordyng to the qualitee of everie man: the which maner thei constituted, to thintente, that the soldiours should attend to overcome, and not to robbe: and the romaine legions overcame the enemies, and folowed them not, for that thei never departed from their orders: onely there folowed them, the horsemenne with those that were light armed, and if there were any other souldiours then those of the legions, they likewyse pursued the chase. where if the spoyle shoulde have ben his that gotte it, it had not ben possible nor reasonable, to have kepte the legions steddie, and to withstonde manie perils; hereby grewe therefore, that the common weale inritched, and every consull carried with his triumphe into the treasurie, muche treasure, whiche all was of booties and spoiles. an other thing the antiquetie did upon good consideration, that of the wages, whiche they gave to every souldiour, the thirde parte they woulde shoulde be laied up nexte to him, whome carried the ansigne of their bande, whiche never gave it them againe, before the warre was ended: this thei did, beyng moved of twoo reasons, the first was to thintente, that the souldiour should thrive by his wages, because the greatest parte of them beyng yonge men, and carelesse, the more thei have, so muche the more without neede thei spende, the other cause was, for that knowyng, that their movabelles were nexte to the ansigne, thei should be constrained to have more care thereof, and with more obstinatenesse to defende it: and this made them stronge and to holde together: all which thynges is necessarie to observe, purposinge to reduce the exercise of armes unto the intier perfection therof. zanobi. i beleeve that it is not possible, that to an armie that marcheth from place to place, there fal not perrilous accidentes, where the industerie of the capitaine is needefull, and the worthinesse of the souldiours, mindyng to avoyde them. therefore i woulde be glad, that you remembring any, would shew them. [sidenote: captaines mai incurre the daunger of ambusshes twoo maner of wayes; how to avoide the perill of ambusshes; howe ambusshes have ben perceived; howe the capitaine of the enemies ought to be esteemed; where men be in greatest perill; the description of the countrey where an army muste marche, is most requiset for a capitaine to have; a most profitable thyng it is for a capitayne to be secrete in all his affaires; an advertisment concernyng the marchyng of an armie; the marching of an armie ought to be ruled by the stroke of the drumme; the condicion of the enemie ought to be considered.] fabricio. i shall contente you with a good will, beyng inespetially necessarie, intendyng to make of this exercise a perfecte science. the capitaines ought above all other thynges, whileste thei marche with an armie, to take heede of ambusshes, wherein they incurre daunger twoo waies, either marchynge thou entrest into them, or thoroughe crafte of the enemie thou arte trained in before thou arte aware. in the first case, mindyng to avoide suche perill, it is necessarie to sende afore double warde, whome may discover the countrey, and so muche the more dilligence ought to be used, the more that the countrey is apte for ambusshes, as be the woddie or hilly countries, for that alwaies thei be layd either in a wodde, or behind a hille: and as the ambusshe not forseene, doeth ruin thee, so forseyng the same, it cannot hurte thee. manie tymes birdes or muche duste have discovered the enemie: for that alwayes where the enemie cometh to finde thee, he shall make great duste, whiche shall signifie unto thee his comyng: so often tymes a capitaine seyng in the places where he ought to passe, doves to rise, or other of those birdes that flie in flockes, and to tourne aboute and not to light, hath knowen by the same the ambusshe of the enemies to be there, and sendynge before his men, and sertainely understandyng it, hath saved him selfe and hurte his enemie. concernyng the seconde case, to be trained in, (which these our men cal to be drawen to the shot) thou ought to take heede, not straight way to beleve those thinges, which are nothyng reasonable, that thei be as they seeme: as shoulde be, if the enemie should set afore thee a praie, thou oughtest to beleeve that in the same is the hooke, and that therin is hid the deceipte. if many enemies be driven away by a fewe of thine, if a fewe enemies assaulte manie of thine, if the enemies make a sodeine flight, and not standynge with reason, alwaies thou oughtest in suche cases to feare deceipte, and oughtest never to beleeve that the enemie knoweth not how to doe his businesse, but rather intendyng that he may begile thee the lesse, and mindyng to stand in lesse peril, the weaker that he is, and the lesse craftier that the enemie is, so muche the more thou oughtest to esteeme him: and thou muste in this case use twoo sundrie poinctes, for that thou oughtest to feare him in thy minde and with the order, but with wordes, and with other outewarde demonstracion, to seeme to dispyse him: because this laste way, maketh that the souldiours hope the more to have the victorie: the other maketh thee more warie, and lesse apte to be begyled. and thou hast to understand, that when men marche thoroughe the enemies countrey, they ar in muche more, and greater perils, then in fayghtyng the fielde: and therefore the capitaine in marchyng, ought to use double diligence: and the first thyng that he ought to doo, is to get described, and payncted oute all the countrie, thorough the which he must marche, so that he maye know the places, the number, the distances, the waies, the hilles, the rivers, the fennes, and all the quallites of them: and to cause this to bee knowen, it is convenient to have with him diversly, and in sundrie maners such men, as know the places, and to aske them with diligence, and to se whether their talke agree, and accordyng to the agreyng therof, to note: he oughte also to sende afore the horsemen, and with them prudente heddes, not so muche to discover the enemie, as to viewe the countrey, to se whether it agree with the description, and with the knowledge that they have of the same. also the guydes that are sente, ought to be kepte with hope of rewarde, and feare of paine. and above all thynges it ought to be provided, that the armie knowe not to what businesse he leadeth them: for that there is nothyng in the warre more profitable, then to keepe secret the thynges that is to be dooen: and to thintente a suddeine assaulte dooe not trouble thy soldiours, thou oughteste to see them to stande reddie with their weapons, because the thynges that ar provided for, offend lesse. manie for to avoyde the confusion of marchyng, have placed under the standerde, the carriages, and the unarmed, and have commaunded them to folow the same, to the intente that in marchyng needyng to staye, or to retire, they might dooe it more easely, which thyng as profitable, i alowe very muche. also in marchyng, advertismente ought to be had, that the one parte of the armie goe not a sunder from the other, or that thoroughe some goyng fast, and some softe, the armie become not slender: the whiche thynges, be occation of dissorder: therfore the heddes muste be placed in suche wise, that they may maintaine the pace even, causing to goe softe those that goe to fast, and to haste forward the other that goe to sloe, the whiche pace can not bee better ruled, then by the stroke of the drumme. the waies ought to be caused to be inlarged, so that alwaies at least a bande of iiii. hundred men may marche in order of battaile. the custome and the qualitie of the enemie ought to be considered, and whether that he wil assaulte thee either in the mornyng, or at none or in the evenynge, and whether he be more puisante with fotemen or horsemen, and accordyng as thou understandest, to ordeine and to provide for thy self. but let us come to some particular accidente. it hapneth sometime, that thou gettyng from the enemie, because thou judgest thy selfe inferiour, and therfore mindynge not to faight with him, and he comyng at thy backe, thou arivest at the banke of a river, passyng over the which, asketh time, so that the enemie is redie to overtake thee and to fayght with thee. some, which chaunsing to bee in suche perill, have inclosed their armie on the hinder parte with a diche, and fillyng the same full of towe, and firyng it, have then passed with the armie without beyng able to be letted of the enemie, he beyng by the same fire that was betwene them held backe. [sidenote: annone of carthage.] zanobi. i am harde of beliefe, that this fyre coulde stay theim, in especially because i remember that i have harde, howe annone of carthage, beyng besieged of enemies, inclosed him selfe on the same parte, with wodde, which he did set on fire where he purposed to make eruption. wherfore the enemies beyng not intentive on the same parte to looke to him, he made his armie to passe over the same flame, causing every man to holde his target before his face for to defend them from the fire, and smoke. [sidenote: nabide a spartayne; quintus luttatius pollecie to passe over a river; how to passe a ryver without a bridge; a polecie of cesar to passe a river, where his enemie beyng on the other side therof sought to lette hym.] fabricio. you saye well: but consider you howe i have saied, and howe annone did: for as muche as i saied that they made a diche, and filled it with towe, so that he, that woulde passe over the same, should be constrained to contende with the diche and with fire: annone made the fire, without the diche, and because he intended to passe over it, he made it not great, for that otherwise without the diche, it shoulde have letted him. dooe you not knowe, that nabide a spartan beyng besieged in sparta of the romaines, set fire on parte of his towne to let the way to the romaines, who alredie wer entred in? and by meane of the same flame not onely hindered their way, but drave them oute: but let us turne to our matter. quintus luttatius a romaine, havyng at his backe the cimbri, and commyng to a river, to thentente the enemie should give him time to passe over, semed to geve time to them to faight with him: and therfore he fained that he would lodge there, and caused trenches to be made, and certaine pavilions to be erected, and sent certayne horsemen into the countrie for forredge: so that the cimbrise beleevyng, that he incamped, they also incamped, and devided them selves into sundrie partes, to provide for victuals, wherof luttatius being aware, passed the river they beyng not able to let him. some for to passe a river havynge no bridge, have devided it, and one parte they have turned behynde their backes, and the other then becomynge shalower, with ease they have passed it: when the rivers be swift, purposyng to have their footemen to passe safely, they place their strongest horses on the higher side, that thei may sustain the water, and an other parte be lowe that may succour the men, if any of the river in passyng should be overcome with the water: they passe also rivers, that be verie deepe, with bridges, with botes, and with barrelles: and therfore it is good to have in a redinesse in an armie wherewith to be able to make all these thynges. it fortuneth sometime that in passyng a river, the enemie standynge agaynst thee on the other banke, doeth let thee: to minde to overcome this difficultie, i know not a better insample to folow, then the same of cesar, whome havynge his armie on the banke of a river in fraunce, and his passage beynge letted of vergintorige a frenche man, the whiche on the other side of the river had his men, marched many daies a longe the river, and the like did the enemie: wherfore cesar incamping in a woddie place, apte to hide men, he tooke out of every legion three cohortes, and made them to tarie in the same place, commaundynge theim that so soone as he was departed, they shoulde caste over a bridge, and should fortefie it, and he with his other menne folowed on the waye: wherfore vergintorige seyng the number of the legions, thinkyng that there was not left anie parte of theim behinde, folowed also his way: but cesar when he supposed that the bridge was made, tourned backewarde, and findynge all thinges in order, passed the river without difficultee. zanobi. have ye any rule to know the foordes? [sidenote: how to know the foordes of a river.] fabricio. yea, we have: alwaies the river, in that parte, whiche is betwene the water, that is stilleste, and the water that runneth fastest, there is least depth and it is a place more meete to be looked on, then any other where. for that alwaies in thesame place, the river is moste shallowest. the whiche thyng, bicause it hath been proved many tymes, is moste true. zanobi. if it chaunce that the river hath marde the foorde, so that the horses sincke, what reamedy have you? [sidenote: howe to escape oute of a straight where the same is besette with enemies; howe lutius minutius escaped out of a strayght wherin he was inclosed of his enemies; howe some capitaynes have suffered them selves to be compassed aboute of their enemies; a polecie of marcus antonius; a defence for the shotte of arrowes.] fabricio. the remedie is to make hardels of roddes whiche must be placed in the bottome of the river, and so to passe upon those: but let us folowe our reasonyng. if it happen that a capitain be led with his armie, betwen two hilles, and that he have not but twoo waies to save hymself, either that before, or that behinde, and those beyng beset of thenemies, he hath for remidie to doe the same, which some have doen heretofore: that which have made on their hinder parte a greate trenche, difficult to passe over, and semed to the enemie, to mynde to kepe him of, for to be able with al his power, without neding to feare behinde, to make force that waie, whiche before remaineth open. the whiche the enemies belevyng, have made theim selves stronge, towardes the open parte, and have forsaken the inclosed and he then castyng a bridge of woode over the trenche, for soche an effect prepared, bothe on thesame parte, with out any impedimente hath passed, and also delivered hymself out of the handes of the enemie. lucius minutus a consul of rome, was in liguria with an armie, and was of the enemies inclosed, betwene certaine hilles, whereby he could not go out: therefore he sente certaine souldiours of numidia on horsebacke, whiche he had in his armie (whom were evill armed, and upon little leane horses) towardes the places that were kepte of the enemies, whom at the first sight made the enemies, to order theim selves together, to defende the passage: but after that thei sawe those men ill apoincted, and accordyng to their facion evill horsed, regardyng theim little, enlarged the orders of their warde, wherof so sone as the numidians wer a ware, givyng the spurres to their horses, and runnyng violently upon theim, passed before thei could provide any remedy, whom beyng passed, destroied and spoiled the countrie after soche sorte, that thei constrained the enemies, to leave the passage free to the armie of lucius. some capitaine, whiche hath perceived hymself to be assaulted of a greate multitude of enemies, hath drawen together his men, and hath given to the enemie commoditie, to compasse hym all about, and then on thesame part, whiche he hath perceived to be moste weake, hath made force, and by thesame waie, hath caused to make waie, and saved hymself. marcus antonius retiryng before the armie of the parthians, perceived how the enemies every daie before sunne risyng, when he removed, assaulted him, and all the waie troubled hym: in so moch, that he determined not to departe the nexte daie, before none: so that the parthians beleving, that he would not remove that daie, retourned to their tentes. whereby marcus antonius might then all the reste of the daie, marche without any disquietnesse. this self same man for to avoide the arrowes of the parthians, commaunded his men, that when the parthians came towardes them, thei should knele, and that the second ranke of the battailes, should cover with their targaettes, the heddes of the firste, the thirde, the seconde, the fowerth the third, and so successively, that all the armie came, to be as it were under a pentehouse, and defended from the shotte of the enemies. this is as moche as is come into my remembraunce, to tell you, which maie happen unto an armie marchyng: therefore, if you remember not any thyng els, i will passe to an other parte. the sixthe booke zanobi. i beleve that it is good, seyng the reasonyng must be chaunged, that baptiste take his office, and i to resigne myne, and wee shall come in this case, to imitate the good capitaines (accordyng as i have nowe here understoode of the gentilman) who place the beste souldiours, before and behinde the armie, semyng unto theim necessarie to have before, soche as maie lustely beginne the faight, and soche as behinde maie lustely sustaine it. now seyng cosimus began this reasonyng prudently, baptiste prudently shall ende it. as for luigi and i, have in this middeste intertained it, and as every one of us hath taken his part willingly, so i beleve not, that baptiste wil refuse it. baptiste. i have let my self been governed hetherto, so i minde to doe still. therfore be contente sir, to folowe your reasonyng, and if we interrupte you with this practise of ours, have us excused. [sidenote: how the grekes incamped; howe the romaines incamped; the maner of the incamping of an armie; the lodging for the generall capitaine.] fabricio. you dooe me, as all readie i have saied, a moste greate pleasure; for this your interrupting me, taketh not awaie my fantasie, but rather refresheth me. but mindyng to followe our matter i saie, how that it is now tyme, that we lodge this our armie, for that you knowe every thyng desireth reste and saftie, bicause to reste, and not to reste safely, is no perfecte reste: i doubte moche, whether it hath not been desired of you, that i should firste have lodged them, after made theim to marche, and laste of all to faight, and we have doen the contrary: whereunto necessitie hath brought us, for that intendyng to shewe, how an armie in going, is reduced from the forme of marching, to thesame maner of faightyng, it was necessarie to have firste shewed, how thei ordered it to faight. but tournyng to our matter, i saie, that minding to have the campe sure, it is requisite that it be strong, and in good order: the industrie of the capitaine, maketh it in order, the situacion, or the arte, maketh it stronge. the grekes sought strong situacions, nor thei would never place theim selves, where had not been either cave, or bancke of a river, or multitude of trees, or other naturall fortificacion, that might defende theim: but the romaines not so moche incamped safe through the situacion, as through arte, nor thei would never incampe in place, where thei should not have been able to have raunged all their bandes of menne, accordyng to their discipline. hereby grewe, that the romaines might kepe alwaies one forme of incamping, for that thei would, that the situacion should bee ruled by them, not thei by the situacion: the which the grekes could not observe, for that beyng ruled by the situacion, and variyng the situacion and forme, it was conveniente, that also thei should varie the maner of incampyng, and the facion of their lodgynges. therefore the romaines, where the situacion lacked strength thei supplied thesame with arte, and with industrie. and for that i in this my declaracion, have willed to imitate the romaines, i will not departe from the maner of their incamping, yet not observyng altogether their order, but takyng thesame parte, whiche semeth unto me, to be mete for this present tyme. i have told you many tymes, how the romaines had in their consull armies, twoo legions of romaine men, whiche were aboute a leven thousande footemen, and sixe hundred horsemen, and moreover thei had an other leven thousande footemen, sente from their frendes in their aide: nor in their armie thei had never more souldiers that were straungers, then romaines, excepte horsemenne, whom thei cared not, though thei were more in nomber then theirs: and in all their doynges, thei did place their legions in the middeste, and the aiders, on the sides: the whiche maner, thei observed also in incampyng, as by your self you maie rede, in those aucthoures, that write of their actes: and therefore i purpose not to shewe you distinctly how thei incamped, but to tell you onely with what order, i at this presente would incampe my armie, whereby you shall then knowe, what parte i have taken out of the romaine maners. you knowe, that in stede of twoo romaine legions, i have taken twoo maine battailes of footemen, of sixe thousande footemen, and three hundred horsemen, profitable for a maine battaile, and into what battailes, into what weapons, into what names i have devided theim: you knowe howe in orderyng tharmie to marche, and to faight, i have not made mencion of other men, but onely have shewed, how that doublyng the men, thei neded not but to double the orders: but mindyng at this presente, to shew you the maner of incampyng, me thinketh good not to stande onely with twoo maine battailes, but to bryng together a juste armie, made like unto the romaines, of twoo maine battailes, and of as many more aidyng men: the whiche i make, to the intent that the forme of the incampyng, maie be the more perfect, by lodgyng a perfecte armie: whiche thyng in the other demonstracions, hath not semed unto me so necessarie. purposing then, to incampe a juste armie, of xxiiii. thousande footemen, and of twoo thousande good horsemenne, beeyng devided into fower maine battailes, twoo of our owne menne, and twoo of straungers, i would take this waie. the situacion beyng founde, where i would incampe, i would erecte the hed standarde, and aboute it, i would marke out a quadrant, whiche should have every side distante from it xxxvii. yardes and a half, of whiche every one of them should lye, towardes one of the fower regions of heaven, as easte, weste, southe, and northe: betwene the whiche space, i would that the capitaines lodgyng should be appoincted. and bicause i beleve that it is wisedom, to devide the armed from the unarmed, seyng that so, for the moste parte the romaines did, i would therefore seperate the menne, that were cumbered with any thing, from the uncombered. i would lodge all, or the greatest parte of the armed, on the side towardes the easte, and the unarmed, and the cumbred, on the weste side, makyng easte the hedde, and weste the backe of the campe, and southe, and northe should be the flanckes: and for to distinguishe the lodgynges of the armed, i would take this waie. i would drawe a line from the hedde standarde, and lead it towardes the easte, the space of ccccc.x. yardes and a half: i would after, make two other lines, that should place in the middeste the same, and should bee as longe as that, but distante eche of theim from it a leven yardes and a quarter: in the ende whereof, i would have the easte gate, and the space that is betwene the twoo uttermoste lines, should make a waie, that should go from the gate, to the capitaines lodging, whiche shall come to be xxii. yardes and a halfe broad, and cccclxxii. yardes and a halfe longe, for the xxxvii. yardes and a halfe, the lodgyng of the capitaine will take up: and this shall bee called the capitaine waie. then there shall be made an other waie, from the southe gate, to the northe gate, and shall passe by the hedde of the capitaine waie, and leave the capitaines lodgyng towardes theaste, whiche waie shalbe ix.c.xxxvii. yardes and a halfe long (for the length therof wilbe as moche as the breadth of all the lodgynges) and shall likewise be xxii. yardes and a half broad, and shalbe called the crosse waie. then so sone as the capitaines lodgyng, were appoincted out, and these twoo waies, there shall bee begun to be appoincted out, the lodginges of our own two main battailes, one of the whiche, i would lodge on the right hand of the capitaines waie, and the other, on the lefte: and therefore passing over the space, that the breadth of the crosse waie taketh, i would place xxxii. lodgynges, on the lefte side of the capitain waie, and xxxii. on the right side, leavyng betwene the xvi. and the xvii. lodgyng, a space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, the whiche should serve for a waie overthwart, whiche should runne overthwarte, throughout all the lodgynges of the maine battailes as in the distributyng of them shall bee seen. [sidenote: the lodgings for the men of armes, and their capitaine; note, which is breadth and whiche length in the square campe; the lodgings for the lighte horsemen, and their capitain; the lodgings for the footemen of twoo ordinary main battailes; the lodgings for the conestables; the nomber of footemen appoincted to every lodging; the lodynges for the chiefe capitaines of the maine battayles and for the treasurers, marshals and straungers; lodginges for the horsemen, of the extraordinarie mayne battailes; the lodgynges for the extraordinarie pykes and veliti; how the artillerie must be placed in the campe; lodgynges for the unarmed men, and the places that are apoineted for the impedimentes of the campe.] of these twoo orders of lodgynges in the beginnyng of the head, whiche shall come to joygne to the crosse waye, i would lodge the capitaine of the men of armes, in the xv. lodgynges, which on everie side foloweth next, their men of armes, where eche main battaile, havyng a cl. men of armes, it will come to ten men of armes for a lodgyng. the spaces of the capitaines lodgynges, should be in bredth xxx. and in length vii. yardes and a halfe. and note that when so ever i sai bredeth, it signifieth the space of the middest from southe to northe, and saiyng length, that whiche is from weste to easte. those of the men of armes, shoulde be xi. yardes and a quarter in length, and xxii. yardes and a halfe in bredeth. in the other xv. lodgynges, that on everie syde should folowe, the whiche should have their beginnyng on the other side of the overthwarte way, and whiche shall have the very same space, that those of the men of armes had, i woulde lodge the light horsemen: wherof beynge a hundred and fiftie, it will come to x. horsemen for a lodgyng, and in the xvi. that remaineth, i woulde lodge their capitaine, gevynge him the verie same space, that is geven to the capitain of the men of armes: and thus the lodginges of the horsemen of two maine battailes, will come to place in the middest the capitaine way, and geve rule to the lodginges of the footemen, as i shall declare. you have noted how i have lodged the ccc. horsemen of everie main battaile with their capitaines, in xxxii. lodgynges placed on the captaine waie, havynge begun from the crosse waie, and how from the xvi. to the xvii. there remaineth a space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, to make awaie overthwarte. mindyng therefore to lodge the xx. battailes, which the twoo ordinarie maine battailes have, i woulde place the lodgyng of everie twoo battailes, behinde the lodgynges of the horsemen, everie one of whiche, should have in length xi. yardes and a quarter, and in bredeth xxii. yardes and a half as those of the horsemens, and shoulde bee joigned on the hinder parte, that thei shoulde touche the one the other. and in every first lodgyng on everie side which cometh to lie on the crosse waie, i woulde lodge the counstable of a battaile, whiche should come to stand even with the lodgyng of the capitayne of the men of armes, and this lodgyng shall have onely of space for bredeth xv. yardes, and for length vii. yardes and a halfe. in the other xv. lodgynges, that on everie side followeth after these, even unto the overthwarte way, i would lodge on everie part a battaile of foote men, whiche beyng iiii. hundred and fiftie, there will come to a lodgyng xxx. the other xv. lodgynges, i woulde place continually on every side on those of the light horse men, with the verie same spaces, where i woulde lodge on everie part, an other battaile of fote men, and in the laste lodgyng, i would place on every parte the conestable of the battaile, whiche will come to joigne with the same of the capitaine of the lighte horsemen, with the space of vii. yardes and a halfe for length, and xv. for bredeth: and so these two firste orders of lodgynges, shal be halfe of horsemen, and halfe of footemen. and for that i woulde (as in the place therof i have tolde you) these horse menne shoulde be all profitable, and for this havynge no servauntes whiche in kepyng the horses, or in other necessarie thynges might helpe them, i woulde that these footemen, who lodge behynde the horse, should bee bounde to helpe to provide, and to keepe theim for their maisters: and for this to bee exempted from the other doynges of the campe. the whiche maner, was observed of the romanies. then leavyng after these lodgynges on everie parte, a space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, whiche shoulde make awaye, that shoulde be called the one, the firste waye on the righte hande, and the other the firste waie on the lefte hand, i woulde pitche on everie side an other order of xxxii. double lodgynges, whiche should tourne their hinder partes the one againste the other with the verie same spaces, as those that i have tolde you of, and devided after the sixtenth in the verie same maner for to make the overthwarte waie, where i would lodge on every side iiii. battailes of footemen, with their constables in bothe endes. then leavyng on every side an other space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, that shoulde make a waie, whiche shoulde be called of the one side, the seconde waie on the right hande, and on the other syde, the seconde way on the lefte hande, i would place an other order on everie side of xxxii. double lodgynges, with the verie same distance and devisions, where i would lodge on everie side, other iiii. battailes with their constables: and thus the horesemenne and the bandes of the twoo ordinarie maine battailes, should come to be lodged in three orders of lodgynges, on the one side of the capitaine waie, and in three other orders of lodgynges on the other side of the capitaine waie. the twoo aidyng maine battels (for that i cause them to be made of the verie same nation) i woulde lodge them on everie parte of these twoo ordinarie maine battailes, with the very same orders of double lodgynges, pitchyng first one order of lodgynges, where should lodge halfe the horsemen, and half the foote men, distance xxii. yardes and a halfe from the other, for to make a way whiche should be called the one, the thirde waie on the right hande, and the other the thirde waie on the lefte hande. and after, i woulde make on everie side, twoo other orders of lodgynges, in the verie same maner destinguesshed and ordeined, as those were of the ordinarie maine battelles, which shall make twoo other wayes, and they all should be called of the numbre, and of the hande, where thei should be placed: in suche wyse, that all this side of the armie, shoulde come to be lodged in xii. orders of double lodgynges, and in xiii. waies, reckenynge captaine waie, and crosse waie: i would there should remayne a space from the lodgynges to the trenche of lxxv. yardes rounde aboute: and if you recken al these spaces, you shall see that from the middest of the capitaines lodgyng to the easte gate, there is dx. yardes. now there remaineth twoo spaces, whereof one is from the capitaines lodgyng to the southe gate, the other is from thense to the northe gate: whiche come to be (either of them measurynge them from the poincte in the middest) cccc.lxxvi. yardes. then takyng out of everie one of these spaces xxxvii. yardes and a halfe, whiche the capitaynes lodgynge occupieth, and xxxiiii. yardes everie waie for a market place, and xxii. yardes and a halfe for way that devides everie one of the saied spaces in the middest, and lxxv. yardes, that is lefte on everie part betweene the lodgynges and the trenche, there remaineth on every side a space for lodginges of ccc. yardes broade, and lxxv. yardes longe, measurynge the length with the space that the captaines lodgynge taketh up. devidynge then in the middest the saied lengthe, there woulde be made on every hande of the capitaine xl. lodgynges xxxvii. yardes and a halfe longe, and xv. broade, whiche will come to be in all lxxx. lodgynges, wherin shall be lodged the heddes of the maine battailes, the treasurers, the marshalles of the fielde, and all those that shoulde have office in the armie, leavyng some voide for straungers that shoulde happen to come, and for those that shall serve for good will of the capitaine. on the parte behinde the capitaines lodgynge, i would have a way from southe to northe xxiii. yardes large, and shoulde be called the bed way, whiche shall come to be placed a longe by the lxxx. lodgynges aforesayd: for that this waie, and the crosseway, shall come to place in the middest betweene them bothe the capitaines lodgynge, and the lxxx. lodgynges that be on the sides therof. from this bed waie, and from over agaynst the captaines lodgyng, i would make an other waie, which shoulde goe from thens to the weste gate, lykewyse broade xxii. yardes and a halfe, and should aunswer in situation and in length to the captaine way, and should be called the market waie. these twoo waies beynge made, i woulde ordeine the market place, where the market shall bee kepte, whiche i woulde place on the head of the market way over against the capitaines lodgynge, and joigned to the head way, and i woulde have it to be quadrante, and woulde assigne lxxxx. yardes and three quarters to a square: and on the right hande and lefte hande, of the saied market place, i would make two orders of lodginges, where everie order shal have eight double lodginges, which shall take up in length, ix. yardes, and in bredeth xxii. yardes and a halfe, so that there shall come to be on every hande of the market place, xvi. lodgynges that shall place the same in the middest which shall be in al xxxii. wherin i woulde lodge those horsemen, which shoulde remaine to the aidyng mayne battailes: and when these should not suffise, i woulde assigne theim some of those lodginges that placeth between them the capitaines lodgynge, and in especially those, that lie towardes the trenche. there resteth now to lodge the pikes, and extraordinarie veliti, that everie main battaile hath, which you know accordynge to our order, how everie one hath besides the x. battailes m. extraordinarie pikes, and five hundreth veliti: so that the twoo cheefe maine battailes, have two thousande extraordinarie pikes, and a thousande extraordinarie veliti, and the ayders as many as those, so that yet there remaineth to be lodged, vi. m. menne, whome i woulde lodge all on the weste side, and a longe the trenche. then from the ende of the hed waye, towardes northe, leavyng the space of lxxv. yardes from them to the trenche, i woulde place an order of v. double lodgynges, whiche in all shoulde take up lvi. yardes in lengthe, and xxx. in bredeth: so that the bredeth devided, there will come to everie lodgyng xi. yardes and a quarter for lengthe, and for bredeth twoo and twentie yardes and a half. and because there shall be x. lodgynges, i will lodge three hundred men, apoinctyng to every lodging xxx. men: leavyng then a space of three and twentie yardes and a quarter, i woulde place in like wise, and with like spaces an other order of five double lodgynges, and againe an other, till there were five orders of five double lodgynges: which wil come to be fiftie lodgynges placed by right line on the northe side, every one of them distante from the trenche lxxv. yardes, which will lodge fifteene hundred men. tournyng after on the lefte hande towardes the weste gate, i woulde pitche in all the same tracte, whiche were from them to the saied gate, five other orders of double lodgynges, with the verie same spaces, and with the verie same maner: true it is, that from the one order to the other, there shall not be more then a xi. yardes and a quarter of space: wherin shall be lodged also fifteene hundred men: and thus from the northe gate to the weste, as the trenche turneth, in a hundred lodginges devided in x. rewes of five double lodgynges in a rowe, there will be lodged all the pikes and extraordinarie veliti of the cheefe maine battayles. and so from the west gate to the southe, as the trenche tourneth even in the verie same maner, in other ten rewes of ten lodgynges in a rewe, there shall be lodged the pikes, and extraordinarie veliti of the aidyng mayne battailes. their headdes or their counstables may take those lodgynges, that shal seeme unto them moste commodious, on the parte towardes the trenche. the artillerie, i woulde dispose throughoute all the campe, a longe the banke of the trenche: and in all the other space that shoulde remaine towardes weste, i woulde lodge all the unarmed, and place all the impedimentes of the campe. and it is to be understoode, that under this name of impedimentes (as you know) the antiquitee mente all the same trayne, and all those thynges, which are necessarie for an armie, besides the souldiours: as are carpenters, smithes, masons, ingeners, bombardiers, althoughe that those might be counted in the numbre of the armed, herdemen with their herdes of motons and beeves whiche for victuallyng of the armie, are requiset: and moreover maisters of all sciences, together with publicke carriages of the publicke munition, whiche pertaine as well to victuallyng, as to armynge. nor i would not distinguishe these lodginges perticularly, only i would marke out the waies which should not be occupied of them: then the other spaces, that betweene the waies shall remaine, whiche shall be fower, i woulde appoincte theim generally for all the saied impedimentes, that is one for the herdemen, the other for artificers and craftes men, the thirde for publicke carriages of victuals, the fowerth for the municion of armour and weapons. the waies whiche i woulde shoulde be lefte without ocupiyng them, shal be the market waie, the head waye, and more over a waie that shoulde be called the midde waye, whiche should goe from northe to southe, and should passe thoroughe the middest of the market waie, whiche from the weste parte, shoulde serve for the same purpose that the overthwarte way doeth on the east parte. and besides this, a waye whiche shall goe aboute on the hinder parte, alonge the lodgynges of the pikes and extraordinarie veliti, and all these wayes shall be twoo and tweentie vardes and a halfe broade. and the artilerie, i woulde place a longe the trenche of the campe, rounde aboute the same. baptiste. i confesse that i understand not, nor i beleeve that also to saye so, is any shame unto me, this beyng not my exercise: notwithstandyng, this order pleaseth me muche: onely i woulde that you shoulde declare me these doubtes: the one, whie you make the waie, and the spaces aboute so large. the other, that troubleth me more, is these spaces, whiche you apoincte oute for the lodgynges, howe they ought to be used. [sidenote: the campe ought to be all waies of one facion.] fabricio. you must note, that i make all the waies, xxii. yardes and a halfe broade, to the intente that thorowe them, maie go a battaile of men in araie, where if you remember wel, i tolde you how every bande of menne, taketh in breadth betwene xviii. and xxii. yardes of space to marche or stande in. nowe where the space that is betwene the trenche, and the lodgynges, is lxxv. yardes broade, thesame is moste necessarie, to the intent thei maie there order the battailes, and the artillerie, bothe to conducte by thesame the praies, and to have space to retire theim selves with newe trenches, and newe fortificacion if neede were: the lodginges also, stande better so farre from the diches, beyng the more out of daunger of fires, and other thynges, whiche the enemie, might throwe to hurte them. concernyng the seconde demaunde, my intent is not that every space, of me marked out, bee covered with a pavilion onely, but to be used, as tourneth commodious to soch as lodge there, either with more or with lesse tentes, so that thei go not out of the boundes of thesame. and for to marke out these lodginges, there ought to bee moste cunnyng menne, and moste excellente architectours, whom, so sone as the capitaine hath chosen the place, maie knowe how to give it the facion, and to distribute it, distinguishyng the waies, devidyng the lodgynges with coardes and staves, in soche practised wise, that straight waie, thei maie bee ordained, and devided: and to minde that there growe no confusion, it is conveniente to tourne the campe, alwaies one waie, to the intente that every manne maie knowe in what waie, in what space he hath to finde his lodgyng: and this ought to be observed in every tyme, in every place, and after soche maner, that it seme a movyng citee, the whiche where so ever it goweth, carrieth with it the verie same waies, the verie same habitacions, and the verie same aspectes, that it had at the firste: the whiche thing thei cannot observe, whom sekyng strong situacions, must chaunge forme, accordyng to the variacion of the grounde: but the romaines in the plaine, made stronge the place where thei incamped with trenches, and with rampires, bicause thei made a space about the campe, and before thesame a ditche, ordinary broad fower yardes and a halfe, and depe aboute twoo yardes and a quarter, the which spaces, thei increased, according as thei intended to tarie in a place, and accordyng as thei feared the enemie. i for my parte at this presente, would not make the listes, if i intende not to winter in a place: yet i would make the trenche and the bancke no lesse, then the foresaied, but greater, accordyng to necessitie. also, consideryng the artellerie, i would intrench upon every corner of the campe, a halfe circle of ground, from whens the artillerie might flancke, whom so ever should seke to come over the trenche. in this practise in knowyng how to ordain a campe, the souldiours ought also to be exercised, and to make with them the officers expert, that are appoincted to marke it out, and the souldiours readie to knowe their places: nor nothyng therein is difficulte, as in the place thereof shall bee declared: wherefore, i will goe forewarde at this tyme to the warde of the campe, bicause without distribucion of the watche, all the other pain that hath been taken, should be vain. baptiste. before you passe to the watche, i desire that you would declare unto me, when one would pitche his campe nere the enemie, what waie is used: for that i knowe not, how a man maie have tyme, to be able to ordaine it without perill. fabricio. you shall understande this, that no capitaine will lye nere the enemie, except he, that is desposed to faight the fielde, when so ever his adversarie will: and when a capitaine is so disposed, there is no perill, but ordinarie: for that the twoo partes of the armie, stande alwaies in a redinesse, to faight the battaile, and thother maketh the lodginges. the romaines in this case, gave this order of fortifiyng the campe, unto the triarii: and the prencipi, and the astati, stoode in armes. this thei did, for as moche as the triarii, beyng the last to faight, might have time inough, if the enemie came, to leave the woorke, and to take their weapons, and to get them into their places. therfore, accordyng unto the romaines maner, you ought to cause the campe to be made of those battailes, whiche you will set in the hinder parte of the armie, in the place of the triarii. but let us tourne to reason of the watche. [sidenote: theantiquitie used no scoutes; the watche and warde of the campe.] i thinke i have not founde, emongest the antiquitie, that for to warde the campe in the night, thei have kepte watche without the trenche, distaunte as thei use now a daies, whom thei call scoutes: the whiche i beleve thei did, thinkyng that the armie might easely bee deceived, through the difficultie, that is in seeyng them againe, for that thei might bee either corrupted, or oppressed of the enemie: so that to truste either in parte, or altogether on them, thei judged it perillous. and therefore, all the strength of the watche, was with in the trenche, whiche thei did withall diligence kepe, and with moste greate order, punished with death, whom so ever observed not thesame order: the whiche how it was of them ordained, i will tell you no other wise, leaste i should bee tedious unto you, beyng able by your self to see it, if as yet you have not seen it: i shall onely briefly tell that, whiche shall make for my purpose, i wold cause to stand ordinarely every night, the thirde parte of the armie armed, and of thesame, the fowerth parte alwaies on foote, whom i would make to bee destributed, throughout all the banckes, and throughout all the places of the armie, with double warde, placed in every quadrante of thesame: of whiche, parte should stande still, parte continually should go from the one corner of the campe, to the other: and this order, i would observe also in the daie, when i should have the enemie nere. [sidenote: dilligence ought to be used, to knowe who lieth oute of the campe, and who they be that cometh of newe; claudius nero; the justice that ought to be in a campe. the fauts that the antiquitie punisshed with death; where greate punishementes be, there oughte likewise to bee great rewardes; it was no marvel that the romaines became mightie princes; a meane to punishe and execute justice, without raising tumultes; manlius capitolinus; souldiours sworen to kepe the discipline of warre.] concernyng the givyng of the watche worde, and renuyng thesame every evening, and to doe the other thynges, whiche in like watches is used, bicause thei are thynges well inough knowen, i will speake no further of them: onely i shall remember one thyng, for that it is of greate importaunce, and whiche causeth great saulfgarde observyng it, and not observyng it, moche harme: the whiche is, that there be observed greate diligence, to knowe at night, who lodgeth not in the campe, and who commeth a newe: and this is an easie thing to see who lodgeth, with thesame order that wee have appoincted: for as moche as every lodgyng havyng the determined nomber of menne, it is an easie matter to see, if thei lacke, or if there be more menne: and when thei come to be absente without lisence, to punishe them as fugetives, and if there bee more, to understande what thei be, what they make there, and of their other condicions. this diligence maketh that the enemie cannot but with difficultie, practise with thy capitaines, and have knowlege of thy counsailes: which thing if of the romaines, had not been diligently observed, claudius nero could not, havyng aniball nere hym, depart from his campe, whiche he had in lucania, and to go and to retourne from marca, without aniball should have firste heard thereof some thyng. but it suffiseth not to make these orders good, excepte thei bee caused to bee observed, with a greate severtie: for that there is nothyng that would have more observacion, then is requisite in an armie: therefore the lawes for the maintenaunce of thesame, ought to be sharpe and harde, and the executour therof moste harde. the romaines punished with death him that lacked in the watch, he that forsoke the place that was given hym to faight in, he that caried any thynge, hidde out of the campe, if any manne should saie, that he had doen some worthy thing in the faight, and had not doen it, if any had fought without the commaundemente of the capitaine, if any had for feare, caste awaie his weapons: and when it happened, that a cohorte, or a whole legion, had committed like fault, bicause thei would not put to death all, thei yet tooke al their names, and did put them in a bagge, and then by lotte, thei drue oute the tenthe parte, and so those were put to death: the whiche punishemente, was in soche wise made, that though every man did not feele it every man notwithstandyng feared it: and bicause where be greate punishementes, there ought to be also rewardes, mindyng to have menne at one instant, to feare and to hope, thei had appoincted rewardes to every worthie acte: as he that faighting, saved the life of one of his citezeins, to hym that firste leapte upon the walle of the enemies toune, to hym that entered firste into the campe of the enemies, to hym that had in faightyng hurte, or slaine the enemie, he that had stroken him from his horse: and so every vertuous act, was of the consulles knowen and rewarded, and openly of every manne praised: and soche as obtained giftes, for any of these thynges, besides the glorie and fame, whiche thei got emongest the souldiours, after when thei returned into their countrie, with solemne pompe, and with greate demonstracion emong their frendes and kinsfolkes, thei shewed them. therefore it was no marveile, though thesame people gotte so moche dominion, having so moche observacion in punishemente, and rewarde towardes theim, whom either for their well doyng, or for their ill doyng, should deserve either praise or blame: of whiche thynges it were convenient, to observe the greater parte. nor i thinke not good to kepe secrete, one maner of punishmente of theim observed, whiche was, that so sone as the offendour, was before the tribune, or consulle convicted, he was of the same lightely stroken with a rodde: after the whiche strikyng, it was lawfull for the offendour to flie, and to all the souldiours to kill hym: so that straight waie, every man threwe at hym either stones, or dartes, or with other weapons, stroke hym in soche wise, that he went but little waie a live, and moste fewe escaped, and to those that so escaped, it was not lawfull for them to retourne home, but with so many incommodities, and soche greate shame and ignomie, that it should have ben moche better for him to have died. this maner is seen to be almoste observed of the suizzers, who make the condempned to be put to death openly, of thother souldiours, the whiche is well considered, and excellently dooen: for that intendyng, that one be not a defendour of an evill doer, the greateste reamedie that is founde, is to make hym punisher of thesame: bicause otherwise, with other respecte he favoureth hym: where when he hymself is made execucioner, with other desire, he desireth his punishemente, then when the execucion commeth to an other. therefore mindyng, not to have one favored in his faulte of the people, a greate remedie it is, to make that the people, maie have hym to judge. for the greater proofe of this, thinsample of manlius capitolinus might be brought, who being accused of the scenate, was defended of the people, so longe as thei were not judge, but becommyng arbitratours in his cause, thei condempned hym to death. this is then a waie to punishe, without raisyng tumultes, and to make justise to be kepte: and for as moche as to bridell armed menne, neither the feare of the lawes, nor of menne suffise not, the antiquitie joined thereunto the aucthoritie of god: and therefore with moste greate ceremonies, thei made their souldiours to sweare, to kepe the discipline of warre, so that doyng contrariewise, thei should not onely have to feare the lawes, and menne, but god: and thei used all diligence, to fill them with religion. [sidenote: women and idell games, were not suffered by the antiquitie, to bee in their armies.] baptiste. did the romaines permitte, that women might bee in their armies, or that there might be used these idell plaies, whiche thei use now a daies. fabricio. thei prohibited the one and thother, and this prohibicion was not moche difficulte: for that there were so many exercises, in the whiche thei kept every daie the souldiours, some whiles particularely, somewhiles generally occupied that thei had no time to thinke, either on venus, or on plaies, nor on any other thyng, whiche sedicious and unproffitable souldiours doe. baptiste. i am herein satisfied, but tell me, when the armie had to remove, what order kepte thei? [sidenote: ordre in the removing the armie by the soundes of a trumpet.] fabricio. the chief trumpet sounded three tymes, at the firste sound, thei toke up the tentes, and made the packes, at the seconde, thei laded the carriage, at the thirde, thei removed in thesame maner aforsaied, with the impedimentes after every parte of armed men, placyng the legions in the middeste: and therefore you ought to cause after thesame sorte, an extraordinarie maine battaile to remove: and after that, the particulare impedimentes therof, and with those, the fowerth part of the publike impedimentes, which should bee all those, that were lodged in one of those partes, whiche a little afore we declared: and therfore it is conveniente, to have every one of them, appointed to a maine battaile, to the entente that the armie removyng, every one might knowe his place in marchyng: and thus every maine battaile ought to goe awaie, with their owne impedimentes, and with the fowerth parte of the publike impedimentes, followyng after in soche maner, as wee shewed that the romaines marched. baptiste. in pitchyng the campe, had thei other respectes, then those you have tolde? [sidenote: respectes to be had for incampyng; how to choose a place to incampe; how to avoide diseases from the armie; the wonderfull commoditie of exercise; the provision of victualles that ought alwaies to bee in a readinesse in an armie.] fabricio. i tell you again, that the romaines when thei encamped, would be able to kepe the accustomed fashion of their maner, the whiche to observe, thei had no other respecte: but concernyng for other consideracions, thei had twoo principall, the one, to incampe theim selves in a wholesome place, the other, to place themselves, where thenemie could not besiege theim, nor take from them the waie to the water, or victualles. then for to avoide infirmitie, thei did flie from places fennie, or subjecte to hurtfull windes: whiche thei knewe not so well, by the qualitie of the situacion, as by the face of the inhabitours: for when thei sawe theim evill coloured, or swollen, or full of other infeccion, thei would not lodge there: concernyng thother respecte to provide not to be besieged, it is requisite to consider the nature of the place, where the friendes lye, and thenemies, and of this to make a conjecture, if thou maiest be besieged or no: and therefore it is meete, that the capitaine be moste experte, in the knowlege of situacions of countries, and have aboute him divers men, that have the verie same expertenes. thei avoide also diseases, and famishment, with causyng the armie to kepe no misrule, for that to purpose to maintain it in health, it is nedefull to provide, that the souldiours maie slepe under tentes, that thei maie lodge where bee trees, that make shadowe, where woodde is for to dresse their meate, that thei go not in the heate, and therefore thei muste bee drawen out of the campe, before daie in summer, and in winter, to take hede that thei marche not in the snowe, and in the froste, without havyng comoditie to make fire, and not to lack necessarie aparel, nor to drink naughtie water: those that fall sicke by chaunce, make them to bee cured of phisicions: bicause a capitain hath no reamedie, when he hath to faight with sicknesse, and with an enemie: but nothing is so profitable, to maintaine the armie in health, as is the exercise: and therfore the antiquitie every daie, made them to exercise: wherby is seen how muche exercise availeth: for that in the campe, it kepeth thee in health, and in the faight victorious. concernyng famishemente, it is necessarie to see, that the enemie hinder thee not of thy victualles, but to provide where thou maieste have it, and to see that thesame whiche thou haste, bee not loste: and therefore it is requisite, that thou have alwaies in provision with the armie, sufficiente victuall for a monethe, and then removyng into some strong place, thou muste take order with thy nexte frendes, that daily thei maie provide for thee, and above al thinges bestowe the victual with diligence, givyng every daie to every manne, a reasonable measure, and observe after soche sorte this poincte, that it disorder thee not: bicause all other thyng in the warre, maie with tyme be overcome, this onely with tyme overcometh thee: nor there shall never any enemie of thyne, who maie overcome thee with famishemente, that will seeke to overcome thee with iron. for that though the victory be not so honourable, yet it is more sure and more certaine: then, thesame armie cannot avoide famishemente, that is not an observer of justice, whiche licenciously consumeth what it liste: bicause the one disorder, maketh that the victualls commeth not unto you, the other, that soche victuall as commeth, is unprofitably consumed: therefore thantiquitie ordained, that thei should spende thesame, whiche thei gave, and in thesame tyme when thei appoincted: for that no souldiour did eate, but when the capitaine did eate: the whiche how moche it is observed of the armies nowe adaies, every manne knoweth, and worthely thei can not bee called menne of good order and sober, as the antiquitie, but lasivious and drunkardes. baptiste. you saied in the beginnyng of orderynge the campe, that you woulde not stande onely uppon twoo maine battailes, but woulde take fower, for to shewe how a juste armie incamped: therfore i would you shoulde tell me twoo thynges, the one, when i shoulde have more or lesse men, howe i ought to incampe them, the other, what numbre of souldiours should suffice you to faight against what so ever enemie that were. [sidenote: howe to lodge in the campe more or lesse menne, then the ordinarie; the nombre of men that an army ought to be made of, to bee able to faighte with the puisantest enemie that is; howe to cause men to do soche a thing as shold bee profitable for thee, and hurtfull to them selves; howe to overcome menne at unwares; how to tourne to commoditie the doynges of soche, as use to advertise thy enemie of thy proceadynges; how to order the campe, that the enemie shal not perceive whether the same bee deminished, or increased; a saiyng of metellus; marcus crassus; how to understand the secretes of thy enemie; a policie of marius, to understande howe he might truste the frenchmen; what some capitaines have doen when their countrie have been invaded of enemies; to make the enemie necligente in his doynges; silla asdruball; the policie of aniball, where by he escaped out of the danger of fabius maximus; a capitayne muste devise how to devide the force of his enemies; how to cause the enemie to have in suspect his most trusty men; aniball coriolanus; metellus against jugurte; a practis of the romayne oratours, to bryng aniball out of credit with antiochus; howe to cause the enemie to devide his power; howe titus didius staied his enemies that wer going to incounter a legion of men that were commyng in his ayde; howe some have caused the enemie to devide his force; a policie to winne the enemies countrie before he be aware; howe to reforme sedicion and discorde; the benefitte that the reputacion of the capitaine causeth, which is only gotten by vertue; the chiefe thyng that a capitayne ought to doe; when paie wanteth, punishment is not to be executed; the inconvenience of not punisshynge; cesar chaunsynge to fall, made the same to be supposed to signifi good lucke; religion taketh away fantasticall opinions; in what cases a capitaine ought not to faight with his enemie if he may otherwyse choose; a policie of fulvius wherby he got and spoyled his enemies campe; a policie to disorder the enemie; a policie to overcome the enemie; a policie; how to beguile the enemie; howe mennonus trained his enemies oute of stronge places to bee the better able to overcom them.] fabricio. to the first question i answer you, that if the armie be more or lesse, then fower or sixe thousande souldiours, the orders of lodgynges, may bee taken awaie or joined, so many as suffiseth: and with this way a man may goe in more, and in lesse, into infinite: notwithstandynge the romaines, when thei joigned together twoo consull armies, thei made twoo campes, and thei tourned the partes of the unarmed, thone against thother. concernyng the second question, i say unto you, that the romaines ordinary armie, was about xxiiii. m. souldiours: but when thei were driven to faight against the greatest power that might be, the moste that thei put together, wer l. m. with this number, thei did set against two hundred thousand frenchemen, whome assaulted them after the first warre, that thei had with the carthageners. with this verie same numbre, thei fought againste anniball. and you muste note, that the romaines, and the grekes, have made warre with fewe, fortefiyng themselves thorough order, and thorough arte: the west, and the easte, have made it with multitude: but the one of these nacions, doeth serve with naturall furie: as doe the men of the west partes, the other through the great obedience whiche those men have to their kyng. but in grece, and in italy, beyng no naturall furie, nor the naturall reverence towardes their king, it hath been necessary for them to learne the discipline of warre, the whiche is of so muche force, that it hath made that a fewe, hath been able to overcome the furie, and the naturall obstinatenesse of manie. therefore i saie, that mindyng to imitate the romaines, and the grekes, the number of l. m. souldiers ought not to bee passed, but rather to take lesse: because manie make confucion, nor suffer not the discipline to be observed, and the orders learned, and pirrus used to saie, that with xv. thousande men he woulde assaile the worlde: but let us pas to an other parte. we have made this our armie to winne a field and shewed the travailes, that in the same fight may happen: we have made it to marche, and declared of what impedimentes in marchyng it may be disturbed: and finally we have lodged it: where not only it ought to take a littell reste of the labours passed, but also to thinke howe the warre ought to be ended: for that in the lodgynges, is handeled many thynges, inespecially thy enemies as yet remainyng in the fielde, and in suspected townes, of whome it is good to be assured, and those that be enemies to overcome them: therfore it is necessarie to come to this demonstracion, and to passe this difficultie with the same glorie, as hitherto we have warred. therfore comynge to particular matters, i saie that if it shoulde happen, that thou wouldest have manie men, or many people to dooe a thyng, whiche were to thee profittable, and to theim greate hurte, as should be to breake downe the wall of their citie, or to sende into exile many of them, it is necessarie for thee, either to beguile them in such wise that everie one beleeve not that it toucheth him: so that succouryng not the one the other, thei may finde them selves al to be oppressed without remedie, or els unto all to commaunde the same, whiche they ought to dooe in one selfe daie, to the intente that every man belevyng to be alone, to whome the commaundement is made, maie thinke to obey and not to remedie it: and so withoute tumulte thy commaundement to be of everie man executed. if thou shouldest suspecte the fidelitie of anie people, and woulde assure thee, and overcome them at unawares, for to colour thy intente more easelie, thou canst not doe better, then to counsel with them of some purpose of thine, desiryng their aide, and to seeme to intende to make an other enterprise, and to have thy minde farre from thinkyng on them: the whiche will make, that thei shall not think on their owne defence, beleevyng not that thou purposest to hurte them, and thei shal geve thee commoditie, to be able easely to satisfie thy desire. when thou shouldest perceive, that there were in thine armie some, that used to advertise thy enemie of thy devises, thou canst not doe better, myndynge to take commoditie by their traiterous mindes, then to commen with them of those thynges, that thou wilte not doe, and those that thou wilt doe, to kepe secret, and to say to doubte of thynges, that thou doubtest not, and those of whiche thou doubtest, to hide: the which shall make thenemie to take some enterprise in hand, beleving to know thy devises, where by easly thou maiest beguile and opresse hym. if thou shouldest intende (as claudius nero did) to deminishe thy armie, sendynge helpe to some freende, and that the enemie shoulde not bee aware therof, it is necessarie not to deminishe the lodgynges, but to maintayne the signes, and the orders whole, makyng the verie same fires, and the verye same wardes throughout all the campe, as wer wont to be afore. lykewise if with thy armie there should joigne new men, and wouldest that the enemie shoulde not know that thou werte ingrosed, it is necessarie not to increase the lodgynges: because keepyng secrete doynges and devises, hath alwaies been moste profitable. wherfore metellus beyng with an armie in hispayne, to one, who asked him what he would doe the nexte daie, answered, that if his sherte knew therof, he would bourne it. marcus craussus, unto one, whome asked him, when the armie shoulde remove, saied beleevest thou to be alone not to here the trumpet? if thou shouldest desire to understande the secretes of thy enemie, and to know his orders, some have used to sende embassadours, and with theim in servauntes aparel, moste expertest men in warre: whom havynge taken occasion to se the enemies armie, and to consider his strengthe and weakenesse, it hath geven them oportunitie to overcome him. some have sente into exile one of their familiars, and by meanes of the same, hath knowen the devises of his adversarie. also like secrettes are understoode of the enemies when for this effecte there were taken any prisoners. marius whiche in the warre that he made with the cimbrie, for to know the faieth of those frenchmen, who then inhabited lombardie, and were in leage with the romaine people, sent them letters open, and sealed: and in the open he wrote, that they shoulde not open the sealed, but at a certaine time, and before the same time demaundyng them againe, and finding them opened, knew thereby that their faithe was not to be trusted. some capitaines, being invaded, have not desired to goe to meete the enemie, but have gone to assaulte his countrey, and constrained him to retorne to defende his owne home: the whiche manie times hath come wel to passe, for that those soldiours beginnyng to fil them selves with booties, and confidence to overcome, shall sone make the enemies souldiours to wexe afraide, when they supposynge theim selves conquerours, shal understand to become losers: so that to him that hath made this diversion, manie times it hath proved well. but onely it may be doen by him, whiche hath his countrey stronger then that of the enemies, because when it were otherwise, he should goe to leese. it hath been often a profitable thyng to a capitaine, that hath been besieged in his lodgynges by the enemie, to move an intreatie of agreemente, and to make truse with him for certaine daies: the which is wonte to make the enemies more necligente in all doynges: so that avaylynge thee of their necligence, thou maiest easely have occacion to get thee oute of handes. by this way silla delivered him selfe twise from the enemies: and with this verie same deceipte, asdruball in hispayne got oute of the force of claudious nero, whome had besieged him. it helpeth also to deliver a man out of the daunger of the enemie, to do some thyng beside the forsaied, that may keepe him at a baye: this is dooen in two maners, either to assaulte him with parte of thy power, so that he beyng attentive to the same faight, may geve commoditie to the reste of thy men to bee able to save theim selves, or to cause to rise some newe accidente, which for the strayngenesse of the thynge, maie make him to marvell, and for this occasion to stande doubtefull, and still: as you knowe howe anniball dyd, who beynge inclosed of fabius maximus, tied in the nighte small bavens kindeled beetweene the hornes of manie oxen, so that fabius astonied at the strangenesse of the same sight, thought not to lette him at all the passage. a capitayne oughte amonge all other of his affaires, with al subtiltie to devise to devide the force of the enemie, either with makyng him to suspecte his owne menne, in whome he trusteth, or to give him occasion, that he maye seperate his menne, and therby to be come more weake. the fyrste way is dooen with keepyng saulfe the thynges of some of those whiche he hath aboute him, as to save in the warre their menne and their possessions, renderynge theim their children, or other their necessaries withoute raunsome. you know that anniball havynge burned all the fieldes aboute rome, he made onely to bee reserved saulfe those of fabius maximus. you know how coriolanus comyng with an armie to rome, preserved the possessions of the nobilitie, and those of the comminaltie he bourned, and sacked. metellus havinge an armie againste jugurte, all the oratours, whiche of jugurte were sente him, were required of him, that they woulde geve him jugurte prisoner, and after to the verie same men writyng letters of the verie same matter, wrought in suche wise, that in shorte tyme jugurte havyng in suspecte all his counsellours, in diverse maners put them to death. anniball beynge fled to antiochus, the romaine oratours practised with him so familiarly, that antiochus beyng in suspecte of him, trusted not anie more after to his counselles. concernyng to devide the enemies men, there is no more certainer waie, then to cause their countrie to be assaulted to the intente that being constrained to goe to defende the same, they maie forsake the warre. this way fabius used havynge agaynst his armie the power of the frenchemen, of the tuscans, umbries and sannites. titus didius havyng a few men in respecte to those of the enemies, and lookynge for a legion from rome, and the enemies purposinge to goe to incounter it, to the intente that they should not goe caused to bee noised through all his armie, that he intended the nexte daie to faighte the field with the enemies: after he used means, that certaine of the prisoners, that he had taken afore, had occasion to runne awaie. who declaryng the order that the consull had taken to faighte the nexte daie, by reason wherof the enemies beyng afraide to deminishe their owne strength, went not to incounter the same legion, and by this way thei wer conducted safe. the which means serveth not to devide the force of the enemies, but to augmente a mans owne. some have used to devide the enemies force, by lettyng him to enter into their countrie, and in profe have let him take manie townes, to the intente that puttynge in the same garrisons, he might thereby deminishe his power, and by this waie havynge made him weake, have assaulted and overcomen him. some other mindyng to goe into one province, have made as though they woulde have invaded an other, and used so much diligence, that sodenly entryng into the same, where it was not doubted that they woulde enter, they have first wonne it, before the ennemie coulde have time to succour it: for that thy enemie beynge not sure, whether thou purposest to tourne backe, to the place fyrste of thee threatned, is constrained not to forsake the one place, to succour the other, and so many times he defendeth neither the one nor the other. it importeth besides the sayde thynges to a capitaine, if there growe sedicion or discorde amonge the souldiours, to knowe with arte howe to extynguishe it: the beste waie is to chastise the headdes of the faultes, but it muste be doen in such wise, that thou maiest first have oppressed them, before they be able to be aware: the way is if they be distante from thee, not onely to call the offenders, but together with theim all the other, to the entente that not beleevynge, that it is for any cause to punishe them, they become not contumelius, but geve commoditie to the execution of the punishemente: when thei be present, thou oughtest to make thy selfe stronge with those that be not in faulte, and by meane of their helpe to punishe the other. when there hapneth discorde amonge them, the beste waye is, to bryng them to the perill, the feare whereof is wonte alwaies to make them agree. but that, which above all other thynge kepeth the armie in unitee, is the reputacion of the capitaine, the whiche onely groweth of his vertue: because neither bloud, nor authoritie gave it ever without vertue. and the chiefe thyng, whiche of a capitain is looked for to be doen, is, to keepe his souldiours punisshed, and paied: for that when so ever the paie lacketh, it is conveniente that the punisshement lacke: because thou canst not correcte a souldiour, that robbeth, if thou doest not paie him, nor the same mindynge to live, cannot abstaine from robbynge: but if thou paiest him and punisshest him not, he beecometh in everie condicion insolente: for that thou becomest of small estimacion, where thou chaunsest not to bee able to maintaine the dignitie of thy degree, and not mainetainyng it, there foloweth of necessitee tumulte, and discorde, whiche is the ruine of an armie. olde capitaines had a troubell, of the which the presente be almoste free, whiche was to interprete to their purpose the sinister auguries: because if there fell a thunderbolte in an armie, if the sunne were darkened or the moone, if there came an erthequake, if the capitaine either in gettyng up, or in lightynge of his horse fell, it was of the souldiours interpreted sinisterously: and it ingendred in them so moche feare, that comynge to faight the fielde, easely they should have lost it: and therefore the aunciente capitaines so sone as a lyke accidente grewe, either they shewed the cause of the same, and redused it to a naturall cause, or they interpreted it to their purpose. cesar fallyng in africa, in comyng of the sea saied, africa i have taken thee. moreover manie have declared the cause of the obscuryng of the moone, and of earthquakes: which thing in our time cannot happen, as well because our men be not so supersticious, as also for that our religion taketh away altogether such opinions: al be it when they should chaunse, the orders of the antiquitie ought to be imitated. when either famishement, or other naturall necessitie, or humaine passion, hath broughte thy enemie to an utter desperation, and he driven of the same, cometh to faight with thee, thou oughtest to stande within thy campe, and as muche as lieth in thy power, to flie the faight. so the lacedemonians did against the masonians, so cesar did against afranio, and petreio. fulvius beyng consul, against the cimbrians, made his horsemen manie daies continually to assaulte the enemies, and considered how thei issued out of their campe for to folow them: wherfore he sette an ambusshe behinde the campe of the cimbrians, and made them to be assaulted of his horsmen, and the cimbrians issuyng oute of their campe for to follow them. fulvio gotte it, and sacked it. it hath ben of great utilitie to a capitaine, havyng his armie nere to the enemies armie, to sende his menne with the enemies ansignes to robbe, and to burne his owne countrey, whereby the enemies beleevynge those to bee menne, whiche are come in their aide, have also runne to helpe to make them the pray: and for this disorderyng them selves, hathe therby given oportunitie to the adversary to overcome them. this waie alexander of epirus used againste the illirans and leptenus of siracusa against the carthaginers and bothe to the one and to the other, the devise came to passe most happely. manie have overcome the enemie, gevyng him occasion to eate and to drinke oute of measure, fayning to have feared, and leaving their campes full of wyne and herdes of cattell, wherof the enemie beyng filled above all naturall use, have then assaulted him, and with his destruction overthrowen him. so tamirus did against cirus, and tiberius graccus agaynst the spaniardes. some have poysoned the wine, and other thynges to feede on, for to be able more easely to overcome them. i saied a littel afore how i founde not, that the antiquetie kepte in the night scoutes abroade, and supposed that they did it for to avoide the hurte, whiche might growe therby: because it is founde, that through no other meane then throughe the watche man, whiche was set in the daie to watche the enemie, hath been cause of the ruin of him, that set him there: for that manie times it hath hapned, that he beyng taken, hath been made perforce to tell theim the token, whereby they might call his felowes, who commyng to the token, have been slaine or taken. it helpeth to beguile the enemie sometime to varie a custome of thine, whereupon he having grounded him self, remaineth ruinated: as a capitaine did once, whome usinge to cause to be made signes to his men for comynge of the enemies in the night with fire, and in the daie with smoke, commaunded that withoute anie intermission, they shoulde make smoke and fire, and after commynge upon them the enemie, they should reste, whome beleevyng to come without beynge seen, perceivyng no signe to be made of beyng discovered, caused (through goeyng disordered) more easie the victorie to his adversarie. mennonus a rodian mindynge to drawe from stronge places the enemies armie, sente one under colour of a fugitive, the whiche affirmed, howe his armie was in discorde, and that the greater parte of them wente awaie: and for to make the thynge to be credited, he caused to make in sporte, certaine tumultes amonge the lodgynges: whereby the enemie thvnkyng thereby to be able to discomfaighte them, assaultynge theim, were overthrowen. [sidenote: the enemie ought not to be brought into extreme desperacion; how lucullus constrained certaine men that ran awaie from him to his enemies, to fayght whether they wold or not.] besides thesaied thynges, regarde ought to be had not to brynge the enemie into extreme desperacion: whereunto cesar had regarde, faightyng with the duchemen, who opened them the waie, seyng, howe thei beyng not able to flie, necessitie made them strong, and would rather take paine to followe theim, when thei fled, then the perill to overcome them, when thei defended them selves. lucullus seyng, how certaine macedonian horsemenne, whiche were with hym, went to the enemies parte, straight waie made to sounde to battaile, and commaunded, that the other men should folowe hym: whereby the enemies beleving, that lucullus would begin the faight, went to incounter the same macedonians, with soche violence, that thei were constrained to defende themselves: and so thei became against their willes, of fugetives, faighters. it importeth also to knowe, how to be assured of a toune, when thou doubteste of the fidelitie thereof, so sone as thou haste wonne the fielde, or before, the whiche certain old insamples maie teache thee. [sidenote: a policie wher by pompey got a towne; how publius valerius assured him self of a towne; a policie that alexander magnus used to be assured of all tracia, which philip kynge of spaine did practise to be asured of england when he wente to sainct quintens; examples for capitaines to winne the hartes of the people.] pompei doubtyng of the catinensians, praied them that thei would bee contente, to receive certaine sicke menne, that he had in his armie, and sendyng under the habite of sicke persones, most lustie menne, gotte the toune. publius valerius, fearyng the fidelitie of the epidannians, caused to come, as who saieth, a pardon to a churche without the toune, and when al the people wer gone for pardon, he shutte the gates, receivyng after none in, but those whom he trusted. alexander magnus, mindyng to goe into asia, and to assure himself of thracia, toke with him all the principall of thesame province, givyng theim provision, and he set over the common people of thracia, men of lowe degree, and so he made the princes contented with paiyng theim, and the people quiete, havyng no heddes that should disquiete them: but emong all the thynges, with the whiche the capitaines, winne the hartes of the people, be the insamples of chastitie and justice, as was thesame of scipio in spaine, when he rendered that yong woman, moste faire of personage to her father, and to her housebande: the whiche made him more, then with force of armes to winne spain. cesar having caused that woodde to bee paied for, whiche he had occupied for to make the listes, about his armie in fraunce, got so moche a name of justice, that he made easier the conquest of thesame province. i cannot tell what remaineth me, to speake more upon these accidentes, for that concerning this matter, there is not lefte any parte, that hath not been of us disputed. onely there lacketh to tell, of the maner of winnyng, and defendyng a toune: the whiche i am readie to doe willingly, if you be not now wearie. baptiste. your humanitie is so moche, that it maketh us to followe our desires, without beyng afraied to be reputed presumptuous, seyng that you liberally offer thesame, whiche we should have been ashamed, to have asked you: therefore, we saie unto you onely this, that to us you cannot dooe a greater, nor a more gratefuller benefite, then to finishe this reasonyng. but before that you passe to that other matter, declare us a doubte, whether it bee better to continewe the warre, as well in the winter, as thei use now adaies, or to make it onely in the sommer, and to goe home in the winter, as the antiquitie did. [sidenote: warre ought not to be made in winter; rough situacions, colde and watrie times, are enemies to the oder of warre; an overthrowe caused by winter.] fabricio. see, that if the prudence of the demaunder were not, there had remained behinde a speciall part, that deserveth consideracion. i answere you againe, that the antiquitie did all thynges better, and with more prudence then wee: and if wee in other things commit some erroure, in the affaires of warre, wee commit all errour. there is nothing more undiscrete, or more perrillous to a capitayne, then to make warre in the winter, and muche more perrill beareth he, that maketh it, then he that abideth it: the reason is this. all the industrie that is used in the discipline of warre, is used for to bee prepared to fighte a fielde with thy enemie, because this is the ende, whereunto a capitayne oughte to goo or endevour him selfe: for that the foughten field, geveth thee the warre wonne or loste: then he that knoweth best how to order it, and he that hath his army beste instructed, hath moste advauntage in this, and maye beste hope to overcome. on the other side, there is nothing more enemie to the orders, and then the rough situacions, or the colde watery time: for that the rough situacions, suffereth thee not to deffende thy bandes, according to thee discipline: the coulde and watery times, suffereth thee not to keepe thy men together, nor thou canst not bring them in good order to the enemy: but it is convenient for thee to lodge them a sunder of necessitie, and without order, being constrayned to obeye to castells, to boroughes, and to the villages, that maye receyve thee, in maner that all thy laboure of thee, used to instructe the army is vaine. nor marvayle you not though now a daies, they warre in the winter, because the armies being without discipline, know not the hurt that it dooth them, in lodging not together, for that it is no griefe to them not to be able to keepe those orders, and to observe that discipline, which they have not: yet they oughte to see howe much harme, the camping in the winter hath caused, and to remember, how the frenchmen in the yeare of oure lorde god, a thousande five hundred and three, were broken at gariliano of the winter, and not of the spaniardes: for as much as i have saide, he that assaulteth, hath more disadvauntage then he that defendeth: because the fowle weather hurteth him not a littell, being in the dominion of others and minding to make warre. for that he is constrayned, either to stande together with his men, and to sustaine the incommoditie of water and colde, or to avoide it to devide his power: but he that defendeth, may chuse the place as he listeth, and tary him with his freshe men: and he in a sodayne may set his men in araye, and goo to find a band of the enemies men, who cannot resiste the violence of them. so the frenchemen were discomfited, and so they shall alwayes be discomfited, which will assaulte in the winter an enemye, whoo hath in him prudence. then he that will that force, that orders, that discipline and vertue, in anye condition availe him not, let him make warre in the fielde in the winter: and because that the romaines woulde that all these thinges, in which they bestowed so much diligence, should availe them, fleedde no otherwise the winter, then the highe alpes, and difficulte places, and whatsoever other thing shoulde let them, for being able to shewe their arte and their vertue. so this suffiseth to your demaund, wherefore we wil come to intreate of the defending and besieging of tounes, and of their situacions and edifications. the seventh booke [sidenote: tounes and fortresses maie be strong twoo waies; the place that now a daies is moste sought to fortifie in; how a toune walle ought to bee made; the walle of a toune ought to bee high, and the diche within, and not without; the thickenes that a toune walle ought to bee of, and the distaunces betwene everie flancker, and of what breadth and deapth the dich ought to bee; how the ordinaunce is planted, for the defence of a toune; the nature of the batterie.] you oughte to knowe, how that tounes and fortresses, maie bee strong either by nature, or by industrie; by nature, those bee strong, whiche bee compassed aboute with rivers, or with fennes, as mantua is and ferrara, or whiche bee builded upon a rocke, or upon a stepe hille, as monaco, and sanleo: for that those that stande upon hilles, that be not moche difficulct to goe up, be now a daies, consideryng the artillerie and the caves, moste weake. and therfore moste often times in building, thei seke now a daies a plain, for to make it stronge with industrie. the firste industrie is, to make the walles crooked, and full of tournynges, and of receiptes: the whiche thyng maketh, that thenemie cannot come nere to it, bicause he maie be hurte, not onely on the front, but by flancke. if the walles be made high, thei bee to moche subjecte to the blowes of the artillerie: if thei be made lowe, thei bee moste easie to scale. if thou makeste the diches on the out side thereof, for to give difficultie to the ladders, if it happen that the enemie fill them up (whiche a great armie maie easely dooe) the wall remaineth taken of thenemie. therefore purposyng to provide to the one and thother foresaid inconveniences, i beleve (savyng alwaies better judgement) that the walle ought to be made highe, and the diche within, and not without. this is the moste strongeste waie of edificacion, that is made, for that it defendeth thee from the artillerie, and from ladders, and it giveth not facilitie to the enemie, to fill up the diche: then the walle ought to be high, of that heighth as shall bee thought beste, and no lesse thick, then two yardes and a quarter, for to make it more difficult to ruinate. moreover it ought to have the toures placed, with distances of cl. yardes betwen thone and thother: the diche within, ought to be at leaste twoo and twentie yardes and a halfe broad, and nine depe, and al the yearth that is digged out, for to make the diche, muste be throwen towardes the citee, and kepte up of a walle, that muste be raised from the bottome of the diche, and goe so high over the toune, that a man maie bee covered behinde thesame, the whiche thing shal make the depth of the diche the greater. in the bottome of the diche, within every hundred and l. yardes, there would be a slaughter house, which with the ordinaunce, maie hurte whom so ever should goe doune into thesame: the greate artillerie that defende the citee, are planted behinde the walle, that shutteth the diche, bicause for to defende the utter walle, being high, there cannot bee occupied commodiously, other then smalle or meane peeses. if the enemie come to scale, the heigth of the firste walle moste easely defendeth thee: if he come with ordinaunce, it is convenient for hym to batter the utter walle: but it beyng battered, for that the nature of the batterie is, to make the walle to fall, towardes the parte battered, the ruine of the walle commeth, finding no diche that receiveth and hideth it, to redouble the profunditie of thesame diche: after soche sorte, that to passe any further, it is not possible, findyng a ruine that with holdeth thee, a diche that letteth thee, and the enemies ordinaunce, that from the walle of the diche, moste safely killeth thee. onely there is this remedie, to fill the diche: the whiche is moste difficulte to dooe, as well bicause the capacitie thereof is greate, as also for the difficultie, that is in commyng nere it, the walle beeyng strong and concaved, betwene the whiche, by the reasons aforesaied, with difficultie maie be entered, havyng after to goe up a breache through a ruin, whiche giveth thee moste greate difficultie, so that i suppose a citee thus builded, to be altogether invinsible. baptiste. when there should bee made besides the diche within, a diche also without, should it not bee stronger? fabricio. it should be without doubt, but mindyng to make one diche onely, myne opinion is, that it standeth better within then without. baptiste. would you, that water should bee in the diches, or would you have them drie? [sidenote: a drie diche is moste sureste.] fabricio. the opinion of men herein bee divers, bicause the diches full of water, saveth thee from mines under grounde, the diches without water, maketh more difficulte the fillyng of them: but i havyng considered all, would make them without water, for that thei bee more sure: for diches with water, have been seen in the winter to bee frosen, and to make easie the winnyng of a citee, as it happened to mirandola, when pope julie besieged it: and for to save me from mines, i would make it so deepe, that he that would digge lower, should finde water. [sidenote: an advertisemente for the buildyng and defending of a toune or fortresse; small fortresses cannot bee defended; a toune of war or fortresse, ought not to have in them any retiring places; cesar borgia; the causes of the losse of the fortresse of furlie, that was thought invincible; howe the houses that are in a toune of war or fortresse ought to be builded.] the fortresses also, i would builde concernyng the diches and the walles in like maner, to the intent thei should have the like difficultie to be wonne. one thyng i will earnestly advise hym, that defendeth a citee: and that is, that he make no bulwarkes without distaunte from the walle of thesame: and an other to hym that buildeth the fortresse, and this is, that he make not any refuge place in them, in whiche he that is within, the firste walle beyng loste, maie retire: that whiche maketh me to give the firste counsaile is, that no manne ought to make any thyng, by meane wherof, he maie be driven without remedie to lese his firste reputacion, the whiche losyng, causeth to be estemed lesse his other doinges, and maketh afraied them, whom have taken upon theim his defence, and alwaies it shall chaunce him this, whiche i saie, when there are made bulwarkes out of the toune, that is to bee defended, bicause alwaies he shall leese theim, little thynges now a daies, beyng not able to bee defended, when thei be subject to the furie of ordinance, in soche wise that lesyng them, thei be beginning and cause of his ruine. when genua rebelled againste king leus of fraunce, it made certaine bulwarkes alofte on those hilles, whiche bee about it, the whiche so sone as thei were loste, whiche was sodainly, made also the citee to be loste. concernyng the second counsaile, i affirme nothyng to be to a fortresse more perilous, then to be in thesame refuge places, to be able to retire: bicause the hope that menne have thereby, maketh that thei leese the utter warde, when it is assaulted: and that loste, maketh to bee loste after, all the fortresse. for insample there is freshe in remembraunce, the losse of the fortresse of furly, when catherin the countesse defended it againste cesar borgia, sonne to pope alexander the vi. who had conducted thether the armie of the king of fraunce: thesame fortresse, was al full of places, to retire out of one into an other: for that there was firste the kepe, from the same to the fortresse, was a diche after soche sorte, that thei passed over it by a draw bridge: the fortresse was devided into three partes, and every parte was devided from the other with diches, and with water, and by bridges, thei passed from the one place to the other: wherefore the duke battered with his artillerie, one of the partes of the fortresse, and opened part of the walle: for whiche cause maister jhon casale, whiche was appoincted to that warde, thought not good to defende that breache, but abandoned it for to retire hymself into the other places: so that the dukes men having entered into that parte without incounter, in a sodaine thei gotte it all: for that the dukes menne became lordes of the bridges, whiche went from one place to an other. thei loste then this fortresse, whiche was thought invinsible, through two defaultes, the one for havyng so many retiryng places, the other, bicause every retiryng place, was not lorde of the bridge thereof. therefore, the naughtie builded fortresse, and the little wisedome of them that defended it, caused shame to the noble enterprise of the countesse, whoe had thought to have abidden an armie, whiche neither the kyng of naples, nor the duke of milaine would have abidden: and although his inforcementes had no good ende, yet notwithstandyng he gotte that honoure, whiche his valiauntnesse had deserved: the whiche was testified of many epigrammes, made in those daies in his praise. therefore, if i should have to builde a fortresse, i would make the walles strong, and the diches in the maner as we have reasoned, nor i would not make therein other, then houses to inhabite, and those i would make weake and lowe, after soche sorte that thei should not let him that should stande in the middest of the market place, the sight of all the walle, to the intente that the capitain might see with the iye, where he maie succour: and that every manne should understande, that the walle and the diche beyng lost, the fortresse were lost. and yet when i should make any retiryng places, i would make the bridges devided in soche wise, that every parte should be lorde of the bridges of his side, ordainyng, that thei should fall upon postes, in the middest of the diche. baptiste. you have saied that littel thynges now a daies can not bee defended, and it seemed unto me to have understoode the contrarie, that the lesser that a thyng wer, the better it might be defended. [sidenote: the fortifiyng of the entrance of a toune.] fabricio. you have not understoode well, because that place cannot be now a daies called stronge, wher he that defendeth it, hath not space to retire with new diches, and with new fortificacions, for that the force of the ordinance is so much, that he that trusteth uppon the warde of one wall and of one fortification only, is deceived: and because the bulwarkes (mindyng that they passe not their ordinarie measure, for that then they shoulde be townes and castels) be not made, in suche wise that men maie have space within them to retire, thei are loste straight waie. therefore it is wisdom to let alone those bulwarkes without, and to fortifie thenterance of the toune, and to kever the gates of the same with turnyngs after suche sort, that men cannot goe in nor oute of the gate by right line: and from the tournynges to the gate, to make a diche with a bridge. also they fortifie the gate, with a percullis, for to bee abell to put therin their menne, when they be issued out to faight, and hapnyng that the enemies pursue them, to avoide, that in the mingelynge together, they enter not in with them: and therfore these be used, the which the antiquitie called cattarratte, the whiche beyng let fall, exclude thenemies, and save the freendes, for that in suche a case, men can do no good neither by bridges nor by a gate, the one and the other beynge ocupied with prease of menne. baptiste. i have seene these perculleses that you speake of, made in almayne of littell quarters of woodde after the facion of a grate of iron, and these percullises of ouers, be made of plankes all massive: i woulde desire to understande whereof groweth this difference, and which be the strongest. [sidenote: battelments ought to be large and thicke and the flanckers large within.] fabricio. i tell you agayne, that the manners and orders of the warre, throughe oute all the worlde, in respecte to those of the antiquitie, be extinguesshed, and in italye they bee altogether loste, for if there bee a thing somewhat stronger then the ordinarye, it groweth of the insample of other countries. you mighte have understoode and these other may remember, with howe muche debilitie before, that king charles of fraunce in the yere of our salvation a thousande cccc. xciiii. had passed into italie, they made the batelmentes not halfe a yarde thicke, the loopes, and the flanckers were made with a litle opening without, and muche within, and with manye other faultes whiche not to be tedious i will let passe: for that easely from thinne battelments the defence is taken awaye, the flanckers builded in the same maner, moste easylye are opened: nowe of the frenchemen is learned to make the battelment large and thicke, and the flanckers to bee large on the parte within, and to drawe together in the middeste of the wall, and then agayn to waxe wider unto the uttermost parte without: this maketh that the ordinaunce hardlye can take away the defence. therfore the frenchmen have, manye other devises like these, the whiche because they have not beene seene of our men, they have not beene considered. among whiche, is this kinde of perculles made like unto a grate, the which is a greate deale better then oures: for that if you have for defence of a gate a massive parculles as oures, letting it fall, you shutte in your menne, and you can not though the same hurte the enemie, so that hee with axes, and with fire, maye breake it downe safely: but if it bee made like a grate, you maye, it being let downe, through those holes and through those open places, defende it with pikes, with crosbowes, and with all other kinde of weapons. baptiste. i have seene in italye an other use after the outelandishe fashion, and this is, to make the carriage of the artillery with the spokes of the wheele crooked towardes the axeltree. i woulde knowe why they make them so: seeming unto mee that they bee stronger when they are made straighte as those of oure wheeles. [sidenote: neither the ditche, wall tillage, nor any kinde of edificacion, ought to be within a mile of a toune of warre.] fabricio. never beleeve that the thinges that differ from the ordinarie wayes, be made by chaunce: and if you shoulde beleeve that they make them so, to shewe fayrer, you are deceaved: because where strength is necessarie, there is made no counte of fayrenesse: but all groweth, for that they be muche surer and muche stronger then ours. the reason is this: the carte when it is laden, either goeth even, or leaning upon the righte, or upon the lefte side: when it goeth even, the wheeles equally sustayne the wayght, the which being equallye devided betweene them, doth not burden much, but leaning, it commeth to have all the paise of the cariage on the backe of that wheele upon the which it leaneth. if the spokes of the same be straight they wil soone breake: for that the wheele leaning, the spokes come also to leane, and not to sustaine the paise by the straightnesse of them, and so when the carte goeth even, and when they are least burdened, they come to bee strongest: when the carte goeth awrye, and that they come to have moste paise, they bee weakest. even the contrarie happeneth to the crooked spokes of the frenche cartes, for that when the carte leaning upon one side poincteth uppon them, because they bee ordinary crooked, they come then to bee straight, and to be able to sustayne strongly al the payse, where when the carte goeth even, and that they bee crooked, they sustayne it halfe: but let us tourne to our citie and fortresse. the frenchemen use also for more safegarde of the gates of their townes, and for to bee able in sieges more easylye to convey and set oute men of them, besides the sayde thinges, an other devise, of which i have not seene yet in italye anye insample: and this is, where they rayse on the oute side from the ende of the drawe bridge twoo postes, and upon either of them they joigne a beame, in suche wise that the one halfe of them comes over the bridge, the other halfe with oute: then all the same parte that commeth withoute, they joygne together with small quarters of woodde, the whiche they set thicke from one beame to an other like unto a grate, and on the parte within, they fasten to the ende of either of the beames a chaine: then when they will shutte the bridge on the oute side, they slacke the chaines, and let downe all the same parte like unto a grate, the whiche comming downe, shuttethe the bridge, and when they will open it, they drawe the chaines, and the same commeth to rise up, and they maye raise it up so much that a man may passe under it, and not a horse, and so much that there maye passe horse and man, and shutte it againe at ones, for that it falleth and riseth as a window of a battelment. this devise is more sure than the parculles, because hardely it maye be of the enemye lette in such wise, that it fall not downe, falling not by a righte line as the parculles, which easely may be underpropped. therfore they which will make a citie oughte to cause to be ordained all the saide things: and moreover aboute the walle, there woulde not bee suffered any grounde to be tilled, within a myle thereof, nor any wall made, but shoulde be all champaine, where should be neither ditch nor banck, neither tree nor house, which might let the fighte, and make defence for the enemie that incampeth. [sidenote: noote; the provision that is meete to be made for the defence of a toune.] and noote, that a towne, whiche hathe the ditches withoute, with the banckes higher then the grounde, is moste weake: for as muche as they make defence to the enemye which assaulteth thee, and letteth him not hurte thee, because easely they may be opened, and geve place to his artillerye: but let us passe into the towne. i will not loose so muche time in shewing you howe that besides the foresayde thinges, it is requisite to have provision of victualles, and wherewith to fight, for that they be thinges that everye man underdeth, and without them, all other provision is vaine: and generally twoo thinges oughte to be done, to provide and to take the commoditie from the enemie that he availe not by the things of thy countrey: therfore the straw, the beastes, the graine, whiche thou canste not receive into house, ought to be destroied. also he that defendeth a towne, oughte to provide that nothing bee done tumultuouslye and disordinatelye, and to take suche order, that in all accidentes everye man maye knowe what he hath to doo. [sidenote: what incoragethe the enemy most that besiegeth a toune; what he that besiegeth and he that defendeth oughte to doo; advertisementes for a besieged towne; howe the romaines vitaled casalino besieged of aniball; a policie for the besieged.] the order that oughte to be taken is thus, that the women, the olde folkes, the children, and the impotent, be made to keepe within doores, that the towne maye be left free, to yong and lustie men, whom being armed, must be destributed for the defence of the same, appointing part of them to the wall, parte to the gates, parte to the principall places of the citie, for to remedie those inconveniences, that might growe within: an other parte must not be bound to any place, but be ready to succour all, neede requiring: and the thing beeing ordained thus, with difficultie tumulte can growe, whiche maye disorder thee. also i will that you note this, in the besieging and defending of a citie, that nothing geveth so muche hoope to the adversarye to be able to winne a towne, as when he knoweth that the same is not accustomed to see the enemie: for that many times for feare onely without other experience of force, cities have bene loste: therefore a man oughte, when he assaulteth a like citie, to make all his ostentacions terrible. on the other parte he that is assaulted, oughte to appoincte to the same parte, whiche the enemie fighteth againste, strong men and suche as opinion makethe not afraide, but weapons onely: for that if the first proofe turne vaine, it increaseth boldenesse to the besieged, and then the enemie is constrained to overcome them within, with vertue and reputacion. the instrumentes wherwith the antiquitie defended townes, where manie: as balistes, onagris, scorpions, arcubalistes, fustibals, slinges: and also those were manie with which thei gave assaultes. as arrieti, towers, musculi plutei, viney, falci, testudeni, in steede of which thynges be now a daies the ordinance, the whiche serve him that bessegeth, and him that defendeth: and therfore i will speake no forther of theim: but let us retourne to our reasonyng and let us come to particular offences. they ought to have care not to be taken by famine, and not to be overcome through assaultes: concernyng famin, it hath ben tolde, that it is requiset before the siege come, to be well provided of vitualles. but when a towne throughe longe siege, lacketh victuals, some times hath ben seen used certaine extraordinarie waies to be provided of their friendes, whome woulde save them: inespeciall if through the middest of the besieged citie there runne a river, as the romaines vittelled their castell called casalino besieged of anibal, whom being not able by the river to sende them other victual then nuttes, wherof castyng in the same great quantitie, the which carried of the river, without beyng abel to be letted, fedde longe time the casalinians. some besieged, for to shew unto the enemie, that they have graine more then inough and for to make him to dispaire, that he cannot, by famin overcome theim, have caste breade oute of the gates, or geven a bullocke graine to eate, and after have suffered the same to be taken, to the intent that kilde and founde full of graine, might shewe that aboundance, whiche they had not. on the other parte excellent capitaines have used sundrie waies to werie the enemie. [sidenote: a policie of fabius in besieging of a toune; a policie of dionisius in besiegynge of a toune.] fabius suffered them whome he besieged, to sowe their fieldes, to the entente that thei should lacke the same corne, whiche they sowed. dionisius beynge in campe at regio, fained to minde to make an agreement with them, and duryng the practise therof he caused him selfe to be provided of their victuales, and then when he had by this mean got from them their graine, he kepte them straight and famished them. [sidenote: howe alexander wanne leucadia.] alexander magnus mindyng to winne leucadia overcame all the castels aboute it, and by that means drivyng into the same citie a great multitude of their owne countrie men, famished them. [sidenote: the besieged ought to take heed of the first brunte; the remedie that townes men have, when the enemies ar entred into the towne; how to make the townes men yeelde.] concernynge the assaultes, there hath been tolde that chiefely thei ought to beware of the firste bronte, with whiche the romaines gotte often times manie townes, assaultyng them sodainly, and on every side: and thei called it _aggredi urbem corona_. as scipio did, when he wanne newe carthage in hispayne: the which brunte if of a towne it be withstoode, with difficultie after will bee overcome: and yet thoughe it should happen that the enemie were entred into the citie, by overcomynge the wall, yet the townes men have some remedie, so thei forsake it not: for as much as manie armies through entring into a toune, have ben repulced or slaine: the remedie is, that the townes men doe keepe them selves in highe places, and from the houses, and from the towers to faight with them: the whiche thynge, they that have entered into the citie, have devised to overcome in twoo manners: the one with openyng the gates of the citie, and to make the waie for the townes men, that thei might safely flie: the other with sendynge foorthe a proclamacion, that signifieth, that none shall be hurte but the armed, and to them that caste their weapons on the grounde, pardon shall be graunted: the whiche thynge hath made easie the victorie of manie cities. [sidenote: how townes or cities are easelie wonne; how duke valentine got the citie of urbine; the besieged ought to take heede of the deciptes and policies of the enemie; how domitio calvino wan a towne.] besides this, the citees are easie to bee wonne, if thou come upon them unawares: whiche is dooen beyng with thy armie farre of, after soche sort, that it be not beleved, either that thou wilte assaulte theim, or that thou canst dooe it, without commyng openly, bicause of the distance of the place: wherefore, if thou secretely and spedely assaulte theim, almoste alwaies it shall followe, that thou shalte gette the victorie. i reason unwillingly of the thynges succeded in our tyme, for that to me and to mine, it should be a burthen, and to reason of other, i cannot tel what to saie: notwithstanding, i cannot to this purpose but declare, the insample of cesar borgia, called duke valentine, who beyng at nocera with his menne, under colour of goyng to besiege camerino, tourned towardes the state of urbin, and gotte a state in a daie, and without any paine, the whiche an other with moche time and cost, should scante have gotten. it is conveniente also to those, that be besieged, to take heede of the deceiptes, and of the policies of the enemie, and therefore the besieged ought not to truste to any thyng, whiche thei see the enemie dooe continually, but let theim beleve alwaies, that it is under deceipte, and that he can to their hurte varie it. domitio calvino besiegyng a toune, used for a custome to compasse aboute every daie, with a good parte of his menne, the wall of the same: whereby the tounes menne, belevyng that he did it for exercise, slacked the ward: whereof domicius beyng aware, assaulted and overcame them. [sidenote: a policie to get a towne.] certaine capitaines understandyng, that there should come aide to the besieged, have apareled their souldiours, under the ansigne of those, that should come, and beyng let in, have gotte the toune. [sidenote: how simon of athens wan a towne; a policie to get a towne; how scipio gotte certaine castels in afrike.] simon of athens set fire in a night on a temple, whiche was out of the toune, wherefore, the tounes menne goyng to succour it, lefte the toune in praie to the enemie. some have slaine those, whiche from the besieged castle, have gone a foragyng, and have appareled their souldiours, with the apparell of the forragers, whom after have gotte the toune. the aunciente capitaines, have also used divers waies, to destroie the garison of the toune, whiche thei have sought to take. scipio beyng in africa, and desiring to gette certaine castles, in whiche were putte the garrisons of carthage, he made many tymes, as though he would assaulte theim, albeit, he fained after, not onely to abstaine, but to goe awaie from them for feare: the whiche aniball belevyng to bee true, for to pursue hym with greater force, and for to bee able more easely to oppresse him, drewe out all the garrisons of theim: the whiche scipio knowyng, sente massinissa his capitaine to overcome them. [sidenote: howe pirrus wan the chiefe citie of sclavonie; a policie to get a towne; how the beseiged are made to yelde; howe to get a towne by treason; a policie of aniball for the betraiyng of a castell; how the besieged maie be begiled; how formion overcame the calcidensians; what the besieged muste take heede of; liberalitie maketh enemies frendes; the diligence that the besieged ought to use in their watche and ward.] pirrus makyng warre in sclavonie, to the chiefe citee of the same countrie, where were brought many menne in garrison, fained to dispaire to bee able to winne it, and tourning to other places, made that the same for to succour them, emptied it self of the warde, and became easie to bee wonne. many have corrupted the water, and have tourned the rivers an other waie to take tounes. also the besieged, are easely made to yelde them selves, makyng theim afraied, with signifiyng unto them a victorie gotten, or with new aides, whiche come in their disfavour. the old capitaines have sought to gette tounes by treason, corruptyng some within, but thei have used divers meanes. sum have sente a manne of theirs, whiche under the name of a fugetive, might take aucthoritie and truste with the enemies, who after have used it to their profite. some by this meanes, have understode the maner of the watche, and by meanes of the same knowledge, have taken the toune. some with a carte, or with beames under some colour, have letted the gate, that it could not bee shutte, and with this waie, made the entrie easie to the enemie. aniball perswaded one, to give him a castle of the romaines, and that he should fain to go a huntyng in the night, makyng as though he could not goe by daie, for feare of the enemies, and tournyng after with the venison, should put in with hym certaine of his menne, and so killyng the watchmen, should give hym the gate. also the besieged are beguiled, with drawyng them out of the toune, and goyng awaie from them, faining to flie when thei assault thee. and many (emong whom was anibal) have for no other intente, let their campe to be taken, but to have occasion to get betwene theim and home, and to take their toune. also, thei are beguiled with fainyng to departe from them, as formion of athens did, who havyng spoiled the countrie of the calcidensians, received after their ambassadours, fillyng their citee with faire promises, and hope of safetie, under the which as simple menne, thei were a little after of formione oppressed. the besieged ought to beware of the men, whiche thei have in suspecte emong them: but some times thei are wont, as well to assure them selves with deserte, as with punishemente. marcellus knoweyng how lucius bancius a nolane, was tourned to favour aniball so moche humanitie and liberalitie, he used towardes him, that of an enemie, he made him moste frendely. the besieged ought to use more diligence in the warde, when the enemie is gone from theim, then when he is at hande. and thei ought to warde those places, whiche thei thinke, that maie bee hurt least: for that many tounes have been loste, when thenemie assaulteth it on thesame part, where thei beleve not possible to be assaulted. and this deceipt groweth of twoo causes, either for the place being strong, and to beleve, that it is invinsible, or through craft beyng used of the enemie, in assaltyng theim on one side with fained alaroms, and on the other without noise, and with verie assaltes in deede: and therefore the besieged, ought to have greate advertisment, and above all thynges at all times, and in especially in the night to make good watche to bee kepte on the walles, and not onely to appoincte menne, but dogges, and soche fiearse mastives, and lively, the whiche by their sente maie descrie the enemie, and with barkyng discover him: and not dogges onely, but geese have ben seen to have saved a citee, as it happened to roome, when the frenchemen besieged the capitoll. [sidenote: an order of alcibiades for the dew keping of watch and warde.] alcibiades for to see, whether the warde watched, athense beeyng besieged of the spartaines, ordained that when in the night, he should lifte up a light, all the ward should lift up likewise, constitutyng punishmente to hym that observed it not. [sidenote: the secrete conveighyng of letters; the defence against a breach; how the antiquitie got tounes by muining under grounde.] isicrates of athens killed a watchman, which slept, saiyng that he lefte him as he found him. those that have been besieged, have used divers meanes, to sende advise to their frendes: and mindyng not to send their message by mouth, thei have written letters in cifers, and hidden them in sundrie wise: the cifers be according, as pleaseth him that ordaineth them, the maner of hidyng them is divers. some have written within the scaberde of a sweard: other have put the letters in an unbaked lofe, and after have baked the same, and given it for meate to hym that caried theim. certaine have hidden them, in the secreteste place of their bodies: other have hidden them in the collor of a dogge, that is familiare with hym, whiche carrieth theim: some have written in a letter ordinarie thinges, and after betwene thone line and thother, have also written with water, that wetyng it or warming it after, the letters should appere. this waie hath been moste politikely observed in our time: where some myndyng to signifie to their freendes inhabityng within a towne, thinges to be kept secret, and mindynge not to truste any person, have sente common matters written, accordyng to the common use and enterlined it, as i have saied above, and the same have made to be hanged on the gates of the temples, the whiche by countersignes beyng knowen of those, unto whome they have been sente, were taken of and redde: the whiche way is moste politique, bicause he that carrieth them maie bee beguiled, and there shall happen hym no perill. there be moste infinite other waies, whiche every manne maie by himself rede and finde: but with more facilitie, the besieged maie bee written unto, then the besieged to their frendes without, for that soche letters cannot be sent, but by one, under colour of a fugetive, that commeth out of a toune: the whiche is a daungerous and perilous thing, when thenemie is any whit craftie: but those that sende in, he that is sente, maie under many colours, goe into the campe that besiegeth, and from thens takyng conveniente occasion, maie leape into the toune: but lette us come to speake of the present winnyng of tounes. i saie that if it happen, that thou bee besieged in thy citee, whiche is not ordained with diches within, as a little before we shewed, to mynde that thenemie shall not enter through the breach of the walle, whiche the artillerie maketh: bicause there is no remedie to lette thesame from makyng of a breache, it is therefore necessarie for thee, whileste the ordinance battereth, to caste a diche within the wall which is battered, and that it be in bredth at leaste twoo and twentie yardes and a halfe, and to throwe all thesame that is digged towardes the toun, whiche maie make banke, and the diche more deper: and it is convenient for thee, to sollicitate this worke in soche wise, that when the walle falleth, the diche maie be digged at least, fower or five yardes in depth: the whiche diche is necessarie, while it is a digging, to shutte it on every side with a slaughter house: and when the wall is so strong, that it giveth thee time to make the diche, and the slaughter houses, that battered parte, commeth to be moche stronger, then the rest of the citee: for that soche fortificacion, cometh to have the forme, of the diches which we devised within: but when the walle is weake, and that it giveth thee not tyme, to make like fortificacions, then strengthe and valiauntnesse muste bee shewed, settyng againste the enemies armed menne, with all thy force. this maner of fortificacion was observed of the pisans, when you besieged theim, and thei might doe it, bicause thei had strong walles, whiche gave them time, the yearth beyng softe and moste meete to raise up banckes, and to make fortificacions: where if thei had lacked this commoditie, thei should have loste the toune. therefore it shall bee alwaies prudently doen, to provide afore hand, makyng diches within the citee, and through out all the circuite thereof, as a little before wee devised: for that in this case, the enemie maie safely be taried for at laisure, the fortificacions beyng redy made. the antiquitie many tymes gotte tounes, with muinyng under ground in twoo maners, either thei made a waie under grounde secretely, whiche risse in the toune, and by thesame entered, in whiche maner the romaines toke the citee of veienti, or with the muinyng, thei overthrewe a walle, and made it ruinate: this laste waie is now a daies moste stronge, and maketh, that the citees placed high, be most weake, bicause thei maie better bee under muined: and puttyng after in a cave of this gunne pouder, whiche in a momente kindelyng, not onely ruinateth a wall, but it openeth the hilles, and utterly dissolveth the strength of them. [sidenote: the reamedie against caves or undermuinynges; what care the besieged ought to have; what maketh a citee or campe difficulte to bee defended; by what meanes thei that besiege ar made afraied; honour got by constancie.] the remedie for this, is to builde in the plain, and to make the diche that compasseth thy citee, so deepe, that the enemie maie not digge lower then thesame, where he shall not finde water, whiche onely is enemie to the caves: for if thou be in a toune, which thou defendest on a high ground, thou canst not remedie it otherwise, then to make within thy walles many deepe welles, the whiche be as drouners to thesame caves, that the enemie is able to ordain against thee. an other remedie there is, to make a cave againste it, when thou shouldeste bee aware where he muineth, the whiche waie easely hindereth hym, but difficultly it is foreseen, beyng besieged of a craftie enemie. he that is besieged, ought above al thinges to have care, not to bee oppressed in the tyme of reste: as is after a battaile fought, after the watche made, whiche is in the mornyng at breake of daie, and in the evenyng betwen daie and night, and above al, at meale times: in whiche tyme many tounes have been wonne, and armies have been of them within ruinated: therefore it is requisite with diligence on all partes, to stande alwaies garded, and in a good part armed. i will not lacke to tell you, how that, whiche maketh a citee or a campe difficult to be defended, is to be driven to kepe sundred all the force, that thou haste in theim, for that the enemie beyng able to assaulte thee at his pleasure altogether, it is conveniente for thee on every side, to garde every place, and so he assaulteth thee with all his force, and thou with parte of thine defendest thee. also, the besieged maie bee overcome altogether, he without cannot bee, but repulced: wherefore many, whom have been besieged, either in a campe, or in a toune, although thei have been inferiour of power, have issued out with their men at a sodaine, and have overcome the enemie. this marcellus of nola did: this did cesar in fraunce, where his campe beeyng assaulted of a moste great nomber of frenchmen, and seeyng hymself not able to defende it, beyng constrained to devide his force into many partes, and not to bee able standyng within the listes, with violence to repulce thenemie: he opened the campe on thone side, and turning towardes thesame parte with all his power, made so moche violence against them, and with moche valiantnes, that he vanquisshed and overcame them. the constancie also of the besieged, causeth many tymes displeasure, and maketh afraied them that doe besiege. pompei beyng against cesar, and cesars armie beeyng in greate distresse through famine, there was brought of his bredde to pompei, whom seyng it made of grasse, commaunded, that it should not bee shewed unto his armie, least it shoulde make them afraide, seyng what enemies they had against theim. nothyng caused so muche honour to the romaines in the warre of aniball, as their constancie: for as muche as in what so ever envious, and adverse fortune thei were troubled, they never demaunded peace, thei never made anie signe of feare, but rather when aniball was aboute rome, thei solde those fieldes, where he had pitched his campe, dearer then ordinarie in other times shoulde have been solde: and they stoode in so much obstinacie in their enterprises, that for to defende rome, thei would not raise their campe from capua, the whiche in the verie same time that roome was besieged, the romaines did besiege. i knowe that i have tolde you of manie thynges, the whiche by your selfe you might have understoode, and considered, notwithstandyng i have doen it (as to daie also i have tolde you) for to be abell to shewe you better by meane therof, the qualitie of this armie, and also for to satisfie those, if there be anie, whome have not had the same commoditie to understand them as you. nor me thinkes that there resteth other to tell you, then certaine generall rules, the whiche you shal have moste familiar, which be these. [sidenote: generall rules of warre.] the same that helpeth the enemie, hurteth thee: and the same that helpeth thee, hurteth the enemie. he that shall be in the warre moste vigilant to observe the devises of the enemie, and shall take moste payne to exercise his armie, shall incurre least perilles and maie hope moste of the victorie. never conducte thy men to faight the field, if first them hast not confirmed their mindes and knowest them to be without feare, and to be in good order: for thou oughteste never to enterprise any dangerous thyng with thy souldiours, but when thou seest, that they hope to overcome. it is better to conquere the enemie with faminne, then with yron: in the victorie of which, fortune maie doe much more then valiantnesse. no purpose is better then that, whiche is hidde from the enemie untill thou have executed it. to know in the warre how to understande occasion, and to take it, helpeth more then anie other thynge. nature breedeth few stronge menne, the industrie and the exercise maketh manie. discipline maie doe more in warre, then furie. when anie departe from the enemies side for to come to serve thee, when thei be faithfull, thei shalbe unto thee alwaies great gaines: for that the power of thadversaries are more deminisshed with the losse of them, that runne awaie, then of those that be slaine, although that the name of a fugetive be to new frendes suspected, to olde odius. better it is in pitchyng the fielde, to reserve behynde the first front aide inoughe, then to make the fronte bigger to disperse the souldiours. he is difficultely overcome, whiche can know his owne power and the same of the enemie. the valiantenesse of the souldiours availeth more then the multitude. some times the situacion helpeth more then the valiantenesse. new and sudden thynges, make armies afrayde. slowe and accustomed thinges, be littell regarded of them. therfore make thy armie to practise and to know with small faightes a new enemie, before thou come to faight the fielde with him. he that with disorder foloweth the enemie after that he is broken, will doe no other, then to become of a conquerour a loser. he that prepareth not necessarie victualles to live upon, is overcome without yron. he that trusteth more in horsemen then in footemen, more in footemen then in horsemen, must accommodate him selfe with the situacion. when thou wilte see if in the daie there be comen anie spie into the campe, cause everie man to goe to his lodgynge. chaunge purpose, when thou perceivest that the enemie hath forseene it. [sidenote: how to consulte.] consulte with many of those thinges, which thou oughtest to dooe: the same that thou wilt after dooe, conferre with fewe. souldiours when thei abide at home, are mainteined with feare and punishemente, after when thei ar led to the warre with hope and with rewarde. good capitaines come never to faight the fielde, excepte necessitie constraine theim, and occasion call them. cause that thenemies know not, how thou wilte order thy armie to faight, and in what so ever maner that thou ordainest it, make that the firste bande may be received of the seconde and of the thirde. in the faight never occupie a battell to any other thyng, then to the same, for whiche thou haste apoineted it, if thou wilt make no disorder. the sodene accidentes, with difficultie are reamedied: those that are thought upon, with facilitie. [sidenote: what thynges are the strength of the warre.] men, yron, money, and bread, be the strengthe of the warre, but of these fower, the first twoo be moste necessarie: because men and yron, finde money and breade: but breade and money fynde not men and yron. the unarmed riche man, is a bootie to the poore souldiour. accustome thy souldiours to dispise delicate livyng and lacivius aparell. this is as muche as hapneth me generally to remember you, and i know that there might have ben saied manie other thynges in all this my reasonynge: as should be, howe and in howe manie kinde of waies the antiquitie ordered their bandes, how thei appareled them, and how in manie other thynges they exercised them, and to have joygned hereunto manie other particulars, the whiche i have not judged necessarie to shew, as wel for that you your self may se them, as also for that my intente hath not been to shew juste how the olde servis of warre was apoincted, but howe in these daies a servis of warre might be ordained, whiche should have more vertue then the same that is used. wherfore i have not thought good of the auncient thynges to reason other, then that, which i have judged to suche introduction necessarie. i know also that i might have delated more upon the service on horsebacke, and after have reasoned of the warre on the sea: for as muche as he that destinguissheth the servis of warre, saieth, how there is an armie on the sea, and of the lande, on foote, and on horsebacke. of that on the sea, i will not presume to speake, for that i have no knowledge therof: but i will let the genoues, and the venecians speake therof, whome with like studies have heretofore doen great thinges. also of horses, i wil speake no other, then as afore i have saied, this parte beynge (as i have declared) least corrupted. besides this, the footemen being wel ordained, which is the puissance of the armie, good horses of necessitie will come to be made. [sidenote: provisions that maie bee made to fill a realme full of good horse; the knowledge that a capitaine oughte to have.] onely i counsel him that would ordayne the exercise of armes in his owne countrey, and desireth to fill the same with good horses, that he make two provisions: the one is, that he destribute mares of a good race throughe his dominion, and accustome his menne to make choise of coltes, as you in this countrie make of calves and mules: the other is, that to thentente the excepted might finde a byer, i woulde prohibet that no man should kepe a mule excepte he woulde keepe a horse: so that he that woulde kepe but one beaste to ride on, shoulde be constrained to keepe a horse: and moreover that no man should weare fine cloathe except he which doeth keepe a horse: this order i under stande hath beene devised of certaine princes in our time, whome in short space have therby, brought into their countrey an excellente numbre of good horses. aboute the other thynges, as much as might be looked for concernynge horse, i remit to as much as i have saied to daie, and to that whiche they use. peradventure also you woulde desire to understand what condicions a capitaine ought to have: wherof i shal satisfie you moste breeflie: for that i cannot tell how to chose anie other man then the same, who shoulde know howe to doe all those thynges whiche this daie hath ben reasoned of by us: the which also should not suffise, when he should not knowe howe to devise of him selfe: for that no man without invencion, was ever excellent in anie science: and if invencion causeth honour in other thynges, in this above all, it maketh a man honorable: for everie invention is seen, although it were but simple, to be of writers celebrated: as it is seen, where alexander magnus is praised, who for to remove his campe moste secretely, gave not warnyng with the trumpette, but with a hatte upon a launce. and was praised also for havyng taken order that his souldiours in buckelynge with the enemies, shoulde kneele with the lefte legge, to bee able more strongly to withstande their violence: the whiche havyng geven him the victorie, it got him also so muche praise, that all the images, whiche were erected in his honour, stoode after the same facion. but because it is tyme to finishe this reasonyng, i wil turne againe to my first purpose, and partly i shall avoide the same reproche, wherin they use to condempne in this towne, such as knoweth not when to make an ende. [sidenote: the auctor retorneth to his first purpose and maketh a littel discorse to make an ende of his reasonyng.] if you remembre cosimus you tolde me, that i beyng of one side an exalter of the antiquitie, and a dispraiser of those, which in waightie matters imitated them not, and of the other side, i havynge not in the affaires of war, wherin i have taken paine, imitated them, you coulde not perceive the occasion: wherunto i answered, how that men which wil doo any thing, muste firste prepare to knowe how to doe it, for to be able, after to use it, when occasion permitteth: whether i doe know how to bryng the servis of warre to the auncient manners or no, i will be judged by you, whiche have hearde me upon this matter longe dispute wherby you may know, how much time i have consumed in these studies: and also i beleeve that you maie imagen, how much desire is in me to brynge it to effecte: the whiche whether i have been able to have doen, or that ever occasion hath been geven me, most easely you maie conjecture: yet for to make you more certaine and for my better justificacion, i will also aledge the occasions: and as much as i have promised, i will partely performe, to shew you the difficultie and the facelitie, whiche bee at this presente in suche imitacions. [sidenote: a prince may easelie brynge to intiere perfection the servis of warre; two sortes of capitaines worthie to bee praysed.] therfore i saie, how that no deede that is doen now a daies emong men, is more easie to be reduced unto the aunciente maners, then the service of warre: but by them onely that be princes of so moche state, who can at least gather together of their owne subjectes, xv. or twentie thousande yong menne: otherwise, no thyng is more difficulte, then this, to them whiche have not soche commoditie: and for that you maie the better understande this parte, you have to knowe, howe that there bee of twoo condicions, capitaines to bee praised: the one are those, that with an armie ordained through the naturalle discipline thereof, have dooen greate thynges: as were the greater parte of the romaine citezeins, and suche as have ledde armies, the which have had no other paine, then to maintaine them good, and to se them guided safely: the other are they, whiche not onely have had to overcome the enemie, but before they come to the same, have been constrained to make good and well ordered their armie: who without doubte deserve muche more praise, then those have deserved, which with olde armies, and good, have valiantely wrought. of these, such wer pelopida, and epaminonda, tullus hostillius, phillip of macedony father of alexander, cirus kyng of the percians, graccus a romaine: they all were driven first to make their armies good, and after to faighte with them: they all coulde doe it, as well throughe their prudence, as also for havynge subjectes whome thei might in like exercises instruct: nor it shuld never have ben otherwise possible, that anie of theim, though they had ben never so good and ful of al excellencie, should have been able in a straunge countrey, full of men corrupted, not used to anie honest obedience, to have brought to passe anie laudable worke. it suffiseth not then in italie, to know how to governe an army made, but first it is necessarie to know how to make it and after to know how to commaunde it: and to do these things it is requisit they bee those princes, whome havyng much dominion, and subjectes inoughe, maie have commoditie to doe it: of whiche i can not bee, who never commaunded, nor cannot commaunde, but to armies of straungers, and to men bounde to other, and not to me: in whiche if it be possible, or no, to introduce anie of those thynges that this daie of me hath ben reasoned, i will leave it to your judgement. albeit when coulde i make one of these souldiours which now a daies practise, to weare more armur then the ordinarie, and besides the armur, to beare their owne meate for two or three daies, with a mattocke: when coulde i make theim to digge, or keepe theim every daie manie howers armed, in fained exercises, for to bee able after in the verie thyng in deede to prevaile? when woulde thei abstaine from plaie, from laciviousnesse, from swearynge, from the insolence, whiche everie daie they committe? when would they be reduced into so muche dissepline, into so much obedience and reverence, that a tree full of appels in the middest of their campe, shoulde be founde there and lefte untouched? as is redde, that in the auncient armies manie times hapned. what thynge maye i promis them, by meane wherof thei may have me in reverence to love, or to feare, when the warre beyng ended, they have not anie more to doe with me? wher of maie i make them ashamed, whiche be borne and brought up without shame? whie shoulde thei be ruled by me who knowe me not? by what god or by what sainctes may i make them to sweare? by those that thei worship, or by those that they blaspheme? who they worship i knowe not anie: but i knowe well they blaspheme all. how shoulde i beleeve that thei will keepe their promise to them, whome everie hower they dispise? how can they, that dispise god, reverence men? then what good fashion shoulde that be, whiche might be impressed in this matter? and if you should aledge unto me that suyzzers and spaniardes bee good souldiours, i woulde confesse unto you, how they be farre better then the italians: but if you note my reasonynge, and the maner of procedyng of bothe, you shall see, howe they lacke many thynges to joygne to the perfection of the antiquetie. and how the suyzzers be made good of one of their naturall uses caused of that, whiche to daie i tolde you: those other are made good by mean of a necessitie: for that servyng in a straunge countrie, and seemyng unto them to be constrained either to die, or to overcome, thei perceivynge to have no place to flie, doe become good: but it is a goodnesse in manie partes fawtie: for that in the same there is no other good, but that they bee accustomed to tarie the enemie at the pike and sweardes poincte: nor that, which thei lacke, no man should be meete to teache them, and so much the lesse, he that coulde not speake their language. [sidenote: the auctor excuseth the people of italie to the great reproche of their prynces for their ignorance in the affaires of warre.] but let us turne to the italians, who for havynge not had wise princes, have not taken anie good order: and for havyng not had the same necessitie, whiche the spaniardes have hadde, they have not taken it of theim selves, so that they remaine the shame of the worlde: and the people be not to blame, but onely their princes, who have ben chastised, and for their ignorance have ben justely punisshed, leesinge moste shamefully their states, without shewing anie vertuous ensample. and if you will see whether this that i say be trew: consider how manie warres have ben in italie since the departure of kyng charles to this day, where the war beyng wonte to make men warlyke and of reputacion, these the greater and fierser that they have been, so muche the more they have made the reputacion of the members and of the headdes therof to bee loste. this proveth that it groweth, that the accustomed orders were not nor bee not good, and of the newe orders, there is not anie whiche have knowen how to take them. nor never beleeve that reputacion will be gotten, by the italians weapons, but by the same waie that i have shewed, and by means of theim, that have great states in italie: for that this forme maie be impressed in simple rude men, of their owne, and not in malicious, ill brought up, and straungers. nor there shall never bee founde anie good mason, whiche will beleeve to be able to make a faire image of a peece of marbell ill hewed, but verye well of a rude peece. [sidenote: a discription of the folishenesse of the italian princes; cesar and alexander, were the formoste in battell; the venecians and the duke of ferare began to have reduced the warfare to the aunciente maners; he that despiseth the servis of warre, despiseth his own welthe.] our italian princes beleved, before thei tasted the blowes of the outlandishe warre, that it should suffice a prince to knowe by writynges, how to make a subtell answere, to write a goodly letter, to shewe in saiynges, and in woordes, witte and promptenesse, to knowe how to canvas a fraude, to decke theim selves with precious stones and gold, to slepe and to eate with greater glorie then other: to keepe many lascivious persones aboute them, to governe theim selves with their subjectes, covetuously and proudely: to rotte in idlenesse, to give the degrees of the exercise of warre, for good will, to despise if any should have shewed them any laudable waie, minding that their wordes should bee aunswers of oracles: nor the sely wretches were not aware, that thei prepared theim selves to bee a praie, to whom so ever should assaulte theim. hereby grewe then in the thousande fower hundred nintie and fower yere, the greate feares, the sodain flightes, and the marveilous losses: and so three most mightie states which were in italie, have been divers times sacked and destroied. but that which is worse, is where those that remaine, continue in the verie same erroure, and live in the verie same disorder, and consider not, that those, who in old time would kepe their states, caused to be dooen these thynges, which of me hath been reasoned, and that their studies wer, to prepare the body to diseases, and the minde not to feare perilles. whereby grewe that cesar, alexander, and all those menne and excellente princes in old tyme, were the formoste emongest the faighters, goyng armed on foote: and if thei loste their state, thei would loose their life, so that thei lived and died vertuously. and if in theim, or in parte of theim, there might bee condempned to muche ambicion to reason of: yet there shall never bee founde, that in theim is condempned any tendernesse or any thynge that maketh menne delicate and feable: the whiche thyng, if of these princes were redde and beleved, it should be impossible, that thei should not change their forme of living, and their provinces not to chaunge fortune. and for that you in the beginnyng of this our reasonyng, lamented your ordinaunces, i saie unto you, that if you had ordained it, as i afore have reasoned, and it had given of it self no good experience, you might with reason have been greved therewith: but if it bee not so ordained, and exercised, as i have saied, it maie be greeved with you, who have made a counterfaite thereof, and no perfecte figure. the venecians also, and the duke of ferare, beganne it, and followed it not, the whiche hath been through their faulte, not through their menne. and therfore i assure you, that who so ever of those, whiche at this daie have states in italie, shall enter firste into this waie, shall be firste, before any other, lorde of this province, and it shall happen to his state, as to the kyngdome of the macedonians, the which commyng under philip, who had learned the maner of settyng armies in order of epaminondas a thebane, became with this order, and with these exercises (whileste the reste of grece stoode in idlenesse, and attended to risite comedes) so puisant, that he was able in few yeres to possesse it all, and to leave soche foundacion to his sonne, that he was able to make hymself, prince of all the world. he then that despiseth these studies, if he be a prince, despiseth his princedome: if he bee a citezein, his citee. wherefore, i lamente me of nature, the whiche either ought not to have made me a knower of this, or it ought to have given me power, to have been able to have executed it: for now beyng olde, i cannot hope to have any occasion, to bee able so to dooe: in consideracion whereof, i have been liberall with you, who beeyng grave yong menne, maie (when the thynges saied of me shall please you) at due tymes in favour of your princes, helpe theim and counsaile them, wherein i would have you not to bee afraied, or mistrustfull, bicause this province seemes to bee altogether given, to raise up againe the thynges dedde, as is seen by the perfeccion that poesie, paintyng, and writing, is now brought unto: albeit, as moche as is looked for of me, beyng strooken in yeres, i do mistruste. where surely, if fortune had heretofore graunted me so moche state, as suffiseth for a like enterprise, i would not have doubted, but in moste shorte tyme, to have shewed to the worlde, how moche the aunciente orders availe: and without peradventure, either i would have increased it with glory, or loste it without shame. * * * * * the ende of the seventh and laste booke of the arte of warre, of nicholas machiavell, citezein and secretarie of florence, translated out of italian into englishe: by peter whitehorne, felow of graise inne. nicholas machiavel, citezein and secretarie of florence, to the readers to thentente that such as rede this booke maie without difficultie understande the order of the battailes, or bandes of men, and of the armies, and lodgynges in the campe, accordynge as they in the discription of theim are apoincted, i thinke it necessarie to shewe you the figure of everie one of them: wherefore it is requiset firste, to declare unto you, by what poinctes and letters, the footemen, the horsemen, and everie other particuler membre are set foorthe. know therfore that .} signifieth {targetmen. '} {pikemen. c} {a capitaine of ten men. v} {veliti ordinarie. (those men that shoot with harcabuses or bowes) r} {veliti extraordinari. c} {a centurion or captaine of a hundred men. k} {a constable or a captaine of a band of fower hundred and fiftie men. h} {the hed captain of a maine battel. g} {the general captaine of the whole armie. t} {the trompet. d} {the drum. b} {the ansigne. s} {the standerde. m} {men of armes. l} {light horsemen. a} {artillerie or ordinance. in the first figure nexte folowyng, is discribed the forme of an ordinarie battaile or bande of fower hundred and fiftie men, and in what maner it is redoubled by flanke. and also how with the verie same order of lxxx. rankes, by chaungyng onely to the hinder parte the five rankes of pikes which were the formost of everie centurie, thei maye likewise in bringyng them in battaile raie, come to bee placed behinde: whiche may be doen, when in marchyng, the enemies should come to assaulte them at their backes: accordynge as the orderyng therof is before declared. fol. . in the seconde figure, is shewed how a battaile or bande of men is ordered, whiche in marchyng should be driven to faight on the flanke: accordyng as in the booke is declared. fol. . in the thirde figure, is shewed how a battaile or bande of men, is ordered with two hornes, fol. , and after is shewed how the same maie be made with a voide place in the middest: accordynge as the orderyng therof, in the booke moste plainely is declared, fol. . in the fowerth figure, is shewed the forme or facion of an armie apoincted to faight the battaile with the enemies: and for the better understandynge thereof, the verie same is plainlier set foorthe in the figure next unto it, wherby the other two figures next folowyng maie the easier be understoode: accordynge as in the booke is expressed. fol. . in the fifte figure, is shewed the forme of a fower square armie: as in the booke is discribed. fol. . in the sixte figure, is shewed howe an armie is brought from a fower square facion, to the ordinarie forme, to faight a fielde: accordyng as afore is declared. fol. . in the seventh figure, is discribed the maner of incamping: according as the same in the booke is declared. fol. . the firste figure this is the maner of ordering of cccc. men, into lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, to bring them into a iiii square battaile with the pikes on the front, as after foloweth. c c'''' c'''' c'''' c'''' c'''' c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... c ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... c ''''c ''''c ''''c ''''c ''''c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c this is the foresaied lxxx. rankes of iiii. c. men brought into a fower square battaile with the pikes on the fronte. and the fiftie veliti on the sides and on the backe. c c vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc........dkb.......cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv c v v v v v v v v v v c the seconde figure this is the maner of ordering of cccc. men, into lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, to bring them into a iiii square battaile with the pikes on the side, as after foloweth. c ccccc ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ccccc c ccccc ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ccccc c ccccc ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ccccc c ccccc ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ccccc this is the foresaied lxxx. rankes of iiii. c. men brought into a fower square battaile with the pikes on the side. cvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvc cccccccccccccccccccc v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' cccccccccccccccccccc cvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvc the thyrde figure these are the nombers of rankes appoincted to make the horned battaile of, and the square battaile with the voide space in the middest, as after foloweth. ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... cccccccccccccccccccc.....c...............c ......................... ............... ......................... ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ......................... ......................... ............... ............... ............... ............... ...............d ...............k ...............b ............... ............... ............... ............... ......................... ......................... ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... ......................... ............... ......................... ...............ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ......................... ......................... ....... ........ ....... ........ ....... ........ ....... d ........ ....... k ........ ....... b ........ ....... ........ ....... ........ ....... ........ ....... ........ ......................... ......................... ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' the fourth figure a a a a a a llm mcrccc cu,,uccu,,uccu,,uccu,,uccu,,uca llm mrrr,,, vu,,uvvu,,uvvu,,uvvu,,uvvu,,uva llm mrrrdkb vdk bvvdk bvvdk bvvdk bvvdk bv lltksdkb,,, vc..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uv t g llm mrrr,,, vc..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uv lll ktm mrrr,,, vc..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uv .... lsm mcr(,,, cu..uccu..uccu..uccu..uccu..uc llm m ,,, llm m ,,, ..... llm m ,,, dhb llm m ,,, ..... ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, cu..uc cu..uc cu..uc ,,, vu,,uv vu,,uv vu,,uv ,,, vdk bv vdk bv vdk bv cdkbc vu..uv vu..uv vu..uv ,, vu..uv vu..uv vu..uv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv vu..uv ,,, cu..uc cu..uc cu..uc ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, cu,,uc cu,,uc ,,, vu,,uv vu,,uv ,,, vdk bv vdk bv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv dkb vu..uv vu..uv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv c c cu..uc cu..uc the cariages and the unarmed. a a a a a a a cu,,uccu,,uccu,,uccu,,uccu,,uc c ccrcm mll a vu,,uvvu,,uvvu,,uvvu,,uvvu,,uv ,,,rrrm mll m vdk bvvdk bvvdk bvvdk bvvdk bv dkbrrrm mll s vu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uv ,,,dkbm mll llvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uv ,,,rrrtksll ..vu.. vvu..uvvu..uvvu..uvvu..uv ,,,rrrm mtk cu..uccu..uc ..uccu..uccu..uc ,,,rrrm msl ,,, m mll ,,, m mll dhb ,,, m mll .... ,,, m mll ,,, ,,, ,,, cu,,uc cu,,uc cu,,uc ,,, vu,,uv uv,,uv uv,,uv ,,, vdk bv vdk bv vdk bv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv vu..uv cdkbc vu..uv vu..uv vu..uv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv vu..uv ,,, cu..uc cu..uc cu..uc ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, ,,, cu,,uc cu,,uc ,,, vu,,uv uv,,uv ,,, vdk bv vdk bv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv ,,, vu..uv vu..uv dkb vu..uv vu..uv ,,, cu..uc cu..uc c c the fift figure a ) ,,,, c) ,,,, c) ,,,, 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dkb.. .. dkb,, a ,,,,.... ....,,,, a ,,,,.... ....,,,, ) n n nc ) n n nc ) u u uc ) u u uc a ,,,,.... ....,,,, a ,,,,.... .... ....,,,, ,, dkb.. d hb .. dkb,, ,,,,.... .... .. dkb,, a ,,,,.... ....,,,, a ) n n nc ) n n nc ) ,,,, c)....c ) r) rc rc )....c)....c)....c)....c) ,,,, c u ,,,, uu....urrrrrrrrrrrru....uu....uu....uu....uu ,,,, c a u ,,,, uu....urr dkb dkb ru....uu....uu....uu....uu ,,,, u a u dkb uu dkbu rrrrrrrrrrru dkbnu dkbuu dkbuu dkbuu dkb u u ,,,, uu,,,,urr dkb dkb ru,,,,uu,,,,uu,,,,uu,,,,uu ,,,, u u ,,,, uu,,,,u rrrrrrrrrrru,,,,uu,,,,uu,,,,uu,,,,uu ,,,, u a ) ,,,, c),,,,c ) r) rc rc ),,,,u),,,,c),,,,c),,,,c) ,,,, c a mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmtksmmm mmmtksmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm a a a a a mmmmmmmm cvc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)u,,uc)u, mmmmmmmm vvvru, ,urru, ,urru, ,urru,,urru,, mmmmmmmm vvvrudkburrudkburrd k brrdk brrudk mmmtksmmmvvvru. .urru. .urru. .urru..urru.. mmmmmmmm vvvru. .ruur. .urru. .urru..urru.. mmmmmmmm vvv)u. .uc)u. .uc)u. .uc)u..uccu . mmmmmmmm vvv),,,,,c dkbr,,,...r .... .lll vvvr,dkb..r dhb . .m vvvr,,,...r .... ...t vvvr,,,...r .... vvv),,,...c vvv),,,...c vvvr,,,...r )u, ,uc )u,, )vcr,dkb .r ru. ,ur ru,, r,,,...r rudkbur ru,d r,,,...r ru. .ur ru.. r,,,...r ru. .ur ru.. ),,,...c )u. .uc )u. ),,,...c r,,,...r r,dkb..r r,,,...r r,,,...r ),,,...c ),,,...c r,,,...r )u. .uc r,dkb..r ru, ,ur r,,,...r rudkbur r,,,...r ru. .ur ),,, ..c ru. .ur ),,,...c )u. .uc r,,,...r )u. .uc r,,dkb.r r,,,...r r,,,...r ),,, ..c ),,,,,,c r,,,,,,r r, dkb,r r,,,,,,r r,,,,,,r ),,,,,,c a a a a a ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)v) mmmmmmmm ,urru, ,urru, ,urru, ,urru, ,urvvv mmmmmmmm b,rr,dkb,rr,dkb,rr,dkb,rr dkb rvvv mmmmmmmm .urru. .urru. .urru. .urru. .urvvvmmmtkfmmm .urru. .urru. .urru. .urru. .urvvv mmmmmmmm .uc)u. .uc)u. .uc)u. .uccu. .u)vvv mmmmmmmm )...,,cvvv mmmmmmmm .ll.. .... r...,,,rdkb .m. dhb r.dkb, rvvv gs.. .... r...,,,rvvv .... r...,,,rvvv )... ,,cvvv ,uc )u. .uc )... ,,cvvv ,ur ru, ,ur r...,,,rvvv kb,r r,dkb,r r.dkb, rc ) ,ur ru. .ur r...,,,r ,ur ru. .ur r...,,,r ,uc )u. .u) )... ,,c )... ,,c r...,,,r r.dkb, r r...,,,r r...,,,r )...,,,c )...,,,c )u, ,uc r...,, r ru, ,ur r.dkb, r r,dkb,r r...,,,r ru. .ur r...,,,r ru. .ur )... ,,c )u. .uc )... ,,c r...,,,r r.dkb, r r...,,,r r...,,,r )... ,,c ),,, ,,c r,,,,,,r r,dkb, r r,,,,,,r r,,,,,,r ),,, ,,c nicholas machiavel's prince translated out of italian into english by e.d. with some animadversions noting and taxing his errors to the most noble and illustrious, james duke of lenox, earle of march, baron of setrington, darnly, terbanten, and methuen, lord great chamberlain and admiral of scotland, knight of the most noble order of the garter, and one of his majesties most honourable privy counsel in both kingdomes. poysons are not all of that malignant and noxious quality, that as destructives of nature, they are utterly to be abhord; but we find many, nay most of them have their medicinal uses. this book carries its poyson and malice in it; yet mee thinks the judicious peruser may honestly make use of it in the actions of his life, with advantage. the lamprey, they say, hath a venemous string runs all along the back of it; take that out, and it is serv'd in for a choyce dish to dainty palates; epictetus the philosopher, sayes, every thing hath two handles, as the fire brand, it may be taken up at one end in the bare hand without hurt: the other being laid hold on, will cleave to the very flesh, and the smart of it will pierce even to the heart. sin hath the condition of the fiery end; the touch of it is wounding with griefe unto the soule: nay it is worse; one sin goes not alone but hath many consequences. your grace may find the truth of this in your perusal of this author: your judgement shall easily direct you in finding out the good uses of him: i have pointed at his chiefest errors with my best endeavors, and have devoted them to your graces service: which if you shall accept and protect, i shall remain your graces humble and devoted servant, edward dacres. the epistle to the reader. questionless some men will blame me for making this author speak in our vulgar tongue. for his maximes and tenents are condemnd of all, as pernicious to all christian states, and hurtfull to all humane societies. herein i shall answer for my self with the comoedian, _placere studeo bonis quam plurimis, et minimé multos lædere_: i endeavor to give content to the most i can of those that are well disposed, and no scandal to any. i grant, i find him blamed and condemned: i do no less my self. reader, either do thou read him without a prejudicate opinion, and out of thy own judgement taxe his errors; or at least, if thou canst stoop so low, make use of my pains to help thee; i will promise thee this reward for thy labor: if thou consider well the actions of the world, thou shalt find him much practised by those that condemn him; who willingly would walk as theeves do with close lanternes in the night, that they being undescried, and yet seeing all, might surprise the unwary in the dark. surely this book will infect no man: out of the wicked treasure of a mans own wicked heart, he drawes his malice and mischief. from the same flower the bee sucks honey, from whence the spider hath his poyson. and he that means well, shall be here warnd, where the deceitfull man learnes to set his snares. a judge who hath often used to examine theeves, becomes the more expert to sift out their tricks. if mischief come hereupon, blame not me, nor blame my author: lay the saddle on the right horse: but _hony soit qui mal y pense_: let shame light on him that hatcht the mischief. the prince nicholas machiavelli, to the magnificent laurence sonne to peter of medicis health. they that desire to ingratiate themselves with a prince, commonly use to offer themselves to his view, with things of that nature as such persons take most pleasure and delight in: whereupon we see they are many times presented with horses and armes, cloth of gold, pretious stones, and such like ornaments, worthy of their greatness. having then a mind to offer up my self to your magnificence, with some testimony of my service to you, i found nothing in my whole inventory, that i think better of, or more esteeme, than the knowlege of great mens actions, which i have learned by a long experience of modern affairs, and a continual reading of those of the ancients. which, now that i have with great diligence long workt it out, and throughly sifted, i commend to your magnificence. and, however i may well think this work unworthy of your view; yet such is your humanity, that i doubt not but it shall find acceptance, considering, that for my part i am not able to tender a greater gift, than to present you with the means, whereby in a very short time you may be able to understand all that, which i, in the space of many years, and with many sufferances and dangers, have made proof and gaind the knowledge of. and this work i have not set forth either with elegancy of discourse or stile, nor with any other ornament whereby to captivate the reader, as others use, because i would not have it gain its esteem from elsewhere than from the truth of the matter, and the gravity of the subject. nor can this be thought presumption, if a man of humble and low condition venture to dilate and discourse upon the governments of princes; for even as they that with their pensils designe out countreys, get themselves into the plains below to consider the nature of the mountains, and other high places above; and again to consider the plains below, they get up to the tops of the mountains; in like manner to understand the nature of the people, it is fit to be a prince; and to know well the dispositions of princes, sutes best with the understanding of a subject. your magnificence then may be pleased, to receive this small present, with the same mind that i send it; which if you shall throughly peruse and consider, you shall perceive therein that i exceedingly wish, that you may attain to that greatness, which your own fortune, and your excellent endowments promise you: and if your magnificence from the very point of your highness shall sometime cast your eyes upon these inferior places, you shall see how undeservedly i undergoe an extream and continual despight of fortune. the table of the chapters chap. . how many sorts of principalities there are, and how many wayes they are attained to, chap. . of hereditary principalities, chap. . of mixt principalities, chap. . wherefore darius his kingdome, taken by alexander, rebelled not against his successors after alexanders death, chap. . in what manner cities and principalities are to be governed, which before they were conquered, lived under their own laws, chap. . of new principalities that are conquered by ones own armes and valor, chap. . of new principalities gotten by fortune and other mens forces, chap. . concerning those who by wicked means have attaind to a principality, chap. . of the civil principality, chap. . in what manner the forces of all principalities ought to be measured, chap. . concerning ecclesiastical principalities, chap. . how many sorts of military discipline there be; and touching mercenary soldiers, chap. . of auxiliary soldiers, mixt and natives, chap. . what belongs to the prince touching military discipline, chap. . of those things in respect whereof men, and especially princes are prais'd or disprais'd, chap. . of liberality and miserableness, chap. . of cruelty and clemency, and whether it is better to be belov'd or feared, chap. . in what manner princes ought to keep their word, chap. . that princes should take a care not to incur contempt or hatred, chap. . whether the citadels and many other things, which princes make use of, are profitable or dammageable, chap. . how a prince ought to behave himself to gain reputation, chap. . touching princes secretaries, chap. . that flatterers are to be avoyded, chap. . wherefore the princes of italy have lost their states, chap. . how great power fortune hath in humane affairs, and what means there is to resist it, chap. . an exhortation to free italy from the barbarions, the prince written by nicholas machiavelli, secretary and citizen of florence. chap. i how many sorts of principalities there are, and how many wayes they are attained to. all states, all dominions that have had, or now have rule over men, have been and are, either republiques or principalities. principalities are either hereditary, whereof they of the blood of the lord thereof have long time been princes; or else they are new; and those that are new, are either all new, as was the dutchy of millan to francis sforce; or are as members adjoyned to the hereditary state of the prince that gains it; as the kingdom of naples is to the king of spain. these dominions so gotten, are accustomed either to live under a prince, or to enjoy their liberty; and are made conquest of, either with others forces, or ones own, either by fortune, or by valor. chap. ii of hereditary principalities. i will not here discourse of republiques, because i have other where treated of them at large: i will apply my self only to a principality, and proceed, while i weave this web, by arguing thereupon, how these principallities can be governed and maintained. i say then that in states of inheritance, and accustomed to the blood of their princes, there are far fewer difficulties to keep them, than in the new: for it suffices only not to transgress the course his ancestors took, and so afterward to temporise with those accidents that can happen; that if such a prince be but of ordinary industry, he shall allwaies be able to maintain himself in his state, unless by some extraordinary or excessive power he be deprived thereof; and when he had lost it, upon the least sinister chance that befalls the usurper, he recovers it again. we have in italy the duke of ferrara for example hereof, who was of ability to resist the venetians, in the year , and to withstand pope julius in the tenth for no other reason, than because he had of old continued in that rule; for the natural prince hath fewer occasions, and less heed to give offence, whereupon of necessity he must be more beloved; and unless it be that some extravagant vices of his bring him into hatred, it is agreeable to reason, that naturally he should be well beloved by his own subjects: and in the antiquity and continuation of the dominion, the remembrances and occasions of innovations are quite extinguished: for evermore one change leaves a kind of breach or dent, to fasten the building of another. chap. iii of mixt principalities. but the difficulties consist in the new principality; and first, if it be not all new, but as a member, so that it may be termed altogether as mixt; and the variations thereof proceed in the first place from a natural difficulty, which we commonly finde in all new principalities; for men do willingly change their lord, beleeving to better their condition; and this beliefe causes them to take armes against him that rules over them, whereby they deceive themselves, because they find after by experience, they have made it worse: which depends upon another natural and ordinary necessity, forcing him alwaies to offend those, whose prince he newly becomes, as well by his soldiers he is put to entertain upon them as by many other injuries, which a new conquest draws along with it; in such manner as thou findest all those thine enemies, whom thou hast endammaged in the seizing of that principality, and afterwards canst not keep them thy friends that have seated thee in it, for not being able to satisfie them according to their expectations, nor put in practice strong remedies against them, being obliged to them. for however one be very well provided with strong armies, yet hath he alwaies need of the favor of the inhabitants in the countrey, to enter thereinto. for these reasons, lewis the twelfth, king of france, suddenly took milan, and as soon lost it; and the first time lodwick his own forces served well enough to wrest it out of his hands; for those people that had opened him the gates, finding themselves deceived of their opinion, and of that future good which they had promised themselves, could not endure the distastes the new prince gave them. true it is, that countreys that have rebelled again the second time, being recovered, are harder lost; for their lord, taking occasion from their rebellion, is less respective of persons, but cares only to secure himself, by punishing the delinquents, to clear all suspicions, and to provide for himself where he thinks he is weakest: so that if to make france lose milan the first time, it was enough for duke lodwick to make some small stir only upon the confines; yet afterwards, before they could make him lose it the second time, they had need of the whole world together against him, and that all his armies should be wasted and driven out of italy; which proceeded from the forenamed causes: however though both the first and second time it was taken from him. the generall causes of the first we have treated of; it remains now that we see those of the second; and set down the remedies that he had, or any one else can have that should chance to be in those termes he was, whereby he might be able to maintain himself better in his conquest than the king of france did. i say therefore, that these states which by conquest are annexed to the ancient states of their conqueror, are either of the same province and the same language, or otherwise; and when they are, it is very easy to hold them, especially when they are not used to live free; and to enjoy them securely, it is enough to have extinguished the princes line who ruled over them: for in other matters, allowing them their ancient conditions, and there being not much difference of manners betwixt them, men ordinarily live quiet enough; as we have seen that burgundy did, britany, gascony, and normandy, which so long time continued with france: for however there be some difference of language between them, yet can they easily comport one with another; and whosoever makes the conquest of them, meaning to hold them, must have two regards; the first, that the race of their former prince be quite extinguished; the other, that he change nothing, neither in their lawes nor taxes, so that in a very short time they become one entire body with their ancient principality. but when any states are gaind in a province disagreeing in language, manners, and orders, here are the difficulties, and here is there need of good fortune, and great industry to maintain them; and it would be one of the best and livelyest remedies, for the conqueror to goe in person and dwell there; this would make the possession hereof more secure and durable; as the turk hath done in greece, who among all the other courses taken by him for to hold that state, had he not gone thither himself in person to dwell, it had never been possible for him to have kept it: for abiding there, he sees the disorders growing in their beginnings, and forthwith can remedy them; whereas being not there present, they are heard of when they are grown to some height, and then is there no help for them. moreover, the province is not pillaged by the officers thou sendest thither: the subjects are much satisfied of having recourse to the prince near at hand, whereupon have they more reason to love him, if they mean to be good; and intending to do otherwise, to fear him: and forrein princes will be well aware how they invade that state; insomuch, that making his abode there, he can very hardly lose it. another remedy, which is also a better, is to send colonies into one or two places, which may be as it were the keys of that state; for it is necessary either to do this, or to maintain there many horse and foot. in these colonies the prince makes no great expence, and either without his charge, or at a very small rate, he may both send and maintain them; and gives offence only to them from whom he takes their fields and houses, to bestow them on those new inhabitants who are but a very small part of that state; and those that he offends, remaining dispersed and poore, can never hurt him: and all the rest on one part, have no offence given them, and therefore a small matter keeps them in quiet: on the other side, they are wary not to erre, for fear it befalls not them, as it did those that were dispoild. i conclude then, that those colonies that are not chargeable, are the more trusty, give the less offence; and they that are offended, being but poor and scattered, can do but little harme, as i have said; for it is to be noted, that men must either be dallyed and flattered withall, or else be quite crusht; for they revenge themselves of small dammages; but of great ones they are not able; so that when wrong is done to any man, it ought so to be done, that it need fear no return of revenge again. but in lieu of colonies, by maintaining soldiers there, the expence is great; for the whole revenues of that state are to be spent in the keeping of it; so the conquest proves but a loss to him that hath got it, and endammages him rather; for it hurts that whole state to remove the army from place to place, of which annoyance every one hath a feeling, and so becomes enemie to thee; as they are enemies, i wis, who are outraged by thee in their own houses, whensoever they are able to do thee mischief. every way then is this guard unprofitable. besides, he that is in a different province, (as it is said) should make himself head and defender of his less powerfull neighbors, and devise alwaies to weaken those that are more mighty therein, and take care that upon no chance there enter not any foreiner as mighty as himself; for it will alwaies come to pass, that they shall be brought in by those that are discontented, either upon ambition, or fear; as the etolians brought the romans into greece; and they were brought into every countrey they came, by the natives; and the course of the matter is, that so soon as a powerfull stranger enters a countrey, all those that are the less powerfull there, cleave to him, provoked by an envy they beare him that is more mighty than they; so that for these of the weaker sort, he may easily gain them without any pains: for presently all of them together very willingly make one lump with that he hath gotten: he hath only to beware that these increase not their strengths, nor their authorities, and so he shall easily be able by his own forces, and their assistances, to take down those that are mighty, and remain himself absolute arbitre of that countrey. and he that playes not well this part, shall quickly lose what he hath gotten; and while he holds it, shall find therein a great many troubles and vexations. the romans in the provinces they seiz'd on, observed well these points, sent colonies thither, entertained the weaker sort, without augmenting any thing their power, abated the forces of those that were mighty, and permitted not any powerfull forreiner to gain too much reputation there. and i will content my self only with the countrey of greece for example hereof. the achayans and etolians were entertained by them, the macedons kingdome was brought low, antiochus was driven thence, nor ever did the achayans or etolians deserts prevail so far for them, that they would ever promise to enlarge their state, nor the perswasions of philip induce them ever to be his friends, without bringing him lower; nor yet could antiochus his power make them ever consent that he should hold any state in that countrey: for the romans did in these cases that which all judicious princes ought to do, who are not only to have regard unto all present mischiefs, but also to the future, and to provide for those with all industry; for by taking order for those when they are afarre off, it is easie to prevent them; but by delaying till they come near hand to thee, the remedy comes too late; for this malignity is grown incurable: and it befalls this, as the physicians say of the hectick feaver, that in the beginning it is easily cur'd, but hardly known; but in the course of time, not having been known in the beginning, nor cured, it becomes easie to know, but hard to cure. even so falls it out in matters of state; for by knowing it aloof off (which is given only to a wise man to do) the mischiefs that then spring up, are quickly helped; but when, for not having been perceived, they are suffered to increase, so that every one sees them, there is then no cure for them: therefore the romans, seeing these inconvenients afar off, alwaies prevented them, and never sufferd them to follow; for to escape a war, because they knew that a war is not undertaken, but deferred for anothers advantage; therefore would they rather make a war with philip and antiochus in greece, to the end it should not afterwards be made with them in italy, though for that time they were able to avoid both the one and the other, which they thought not good to do: nor did they approve of that saying that is ordinarily in the mouthes of the sages of our dayes, _to enjoy the benefits of the present time_; but that rather, to take the benefit of their valor and wisdome; for time drives forward everything, and may bring with it as well good as evil, and evil as good. but let us return to france, and examine if any of the things prescribed have been done by them: and we will speak of lewis, and not of charles, as of whom by reason of the long possession he held in italy we better knew the wayes he went: and you shall see he did the clean contrary to what should have been done by him that would maintain a state of different language and conditions. king lewis was brought into italy by the venetians ambition, who would have gotten for their shares half the state of lombardy: i will not blame his comming, or the course he took, because he had a mind to begin to set a foot in italy; but having not any friends in the country, all gates being barred against him, by reason of king charles his carriage there, he was constrained to joyn friendship with those he could; and this consideration well taken, would have proved lucky to him, when in the rest of his courses he had not committed any error. the king then having conquered lombardy, recovered presently all that reputation that charles had lost him; genua yeelded to him, the florentines became friends with him; the marquess of mantua, the duke of ferrara, the bentivolti, the lady of furli, the lord of faenza, pesaro rimino, camerino, and piombino, the lucheses, pisans and sienses, every one came and offered him friendship: then might the venetians consider the rashness of the course they had taken, who, only to get into their hands two townes in lombardy, made the king lord of two thirds in italy. let any man now consider with how small difficulty could the king have maintained his reputation in italy, if he had followed these aforenamed rules, and secured and defended those his friends, who because their number was great, and they weak and fearful, some of the church, and others of the venetians were alwaies forced to hold with him, and by their means he might easily have been able to secure himself against those that were mightiest: but he was no sooner got into milan, than he took a quite wrong course, by giving ayd to pope alexander, to seize upon romania, and perceiv'd not that by this resolution he weakned himself, ruining his own friends, and those had cast themselves into his bosom, making the church puissant, by adding to their spiritual power, they gaind their authority, and so much temporal estate. and having once got out of the way, he was constrained to go on forward; insomuch as to stop alexanders ambition, and that he should not become lord of all tuscany, of force he was to come into italy: and this sufficed him not, to have made the church mighty, and taken away his own friends; but for the desire he had to get the kingdome of naples, he divided it with the king of spain: and where before he was the sole arbitre of italy, he brought in a competitor, to the end that all the ambitious persons of that country, and all that were ill affected to him, might have otherwhere to make their recourse: and whereas he might have left in that kingdome some vice-king of his own, he took him from thence, to place another there, that might afterward chace him thence. it is a thing indeed very natural and ordinary, to desire to be of the getting hand: and alwaies when men undertake it, if they can effect it, they shall be prais'd for it, or at least not blam'd: but when they are not able, and yet will undertake it, here lies the blame, here is the error committed. if france then was able with her own power to assail the kingdome of naples, she might well have done it; but not being able, she should not have divided it: and if the division she made of lombardy with the venetians, deserv'd some excuse, thereby to set one foot in italy; yet this merits blame, for not being excused by that necessity. lewis then committed these five faults; extinguisht the feebler ones, augmented the state of another that was already powerful in italy, brought thereinto a very puissant forreiner, came not thither himself to dwell there, nor planted any colonies there: which faults while he liv'd, he could not but be the worse for; yet all could not have gone so ill, had he not committed the sixt, to take from the venetians their state; for if he had not enlarg'd the churches territories nor brought the spaniard into italy, it had bin necessary to take them lower; but having first taken those other courses, he should never have given way to their destruction; for while they had been strong, they would alwaies have kept the others off from venturing on the conquest of lombardy. for the venetians would never have given their consents thereto, unless they should have been made lords of it themselves; and the others would never have taken it from france, to give it them: and then they would never have dar'd to go and set upon them both together. and if any one should say, that king lewis yeelded romania to alexander, and the kingdome of naples to spain, to avoid a war; i answer with the reasons above alledged, that one should never suffer any disorder to follow, for avoiding of a war; for that war is not sav'd, but put off to thy disadvantage. and if any others argue, that the king had given his word to the pope, to do that exploit for him, for dissolving of his marriage, and for giving the cardinals cap to him of roan; i answer with that which hereafter i shall say touching princes words, how they ought to be kept. king lewis then lost lombardy, for not having observ'd some of those termes which others us'd, who have possessed themselves of countries, and desir'd to keep them. nor is this any strange thing, but very ordinary and reasonable: and to this purpose i spake at nantes with that french cardinal, when valentine (for so ordinarily was cæsar borgia pope alexanders son call'd) made himself master of romania; for when the cardinal said to me, that the italians understood not the feats of war; i answered, the frenchmen understood not matters of state: for had they been well vers'd therein, they would never have suffer'd the church to have grown to that greatness. and by experience we have seen it, that the power hereof in italy, and that of spain also, was caused by france, and their own ruine proceeded from themselves. from whence a general rule may be taken, which never, or very seldom fails, _that he that gives the means to another to become powerful, ruines himself_; for that power is caus'd by him either with his industry, or with his force; and as well the one as the other of these two is suspected by him that is grown puissant. chap. iv wherefore darius his kingdome taken by alexander, rebelled not against alexanders successors after his death. the difficulties being consider'd, which a man hath in the maintaining of a state new gotten, some might marvaile how it came to pass, that alexander the great subdued all asia in a few years; and having hardly possessed himself of it, died; whereupon it seemed probable that all that state should have rebelled; nevertheless his successors kept the possession of it, nor found they other difficulty in holding it, than what arose among themselves through their own ambition. i answer, that all the principalities whereof we have memory left us, have been governed in two several manners; either by a prince, and all the rest vassals, who as ministers by his favor and allowance, do help to govern that kingdom; or by a prince and by barons, who not by their princes favor, but by the antiquity of blood hold that degree. and these kinds of barons have both states of their own, and vassals who acknowledge them for their lords; and bare them a true natural affection. those states that are govern'd by a prince and by vassals, have their prince ruling over them with more authority; for in all his countrey, there is none acknowledged for superior, but himself: and if they yeeld obedience to any one else, it is but as to his minister and officer, nor beare they him any particular good will. the examples of these two different governments now in our dayes, are, the turk, and the king of france. the turks whole monarchy is govern'd by one lord, and the rest are all his vassals; and dividing his whole kingdom into divers sangiacques or governments, he sends several thither, and those he chops and changes, as he pleases. but the king of france is seated in the midst of a multitude of lords, who of old have been acknowledg'd for such by their subjects, and being belov'd by them, enjoy their preheminencies; nor can the king take their states from them without danger. he then that considers the one and the other of these two states, shall find difficulty in the conquest of the turks state; but when once it is subdu'd, great facility to hold it. the reasons of these difficulties in taking of the turks kingdom from him, are, because the invader cannot be called in by the princes of that kingdom, nor hope by the rebellion of those which he hath about him, to be able to facilitate his enterprize: which proceeds from the reasons aforesaid; for they being all his slaves, and oblig'd to him, can more hardly be corrupted; and put case they were corrupted, little profit could he get by it, they not being able to draw after them any people, for the reasons we have shewed: whereupon he that assails the turk, must think to find him united; and must rather relie upon his own forces, than in the others disorders: but when once he is overcome and broken in the field, so that he cannot repair his armies, there is nothing else to be doubted than the royal blood, which being once quite out, there is none else left to be feard, none of the others having any credit with the people. and as the conqueror before the victory could not hope in them; so after it, ought he not to fear them. the contrary falls out in kingdoms governed as is that of france: for it is easie to be enterd by the gaining of any baron in the kingdom; for there are alwaies some malecontents to be found, and those that are glad of innovation. those for the reasons alledg'd are able to open thee a way into that state, and to further thy victory, which afterwards to make good to thee, draws with it exceeding many difficulties, as well with those that have ayded thee, as those thou hast supprest. nor is it enough for thee to root out the princes race: for there remaine still those lords who quickly will be the ring-leaders of new changes; and in case thou art not able to content these, nor extinguish them, thou losest that state, whensoever the occasion is offerd. now if thou shalt consider what sort of government that of darius was, thou shalt find it like to the turks dominion, and therefore alexander was necessitated first to defeat him utterly, and drive him out of the field; after which victory darius being dead, that state was left secure to alexander, for the reasons we treated of before: and his successors, had they continued in amity, might have enjoy'd it at ease: nor ever arose there in that kingdome other tumults, than those they themselves stir'd up. but of the states that are order'd and grounded as that of france, it is impossible to become master at such ease: and from hence grew the frequent rebellions of spain, france, and greece against the romans, by reason of the many principalities those states had: whereof while the memory lasted, the romans were alwayes doubtfull of the possession of them; but the memory of them being quite wip't out, by the power and continuance of the empire, at length they enjoy'd it securely; and they also were able afterwards fighting one with another, each of one them to draw after them the greater part of those provinces, according as their authority had gain'd them credit therein: and that because the blood of their ancient lords was quite spent, they acknowledg'd no other but the romans. by the consideration then of these things, no man will marvaile that alexander had so little trouble to keep together the state of asia; and that others have had such great difficulties to maintain their conquest, as pyrrhus, and many others; which proceeds not from the small or great valour of the conquerour, but from the difference of the subject. chap. v in what manner cities and principalities are to be govern'd, which, before they were conquer'd, liv'd under their own laws. when those states that are conquered, as it is said, have been accustomed to live under their own laws, and in liberty, there are three wayes for a man to hold them. the first is to demolish all their strong places; the other, personally to goe and dwell there; the third, to suffer them to live under their own laws, drawing from them some tribute, and creating therein an oligarchy, that may continue it in thy service: for that state being created by that prince, knowes it cannot consist without his aid and force, who is like to doe all he can to maintain it; and with more facility is a city kept by meanes of her own citizens, which hath been us'd before to live free, than by any other way of keeping. we have for example the spartans and the romans; the spartans held athens and thebes, creating there an oligarchy: yet they lost it. the romans to be sure of capua, carthage, and numantia, dismantell'd them quite, and so lost them not: they would have kept greece as the spartans had held them, leaving them free, and letting them enjoy their own laws; and it prospered not with them: so that they were forc'd to deface many cities of that province to hold it. for in truth there is not a surer way to keep them under, than by demolishments; and whoever becomes master of a city us'd to live free, and dismantells it not, let him look himselfe to bee ruin'd by it; for it alwayes in time of rebellion takes the name of liberty for refuge, and the ancient orders it had; which neither by length of time, nor for any favours afforded them, are ever forgotten; and for any thing that can be done, or order'd, unlesse the inhabitants be disunited and dispers'd, that name is never forgotten, nor those customes: but presently in every chance recourse is thither made: as pisa did after so many yeeres that she had been subdu'd by the florentines. but when the cities or the provinces are accustomed to live under a prince, and that whole race is quite extirpated: on one part being us'd to obey; on the other, not having their old prince; they agree not to make one from among themselves: they know not how to live in liberty, in such manner that they are much slower to take armes; and with more facility may a prince gaine them, and secure himselfe of them. but in republiques there is more life in them, more violent hatred, more earnest desire of revenge; nor does the remembrance of the ancient liberty ever leave them, or suffer them to rest; so that the safest way, is, either to ruine them, or dwell among them. chap. vi of new principalities, that are conquer'd by ones own armes and valour. let no man marvaile, if in the discourse i shall make of new principalities, both touching a prince, and touching a state, i shall alledge very famous examples: for seeing men almost alwayes walk in the pathes beaten by others, and proceed in their actions by imitation; and being that others wayes cannot bee exactly follow'd, nor their vertues, whose patterne thou set'st before thee, attain'd unto; a wise man ought alwayes to tread the footsteps of the worthiest persons, and imitate those that have been the most excellent: to the end that if his vertue arrive not thereto, at least it may yeeld some favour thereof, and doe as good archers use, who thinking the place they intend to hit, too farre distant, and knowing how farr the strength of their bow will carry, they lay their ayme a great deale higher than the mark; not for to hit so high with their arrow, but to bee able with the help of so high an aime to reach the place they shoot at. i say, that in principalities wholly new, where there is a new prince, there is more and lesse difficulty in maintaining them, as the vertue of their conquerour is greater or lesser. and because this successe, to become a prince of a private man, presupposes either vertue, or fortune; mee thinks the one and other of these two things in part should mitigate many difficulties; however he that hath lesse stood upon fortune, hath maintain'd himselfe the better. moreover it somewhat facilitates the matter in that the prince is constrain'd, because he hath not other dominions, in person to come and dwell there. but to come to these who by their own vertues, and not by fortune, attain'd to be princes; the excellentest of these are moses, cyrus, romulus, theseus, and such like; and though of moses we are not to reason, he onely executing the things that were commanded him by god; yet merits he well to be admir'd, were it only for that grace that made him worthy to converse with god. but considering cyrus, and the others, who either got or founded kingdomes, we shall find them all admirable; and if there particular actions and lawes be throughly weigh'd, they will not appeare much differing from those of moyses, which he receiv'd from so sovraigne an instructer. and examining their lives and actions, it will not appeare, that they had other help of fortune, than the occasion, which presented them with the matter wherein they might introduce what forme they then pleas'd; and without that occasion, the vertue of their mind had been extinguish'd; and without that vertue, the occasion had been offer'd in vaine. it was then necessary for moses to find the people of israel slaves in Ægypt, and oppress'd by the Ægyptians, to the end that they to get out of their thraldome, should bee willing to follow him. it was fit that romulus should not be kept in albia, but expos'd presently after his birth, that he might become king of rome, and founder of that city. there was need that cyrus should find the persians discontented with the medes government, and the medes delicate and effeminate through their long peace. theseus could not make proof his vertue, had not he found the athenians dispers'd. these occasions therefore made these men happy, and their excellent vertue made the occasion be taken notice of, whereby their countrey became enobled, and exceeding fortunate. they, who by vertuous waies, like unto these, become princes, attain the principality with difficulty, but hold it with much ease; and the difficulties they find in gaining the principality, arise partly from the new orders and courses they are forc'd to bring in, to lay the foundation of their state, and work their own security. and it is to be consider'd, how there is not any thing harder to take in hand, nor doubtfuller to succeed, nor more dangerous to mannage, than to be the chief in bringing in new orders; for this chief finds all those his enemies, that thrive upon the old orders; and hath but luke warme defenders of all those that would do well upon the new orders, which luke-warme temper proceeds partly from fear of the opposers who have the laws to their advantage; partly from the incredulity of the men who truly beleeve not a new thing, unless there be some certain proof given them thereof. whereupon it arises, that whensoever they that are adversaries, take the occasion to assayle, they do it factiously; and these others defend but cooly, so that their whole party altogether runs a hazzard. therefore it is necessary, being we intend throughly to discourse this part, to examine if these innovators stand of themselves, or if they depend upon others; that is, if to bring their work to effect, it be necessary they should intreat, or be able to constrain; in the first case they allwayes succeed ill, and bring nothing to pass; but when they depend of themselves, and are able to force, then seldom it is that they hazzard. hence came it that all the prophets that were arm'd, prevail'd; but those that were unarm'd, were too weak: for besides what we have alledg'd, the nature of the people is changeable, and easie to be perswaded to a matter; but it is hard also to settle them in that perswasion. and therefore it behoves a man to be so provided, that when they beleeve no longer, he may be able to compel them thereto by force. moses, cyrus, theseus, and romulus would never have been able to cause their laws to be obey'd, had they been disarm'd; as in our times it befel fryer jerome savanarola, who perished in his new constitutions, when the multitude began not to beleeve him; neither had he the means to keep them firme, that had beleev'd; not to force beleefe in them that had not beleev'd him. wherefore such men as these, in their proceedings find great difficulty, and all their dangers are in the way, and these they must surmount by their vertue; but having once master'd them, and beginning to be honored by all, when they have rooted those out that envi'd their dignities, they remain powerful, secure, honorable, and happy. to these choice examples, i will add one of less remark; but it shall hold some proportion with them, and this shall suffice me for all others of this kind, which is hiero the siracusan. he of a private man, became prince of siracusa, nor knew he any other ayd of fortune than the occasion: for the siracusans being oppress'd, made choyce of him for their captain, whereupon he deserv'd to be made their prince: and he was of such vertue even in his private fortune, that he who writes of him, sayes, he wanted nothing of reigning, but a kingdom; this man extinguish'd all the old soldiery, ordaind the new; left the old allyances, entertained new; and as he had friendship, and soldiers that were his own, upon that ground he was able to build any edifice; so that he indured much trouble in gaining, and suffered but little in maintaining. chap. vii of new principalities, gotten by fortune, and other mens forces. they who by fortune only become princes of private men, with small pains attain to it, but have much ado to maintain themselves in it; and find no difficulty at all in the way, because they are carried thither with wings: but all the difficulties arise there, after they are plac'd in them. and of such sort are those who have an estate given them for money, by the favor of some one that grants it them: as it befell many in greece, in the cities of jonia, and hellespont; where divers princes were made by darius, as well for his own safety as his glory; as also them that were made emperors; who from private men by corrupting the soldiers, attaind to the empire. these subsist meerly upon the will, and fortune of those that have advanced them; which are two voluble and unsteady things; and they neither know how, nor are able to continue in that dignity: they know not how, because unless it be a man of great understanding and vertue, it is not probable that he who hath always liv'd a private life, can know how to command: neither are they able, because they have not any forces that can be friendly or faithful to them. moreover those states that suddenly fall into a mans hands, as all other things in nature that spring and grow quickly, cannot well have taken root, nor have made their correspondencies so firm, but that the first storm that takes them, ruines them; in case these, who (as it is said) are thus on a sudden clambred up to be princes, are not of that worth and vertue as to know how to prepare themselves to maintain that which chance hath cast into their bosoms, and can afterwards lay those foundations, which others have cast before they were princes. for the one and the other of these wayes about the attaining to be a prince, by vertue, or by fortune, i will alledge you two examples which have been in the dayes of our memory. these were francis sforza, and cæsar borgia; francis by just means and with a great deal of vertue, of a private man got to be duke of millan; and that which with much pains he had gaind, he kept with small ado. on the other side cæesar borgia (commonly termed duke valentine) got his state by his fathers fortune, and with the same lost it; however that for his own part no pains was spar'd, nor any thing omitted, which by a discreet and valorus man ought to have been done, to fasten his roots in those estates, which others armes or fortune had bestowed on him; for (as it was formerly said) he that lays not the foundations first, yet might be able by means of his extraordinary vertues to lay them afterwards, however it be with the great trouble of the architect, and danger of the edifice. if therefore we consider all the dukes progresses, we may perceive how great foundations he had cast for his future power, which i judge a matter not superfluous to run over; because i should not well know, what better rules i might give to a new prince, than the pattern of his actions; and however the courses he took, availd him not, yet was it not his fault, but it proceeded from an extraordinary and extream malignity of fortune. pope alexander the sixt, desiring to make the duke his son a great man, had a great many difficulties, present and future: first he saw no way there was whereby he might be able to make him lord of any state, that was not the churches; and if he turnd to take that from the church, he knew that the duke of milan, and the venetians would never agree to it; for faenza and riminum were under the venetians protection. moreover, he saw that the armes of italy, and those whereof in particular he might have been able to make some use, were in their hands, who ought to fear the popes greatness; and therefore could not any wayes rely upon them: being all in the orsins and colonies hands, and those of their faction. it was necessary then, that those matters thus appointed by them should be disturbed, and the states of italy disordered, to be able safely to master part of them, which he then found easie to do, seeing the venetians upon three considerations had us'd the means to bring the french men back again into italy: which he not only did not withstand, but furthered, with a resolution of king lewis his ancient marriage. the king then past into italy with the venetians ayd, and alexanders consent; nor was he sooner arrived in milan, than the pope had soldiers from him for the service of romania, which was quickly yeelded up to him upon the reputation of the kings forces. the duke then having made himself master of romania, and beaten the colonies, desiring to hold it, and proceed forward, two things hindered him: the one, his own soldiers, which he thought were not true to him; the other, the french mens good wills; that is to say, he feared that the princes soldiers, whereof he had served himself, would fail him, and not only hinder his conquest, but take from him what he had gotten; and that the king also would serve him the same turn. he had experience of the orsini upon an occasion, when after the taking of faenza he assaulted bolonia, to which assault he saw them go very cold. and touching the king, he discovered his mind, when having taken the dutchy of urbin, he invaded tuscany; from which action the king made him retire; whereupon the duke resolved to depend no more upon fortune, and other mens armes. and the first thing he did, was, to weaken the orsini, and colonnies factions in rome: for he gain'd all their adherents that were gentlemen, giving them large allowances, and honoring them according to their qualities with charges and governments; so that in a few months the good will they bare to the parties was quite extinguisht, and wholly bent to the duke. after this, he waited an occasion to root out the orsini, having before dispersed those of the family of colonnia, which fell out well to his hand; and he us'd it better. for the orsini being too late aware, that the dukes and the churches greatness was their destruction, held a council together in a dwelling house of theirs in the country adjoyning to perusia. from thence grew the rebellion of urbin, and the troubles of romania, and many other dangers befell the duke, which he overcame all with the help of the french: and having regained his reputation, trusting neither france, nor any forrein forces, to the end he might not be put to make trial of them again, he betook himself to his sleghts; and he knew so well to disguise his intention, that the orsins, by the mediation of paul orsine, were reconciled to him, to whom the duke was no way wanting in all manner of courtesies whereby to bring them into security, giving them rich garments, money, and horses, til their own simplicities led them all to sinigallia, into his hands. these heads being then pluck'd off, and their partisans made his friends; the duke had laid very good foundations, to build his own greatness on, having in his power all romania with the dutchy of urbin, and gained the hearts of those people, by beginning to give them some relish of their well being. and because this part is worthy to be taken notice of, and to be imitated by others, i will not let it escape. the duke, when he had taken romania, finding it had been under the hands of poor lords who had rather pillag'd their subjects, than chastis'd or amended them, giving them more cause of discord, than of peace and union, so that the whole countrey was fraught with robberies, quarrels, and other sorts of insolencies; thought the best way to reduce them to termes of pacification, and obedience to a princely power, was, to give them some good government: and therefore he set over them one remiro d'orco, a cruel hasty man, to whom he gave an absolute power. this man in a very short time setled peace and union amongst them with very great reputation. afterwards the duke thought such excessive authority serv'd not so well to his purpose, and doubting it would grow odious, he erected a civil judicature in the midst of the countrey, where one excellent judge did preside, and thither every city sent their advocate: and because he knew the rigors past had bred some hatred against him, to purge the minds of those people, and to gain them wholly to himself, he purpos'd to shew, that if there was any cruelty used, it proceeded not from any order of his, but from the harsh disposition of his officers. whereupon laying hold on him, at this occasion, he caus'd his head to be struck off one morning early in the market place at cesena, where he was left upon a gibbet, with a bloody sword by his side; the cruelty of which spectacle for a while satisfied and amaz'd those people. but to return from whence we have digressd: i say, that the duke finding himself very strong, and in part out of doubt of the present dangers, because he was arm'd after his own manner, and had in some good measure suppress'd those forces, which, because of their vicinity, were able to annoy him, he wanted nothing else to go on with his conquest, but the consideration of france: for he knew, that the king, who now, though late, was advis'd of his error, would never suffer him: and hereupon he began to seek after new allyances, and to waver with france, when the french came towards naples against the spaniards, who then besieged gagetta; and his design was only to be out of their danger, which had been effected for him, had pope alexander lived. and thus were his businesses carried touching his present estate. as for the future, he had reason to doubt lest the new successor to the papacy would not be his friend, and would endeavor to take that from him that alexander had bestowed on him; and he thought to provide for this foure waies: first by rooting out the races of all those lords he had dispoyled, whereby to take those occasions from the pope. secondly, by gaining all the gentlemen of rome, whereby he might be able with those to keep the pope in some awe. thirdly, to make the colledge of cardinals as much at his devotion as possibly might be. fourthly, by making of so large conquests, before the popes death, as that he might be able of himself to withstand the first fury of his enemies. three of these fowre at pope alexanders death he had effected, and the fourth he had neare brought to a point. for of those lords he had stript, he put to death as many as he could come at, and very few escap'd him: he gaind him the roman gentlemen: and in the colledge he had made a great faction. and touching his new conquest, he had a designe to become lord of tuscany. and he had possessed himself already of perusia, and pombin, and taken protection of pisa: and so soon as he should have cast off his respect to france (which now he meant to hold no longer) being the french were now driven out of the kingdome of naples by the spaniards, so that each of them was forc'd to buy his friendship at any termes; he was then to leap into pisa. after this lucca and siena were presently to fall to him, partly for envy to the florentines, and partly for fear. the florentines had no way to escape him: all which, had it succeeded with him, as without question it had, the very same year that alexander dy'd, he had made himself master of so great forces, and such reputation, that he would have been able to have stood upon his own bottom, without any dependance of fortune, or resting upon others helps, but only upon his own strength and valor. but alexander dy'd five years after that he had begun to draw forth his sword: and left him setled only in the state of romania, with all his other designes in the ayre, sick unto death, between two very strong armies of his enemies; and yet was there in this duke such a spirit and courage; and he understood so well, how men are to be gaind, and how to be lost, and so firm were the grounds he had laid in a short time, that, had he not had those armies upon his back, or had been in health, he would have carried through his purpose in spight of all opposition; and that the foundations he grounded upon were good, it appeard in that romania held for him above a moneth, and he remained secure in rome, though even at deaths doore: and however the baglioni, vitelli, and orsini came into rome; yet found they none would take their parts against him. and this he was able to have effected, that if he could not have made him pope whom be would, he could have hindred him that he would not should be pope. but had he been in health when alexander dy'd, every thing had gone easily with him; and he told me on that day that julius the second was created pope, that he had fore-thought on all that which could happen, in case his father chanc'd to dye, and for every thing provided its remedy, this onely excepted, that he foresaw not that he should at the same time be brought unto deaths dore also. having then collected all the dukes actions, me thinks i could not well blame him, but rather (as i have here done) set him as a pattern to be followed by all those who by fortune and others armes have been exalted to an empire. for he being of great courage, and having lofty designes, could not carry himself otherwise; and the only obstacle of his purposes was the brevity of alexanders life, and his own sickness. whoever therefore deemes it necessary in his entrance into a new principality, to secure himself of his enemies, and gain him friends, to overcome either by force or by cunning, to make himself beloved, or feared of his people, be followed and reverenced by his soldiers, to root out those that can, or owe thee any hurt, to change the ancient orders with new wayes, to be severe, and yet acceptable, magnanimous, and liberall; to extinguish the unfaithfull soldiery, and create new; to maintain to himself the armities of kings and princes, so that they shall either with favor benefit thee, or be wary how to offend thee; cannot find more fresh and lively examples than the actions of this man. he deserves to be found fault withall for the creation of julius the second, wherein an evil choice was made for him: for, as it is said, not being able to make a pope to his mind, he could have withheld any one from being pope; and should never have consented that any one of those cardinals should have got the papacy, whom he had ever done harme to; or who having attaind the pontificate were likely to be afraid of him: because men ordinarily do hurt either for fear, or hatred. those whom he had offended, were among others, he who had the title of st. peter ad vincula, colonna, st. george, and ascanius; all the others that were in possibility of the popedome, were such as might have feard him rather, except the cardinal of roan, and the spaniards; these by reason of their allyance and obligation with him, the other because of the power they had, having the kingdome of france on their party; wherefore the duke above all things should have created a spanyard pope, and in case he could not have done that, he should have agreed that roan should have been, and not st. peter ad vincula. and whoever beleeves, that with great personages new benefits blot on the remembrance of old injuries, is much deceiv'd. the duke therefore in this election, was the cause of his own ruine at last. till wee come to this seaventh chapter, i find not any thing much blame-worthy, unlesse it be on ground he layes in the second chapter; whereupon hee builds most of this fabrick, viz. that subjects must either be dallyed or flatterd withall, or quite crusht. whereby our author advises his prince to support his authority with two cardinall vertues, dissimulation, and cruelty. he considers not herein that the head is but a member of the body, though the principall; and the end of the parts is the good of the whole. and here he goes against himselfe in the twenty sixt chapter of his rep. . . where hee blames philip of macedon for such courses, terming them very cruell, and against all christian manner of living; and that every man should refuse to be a king, and desire rather to live a private life, than to reigne so much to the ruine of mankind. the life of cæsar borgia, which is here given as a paterne to new princes, we shall find to have been nothing else but a cunning carriage of things so, that he might thereby first deceive and inveigle, and then suppresse all those that could oppose or hinder his ambition. for if you runne over his life, you shall see the father pope alexander the sixt and him, both imbarqued for his advancement, wherein they engag'd the papall authority, and reputation of religion; for faith and conscience these men never knew, though they exacted it of others: there was never promise made, but it was only so farre kept as servd for advantage; liberality was made use of: clemency and cruelty, all alike, as they might serve to worke with their purposes. all was sacrific'd to ambition; no friendship could tye these men, nor any religion: and no marvell: for ambition made them forget both god and man. but see the end of all this cunning: though this cæsar borgia contrived all his businesse so warily, that our author much commends him, and hee had attaind neere the pitch of his hopes, and had provided for each misadventure could befall him its remedy; policy shewd it selefe short-sighted; for hee foresaw not at the time of his fathers death, he himself should bee brought unto deaths doore also. and me thinks this example might have given occasion to our author to confesse, that surely there is a god that ruleth the earth. and many times god cutts off those cunning and mighty men in the hight of their purposes, when they think they have neare surmounted all dangers and difficulties. 'to the intent that the living may know, that the most high ruleth in the kingdome of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will, and setteth up over it the basest of men.' daniel. . . chap. viii concerning those who by wicked meanes have attaind to a principality. but because a man becomes a prince of a private man two wayes, which cannot wholly be attributed either to fortune or vertue, i think not fit to let them passe me: howbeit the one of them may be more largely discoursed upon, where the republicks are treated of. these are, when by some wicked and unlawfull meanes a man rises to the principality; or when a private person by the favour of his fellow citizens becomes prince of his countrey. and speaking of the first manner, it shall be made evident by two examples, the one ancient, the other moderne, without entring otherwise into the justice or merit of this part; for i take it that these are sufficient for any body that is forc'd to follow them. agathocles the sicilian, not of a private man onely, but from a base and abject fortune, got to be king of siracusa. this man borne but of a potter, continued alwayes a wicked life throughout all the degrees of this fortune: neverthelesse he accompanied his lewdnesse with such a courage and resolution, that applying himselfe to military affaires, by the degrees thereof he attained to bee prætour of siracusa, and being setled in that degree, and having determined that he would become prince, and hold that by violence and without obligation to any other, which by consent had been granted him: and to this purpose haveing had some private intelligence touching his designe with amilcar the carthaginian, who was imployd with his army in sicily, one morining gatherd the people together and the senate of syracusa, as if he had some what to advise with them of matters belonging to the commonwealth, and upon a signe given, caus'd his souldiers to kill his senatours, and the richest of the people; who being slaine, he usurp'd the principality of that city without any civill strife: and however he was twice broken by the carthaginians, and at last besieged, was able not onely to defend his own city, but leaving part of his own army at the defence thereof, with the other invaded affrique, and in a short time freed siracusa from the siege, and brought the carthaginians into extreme necessity, who were constraind to accord with him, be contented with the possession of affrique, and quitt sicily to agathocles. he then that should consider the actions and valour of this man, would not see any, or very few things to be attributed unto fortune; seeing that as is formerly sayd, not by any ones favour, but by the degrees of service in warre with many sufferings and dangers, to which he had risen, he came to the principality; and that hee maintained afterwards with so many resolute and hazardous undertakings. yet cannot this be term'd vertue or valour to slay his own citizens, betray his friends, to be without faith, without pitty, without religion, which wayes are of force to gaine dominion, but not glory: for if agathocles his valour bee well weighd, in his enturing upon, and comming off from dangers, and the greatnesse of his courage, in supporting and mastering of adversities, no man can see why he should be thought any way inferiour even to the ablest captaines. notwithstanding his beastly cruelty and inhumanity with innumerable wickednesses, allow not that he should be celebrated among the most excellent men. that cannot then be attributed to fortune or vertue, which without the one or the other was attaind to by him. in our dayes, while alexander the sixth held the sea, oliverotte of fermo, who some few yeeres before had been left young by his parents, was brought up under the care of an uncle of his on the mothers side, called john foliani, and in the beginning of his youth given, by him to serve in the warres under paulo vitelli: to the end that being well instructed in that discipline, he might rise to some worthy degree in the warrs. afterwards when paulo was dead, he served under vitellozzo his brother, and in very short time, being ingenious, of a good personage, and brave courage, he became one of the prime men among the troops he served in: but thinking it but servile to depend upon another, he plotted by the ayd of some citizens of fermo (who lik'd rather the thraldome of their city than the liberty of it) and by the favour of the vitelli, to make himselfe master of fermo; and writ to john foliani, that having been many yeeres from home, he had a mind to come and see him and the city, and in some part take notice of his own patrimony; and because he had not imployd himselfe but to purchase honour, to the end his citizens might perceive, that he had not vainely spent his time, he had a desire to come in good equipage and accompanied with a hundred horse of his friends and servants; and he intreated him that he would be pleasd so to take order, that he might be honourably received by the inhabitants of fermo, which turnd as well to his honor that was his uncle, as his that was the nephew. in this, john faild not in any office of courtesie due to his nephew: and caused him to be well receivd by them of fermo, and lodged him in his own house: where having passed some dayes, and stayd to put in order somewhat that was necessary for his intended villany, he made a very solemne feast, whether he invited john foliani, and all the prime men of fermo: and when all their chear was ended, and all their other entertainments, as in such feasts it is customary, oliverotto of purpose mov'd some grave discourses; speaking of the greatnesse of pope alexander, and cæsar his son, and their undertakings; where unto john and the others making answer, he of a sudden stood up, saying, that those were things to be spoken of in a more secret place, and so retir'd into a chamber, whether john and all the other citizens followd him; nor were they sooner set downe there, than from some secret place therein camp forth diverse souldiers, who slew john and all the others: after which homicide oliverotto got a horsebacke and ravaged the whole towne, and besieged the supreme magistrate in the palace, so that for feare they were all constraind to obey him, and to settle a government, whereof hee made himselfe prince; and they being all dead who, had they been discontented with him, could have hurt him; he strengthned himselfe with new civill and military orders, so that in the space of a yeer that he held the principality, he was not only secure in the city of fermo, but became fearefull to all his neighbours; and the conquest of him would have prov'd difficult, as that of agathocles, had he not let himselfe been deceivd by cæsar borgia, when at sinigallia, as before was said, he took the orsini and vitelli: where he also being taken a yeere after he had committed the parricide, was strangled together with vitellozzo (whome he had had for master both of his vertues and vices.) some man might doubt from whence it should proceed, that agathocles, and such like, after many treacheries and crueltyes, could possibly live long secure in his own countrey, and defend himselfe from his forrein enemies, and that never any of his own citizens conspir'd against him, seeing that by means of cruelty, many others have never been able even in peaceable times to maintaine their states, much lesse in the doubtfull times of warre. i beleeve that this proceeds from the well, or ill using of those cruelties: they may bee termd well us'd (if it bee lawfull to say well of evill) that are put in practice only once of necessity for securities sake, not insisting therein afterwards; but there is use made of them for the subjects profit, as much as may be. but those that are ill us'd, are such as though they bee but few in the beginning, yet they multiply rather in time, than diminish. they that take that first way, may with the help of god, and mens care, find some remedy for their state, as agathocles did: for the others, it is impossible they should continue. whereupon it is to be noted, that in the laying hold of a state, the usurper thereof ought to runne over and execute all his cruelties at once, that he be not forced often to returne to them, and that he may be able, by not renewing of them, to give men some security, and gaine their affections by doing them some courtesies. hee that carries it otherwise, either for fearefullnesse, or upon evill advice, is alwayes constraind to hold his sword drawne in his hand; nor ever can hee rely upon his subjects, there being no possibility for them, because of his daily and continuall injuries, to live in any safety: for his injuries should bee done altogether, that being seldomer tasted, they might lesse offend; his favours should bee bestowd by little, and little to the end they might keep their taste the better; and above all things a prince must live with his subjects in such sort, that no accident either of good or evill can make him vary: for necessity comming upon him by reason of adversities, thou hast not time given thee to make advantage of thy cruelties; and the favours which then thou bestowest, will little help thee, being taken as if they came from thee perforce, and so yeeld no returne of thanks. chap. ix of the civill principality. but comming to the other part, when a principall citizen, not by villany, or any other insufferable violence, but by the favour of his fellow-citizens becomes prince of his native countrey: which we may terme a civill principality; nor to attaine hereunto is vertue wholly or fortune wholly necessary, but rather a fortunate cunning: i say, this principality is climb'd up to, either by the peoples help, or the great mens. for, in every city we finde these two humours differ; and they spring from this, that the people desire not to be commanded nor oppressed by the great ones, and the great ones are desirous to command and oppresse the people: and from these two several appetites, arise in the city one of these three effects, either a principality, or liberty, or tumultuary licentiousnesse. the principality is caused either by the people, or the great ones, according as the one or other of these factions have the occasion offerd; for the great ones seeing themselves not able to resist the people, begin to turne the whole reputation to one among them, and make him prince, whereby they may under his shadow vent their spleenes. the people also, not being able to support the great mens insolencies, converting the whole reputation to one man, create him their prince, to be protected by his authority. he that comes to the principality by the assistance of the great ones, subsists with more difficulty, than he that attaines to it by the peoples favour; for he being made prince, hath many about him, who account themselves his equalls, and therefore cannot dispose nor command them at his pleasure. but he that gaines the principality by the peoples favor, finds himselfe alone in his throne, and hath none or very few neare him that are not very supple to bend: besides this, the great ones cannot upon easie termes be satisfied, or without doing of wrong to others, where as a small matter contents the people: for the end which the people propound to themselves, is more honest than that of the great men, these desiring to oppresse, they only not to be oppressed. to this may be added also, that the prince which is the peoples enemy, can never well secure himselfe of them, because of their multitude; well may hee bee sure of the nobles, they being but a few. the worst that a prince can look for of the people become his enemy, is to be abandoned by them: but when the great ones once grow his enemies, he is not only to feare their abandoning of him, but their making of a party against him also: for there being in them more forecast and craft, they alwayes take time by the forelocks whereby to save themselves, and seeke credit with him who they hope shall get the mastery. the prince likewise is necessitated alwayes to live with the same people, but can doe well enough without the same great men; he being able to create new ones, and destroy them again every day, and to take from them, and give them credit as he pleases: and to cleare this part, i say, that great men ought to be considerd two wayes principally, that is, if they take thy proceedings so much to heart, as to engage their fortunes wholly in thine, in case they lye not alwayes catching at spoyle, they ought to be well honourd and esteem'd: those that bind themselves not to thy fortune, are to be considerd also two wayes; either they doe it for lack of courage, and naturall want of spirit, and then shouldst thou serve thy selfe of them, and of them especially that are men of good advice; for if thy affaires prosper, thou dost thy selfe honour thereby; if crost, thou needst not feare them: but when they oblige not themselves to thee of purpose, and upon occasion of ambition, it is a signe they think more of themselves than of thee: and of these the prince ought to beware, and account of them as his discoverd enemyes: for alwayes in thy adversity they will give a hand too to ruine thee. therefore ought hee that comes to be prince by the peoples favour, keepe them his friends: which he may easily doe, they desiring only to live free from oppression: but he that becomes prince by the great mens favour, against the will of the people, ought above all things to gaine the people to him, which he may easily effect, when he takes upon him their protection: and because men when they find good, where they look for evill, are thereby more endered to their benefactour, therefore growes the people so pliant in their subjection to him, as if by their favours he had attaind his dignity. and the prince is able to gaine them to his side by many wayes, which because they vary according to the subject, no certaine rule can be given thereupon; wherefore we shall let them passe i will only conclude, that it is necessary for a prince to have the people his friend; otherwise in his adversities he hath no helpe. nabis prince of the spartans supported the siege of all greece, and an exceeding victorious army of the romans, and against those defended his native countrey and state, and this suffic'd him alone, that as the danger came upon him, he secur'd himself of a fewer; whereas if the people had been his enemy, this had nothing availd him. and let no man think to overthrow this my opinion with that common proverb, that he who relyes upon the people, layes his foundation in the dirt; for that is true where a private citizen grounds upon them, making his account that the people shall free him, when either his enemyes or the magistrates oppresse him: in this case he should find himself often deceiv'd, as it befell the gracchyes in rome, and in florence george scali: but he being a prince that grounds thereupon, who can command, and is a man of courage, who hath his wits about him in his adversityes, and wants not other preparations, and holds together the whole multitude animated with his valour and orders, shall not prove deceiv'd by them, and shall find he hath layd good foundations. these principalityes are wont to be upon the point of falling when they goe about to skip from the civil order to the absolute: for these princes either command of themselves, or by the magistrate; in this last case their state is more weak and dangerous, because they stand wholly at the will and pleasure of these citizens, who then are set over the magistrates, who especially in adverse times are able with facility to take their state from them either by rising up against them, or by not obeying them; and then the prince is not at hand in those dangers to take the absolute authority upon him: for the citizens and subjects that are accustomed to receive the commands from the magistrates, are not like in those fractions to obey his: and in doubtfull times he shall alwayes have greatest penury of whom he may trust; for such a prince cannot ground upon that which he sees in peaceable times, when the citizens have need of the state; for then every one runs, and every one promises, and every one will venture his life for him, where there is no danger neare; but in times of hazzard, when the state hath need of citizens, there are but few of them then, and so much the more is this experience dangerous, in that it can be but once made. therefore a prudent prince ought to devise a way whereby his citizens alwayes and in any case and quality of time may have need of his government, and they shall alwaies after prove faithfull to him. chap. x in what manner the forces of all principalities ought to be measured. it is requisite in examining the quality of those principalities, to have another consideration of them, that is, if a prince have such dominions, that he is able in case of necessity to subsist of himself, or else whether he hath alwaies need of another to defend him. and to cleer this point the better, i judge them able to stand of themselves, who are of power either for their multitudes of men, or quantity of money, to bring into the field a compleat armie, and joyn battel with whoever comes to assail them: and so i think those alwaies to stand in need of others help, who are not able to appear in the field against the enemy, but are forc'd to retire within their walls and guard them. touching the first case, we have treated already, and shall adde somwhat thereto as occasion shall require. in the second case, we cannot say other, save only to encourage such princes to fortifie and guard their own capital city, and of the countrey about, not to hold much account; and whoever shall have well fortified that town, and touching other matters of governments shall have behaved himself towards his subjects, as hath been formerly said, and hereafter shall be, shall never be assaild but with great regard; for men willingly undertake not enterprises, where they see difficulty to work them through; nor can much facility be there found, where one assails him, who hath his town strong and wel guarded, and is not hated of his people. the cities of germany are very free; they have but very little of the countrey about them belonging to them; and they obey the emperor, when they please, and they stand not in fear, neither of him nor any other potentate about them: for they are in such a manner fortified, that every one thinks the siege of any of them would prove hard and tedious: for all of them have ditches, and rampires, and good store of artillery, and alwaies have their publick cellars well provided with meat and drink and firing for a yeer: besides this, whereby to feed the common people, and without any loss to the publick, they have alwaies in common whereby they are able for a year to imploy them in the labor of those trades that are the sinews and the life of that city, and of that industry whereby the commons ordinarily supported themselves: they hold up also the military exercises in repute, and hereupon have they many orders to maintain them. a prince then that is master of a good strong city, and causeth not himself to be hated, cannot be assaulted; and in case he were, he that should assail him, would be fain to quit him with shame: for the affairs of the world are so various, that it is almost impossible that an army can lie incampt before a town for the space of a whole yeer: and if any should reply, that the people having their possessions abroad, in case they should see them a fire, would not have patience, and the tedious siege and their love to themselves would make them forget their prince: i answer that a prince puissant and couragious, will easily master those difficulties, now giving his subjects hope, that the mischief will not be of durance; sometimes affright them with the cruelty of their enemies, and other whiles cunningly securing himself of those whom he thinks too forward to run to the enemy. besides this by ordinary reason the enemy should burne and waste their countrey, upon his arrival, and at those times while mens minds are yet warme, and resolute in their defence: and therefore so much the less ought a prince doubt: for after some few dayes, that their courages grow coole, the dammages are all done, and mischiefs received, and there is no help for it, and then have they more occasion to cleave faster to their prince, thinking he is now more bound to them, their houses having for his defence been fired, and their possessions wasted; and mens nature is as well to hold themselves oblig'd for the kindnesses they do, as for those they receive; whereupon if all be well weigh'd, a wise prince shall not find much difficulty to keep sure and true to him his citizens hearts at the beginning and latter end of the siege, when he hath no want of provision for food and ammunition. chap. xi concerning ecclesiastical principalities. there remains now only that we treat of the ecclesiastical principalities, about which all the difficulties are before they are gotten: for they are attained to either by vertue, or fortune; and without the one or the other they are held: for they are maintaind by orders inveterated in the religion, all which are so powerfull and of such nature, that they maintain their princes in their dominions in what manner soever they proceed and live. these only have an estate and defend it not; have subjects and govern them not; and yet their states because undefended, are not taken from them; nor their subjects, though not govern'd, care not, think not, neither are able to aliene themselves from them. these principalities then are only happy and secure: but they being sustained by superior causes, whereunto humane understanding reaches not, i will not meddle with them: for being set up and maintained by god, it would be the part of a presumptuous and rash man to enter into discourse of them. yet if any man should ask me whence it proceeds, that the church in temporal power hath attaind to such greatness, seeing that till the time of alexander the sixt, the italian potentates, and not only they who are entituled the potentates, but every baron and lord though of the meanest condition in regard of the temporality, made but small account of it; and now a king of france trembles at the power thereof; and it hath been able to drive him out of italy, and ruine the venetians; and however this be well known, me thinks it is not superstitious in some part to recall it to memory. before that charles king of france past into italy, this countrey was under the rule of the pope, venetians, the king of naples, the duke of milan, and the florentines. these potentates took two things principally to their care; the one, that no forreiner should invade italy; the other that no one of them should inlarge their state. they, against whom this care was most taken, were the pope and the venetians; and to restrain the venetians, there needed the union of all the rest, as it was in the defence of ferrara; and to keep the pope low, they served themselves of the barons of rome, who being divided into two factions, the orsini and colonnesi, there was alwaies occasion of offence between them, who standing ready with their armes in hand in the view of the pope, held the popedome weak and feeble: and however sometimes there arose a couragious pope, as was sextus; yet either his fortune, or his wisdome was not able to free him of these incommodities, and the brevity of their lives was the cause thereof; for in ten years, which time, one with another, popes ordinarily liv'd, with much ado could they bring low one of the factions. and if, as we may say, one had near put out the colonnesi, there arose another enemy to the orsini, who made them grow again, so that there was never time quite to root them out. this then was the cause, why the popes temporal power was of small esteem in italy; there arose afterwards pope alexander the sixt, who of all the popes that ever were, shewed what a pope was able to do with money and forces: and he effected, by means of his instrument, duke valentine, and by the ocasion of the french mens passage, all those things which i have formerly discoursed upon in the dukes actions: and however his purpose was nothing at all to inlarge the church dominions, but to make the duke great; yet what he did, turnd to the churches advantage, which after his death when the duke was taken away, was the heir of all his pains. afterwards succeeded pope julius, and found the church great, having all romania, and all the barons of rome being quite rooted out, and by alexanders persecutions, all their factions worne down; he found also the way open for the heaping up of moneys, never practised before alexanders time; which things julius not only follow'd, but augmented; and thought to make himself master of bolonia, and extinguish the venetians, and chase the french men out of italy: and these designes of his prov'd all lucky to him, and so much the more to his praise in that he did all for the good of the church, and in no private regard: he kept also the factions of the orsins and colonnesi, in the same state he found them: and though there were among them some head whereby to cause an alteration; yet two things have held them quiet; the one the power of the church, which somewhat affrights them; the other because they have no cardinals of their factions, who are the primary causes of all the troubles amongst them: nor shall these parties ever be at rest, while they have cardinals; because they nourish the factions both in rome, and abroad; and the barons then are forced to undertake the defence of them: and thus from the prelates ambitions arise the discords and tumults among the barons. and now hath pope leo his holiness found the popedome exceeding puissant, of whom it is hoped, that if they amplified it by armes, he by his goodness, and infinite other vertues, will much more advantage and dignifie it. chap. xii how many sorts of military discipline there are and touching mercenary soldiers. having treated particularly of the qualities of those principalities, which in the beginning i propounded to discourse upon, and considered in some part the reasons of their well and ill being, and shewd the waies whereby many have sought to gain, and hold them, it remains now that i speak in general of the offences and defences, that may chance in each of the forenamed. we have formerly said that it is necessary for a prince to have good foundations laid; otherwise it must needs be that he go to wrack. the principal foundations that all states have, as well new, as old, or mixt, are good laws, and good armes; and because there cannot be good laws, where there are not good armes; and where there are good armes, there must needs be good laws, i will omit to discourse of the laws, and speak of armes. i say then that the armes, wherewithall a prince defends his state, either are his own, or mercenary, or auxiliary, or mixt. those that are mercenary and auxiliar, are unprofitable, and dangerous, and if any one holds his state founded upon mercenary armes, he shall never be quiet, nor secure, because they are never well united, ambitious, and without discipline, treacherous, among their friends stour, among their enemies cowardly; they have no fear of god, nor keep any faith with men; and so long only defer they the doing of mischief, till the enemy comes to assul thee; and in time of peace thou art despoyled by them, in war by thy enemies: the reason hereof is, because they have no other love, nor other cause to keep them in the field, but only a small stipend, which is not of force to make them willing to hazard their lives for thee: they are willing indeed to be thy soldiers, till thou goest to fight; but then they fly, or run away; which thing would cost me but small pains to perswade; for the ruine of italy hath not had any other cause now a dayes, than for that it hath these many years rely'd upon mercenary armes; which a good while since perhaps may have done some man some service, and among themselves they may have been thought valiant: but so soon as any forrein enemy appeared, they quickly shewed what they were. whereupon charles the king of france, without opposition, made himself master of all italy: and he that said, that the causes thereof were our faults, said true; but these were not those they beleeved, but what i have told; and because they were the princes faults, they also have suffered the punishment. i will fuller shew the infelicity of these armes. the mercenary captains are either very able men, or not: if they be, thou canst not repose any trust in them: for they will alwaies aspire unto their own proper advancements, either by suppressing of thee that art their lord, or by suppressing of some one else quite out of thy purpose: but if the captain be not valorous, he ordinarily ruines thee: and in case it be answered, that whoever shall have his armes in his hands, whether mercenary or not, will do so: i would reply, that armes are to be imployed either by a prince, or common-wealth. the prince ought to go in person, and performe the office of a commander: the republick is to send forth her citizens: and when she sends forth one that proves not of abilities, she ought to change him then; and when he does prove valorous, to bridle him so by the laws, that he exceed not his commission. and by experience we see, that princes and republiques of themselves alone, make very great conquests; but that mercenary armes never do other than harme; and more hardly falls a republick armed with her own armes under the obedience of one of her own citizens, than one that is armed by forrein armes. rome and sparta subsisted many ages armed and free. the swissers are exceedingly well armed, and yet very free. touching mercenary armes that were of old, we have an example of the carthagians, who near upon were oppress'd by their own mercenary soldiers, when the first war with the romans was finished; however the carthagians had their own citizens for their captains. philip of macedon was made by the thebans after epaminondas his death, general of their armies; and after the victory, he took from them liberty. the milaneses when duke philip was dead, entertaind francis sforza into their pay against the venetians, who having vanquisht their enemie at caravaggio, afterwards joyned with them, where by to usurp upon the milaneses his masters. sforza his father, being in joan the queen of naples pay, left her on a sudden disarmed; whereupon she, to save her kingdom, was constraind to cast her self into the king of arrragon's bosome. and in case the venetians and the florentines have formerly augmented their state with these kind of armes, and their own captains, and yet none of them have ever made themselves their princes, but rather defended them: i answer, that the florentines in this case have had fortune much their friend: for of valorous captains, which they might any way fear, some have not been victors, some have had opposition, and others have laid the aim of their ambitions another way. he who overcame not, was john aouto, of whose faith there could no proof be made, being he vanquisht not; but every one will acknowledge, that, had he vanquisht, the florentines were at his discretion. sforza had alwaies the bracceschi for his adversaries, so that they were as a guard one upon another. francis converted all his ambition against lombardy. braccio against the church, and the kingdome of naples. but let us come to that which followed a while agoe. the florentines made paul vitelli their general, a throughly advis'd man, and who from a private fortune had rose to very great reputation: had he taken pisa, no man will deny but that the florentines must have held fast with him; for had he been entertained in their enemies pay, they had no remedy; and they themselves holding of him, of force were to obey him. the venetians, if we consider their proceedings, we shall see wrought both warily and gloriously, while themselves made war, which was before their undertakings by land, where the gentlemen with their own commons in armes behav'd themselves bravely: but when they began to fight by land, they lost their valor, and follow'd the customes of italy; and in the beginning of their enlargement by land, because they had not much territory, and yet were of great reputation, they had not much cause to fear their captains; but as they began to extend their bounds, which was under their commander carminiola, they had a taste of this error: for perceiving he was exceeding valorous, having under his conduct beaten the duke of milan; and knowing on the other side, how he was cold in the war, they judg'd that they could not make any great conquest with him; and because they neither would, nor could cashier him, that they might not lose what they had gotten, they were forced for their own safeties to put him to death. since they have had for their general bartholomew of berganio, robert of st. severin, the count of petilian, and such like: whereby they were to fear their losses, as well as to hope for gain: as it fell out afterwards at vayla, where in one day they lost that, which with so much pains they had gotten in eight hundred years: for from these kind of armes grow slack and slow and weak gains; but sudden and wonderfull losses: and because i am now come with these examples into italy, which now these many years, have been governd by mercenary armes, i will search deeper into them, to the end that their course and progress being better discoverd, they may be the better amended. you have to understand, that so soon as in these later times the yoak of the italian empire began to be shaken off, and the pope had gotten reputation in the temporality, italy was divided into several states: for many of the great cities took armes against their nobility; who under the emperors protection had held them in oppression; and the pope favored these, whereby he might get himself reputation, in the temporality; of many others, their citizens became princes, so that hereupon italy being come into the churches hands as it were, and some few republicks, those priests and citizens not accustomed to the use of armes, began to take strangers to their pay. the first that gave reputation to these soldiers was alberick of como in romania. from his discipline among others descended brachio and sforza, who in their time were the arbitres of italy; after these followed all others, who even till our dayes have commanded the armes of italy; and the success of their valor hath been, that it was overrun by charles, pillaged by lewis, forc'd by ferdinand, and disgrac'd by the swissers. the order which they have held, hath been, first whereby to give reputation to their own armes to take away the credit of the infantry. this they did, because they having no state of their own, but living upon their industry, their few foot gave them no reputation, and many they were not able to maintain; whereupon they reduc'd themselves to cavalery, and so with a supportable number they were entertained and honored: and matters were brought to such termes, that in an army of twenty thousand soldiers you should not find two thousand foot. they had moreover us'd all industry to free themselves and their soldiers of all pains and fear, in their skirmishes, not killing, but taking one another prisoners, and without ransome for their freedom; they repaired not all to their tents by night, nor made palizado or trench thereabout, nor lay in the field in the summer: and all these things were thus contrived and agreed of among them in their military orders, whereby (as is said) to avoid pains and dangers, insomuch as they have brought italy into slavery and disgrace. chap. xiii of auxiliary soldiers, mixt, and native. the auxiliary forces, being the other kind of unprofitable armes, are, when any puissant one is called in, who with his forces comes to assist and defend thee; such as in these later times did pope julius use, who having seen the evil proof of his mercenary soldiers in the enterprize of ferrara, applied himself to the auxiliaries, and agreed with ferdinand king of spain, that with his forces he should aid him. these armes may be profitable and advantagious for themselves; but for him that calls them in, hurtfull; because in losing, thou art left defeated; and conquering, thou becomest their prisoner. and however that of these examples the ancient stories are full fraught; yet will i not part from this of pope julius the second, which is as yet fresh: whose course could not have been more inconsiderate, for the desire he had to get ferrara, putting himself wholly into strangers hands: but his good fortune caused another cause to arise, that hindred him from receiving the fruit of his evil choice; for his auxiliaries being broken at ravenna, and the swissers thereupon arriving, who put the conquerors to flight beyond all opinion, even their own and others, he chanced not to remain his enemies prisoner, they being put to flight, nor prisoner to his auxiliaries, having vanquished by other forces than theirs. the florentines being wholly disarmed, brought ten thousand french to pisa for to take it: by which course they ran more hazzard, than in any time of their troubles. the emperor of constantinople, to oppress his neighbors, brought into greece ten thousand turks, who when the war was ended, could not be got out thence, which was the beginning of greeces servitude under the infidels. he then that will in no case be able to overcome, let him serve himself of these armes; for they are much more dangerous than the mercenaries; for by those thy ruine is more suddenly executed; for they are all united, and all bent to the obedience of another. but for the mercenaries to hurt thee, when they have vanquished, there is no more need of time, and greater occasion, they not being all united in a body, and being found out and paid by thee, wherein a third that thou mak'st their head, cannot suddenly gaine so great authority, that he can endammage thee. in summe, in the mercenaries their sloth and lazinesse to fight is more dangerous: in the auxiliaries their valour. wherefore a wise prince hath alwayes avoyded these kind of armes, and betaken himselfe to his owne, and desired rather to loss with his owne, than conquer with anothers, accounting that not a true victorie which was gotten with others armes. i will not doubt to alleadge cæsar borgia, and his actions. this duke entred into romania with auxiliarie armes, bringing with him all french souldiers: but afterwards not accounting those armes secure, bent himselfe to mercenaries, judging lesse danger to be in those, and tooke in pay the orsini and the vitelli, which afterwards in the proof of them, finding wavering, unfaithful, and dangerous, he extinguishd, and betook himselfe to his owne; and it may easily be perceiv'd what difference there is between the one and the other of these armes, considering the difference that was between the dukes reputation, when he had the french men alone, and when he had the orsini and vitelli; but when he remaind with his own, and stood of himselfe, we shall find it was much augmented: nor ever was it of grate esteeme, but when every one saw, that he wholly possessed his owne armes. i thought not to have parted from the italian examples of late memory; but that i must not let passe that of hiero the siracusan, being one of those i formerly nam'd. this man (as i said before) being made general of the siracusans forces, knew presently that mercenary souldiery was nothing for their profit in that they were hirelings, as our italians are; and finding no way either to hold, or cashier them made them all bee cut to peeces, and afterwards waged warre with his owne men, and none others. i will also call to memory a figure of the old testament serving just to this purpose. when david presented himselfe before saul to goe to fight with goliah the philistins champion, saul to encourage him, clad him with his owne armes, which david when he had them upon back, refused, saying, he was not able to make any proofe of himself therein, and therefore would goe meet the enemy with his own sling and sword. in summe, others armes either fall from thy shoulders, or cumber or streighten thee. charls the seventh, father of lewis the eleventh, having by his good fortune and valour set france at liberty from the english, knew well this necessity of being arm'd with his owne armes, and settled in his kingdome the ordinances of men at armes, and infantry. afterwards king lewis his sonne abolisht those of the infantry, and began to take the swissers to pay; which errour follow'd by the others, is (as now indeed it appeares) the cause of that kingdomes dangers. for having given reputation to the swissers, they have renderd all their own armes contemptible; for this hath wholly ruind their foot, and oblig'd their men at armes to forrein armes: for being accustomed to serve with the swissers, they think they are not able to overcome without them. from whence it comes that the french are not of force against the swissers, and without them also against others they use not to adventure. therefore are the french armies mixt, part mercenaries, and part natives, which armes are farre better than the simple mercenaries or simple auxiliaries, and much inferiour to the natives; and let the said example suffice for that: for the kingdome of france would have been unconquerable, if charles his order had been augmented and maintaind: but men in their small wisdome begin a thing, which then because it hath some favour of good, discovers not the poyson that lurkes thereunder, as i before said of the hectick feavers. wherefore that prince which perceives not mischiefes, but as they grow up, is not truely wise; and this is given but to few: and if we consider the first ruine of the romane empire, we shall find it was from taking the goths first into their pay; for from that beginning the forces of the romane empire began to grow weak, and all the valour that was taken hence was given to them. i conclude then that without having armes of their owne, no principality can be secure, or rather is wholly oblig'd to fortune, not having valour to shelter it in adversity. and it was alwayes the opinion and saying of wise men, that nothing is so weak and unsetled, as is the reputation of power not founded upon ones owne proper forces: which are those that are composed of thy subjects, or citizens, or servants; all the rest are mercenary or auxiliary; and the manner how to order those well, is easie to find out, if those orders above nam'd by me, shall be but run over, and if it shall be but consider'd, how philip alexander the great his father, and in what manner many republicks and princes have armd and appointed themselves, to which appointments i referre my selfe wholly. chap. xiv what belongs to the prince touching military discipline. a prince then ought to have no other ayme, nor other thought, nor take any thing else for his proper art, but warr, and the orders and discipline thereof: for that is the sole arte which belongs to him that commands, and is of so great excellency, that not only those that are borne princes, it maintains so; but many times raises men from a private fortune to that dignity. and it is seene by the contrary, that when princes have given themselves more to their delights, than to the warres, they have lost their states; and the first cause that makes thee lose it, is the neglect of that arte; and the cause that makes thee gaine it, is that thou art experienc'd and approvd in that arte. francis sforza by being a man at armes, of a private man became duke of milan; and his sons by excusing themselves of the troubles and paines belonging to those imployments of princes, became private men. for among other mischiefes thy neglect of armes brings upon thee, it causes thee to be contemnd, which is one of those disgraces, from which a prince ought to keepe himselfe, as hereafter shall be sayd: for from one that is disarmd to one that is armd there is no proportion; and reason will not, that he who is in armes, should willingly yeeld obedience to him that is unfurnishd of them, and that he that is disarmd should be in security among his armed vassalls; for there being disdaine in the one, and suspicion in the other, it is impossible these should ever well cooperate. and therefore a prince who is quite unexperienced in matter of warre, besides the other infelicities belonging to him, as is said, cannot be had in any esteeme among his souldiers, nor yet trust in them. wherefore he ought never to neglect the practice of the arte of warre, and in time of peace should he exercise it more than in the warre; which he may be able to doe two wayes; the one practically, and in his labours and recreations of his body, the other theoretically. and touching the practick part, he ought besides the keeping of his own subjects well traind up in the discipline and exercise of armes, give himselfe much to the chase, whereby to accustome his body to paines, and partly to understand the manner of situations, and to know how the mountaines arise, which way the vallyes open themselves, and how the plaines are distended flat abroad, and to conceive well the nature of the rivers, and marrish ground, and herein to bestow very much care, which knowledge is profitable in two kinds: first he learnes thereby to know his own countrey, and is the better enabled to understand the defence thereof, and afterwards by meanes of this knowledge and experience in these situations, easily comprehends any other situation, which a new he hath need to view, for the little hillocks, vallies, plaines, rivers, and marrish places. for example, they in tuscany are like unto those of other countries: so that from the knowledge of the site of one country, it is easie to attain to know that of others. and that prince that wants this skill, failes of the principall part a commander should be furnisht with; for this shows the way how to discover the enemy, to pitch the camp, to lead their armies, to order their battells, and also to besiege a town at thy best advantage, philopomenes prince of the achayans, among other praises writers give him, they say, that in time of peace, he thought not upon any thing so much as the practise of warre; and whensoever he was abroad in the field to disport himselfe with his friends, would often stand still, and discourse with them, in case the enemies were upon the top of that hill, and we here with our army, whether of us two should have the advantage, and how might we safely goe to find them, keeping still our orders; and if we would retire our selves, what course should we take if they retir'd, how should we follow them? and thus on the way, propounded them all such accidents could befall in any army; would heare their opinions, and tell his owne, and confirme it by argument; so that by his continuall thought hereupon, when ever he led any army no chance could happen, for which he had not a remedy. but touching the exercise of the mind, a prince ought to read histories, and in them consider the actions of the worthiest men, marke how they have behav'd themselves in the warrs, examine the occasions of their victories, and their losses; wherby they may be able to avoyd these, and obtaine those; and above all, doe as formerly some excellent man hath done, who hath taken upon him to imitate, if any one that hath gone before him hath left his memory glorious; the course he took, and kept alwaies near unto him the remembrances of his actions and worthy deeds: as it is said, that alexander the great imitated achilles; cæsar alexander, and scipio cyrus. and whoever reads the life of cyrus, written by xenophon, may easily perceive afterwards in scipio's life how much glory his imitation gaind him, and how much scipio did conforme himselfe in his chastity, affability, humanity, and liberality with those things, that are written by xenophon of cyrus. such like wayes ought a wise prince to take, nor ever be idle in quiet times, but by his paines then, as it were provide himself of store, whereof he may make some use in his adversity, the end that when the times change, he may be able to resist the stormes of his hard fortune. chap. xv of those things, in respect whereof, men, and especially princes, are praised, or dispraised. it now remaines that we consider what the conditions of a prince ought to be, and his termes of government over his subjects, and towards his friends. and because i know that many have written hereupon; i doubt, lest i venturing also to treat thereof, may be branded with presumption, especially seeing i am like enough to deliver an opinion different from others. but my intent being to write for the advantage of him that understands me, i thought it fitter to follow the effectuall truth of the matter, than the imagination thereof; and many principalities and republiques, have been in imagination, which neither have been seen nor knowne to be indeed: for there is such a distance between how men doe live, and how men ought to live; that he who leaves that which is done, for that which ought to be done, learnes sooner his ruine than his preservation; for that man who will professe honesty in all his actions, must needs goe to ruine among so many that are dishonest. whereupon it is necessary for a prince, desiring to preserve himselfe, to be able to make use of that honestie, and to lay it aside againe, as need shall require. passing by then things that are only in imagination belonging to a prince, to discourse upon those that are really true; i say that all men, whensoever mention is made of them, and especially princes, because they are placed aloft in the view of all, are taken notice of for some of these qualities, which procure them either commendations or blame: and this is that some one is held liberal, some miserable, (miserable i say, nor covetous; for the covetous desire to have, though it were by rapine; but a miserable man is he, that too much for bears to make use of his owne) some free givers, others extortioners; some cruell, others pitious; the one a leaguebreaker, another faithfull; the one effeminate and of small courage, the other fierce and couragious; the one courteous, the other proud; the one lascivious, the other chaste; the one of faire dealing, the other wily and crafty; the one hard, the other easie; the one grave, the other light; the one religious, the other incredulous, and such like. i know that every one will confesse, it were exceedingly praise worthy for a prince to be adorned with all these above nam'd qualities that are good: but because this is not possible, nor doe humane conditions admit such perfection in vertues, it is necessary for him to be so discret, that he know how to avoid the infamie of those vices which would thrust him out of his state; and if it be possible, beware of those also which are not able to remove him thence; but where it cannot be, let them passe with lesse regard. and yet, let him not stand much upon it, though he incurre the infamie of those vices, without which he can very hardly save his state: for if all be throughly considerd, some thing we shall find which will have the colour and very face of vertue, and following them, they will lead the to thy destruction; whereas some others that shall as much seeme vice, if we take the course they lead us, shall discover unto us the way to our safety and well-being. the second blemish in this our authours book, i find in his fifteenth chapter: where he instructs his prince to use such an ambidexterity as that he may serve himselfe either of vertue, or vice, according to his advantage, which in true pollicy is neither good in attaining the principality nor in securing it when it is attaind. for politicks, presuppose ethiques, which will never allow this rule: as that a man might make this small difference between vertue, and vice, that he may indifferently lay aside, or take up the one or the other, and put it in practise as best conduceth to the end he propounds himselfe. i doubt our authour would have blamd davids regard to saul when sam. . in the cave he cut off the lap of sauls garment, and spared his head; and afterwards in the . when he forbad abishai to strike him as he lay sleeping. worthy of a princes consideration is that saying of abigal to david sam. . . 'it shall come to passe when the lord shall have done to my lord according to all that he hath spoken concerning thee, and shall have appointed thee ruler over israel, that this shall be no grief to thee, nor offence of heart unto my lord, that thou hast forborne to shed blood, etc.' for surely the conscience of this evill ground whereupon they have either built, or underpropped their tyranny, causes men, as well _metus_ as _spes in longum projicere_, which sets them a work on further mischiefe. chap. xvi of liberality, and miserablenesse. beginning then at the first of the above mentioned qualities, i say that it would be very well to be accounted liberall: neverthelesse, liberality used in such a manner, as to make thee be accounted so, wrongs thee: for in case it be used vertuously, and as it ought to be, it shall never come to be taken notice of, so as to free thee from the infamie of its contrary. and therefore for one to hold the name of liberal among men, it were needfull not to omit any sumptuous quality, insomuch that a prince alwayes so dispos'd, shall waste all his revenues, and at the end shall be forc'd, if he will still maintaine that reputation of liberality, heavily to burthen his subjects, and become a great exactour; and put in practise all those things that can be done to get mony: which begins to make him hatefull to his subjects, and fall into every ones contempt, growing necessitous: so that having with this liberality wrong'd many, and imparted of his bounty but to a few; he feels every first mischance, and runs a hazard of every first danger: which he knowing, and desiring to withdraw himself from, incurs presently the disgrace of being termed miserable. a prince therefore not being able to use this vertue of liberality, without his own damage, in such a sort, that it may be taken notice of, ought, if he be wise, not to regard the name of miserable; for in time he shall alwaies be esteemed the more liberal, seeing that by his parsimony his own revenues are sufficient for him; as also he can defend himself against whoever makes war against him, and can do some exploits without grieving his subjects: so that he comes to use his liberality to all those, from whom he takes nothing, who are infinite in number; and his miserableness towards those to whom he gives nothing, who are but a few. in our dayes we have not seen any, but those who have been held miserable, do any great matters; but the others all quite ruin'd. pope julius the second, however he serv'd himself of the name of liberal, to get the papacy, yet never intended he to continue it, to the end he might be able to make war against the king of france: and he made so many wars without imposing any extraordinary tax, because his long thrift supplyed his large expences. this present king of spain could never have undertaken, nor gone through with so many exploits, had he been accounted liberal. wherefore a prince ought little to regard (that he may not be driven to pillage his subjects, that he may be able to defend himself, that he may not fall into poverty and contempt, that he be not forced to become an extortioner) though he incurre the name of miserable; for this is one of those vices, which does not pluck him from his throne. and if any one should say, cæsar by his liberality obtained the empire, and many others (because they both were, and were esteemd liberal) attaind to exceeding great dignities. i answer, either thou art already come to be a prince, or thou art in the way to it; in the first case, this liberality is hurtful; in the second, it is necessary to be accounted so; and cæsar was one of those that aspired to the principality of rome. but if after he had gotten it, he had survived, and not forborne those expences, he would quite have ruined that empire. and if any one should reply; many have been princes, and with their armies have done great exploits, who have been held very liberal. i answer, either the prince spends of his own and his subjects, or that which belongs to others: in the first, he ought to be sparing; in the second, he should not omit any part of liberality. and that prince that goes abroad with his army, and feeds upon prey, and spoyle, and tributes, and hath the disposing of that which belongs to others, necessarily should use this liberality; otherwise would his soldiers never follow him; and of that which is neither thine, nor thy subjects, thou mayest well be a free giver, as were cyrus, cæsar and alexander; for the spending of that which is anothers, takes not away thy reputation, but rather adds to it, only the wasting of that which is thine own hurts thee; nor is there any thing consumes itself so much as liberality, which whilest thou usest, thou losest the means to make use of it, and becomest poore and abject; or to avoid this poverty, an extortioner and hatefull person. and among all those things which a prince ought to beware of is, to be dispised, and odious; to one and the other of which, liberality brings thee. wherefore there is more discretion to hold the stile of miserable, which begets an infamy without hatred, than to desire that of liberal, whereby to incurre the necessity of being thought an extortioner, which procures an infamy with hatred. chap. xvii of cruelty, and clemency, and whether it is better to be belov'd, or feard. descending afterwards unto the other fore-alledged qualities, i say, that every prince should desire to be held pitiful, and not cruel. nevertheless ought he beware that he ill uses not this pitty. cæsar borgia was accounted cruel, yet had his cruelty redrest the disorders in romania, setled it in union, and restored it to peace, and fidelity: which, if it be well weighed, we shall see was an act of more pitty, than that of the people of florence, who to avoyd the terme of cruelty, suffered pistoya to fall to destruction. wherefore a prince ought not to regard the infamy of cruelty, for to hold his subjects united and faithfull: for by giving a very few proofes of himself the other way, he shall be held more pittiful than they, who through their too much pitty, suffer disorders to follow, from whence arise murthers and rapines: for these are wont to hurt an intire universality, whereas the executions practised by a prince, hurt only some particular. and among all sorts of princes, it is impossible for a new prince to avoyd the name of cruel, because all new states are full of dangers: whereupon virgil by the mouth of dido excuses the inhumanity of her kingdom, saying, _res dura et regni novitas me talia cogunt moliri et latè fines custode tenere._ my hard plight and new state force me to guard my confines all about with watch and ward. nevertheless ought he to be judicious in his giving belief to any thing, or moving himself thereat, nor make his people extreamly afraid of him; but proceed in a moderate way with wisdome, and humanity, that his too much confidence make him not unwary, and his too much distrust intolerable; from hence arises a dispute, whether it is better to be belov'd or feard: i answer, a man would wish he might be the one and the other: but because hardly can they subsist both together, it is much safer to be feard, than be loved; being that one of the two must needs fail; for touching men, we may say this in general, they are unthankful, unconstant, dissemblers, they avoyd dangers, and are covetous of gain; and whilest thou doest them good, they are wholly thine; their blood, their fortunes, lives and children are at thy service, as is said before, when the danger is remote; but when it approaches, they revolt. and that prince who wholly relies upon their words, unfurnished of all other preparations, goes to wrack: for the friendships that are gotten with rewards, and not by the magnificence and worth of the mind, are dearly bought indeed; but they will neither keep long, nor serve well in time of need: and men do less regard to offend one that is supported by love, than by fear. for love is held by a certainty of obligation, which because men are mischievous, is broken upon any occasion of their own profit. but fear restrains with a dread of punishment which never forsakes a man. yet ought a prince cause himself to be belov'd in such a manner, that if he gains not love, he may avoid hatred: for it may well stand together, that a man may be feard and not hated; which shall never fail, if he abstain from his subjects goods, and their wives; and whensoever he should be forc'd to proceed against any of their lives, do it when it is to be done upon a just cause, and apparent conviction; but above all things forbeare to lay his hands on other mens goods; for men forget sooner the death of their father, than the loss of their patrimony. moreover the occasions of taking from men their goods, do never fail: and alwaies he that begins to live by rapine, finds occasion to lay hold upon other mens goods: but against mens lives, they are seldome found, and sooner fail. but where a prince is abroad in the field with his army, and hath a multitude of soldiers under his government, then is it necessary that he stands not much upon it, though he be termed cruel: for unless he be so, he shall never have his soldiers live in accord one with another, nor ever well disposed to any brave piece of service. among hannibals actions of mervail, this is reckoned for one, that having a very huge army, gathered out of several nations, and all led to serve in a strange countrey, there was never any dissention neither amongst themselves, nor against their general, as well in their bad fortune as their good. which could not proceed from any thing else than from that barbarous cruelty of his, which together with his exceeding many vertues, rendred him to his soldiers both venerable and terrible; without which, to that effect his other vertues had served him to little purpose: and some writers though not of the best advised, on one side admire these his worthy actions, and on the otherside, condemn the principal causes thereof. and that it is true, that his other vertues would not have suffic'd him, we may consider in scipio, the rarest man not only in the dayes he liv'd, but even in the memory of man; from whom his army rebel'd in spain: which grew only upon his too much clemency, which had given way to his soldiers to become more licentious, than was well tollerable by military discipline: for which he was reprov'd by fabius maximus in the senate, who termed him the corrupter of the roman soldiery. the locrensians having been destroyed by a lieutenant of scipio's, were never reveng'd by him, nor the insolence of that lieutenant punisht; all this arising from his easie nature: so that one desiring to excuse him in the senate, said, that there were many men knew better how to keep themselves from faults, than to correct the faults of other men: which disposition of his in time would have wrong'd scipio's reputation and glory, had he therewith continu'd in his commands: but living under the government of the senate, this quality of his that would have disgrac'd him not only was conceal'd, but prov'd to the advancement of his glory. i conclude then, returning to the purpose of being feard, and belov'd; insomuch as men love at their own pleasure, and to serve their own turne, and their fear depends upon the princes pleasure, every wise prince ought to ground upon that which is of himself, and not upon that which is of another: only this, he ought to use his best wits to avoid hatred, as was said. chap. xviii in what manner princes ought to keep their words. how commendable in a prince it is to keep his word, and live with integrity, not making use of cunning and subtlety, every one knows well: yet we see by experience in these our dayes, that those princes have effected great matters, who have made small reckoning of keeping their words, and have known by their craft to turne and wind men about, and in the end, have overcome those who have grounded upon the truth. you must then know, there are two kinds of combating or fighting; the one by right of the laws, the other meerly by force. that first way is proper to men, the other is also common to beasts: but because the first many times suffices not, there is a necessity to make recourse to the second; wherefore it behooves a prince to know how to make good use of that part which belongs to a beast, as well as that which is proper to a man. this part hath been covertly shew'd to princes by ancient writers; who say that achilles and many others of those ancient princes were intrusted to chiron the senator, to be brought up under his discipline: the moral of this, having for their teacher one that was half a beast and half a man, was nothing else, but that it was needful for a prince to understand how to make his advantage of the one and the other nature, because neither could subsist without the other. a prince then being necessitated to know how to make use of that part belonging to a beast, ought to serve himself of the conditions of the fox and the lion; for the lion cannot keep himself from snares, nor the fox defend himself against the wolves. he had need then be a fox, that he may beware of the snares, and a lion that he may scare the wolves. those that stand wholly upon the lion, understand not well themselves. and therefore a wise prince cannot, nor ought not keep his faith given when the observance thereof turnes to disadvantage, and the occasions that made him promise, are past. for if men were all good, this rule would not be allowable; but being they are full of mischief, and would not make it good to thee, neither art thou tyed to keep it with them: nor shall a prince ever want lawfull occasions to give colour to this breach. very many modern examples hereof might be alledg'd, wherein might be shewed how many peaces concluded, and how many promises made, have been violated and broken by the infidelity of princes; and ordinarily things have best succeeded with him that hath been nearest the fox in condition. but it is necessary to understand how to set a good colour upon this disposition, and to be able to fain and dissemble throughly; and men are so simple, and yeeld so much to the present necessities, that he who hath a mind to deceive, shall alwaies find another that will be deceivd. i will not conceal any one of the examples that have been of late. alexander the sixth, never did any thing else than deceive men, and never meant otherwise, and alwaies found whom to work upon; yet never was there man would protest more effectually, nor aver any thing with more solemn oaths, and observe them less than he; nevertheless, his cousenages all thriv'd well with him; for he knew how to play this part cunningly. therefore is there no necessity for a prince to be endued with all above written qualities, but it behooveth well that he seem to be so; or rather i will boldly say this, that having these qualities, and alwaies regulating himself by them, they are hurtfull; but seeming to have them, they are advantageous; as to seem pittiful, faithful, mild, religious, and of integrity, and indeed to be so; provided withall thou beest of such a composition, that if need require to use the contrary, thou canst, and knowest how to apply thy self thereto. and it suffices to conceive this, that a prince, and especially a new prince, cannot observe all those things, for which men are held good; he being often forc'd, for the maintenance of his state, to do contrary to his faith, charity, humanity, and religion: and therefore it behooves him to have a mind so disposd, as to turne and take the advantage of all winds and fortunes; and as formerly i said, not forsake the good, while he can; but to know how to make use of the evil upon necessity. a prince then ought to have a special care, that he never let fall any words, but what are all season'd with the five above written qualities, and let him seem to him that sees and hears him, all pitty, all faith, all integrity, all humanity, all religion; nor is there any thing more necessary for him to seem to have, than this last quality: for all men in general judge thereof, rather by the sight, than by the touch; for every man may come to the sight of him, few come to the touch and feeling of him; yvery man may come to see what thou seemest, few come to perceive and understand what thou art; and those few dare not oppose the opinion of many, who have the majesty of state to protect them: and in all mens actions, especially those of princes wherein there is no judgement to appeale unto men, forbeare to give their censures, till the events and ends of things. let a prince therefore take the surest courses he can to maintain his life and state: the means shall alwaies be thought honorable, and commended by every one; for the vulgar is over-taken with the appearance and event of a thing: and for the most part of people, they are but the vulgar: the others that are but few, take place where the vulgar have no subsisteance. a prince there is in these dayes, whom i shall not do well to name, that preaches nothing else but peace and faith; but had he kept the one and the other, several times had they taken from him his state and reputation. in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth chap, our author descends to particulars, perswading his prince in his sixteenth to such a suppleness of disposition, as that upon occasion he can make use either of liberality or miserableness, as need shall require. but that of liberality is to last no longer than while he is in the way to some designe: which if he well weigh, is not really a reward of vertue, how ere it seems; but a bait and lure to bring birds to the net. in the seventeenth chap, he treats of clemency and cruelty, neither of which are to be exercis'd by him as acts of mercy or justice; but as they may serve to advantage his further purposes. and lest the prince should incline too much to clemency, our author allows rather the restraint by fear, than by love. the contrary to which all stories shew us. i will say this only, cruelty may cut of the power of some, but causes the hatred of all, and gives a will to most to take the first occasion offerd for revenge. in the eighteenth chap, our author discourses how princes ought to govern themselves in keeping their promises made: whereof he sayes they ought to make such small reckoning, as that rather they should know by their craft how to turne and wind men about, whereby to take advantage of all winds and fortunes. to this i would oppose that in the fifteenth psal. v. . he that sweareth to his neighbor, and disappointeth him not, though it were to his own hindrance. it was a king that writ it, and me thinks the rule he gave, should well befit both king and subject: and surely this perswades against all taking of advantages. a man may reduce all the causes of faith-breaking to three heads. one may be, because he that promised, had no intention to keep his word; and this is a wicked and malitious way of dealing. a second may bee, because hee that promisd, repents of his promise made; and that is grounded on unconstancy, and lightness in that he would not be well resolved before he entred into covenant. the third may be, when it so falls out, that it lyes not in his power that made the promise to performe it. in which case a man ought to imitate the good debter, who having not wherewithall to pay, hides not himself, but presents his person to his creditor, willingly suffering imprisonment. the first and second are very vitious and unworthy of a prince: in the third, men might well be directed by the examples of those two famous romans, regulus and posthumius. i shall close this with the answer of charles the fifth, when he was pressed to break his word with luther for his safe return from wormes; _fides rerum promissarum etsi toto mundo exulet, tamen apud imperatorem cam consistere oportet_. though truth be banisht out of the whole world, yet should it alwaies find harbour in an emperors breast. [sidenote: _gulielmus xenocarus_ in vit. car. quinti.] chap. xix that princes should take a care, not to incurre contempt or hatred. but because among the qualities, whereof formerly mention is made, i have spoken of those of most importance, i will treat of the others more briefly under these qualityes that a prince is to beware, as in part is above-said, and that he fly those things which cause him to be odious or vile: and when ever he shall avoid this, he shall fully have plaid his part, and in the other disgraces he shall find no danger at all. there is nothing makes him so odious, as i said, as his extortion of his subjects goods, and abuse of their women, from which he ought to forbear; and so long as he wrongs not his whole people, neither in their goods, nor honors, they live content, and he hath only to strive with the ambition of some few: which many waies and easily too, is restrain'd. to be held various, light, effeminate, faint-hearted, unresolv'd, these make him be contemnd and thought base, which a prince should shun like rocks, and take a care that in all his actions there appear magnanimity, courage, gravity, and valor; and that in all the private affairs of his subjects, he orders it so, that his word stand irrevocable: and maintain himself in such repute, that no man may think either to deceive or wind and turn him about: that prince that gives such an opinion of himself, is much esteemed, and against him who is so well esteemed, hardly are any conspiracies made by his subjects, or by forreiners any invasion, when once notice is taken of his worth, and how much he is reverenced by his subjects: for a prince ought to have two fears, the one from within, in regard of his subjects; the other from abroad, in regard of his mighty neighbors; from these he defends himself by good armes and good friends; and alwayes he shall have good friends, if he have good armes; and all things shall alwaies stand sure at home, when those abroad are firme, in case some conspiracy have not disturbed them; and however the forrein matters stand but ticklishly; yet if he have taken such courses at home, and liv'd as we have prescribed, he shall never be able (in case he forsake not himself) to resist all possibility, force and violence, as i said nabis the spartan did: but touching his subjects, even when his affairs abroad are setled, it is to be fear'd they may conspire privily; from which a prince sufficiently secure himself by shunning to be hated or contemned, and keeping himself in his peoples good opinion, which it is necessary for him to compass, as formerly we treated at large. and one of the powerfullest remedies a prince can have against conspiracies, is, not to be hated nor dispised by the universality; for alwaies he that conspires, beleeves the princes death is acceptable to the subject: but when he thinks it displeases them, he hath not the heart to venture on such a matter; for the difficulties that are on the conspirators side, are infinite. by experience it is plain, that many times plots have been laid, but few of them have succeeded luckily; for he that conspires, cannot be alone, nor can he take the company of any, but of those, who he beleeves are malecontents; and so soon as thou hast discover'd thy self to a malecontent, thou givest him means to work his own content: for by revealing thy treason, he may well hope for all manner of favour: so that seeing his gain certain of one side; and on the other, finding only doubt and danger, either he had need be a rare friend, or that he be an exceeding obstinate enemy to the prince, if he keeps his word with thee. and to reduce this matter into short termes: i say, there is nothing but jealousie, fear, and suspect of punishment on the conspirators part to affright him; but on the princes part, there is the majesty of the principality, the laws, the defences of his friends and the state, which do so guard him, that to all these things the peoples good wills being added, it is unpossible any one should be so head-strong as to conspire; for ordinarily where a traytor is to feare before the execution of his mischiefe, in this case he is also to feare afterwards, having the people for his enemy when the fact is commited, and therefore for this cause, not being able to hope for any refuge. touching this matter, many examples might be brought; but i will content my selfe to name one which fell out in the memory of our fathers. annibal bentivolii, grand father of this annibal who now lives, that was prince in bolonia, being slaine by the canneschi that conspir'd against him, none of his race being left, but this john, who was then in swadling clouts; presently the people rose upon this murder, and slew all the canneschi which proceeded from the popular affection, which the family of the bentivolii held then in bolonia: which was so great, that being there remain'd not any, now anniball was dead, that was able to manage the state; and having notice that in florence there was one borne of the bentivolii, who till then was taken for a smiths sonne: the citizens of bolonia went to florence for him, and gave the government of their city to him, which was rul'd by him, untill john was of fit yeares to governe. i conclude then, that a prince ought to make small account of treasons, whiles he hath the people to friend: but if they be his enemies and hate him, he may well feare every thing, and every one. and well ordered states, and discreet princes have taken care withall diligence, not to cause their great men to fall into desperation, and to content the people, and so to maintaine them: for this is one of the most important businesses belonging to a prince. among the kingdomes that are well orderd and governd in our dayes, is that of france, and therein are found exceeding many good orders, whereupon the kings liberty and security depends: of which the chiefe is the parliament, and the authority thereof: for he that founded that kingdome, knowing the great mens ambition and insolence; and judgeing it necessary there should be a bridle to curbe them; and on the other side knowing the hatred of the commonalty against the great ones, grounded upon feare, intending to secure them, would not lay this care wholly upon the king, but take this trouble from him, which he might have with the great men, in case he favourd the commonalty; or with the commonalty, in case he favourd the great men; and thereupon set up a third judge, which was that, to the end it should keep under the great ones, and favour the meaner sort, without any imputation to the king. it was not possible to take a better, nor wiser course then this; nor a surer way to secure the king, and the kingdome. from whence we may draw another conclusion worthie of note, that princes ought to cause others to take upon them the matters of blame and imputation; and upon themselves to take only those of grace and favour. here againe i conclude, that a prince ought to make good esteeme of his nobility; but not thereby to incur the commons hatred: it would seeme perhaps to many, considering the life and death of many romane emperours, that they were examples contrary to my opinion, finding that some have liv'd worthily, and shewd many rare vertues of the minde, and yet have lost the empire, and been put to death by their owne subjects, conspiring against them. intending then to answer these objections, i shall discourse upon the qualities of some emperours, declaring the occasions of their ruine, not disagreeing from that which i have alledgd; and part thereof i will bestow on the consideration of these things, which are worthy to be noted by him that reads the actions of those times: and it shall suffice me to take all those emperours that succeeded in the empire from marcus the philosopher to maximinus, who were mercus and commodus his sonne, pertinax, julian, severus, antonius, caracalla his sonne, macrinus, heliogabalus, alexander, and maximin. and first it is to be noted, that where in the other principalities, they are to contend only with the ambition of the nobles, and the insolence of the people; the romane emperours had a third difficulty, having to support the cruelty and covetousnesse of the souldiers, which was so hard a thing, that it caused the ruine of many, being hard to satisfy the souldiers, and the people; for the people love their quiet, and therefore affect modest princes; and the souldiers love a prince of a warlike courage, that is insolent, cruell, and plucking from every one: which things they would have them exercise upon the people, whereby they might be able to double their stipends, and satisfie their avarice and cruelty: whence it proceeds, that those emperours who either by nature or by art, had not such a reputation, as therewith they could curbe the one and the other, were alwayes ruind: and the most of them, specially those who as new men came to the principality, finding the difficulty of those two different humours, applyed themselves to content the souldiers, making small account of wronging the people, which was a course then necessary; for the princes not being able to escape the hatred of every one, ought first endeavour that they incurre not the hatred of any whole universality; and when they cannot attaine thereunto, they are to provide with all industry, to avoyd the hatred of those universalities that are the most mighty. and therefore those emperors, who because they were but newly call'd to the empire, had need of extraordinary favours, more willingly stuck to the soldiers, than to the people; which neverthelesse turnd to their advantage, or otherwise, according as that prince knew how to maintaine his repute with them. from these causes aforesayd proceeded it, that marcus pertinax, and alexander, though all living modestly, being lovers of justice, and enemies of cruelty, courteous and bountifull, had all from marcus on ward, miserable ends; marcus only liv'd and dy'd exceedingly honoured: for he came to the empire by inheritance, and was not to acknowledge it either from the soldiers, nor from the people: afterwards being accompanyed with many vertues, which made him venerable, he held alwayes whilst he liv'd the one and the other order within their limits, and was never either hated, or contemnd. but pertinax was created emperour against the soldiers wills, who being accustomed to live licentiously under commodus, could not endure that honest course that pertinax sought to reduce them to: whereupon having gotten himself hatred, and to this hatred added contempt, in that he was old, was ruind in the very beginning of his government. whence it ought to be observed, that hatred is gaind as well by good deeds as bad; and therefore as i formerly said, when a prince would maintaine the state, he is often forced not to be good: for when that generality, whether it be the people, or soldiers, or nobility, whereof thou thinkst thou standst in need to maintain thee, is corrupted, it behoves thee to follow their humour, and content them, and then all good deeds are thy adversaries. but let us come to alexander who was of that goodnesse, that among the prayses given him, had this for one, that in fourteen yeers wherein he held the empire, he never put any man to death, but by course of justice; neverthelesse being held effeminate, and a man that suffered himselfe to be ruled by his mother, and thereupon fallen into contempt, the army conspird against him. now on the contrary discoursing upon the qualities of commodus, severus, antonius, caracalla, and maximinus, you shall find them exceeding cruell, and ravinous, who to satisfie their soldiers, forbeare no kinde of injury that could be done upon the people; and all of them, except severus, came to evill ends: for in severus, there was such extraordinary valour, that while he held the soldiers his freinds, however the people were much burthend by him, he might alwayes reigne happily: for his valour rendred him so admirable in the souldiers and peoples sights; that these in a manner stood amazd and astonishd, and those others reverencing and honoring him. and because the actions of this man were exceeding great, being in a new prince, i will briefly shew how well he knew to act the foxes and the lions parts; the conditions of which two, i say, as before, are very necessary for a prince to imitate. severus having had experience of julian the emperours sloth, perswaded his army (whereof he was commander in sclavonia) that they should doe well to goe to rome to revenge pertinax his death, who was put to death by the imperiall guard; and under this pretence, not making any shew that he aspird unto the empire, set his army in march directly towards rome, and was sooner come into italy, than it was knowne he had mov'd from his station. being ariv'd at rome, he was by the senate chosen emperour for feare, and julian slaine. after this beginning, two difficulties yet remaind to severus, before he could make himselfe lord of the whole state; the one in asia, where niger the generall of those armies had gotten the title of emperour, the other in the west with albinus, who also aspird to the empire: and because he thought there might be some danger to discover himselfe enemy to them both, he purposed to set upon niger, and cozen albinus, to whom he writ, that being elected emperour by the senate, he would willingly communicate it with him; and thereupon sent him the title of cæsar, and by resolution of the senate, tooke him to him for his colleague; which things were taken by albinus in true meaning. but afterwards when severus had overcome and slaine niger, and pacified the affaires and in the east, being returned to rome, he complaind in the senate of albinus, how little weighing the benefits received from him, he had sought to slay him by treason, and therefore was he forc'd to goe punish his ingratitude: afterwards he went into france, where he bereft him both of his state and life, whoever then shall in particular examine his actions, shall finde he was a very cruell lion, and as crafty a fox: and shall see that he was alwayes feard and reverenc'd by every one, and by the armies not hated; and shall nothing marvell that he being a new man, was able to hold together such a great empire: for his extraordinary reputation defended him alwayes from that hatred, which the people for his extortions might have conceiv'd against him. but antonius his sonne, was also an exceeding brave man, and endued with most excellent qualities, which causd him to be admird by the people, and acceptable to the souldiers, because he was a warlike man, enduring all kind of travell and paines, despising all delicate food, and all kinde of effeminacy, which gaind him the love of all the armies: neverthelesse his fiercenesse and cruelty were such, and so hideous, having upon many particular occasions put to death a great part of the people of rome, and all those of alexandria, that he grew odious to the world, and began to be feard by those also that were neare about him; so that he was slaine by a centurion in the very midst of his army. where it is to be noted, that these kinde of deaths, which follow upon the deliberation of a resolv'd and obstinate minde, cannot by a prince be avoyded: for every one that feares not to dye, is able to doe it; but a prince ought to be lesse afraid of it because it very seldome falls out. only should he beware not to doe any extreame injury to any of those of whom he serves himself, or that he hath near about him in any imployment of his principality, as antonius did: who had reproachfully slaine a brother of that centurion; also threatned him every day, and neverthelesse entertaind him still as one of the guards of his body, which was a rash course taken, and the way to destruction, as befell him. but let us come to commodus for whom it was very easie to hold the empire, by reason it descended upon him by inheritance, being marcus his sonne, and it had been enough for him to follow his fathers footsteps, and then had he contented both the people and the soldiers: but being of a cruell and savage disposition, whereby to exercise his actions upon the people, he gave himselfe to entertaine armies, and those in all licentiousnesse. on the other part not maintaining his dignity, but often descending upon the stages to combate with fencers, and doing such other like base things, little worthy of the imperiall majesty, he became contemptible in the soldiers sight; and being hated of one part, and despisd of the other, he was conspird against, and slaine. it remaines now, that we declare maximinus his conditions, who was a very warlike man; and the armies loathing alexanders effeminacy, whereof i spake before, when they had slain him, chose this man emperour, who not long continued so, because two things there were that brought him into hatred and contempt; the one because he was very base, having kept cattell in thrace, which was well knowne to every one, and made them to scorne him; the other, because in the beginning of his principality having delayd to goe to rome, and enter into possession of the imperiall throne, he had gaind the infamy of being thought exceeding cruell, having by his prefects in rome, and in every place of the empire, exercisd many cruelties, insomuch that the whole world being provok'd against him to contempt for the basenesse of his blood; on the other side upon the hatred conceiv'd against him for feare of his crulty; first affrica, afterwards the senate, with all the people of rome and all italy, conspired against him, with whom his own army took part; which incamping before aquileya, and finding some difficulty to take the town, being weary of his cruelties, and because they saw he had so many enemies, fearing him the lesse, slew him. i purpose not to say any thing either of heliogabalus, macrinus, or julian, who because they were throughly base, were sudenly extinguished: but i will come to the conclusion of this discourse; and i say, that the princes of our times have lesse of this difficulty to satisfie the soldiers extraordinarily in their government; for notwithstanding that there be some considerations to be had of them, yet presently are those armies dissolved, because none of these princes do use to maintaine any armies together, which are annex'd and inveterated with the governments of the provinces, as were the armies of the romane empire. and therefore if then it was necessary rather to content the soldiers than the people, it was because the soldiers were more powerfull than the people: now is it more necessary for all princes, (except the turk and the souldan) to satisfie their people than their soldiers, because the people are more mighty than they; wherein i except the turk, he alwayes maintaining about his person foot, and horse, upon which depends the safety and strength of his kingdome; and it is necessary that laying aside all other regard of his people, he maintaine these his friends. the souldans kingdome is like hereunto, which being wholy in the souldiers power, he must also without respect of his people keep them his friends. and you are to consider, that this state of the souldans differs much from all the other principalities: for it is very like the papacy, which cannot be termd an hereditary principality: nor a new principality: for the sons of the deceasd prince are not heires and lords thereof, but he that is chosen receives that dignity from those who have the authority in them. and this order being of antiquity, cannot be termd a new principality, because therein are none of those difficulties that are in new ones: for though the prince be new, yet are the orders of that state ancient, and ordaind to receive him, as if he were their hereditary prince. but let us returne to our matter; whosoever shall consider our discourse before, shall perceive that either hatred, or contempt have caus'd the ruine of the afore-named emperors; and shall know also, from it came that part of them proceeding one way, and part a contrary; yet in any of them the one had a happy success, and the others unhappy: for it was of no availe, but rather hurtful for pertinax and alexander, because they were new princes, to desire to imitate marcus, who by inheritance came to the principality: and in like manner it was a wrong to caracalla, commodus, and maximus, to imitate severus, because none of them were endued with so great valor as to follow his steps therein. wherefore a new prince in his principality cannot well imitate marcus his actions; nor yet is it necessary to follow those of severus: but he ought make choyce of those parts in severus which are necessary for the founding of a state; and to take from marcus those that are fit and glorious to preserve a state which is already established and setled. chap. xx whether the citadels and many other things which princes often make use of, are profitable or dammageable. some princes, whereby they might safely keep their state, have disarmed their subjects; some others have held the towns under their dominion, divided into factions; others have maintain'd enmities against themselves; others have appli'd themselves to gain them, where they have suspected at their entrance into the government; others have built fortresses; and others again have ruined and demolished them: and however that upon all these things, a man cannot well pass a determinate sentence, unless one comes to the particulars of these states, where some such like determinations were to be taken; yet i shall speak of them in so large a manner, as the matter of it self will bear. it was never then that a new prince would disarme his own subjects; but rather when he hath found them disarmed, he hath alwaies arm'd them. for being belov'd, those armes become thine; those become faithful, which thou hadst in suspicion; and those which were faithful, are maintaind so; and thy subjects are made thy partisans; and because all thy subjects cannot be put in armes, when thou bestowest favors on those thou armest, with the others thou canst deal more for thy safety; and that difference of proceeding which they know among them, obliges them to thee; those others excuse thee, judgeing it necessary that they have deservd more, who have undergone more danger, and so have greater obligation: but when thou disarmst them, thou beginst to offend them, that thou distrustest them, either for cowardise, or small faith; and the one or the other of those two opinions provokes their hatred against thee; and because thou canst not stand disarmed, thou must then turn thy self to mercenary soldiery, whereof we have formerly spoken what it is, and when it is good; it can never be so much as to defend thee from powerful enemies, and suspected subjects; therefore as i have said, a new prince in a new principality hath alwaies ordaind them armes. of examples to this purpose, histories are full. but when a prince gains a new state, which as a member he adds to his ancient dominions, then it is necessary to disarme that state, unless it be those whom thou hast discoverd to have assisted thee in the conquest thereof; and these also in time and upon occasions, it is necessary to render delicate and effeminate, and so order them, that all the arms of thy state be in the hands of thy own soldiers, who live in thy ancient state near unto thee. our ancestors and they that were accounted sages, were wont to say that it was necessary to hold pistoya in factions, and pisa with fortresses; and for this cause maintaind some towns subject to them in differences, whereby to hold it more easily. this, at what time italy was ballanc'd in a certain manner, might be well done; but mee thinks it cannot now a dayes be well given for a precept; for i do not beleeve, that divisions made can do any good; rather it must needs be, that when the enemy approaches them, cities divided are presently lost; for alwaies the weaker part will cleave to the forrein power, and the other not be able to subsist. the venetians (as i think) mov'd by the aforesaid reasons, maintaind the factions of the guelfes and gibellins, in their townes; and however they never suffered them to spill one anothers blood, yet they nourish'd these differences among them, to the end that the citizens imployd in these quarrels, should not plot any thing against them: which as it proved, never serv'd them to any great purpose: for being defeated at vayla, presently one of those two factions took courage and seizd upon their whole state. therefore such like waies argue the princes weakness; for in a strong principality they never will suffer such divisions; for they shew them some kind of profit in time of peace, being they are able by means thereof more easily to mannage their subjects: but war comming, such like orders discover their fallacy. without doubt, princes become great, when they overcome the difficulties and oppositions that are made against them; and therefore fortune especially when she hath to make any new prince great, who hath more need to gain reputation than an hereditary prince, causes enemies to rise against him, and him to undertake against them: to the end he may have occasion to master them, and know that ladder, which his enemies have set him upon, whereby to rise yet higher. and therefore many think, that a wise prince when he hath the occasion, ought cunningly to nourish some enmity, that by the suppressing thereof, his greatness may grow thereupon. princes, especially those that are new, have found more faith and profit in those men, who in the beginning of their state, have been held suspected, than in those who at their entrance have been their confidents. pandulphus petrucci, prince of siena, governd his state, more with them that had been suspected by him, than with the others. but of this matter we cannot speak at large, because it varies according to the subject; i will only say this, that those men, who in the beginning of a principality were once enemies, if they be of quality so that to maintain themselves they have need of support, the prince might alwaies with the greatest facility gain for his; and they are the rather forced to serve him faithfully, insomuch as they know it is more necessary for them by their deeds to cancel that sinister opinion, which was once held of them; and so the prince ever draws from these more advantage, than from those, who serving him too supinely, neglect his affairs. and seing the matter requires it, i will not omit to put a prince in mind, who hath anew made himself master of a state, by means of the inward helps he had from thence that he consider well the cause that mov'd them that favor'd him to favor him, if it be not a natural affection towards him; for if it be only because they were not content with their former government, with much pains and difficulties shall he be able to keep them long his friends, because it will be impossible for him to content them. by these examples then which are drawn out of ancient and modern affaires, searching into the cause hereof, we shall find it much more easie to gain those men for friends, who formerly were contented with the state, and therefore were his enemies: than those, who because they were not contented therewith, became his fiends, and favor'd him in getting the mastery of it. it hath been the custome of princes, whereby to hold their states more securely, to build citadels, which might be bridles and curbs to those that should purpose any thing against them, and so to have a secure retreat from the first violences. i commend this course, because it hath been used of old; notwithstanding nicholas vitelli in our dayes hath been known to demolish two citadels in the town of castello, the better to keep the state; guidubaldo duke of urbin being to return into his state, out of which he was driven by cæsar borgia, raz'd all the fortresses of that countrey, and thought he should hardlyer lose that state again without them. the bentivolii returning into bolonia, used the like courses. citadels then are profitable, or not, according to the times; and if they advantage thee in one part, they do thee harme in another; and this part may be argued thus. that prince who stands more in fear of his own people than of strangers, ought to build fortresses: but he that is more afraid of strangers than of his people, should let them alone. against the house of sforza, the castle of milan, which francis sforza built, hath and will make more war, than any other disorder in that state: and therefore the best citadel that may be, is not to incurre the peoples hatred; for however thou holdest a fortress, and the people hate thee, thou canst hardly scape them; for people, when once they have taken armes, never want the help of strangers at their need to take ther parts. in our dayes we never saw that they ever profited any prince, unless it were the countess of furli, when count hieronymo of furli her husband was slain; for by means thereof she escap'd the peoples rage, and attended aid from milan, and so recover'd her state: and then such were the times that the stranger could not assist the people: but afterwards they serv'd her to little purpose, when cæsar borgia assaild her, and that the people which was her enemy, sided with the stranger. therefore both then, and at first, it would have been more for her safety, not to have been odious to the people, than to have held the fortresses. these things being well weigh'd then, i will commend those that shall build up fortresses, and him also that shall not; and i will blame him, howsoever he be, that relying upon those, shall make small account of being hated by his people. chap. xxi how a prince ought to behave himself to gain reputation. there is nothing gains a prince such repute as great exploits, and rare tryals of himself in heroick actions. we have now in our dayes ferdinand king of arragon the present king of spain: he in a manner may be termed a new prince; for from a very weak king, he is now become for fame and glory, the first king of christendome, and if you shall wel consider his actions, you shall find them all illustrious, and every one of them extraordinary. he in the beginning of his reign assaild granada, and that exploit was the ground of his state. at first he made that war in security, and without suspicion he should be any waies hindred, and therein held the barons of castiglias minds busied, who thinking upon that war, never minded any innovation; in this while he gaind credit and authority with them, they not being aware of it; was able to maintain with the church and the peoples money all his soldiers, and to lay a foundation for his military ordinances with that long war, which afterwards gaind him exceeding much honor. besides this, to the end he might be able hereamong to undertake greater matters, serving himself alwaies of the colour of religion, he gave himself to a kind of religious cruelty, chasing and dispoyling those jewes out of the kingdome; nor can this example be more admirable and rare: under the same cloke he invaded affrick and went through with his exploit in italy: and last of all hath he assaild france, and so alwaies proceeded on forwards contriving of great matters, which alwaies have held his subjects minds in peace and admiration, and busied in attending the event, what it should be: and these his actions have thus grown, one upon another, that they have never given leisure to men so to rest, as they might ever plot any thing against them. moreover it much avails a prince to give extraordinary proofes of himself touching the government within, such as those we have heard of bernard of milan, whensoever occasion is given by any one, that may effectuate some great thing either of good or evil, in the civil government; and to find out some way either to reward or punish it, whereof in the world much notice may be taken. and above all things a prince ought to endeavor in all his actions to spread abroad a fame of his magnificence and worthiness. a prince also is well esteemed, when he is a true friend, or a true enemy; when without any regard he discovers himself in favor of one against another; which course shall be alwaies more profit, than to stand neuter: for if two mighty ones that are thy neighbors, come to fall out, or are of such quality, that one of them vanquishing, thou art like to be in fear of the vanquisher, or not; in either of these two cases, it will ever prove more for thy profit, to discover thy self, and make a good war of it: for in the first case, if thou discoverest not thy selfe, thou shalt alwaies be a prey to him that overcomes, to the contentment and satisfaction of the vanquisht; neither shalt thou have reason on thy side, nor any thing else to defend or receive thee. for he that overcomes, will not have any suspected friends that give him no assistance in his necessity: and he that loses, receives thee not, because thou wouldest not with thy armes in hand run the hazzard of his fortune. antiochus passed into greece, thereunto induc'd by the etolians, to chace the romans thence: and sent his ambassadors to the achayans, who were the romans friends, to perswade them to stand neuters; on the other side the romans moved them to joyne armes with theirs: this matter came to be deliberated on in the council of the achayans, where antiochus his ambassador encouraged them to stand neuters, whereunto the romans ambassador answerd; touching the course, that is commended to you, as best and profitablest for your state, to wit, not to intermeddle in the war between us, nothing can be more against you: because, not taking either part, you shall remain without thanks, and without reputation a prey to the conqueror. and it will alwaies come to pass that he who is not thy friend, will requite thy neutrality; and he that is thy friend, will urge thee to discover thy self by taking arms for him: and evil advised princes; to avoyd the present dangers, folow often times that way of neutrality, and most commonly go to ruine: but when a prince discovers himself strongly in favor of a party; if he to whom thou cleavest, overcomes; however that he be puissant, and thou remainest at his disposing, he is oblig'd to thee, and there is a contract of friendship made; and men are never so openly dishonest, as with such a notorious example of dishonesty to oppress thee. besides victories are never so prosperous, that the conqueror is like neglect all respects, and especially of justice. but if he to whom thou stickst, loses, thou art received by him; and, while he is able, he aydes thee, and so thou becomest partner of a fortune that may arise again; the second case, when they that enter into the lists together, are of such quality, that thou needest not fear him that vanquisheth, so much the more is it discretion in thee to stick to him; for thou goest to ruine one with his assistance, who ought to do the best he could to save him, if he were well advised; and he overcomming, is left at thy discretion; and it is unpossible but with thy ayd he must overcome. and here it is to be noted, that a prince should be well aware never to joyn with any one more powerfull than himself, to offend another, unless upon necessity, as formerly is said. for when he overcomes, thou art left at his discretion, and princes ought avoid as much as they are able, to stand at anothers discretion. the venetians took part with france against the duke of milan, and yet could have avoided that partaking, from which proceeded their ruine. but when it cannot be avoyded, as it befel the florentines when the pope and the king of spain went both with their armies to lombardy, there the prince ought to side with them for the reasons aforesaid. nor let any state think they are able to make such sure parties, but rather that they are all doubtfull; for in the order of things we find it alwaies, that whensoever a man seeks to avoid one inconvenient, he incurs another. but the principal point of judgement, is in discerning between the qualities of inconvenients, and not taking the bad for the good. moreover a prince ought to shew himself a lover of vertue, and that he honors those that excel in every art. afterwards ought he encourage his citizens, whereby they may be enabled quickly to exercise their faculties as well in merchandise, and husbandry, as in any other kind of traffick, to the end that no man forbear to adorne and cultivate his possessions for fear that he be despoyled of them; or any other to open the commerce upon the danger of heavy impositions: but rather to provide rewards for those that shall set these matters afoot, or for any one else that shall any way amplifie his city or state. besides he ought in the fit times of the year entertain the people with feasts and maskes; and because every city is devided into companies, and arts, and tribes, he ought to take special notice of those bodies, and some times afford them a meeting, and give them some proof of his humanity, and magnificence; yet withall holding firme the majestie of his state; for this must never fail in any case. chap. xxii touching princes secretaries. it is no small importance to a prince, the choyce he makes, of servants being ordinarily good or bad, as his wisdome is. and the first conjecture one gives of a great man, and of his understanding, is, upon the sight of his followers and servants he hath about him, when they prove able and faithful, and then may he alwaies be reputed wise because he hath known how to discern those that are able, and to keep them true to him. but when they are otherwise, there can be no good conjecture made of him; for the first error he commits, is in this choyce. there was no man that had any knowledge of antonio of vanafro, the servant of pandulfus petrucci prince of sicily, who did not esteem pandulfus for a very discreet man, having him for his servant. and because there are three kinds of understandings; the one that is advised by it self; the other that understands when it is informed by another; the third that neither is advised by it self nor by the demonstration of another; the first is best, the second is good, and the last quite unprofitable. therefore it was of necessity, that if pandulfus attaind not the first degree, yet he got to the second; for whenever any one hath the judgement to discerne between the good and the evil, that he does and sayes, however that he hath not his distinction from himself, yet still comes he to take notice of the good or evil actions of that servant; and those he cherishes, and these he suppresses; insomuch that the servant finding no means to deceive his master, keeps himself upright and honest. but how a prince may throughly understand his servant, here is the way that never fails. when thou seest the servant study more for his own advantage than thine, and that in all his actions, he searches most after his own profit; this man thus qualified, shall never prove good servant, nor canst thou ever relie upon him: for he that holds the sterne of the state in hand, ought never call home his cares to his own particular, but give himself wholly over to his princes service, nor ever put him in minde of any thing not appertaining to him. and on the other side the prince to keep him good to him, ought to take a care for his servant, honoring him, enriching, and obliging him to him, giving him part both of dignities and offices, to the end that the many honors and much wealth bestowed on him, may restrain his desires from other honors, and other wealth, and that those many charges cause him to fear changes that may fall, knowing he is not able to stand without his master. and when both the princes and the servants are thus disposed, they may rely the one upon the other: when otherwise, the end will ever prove hurtfull for the one as well as for the other. chap. xxiii that flatterers are to be avoyded. i will not omit one principle of great inportance, being an errour from which princes with much difficulty defend themselves, unlesse they be very discreet, and make a very good choice; and this is concerning flatterers; whereof all writings are full: and that because men please themselves so much in their own things, and therein cozen themselves, that very hardly can they escape this pestilence; and desiring to escape it, there is danger of falling into contempt; for there is no other way to be secure from flattery, but to let men know, that they displease thee not in telling thee truth: but when every one hath this leave, thou losest thy reverence. therefore ought a wise prince take a third course, making choyce of some understanding men in his state, and give only to them a free liberty of speaking to him the truth; and touching those things only which he inquires of, and nothing else; but he ought to be inquisitive of every thing, and hear their opinions, and then afterwards advise himself after his own manner; and in these deliberations, and with every one of them so carrie himself, that they all know, that the more freely they shall speak, the better they shall be liked of: and besides those, not give eare to any one; and thus pursue the thing resolved on, and thence continue obstinate in the resolution taken. he who does otherwise, either falls upon flatterers, or often changes upon the varying of opinions, from whence proceeds it that men conceive but slightly of him. to this purpose i will alledge you a moderne example. peter lucas a servant of maximilians the present emperor, speaking of his majesty, said that he never advised with any body, nor never did any thing after his own way: which was because he took a contrary course to what we have now said: for the emperor is a close man, who communicates his secrets to none, nor takes counsel of any one; but as they come to be put in practise, they begin to be discovered and known, and so contradicted by those that are near about him; and he as being an easy man, is quickly wrought from them. whence it comes that what he does to day, he undoes on the morrow; and that he never understands himself what he would, nor what he purposes, and that there is no grounding upon any of his resolutions. a prince therefore ought alwayes to take counsell, but at his owne pleasure, and not at other mens; or rather should take away any mans courage to advise him of any thing, but what he askes: but he ought well to aske at large, and then touching the things inquird of, be a patient hearer of the truth; and perceiving that for some respect the truth were conceald from him, be displeased thereat. and because some men have thought that a prince that gaines the opinion to bee wise, may bee held so, not by his owne naturall indowments, but by the good counsells he hath about him; without question they are deceivd; for this is a generall rule and never failes, that a prince who of himselfe is not wise, can never be well advised, unlesse he should light upon one alone, wholly to direct and govern him, who himself were a very wise man. in this case it is possible he may be well governd: but this would last but little: for that governor in a short time would deprive him of his state; but a prince not having any parts of nature, being advised of more then one, shall never be able to unite these counsels: of himself shall he never know how to unite them; and each one of the counsellers, probably will follow that which is most properly his owne; and he shall never find the meanes to amend or discerne these things; nor can they fall out otherwise, because men alwayes prove mischievous, unlesse upon some necessity they be forc'd to become good: we conclude therefore, that counsells from whencesoever they proceed, must needs take their beginning from the princes wisdome, and not the wisdome of the prince from good counsells. in this chapter our authour prescribes some rules how to avoyd flattery, and not to fall into contempt. the extent of these two extreames is so large on both sides, that there is left but a very narrow path for the right temper to walke between them both: and happy were that prince, who could light on so good a pilote as to bring him to port between those rocks and those quicksands. where majesty becomes familiar, unlesse endued with a super-eminent vertue, it loses all awfull regards: as the light of the sunne, because so ordinary, because so common, we should little value, were it not that all creatures feele themselves quickned by the rayes thereof. on the other side, _omnis insipiens arrogantiâ et plausibus capitur_, every foole is taken with his owne pride and others flatteryes: and this foole keeps company so much with all great wise men, that hardly with a candle and lantern can they be discernd betwixt. the greatest men are more subject to grosse and palpable flatteries; and especially the greatest of men, who are kings and princes: for many seek the rulers favour. _prov._ . . for there are divers meanes whereby private men are instructed; princes have not that good hap: but they whose instruction is of most importance, so soone as they have taken the government upon them, no longer suffer any reproovers: for but few have accesse unto them, and they who familiary converse with them, doe and say all for favour. isocrat, to nicocles, all are afraid to give him occasion of displeasure, though by telling him truth. to this purpose therefore sayes one; a prince excells in learning to ride the great horse, rather than in any other exercise, because his horse being no flatterer, will shew him he makes no difference between him and another man, and unlesse he keepe his seate well, will lay him on the ground. this is plaine dealing. men are more subtile, more double-hearted, they have a heart and a heart neither is their tongue their hearts true interpreter. counsell in the heart of man is like deepe waters; but a man of understanding will draw it out. _prov._ . . this understanding is most requisite in a prince, inasmuch as the whole globe is in his hand, and the inferiour orbes are swayed by the motion of the highest. and therefore surely it is the honour of a king to search out such a secret: _prov._ . . his counsellours are his eyes and eares; as they ought to be dear to him, so they ought to be true to him, and make him the true report of things without disguise. if they prove false eyes, let him pluck them out; he may as they use glasse eyes, take them forth without paine, and see never a whit the worse for it. the wisdome of a princes counsellours is a great argument of the princes wisdome. and being the choyce of them imports the princes credit and safety, our authour will make him amends for his other errours by his good advice in his chap. whether i referre him. chap. xxiv wherefore the princes of italy have lost their states. when these things above said are well observ'd, they make a new prince seeme as if he had been of old, and presently render him more secure and firme in the state, than if he had already grown ancient therein: for a new prince is much more observd in his action, than a prince by inheritance; and when they are known to bee vertuous, men are much more gaind and oblig'd to them thereby, than by the antiquity of their blood: for men are much more taken by things present, than by things past, and when in the present they find good, they content themselves therein, and seeke no further; or rather they undertake the defence of him to their utmost, when the prince is not wanting in other matters to himself; and so shall he gaine double glory to have given a beginning to a new principality, adornd, and strengthnd it with good lawes, good arms, good friends, and good examples; as he shall have double shame, that is born a prince, and by reason of his small discretion hath lost it. and if we shall consider those lords, that in italy have lost their states in our dayes, as the king of naples, the duke of milan, and others; first we shall find in them a common defect, touching their armes, for the reasons which have been above discoursd at length. afterwards we shall see some of them, that either shall have had the people for their enemies; or be it they had the people to friend, could never know how to assure themselves of the great ones: for without such defects as these, states are not lost, which have so many nerves, that they are able to maintaine an army in the feld. philip of macedon, not the father of alexander the great, but he that was vanquished by titus quintius, had not much state in regard of the greatnesse of the romanes and of greece that assail'd him; neverthelesse in that he was a warlike man and knew how to entertaine the people, and assure himself of the nobles, for many yeares he made the warre good against them: and though at last some town perhaps were taken from him, yet the kingdome remaind in his hands still. wherefore these our princes who for many yeares had continued in their principalities, for having afterwards lost them, let them not blame fortune, but their own sloth; because they never having thought during the time of quiet, that they could suffer a change (which is the common fault of men, while faire weather lasts, not to provide for the tempest) when afterwards mischiefes came upon them, thought rather upon flying from them, than upon their defence, and hop'd that the people, weary of the vanquishers insolence, would recall them: which course when the others faile, is good: but very ill is it to leave the other remedies for that: for a man wou'd never go to fall, beleeving another would come to take him up: which may either not come to passe, or if it does, it is not for thy security, because that defence of his is vile, and depends not upon thee; but those defences only are good, certaine, and durable, which depend upon thy owne selfe, and thy owne vertues. chap. xxv how great power fortune hath in humane affaires, and what meanes there is to resist it. it is not unknown unto me, how that many have held opinion, and still hold it, that the affaires of the world are so governd by fortune, and by god, that men by their wisdome cannot amend or alter them; or rather that there is no remedy for them: and hereupon they would think that it were of no availe to take much paines in any thing, but leave all to be governd by chance. this opinion hath gain'd the more credit in our dayes, by reason of the great alteration of things, which we have of late seen, and do every day see, beyond all humane conjecture: upon which, i sometimes thinking, am in some parte inclind to their opinion: neverthelesse not to extinguish quite our owne free will, i think it may be true, that fortune is the mistrisse of one halfe of our actions; but yet that she lets us have rule of the other half, or little lesse. and i liken her to a precipitous torrent, which when it rages, over-flows the plaines, overthrowes the trees, and buildings, removes the earth from one side, and laies it on another, every one flyes before it, every one yeelds to the fury thereof, as unable to withstand it; and yet however it be thus, when the times are calmer, men are able to make provision against these excesses, with banks and fences so, that afterwards when it swels again, it shall all passe smoothly along, within its channell, or else the violence thereof shall not prove so licentious and hurtfull. in like manner befals it us with fortune, which there shewes her power where vertue is not ordeind to resist her, and thither turnes she all her forces, where she perceives that no provisions nor resistances are made to uphold her. and if you shall consider italy, which is the seat of these changes, and that which hath given them their motions, you shall see it to be a plaine field, without any trench or bank; which had it been fenc'd with convenient vertue as was germany, spain or france; this inundation would never have causd these great alterations it hath, or else would it not have reach'd to us: and this shall suffice to have said, touching the opposing of fortune in generall. but restraining my selfe more to particulars, i say that to day we see a prince prosper and flourish and to morrow utterly go to ruine; not seeing that he hath alterd any condition or quality; which i beleeve arises first from the causes which we have long since run over, that is because that prince that relies wholly upon fortune, runnes as her wheele turnes. i beleeve also, that he proves the fortunate man, whose manner of proceeding meets with the quality of the time; and so likewise he unfortunate from whose course of proceeding the times differ: for we see that men, in the things that induce them to the end, (which every one propounds to himselfe, as glory and riches) proceed therein diversly; some with respects, others more bold, and rashly; one with violence, and th'other with cunning; the one with patience, th'other with its contrary; and every one of severall wayes may attaine thereto; we see also two very respective and wary men, the one come to his purpose, and th'other not; and in like maner two equally prosper, taking divers course; the one being wary the other head-strong; which proceeds from nothing else, but from the quality of the times, which agree, or not, with their proceedings. from hence arises that which i said, that two working diversly, produce the same effect: and two equaly working, the one attains his end, the other not. hereupon depends the alteration of the good; for if to one that behaves himself with warinesse and patience, times and affaires turne so favourably, that the carriage of his businesse prove well, he prospers; but if the times and affaires chance, he is ruind, because he changes not his manner of proceeding: nor is there any man so wise, that can frame himselfe hereunto; as well because he cannot go out of the way, from that whereunto nature inclines him: as also, for that one having alwayes prosperd, walking such a way, cannot be perswaded to leave it; and therefore the respective and wary man, when it is fit time for him to use violence and force, knows not how to put it in practice, whereupon he is ruind: but if he could change his disposition with the times and the affaires, he should not change his fortune. pope julius the second proceeded in all his actions with very great violence, and found the times and things so conformable to that his manner of proceeding that in all of them he had happy successe. consider the first exploit he did at bolonia, even while john bentivolio lived: the venetians were not well contented therewith; the king of spaine likewise with the french, had treated of that enterprise; and notwithstanding al this, he stirrd up by his own rage and fiercenesse, personally undertook that expedition: which action of his put in suspence and stopt spaine and the venetians; those for feare, and the others for desire to recover the kingdome of naples; and on the other part drew after him the king of france; for that king seeing him already in motion, and desiring to hold him his friend, whereby to humble the venetians, thought he could no way deny him his souldiers, without doing him an open injury. julius then effected that with his violent and heady motion, which no other pope with all humane wisdome could ever have done; for if he had expected to part from rome with his conclusions settled, and all his affaires ordered before hand, as any other pope would have done, he had never brought it to passe: for the king of france would have devised a thousand excuses, and others would have put him in as many feares. i will let passe his other actions, for all of them were alike, and all of them prov'd lucky to him; and the brevity of his life never sufferd him to feele the contrary: for had he litt upon such times afterwards, that it had been necessary for him to proceed with respects, there had been his utter ruine; for he would never have left those wayes, to which he had been naturally inclind. i conclude then, fortune varying, and men continuing still obstinate to their own wayes, prove happy, while these accord together: and as they disagree, prove unhappy: and i think it true, that it is better to be heady than wary; because fortune is a mistresse; and it is necessary, to keep her in obedience to ruffle and force her: and we see, that she suffers her self rather to be masterd by those, than by others that proceed coldly. and therefore, as a mistresse, shee is a friend to young men, because they are lesse respective, more rough, and command her with more boldnesse. i have considered the chapter, as representing me a full view of humane policy and cunning: yet me thinks it cannot satisfie a christian in the causes of the good and bad successe of things. the life of man is like a game at tables; skill availes much i grant, but that's not all: play thy game well, but that will not winne: the chance thou throwest must accord with thy play. examine this; play never so surely, play never so probably, unlesse the chance thou castest, lead thee forward to advantage, all hazards are losses, and thy sure play leaves thee in the lurch. the sum of this is set down in ecclesiastes chap. . v. . the race is not to the swift, nor the battell to the strong: neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance hapeneth to them all. our cunning author for all his exact rules he delivere in his books, could not fence against the despight of fortune, as he complaines in his epistle to this booke. nor that great example of policy, duke valentine, whome our author commends to princes for his crafts-master, could so ruffle or force his mistresse fortune, that he could keep her in obedience. man can contribute no more to his actions than vertue and wisdome: but the successe depends upon a power above. surely there is the finger of god; or as prov. . v. . 'the lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposing thereof is of the lord.' it was not josephs wisdome made all things thrive under his hand; but because the lord was with him; and that which he did, the lord made it to prosper, gen. . surely this is a blessing proceeding from the divine providence, which beyond humane capacity so cooperateth with the causes, as that their effects prove answerable, and sometimes (that we may know there is something above the ordinary causes) the success returns with such a supereminency of worth, that it far exceeds the vertue of the ordinary causes. chap. xxvi an exhortation to free italy from the barbarians. having then weighed all things above discours'd, and devising with my self, whether at this present in italy the time might serve to honor a new prince, and whether there were matter that might minister occasion to a wise and valorous prince, to introduce such a forme, that might do honor to him, and good to the whole generality of the people in the countrey: me thinks so many things concurre in favor of a new prince, that i know not whether there were ever any time more proper for this purpose. and if as i said, it was necessary, desiring to see moses his vertue, that the children of israel should be inthrald in Ægypt; and to have experience of the magnanimity of cyrus his mind, that the persians should be oppress'd by the medes; and to set forth the excellency of theseus, that the athenians should be dispersed; so at this present now we are desirous to know the valor of an italian spirit, it were necessary italy should be reduc'd to the same termes it is now in, and were in more slavery than the hebrews were; more subject than the persians, more scatterd than the athenians; without head, without order, battered, pillaged, rent asunder, overrun, and had undergone all kind of destruction. and however even in these later dayes, we have had some kind of shew of hope in some one, whereby we might have conjectur'd, that he had been ordained for the deliverance hereof, yet it prov'd afterwards, that in the very height of all his actions he was curb'd by fortune, insomuch that this poore countrey remaining as it were without life, attends still for him that shall heal her wounds, give an end to all those pillagings and sackings of lombardy, to those robberies and taxations of the kingdome, and of tuscany, and heal them of their soars, now this long time gangren'd. we see how she makes her prayers to god, that he send some one to redeem her from these barbarous cruelties and insolencies. we see her also wholly ready and disposed to follow any colours, provided there be any one take them up. nor do we see at this present, that she can look for other, than your illustrious family, to become cheiftain of this deliverance, which hath now by its own vertue and fortune been so much exalted, and favored by god and the church, whereof it now holds the principality: and this shall not be very hard for you to do, if you shall call to mind the former actions, and lives of those that are above named. and though those men were very rare and admirable, yet were they men, and every one of them began upon less occasion than this; for neither was their enterprize more just than this, nor more easie; nor was god more their friend, than yours. here is very great justice: for that war is just, that is necessary; and those armes are religious, when there is no hope left otherwhere, but in them. here is an exceeding good disposition thereto: nor can there be, where there is a good disposition, a giant difficulty, provided that use be made of those orders, which i propounded for aim and direction to you. besides this, here we see extraordinary things without example effected by god; the sea was opened, a cloud guided the way, devotion poured forth the waters, and it rain'd down manna; all these things have concurred in your greatness, the rest is left for you to do. god will not do every thing himself, that he may not take from us our free will, and of that glory that belongs to us. neither is it a marvel, if any of the aforenamed italians have not been able to compass that, which we may hope your illustrious family shall: though in so many revolutions of italy, and so many feats of war, it may seem that the whole military vertue therein be quite extinguisht; for this arises from that the ancient orders thereof were not good; and there hath since been none that hath known how to invent new ones. nothing can so much honor a man rising anew, as new laws and new ordinances devised by him: these things when they have a good foundation given them, and contain in them their due greatness, gain him reverence and admiration; and in italy their wants not the matter wherein to introduce any forme. here is great vertue in the members, were it not wanting in the heads. consider in the single fights that have been, and duels, how much the italians have excel'd in their strength, activity and address; but when they come to armies, they appear not, and all proceeds from the weakness of the chieftaines; for they that understand the managing of these matters, are not obeyed; and every one presumes to understand; hitherto there having not been any one so highly raised either by fortune or vertue, as that others would submit unto him. from hence proceeds it, that in so long time, and in so many battels fought for these last past years, when there hath been an army wholly italian, it alwaies hath had evil success; whereof the river tarus first was witness, afterwards alexandria, capua, genua, vayla, bolonia, mestri. your illustrious family then being desirous to tread the footsteps of these worthyes who redeem'd their countreys, must above all things as the very foundation of the whole fabrick, be furnished with soldiers of your own natives: because you cannot have more faithful, true, nor better soldiers; and though every one of them be good, all together they will become better when they shall find themselves entertained, commanded, and honored by their own prince. wherefore it is necessary to provide for those armes, whereby to be able with the italian valor to make a defence against forreiners. and however the swisse infantry and spanish be accounted terrible; yet is there defect in both of them, by which a third order might not only oppose them, but may be confident to vanquish them: for the spaniards are not able to indure the horse, and the swisse are to feare the foot, when they incounter with them, as resolute in the fight as they; whereupon it hath been seen, and upon experience shall be certain, that the spaniards are not able to beare up against the french cavalery, and the swisses have been routed by the spanish foot. and though touching this last, there hath not been any entire experience had, yet was there some proof thereof given in the battel of ravenna, when the spanish foot affronted the dutch battalions, which keep the same rank the swisses do, where the spaniards with their nimbleness of body, and the help of their targets entred in under their pikes, and there stood safe to offend them, the dutch men having no remedy: and had it not been for the cavalery that rusht in upon them, they had quite defeated them. there may then (the defect of the one and other of these two infantries being discoverd) another kind of them be anew ordained, which may be able to make resistance against the horse, and not fear the foot, which shall not be a new sort of armes, but change of orders. and these are some of those things which ordained a new, gain reputation and greatness to a new prince. therefore this occasion should not be let pass, to the end that italy after so long a time may see some one redeemer of hers appear. nor can i express with what dearness of affection he would be received in all those countreys which have suffered by those forrein scums, with what thirst of revenge, with what resolution of fidelity, with what piety, with what tears. would any gates be shut again him? any people deny him obedience? any envy oppose him? would not every italian fully consent with him? this government of the barbarians stinks in every ones nostrils. let your illustrious family then undertake this worthy exployt with that courage and those hopes wherewith such just actions are to be attempted; to the end that under your colours, this countrey may be enabled, and under the protection of your fortune that saying of petrarch be verifyed. _virtù contr' al fuore prendera l'arme, e fia il combatter corto: che l'antico valore ne gli italici cor non è morto._ vertue against fury shall advance the fight, and it i' th' combate soon shall put to flight: for th' old roman valor is not dead, nor in th' italians brests extinguished. finis the prince by nicolo machiavelli translated by w. k. marriott nicolo machiavelli, born at florence on rd may . from to held an official post at florence which included diplomatic missions to various european courts. imprisoned in florence, ; later exiled and returned to san casciano. died at florence on nd june . introduction nicolo machiavelli was born at florence on rd may . he was the second son of bernardo di nicolo machiavelli, a lawyer of some repute, and of bartolommea di stefano nelli, his wife. both parents were members of the old florentine nobility. his life falls naturally into three periods, each of which singularly enough constitutes a distinct and important era in the history of florence. his youth was concurrent with the greatness of florence as an italian power under the guidance of lorenzo de' medici, il magnifico. the downfall of the medici in florence occurred in , in which year machiavelli entered the public service. during his official career florence was free under the government of a republic, which lasted until , when the medici returned to power, and machiavelli lost his office. the medici again ruled florence from until , when they were once more driven out. this was the period of machiavelli's literary activity and increasing influence; but he died, within a few weeks of the expulsion of the medici, on nd june , in his fifty-eighth year, without having regained office. youth -- aet. - -- - although there is little recorded of the youth of machiavelli, the florence of those days is so well known that the early environment of this representative citizen may be easily imagined. florence has been described as a city with two opposite currents of life, one directed by the fervent and austere savonarola, the other by the splendour-loving lorenzo. savonarola's influence upon the young machiavelli must have been slight, for although at one time he wielded immense power over the fortunes of florence, he only furnished machiavelli with a subject of a gibe in "the prince," where he is cited as an example of an unarmed prophet who came to a bad end. whereas the magnificence of the medicean rule during the life of lorenzo appeared to have impressed machiavelli strongly, for he frequently recurs to it in his writings, and it is to lorenzo's grandson that he dedicates "the prince." machiavelli, in his "history of florence," gives us a picture of the young men among whom his youth was passed. he writes: "they were freer than their forefathers in dress and living, and spent more in other kinds of excesses, consuming their time and money in idleness, gaming, and women; their chief aim was to appear well dressed and to speak with wit and acuteness, whilst he who could wound others the most cleverly was thought the wisest." in a letter to his son guido, machiavelli shows why youth should avail itself of its opportunities for study, and leads us to infer that his own youth had been so occupied. he writes: "i have received your letter, which has given me the greatest pleasure, especially because you tell me you are quite restored in health, than which i could have no better news; for if god grant life to you, and to me, i hope to make a good man of you if you are willing to do your share." then, writing of a new patron, he continues: "this will turn out well for you, but it is necessary for you to study; since, then, you have no longer the excuse of illness, take pains to study letters and music, for you see what honour is done to me for the little skill i have. therefore, my son, if you wish to please me, and to bring success and honour to yourself, do right and study, because others will help you if you help yourself." office -- aet. - -- - the second period of machiavelli's life was spent in the service of the free republic of florence, which flourished, as stated above, from the expulsion of the medici in until their return in . after serving four years in one of the public offices he was appointed chancellor and secretary to the second chancery, the ten of liberty and peace. here we are on firm ground when dealing with the events of machiavelli's life, for during this time he took a leading part in the affairs of the republic, and we have its decrees, records, and dispatches to guide us, as well as his own writings. a mere recapitulation of a few of his transactions with the statesmen and soldiers of his time gives a fair indication of his activities, and supplies the sources from which he drew the experiences and characters which illustrate "the prince." his first mission was in to catherina sforza, "my lady of forli" of "the prince," from whose conduct and fate he drew the moral that it is far better to earn the confidence of the people than to rely on fortresses. this is a very noticeable principle in machiavelli, and is urged by him in many ways as a matter of vital importance to princes. in he was sent to france to obtain terms from louis xii for continuing the war against pisa: this king it was who, in his conduct of affairs in italy, committed the five capital errors in statecraft summarized in "the prince," and was consequently driven out. he, also, it was who made the dissolution of his marriage a condition of support to pope alexander vi; which leads machiavelli to refer those who urge that such promises should be kept to what he has written concerning the faith of princes. machiavelli's public life was largely occupied with events arising out of the ambitions of pope alexander vi and his son, cesare borgia, the duke valentino, and these characters fill a large space of "the prince." machiavelli never hesitates to cite the actions of the duke for the benefit of usurpers who wish to keep the states they have seized; he can, indeed, find no precepts to offer so good as the pattern of cesare borgia's conduct, insomuch that cesare is acclaimed by some critics as the "hero" of "the prince." yet in "the prince" the duke is in point of fact cited as a type of the man who rises on the fortune of others, and falls with them; who takes every course that might be expected from a prudent man but the course which will save him; who is prepared for all eventualities but the one which happens; and who, when all his abilities fail to carry him through, exclaims that it was not his fault, but an extraordinary and unforeseen fatality. on the death of pius iii, in , machiavelli was sent to rome to watch the election of his successor, and there he saw cesare borgia cheated into allowing the choice of the college to fall on giuliano delle rovere (julius ii), who was one of the cardinals that had most reason to fear the duke. machiavelli, when commenting on this election, says that he who thinks new favours will cause great personages to forget old injuries deceives himself. julius did not rest until he had ruined cesare. it was to julius ii that machiavelli was sent in , when that pontiff was commencing his enterprise against bologna; which he brought to a successful issue, as he did many of his other adventures, owing chiefly to his impetuous character. it is in reference to pope julius that machiavelli moralizes on the resemblance between fortune and women, and concludes that it is the bold rather than the cautious man that will win and hold them both. it is impossible to follow here the varying fortunes of the italian states, which in were controlled by france, spain, and germany, with results that have lasted to our day; we are concerned with those events, and with the three great actors in them, so far only as they impinge on the personality of machiavelli. he had several meetings with louis xii of france, and his estimate of that monarch's character has already been alluded to. machiavelli has painted ferdinand of aragon as the man who accomplished great things under the cloak of religion, but who in reality had no mercy, faith, humanity, or integrity; and who, had he allowed himself to be influenced by such motives, would have been ruined. the emperor maximilian was one of the most interesting men of the age, and his character has been drawn by many hands; but machiavelli, who was an envoy at his court in - , reveals the secret of his many failures when he describes him as a secretive man, without force of character--ignoring the human agencies necessary to carry his schemes into effect, and never insisting on the fulfilment of his wishes. the remaining years of machiavelli's official career were filled with events arising out of the league of cambrai, made in between the three great european powers already mentioned and the pope, with the object of crushing the venetian republic. this result was attained in the battle of vaila, when venice lost in one day all that she had won in eight hundred years. florence had a difficult part to play during these events, complicated as they were by the feud which broke out between the pope and the french, because friendship with france had dictated the entire policy of the republic. when, in , julius ii finally formed the holy league against france, and with the assistance of the swiss drove the french out of italy, florence lay at the mercy of the pope, and had to submit to his terms, one of which was that the medici should be restored. the return of the medici to florence on st september , and the consequent fall of the republic, was the signal for the dismissal of machiavelli and his friends, and thus put an end to his public career, for, as we have seen, he died without regaining office. literature and death -- aet. - -- - on the return of the medici, machiavelli, who for a few weeks had vainly hoped to retain his office under the new masters of florence, was dismissed by decree dated th november . shortly after this he was accused of complicity in an abortive conspiracy against the medici, imprisoned, and put to the question by torture. the new medicean pope, leo x, procured his release, and he retired to his small property at san casciano, near florence, where he devoted himself to literature. in a letter to francesco vettori, dated th december , he has left a very interesting description of his life at this period, which elucidates his methods and his motives in writing "the prince." after describing his daily occupations with his family and neighbours, he writes: "the evening being come, i return home and go to my study; at the entrance i pull off my peasant-clothes, covered with dust and dirt, and put on my noble court dress, and thus becomingly re-clothed i pass into the ancient courts of the men of old, where, being lovingly received by them, i am fed with that food which is mine alone; where i do not hesitate to speak with them, and to ask for the reason of their actions, and they in their benignity answer me; and for four hours i feel no weariness, i forget every trouble, poverty does not dismay, death does not terrify me; i am possessed entirely by those great men. and because dante says: knowledge doth come of learning well retained, unfruitful else, i have noted down what i have gained from their conversation, and have composed a small work on 'principalities,' where i pour myself out as fully as i can in meditation on the subject, discussing what a principality is, what kinds there are, how they can be acquired, how they can be kept, why they are lost: and if any of my fancies ever pleased you, this ought not to displease you: and to a prince, especially to a new one, it should be welcome: therefore i dedicate it to his magnificence giuliano. filippo casavecchio has seen it; he will be able to tell you what is in it, and of the discourses i have had with him; nevertheless, i am still enriching and polishing it." the "little book" suffered many vicissitudes before attaining the form in which it has reached us. various mental influences were at work during its composition; its title and patron were changed; and for some unknown reason it was finally dedicated to lorenzo de' medici. although machiavelli discussed with casavecchio whether it should be sent or presented in person to the patron, there is no evidence that lorenzo ever received or even read it: he certainly never gave machiavelli any employment. although it was plagiarized during machiavelli's lifetime, "the prince" was never published by him, and its text is still disputable. machiavelli concludes his letter to vettori thus: "and as to this little thing [his book], when it has been read it will be seen that during the fifteen years i have given to the study of statecraft i have neither slept nor idled; and men ought ever to desire to be served by one who has reaped experience at the expense of others. and of my loyalty none could doubt, because having always kept faith i could not now learn how to break it; for he who has been faithful and honest, as i have, cannot change his nature; and my poverty is a witness to my honesty." before machiavelli had got "the prince" off his hands he commenced his "discourse on the first decade of titus livius," which should be read concurrently with "the prince." these and several minor works occupied him until the year , when he accepted a small commission to look after the affairs of some florentine merchants at genoa. in the medicean rulers of florence granted a few political concessions to her citizens, and machiavelli with others was consulted upon a new constitution under which the great council was to be restored; but on one pretext or another it was not promulgated. in the florentine merchants again had recourse to machiavelli to settle their difficulties with lucca, but this year was chiefly remarkable for his re-entry into florentine literary society, where he was much sought after, and also for the production of his "art of war." it was in the same year that he received a commission at the instance of cardinal de' medici to write the "history of florence," a task which occupied him until . his return to popular favour may have determined the medici to give him this employment, for an old writer observes that "an able statesman out of work, like a huge whale, will endeavour to overturn the ship unless he has an empty cask to play with." when the "history of florence" was finished, machiavelli took it to rome for presentation to his patron, giuliano de' medici, who had in the meanwhile become pope under the title of clement vii. it is somewhat remarkable that, as, in , machiavelli had written "the prince" for the instruction of the medici after they had just regained power in florence, so, in , he dedicated the "history of florence" to the head of the family when its ruin was now at hand. in that year the battle of pavia destroyed the french rule in italy, and left francis i a prisoner in the hands of his great rival, charles v. this was followed by the sack of rome, upon the news of which the popular party at florence threw off the yoke of the medici, who were once more banished. machiavelli was absent from florence at this time, but hastened his return, hoping to secure his former office of secretary to the "ten of liberty and peace." unhappily he was taken ill soon after he reached florence, where he died on nd june . the man and his works no one can say where the bones of machiavelli rest, but modern florence has decreed him a stately cenotaph in santa croce, by the side of her most famous sons; recognizing that, whatever other nations may have found in his works, italy found in them the idea of her unity and the germs of her renaissance among the nations of europe. whilst it is idle to protest against the world-wide and evil signification of his name, it may be pointed out that the harsh construction of his doctrine which this sinister reputation implies was unknown to his own day, and that the researches of recent times have enabled us to interpret him more reasonably. it is due to these inquiries that the shape of an "unholy necromancer," which so long haunted men's vision, has begun to fade. machiavelli was undoubtedly a man of great observation, acuteness, and industry; noting with appreciative eye whatever passed before him, and with his supreme literary gift turning it to account in his enforced retirement from affairs. he does not present himself, nor is he depicted by his contemporaries, as a type of that rare combination, the successful statesman and author, for he appears to have been only moderately prosperous in his several embassies and political employments. he was misled by catherina sforza, ignored by louis xii, overawed by cesare borgia; several of his embassies were quite barren of results; his attempts to fortify florence failed, and the soldiery that he raised astonished everybody by their cowardice. in the conduct of his own affairs he was timid and time-serving; he dared not appear by the side of soderini, to whom he owed so much, for fear of compromising himself; his connection with the medici was open to suspicion, and giuliano appears to have recognized his real forte when he set him to write the "history of florence," rather than employ him in the state. and it is on the literary side of his character, and there alone, that we find no weakness and no failure. although the light of almost four centuries has been focused on "the prince," its problems are still debatable and interesting, because they are the eternal problems between the ruled and their rulers. such as they are, its ethics are those of machiavelli's contemporaries; yet they cannot be said to be out of date so long as the governments of europe rely on material rather than on moral forces. its historical incidents and personages become interesting by reason of the uses which machiavelli makes of them to illustrate his theories of government and conduct. leaving out of consideration those maxims of state which still furnish some european and eastern statesmen with principles of action, "the prince" is bestrewn with truths that can be proved at every turn. men are still the dupes of their simplicity and greed, as they were in the days of alexander vi. the cloak of religion still conceals the vices which machiavelli laid bare in the character of ferdinand of aragon. men will not look at things as they really are, but as they wish them to be--and are ruined. in politics there are no perfectly safe courses; prudence consists in choosing the least dangerous ones. then--to pass to a higher plane--machiavelli reiterates that, although crimes may win an empire, they do not win glory. necessary wars are just wars, and the arms of a nation are hallowed when it has no other resource but to fight. it is the cry of a far later day than machiavelli's that government should be elevated into a living moral force, capable of inspiring the people with a just recognition of the fundamental principles of society; to this "high argument" "the prince" contributes but little. machiavelli always refused to write either of men or of governments otherwise than as he found them, and he writes with such skill and insight that his work is of abiding value. but what invests "the prince" with more than a merely artistic or historical interest is the incontrovertible truth that it deals with the great principles which still guide nations and rulers in their relationship with each other and their neighbours. in translating "the prince" my aim has been to achieve at all costs an exact literal rendering of the original, rather than a fluent paraphrase adapted to the modern notions of style and expression. machiavelli was no facile phrasemonger; the conditions under which he wrote obliged him to weigh every word; his themes were lofty, his substance grave, his manner nobly plain and serious. "quis eo fuit unquam in partiundis rebus, in definiendis, in explanandis pressior?" in "the prince," it may be truly said, there is reason assignable, not only for every word, but for the position of every word. to an englishman of shakespeare's time the translation of such a treatise was in some ways a comparatively easy task, for in those times the genius of the english more nearly resembled that of the italian language; to the englishman of to-day it is not so simple. to take a single example: the word "intrattenere," employed by machiavelli to indicate the policy adopted by the roman senate towards the weaker states of greece, would by an elizabethan be correctly rendered "entertain," and every contemporary reader would understand what was meant by saying that "rome entertained the aetolians and the achaeans without augmenting their power." but to-day such a phrase would seem obsolete and ambiguous, if not unmeaning: we are compelled to say that "rome maintained friendly relations with the aetolians," etc., using four words to do the work of one. i have tried to preserve the pithy brevity of the italian so far as was consistent with an absolute fidelity to the sense. if the result be an occasional asperity i can only hope that the reader, in his eagerness to reach the author's meaning, may overlook the roughness of the road that leads him to it. the following is a list of the works of machiavelli: principal works. discorso sopra le cose di pisa, ; del modo di trattare i popoli della valdichiana ribellati, ; del modo tenuto dal duca valentino nell' ammazzare vitellozzo vitelli, oliverotto da fermo, etc., ; discorso sopra la provisione del danaro, ; decennale primo (poem in terza rima), ; ritratti delle cose dell' alemagna, - ; decennale secondo, ; ritratti delle cose di francia, ; discorsi sopra la prima deca di t. livio, vols., - ; il principe, ; andria, comedy translated from terence, (?); mandragola, prose comedy in five acts, with prologue in verse, ; della lingua (dialogue), ; clizia, comedy in prose, (?); belfagor arcidiavolo (novel), ; asino d'oro (poem in terza rima), ; dell' arte della guerra, - ; discorso sopra il riformare lo stato di firenze, ; sommario delle cose della citta di lucca, ; vita di castruccio castracani da lucca, ; istorie fiorentine, books, - ; frammenti storici, . other poems include sonetti, canzoni, ottave, and canti carnascialeschi. editions. aldo, venice, ; della tertina, ; cambiagi, florence, vols., - ; dei classici, milan, ; silvestri, vols., - ; passerini, fanfani, milanesi, vols. only published, - . minor works. ed. f. l. polidori, ; lettere familiari, ed. e. alvisi, , editions, one with excisions; credited writings, ed. g. canestrini, ; letters to f. vettori, see a. ridolfi, pensieri intorno allo scopo di n. machiavelli nel libro il principe, etc.; d. ferrara, the private correspondence of nicolo machiavelli, . dedication to the magnificent lorenzo di piero de' medici: those who strive to obtain the good graces of a prince are accustomed to come before him with such things as they hold most precious, or in which they see him take most delight; whence one often sees horses, arms, cloth of gold, precious stones, and similar ornaments presented to princes, worthy of their greatness. desiring therefore to present myself to your magnificence with some testimony of my devotion towards you, i have not found among my possessions anything which i hold more dear than, or value so much as, the knowledge of the actions of great men, acquired by long experience in contemporary affairs, and a continual study of antiquity; which, having reflected upon it with great and prolonged diligence, i now send, digested into a little volume, to your magnificence. and although i may consider this work unworthy of your countenance, nevertheless i trust much to your benignity that it may be acceptable, seeing that it is not possible for me to make a better gift than to offer you the opportunity of understanding in the shortest time all that i have learnt in so many years, and with so many troubles and dangers; which work i have not embellished with swelling or magnificent words, nor stuffed with rounded periods, nor with any extrinsic allurements or adornments whatever, with which so many are accustomed to embellish their works; for i have wished either that no honour should be given it, or else that the truth of the matter and the weightiness of the theme shall make it acceptable. nor do i hold with those who regard it as a presumption if a man of low and humble condition dare to discuss and settle the concerns of princes; because, just as those who draw landscapes place themselves below in the plain to contemplate the nature of the mountains and of lofty places, and in order to contemplate the plains place themselves upon high mountains, even so to understand the nature of the people it needs to be a prince, and to understand that of princes it needs to be of the people. take then, your magnificence, this little gift in the spirit in which i send it; wherein, if it be diligently read and considered by you, you will learn my extreme desire that you should attain that greatness which fortune and your other attributes promise. and if your magnificence from the summit of your greatness will sometimes turn your eyes to these lower regions, you will see how unmeritedly i suffer a great and continued malignity of fortune. the prince chapter i -- how many kinds of principalities there are, and by what means they are acquired 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. chapter ii -- concerning hereditary principalities 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 ' , nor those of pope julius in ' , 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. chapter iii -- concerning mixed principalities 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 to , and died in . 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 , died . (+) charles viii, king of france, born , died . 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 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 , died . 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. chapter iv -- why the kingdom of darius, conquered by alexander, did not rebel against the successors of alexander at his death 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. chapter v -- concerning the way to govern cities or principalities which lived under their own laws before they were annexed 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. chapter vi -- concerning new principalities which are acquired by one's own arms and ability 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 b.c., died b.c. chapter vii -- concerning new principalities which are acquired either by the arms of others or by good fortune 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 , died . 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 ( - ) 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, st december . 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, th august . (+) julius ii was giuliano della rovere, cardinal of san pietro ad vincula, born , died . 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. chapter viii -- concerning those who have obtained a principality by wickedness 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 b.c., died 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. chapter ix -- concerning a civil principality 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 b.c.; killed 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. chapter x -- concerning the way in which the strength of all principalities ought to be measured 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 xi -- concerning ecclesiastical principalities it only remains now to speak of ecclesiastical principalities, touching which all difficulties are prior to getting possession, because they are acquired either by capacity or good fortune, and they can be held without either; for they are sustained by the ancient ordinances of religion, which are so all-powerful, and of such a character that the principalities may be held no matter how their princes behave and live. these princes alone have states and do not defend them; and they have subjects and do not rule them; and the states, although unguarded, are not taken from them, and the subjects, although not ruled, do not care, and they have neither the desire nor the ability to alienate themselves. such principalities only are secure and happy. but being upheld by powers, to which the human mind cannot reach, i shall speak no more of them, because, being exalted and maintained by god, it would be the act of a presumptuous and rash man to discuss them. nevertheless, if any one should ask of me how comes it that the church has attained such greatness in temporal power, seeing that from alexander backwards the italian potentates (not only those who have been called potentates, but every baron and lord, though the smallest) have valued the temporal power very slightly--yet now a king of france trembles before it, and it has been able to drive him from italy, and to ruin the venetians--although this may be very manifest, it does not appear to me superfluous to recall it in some measure to memory. before charles, king of france, passed into italy,(*) this country was under the dominion of the pope, the venetians, the king of naples, the duke of milan, and the florentines. these potentates had two principal anxieties: the one, that no foreigner should enter italy under arms; the other, that none of themselves should seize more territory. those about whom there was the most anxiety were the pope and the venetians. to restrain the venetians the union of all the others was necessary, as it was for the defence of ferrara; and to keep down the pope they made use of the barons of rome, who, being divided into two factions, orsini and colonnesi, had always a pretext for disorder, and, standing with arms in their hands under the eyes of the pontiff, kept the pontificate weak and powerless. and although there might arise sometimes a courageous pope, such as sixtus, yet neither fortune nor wisdom could rid him of these annoyances. and the short life of a pope is also a cause of weakness; for in the ten years, which is the average life of a pope, he can with difficulty lower one of the factions; and if, so to speak, one people should almost destroy the colonnesi, another would arise hostile to the orsini, who would support their opponents, and yet would not have time to ruin the orsini. this was the reason why the temporal powers of the pope were little esteemed in italy. (*) charles viii invaded italy in . alexander the sixth arose afterwards, who of all the pontiffs that have ever been showed how a pope with both money and arms was able to prevail; and through the instrumentality of the duke valentino, and by reason of the entry of the french, he brought about all those things which i have discussed above in the actions of the duke. and although his intention was not to aggrandize the church, but the duke, nevertheless, what he did contributed to the greatness of the church, which, after his death and the ruin of the duke, became the heir to all his labours. pope julius came afterwards and found the church strong, possessing all the romagna, the barons of rome reduced to impotence, and, through the chastisements of alexander, the factions wiped out; he also found the way open to accumulate money in a manner such as had never been practised before alexander's time. such things julius not only followed, but improved upon, and he intended to gain bologna, to ruin the venetians, and to drive the french out of italy. all of these enterprises prospered with him, and so much the more to his credit, inasmuch as he did everything to strengthen the church and not any private person. he kept also the orsini and colonnesi factions within the bounds in which he found them; and although there was among them some mind to make disturbance, nevertheless he held two things firm: the one, the greatness of the church, with which he terrified them; and the other, not allowing them to have their own cardinals, who caused the disorders among them. for whenever these factions have their cardinals they do not remain quiet for long, because cardinals foster the factions in rome and out of it, and the barons are compelled to support them, and thus from the ambitions of prelates arise disorders and tumults among the barons. for these reasons his holiness pope leo(*) found the pontificate most powerful, and it is to be hoped that, if others made it great in arms, he will make it still greater and more venerated by his goodness and infinite other virtues. (*) pope leo x was the cardinal de' medici. chapter xii -- how many kinds of soldiery there are, and concerning mercenaries having discoursed particularly on the characteristics of such principalities as in the beginning i proposed to discuss, and having considered in some degree the causes of there being good or bad, and having shown the methods by which many have sought to acquire them and to hold them, it now remains for me to discuss generally the means of offence and defence which belong to each of them. we have seen above how necessary it is for a prince to have his foundations well laid, otherwise it follows of necessity he will go to ruin. the chief foundations of all states, new as well as old or composite, are good laws and good arms; and as there cannot be good laws where the state is not well armed, it follows that where they are well armed they have good laws. i shall leave the laws out of the discussion and shall speak of the arms. i say, therefore, that the arms with which a prince defends his state are either his own, or they are mercenaries, auxiliaries, or mixed. mercenaries and auxiliaries are useless and dangerous; and if one holds his state based on these arms, he will stand neither firm nor safe; for they are disunited, ambitious, and without discipline, unfaithful, valiant before friends, cowardly before enemies; they have neither the fear of god nor fidelity to men, and destruction is deferred only so long as the attack is; for in peace one is robbed by them, and in war by the enemy. the fact is, they have no other attraction or reason for keeping the field than a trifle of stipend, which is not sufficient to make them willing to die for you. they are ready enough to be your soldiers whilst you do not make war, but if war comes they take themselves off or run from the foe; which i should have little trouble to prove, for the ruin of italy has been caused by nothing else than by resting all her hopes for many years on mercenaries, and although they formerly made some display and appeared valiant amongst themselves, yet when the foreigners came they showed what they were. thus it was that charles, king of france, was allowed to seize italy with chalk in hand;(*) and he who told us that our sins were the cause of it told the truth, but they were not the sins he imagined, but those which i have related. and as they were the sins of princes, it is the princes who have also suffered the penalty. (*) "with chalk in hand," "col gesso." this is one of the _bons mots_ of alexander vi, and refers to the ease with which charles viii seized italy, implying that it was only necessary for him to send his quartermasters to chalk up the billets for his soldiers to conquer the country. cf. "the history of henry vii," by lord bacon: "king charles had conquered the realm of naples, and lost it again, in a kind of a felicity of a dream. he passed the whole length of italy without resistance: so that it was true what pope alexander was wont to say: that the frenchmen came into italy with chalk in their hands, to mark up their lodgings, rather than with swords to fight." i wish to demonstrate further the infelicity of these arms. the mercenary captains are either capable men or they are not; if they are, you cannot trust them, because they always aspire to their own greatness, either by oppressing you, who are their master, or others contrary to your intentions; but if the captain is not skilful, you are ruined in the usual way. and if it be urged that whoever is armed will act in the same way, whether mercenary or not, i reply that when arms have to be resorted to, either by a prince or a republic, then the prince ought to go in person and perform the duty of a captain; the republic has to send its citizens, and when one is sent who does not turn out satisfactorily, it ought to recall him, and when one is worthy, to hold him by the laws so that he does not leave the command. and experience has shown princes and republics, single-handed, making the greatest progress, and mercenaries doing nothing except damage; and it is more difficult to bring a republic, armed with its own arms, under the sway of one of its citizens than it is to bring one armed with foreign arms. rome and sparta stood for many ages armed and free. the switzers are completely armed and quite free. of ancient mercenaries, for example, there are the carthaginians, who were oppressed by their mercenary soldiers after the first war with the romans, although the carthaginians had their own citizens for captains. after the death of epaminondas, philip of macedon was made captain of their soldiers by the thebans, and after victory he took away their liberty. duke filippo being dead, the milanese enlisted francesco sforza against the venetians, and he, having overcome the enemy at caravaggio,(*) allied himself with them to crush the milanese, his masters. his father, sforza, having been engaged by queen johanna(+) of naples, left her unprotected, so that she was forced to throw herself into the arms of the king of aragon, in order to save her kingdom. and if the venetians and florentines formerly extended their dominions by these arms, and yet their captains did not make themselves princes, but have defended them, i reply that the florentines in this case have been favoured by chance, for of the able captains, of whom they might have stood in fear, some have not conquered, some have been opposed, and others have turned their ambitions elsewhere. one who did not conquer was giovanni acuto,(%) and since he did not conquer his fidelity cannot be proved; but every one will acknowledge that, had he conquered, the florentines would have stood at his discretion. sforza had the bracceschi always against him, so they watched each other. francesco turned his ambition to lombardy; braccio against the church and the kingdom of naples. but let us come to that which happened a short while ago. the florentines appointed as their captain pagolo vitelli, a most prudent man, who from a private position had risen to the greatest renown. if this man had taken pisa, nobody can deny that it would have been proper for the florentines to keep in with him, for if he became the soldier of their enemies they had no means of resisting, and if they held to him they must obey him. the venetians, if their achievements are considered, will be seen to have acted safely and gloriously so long as they sent to war their own men, when with armed gentlemen and plebians they did valiantly. this was before they turned to enterprises on land, but when they began to fight on land they forsook this virtue and followed the custom of italy. and in the beginning of their expansion on land, through not having much territory, and because of their great reputation, they had not much to fear from their captains; but when they expanded, as under carmignuola,(#) they had a taste of this mistake; for, having found him a most valiant man (they beat the duke of milan under his leadership), and, on the other hand, knowing how lukewarm he was in the war, they feared they would no longer conquer under him, and for this reason they were not willing, nor were they able, to let him go; and so, not to lose again that which they had acquired, they were compelled, in order to secure themselves, to murder him. they had afterwards for their captains bartolomeo da bergamo, roberto da san severino, the count of pitigliano,(&) and the like, under whom they had to dread loss and not gain, as happened afterwards at vaila,($) where in one battle they lost that which in eight hundred years they had acquired with so much trouble. because from such arms conquests come but slowly, long delayed and inconsiderable, but the losses sudden and portentous. (*) battle of caravaggio, th september . (+) johanna ii of naples, the widow of ladislao, king of naples. (%) giovanni acuto. an english knight whose name was sir john hawkwood. he fought in the english wars in france, and was knighted by edward iii; afterwards he collected a body of troops and went into italy. these became the famous "white company." he took part in many wars, and died in florence in . he was born about at sible hedingham, a village in essex. he married domnia, a daughter of bernabo visconti. (#) carmignuola. francesco bussone, born at carmagnola about , executed at venice, th may . (&) bartolomeo colleoni of bergamo; died . roberto of san severino; died fighting for venice against sigismund, duke of austria, in . "primo capitano in italia."-- machiavelli. count of pitigliano; nicolo orsini, born , died . ($) battle of vaila in . and as with these examples i have reached italy, which has been ruled for many years by mercenaries, i wish to discuss them more seriously, in order that, having seen their rise and progress, one may be better prepared to counteract them. you must understand that the empire has recently come to be repudiated in italy, that the pope has acquired more temporal power, and that italy has been divided up into more states, for the reason that many of the great cities took up arms against their nobles, who, formerly favoured by the emperor, were oppressing them, whilst the church was favouring them so as to gain authority in temporal power: in many others their citizens became princes. from this it came to pass that italy fell partly into the hands of the church and of republics, and, the church consisting of priests and the republic of citizens unaccustomed to arms, both commenced to enlist foreigners. the first who gave renown to this soldiery was alberigo da conio,(*) the romagnian. from the school of this man sprang, among others, braccio and sforza, who in their time were the arbiters of italy. after these came all the other captains who till now have directed the arms of italy; and the end of all their valour has been, that she has been overrun by charles, robbed by louis, ravaged by ferdinand, and insulted by the switzers. the principle that has guided them has been, first, to lower the credit of infantry so that they might increase their own. they did this because, subsisting on their pay and without territory, they were unable to support many soldiers, and a few infantry did not give them any authority; so they were led to employ cavalry, with a moderate force of which they were maintained and honoured; and affairs were brought to such a pass that, in an army of twenty thousand soldiers, there were not to be found two thousand foot soldiers. they had, besides this, used every art to lessen fatigue and danger to themselves and their soldiers, not killing in the fray, but taking prisoners and liberating without ransom. they did not attack towns at night, nor did the garrisons of the towns attack encampments at night; they did not surround the camp either with stockade or ditch, nor did they campaign in the winter. all these things were permitted by their military rules, and devised by them to avoid, as i have said, both fatigue and dangers; thus they have brought italy to slavery and contempt. (*) alberigo da conio. alberico da barbiano, count of cunio in romagna. he was the leader of the famous "company of st george," composed entirely of italian soldiers. he died in . chapter xiii -- concerning auxiliaries, mixed soldiery, and one's own auxiliaries, which are the other useless arm, are employed when a prince is called in with his forces to aid and defend, as was done by pope julius in the most recent times; for he, having, in the enterprise against ferrara, had poor proof of his mercenaries, turned to auxiliaries, and stipulated with ferdinand, king of spain,(*) for his assistance with men and arms. these arms may be useful and good in themselves, but for him who calls them in they are always disadvantageous; for losing, one is undone, and winning, one is their captive. (*) ferdinand v (f. ii of aragon and sicily, f. iii of naples), surnamed "the catholic," born , died . and although ancient histories may be full of examples, i do not wish to leave this recent one of pope julius the second, the peril of which cannot fail to be perceived; for he, wishing to get ferrara, threw himself entirely into the hands of the foreigner. but his good fortune brought about a third event, so that he did not reap the fruit of his rash choice; because, having his auxiliaries routed at ravenna, and the switzers having risen and driven out the conquerors (against all expectation, both his and others), it so came to pass that he did not become prisoner to his enemies, they having fled, nor to his auxiliaries, he having conquered by other arms than theirs. the florentines, being entirely without arms, sent ten thousand frenchmen to take pisa, whereby they ran more danger than at any other time of their troubles. the emperor of constantinople,(*) to oppose his neighbours, sent ten thousand turks into greece, who, on the war being finished, were not willing to quit; this was the beginning of the servitude of greece to the infidels. (*) joannes cantacuzenus, born , died . therefore, let him who has no desire to conquer make use of these arms, for they are much more hazardous than mercenaries, because with them the ruin is ready made; they are all united, all yield obedience to others; but with mercenaries, when they have conquered, more time and better opportunities are needed to injure you; they are not all of one community, they are found and paid by you, and a third party, which you have made their head, is not able all at once to assume enough authority to injure you. in conclusion, in mercenaries dastardy is most dangerous; in auxiliaries, valour. the wise prince, therefore, has always avoided these arms and turned to his own; and has been willing rather to lose with them than to conquer with the others, not deeming that a real victory which is gained with the arms of others. i shall never hesitate to cite cesare borgia and his actions. this duke entered the romagna with auxiliaries, taking there only french soldiers, and with them he captured imola and forli; but afterwards, such forces not appearing to him reliable, he turned to mercenaries, discerning less danger in them, and enlisted the orsini and vitelli; whom presently, on handling and finding them doubtful, unfaithful, and dangerous, he destroyed and turned to his own men. and the difference between one and the other of these forces can easily be seen when one considers the difference there was in the reputation of the duke, when he had the french, when he had the orsini and vitelli, and when he relied on his own soldiers, on whose fidelity he could always count and found it ever increasing; he was never esteemed more highly than when every one saw that he was complete master of his own forces. i was not intending to go beyond italian and recent examples, but i am unwilling to leave out hiero, the syracusan, he being one of those i have named above. this man, as i have said, made head of the army by the syracusans, soon found out that a mercenary soldiery, constituted like our italian condottieri, was of no use; and it appearing to him that he could neither keep them not let them go, he had them all cut to pieces, and afterwards made war with his own forces and not with aliens. i wish also to recall to memory an instance from the old testament applicable to this subject. david offered himself to saul to fight with goliath, the philistine champion, and, to give him courage, saul armed him with his own weapons; which david rejected as soon as he had them on his back, saying he could make no use of them, and that he wished to meet the enemy with his sling and his knife. in conclusion, the arms of others either fall from your back, or they weigh you down, or they bind you fast. charles the seventh,(*) the father of king louis the eleventh,(+) having by good fortune and valour liberated france from the english, recognized the necessity of being armed with forces of his own, and he established in his kingdom ordinances concerning men-at-arms and infantry. afterwards his son, king louis, abolished the infantry and began to enlist the switzers, which mistake, followed by others, is, as is now seen, a source of peril to that kingdom; because, having raised the reputation of the switzers, he has entirely diminished the value of his own arms, for he has destroyed the infantry altogether; and his men-at-arms he has subordinated to others, for, being as they are so accustomed to fight along with switzers, it does not appear that they can now conquer without them. hence it arises that the french cannot stand against the switzers, and without the switzers they do not come off well against others. the armies of the french have thus become mixed, partly mercenary and partly national, both of which arms together are much better than mercenaries alone or auxiliaries alone, but much inferior to one's own forces. and this example proves it, for the kingdom of france would be unconquerable if the ordinance of charles had been enlarged or maintained. (*) charles vii of france, surnamed "the victorious," born , died . (+) louis xi, son of the above, born , died . but the scanty wisdom of man, on entering into an affair which looks well at first, cannot discern the poison that is hidden in it, as i have said above of hectic fevers. therefore, if he who rules a principality cannot recognize evils until they are upon him, he is not truly wise; and this insight is given to few. and if the first disaster to the roman empire(*) should be examined, it will be found to have commenced only with the enlisting of the goths; because from that time the vigour of the roman empire began to decline, and all that valour which had raised it passed away to others. (*) "many speakers to the house the other night in the debate on the reduction of armaments seemed to show a most lamentable ignorance of the conditions under which the british empire maintains its existence. when mr balfour replied to the allegations that the roman empire sank under the weight of its military obligations, he said that this was 'wholly unhistorical.' he might well have added that the roman power was at its zenith when every citizen acknowledged his liability to fight for the state, but that it began to decline as soon as this obligation was no longer recognized."--pall mall gazette, th may . i conclude, therefore, that no principality is secure without having its own forces; on the contrary, it is entirely dependent on good fortune, not having the valour which in adversity would defend it. and it has always been the opinion and judgment of wise men that nothing can be so uncertain or unstable as fame or power not founded on its own strength. and one's own forces are those which are composed either of subjects, citizens, or dependents; all others are mercenaries or auxiliaries. and the way to make ready one's own forces will be easily found if the rules suggested by me shall be reflected upon, and if one will consider how philip, the father of alexander the great, and many republics and princes have armed and organized themselves, to which rules i entirely commit myself. chapter xiv -- that which concerns a prince on the subject of the art of war a prince ought to have no other aim or thought, nor select anything else for his study, than war and its rules and discipline; for this is the sole art that belongs to him who rules, and it is of such force that it not only upholds those who are born princes, but it often enables men to rise from a private station to that rank. and, on the contrary, it is seen that when princes have thought more of ease than of arms they have lost their states. and the first cause of your losing it is to neglect this art; and what enables you to acquire a state is to be master of the art. francesco sforza, through being martial, from a private person became duke of milan; and the sons, through avoiding the hardships and troubles of arms, from dukes became private persons. for among other evils which being unarmed brings you, it causes you to be despised, and this is one of those ignominies against which a prince ought to guard himself, as is shown later on. because there is nothing proportionate between the armed and the unarmed; and it is not reasonable that he who is armed should yield obedience willingly to him who is unarmed, or that the unarmed man should be secure among armed servants. because, there being in the one disdain and in the other suspicion, it is not possible for them to work well together. and therefore a prince who does not understand the art of war, over and above the other misfortunes already mentioned, cannot be respected by his soldiers, nor can he rely on them. he ought never, therefore, to have out of his thoughts this subject of war, and in peace he should addict himself more to its exercise than in war; this he can do in two ways, the one by action, the other by study. as regards action, he ought above all things to keep his men well organized and drilled, to follow incessantly the chase, by which he accustoms his body to hardships, and learns something of the nature of localities, and gets to find out how the mountains rise, how the valleys open out, how the plains lie, and to understand the nature of rivers and marshes, and in all this to take the greatest care. which knowledge is useful in two ways. firstly, he learns to know his country, and is better able to undertake its defence; afterwards, by means of the knowledge and observation of that locality, he understands with ease any other which it may be necessary for him to study hereafter; because the hills, valleys, and plains, and rivers and marshes that are, for instance, in tuscany, have a certain resemblance to those of other countries, so that with a knowledge of the aspect of one country one can easily arrive at a knowledge of others. and the prince that lacks this skill lacks the essential which it is desirable that a captain should possess, for it teaches him to surprise his enemy, to select quarters, to lead armies, to array the battle, to besiege towns to advantage. philopoemen,(*) prince of the achaeans, among other praises which writers have bestowed on him, is commended because in time of peace he never had anything in his mind but the rules of war; and when he was in the country with friends, he often stopped and reasoned with them: "if the enemy should be upon that hill, and we should find ourselves here with our army, with whom would be the advantage? how should one best advance to meet him, keeping the ranks? if we should wish to retreat, how ought we to pursue?" and he would set forth to them, as he went, all the chances that could befall an army; he would listen to their opinion and state his, confirming it with reasons, so that by these continual discussions there could never arise, in time of war, any unexpected circumstances that he could not deal with. (*) philopoemen, "the last of the greeks," born b.c., died b.c. but to exercise the intellect the prince should read histories, and study there the actions of illustrious men, to see how they have borne themselves in war, to examine the causes of their victories and defeat, so as to avoid the latter and imitate the former; and above all do as an illustrious man did, who took as an exemplar one who had been praised and famous before him, and whose achievements and deeds he always kept in his mind, as it is said alexander the great imitated achilles, caesar alexander, scipio cyrus. and whoever reads the life of cyrus, written by xenophon, will recognize afterwards in the life of scipio how that imitation was his glory, and how in chastity, affability, humanity, and liberality scipio conformed to those things which have been written of cyrus by xenophon. a wise prince ought to observe some such rules, and never in peaceful times stand idle, but increase his resources with industry in such a way that they may be available to him in adversity, so that if fortune chances it may find him prepared to resist her blows. chapter xv -- concerning things for which men, and especially princes, are praised or blamed it remains now to see what ought to be the rules of conduct for a prince towards subject and friends. and as i know that many have written on this point, i expect i shall be considered presumptuous in mentioning it again, especially as in discussing it i shall depart from the methods of other people. but, it being my intention to write a thing which shall be useful to him who apprehends it, it appears to me more appropriate to follow up the real truth of the matter than the imagination of it; for many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never been known or seen, because how one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation; for a man who wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with what destroys him among so much that is evil. hence it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity. therefore, putting on one side imaginary things concerning a prince, and discussing those which are real, i say that all men when they are spoken of, and chiefly princes for being more highly placed, are remarkable for some of those qualities which bring them either blame or praise; and thus it is that one is reputed liberal, another miserly, using a tuscan term (because an avaricious person in our language is still he who desires to possess by robbery, whilst we call one miserly who deprives himself too much of the use of his own); one is reputed generous, one rapacious; one cruel, one compassionate; one faithless, another faithful; one effeminate and cowardly, another bold and brave; one affable, another haughty; one lascivious, another chaste; one sincere, another cunning; one hard, another easy; one grave, another frivolous; one religious, another unbelieving, and the like. and i know that every one will confess that it would be most praiseworthy in a prince to exhibit all the above qualities that are considered good; but because they can neither be entirely possessed nor observed, for human conditions do not permit it, it is necessary for him to be sufficiently prudent that he may know how to avoid the reproach of those vices which would lose him his state; and also to keep himself, if it be possible, from those which would not lose him it; but this not being possible, he may with less hesitation abandon himself to them. and again, he need not make himself uneasy at incurring a reproach for those vices without which the state can only be saved with difficulty, for if everything is considered carefully, it will be found that something which looks like virtue, if followed, would be his ruin; whilst something else, which looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity. chapter xvi -- concerning liberality and meanness commencing then with the first of the above-named characteristics, i say that it would be well to be reputed liberal. nevertheless, liberality exercised in a way that does not bring you the reputation for it, injures you; for if one exercises it honestly and as it should be exercised, it may not become known, and you will not avoid the reproach of its opposite. therefore, any one wishing to maintain among men the name of liberal is obliged to avoid no attribute of magnificence; so that a prince thus inclined will consume in such acts all his property, and will be compelled in the end, if he wish to maintain the name of liberal, to unduly weigh down his people, and tax them, and do everything he can to get money. this will soon make him odious to his subjects, and becoming poor he will be little valued by any one; thus, with his liberality, having offended many and rewarded few, he is affected by the very first trouble and imperilled by whatever may be the first danger; recognizing this himself, and wishing to draw back from it, he runs at once into the reproach of being miserly. therefore, a prince, not being able to exercise this virtue of liberality in such a way that it is recognized, except to his cost, if he is wise he ought not to fear the reputation of being mean, for in time he will come to be more considered than if liberal, seeing that with his economy his revenues are enough, that he can defend himself against all attacks, and is able to engage in enterprises without burdening his people; thus it comes to pass that he exercises liberality towards all from whom he does not take, who are numberless, and meanness towards those to whom he does not give, who are few. we have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed. pope julius the second was assisted in reaching the papacy by a reputation for liberality, yet he did not strive afterwards to keep it up, when he made war on the king of france; and he made many wars without imposing any extraordinary tax on his subjects, for he supplied his additional expenses out of his long thriftiness. the present king of spain would not have undertaken or conquered in so many enterprises if he had been reputed liberal. a prince, therefore, provided that he has not to rob his subjects, that he can defend himself, that he does not become poor and abject, that he is not forced to become rapacious, ought to hold of little account a reputation for being mean, for it is one of those vices which will enable him to govern. and if any one should say: caesar obtained empire by liberality, and many others have reached the highest positions by having been liberal, and by being considered so, i answer: either you are a prince in fact, or in a way to become one. in the first case this liberality is dangerous, in the second it is very necessary to be considered liberal; and caesar was one of those who wished to become pre-eminent in rome; but if he had survived after becoming so, and had not moderated his expenses, he would have destroyed his government. and if any one should reply: many have been princes, and have done great things with armies, who have been considered very liberal, i reply: either a prince spends that which is his own or his subjects' or else that of others. in the first case he ought to be sparing, in the second he ought not to neglect any opportunity for liberality. and to the prince who goes forth with his army, supporting it by pillage, sack, and extortion, handling that which belongs to others, this liberality is necessary, otherwise he would not be followed by soldiers. and of that which is neither yours nor your subjects' you can be a ready giver, as were cyrus, caesar, and alexander; because it does not take away your reputation if you squander that of others, but adds to it; it is only squandering your own that injures you. and there is nothing wastes so rapidly as liberality, for even whilst you exercise it you lose the power to do so, and so become either poor or despised, or else, in avoiding poverty, rapacious and hated. and a prince should guard himself, above all things, against being despised and hated; and liberality leads you to both. therefore it is wiser to have a reputation for meanness which brings reproach without hatred, than to be compelled through seeking a reputation for liberality to incur a name for rapacity which begets reproach with hatred. chapter xvii -- concerning cruelty and clemency, and whether it is better to be loved than feared coming now to the other qualities mentioned above, i say that every prince ought to desire to be considered clement and not cruel. nevertheless he ought to take care not to misuse this clemency. cesare borgia was considered cruel; notwithstanding, his cruelty reconciled the romagna, unified it, and restored it to peace and loyalty. and if this be rightly considered, he will be seen to have been much more merciful than the florentine people, who, to avoid a reputation for cruelty, permitted pistoia to be destroyed.(*) therefore a prince, so long as he keeps his subjects united and loyal, ought not to mind the reproach of cruelty; because with a few examples he will be more merciful than those who, through too much mercy, allow disorders to arise, from which follow murders or robberies; for these are wont to injure the whole people, whilst those executions which originate with a prince offend the individual only. (*) during the rioting between the cancellieri and panciatichi factions in and . and of all princes, it is impossible for the new prince to avoid the imputation of cruelty, owing to new states being full of dangers. hence virgil, through the mouth of dido, excuses the inhumanity of her reign owing to its being new, saying: "res dura, et regni novitas me talia cogunt moliri, et late fines custode tueri."(*) nevertheless he ought to be slow to believe and to act, nor should he himself show fear, but proceed in a temperate manner with prudence and humanity, so that too much confidence may not make him incautious and too much distrust render him intolerable. (*) . . . against my will, my fate a throne unsettled, and an infant state, bid me defend my realms with all my pow'rs, and guard with these severities my shores. christopher pitt. upon this a question arises: whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? it may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved, when, of the two, either must be dispensed with. because this is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life, and children, as is said above, when the need is far distant; but when it approaches they turn against you. and that prince who, relying entirely on their promises, has neglected other precautions, is ruined; because friendships that are obtained by payments, and not by greatness or nobility of mind, may indeed be earned, but they are not secured, and in time of need cannot be relied upon; and men have less scruple in offending one who is beloved than one who is feared, for love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails. nevertheless a prince ought to inspire fear in such a way that, if he does not win love, he avoids hatred; because he can endure very well being feared whilst he is not hated, which will always be as long as he abstains from the property of his citizens and subjects and from their women. but when it is necessary for him to proceed against the life of someone, he must do it on proper justification and for manifest cause, but above all things he must keep his hands off the property of others, because men more quickly forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony. besides, pretexts for taking away the property are never wanting; for he who has once begun to live by robbery will always find pretexts for seizing what belongs to others; but reasons for taking life, on the contrary, are more difficult to find and sooner lapse. but when a prince is with his army, and has under control a multitude of soldiers, then it is quite necessary for him to disregard the reputation of cruelty, for without it he would never hold his army united or disposed to its duties. among the wonderful deeds of hannibal this one is enumerated: that having led an enormous army, composed of many various races of men, to fight in foreign lands, no dissensions arose either among them or against the prince, whether in his bad or in his good fortune. this arose from nothing else than his inhuman cruelty, which, with his boundless valour, made him revered and terrible in the sight of his soldiers, but without that cruelty, his other virtues were not sufficient to produce this effect. and short-sighted writers admire his deeds from one point of view and from another condemn the principal cause of them. that it is true his other virtues would not have been sufficient for him may be proved by the case of scipio, that most excellent man, not only of his own times but within the memory of man, against whom, nevertheless, his army rebelled in spain; this arose from nothing but his too great forbearance, which gave his soldiers more license than is consistent with military discipline. for this he was upbraided in the senate by fabius maximus, and called the corrupter of the roman soldiery. the locrians were laid waste by a legate of scipio, yet they were not avenged by him, nor was the insolence of the legate punished, owing entirely to his easy nature. insomuch that someone in the senate, wishing to excuse him, said there were many men who knew much better how not to err than to correct the errors of others. this disposition, if he had been continued in the command, would have destroyed in time the fame and glory of scipio; but, he being under the control of the senate, this injurious characteristic not only concealed itself, but contributed to his glory. returning to the question of being feared or loved, i come to the conclusion that, men loving according to their own will and fearing according to that of the prince, a wise prince should establish himself on that which is in his own control and not in that of others; he must endeavour only to avoid hatred, as is noted. chapter xviii(*) -- concerning the way in which princes should keep faith (*) "the present chapter has given greater offence than any other portion of machiavelli's writings." burd, "il principe," p. . every one admits how praiseworthy it is in a prince to keep faith, and to live with integrity and not with craft. nevertheless our experience has been that those princes who have done great things have held good faith of little account, and have known how to circumvent the intellect of men by craft, and in the end have overcome those who have relied on their word. you must know there are two ways of contesting,(*) the one by the law, the other by force; the first method is proper to men, the second to beasts; but because the first is frequently not sufficient, it is necessary to have recourse to the second. therefore it is necessary for a prince to understand how to avail himself of the beast and the man. this has been figuratively taught to princes by ancient writers, who describe how achilles and many other princes of old were given to the centaur chiron to nurse, who brought them up in his discipline; which means solely that, as they had for a teacher one who was half beast and half man, so it is necessary for a prince to know how to make use of both natures, and that one without the other is not durable. a prince, therefore, being compelled knowingly to adopt the beast, ought to choose the fox and the lion; because the lion cannot defend himself against snares and the fox cannot defend himself against wolves. therefore, it is necessary to be a fox to discover the snares and a lion to terrify the wolves. those who rely simply on the lion do not understand what they are about. therefore a wise lord cannot, nor ought he to, keep faith when such observance may be turned against him, and when the reasons that caused him to pledge it exist no longer. if men were entirely good this precept would not hold, but because they are bad, and will not keep faith with you, you too are not bound to observe it with them. nor will there ever be wanting to a prince legitimate reasons to excuse this non-observance. of this endless modern examples could be given, showing how many treaties and engagements have been made void and of no effect through the faithlessness of princes; and he who has known best how to employ the fox has succeeded best. (*) "contesting," i.e. "striving for mastery." mr burd points out that this passage is imitated directly from cicero's "de officiis": "nam cum sint duo genera decertandi, unum per disceptationem, alterum per vim; cumque illud proprium sit hominis, hoc beluarum; confugiendum est ad posterius, si uti non licet superiore." but it is necessary to know well how to disguise this characteristic, and to be a great pretender and dissembler; and men are so simple, and so subject to present necessities, that he who seeks to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived. one recent example i cannot pass over in silence. alexander the sixth did nothing else but deceive men, nor ever thought of doing otherwise, and he always found victims; for there never was a man who had greater power in asserting, or who with greater oaths would affirm a thing, yet would observe it less; nevertheless his deceits always succeeded according to his wishes,(*) because he well understood this side of mankind. (*) "nondimanco sempre gli succederono gli inganni (ad votum)." the words "ad votum" are omitted in the testina addition, . alexander never did what he said, cesare never said what he did. italian proverb. therefore it is unnecessary for a prince to have all the good qualities i have enumerated, but it is very necessary to appear to have them. and i shall dare to say this also, that to have them and always to observe them is injurious, and that to appear to have them is useful; to appear merciful, faithful, humane, religious, upright, and to be so, but with a mind so framed that should you require not to be so, you may be able and know how to change to the opposite. and you have to understand this, that a prince, especially a new one, cannot observe all those things for which men are esteemed, being often forced, in order to maintain the state, to act contrary to fidelity,(*) friendship, humanity, and religion. therefore it is necessary for him to have a mind ready to turn itself accordingly as the winds and variations of fortune force it, yet, as i have said above, not to diverge from the good if he can avoid doing so, but, if compelled, then to know how to set about it. (*) "contrary to fidelity" or "faith," "contro alla fede," and "tutto fede," "altogether faithful," in the next paragraph. it is noteworthy that these two phrases, "contro alla fede" and "tutto fede," were omitted in the testina edition, which was published with the sanction of the papal authorities. it may be that the meaning attached to the word "fede" was "the faith," i.e. the catholic creed, and not as rendered here "fidelity" and "faithful." observe that the word "religione" was suffered to stand in the text of the testina, being used to signify indifferently every shade of belief, as witness "the religion," a phrase inevitably employed to designate the huguenot heresy. south in his sermon ix, p. , ed. , comments on this passage as follows: "that great patron and coryphaeus of this tribe, nicolo machiavel, laid down this for a master rule in his political scheme: 'that the show of religion was helpful to the politician, but the reality of it hurtful and pernicious.'" for this reason a prince ought to take care that he never lets anything slip from his lips that is not replete with the above-named five qualities, that he may appear to him who sees and hears him altogether merciful, faithful, humane, upright, and religious. there is nothing more necessary to appear to have than this last quality, inasmuch as men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, because it belongs to everybody to see you, to few to come in touch with you. every one sees what you appear to be, few really know what you are, and those few dare not oppose themselves to the opinion of the many, who have the majesty of the state to defend them; and in the actions of all men, and especially of princes, which it is not prudent to challenge, one judges by the result. for that reason, let a prince have the credit of conquering and holding his state, the means will always be considered honest, and he will be praised by everybody; because the vulgar are always taken by what a thing seems to be and by what comes of it; and in the world there are only the vulgar, for the few find a place there only when the many have no ground to rest on. one prince(*) of the present time, whom it is not well to name, never preaches anything else but peace and good faith, and to both he is most hostile, and either, if he had kept it, would have deprived him of reputation and kingdom many a time. (*) ferdinand of aragon. "when machiavelli was writing 'the prince' it would have been clearly impossible to mention ferdinand's name here without giving offence." burd's "il principe," p. . chapter xix -- that one should avoid being despised and hated now, concerning the characteristics of which mention is made above, i have spoken of the more important ones, the others i wish to discuss briefly under this generality, that the prince must consider, as has been in part said before, how to avoid those things which will make him hated or contemptible; and as often as he shall have succeeded he will have fulfilled his part, and he need not fear any danger in other reproaches. it makes him hated above all things, as i have said, to be rapacious, and to be a violator of the property and women of his subjects, from both of which he must abstain. and when neither their property nor their honor is touched, the majority of men live content, and he has only to contend with the ambition of a few, whom he can curb with ease in many ways. it makes him contemptible to be considered fickle, frivolous, effeminate, mean-spirited, irresolute, from all of which a prince should guard himself as from a rock; and he should endeavour to show in his actions greatness, courage, gravity, and fortitude; and in his private dealings with his subjects let him show that his judgments are irrevocable, and maintain himself in such reputation that no one can hope either to deceive him or to get round him. that prince is highly esteemed who conveys this impression of himself, and he who is highly esteemed is not easily conspired against; for, provided it is well known that he is an excellent man and revered by his people, he can only be attacked with difficulty. for this reason a prince ought to have two fears, one from within, on account of his subjects, the other from without, on account of external powers. from the latter he is defended by being well armed and having good allies, and if he is well armed he will have good friends, and affairs will always remain quiet within when they are quiet without, unless they should have been already disturbed by conspiracy; and even should affairs outside be disturbed, if he has carried out his preparations and has lived as i have said, as long as he does not despair, he will resist every attack, as i said nabis the spartan did. but concerning his subjects, when affairs outside are disturbed he has only to fear that they will conspire secretly, from which a prince can easily secure himself by avoiding being hated and despised, and by keeping the people satisfied with him, which it is most necessary for him to accomplish, as i said above at length. and one of the most efficacious remedies that a prince can have against conspiracies is not to be hated and despised by the people, for he who conspires against a prince always expects to please them by his removal; but when the conspirator can only look forward to offending them, he will not have the courage to take such a course, for the difficulties that confront a conspirator are infinite. and as experience shows, many have been the conspiracies, but few have been successful; because he who conspires cannot act alone, nor can he take a companion except from those whom he believes to be malcontents, and as soon as you have opened your mind to a malcontent you have given him the material with which to content himself, for by denouncing you he can look for every advantage; so that, seeing the gain from this course to be assured, and seeing the other to be doubtful and full of dangers, he must be a very rare friend, or a thoroughly obstinate enemy of the prince, to keep faith with you. and, to reduce the matter into a small compass, i say that, on the side of the conspirator, there is nothing but fear, jealousy, prospect of punishment to terrify him; but on the side of the prince there is the majesty of the principality, the laws, the protection of friends and the state to defend him; so that, adding to all these things the popular goodwill, it is impossible that any one should be so rash as to conspire. for whereas in general the conspirator has to fear before the execution of his plot, in this case he has also to fear the sequel to the crime; because on account of it he has the people for an enemy, and thus cannot hope for any escape. endless examples could be given on this subject, but i will be content with one, brought to pass within the memory of our fathers. messer annibale bentivogli, who was prince in bologna (grandfather of the present annibale), having been murdered by the canneschi, who had conspired against him, not one of his family survived but messer giovanni,(*) who was in childhood: immediately after his assassination the people rose and murdered all the canneschi. this sprung from the popular goodwill which the house of bentivogli enjoyed in those days in bologna; which was so great that, although none remained there after the death of annibale who was able to rule the state, the bolognese, having information that there was one of the bentivogli family in florence, who up to that time had been considered the son of a blacksmith, sent to florence for him and gave him the government of their city, and it was ruled by him until messer giovanni came in due course to the government. (*) giovanni bentivogli, born in bologna , died at milan . he ruled bologna from to . machiavelli's strong condemnation of conspiracies may get its edge from his own very recent experience (february ), when he had been arrested and tortured for his alleged complicity in the boscoli conspiracy. for this reason i consider that a prince ought to reckon conspiracies of little account when his people hold him in esteem; but when it is hostile to him, and bears hatred towards him, he ought to fear everything and everybody. and well-ordered states and wise princes have taken every care not to drive the nobles to desperation, and to keep the people satisfied and contented, for this is one of the most important objects a prince can have. among the best ordered and governed kingdoms of our times is france, and in it are found many good institutions on which depend the liberty and security of the king; of these the first is the parliament and its authority, because he who founded the kingdom, knowing the ambition of the nobility and their boldness, considered that a bit to their mouths would be necessary to hold them in; and, on the other side, knowing the hatred of the people, founded in fear, against the nobles, he wished to protect them, yet he was not anxious for this to be the particular care of the king; therefore, to take away the reproach which he would be liable to from the nobles for favouring the people, and from the people for favouring the nobles, he set up an arbiter, who should be one who could beat down the great and favour the lesser without reproach to the king. neither could you have a better or a more prudent arrangement, or a greater source of security to the king and kingdom. from this one can draw another important conclusion, that princes ought to leave affairs of reproach to the management of others, and keep those of grace in their own hands. and further, i consider that a prince ought to cherish the nobles, but not so as to make himself hated by the people. it may appear, perhaps, to some who have examined the lives and deaths of the roman emperors that many of them would be an example contrary to my opinion, seeing that some of them lived nobly and showed great qualities of soul, nevertheless they have lost their empire or have been killed by subjects who have conspired against them. wishing, therefore, to answer these objections, i will recall the characters of some of the emperors, and will show that the causes of their ruin were not different to those alleged by me; at the same time i will only submit for consideration those things that are noteworthy to him who studies the affairs of those times. it seems to me sufficient to take all those emperors who succeeded to the empire from marcus the philosopher down to maximinus; they were marcus and his son commodus, pertinax, julian, severus and his son antoninus caracalla, macrinus, heliogabalus, alexander, and maximinus. there is first to note that, whereas in other principalities the ambition of the nobles and the insolence of the people only have to be contended with, the roman emperors had a third difficulty in having to put up with the cruelty and avarice of their soldiers, a matter so beset with difficulties that it was the ruin of many; for it was a hard thing to give satisfaction both to soldiers and people; because the people loved peace, and for this reason they loved the unaspiring prince, whilst the soldiers loved the warlike prince who was bold, cruel, and rapacious, which qualities they were quite willing he should exercise upon the people, so that they could get double pay and give vent to their own greed and cruelty. hence it arose that those emperors were always overthrown who, either by birth or training, had no great authority, and most of them, especially those who came new to the principality, recognizing the difficulty of these two opposing humours, were inclined to give satisfaction to the soldiers, caring little about injuring the people. which course was necessary, because, as princes cannot help being hated by someone, they ought, in the first place, to avoid being hated by every one, and when they cannot compass this, they ought to endeavour with the utmost diligence to avoid the hatred of the most powerful. therefore, those emperors who through inexperience had need of special favour adhered more readily to the soldiers than to the people; a course which turned out advantageous to them or not, accordingly as the prince knew how to maintain authority over them. from these causes it arose that marcus, pertinax, and alexander, being all men of modest life, lovers of justice, enemies to cruelty, humane, and benignant, came to a sad end except marcus; he alone lived and died honoured, because he had succeeded to the throne by hereditary title, and owed nothing either to the soldiers or the people; and afterwards, being possessed of many virtues which made him respected, he always kept both orders in their places whilst he lived, and was neither hated nor despised. but pertinax was created emperor against the wishes of the soldiers, who, being accustomed to live licentiously under commodus, could not endure the honest life to which pertinax wished to reduce them; thus, having given cause for hatred, to which hatred there was added contempt for his old age, he was overthrown at the very beginning of his administration. and here it should be noted that hatred is acquired as much by good works as by bad ones, therefore, as i said before, a prince wishing to keep his state is very often forced to do evil; for when that body is corrupt whom you think you have need of to maintain yourself--it may be either the people or the soldiers or the nobles--you have to submit to its humours and to gratify them, and then good works will do you harm. but let us come to alexander, who was a man of such great goodness, that among the other praises which are accorded him is this, that in the fourteen years he held the empire no one was ever put to death by him unjudged; nevertheless, being considered effeminate and a man who allowed himself to be governed by his mother, he became despised, the army conspired against him, and murdered him. turning now to the opposite characters of commodus, severus, antoninus caracalla, and maximinus, you will find them all cruel and rapacious-men who, to satisfy their soldiers, did not hesitate to commit every kind of iniquity against the people; and all, except severus, came to a bad end; but in severus there was so much valour that, keeping the soldiers friendly, although the people were oppressed by him, he reigned successfully; for his valour made him so much admired in the sight of the soldiers and people that the latter were kept in a way astonished and awed and the former respectful and satisfied. and because the actions of this man, as a new prince, were great, i wish to show briefly that he knew well how to counterfeit the fox and the lion, which natures, as i said above, it is necessary for a prince to imitate. knowing the sloth of the emperor julian, he persuaded the army in sclavonia, of which he was captain, that it would be right to go to rome and avenge the death of pertinax, who had been killed by the praetorian soldiers; and under this pretext, without appearing to aspire to the throne, he moved the army on rome, and reached italy before it was known that he had started. on his arrival at rome, the senate, through fear, elected him emperor and killed julian. after this there remained for severus, who wished to make himself master of the whole empire, two difficulties; one in asia, where niger, head of the asiatic army, had caused himself to be proclaimed emperor; the other in the west where albinus was, who also aspired to the throne. and as he considered it dangerous to declare himself hostile to both, he decided to attack niger and to deceive albinus. to the latter he wrote that, being elected emperor by the senate, he was willing to share that dignity with him and sent him the title of caesar; and, moreover, that the senate had made albinus his colleague; which things were accepted by albinus as true. but after severus had conquered and killed niger, and settled oriental affairs, he returned to rome and complained to the senate that albinus, little recognizing the benefits that he had received from him, had by treachery sought to murder him, and for this ingratitude he was compelled to punish him. afterwards he sought him out in france, and took from him his government and life. he who will, therefore, carefully examine the actions of this man will find him a most valiant lion and a most cunning fox; he will find him feared and respected by every one, and not hated by the army; and it need not be wondered at that he, a new man, was able to hold the empire so well, because his supreme renown always protected him from that hatred which the people might have conceived against him for his violence. but his son antoninus was a most eminent man, and had very excellent qualities, which made him admirable in the sight of the people and acceptable to the soldiers, for he was a warlike man, most enduring of fatigue, a despiser of all delicate food and other luxuries, which caused him to be beloved by the armies. nevertheless, his ferocity and cruelties were so great and so unheard of that, after endless single murders, he killed a large number of the people of rome and all those of alexandria. he became hated by the whole world, and also feared by those he had around him, to such an extent that he was murdered in the midst of his army by a centurion. and here it must be noted that such-like deaths, which are deliberately inflicted with a resolved and desperate courage, cannot be avoided by princes, because any one who does not fear to die can inflict them; but a prince may fear them the less because they are very rare; he has only to be careful not to do any grave injury to those whom he employs or has around him in the service of the state. antoninus had not taken this care, but had contumeliously killed a brother of that centurion, whom also he daily threatened, yet retained in his bodyguard; which, as it turned out, was a rash thing to do, and proved the emperor's ruin. but let us come to commodus, to whom it should have been very easy to hold the empire, for, being the son of marcus, he had inherited it, and he had only to follow in the footsteps of his father to please his people and soldiers; but, being by nature cruel and brutal, he gave himself up to amusing the soldiers and corrupting them, so that he might indulge his rapacity upon the people; on the other hand, not maintaining his dignity, often descending to the theatre to compete with gladiators, and doing other vile things, little worthy of the imperial majesty, he fell into contempt with the soldiers, and being hated by one party and despised by the other, he was conspired against and was killed. it remains to discuss the character of maximinus. he was a very warlike man, and the armies, being disgusted with the effeminacy of alexander, of whom i have already spoken, killed him and elected maximinus to the throne. this he did not possess for long, for two things made him hated and despised; the one, his having kept sheep in thrace, which brought him into contempt (it being well known to all, and considered a great indignity by every one), and the other, his having at the accession to his dominions deferred going to rome and taking possession of the imperial seat; he had also gained a reputation for the utmost ferocity by having, through his prefects in rome and elsewhere in the empire, practised many cruelties, so that the whole world was moved to anger at the meanness of his birth and to fear at his barbarity. first africa rebelled, then the senate with all the people of rome, and all italy conspired against him, to which may be added his own army; this latter, besieging aquileia and meeting with difficulties in taking it, were disgusted with his cruelties, and fearing him less when they found so many against him, murdered him. i do not wish to discuss heliogabalus, macrinus, or julian, who, being thoroughly contemptible, were quickly wiped out; but i will bring this discourse to a conclusion by saying that princes in our times have this difficulty of giving inordinate satisfaction to their soldiers in a far less degree, because, notwithstanding one has to give them some indulgence, that is soon done; none of these princes have armies that are veterans in the governance and administration of provinces, as were the armies of the roman empire; and whereas it was then more necessary to give satisfaction to the soldiers than to the people, it is now more necessary to all princes, except the turk and the soldan, to satisfy the people rather the soldiers, because the people are the more powerful. from the above i have excepted the turk, who always keeps round him twelve thousand infantry and fifteen thousand cavalry on which depend the security and strength of the kingdom, and it is necessary that, putting aside every consideration for the people, he should keep them his friends. the kingdom of the soldan is similar; being entirely in the hands of soldiers, it follows again that, without regard to the people, he must keep them his friends. but you must note that the state of the soldan is unlike all other principalities, for the reason that it is like the christian pontificate, which cannot be called either an hereditary or a newly formed principality; because the sons of the old prince are not the heirs, but he who is elected to that position by those who have authority, and the sons remain only noblemen. and this being an ancient custom, it cannot be called a new principality, because there are none of those difficulties in it that are met with in new ones; for although the prince is new, the constitution of the state is old, and it is framed so as to receive him as if he were its hereditary lord. but returning to the subject of our discourse, i say that whoever will consider it will acknowledge that either hatred or contempt has been fatal to the above-named emperors, and it will be recognized also how it happened that, a number of them acting in one way and a number in another, only one in each way came to a happy end and the rest to unhappy ones. because it would have been useless and dangerous for pertinax and alexander, being new princes, to imitate marcus, who was heir to the principality; and likewise it would have been utterly destructive to caracalla, commodus, and maximinus to have imitated severus, they not having sufficient valour to enable them to tread in his footsteps. therefore a prince, new to the principality, cannot imitate the actions of marcus, nor, again, is it necessary to follow those of severus, but he ought to take from severus those parts which are necessary to found his state, and from marcus those which are proper and glorious to keep a state that may already be stable and firm. chapter xx -- are fortresses, and many other things to which princes often resort, advantageous or hurtful? . some princes, so as to hold securely the state, have disarmed their subjects; others have kept their subject towns distracted by factions; others have fostered enmities against themselves; others have laid themselves out to gain over those whom they distrusted in the beginning of their governments; some have built fortresses; some have overthrown and destroyed them. and although one cannot give a final judgment on all of these things unless one possesses the particulars of those states in which a decision has to be made, nevertheless i will speak as comprehensively as the matter of itself will admit. . there never was a new prince who has disarmed his subjects; rather when he has found them disarmed he has always armed them, because, by arming them, those arms become yours, those men who were distrusted become faithful, and those who were faithful are kept so, and your subjects become your adherents. and whereas all subjects cannot be armed, yet when those whom you do arm are benefited, the others can be handled more freely, and this difference in their treatment, which they quite understand, makes the former your dependents, and the latter, considering it to be necessary that those who have the most danger and service should have the most reward, excuse you. but when you disarm them, you at once offend them by showing that you distrust them, either for cowardice or for want of loyalty, and either of these opinions breeds hatred against you. and because you cannot remain unarmed, it follows that you turn to mercenaries, which are of the character already shown; even if they should be good they would not be sufficient to defend you against powerful enemies and distrusted subjects. therefore, as i have said, a new prince in a new principality has always distributed arms. histories are full of examples. but when a prince acquires a new state, which he adds as a province to his old one, then it is necessary to disarm the men of that state, except those who have been his adherents in acquiring it; and these again, with time and opportunity, should be rendered soft and effeminate; and matters should be managed in such a way that all the armed men in the state shall be your own soldiers who in your old state were living near you. . our forefathers, and those who were reckoned wise, were accustomed to say that it was necessary to hold pistoia by factions and pisa by fortresses; and with this idea they fostered quarrels in some of their tributary towns so as to keep possession of them the more easily. this may have been well enough in those times when italy was in a way balanced, but i do not believe that it can be accepted as a precept for to-day, because i do not believe that factions can ever be of use; rather it is certain that when the enemy comes upon you in divided cities you are quickly lost, because the weakest party will always assist the outside forces and the other will not be able to resist. the venetians, moved, as i believe, by the above reasons, fostered the guelph and ghibelline factions in their tributary cities; and although they never allowed them to come to bloodshed, yet they nursed these disputes amongst them, so that the citizens, distracted by their differences, should not unite against them. which, as we saw, did not afterwards turn out as expected, because, after the rout at vaila, one party at once took courage and seized the state. such methods argue, therefore, weakness in the prince, because these factions will never be permitted in a vigorous principality; such methods for enabling one the more easily to manage subjects are only useful in times of peace, but if war comes this policy proves fallacious. . without doubt princes become great when they overcome the difficulties and obstacles by which they are confronted, and therefore fortune, especially when she desires to make a new prince great, who has a greater necessity to earn renown than an hereditary one, causes enemies to arise and form designs against him, in order that he may have the opportunity of overcoming them, and by them to mount higher, as by a ladder which his enemies have raised. for this reason many consider that a wise prince, when he has the opportunity, ought with craft to foster some animosity against himself, so that, having crushed it, his renown may rise higher. . princes, especially new ones, have found more fidelity and assistance in those men who in the beginning of their rule were distrusted than among those who in the beginning were trusted. pandolfo petrucci, prince of siena, ruled his state more by those who had been distrusted than by others. but on this question one cannot speak generally, for it varies so much with the individual; i will only say this, that those men who at the commencement of a princedom have been hostile, if they are of a description to need assistance to support themselves, can always be gained over with the greatest ease, and they will be tightly held to serve the prince with fidelity, inasmuch as they know it to be very necessary for them to cancel by deeds the bad impression which he had formed of them; and thus the prince always extracts more profit from them than from those who, serving him in too much security, may neglect his affairs. and since the matter demands it, i must not fail to warn a prince, who by means of secret favours has acquired a new state, that he must well consider the reasons which induced those to favour him who did so; and if it be not a natural affection towards him, but only discontent with their government, then he will only keep them friendly with great trouble and difficulty, for it will be impossible to satisfy them. and weighing well the reasons for this in those examples which can be taken from ancient and modern affairs, we shall find that it is easier for the prince to make friends of those men who were contented under the former government, and are therefore his enemies, than of those who, being discontented with it, were favourable to him and encouraged him to seize it. . it has been a custom with princes, in order to hold their states more securely, to build fortresses that may serve as a bridle and bit to those who might design to work against them, and as a place of refuge from a first attack. i praise this system because it has been made use of formerly. notwithstanding that, messer nicolo vitelli in our times has been seen to demolish two fortresses in citta di castello so that he might keep that state; guido ubaldo, duke of urbino, on returning to his dominion, whence he had been driven by cesare borgia, razed to the foundations all the fortresses in that province, and considered that without them it would be more difficult to lose it; the bentivogli returning to bologna came to a similar decision. fortresses, therefore, are useful or not according to circumstances; if they do you good in one way they injure you in another. and this question can be reasoned thus: the prince who has more to fear from the people than from foreigners ought to build fortresses, but he who has more to fear from foreigners than from the people ought to leave them alone. the castle of milan, built by francesco sforza, has made, and will make, more trouble for the house of sforza than any other disorder in the state. for this reason the best possible fortress is--not to be hated by the people, because, although you may hold the fortresses, yet they will not save you if the people hate you, for there will never be wanting foreigners to assist a people who have taken arms against you. it has not been seen in our times that such fortresses have been of use to any prince, unless to the countess of forli,(*) when the count girolamo, her consort, was killed; for by that means she was able to withstand the popular attack and wait for assistance from milan, and thus recover her state; and the posture of affairs was such at that time that the foreigners could not assist the people. but fortresses were of little value to her afterwards when cesare borgia attacked her, and when the people, her enemy, were allied with foreigners. therefore, it would have been safer for her, both then and before, not to have been hated by the people than to have had the fortresses. all these things considered then, i shall praise him who builds fortresses as well as him who does not, and i shall blame whoever, trusting in them, cares little about being hated by the people. (*) catherine sforza, a daughter of galeazzo sforza and lucrezia landriani, born , died . it was to the countess of forli that machiavelli was sent as envoy on . a letter from fortunati to the countess announces the appointment: "i have been with the signori," wrote fortunati, "to learn whom they would send and when. they tell me that nicolo machiavelli, a learned young florentine noble, secretary to my lords of the ten, is to leave with me at once." cf. "catherine sforza," by count pasolini, translated by p. sylvester, . chapter xxi -- how a prince should conduct himself so as to gain renown nothing makes a prince so much esteemed as great enterprises and setting a fine example. we have in our time ferdinand of aragon, the present king of spain. he can almost be called a new prince, because he has risen, by fame and glory, from being an insignificant king to be the foremost king in christendom; and if you will consider his deeds you will find them all great and some of them extraordinary. in the beginning of his reign he attacked granada, and this enterprise was the foundation of his dominions. he did this quietly at first and without any fear of hindrance, for he held the minds of the barons of castile occupied in thinking of the war and not anticipating any innovations; thus they did not perceive that by these means he was acquiring power and authority over them. he was able with the money of the church and of the people to sustain his armies, and by that long war to lay the foundation for the military skill which has since distinguished him. further, always using religion as a plea, so as to undertake greater schemes, he devoted himself with pious cruelty to driving out and clearing his kingdom of the moors; nor could there be a more admirable example, nor one more rare. under this same cloak he assailed africa, he came down on italy, he has finally attacked france; and thus his achievements and designs have always been great, and have kept the minds of his people in suspense and admiration and occupied with the issue of them. and his actions have arisen in such a way, one out of the other, that men have never been given time to work steadily against him. again, it much assists a prince to set unusual examples in internal affairs, similar to those which are related of messer bernabo da milano, who, when he had the opportunity, by any one in civil life doing some extraordinary thing, either good or bad, would take some method of rewarding or punishing him, which would be much spoken about. and a prince ought, above all things, always endeavour in every action to gain for himself the reputation of being a great and remarkable man. a prince is also respected when he is either a true friend or a downright enemy, that is to say, when, without any reservation, he declares himself in favour of one party against the other; which course will always be more advantageous than standing neutral; because if two of your powerful neighbours come to blows, they are of such a character that, if one of them conquers, you have either to fear him or not. in either case it will always be more advantageous for you to declare yourself and to make war strenuously; because, in the first case, if you do not declare yourself, you will invariably fall a prey to the conqueror, to the pleasure and satisfaction of him who has been conquered, and you will have no reasons to offer, nor anything to protect or to shelter you. because he who conquers does not want doubtful friends who will not aid him in the time of trial; and he who loses will not harbour you because you did not willingly, sword in hand, court his fate. antiochus went into greece, being sent for by the aetolians to drive out the romans. he sent envoys to the achaeans, who were friends of the romans, exhorting them to remain neutral; and on the other hand the romans urged them to take up arms. this question came to be discussed in the council of the achaeans, where the legate of antiochus urged them to stand neutral. to this the roman legate answered: "as for that which has been said, that it is better and more advantageous for your state not to interfere in our war, nothing can be more erroneous; because by not interfering you will be left, without favour or consideration, the guerdon of the conqueror." thus it will always happen that he who is not your friend will demand your neutrality, whilst he who is your friend will entreat you to declare yourself with arms. and irresolute princes, to avoid present dangers, generally follow the neutral path, and are generally ruined. but when a prince declares himself gallantly in favour of one side, if the party with whom he allies himself conquers, although the victor may be powerful and may have him at his mercy, yet he is indebted to him, and there is established a bond of amity; and men are never so shameless as to become a monument of ingratitude by oppressing you. victories after all are never so complete that the victor must not show some regard, especially to justice. but if he with whom you ally yourself loses, you may be sheltered by him, and whilst he is able he may aid you, and you become companions on a fortune that may rise again. in the second case, when those who fight are of such a character that you have no anxiety as to who may conquer, so much the more is it greater prudence to be allied, because you assist at the destruction of one by the aid of another who, if he had been wise, would have saved him; and conquering, as it is impossible that he should not do with your assistance, he remains at your discretion. and here it is to be noted that a prince ought to take care never to make an alliance with one more powerful than himself for the purposes of attacking others, unless necessity compels him, as is said above; because if he conquers you are at his discretion, and princes ought to avoid as much as possible being at the discretion of any one. the venetians joined with france against the duke of milan, and this alliance, which caused their ruin, could have been avoided. but when it cannot be avoided, as happened to the florentines when the pope and spain sent armies to attack lombardy, then in such a case, for the above reasons, the prince ought to favour one of the parties. never let any government imagine that it can choose perfectly safe courses; rather let it expect to have to take very doubtful ones, because it is found in ordinary affairs that one never seeks to avoid one trouble without running into another; but prudence consists in knowing how to distinguish the character of troubles, and for choice to take the lesser evil. a prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art. at the same time he should encourage his citizens to practise their callings peaceably, both in commerce and agriculture, and in every other following, so that the one should not be deterred from improving his possessions for fear lest they be taken away from him or another from opening up trade for fear of taxes; but the prince ought to offer rewards to whoever wishes to do these things and designs in any way to honour his city or state. further, he ought to entertain the people with festivals and spectacles at convenient seasons of the year; and as every city is divided into guilds or into societies,(*) he ought to hold such bodies in esteem, and associate with them sometimes, and show himself an example of courtesy and liberality; nevertheless, always maintaining the majesty of his rank, for this he must never consent to abate in anything. (*) "guilds or societies," "in arti o in tribu." "arti" were craft or trade guilds, cf. florio: "arte . . . a whole company of any trade in any city or corporation town." the guilds of florence are most admirably described by mr edgcumbe staley in his work on the subject (methuen, ). institutions of a somewhat similar character, called "artel," exist in russia to-day, cf. sir mackenzie wallace's "russia," ed. : "the sons . . . were always during the working season members of an artel. in some of the larger towns there are artels of a much more complex kind-- permanent associations, possessing large capital, and pecuniarily responsible for the acts of the individual members." the word "artel," despite its apparent similarity, has, mr aylmer maude assures me, no connection with "ars" or "arte." its root is that of the verb "rotisya," to bind oneself by an oath; and it is generally admitted to be only another form of "rota," which now signifies a "regimental company." in both words the underlying idea is that of a body of men united by an oath. "tribu" were possibly gentile groups, united by common descent, and included individuals connected by marriage. perhaps our words "sects" or "clans" would be most appropriate. chapter xxii -- concerning the secretaries of princes the choice of servants is of no little importance to a prince, and they are good or not according to the discrimination of the prince. and the first opinion which one forms of a prince, and of his understanding, is by observing the men he has around him; and when they are capable and faithful he may always be considered wise, because he has known how to recognize the capable and to keep them faithful. but when they are otherwise one cannot form a good opinion of him, for the prime error which he made was in choosing them. there were none who knew messer antonio da venafro as the servant of pandolfo petrucci, prince of siena, who would not consider pandolfo to be a very clever man in having venafro for his servant. because there are three classes of intellects: one which comprehends by itself; another which appreciates what others comprehended; and a third which neither comprehends by itself nor by the showing of others; the first is the most excellent, the second is good, the third is useless. therefore, it follows necessarily that, if pandolfo was not in the first rank, he was in the second, for whenever one has judgment to know good and bad when it is said and done, although he himself may not have the initiative, yet he can recognize the good and the bad in his servant, and the one he can praise and the other correct; thus the servant cannot hope to deceive him, and is kept honest. but to enable a prince to form an opinion of his servant there is one test which never fails; when you see the servant thinking more of his own interests than of yours, and seeking inwardly his own profit in everything, such a man will never make a good servant, nor will you ever be able to trust him; because he who has the state of another in his hands ought never to think of himself, but always of his prince, and never pay any attention to matters in which the prince is not concerned. on the other hand, to keep his servant honest the prince ought to study him, honouring him, enriching him, doing him kindnesses, sharing with him the honours and cares; and at the same time let him see that he cannot stand alone, so that many honours may not make him desire more, many riches make him wish for more, and that many cares may make him dread chances. when, therefore, servants, and princes towards servants, are thus disposed, they can trust each other, but when it is otherwise, the end will always be disastrous for either one or the other. chapter xxiii -- how flatterers should be avoided i do not wish to leave out an important branch of this subject, for it is a danger from which princes are with difficulty preserved, unless they are very careful and discriminating. it is that of flatterers, of whom courts are full, because men are so self-complacent in their own affairs, and in a way so deceived in them, that they are preserved with difficulty from this pest, and if they wish to defend themselves they run the danger of falling into contempt. because there is no other way of guarding oneself from flatterers except letting men understand that to tell you the truth does not offend you; but when every one may tell you the truth, respect for you abates. therefore a wise prince ought to hold a third course by choosing the wise men in his state, and giving to them only the liberty of speaking the truth to him, and then only of those things of which he inquires, and of none others; but he ought to question them upon everything, and listen to their opinions, and afterwards form his own conclusions. with these councillors, separately and collectively, he ought to carry himself in such a way that each of them should know that, the more freely he shall speak, the more he shall be preferred; outside of these, he should listen to no one, pursue the thing resolved on, and be steadfast in his resolutions. he who does otherwise is either overthrown by flatterers, or is so often changed by varying opinions that he falls into contempt. i wish on this subject to adduce a modern example. fra luca, the man of affairs to maximilian,(*) the present emperor, speaking of his majesty, said: he consulted with no one, yet never got his own way in anything. this arose because of his following a practice the opposite to the above; for the emperor is a secretive man--he does not communicate his designs to any one, nor does he receive opinions on them. but as in carrying them into effect they become revealed and known, they are at once obstructed by those men whom he has around him, and he, being pliant, is diverted from them. hence it follows that those things he does one day he undoes the next, and no one ever understands what he wishes or intends to do, and no one can rely on his resolutions. (*) maximilian i, born in , died , emperor of the holy roman empire. he married, first, mary, daughter of charles the bold; after her death, bianca sforza; and thus became involved in italian politics. a prince, therefore, ought always to take counsel, but only when he wishes and not when others wish; he ought rather to discourage every one from offering advice unless he asks it; but, however, he ought to be a constant inquirer, and afterwards a patient listener concerning the things of which he inquired; also, on learning that any one, on any consideration, has not told him the truth, he should let his anger be felt. and if there are some who think that a prince who conveys an impression of his wisdom is not so through his own ability, but through the good advisers that he has around him, beyond doubt they are deceived, because this is an axiom which never fails: that a prince who is not wise himself will never take good advice, unless by chance he has yielded his affairs entirely to one person who happens to be a very prudent man. in this case indeed he may be well governed, but it would not be for long, because such a governor would in a short time take away his state from him. but if a prince who is not inexperienced should take counsel from more than one he will never get united counsels, nor will he know how to unite them. each of the counsellors will think of his own interests, and the prince will not know how to control them or to see through them. and they are not to be found otherwise, because men will always prove untrue to you unless they are kept honest by constraint. therefore it must be inferred that good counsels, whencesoever they come, are born of the wisdom of the prince, and not the wisdom of the prince from good counsels. chapter xxiv -- why the princes of italy have lost their states the previous suggestions, carefully observed, will enable a new prince to appear well established, and render him at once more secure and fixed in the state than if he had been long seated there. for the actions of a new prince are more narrowly observed than those of an hereditary one, and when they are seen to be able they gain more men and bind far tighter than ancient blood; because men are attracted more by the present than by the past, and when they find the present good they enjoy it and seek no further; they will also make the utmost defence of a prince if he fails them not in other things. thus it will be a double glory for him to have established a new principality, and adorned and strengthened it with good laws, good arms, good allies, and with a good example; so will it be a double disgrace to him who, born a prince, shall lose his state by want of wisdom. and if those seigniors are considered who have lost their states in italy in our times, such as the king of naples, the duke of milan, and others, there will be found in them, firstly, one common defect in regard to arms from the causes which have been discussed at length; in the next place, some one of them will be seen, either to have had the people hostile, or if he has had the people friendly, he has not known how to secure the nobles. in the absence of these defects states that have power enough to keep an army in the field cannot be lost. philip of macedon, not the father of alexander the great, but he who was conquered by titus quintius, had not much territory compared to the greatness of the romans and of greece who attacked him, yet being a warlike man who knew how to attract the people and secure the nobles, he sustained the war against his enemies for many years, and if in the end he lost the dominion of some cities, nevertheless he retained the kingdom. therefore, do not let our princes accuse fortune for the loss of their principalities after so many years' possession, but rather their own sloth, because in quiet times they never thought there could be a change (it is a common defect in man not to make any provision in the calm against the tempest), and when afterwards the bad times came they thought of flight and not of defending themselves, and they hoped that the people, disgusted with the insolence of the conquerors, would recall them. this course, when others fail, may be good, but it is very bad to have neglected all other expedients for that, since you would never wish to fall because you trusted to be able to find someone later on to restore you. this again either does not happen, or, if it does, it will not be for your security, because that deliverance is of no avail which does not depend upon yourself; those only are reliable, certain, and durable that depend on yourself and your valour. chapter xxv -- what fortune can effect in human affairs and how to withstand her it is not unknown to me how many men have had, and still have, the opinion that the affairs of the world are in such wise governed by fortune and by god that men with their wisdom cannot direct them and that no one can even help them; and because of this they would have us believe that it is not necessary to labour much in affairs, but to let chance govern them. this opinion has been more credited in our times because of the great changes in affairs which have been seen, and may still be seen, every day, beyond all human conjecture. sometimes pondering over this, i am in some degree inclined to their opinion. nevertheless, not to extinguish our free will, i hold it to be true that fortune is the arbiter of one-half of our actions,(*) but that she still leaves us to direct the other half, or perhaps a little less. (*) frederick the great was accustomed to say: "the older one gets the more convinced one becomes that his majesty king chance does three-quarters of the business of this miserable universe." sorel's "eastern question." i compare her to one of those raging rivers, which when in flood overflows the plains, sweeping away trees and buildings, bearing away the soil from place to place; everything flies before it, all yield to its violence, without being able in any way to withstand it; and yet, though its nature be such, it does not follow therefore that men, when the weather becomes fair, shall not make provision, both with defences and barriers, in such a manner that, rising again, the waters may pass away by canal, and their force be neither so unrestrained nor so dangerous. so it happens with fortune, who shows her power where valour has not prepared to resist her, and thither she turns her forces where she knows that barriers and defences have not been raised to constrain her. and if you will consider italy, which is the seat of these changes, and which has given to them their impulse, you will see it to be an open country without barriers and without any defence. for if it had been defended by proper valour, as are germany, spain, and france, either this invasion would not have made the great changes it has made or it would not have come at all. and this i consider enough to say concerning resistance to fortune in general. but confining myself more to the particular, i say that a prince may be seen happy to-day and ruined to-morrow without having shown any change of disposition or character. this, i believe, arises firstly from causes that have already been discussed at length, namely, that the prince who relies entirely on fortune is lost when it changes. i believe also that he will be successful who directs his actions according to the spirit of the times, and that he whose actions do not accord with the times will not be successful. because men are seen, in affairs that lead to the end which every man has before him, namely, glory and riches, to get there by various methods; one with caution, another with haste; one by force, another by skill; one by patience, another by its opposite; and each one succeeds in reaching the goal by a different method. one can also see of two cautious men the one attain his end, the other fail; and similarly, two men by different observances are equally successful, the one being cautious, the other impetuous; all this arises from nothing else than whether or not they conform in their methods to the spirit of the times. this follows from what i have said, that two men working differently bring about the same effect, and of two working similarly, one attains his object and the other does not. changes in estate also issue from this, for if, to one who governs himself with caution and patience, times and affairs converge in such a way that his administration is successful, his fortune is made; but if times and affairs change, he is ruined if he does not change his course of action. but a man is not often found sufficiently circumspect to know how to accommodate himself to the change, both because he cannot deviate from what nature inclines him to do, and also because, having always prospered by acting in one way, he cannot be persuaded that it is well to leave it; and, therefore, the cautious man, when it is time to turn adventurous, does not know how to do it, hence he is ruined; but had he changed his conduct with the times fortune would not have changed. pope julius the second went to work impetuously in all his affairs, and found the times and circumstances conform so well to that line of action that he always met with success. consider his first enterprise against bologna, messer giovanni bentivogli being still alive. the venetians were not agreeable to it, nor was the king of spain, and he had the enterprise still under discussion with the king of france; nevertheless he personally entered upon the expedition with his accustomed boldness and energy, a move which made spain and the venetians stand irresolute and passive, the latter from fear, the former from desire to recover the kingdom of naples; on the other hand, he drew after him the king of france, because that king, having observed the movement, and desiring to make the pope his friend so as to humble the venetians, found it impossible to refuse him. therefore julius with his impetuous action accomplished what no other pontiff with simple human wisdom could have done; for if he had waited in rome until he could get away, with his plans arranged and everything fixed, as any other pontiff would have done, he would never have succeeded. because the king of france would have made a thousand excuses, and the others would have raised a thousand fears. i will leave his other actions alone, as they were all alike, and they all succeeded, for the shortness of his life did not let him experience the contrary; but if circumstances had arisen which required him to go cautiously, his ruin would have followed, because he would never have deviated from those ways to which nature inclined him. i conclude, therefore that, fortune being changeful and mankind steadfast in their ways, so long as the two are in agreement men are successful, but unsuccessful when they fall out. for my part i consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. she is, therefore, always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity command her. chapter xxvi -- an exhortation to liberate italy from the barbarians having carefully considered the subject of the above discourses, and wondering within myself whether the present times were propitious to a new prince, and whether there were elements that would give an opportunity to a wise and virtuous one to introduce a new order of things which would do honour to him and good to the people of this country, it appears to me that so many things concur to favour a new prince that i never knew a time more fit than the present. and if, as i said, it was necessary that the people of israel should be captive so as to make manifest the ability of moses; that the persians should be oppressed by the medes so as to discover the greatness of the soul of cyrus; and that the athenians should be dispersed to illustrate the capabilities of theseus: then at the present time, in order to discover the virtue of an italian spirit, it was necessary that italy should be reduced to the extremity that she is now in, that she should be more enslaved than the hebrews, more oppressed than the persians, more scattered than the athenians; without head, without order, beaten, despoiled, torn, overrun; and to have endured every kind of desolation. although lately some spark may have been shown by one, which made us think he was ordained by god for our redemption, nevertheless it was afterwards seen, in the height of his career, that fortune rejected him; so that italy, left as without life, waits for him who shall yet heal her wounds and put an end to the ravaging and plundering of lombardy, to the swindling and taxing of the kingdom and of tuscany, and cleanse those sores that for long have festered. it is seen how she entreats god to send someone who shall deliver her from these wrongs and barbarous insolencies. it is seen also that she is ready and willing to follow a banner if only someone will raise it. nor is there to be seen at present one in whom she can place more hope than in your illustrious house,(*) with its valour and fortune, favoured by god and by the church of which it is now the chief, and which could be made the head of this redemption. this will not be difficult if you will recall to yourself the actions and lives of the men i have named. and although they were great and wonderful men, yet they were men, and each one of them had no more opportunity than the present offers, for their enterprises were neither more just nor easier than this, nor was god more their friend than he is yours. (*) giuliano de medici. he had just been created a cardinal by leo x. in giuliano was elected pope, and took the title of clement vii. with us there is great justice, because that war is just which is necessary, and arms are hallowed when there is no other hope but in them. here there is the greatest willingness, and where the willingness is great the difficulties cannot be great if you will only follow those men to whom i have directed your attention. further than this, how extraordinarily the ways of god have been manifested beyond example: the sea is divided, a cloud has led the way, the rock has poured forth water, it has rained manna, everything has contributed to your greatness; you ought to do the rest. god is not willing to do everything, and thus take away our free will and that share of glory which belongs to us. and it is not to be wondered at if none of the above-named italians have been able to accomplish all that is expected from your illustrious house; and if in so many revolutions in italy, and in so many campaigns, it has always appeared as if military virtue were exhausted, this has happened because the old order of things was not good, and none of us have known how to find a new one. and nothing honours a man more than to establish new laws and new ordinances when he himself was newly risen. such things when they are well founded and dignified will make him revered and admired, and in italy there are not wanting opportunities to bring such into use in every form. here there is great valour in the limbs whilst it fails in the head. look attentively at the duels and the hand-to-hand combats, how superior the italians are in strength, dexterity, and subtlety. but when it comes to armies they do not bear comparison, and this springs entirely from the insufficiency of the leaders, since those who are capable are not obedient, and each one seems to himself to know, there having never been any one so distinguished above the rest, either by valour or fortune, that others would yield to him. hence it is that for so long a time, and during so much fighting in the past twenty years, whenever there has been an army wholly italian, it has always given a poor account of itself; the first witness to this is il taro, afterwards allesandria, capua, genoa, vaila, bologna, mestri.(*) (*) the battles of il taro, ; alessandria, ; capua, ; genoa, ; vaila, ; bologna, ; mestri, . if, therefore, your illustrious house wishes to follow these remarkable men who have redeemed their country, it is necessary before all things, as a true foundation for every enterprise, to be provided with your own forces, because there can be no more faithful, truer, or better soldiers. and although singly they are good, altogether they will be much better when they find themselves commanded by their prince, honoured by him, and maintained at his expense. therefore it is necessary to be prepared with such arms, so that you can be defended against foreigners by italian valour. and although swiss and spanish infantry may be considered very formidable, nevertheless there is a defect in both, by reason of which a third order would not only be able to oppose them, but might be relied upon to overthrow them. for the spaniards cannot resist cavalry, and the switzers are afraid of infantry whenever they encounter them in close combat. owing to this, as has been and may again be seen, the spaniards are unable to resist french cavalry, and the switzers are overthrown by spanish infantry. and although a complete proof of this latter cannot be shown, nevertheless there was some evidence of it at the battle of ravenna, when the spanish infantry were confronted by german battalions, who follow the same tactics as the swiss; when the spaniards, by agility of body and with the aid of their shields, got in under the pikes of the germans and stood out of danger, able to attack, while the germans stood helpless, and, if the cavalry had not dashed up, all would have been over with them. it is possible, therefore, knowing the defects of both these infantries, to invent a new one, which will resist cavalry and not be afraid of infantry; this need not create a new order of arms, but a variation upon the old. and these are the kind of improvements which confer reputation and power upon a new prince. this opportunity, therefore, ought not to be allowed to pass for letting italy at last see her liberator appear. nor can one express the love with which he would be received in all those provinces which have suffered so much from these foreign scourings, with what thirst for revenge, with what stubborn faith, with what devotion, with what tears. what door would be closed to him? who would refuse obedience to him? what envy would hinder him? what italian would refuse him homage? to all of us this barbarous dominion stinks. let, therefore, your illustrious house take up this charge with that courage and hope with which all just enterprises are undertaken, so that under its standard our native country may be ennobled, and under its auspices may be verified that saying of petrarch: virtu contro al furore prendera l'arme, e fia il combatter corto: che l'antico valore negli italici cuor non e ancor morto. virtue against fury shall advance the fight, and it i' th' combat soon shall put to flight: for the old roman valour is not dead, nor in th' italians' brests extinguished. edward dacre, . description of the methods adopted by the duke valentino when murdering vitellozzo vitelli, oliverotto da fermo, the signor pagolo, and the duke di gravina orsini by nicolo machiavelli the duke valentino had returned from lombardy, where he had been to clear himself with the king of france from the calumnies which had been raised against him by the florentines concerning the rebellion of arezzo and other towns in the val di chiana, and had arrived at imola, whence he intended with his army to enter upon the campaign against giovanni bentivogli, the tyrant of bologna: for he intended to bring that city under his domination, and to make it the head of his romagnian duchy. these matters coming to the knowledge of the vitelli and orsini and their following, it appeared to them that the duke would become too powerful, and it was feared that, having seized bologna, he would seek to destroy them in order that he might become supreme in italy. upon this a meeting was called at magione in the district of perugia, to which came the cardinal, pagolo, and the duke di gravina orsini, vitellozzo vitelli, oliverotto da fermo, gianpagolo baglioni, the tyrant of perugia, and messer antonio da venafro, sent by pandolfo petrucci, the prince of siena. here were discussed the power and courage of the duke and the necessity of curbing his ambitions, which might otherwise bring danger to the rest of being ruined. and they decided not to abandon the bentivogli, but to strive to win over the florentines; and they sent their men to one place and another, promising to one party assistance and to another encouragement to unite with them against the common enemy. this meeting was at once reported throughout all italy, and those who were discontented under the duke, among whom were the people of urbino, took hope of effecting a revolution. thus it arose that, men's minds being thus unsettled, it was decided by certain men of urbino to seize the fortress of san leo, which was held for the duke, and which they captured by the following means. the castellan was fortifying the rock and causing timber to be taken there; so the conspirators watched, and when certain beams which were being carried to the rock were upon the bridge, so that it was prevented from being drawn up by those inside, they took the opportunity of leaping upon the bridge and thence into the fortress. upon this capture being effected, the whole state rebelled and recalled the old duke, being encouraged in this, not so much by the capture of the fort, as by the diet at magione, from whom they expected to get assistance. those who heard of the rebellion at urbino thought they would not lose the opportunity, and at once assembled their men so as to take any town, should any remain in the hands of the duke in that state; and they sent again to florence to beg that republic to join with them in destroying the common firebrand, showing that the risk was lessened and that they ought not to wait for another opportunity. but the florentines, from hatred, for sundry reasons, of the vitelli and orsini, not only would not ally themselves, but sent nicolo machiavelli, their secretary, to offer shelter and assistance to the duke against his enemies. the duke was found full of fear at imola, because, against everybody's expectation, his soldiers had at once gone over to the enemy and he found himself disarmed and war at his door. but recovering courage from the offers of the florentines, he decided to temporize before fighting with the few soldiers that remained to him, and to negotiate for a reconciliation, and also to get assistance. this latter he obtained in two ways, by sending to the king of france for men and by enlisting men-at-arms and others whom he turned into cavalry of a sort: to all he gave money. notwithstanding this, his enemies drew near to him, and approached fossombrone, where they encountered some men of the duke and, with the aid of the orsini and vitelli, routed them. when this happened, the duke resolved at once to see if he could not close the trouble with offers of reconciliation, and being a most perfect dissembler he did not fail in any practices to make the insurgents understand that he wished every man who had acquired anything to keep it, as it was enough for him to have the title of prince, whilst others might have the principality. and the duke succeeded so well in this that they sent signor pagolo to him to negotiate for a reconciliation, and they brought their army to a standstill. but the duke did not stop his preparations, and took every care to provide himself with cavalry and infantry, and that such preparations might not be apparent to the others, he sent his troops in separate parties to every part of the romagna. in the meanwhile there came also to him five hundred french lancers, and although he found himself sufficiently strong to take vengeance on his enemies in open war, he considered that it would be safer and more advantageous to outwit them, and for this reason he did not stop the work of reconciliation. and that this might be effected the duke concluded a peace with them in which he confirmed their former covenants; he gave them four thousand ducats at once; he promised not to injure the bentivogli; and he formed an alliance with giovanni; and moreover he would not force them to come personally into his presence unless it pleased them to do so. on the other hand, they promised to restore to him the duchy of urbino and other places seized by them, to serve him in all his expeditions, and not to make war against or ally themselves with any one without his permission. this reconciliation being completed, guido ubaldo, the duke of urbino, again fled to venice, having first destroyed all the fortresses in his state; because, trusting in the people, he did not wish that the fortresses, which he did not think he could defend, should be held by the enemy, since by these means a check would be kept upon his friends. but the duke valentino, having completed this convention, and dispersed his men throughout the romagna, set out for imola at the end of november together with his french men-at-arms: thence he went to cesena, where he stayed some time to negotiate with the envoys of the vitelli and orsini, who had assembled with their men in the duchy of urbino, as to the enterprise in which they should now take part; but nothing being concluded, oliverotto da fermo was sent to propose that if the duke wished to undertake an expedition against tuscany they were ready; if he did not wish it, then they would besiege sinigalia. to this the duke replied that he did not wish to enter into war with tuscany, and thus become hostile to the florentines, but that he was very willing to proceed against sinigalia. it happened that not long afterwards the town surrendered, but the fortress would not yield to them because the castellan would not give it up to any one but the duke in person; therefore they exhorted him to come there. this appeared a good opportunity to the duke, as, being invited by them, and not going of his own will, he would awaken no suspicions. and the more to reassure them, he allowed all the french men-at-arms who were with him in lombardy to depart, except the hundred lancers under mons. di candales, his brother-in-law. he left cesena about the middle of december, and went to fano, and with the utmost cunning and cleverness he persuaded the vitelli and orsini to wait for him at sinigalia, pointing out to them that any lack of compliance would cast a doubt upon the sincerity and permanency of the reconciliation, and that he was a man who wished to make use of the arms and councils of his friends. but vitellozzo remained very stubborn, for the death of his brother warned him that he should not offend a prince and afterwards trust him; nevertheless, persuaded by pagolo orsini, whom the duke had corrupted with gifts and promises, he agreed to wait. upon this the duke, before his departure from fano, which was to be on th december , communicated his designs to eight of his most trusted followers, among whom were don michele and the monsignor d'euna, who was afterwards cardinal; and he ordered that, as soon as vitellozzo, pagolo orsini, the duke di gravina, and oliverotto should arrive, his followers in pairs should take them one by one, entrusting certain men to certain pairs, who should entertain them until they reached sinigalia; nor should they be permitted to leave until they came to the duke's quarters, where they should be seized. the duke afterwards ordered all his horsemen and infantry, of which there were more than two thousand cavalry and ten thousand footmen, to assemble by daybreak at the metauro, a river five miles distant from fano, and await him there. he found himself, therefore, on the last day of december at the metauro with his men, and having sent a cavalcade of about two hundred horsemen before him, he then moved forward the infantry, whom he accompanied with the rest of the men-at-arms. fano and sinigalia are two cities of la marca situated on the shore of the adriatic sea, fifteen miles distant from each other, so that he who goes towards sinigalia has the mountains on his right hand, the bases of which are touched by the sea in some places. the city of sinigalia is distant from the foot of the mountains a little more than a bow-shot and from the shore about a mile. on the side opposite to the city runs a little river which bathes that part of the walls looking towards fano, facing the high road. thus he who draws near to sinigalia comes for a good space by road along the mountains, and reaches the river which passes by sinigalia. if he turns to his left hand along the bank of it, and goes for the distance of a bow-shot, he arrives at a bridge which crosses the river; he is then almost abreast of the gate that leads into sinigalia, not by a straight line, but transversely. before this gate there stands a collection of houses with a square to which the bank of the river forms one side. the vitelli and orsini having received orders to wait for the duke, and to honour him in person, sent away their men to several castles distant from sinigalia about six miles, so that room could be made for the men of the duke; and they left in sinigalia only oliverotto and his band, which consisted of one thousand infantry and one hundred and fifty horsemen, who were quartered in the suburb mentioned above. matters having been thus arranged, the duke valentino left for sinigalia, and when the leaders of the cavalry reached the bridge they did not pass over, but having opened it, one portion wheeled towards the river and the other towards the country, and a way was left in the middle through which the infantry passed, without stopping, into the town. vitellozzo, pagolo, and the duke di gravina on mules, accompanied by a few horsemen, went towards the duke; vitellozo, unarmed and wearing a cape lined with green, appeared very dejected, as if conscious of his approaching death--a circumstance which, in view of the ability of the man and his former fortune, caused some amazement. and it is said that when he parted from his men before setting out for sinigalia to meet the duke he acted as if it were his last parting from them. he recommended his house and its fortunes to his captains, and advised his nephews that it was not the fortune of their house, but the virtues of their fathers that should be kept in mind. these three, therefore, came before the duke and saluted him respectfully, and were received by him with goodwill; they were at once placed between those who were commissioned to look after them. but the duke noticing that oliverotto, who had remained with his band in sinigalia, was missing--for oliverotto was waiting in the square before his quarters near the river, keeping his men in order and drilling them--signalled with his eye to don michelle, to whom the care of oliverotto had been committed, that he should take measures that oliverotto should not escape. therefore don michele rode off and joined oliverotto, telling him that it was not right to keep his men out of their quarters, because these might be taken up by the men of the duke; and he advised him to send them at once to their quarters and to come himself to meet the duke. and oliverotto, having taken this advice, came before the duke, who, when he saw him, called to him; and oliverotto, having made his obeisance, joined the others. so the whole party entered sinigalia, dismounted at the duke's quarters, and went with him into a secret chamber, where the duke made them prisoners; he then mounted on horseback, and issued orders that the men of oliverotto and the orsini should be stripped of their arms. those of oliverotto, being at hand, were quickly settled, but those of the orsini and vitelli, being at a distance, and having a presentiment of the destruction of their masters, had time to prepare themselves, and bearing in mind the valour and discipline of the orsinian and vitellian houses, they stood together against the hostile forces of the country and saved themselves. but the duke's soldiers, not being content with having pillaged the men of oliverotto, began to sack sinigalia, and if the duke had not repressed this outrage by killing some of them they would have completely sacked it. night having come and the tumult being silenced, the duke prepared to kill vitellozzo and oliverotto; he led them into a room and caused them to be strangled. neither of them used words in keeping with their past lives: vitellozzo prayed that he might ask of the pope full pardon for his sins; oliverotto cringed and laid the blame for all injuries against the duke on vitellozzo. pagolo and the duke di gravina orsini were kept alive until the duke heard from rome that the pope had taken the cardinal orsino, the archbishop of florence, and messer jacopo da santa croce. after which news, on th january , in the castle of pieve, they also were strangled in the same way. the life of castruccio castracani of lucca written by nicolo machiavelli and sent to his friends zanobi buondelmonti and luigi alamanni castruccio castracani - it appears, dearest zanobi and luigi, a wonderful thing to those who have considered the matter, that all men, or the larger number of them, who have performed great deeds in the world, and excelled all others in their day, have had their birth and beginning in baseness and obscurity; or have been aggrieved by fortune in some outrageous way. they have either been exposed to the mercy of wild beasts, or they have had so mean a parentage that in shame they have given themselves out to be sons of jove or of some other deity. it would be wearisome to relate who these persons may have been because they are well known to everybody, and, as such tales would not be particularly edifying to those who read them, they are omitted. i believe that these lowly beginnings of great men occur because fortune is desirous of showing to the world that such men owe much to her and little to wisdom, because she begins to show her hand when wisdom can really take no part in their career: thus all success must be attributed to her. castruccio castracani of lucca was one of those men who did great deeds, if he is measured by the times in which he lived and the city in which he was born; but, like many others, he was neither fortunate nor distinguished in his birth, as the course of this history will show. it appeared to be desirable to recall his memory, because i have discerned in him such indications of valour and fortune as should make him a great exemplar to men. i think also that i ought to call your attention to his actions, because you of all men i know delight most in noble deeds. the family of castracani was formerly numbered among the noble families of lucca, but in the days of which i speak it had somewhat fallen in estate, as so often happens in this world. to this family was born a son antonio, who became a priest of the order of san michele of lucca, and for this reason was honoured with the title of messer antonio. he had an only sister, who had been married to buonaccorso cenami, but buonaccorso dying she became a widow, and not wishing to marry again went to live with her brother. messer antonio had a vineyard behind the house where he resided, and as it was bounded on all sides by gardens, any person could have access to it without difficulty. one morning, shortly after sunrise, madonna dianora, as the sister of messer antonio was called, had occasion to go into the vineyard as usual to gather herbs for seasoning the dinner, and hearing a slight rustling among the leaves of a vine she turned her eyes in that direction, and heard something resembling the cry of an infant. whereupon she went towards it, and saw the hands and face of a baby who was lying enveloped in the leaves and who seemed to be crying for its mother. partly wondering and partly fearing, yet full of compassion, she lifted it up and carried it to the house, where she washed it and clothed it with clean linen as is customary, and showed it to messer antonio when he returned home. when he heard what had happened and saw the child he was not less surprised or compassionate than his sister. they discussed between themselves what should be done, and seeing that he was priest and that she had no children, they finally determined to bring it up. they had a nurse for it, and it was reared and loved as if it were their own child. they baptized it, and gave it the name of castruccio after their father. as the years passed castruccio grew very handsome, and gave evidence of wit and discretion, and learnt with a quickness beyond his years those lessons which messer antonio imparted to him. messer antonio intended to make a priest of him, and in time would have inducted him into his canonry and other benefices, and all his instruction was given with this object; but antonio discovered that the character of castruccio was quite unfitted for the priesthood. as soon as castruccio reached the age of fourteen he began to take less notice of the chiding of messer antonio and madonna dianora and no longer to fear them; he left off reading ecclesiastical books, and turned to playing with arms, delighting in nothing so much as in learning their uses, and in running, leaping, and wrestling with other boys. in all exercises he far excelled his companions in courage and bodily strength, and if at any time he did turn to books, only those pleased him which told of wars and the mighty deeds of men. messer antonio beheld all this with vexation and sorrow. there lived in the city of lucca a gentleman of the guinigi family, named messer francesco, whose profession was arms and who in riches, bodily strength, and valour excelled all other men in lucca. he had often fought under the command of the visconti of milan, and as a ghibelline was the valued leader of that party in lucca. this gentleman resided in lucca and was accustomed to assemble with others most mornings and evenings under the balcony of the podesta, which is at the top of the square of san michele, the finest square in lucca, and he had often seen castruccio taking part with other children of the street in those games of which i have spoken. noticing that castruccio far excelled the other boys, and that he appeared to exercise a royal authority over them, and that they loved and obeyed him, messer francesco became greatly desirous of learning who he was. being informed of the circumstances of the bringing up of castruccio he felt a greater desire to have him near to him. therefore he called him one day and asked him whether he would more willingly live in the house of a gentleman, where he would learn to ride horses and use arms, or in the house of a priest, where he would learn nothing but masses and the services of the church. messer francesco could see that it pleased castruccio greatly to hear horses and arms spoken of, even though he stood silent, blushing modestly; but being encouraged by messer francesco to speak, he answered that, if his master were agreeable, nothing would please him more than to give up his priestly studies and take up those of a soldier. this reply delighted messer francesco, and in a very short time he obtained the consent of messer antonio, who was driven to yield by his knowledge of the nature of the lad, and the fear that he would not be able to hold him much longer. thus castruccio passed from the house of messer antonio the priest to the house of messer francesco guinigi the soldier, and it was astonishing to find that in a very short time he manifested all that virtue and bearing which we are accustomed to associate with a true gentleman. in the first place he became an accomplished horseman, and could manage with ease the most fiery charger, and in all jousts and tournaments, although still a youth, he was observed beyond all others, and he excelled in all exercises of strength and dexterity. but what enhanced so much the charm of these accomplishments, was the delightful modesty which enabled him to avoid offence in either act or word to others, for he was deferential to the great men, modest with his equals, and courteous to his inferiors. these gifts made him beloved, not only by all the guinigi family, but by all lucca. when castruccio had reached his eighteenth year, the ghibellines were driven from pavia by the guelphs, and messer francesco was sent by the visconti to assist the ghibellines, and with him went castruccio, in charge of his forces. castruccio gave ample proof of his prudence and courage in this expedition, acquiring greater reputation than any other captain, and his name and fame were known, not only in pavia, but throughout all lombardy. castruccio, having returned to lucca in far higher estimation than he left it, did not omit to use all the means in his power to gain as many friends as he could, neglecting none of those arts which are necessary for that purpose. about this time messer francesco died, leaving a son thirteen years of age named pagolo, and having appointed castruccio to be his son's tutor and administrator of his estate. before he died francesco called castruccio to him, and prayed him to show pagolo that goodwill which he (francesco) had always shown to him, and to render to the son the gratitude which he had not been able to repay to the father. upon the death of francesco, castruccio became the governor and tutor of pagolo, which increased enormously his power and position, and created a certain amount of envy against him in lucca in place of the former universal goodwill, for many men suspected him of harbouring tyrannical intentions. among these the leading man was giorgio degli opizi, the head of the guelph party. this man hoped after the death of messer francesco to become the chief man in lucca, but it seemed to him that castruccio, with the great abilities which he already showed, and holding the position of governor, deprived him of his opportunity; therefore he began to sow those seeds which should rob castruccio of his eminence. castruccio at first treated this with scorn, but afterwards he grew alarmed, thinking that messer giorgio might be able to bring him into disgrace with the deputy of king ruberto of naples and have him driven out of lucca. the lord of pisa at that time was uguccione of the faggiuola of arezzo, who being in the first place elected their captain afterwards became their lord. there resided in paris some exiled ghibellines from lucca, with whom castruccio held communications with the object of effecting their restoration by the help of uguccione. castruccio also brought into his plans friends from lucca who would not endure the authority of the opizi. having fixed upon a plan to be followed, castruccio cautiously fortified the tower of the onesti, filling it with supplies and munitions of war, in order that it might stand a siege for a few days in case of need. when the night came which had been agreed upon with uguccione, who had occupied the plain between the mountains and pisa with many men, the signal was given, and without being observed uguccione approached the gate of san piero and set fire to the portcullis. castruccio raised a great uproar within the city, calling the people to arms and forcing open the gate from his side. uguccione entered with his men, poured through the town, and killed messer giorgio with all his family and many of his friends and supporters. the governor was driven out, and the government reformed according to the wishes of uguccione, to the detriment of the city, because it was found that more than one hundred families were exiled at that time. of those who fled, part went to florence and part to pistoia, which city was the headquarters of the guelph party, and for this reason it became most hostile to uguccione and the lucchese. as it now appeared to the florentines and others of the guelph party that the ghibellines absorbed too much power in tuscany, they determined to restore the exiled guelphs to lucca. they assembled a large army in the val di nievole, and seized montecatini; from thence they marched to montecarlo, in order to secure the free passage into lucca. upon this uguccione assembled his pisan and lucchese forces, and with a number of german cavalry which he drew out of lombardy, he moved against the quarters of the florentines, who upon the appearance of the enemy withdrew from montecarlo, and posted themselves between montecatini and pescia. uguccione now took up a position near to montecarlo, and within about two miles of the enemy, and slight skirmishes between the horse of both parties were of daily occurrence. owing to the illness of uguccione, the pisans and lucchese delayed coming to battle with the enemy. uguccione, finding himself growing worse, went to montecarlo to be cured, and left the command of the army in the hands of castruccio. this change brought about the ruin of the guelphs, who, thinking that the hostile army having lost its captain had lost its head, grew over-confident. castruccio observed this, and allowed some days to pass in order to encourage this belief; he also showed signs of fear, and did not allow any of the munitions of the camp to be used. on the other side, the guelphs grew more insolent the more they saw these evidences of fear, and every day they drew out in the order of battle in front of the army of castruccio. presently, deeming that the enemy was sufficiently emboldened, and having mastered their tactics, he decided to join battle with them. first he spoke a few words of encouragement to his soldiers, and pointed out to them the certainty of victory if they would but obey his commands. castruccio had noticed how the enemy had placed all his best troops in the centre of the line of battle, and his less reliable men on the wings of the army; whereupon he did exactly the opposite, putting his most valiant men on the flanks, while those on whom he could not so strongly rely he moved to the centre. observing this order of battle, he drew out of his lines and quickly came in sight of the hostile army, who, as usual, had come in their insolence to defy him. he then commanded his centre squadrons to march slowly, whilst he moved rapidly forward those on the wings. thus, when they came into contact with the enemy, only the wings of the two armies became engaged, whilst the center battalions remained out of action, for these two portions of the line of battle were separated from each other by a long interval and thus unable to reach each other. by this expedient the more valiant part of castruccio's men were opposed to the weaker part of the enemy's troops, and the most efficient men of the enemy were disengaged; and thus the florentines were unable to fight with those who were arrayed opposite to them, or to give any assistance to their own flanks. so, without much difficulty, castruccio put the enemy to flight on both flanks, and the centre battalions took to flight when they found themselves exposed to attack, without having a chance of displaying their valour. the defeat was complete, and the loss in men very heavy, there being more than ten thousand men killed with many officers and knights of the guelph party in tuscany, and also many princes who had come to help them, among whom were piero, the brother of king ruberto, and carlo, his nephew, and filippo, the lord of taranto. on the part of castruccio the loss did not amount to more than three hundred men, among whom was francesco, the son of uguccione, who, being young and rash, was killed in the first onset. this victory so greatly increased the reputation of castruccio that uguccione conceived some jealousy and suspicion of him, because it appeared to uguccione that this victory had given him no increase of power, but rather than diminished it. being of this mind, he only waited for an opportunity to give effect to it. this occurred on the death of pier agnolo micheli, a man of great repute and abilities in lucca, the murderer of whom fled to the house of castruccio for refuge. on the sergeants of the captain going to arrest the murderer, they were driven off by castruccio, and the murderer escaped. this affair coming to the knowledge of uguccione, who was then at pisa, it appeared to him a proper opportunity to punish castruccio. he therefore sent for his son neri, who was the governor of lucca, and commissioned him to take castruccio prisoner at a banquet and put him to death. castruccio, fearing no evil, went to the governor in a friendly way, was entertained at supper, and then thrown into prison. but neri, fearing to put him to death lest the people should be incensed, kept him alive, in order to hear further from his father concerning his intentions. ugucionne cursed the hesitation and cowardice of his son, and at once set out from pisa to lucca with four hundred horsemen to finish the business in his own way; but he had not yet reached the baths when the pisans rebelled and put his deputy to death and created count gaddo della gherardesca their lord. before uguccione reached lucca he heard of the occurrences at pisa, but it did not appear wise to him to turn back, lest the lucchese with the example of pisa before them should close their gates against him. but the lucchese, having heard of what had happened at pisa, availed themselves of this opportunity to demand the liberation of castruccio, notwithstanding that uguccione had arrived in their city. they first began to speak of it in private circles, afterwards openly in the squares and streets; then they raised a tumult, and with arms in their hands went to uguccione and demanded that castruccio should be set at liberty. uguccione, fearing that worse might happen, released him from prison. whereupon castruccio gathered his friends around him, and with the help of the people attacked uguccione; who, finding he had no resource but in flight, rode away with his friends to lombardy, to the lords of scale, where he died in poverty. but castruccio from being a prisoner became almost a prince in lucca, and he carried himself so discreetly with his friends and the people that they appointed him captain of their army for one year. having obtained this, and wishing to gain renown in war, he planned the recovery of the many towns which had rebelled after the departure of uguccione, and with the help of the pisans, with whom he had concluded a treaty, he marched to serezzana. to capture this place he constructed a fort against it, which is called to-day zerezzanello; in the course of two months castruccio captured the town. with the reputation gained at that siege, he rapidly seized massa, carrara, and lavenza, and in a short time had overrun the whole of lunigiana. in order to close the pass which leads from lombardy to lunigiana, he besieged pontremoli and wrested it from the hands of messer anastagio palavicini, who was the lord of it. after this victory he returned to lucca, and was welcomed by the whole people. and now castruccio, deeming it imprudent any longer to defer making himself a prince, got himself created the lord of lucca by the help of pazzino del poggio, puccinello dal portico, francesco boccansacchi, and cecco guinigi, all of whom he had corrupted; and he was afterwards solemnly and deliberately elected prince by the people. at this time frederick of bavaria, the king of the romans, came into italy to assume the imperial crown, and castruccio, in order that he might make friends with him, met him at the head of five hundred horsemen. castruccio had left as his deputy in lucca, pagolo guinigi, who was held in high estimation, because of the people's love for the memory of his father. castruccio was received in great honour by frederick, and many privileges were conferred upon him, and he was appointed the emperor's lieutenant in tuscany. at this time the pisans were in great fear of gaddo della gherardesca, whom they had driven out of pisa, and they had recourse for assistance to frederick. frederick created castruccio the lord of pisa, and the pisans, in dread of the guelph party, and particularly of the florentines, were constrained to accept him as their lord. frederick, having appointed a governor in rome to watch his italian affairs, returned to germany. all the tuscan and lombardian ghibellines, who followed the imperial lead, had recourse to castruccio for help and counsel, and all promised him the governorship of his country, if enabled to recover it with his assistance. among these exiles were matteo guidi, nardo scolari, lapo uberti, gerozzo nardi, and piero buonaccorsi, all exiled florentines and ghibellines. castruccio had the secret intention of becoming the master of all tuscany by the aid of these men and of his own forces; and in order to gain greater weight in affairs, he entered into a league with messer matteo visconti, the prince of milan, and organized for him the forces of his city and the country districts. as lucca had five gates, he divided his own country districts into five parts, which he supplied with arms, and enrolled the men under captains and ensigns, so that he could quickly bring into the field twenty thousand soldiers, without those whom he could summon to his assistance from pisa. while he surrounded himself with these forces and allies, it happened at messer matteo visconti was attacked by the guelphs of piacenza, who had driven out the ghibellines with the assistance of a florentine army and the king ruberto. messer matteo called upon castruccio to invade the florentines in their own territories, so that, being attacked at home, they should be compelled to draw their army out of lombardy in order to defend themselves. castruccio invaded the valdarno, and seized fucecchio and san miniato, inflicting immense damage upon the country. whereupon the florentines recalled their army, which had scarcely reached tuscany, when castruccio was forced by other necessities to return to lucca. there resided in the city of lucca the poggio family, who were so powerful that they could not only elevate castruccio, but even advance him to the dignity of prince; and it appearing to them they had not received such rewards for their services as they deserved, they incited other families to rebel and to drive castruccio out of lucca. they found their opportunity one morning, and arming themselves, they set upon the lieutenant whom castruccio had left to maintain order and killed him. they endeavoured to raise the people in revolt, but stefano di poggio, a peaceable old man who had taken no hand in the rebellion, intervened and compelled them by his authority to lay down their arms; and he offered to be their mediator with castruccio to obtain from him what they desired. therefore they laid down their arms with no greater intelligence than they had taken them up. castruccio, having heard the news of what had happened at lucca, at once put pagolo guinigi in command of the army, and with a troop of cavalry set out for home. contrary to his expectations, he found the rebellion at an end, yet he posted his men in the most advantageous places throughout the city. as it appeared to stefano that castruccio ought to be very much obliged to him, he sought him out, and without saying anything on his own behalf, for he did not recognize any need for doing so, he begged castruccio to pardon the other members of his family by reason of their youth, their former friendships, and the obligations which castruccio was under to their house. to this castruccio graciously responded, and begged stefano to reassure himself, declaring that it gave him more pleasure to find the tumult at an end than it had ever caused him anxiety to hear of its inception. he encouraged stefano to bring his family to him, saying that he thanked god for having given him the opportunity of showing his clemency and liberality. upon the word of stefano and castruccio they surrendered, and with stefano were immediately thrown into prison and put to death. meanwhile the florentines had recovered san miniato, whereupon it seemed advisable to castruccio to make peace, as it did not appear to him that he was sufficiently secure at lucca to leave him. he approached the florentines with the proposal of a truce, which they readily entertained, for they were weary of the war, and desirous of getting rid of the expenses of it. a treaty was concluded with them for two years, by which both parties agreed to keep the conquests they had made. castruccio thus released from this trouble, turned his attention to affairs in lucca, and in order that he should not again be subject to the perils from which he had just escaped, he, under various pretences and reasons, first wiped out all those who by their ambition might aspire to the principality; not sparing one of them, but depriving them of country and property, and those whom he had in his hands of life also, stating that he had found by experience that none of them were to be trusted. then for his further security he raised a fortress in lucca with the stones of the towers of those whom he had killed or hunted out of the state. whilst castruccio made peace with the florentines, and strengthened his position in lucca, he neglected no opportunity, short of open war, of increasing his importance elsewhere. it appeared to him that if he could get possession of pistoia, he would have one foot in florence, which was his great desire. he, therefore, in various ways made friends with the mountaineers, and worked matters so in pistoia that both parties confided their secrets to him. pistoia was divided, as it always had been, into the bianchi and neri parties; the head of the bianchi was bastiano di possente, and of the neri, jacopo da gia. each of these men held secret communications with castruccio, and each desired to drive the other out of the city; and, after many threatenings, they came to blows. jacopo fortified himself at the florentine gate, bastiano at that of the lucchese side of the city; both trusted more in castruccio than in the florentines, because they believed that castruccio was far more ready and willing to fight than the florentines, and they both sent to him for assistance. he gave promises to both, saying to bastiano that he would come in person, and to jacopo that he would send his pupil, pagolo guinigi. at the appointed time he sent forward pagolo by way of pisa, and went himself direct to pistoia; at midnight both of them met outside the city, and both were admitted as friends. thus the two leaders entered, and at a signal given by castruccio, one killed jacopo da gia, and the other bastiano di possente, and both took prisoners or killed the partisans of either faction. without further opposition pistoia passed into the hands of castruccio, who, having forced the signoria to leave the palace, compelled the people to yield obedience to him, making them many promises and remitting their old debts. the countryside flocked to the city to see the new prince, and all were filled with hope and quickly settled down, influenced in a great measure by his great valour. about this time great disturbances arose in rome, owing to the dearness of living which was caused by the absence of the pontiff at avignon. the german governor, enrico, was much blamed for what happened--murders and tumults following each other daily, without his being able to put an end to them. this caused enrico much anxiety lest the romans should call in ruberto, the king of naples, who would drive the germans out of the city, and bring back the pope. having no nearer friend to whom he could apply for help than castruccio, he sent to him, begging him not only to give him assistance, but also to come in person to rome. castruccio considered that he ought not to hesitate to render the emperor this service, because he believed that he himself would not be safe if at any time the emperor ceased to hold rome. leaving pagolo guinigi in command at lucca, castruccio set out for rome with six hundred horsemen, where he was received by enrico with the greatest distinction. in a short time the presence of castruccio obtained such respect for the emperor that, without bloodshed or violence, good order was restored, chiefly by reason of castruccio having sent by sea from the country round pisa large quantities of corn, and thus removed the source of the trouble. when he had chastised some of the roman leaders, and admonished others, voluntary obedience was rendered to enrico. castruccio received many honours, and was made a roman senator. this dignity was assumed with the greatest pomp, castruccio being clothed in a brocaded toga, which had the following words embroidered on its front: "i am what god wills." whilst on the back was: "what god desires shall be." during this time the florentines, who were much enraged that castruccio should have seized pistoia during the truce, considered how they could tempt the city to rebel, to do which they thought would not be difficult in his absence. among the exiled pistoians in florence were baldo cecchi and jacopo baldini, both men of leading and ready to face danger. these men kept up communications with their friends in pistoia, and with the aid of the florentines entered the city by night, and after driving out some of castruccio's officials and partisans, and killing others, they restored the city to its freedom. the news of this greatly angered castruccio, and taking leave of enrico, he pressed on in great haste to pistoia. when the florentines heard of his return, knowing that he would lose no time, they decided to intercept him with their forces in the val di nievole, under the belief that by doing so they would cut off his road to pistoia. assembling a great army of the supporters of the guelph cause, the florentines entered the pistoian territories. on the other hand, castruccio reached montecarlo with his army; and having heard where the florentines' lay, he decided not to encounter it in the plains of pistoia, nor to await it in the plains of pescia, but, as far as he possibly could, to attack it boldly in the pass of serravalle. he believed that if he succeeded in this design, victory was assured, although he was informed that the florentines had thirty thousand men, whilst he had only twelve thousand. although he had every confidence in his own abilities and the valour of his troops, yet he hesitated to attack his enemy in the open lest he should be overwhelmed by numbers. serravalle is a castle between pescia and pistoia, situated on a hill which blocks the val di nievole, not in the exact pass, but about a bowshot beyond; the pass itself is in places narrow and steep, whilst in general it ascends gently, but is still narrow, especially at the summit where the waters divide, so that twenty men side by side could hold it. the lord of serravalle was manfred, a german, who, before castruccio became lord of pistoia, had been allowed to remain in possession of the castle, it being common to the lucchese and the pistoians, and unclaimed by either--neither of them wishing to displace manfred as long as he kept his promise of neutrality, and came under obligations to no one. for these reasons, and also because the castle was well fortified, he had always been able to maintain his position. it was here that castruccio had determined to fall upon his enemy, for here his few men would have the advantage, and there was no fear lest, seeing the large masses of the hostile force before they became engaged, they should not stand. as soon as this trouble with florence arose, castruccio saw the immense advantage which possession of this castle would give him, and having an intimate friendship with a resident in the castle, he managed matters so with him that four hundred of his men were to be admitted into the castle the night before the attack on the florentines, and the castellan put to death. castruccio, having prepared everything, had now to encourage the florentines to persist in their desire to carry the seat of war away from pistoia into the val di nievole, therefore he did not move his army from montecarlo. thus the florentines hurried on until they reached their encampment under serravalle, intending to cross the hill on the following morning. in the meantime, castruccio had seized the castle at night, had also moved his army from montecarlo, and marching from thence at midnight in dead silence, had reached the foot of serravalle: thus he and the florentines commenced the ascent of the hill at the same time in the morning. castruccio sent forward his infantry by the main road, and a troop of four hundred horsemen by a path on the left towards the castle. the florentines sent forward four hundred cavalry ahead of their army which was following, never expecting to find castruccio in possession of the hill, nor were they aware of his having seized the castle. thus it happened that the florentine horsemen mounting the hill were completely taken by surprise when they discovered the infantry of castruccio, and so close were they upon it they had scarcely time to pull down their visors. it was a case of unready soldiers being attacked by ready, and they were assailed with such vigour that with difficulty they could hold their own, although some few of them got through. when the noise of the fighting reached the florentine camp below, it was filled with confusion. the cavalry and infantry became inextricably mixed: the captains were unable to get their men either backward or forward, owing to the narrowness of the pass, and amid all this tumult no one knew what ought to be done or what could be done. in a short time the cavalry who were engaged with the enemy's infantry were scattered or killed without having made any effective defence because of their unfortunate position, although in sheer desperation they had offered a stout resistance. retreat had been impossible, with the mountains on both flanks, whilst in front were their enemies, and in the rear their friends. when castruccio saw that his men were unable to strike a decisive blow at the enemy and put them to flight, he sent one thousand infantrymen round by the castle, with orders to join the four hundred horsemen he had previously dispatched there, and commanded the whole force to fall upon the flank of the enemy. these orders they carried out with such fury that the florentines could not sustain the attack, but gave way, and were soon in full retreat--conquered more by their unfortunate position than by the valour of their enemy. those in the rear turned towards pistoia, and spread through the plains, each man seeking only his own safety. the defeat was complete and very sanguinary. many captains were taken prisoners, among whom were bandini dei rossi, francesco brunelleschi, and giovanni della tosa, all florentine noblemen, with many tuscans and neapolitans who fought on the florentine side, having been sent by king ruberto to assist the guelphs. immediately the pistoians heard of this defeat they drove out the friends of the guelphs, and surrendered to castruccio. he was not content with occupying prato and all the castles on the plains on both sides of the arno, but marched his army into the plain of peretola, about two miles from florence. here he remained many days, dividing the spoils, and celebrating his victory with feasts and games, holding horse races, and foot races for men and women. he also struck medals in commemoration of the defeat of the florentines. he endeavoured to corrupt some of the citizens of florence, who were to open the city gates at night; but the conspiracy was discovered, and the participators in it taken and beheaded, among whom were tommaso lupacci and lambertuccio frescobaldi. this defeat caused the florentines great anxiety, and despairing of preserving their liberty, they sent envoys to king ruberto of naples, offering him the dominion of their city; and he, knowing of what immense importance the maintenance of the guelph cause was to him, accepted it. he agreed with the florentines to receive from them a yearly tribute of two hundred thousand florins, and he sent his son carlo to florence with four thousand horsemen. shortly after this the florentines were relieved in some degree of the pressure of castruccio's army, owing to his being compelled to leave his positions before florence and march on pisa, in order to suppress a conspiracy that had been raised against him by benedetto lanfranchi, one of the first men in pisa, who could not endure that his fatherland should be under the dominion of the lucchese. he had formed this conspiracy, intending to seize the citadel, kill the partisans of castruccio, and drive out the garrison. as, however, in a conspiracy paucity of numbers is essential to secrecy, so for its execution a few are not sufficient, and in seeking more adherents to his conspiracy lanfranchi encountered a person who revealed the design to castruccio. this betrayal cannot be passed by without severe reproach to bonifacio cerchi and giovanni guidi, two florentine exiles who were suffering their banishment in pisa. thereupon castruccio seized benedetto and put him to death, and beheaded many other noble citizens, and drove their families into exile. it now appeared to castruccio that both pisa and pistoia were thoroughly disaffected; he employed much thought and energy upon securing his position there, and this gave the florentines their opportunity to reorganize their army, and to await the coming of carlo, the son of the king of naples. when carlo arrived they decided to lose no more time, and assembled a great army of more than thirty thousand infantry and ten thousand cavalry--having called to their aid every guelph there was in italy. they consulted whether they should attack pistoia or pisa first, and decided that it would be better to march on the latter--a course, owing to the recent conspiracy, more likely to succeed, and of more advantage to them, because they believed that the surrender of pistoia would follow the acquisition of pisa. in the early part of may , the florentines put in motion this army and quickly occupied lastra, signa, montelupo, and empoli, passing from thence on to san miniato. when castruccio heard of the enormous army which the florentines were sending against him, he was in no degree alarmed, believing that the time had now arrived when fortune would deliver the empire of tuscany into his hands, for he had no reason to think that his enemy would make a better fight, or had better prospects of success, than at pisa or serravalle. he assembled twenty thousand foot soldiers and four thousand horsemen, and with this army went to fucecchio, whilst he sent pagolo guinigi to pisa with five thousand infantry. fucecchio has a stronger position than any other town in the pisan district, owing to its situation between the rivers arno and gusciana and its slight elevation above the surrounding plain. moreover, the enemy could not hinder its being victualled unless they divided their forces, nor could they approach it either from the direction of lucca or pisa, nor could they get through to pisa, or attack castruccio's forces except at a disadvantage. in one case they would find themselves placed between his two armies, the one under his own command and the other under pagolo, and in the other case they would have to cross the arno to get to close quarters with the enemy, an undertaking of great hazard. in order to tempt the florentines to take this latter course, castruccio withdrew his men from the banks of the river and placed them under the walls of fucecchio, leaving a wide expanse of land between them and the river. the florentines, having occupied san miniato, held a council of war to decide whether they should attack pisa or the army of castruccio, and, having weighed the difficulties of both courses, they decided upon the latter. the river arno was at that time low enough to be fordable, yet the water reached to the shoulders of the infantrymen and to the saddles of the horsemen. on the morning of june , the florentines commenced the battle by ordering forward a number of cavalry and ten thousand infantry. castruccio, whose plan of action was fixed, and who well knew what to do, at once attacked the florentines with five thousand infantry and three thousand horsemen, not allowing them to issue from the river before he charged them; he also sent one thousand light infantry up the river bank, and the same number down the arno. the infantry of the florentines were so much impeded by their arms and the water that they were not able to mount the banks of the river, whilst the cavalry had made the passage of the river more difficult for the others, by reason of the few who had crossed having broken up the bed of the river, and this being deep with mud, many of the horses rolled over with their riders and many of them had stuck so fast that they could not move. when the florentine captains saw the difficulties their men were meeting, they withdrew them and moved higher up the river, hoping to find the river bed less treacherous and the banks more adapted for landing. these men were met at the bank by the forces which castruccio had already sent forward, who, being light armed with bucklers and javelins in their hands, let fly with tremendous shouts into the faces and bodies of the cavalry. the horses, alarmed by the noise and the wounds, would not move forward, and trampled each other in great confusion. the fight between the men of castruccio and those of the enemy who succeeded in crossing was sharp and terrible; both sides fought with the utmost desperation and neither would yield. the soldiers of castruccio fought to drive the others back into the river, whilst the florentines strove to get a footing on land in order to make room for the others pressing forward, who if they could but get out of the water would be able to fight, and in this obstinate conflict they were urged on by their captains. castruccio shouted to his men that these were the same enemies whom they had before conquered at serravalle, whilst the florentines reproached each other that the many should be overcome by the few. at length castruccio, seeing how long the battle had lasted, and that both his men and the enemy were utterly exhausted, and that both sides had many killed and wounded, pushed forward another body of infantry to take up a position at the rear of those who were fighting; he then commanded these latter to open their ranks as if they intended to retreat, and one part of them to turn to the right and another to the left. this cleared a space of which the florentines at once took advantage, and thus gained possession of a portion of the battlefield. but when these tired soldiers found themselves at close quarters with castruccio's reserves they could not stand against them and at once fell back into the river. the cavalry of either side had not as yet gained any decisive advantage over the other, because castruccio, knowing his inferiority in this arm, had commanded his leaders only to stand on the defensive against the attacks of their adversaries, as he hoped that when he had overcome the infantry he would be able to make short work of the cavalry. this fell out as he had hoped, for when he saw the florentine army driven back across the river he ordered the remainder of his infantry to attack the cavalry of the enemy. this they did with lance and javelin, and, joined by their own cavalry, fell upon the enemy with the greatest fury and soon put him to flight. the florentine captains, having seen the difficulty their cavalry had met with in crossing the river, had attempted to make their infantry cross lower down the river, in order to attack the flanks of castruccio's army. but here, also, the banks were steep and already lined by the men of castruccio, and this movement was quite useless. thus the florentines were so completely defeated at all points that scarcely a third of them escaped, and castruccio was again covered with glory. many captains were taken prisoners, and carlo, the son of king ruberto, with michelagnolo falconi and taddeo degli albizzi, the florentine commissioners, fled to empoli. if the spoils were great, the slaughter was infinitely greater, as might be expected in such a battle. of the florentines there fell twenty thousand two hundred and thirty-one men, whilst castruccio lost one thousand five hundred and seventy men. but fortune growing envious of the glory of castruccio took away his life just at the time when she should have preserved it, and thus ruined all those plans which for so long a time he had worked to carry into effect, and in the successful prosecution of which nothing but death could have stopped him. castruccio was in the thick of the battle the whole of the day; and when the end of it came, although fatigued and overheated, he stood at the gate of fucecchio to welcome his men on their return from victory and personally thank them. he was also on the watch for any attempt of the enemy to retrieve the fortunes of the day; he being of the opinion that it was the duty of a good general to be the first man in the saddle and the last out of it. here castruccio stood exposed to a wind which often rises at midday on the banks of the arno, and which is often very unhealthy; from this he took a chill, of which he thought nothing, as he was accustomed to such troubles; but it was the cause of his death. on the following night he was attacked with high fever, which increased so rapidly that the doctors saw it must prove fatal. castruccio, therefore, called pagolo guinigi to him, and addressed him as follows: "if i could have believed that fortune would have cut me off in the midst of the career which was leading to that glory which all my successes promised, i should have laboured less, and i should have left thee, if a smaller state, at least with fewer enemies and perils, because i should have been content with the governorships of lucca and pisa. i should neither have subjugated the pistoians, nor outraged the florentines with so many injuries. but i would have made both these peoples my friends, and i should have lived, if no longer, at least more peacefully, and have left you a state without a doubt smaller, but one more secure and established on a surer foundation. but fortune, who insists upon having the arbitrament of human affairs, did not endow me with sufficient judgment to recognize this from the first, nor the time to surmount it. thou hast heard, for many have told thee, and i have never concealed it, how i entered the house of thy father whilst yet a boy--a stranger to all those ambitions which every generous soul should feel--and how i was brought up by him, and loved as though i had been born of his blood; how under his governance i learned to be valiant and capable of availing myself of all that fortune, of which thou hast been witness. when thy good father came to die, he committed thee and all his possessions to my care, and i have brought thee up with that love, and increased thy estate with that care, which i was bound to show. and in order that thou shouldst not only possess the estate which thy father left, but also that which my fortune and abilities have gained, i have never married, so that the love of children should never deflect my mind from that gratitude which i owed to the children of thy father. thus i leave thee a vast estate, of which i am well content, but i am deeply concerned, inasmuch as i leave it thee unsettled and insecure. thou hast the city of lucca on thy hands, which will never rest contented under thy government. thou hast also pisa, where the men are of nature changeable and unreliable, who, although they may be sometimes held in subjection, yet they will ever disdain to serve under a lucchese. pistoia is also disloyal to thee, she being eaten up with factions and deeply incensed against thy family by reason of the wrongs recently inflicted upon them. thou hast for neighbours the offended florentines, injured by us in a thousand ways, but not utterly destroyed, who will hail the news of my death with more delight than they would the acquisition of all tuscany. in the emperor and in the princes of milan thou canst place no reliance, for they are far distant, slow, and their help is very long in coming. therefore, thou hast no hope in anything but in thine own abilities, and in the memory of my valour, and in the prestige which this latest victory has brought thee; which, as thou knowest how to use it with prudence, will assist thee to come to terms with the florentines, who, as they are suffering under this great defeat, should be inclined to listen to thee. and whereas i have sought to make them my enemies, because i believed that war with them would conduce to my power and glory, thou hast every inducement to make friends of them, because their alliance will bring thee advantages and security. it is of the greatest important in this world that a man should know himself, and the measure of his own strength and means; and he who knows that he has not a genius for fighting must learn how to govern by the arts of peace. and it will be well for thee to rule thy conduct by my counsel, and to learn in this way to enjoy what my life-work and dangers have gained; and in this thou wilt easily succeed when thou hast learnt to believe that what i have told thee is true. and thou wilt be doubly indebted to me, in that i have left thee this realm and have taught thee how to keep it." after this there came to castruccio those citizens of pisa, pistoia, and lucca, who had been fighting at his side, and whilst recommending pagolo to them, and making them swear obedience to him as his successor, he died. he left a happy memory to those who had known him, and no prince of those times was ever loved with such devotion as he was. his obsequies were celebrated with every sign of mourning, and he was buried in san francesco at lucca. fortune was not so friendly to pagolo guinigi as she had been to castruccio, for he had not the abilities. not long after the death of castruccio, pagolo lost pisa, and then pistoia, and only with difficulty held on to lucca. this latter city continued in the family of guinigi until the time of the great-grandson of pagolo. from what has been related here it will be seen that castruccio was a man of exceptional abilities, not only measured by men of his own time, but also by those of an earlier date. in stature he was above the ordinary height, and perfectly proportioned. he was of a gracious presence, and he welcomed men with such urbanity that those who spoke with him rarely left him displeased. his hair was inclined to be red, and he wore it cut short above the ears, and, whether it rained or snowed, he always went without a hat. he was delightful among friends, but terrible to his enemies; just to his subjects; ready to play false with the unfaithful, and willing to overcome by fraud those whom he desired to subdue, because he was wont to say that it was the victory that brought the glory, not the methods of achieving it. no one was bolder in facing danger, none more prudent in extricating himself. he was accustomed to say that men ought to attempt everything and fear nothing; that god is a lover of strong men, because one always sees that the weak are chastised by the strong. he was also wonderfully sharp or biting though courteous in his answers; and as he did not look for any indulgence in this way of speaking from others, so he was not angered with others did not show it to him. it has often happened that he has listened quietly when others have spoken sharply to him, as on the following occasions. he had caused a ducat to be given for a partridge, and was taken to task for doing so by a friend, to whom castruccio had said: "you would not have given more than a penny." "that is true," answered the friend. then said castruccio to him: "a ducat is much less to me." having about him a flatterer on whom he had spat to show that he scorned him, the flatterer said to him: "fisherman are willing to let the waters of the sea saturate them in order that they may take a few little fishes, and i allow myself to be wetted by spittle that i may catch a whale"; and this was not only heard by castruccio with patience but rewarded. when told by a priest that it was wicked for him to live so sumptuously, castruccio said: "if that be a vice then you should not fare so splendidly at the feasts of our saints." passing through a street he saw a young man as he came out of a house of ill fame blush at being seen by castruccio, and said to him: "thou shouldst not be ashamed when thou comest out, but when thou goest into such places." a friend gave him a very curiously tied knot to undo and was told: "fool, do you think that i wish to untie a thing which gave so much trouble to fasten." castruccio said to one who professed to be a philosopher: "you are like the dogs who always run after those who will give them the best to eat," and was answered: "we are rather like the doctors who go to the houses of those who have the greatest need of them." going by water from pisa to leghorn, castruccio was much disturbed by a dangerous storm that sprang up, and was reproached for cowardice by one of those with him, who said that he did not fear anything. castruccio answered that he did not wonder at that, since every man valued his soul for what is was worth. being asked by one what he ought to do to gain estimation, he said: "when thou goest to a banquet take care that thou dost not seat one piece of wood upon another." to a person who was boasting that he had read many things, castruccio said: "he knows better than to boast of remembering many things." someone bragged that he could drink much without becoming intoxicated. castruccio replied: "an ox does the same." castruccio was acquainted with a girl with whom he had intimate relations, and being blamed by a friend who told him that it was undignified for him to be taken in by a woman, he said: "she has not taken me in, i have taken her." being also blamed for eating very dainty foods, he answered: "thou dost not spend as much as i do?" and being told that it was true, he continued: "then thou art more avaricious than i am gluttonous." being invited by taddeo bernardi, a very rich and splendid citizen of luca, to supper, he went to the house and was shown by taddeo into a chamber hung with silk and paved with fine stones representing flowers and foliage of the most beautiful colouring. castruccio gathered some saliva in his mouth and spat it out upon taddeo, and seeing him much disturbed by this, said to him: "i knew not where to spit in order to offend thee less." being asked how caesar died he said: "god willing i will die as he did." being one night in the house of one of his gentlemen where many ladies were assembled, he was reproved by one of his friends for dancing and amusing himself with them more than was usual in one of his station, so he said: "he who is considered wise by day will not be considered a fool at night." a person came to demand a favour of castruccio, and thinking he was not listening to his plea threw himself on his knees to the ground, and being sharply reproved by castruccio, said: "thou art the reason of my acting thus for thou hast thy ears in thy feet," whereupon he obtained double the favour he had asked. castruccio used to say that the way to hell was an easy one, seeing that it was in a downward direction and you travelled blindfolded. being asked a favour by one who used many superfluous words, he said to him: "when you have another request to make, send someone else to make it." having been wearied by a similar man with a long oration who wound up by saying: "perhaps i have fatigued you by speaking so long," castruccio said: "you have not, because i have not listened to a word you said." he used to say of one who had been a beautiful child and who afterwards became a fine man, that he was dangerous, because he first took the husbands from the wives and now he took the wives from their husbands. to an envious man who laughed, he said: "do you laugh because you are successful or because another is unfortunate?" whilst he was still in the charge of messer francesco guinigi, one of his companions said to him: "what shall i give you if you will let me give you a blow on the nose?" castruccio answered: "a helmet." having put to death a citizen of lucca who had been instrumental in raising him to power, and being told that he had done wrong to kill one of his old friends, he answered that people deceived themselves; he had only killed a new enemy. castruccio praised greatly those men who intended to take a wife and then did not do so, saying that they were like men who said they would go to sea, and then refused when the time came. he said that it always struck him with surprise that whilst men in buying an earthen or glass vase would sound it first to learn if it were good, yet in choosing a wife they were content with only looking at her. he was once asked in what manner he would wish to be buried when he died, and answered: "with the face turned downwards, for i know when i am gone this country will be turned upside down." on being asked if it had ever occurred to him to become a friar in order to save his soul, he answered that it had not, because it appeared strange to him that fra lazerone should go to paradise and uguccione della faggiuola to the inferno. he was once asked when should a man eat to preserve his health, and replied: "if the man be rich let him eat when he is hungry; if he be poor, then when he can." seeing one of his gentlemen make a member of his family lace him up, he said to him: "i pray god that you will let him feed you also." seeing that someone had written upon his house in latin the words: "may god preserve this house from the wicked," he said, "the owner must never go in." passing through one of the streets he saw a small house with a very large door, and remarked: "that house will fly through the door." he was having a discussion with the ambassador of the king of naples concerning the property of some banished nobles, when a dispute arose between them, and the ambassador asked him if he had no fear of the king. "is this king of yours a bad man or a good one?" asked castruccio, and was told that he was a good one, whereupon he said, "why should you suggest that i should be afraid of a good man?" i could recount many other stories of his sayings both witty and weighty, but i think that the above will be sufficient testimony to his high qualities. he lived forty-four years, and was in every way a prince. and as he was surrounded by many evidences of his good fortune, so he also desired to have near him some memorials of his bad fortune; therefore the manacles with which he was chained in prison are to be seen to this day fixed up in the tower of his residence, where they were placed by him to testify forever to his days of adversity. as in his life he was inferior neither to philip of macedon, the father of alexander, nor to scipio of rome, so he died in the same year of his age as they did, and he would doubtless have excelled both of them had fortune decreed that he should be born, not in lucca, but in macedonia or rome. human nature in politics by graham wallas preface i offer my thanks to several friends who have been kind enough to read the proofs of this book, and to send me corrections and suggestions; among whom i will mention professors john adams and j.h. muirhead, dr. a. wolf, and messrs. w.h. winch, sidney webb, l. pearsall smith, and a.e. zimmern. it is, for their sake, rather more necessary than usual for me to add that some statements still remain in the text which one or more of them would have desired to see omitted or differently expressed. i have attempted in the footnotes to indicate those writers whose books i have used. but i should like to record here my special obligation to professor william james's _principles of psychology_, which gave me, a good many years ago, the conscious desire to think psychologically about my work as politician and teacher. i have been sometimes asked to recommend a list of books on the psychology of politics. i believe that at the present stage of the science, a politician will gain more from reading, in the light of his own experience, those treatises on psychology which have been written without special reference to politics, than by beginning with the literature of applied political psychology. but readers who are not politicians will find particular points dealt with in the works of the late monsieur g. tarde, especially _l'opinion et la foule_ and _les lois de l'imitation_ and in the books quoted in the course of an interesting article on 'herd instinct,' by mr. w. trotter in the _sociological review_ for july . the political psychology of the poorer inhabitants of a great city is considered from an individual and fascinating point of view by miss jane addams (of chicago) in her _democracy and social ethics_. graham wallas. preface to the second edition i have made hardly any changes in the book as it first appeared, beyond the correction of a few verbal slips. the important political developments which have occurred during the last eighteen months in the english parliament, in turkey, persia, and india, and in germany, have not altered my conclusions as to the psychological problems raised by modern forms of government; and it would involve an impossible and undesirable amount of rewriting to substitute 'up-to-date' illustrations for those which i drew from the current events of and . i should desire to add to the books recommended above mr. w. m'dougall's _social psychology_, with special reference to his analysis of instinct. g.w. london school of economics and political science, clare market, london, w.c., _ th december ._ preface to the third edition ( ) this edition is, like the second edition ( ), a reprint, with a few verbal corrections, of the first edition ( ). i tried in to make two main points clear. my first point was the danger, for all human activities, but especially for the working of democracy, of the 'intellectualist' assumption, 'that every human action is the result of an intellectual process, by which a man first thinks of some end which he desires, and then calculates the means by which that end can be attained' (p. ). my second point was the need of substituting for that assumption a conscious and systematic effort of thought. 'the whole progress,' i argued, 'of human civilisation beyond its earliest stages, has been made possible by the invention of methods of thought which enable us to interpret and forecast the working of nature more successfully than we could, if we merely followed the line of least resistance in the use of our minds' (p. ). in insistence on my first point is not so necessary as it was in . the assumption that men are automatically guided by 'enlightened self-interest' has been discredited by the facts of the war and the peace, the success of an anti-parliamentary and anti-intellectualist revolution in russia, the british election of , the french election of , the confusion of politics in america, the breakdown of political machinery in central europe, and the general unhappiness which has resulted from four years of the most intense and heroic effort that the human race has ever made. one only needs to compare the disillusioned realism of our present war and post-war pictures and poems with the nineteenth-century war pictures at versailles and berlin, and the war poems of campbell, and berenger, and tennyson, to realise how far we now are from exaggerating human rationality. it is my second point, which, in the world as the war has left it, is most important. there is no longer much danger that we shall assume that man always and automatically thinks of ends and calculates means. the danger is that we may be too tired or too hopeless to undertake the conscious effort by which alone we can think of ends and calculate means. the great mechanical inventions of the nineteenth century have given us an opportunity of choosing for ourselves our way of living such as men have never had before. up to our own time the vast majority of mankind have had enough to do to keep themselves alive, and to satisfy the blind instinct which impels them to hand on life to another generation. an effective choice has only been given to a tiny class of hereditary property owners, or a few organisers of other men's labour. even when, as in ancient egypt or mesopotamia, nature offered whole populations three hundred free days in the year if they would devote two months to ploughing and harvest, all but a fraction still spent themselves in unwilling toil, building tombs or palaces, or equipping armies, for a native monarch or a foreign conqueror. the monarch could choose his life, but his choice was poor enough. 'there is,' says aristotle, 'a way of living so brutish that it is only worth notice because many of those who can live any life they like make no better choice than did sardanapalus.' the greek thinkers started modern civilisation, because they insisted that the trading populations of their walled cities should force themselves to think out an answer to the question, what kind of life is good. 'the origin of the city-state,' says aristotle, 'is that it enables us to live; its justification is that it enables us to live well.' before the war, there were in london and new york, and berlin, thousands of rich men and women as free to choose their way of life as was sardanapalus, and as dissatisfied with their own choice. many of the sons and daughters of the owners of railways and coal mines and rubber plantations were 'fed up' with motoring or bridge, or even with the hunting and fishing which meant a frank resumption of palaeolithic life without the spur of palaeolithic hunger. but my own work brought me into contact with an unprivileged class, whose degree of freedom was the special product of modern industrial civilisation, and on whose use of their freedom the future of civilisation may depend. a clever young mechanic, at the age when the wanderjahre of the medieval craftsman used to begin, would come home after tending a 'speeded up' machine from a.m., with an hour's interval, till p.m. at p.m. he had finished his tea in the crowded living-room of his mother's house, and was 'free' to do what he liked. that evening, perhaps, his whole being tingled with half-conscious desires for love, and adventure, and knowledge, and achievement. on another day he might have gone to a billiard match at his club, or have hung round the corner for a girl who smiled at him as he left the factory, or might have sat on his bed and ground at a chapter of marx or hobson. but this evening he saw his life as a whole. the way of living that had been implied in the religious lessons at school seemed strangely irrelevant; but still he felt humble, and kind, and anxious for guidance. should he aim at marriage, and if so should he have children at once or at all? if he did not marry, could he avoid self-contempt and disease? should he face the life of a socialist organiser, with its strain and uncertainty, and the continual possibility of disillusionment? should he fill up every evening with technical classes, and postpone his ideals until he had become rich? and if he became rich what should he do with his money? meanwhile, there was the urgent impulse to walk and think; but where should he walk to, and with whom? the young schoolmistress, in her bed-sitting-room a few streets off, was in no better case. she and a friend sat late last night, agreeing that the life they were living was no real life at all; but what was the alternative? had the 'home duties' to which her high church sister devoted herself with devastating self-sacrifice any more meaning? ought she, with her eyes open, and without much hope of spontaneous love, to enter into the childless 'modern' marriage which alone seemed possible for her? ought she to spend herself in a reckless campaign for the suffrage? meanwhile, she had had her tea, her eyes were too tired to read, and what on earth should she do till bedtime? such moments of clear self-questioning were of course rare, but the nerve-fretting problems always existed. industrial civilisation had given the growing and working generation a certain amount of leisure, and education enough to conceive of a choice in the use of that leisure; but had offered them no guidance in making their choice. we are faced, as i write, with the hideous danger that fighting may blaze up again throughout the whole eurasian continent, and that the young men and girls of europe may have no more choice in the way they spend their time than they had from to or the serfs of pharaoh had in ancient egypt. but if that immediate danger is avoided, i dream that in europe and in america a conscious and systematic discussion by the young thinkers of our time of the conditions of a good life for an unprivileged population may be one of the results of the new vision of human nature and human possibilities which modern science and modern industry have forced upon us. within each nation, industrial organisation may cease to be a confused and wasteful struggle of interests, if it is consciously related to a chosen way of life for which it offers to every worker the material means. international relations may cease to consist of a constant plotting of evil by each nation for its neighbours, if ever the youth of all nations know that french, and british, and germans, and russians, and chinese, and americans, are taking a conscious part in the great adventure of discovering ways of living open to all, and which all can believe to be good. graham wallas. _august_ . contents introduction part i _the conditions of the problem_ chapter i impulse and instinct in politics chapter ii political entities chapter iii non-rational inference in politics chapter iv the material of political reasoning chapter v the method of political reasoning part ii _possibilities of progress_ chapter i political morality chapter ii representative government chapter iii official thought chapter iv nationality and humanity synopsis of contents _(introduction, page )_ the study of politics is now in an unsatisfactory position. throughout europe and america, representative democracy is generally accepted as the best form of government; but those who have had most experience of its actual working are often disappointed and apprehensive. democracy has not been extended to non-european races, and during the last few years many democratic movements have failed. this dissatisfaction has led to much study of political institutions; but little attention has been recently given in works on politics to the facts of human nature. political science in the past was mainly based, on conceptions of human nature, but the discredit of the dogmatic political writers of the early nineteenth century has made modern students of politics over-anxious to avoid anything which recalls their methods. that advance therefore of psychology which has transformed pedagogy and criminology has left politics largely unchanged. the neglect of the study of human nature is likely, however, to prove only a temporary phase of political thought, and there are already signs that it, is coming to an end. _(part i.--chapter i.--impulse and instinct in politics, page )_ any examination of human nature in politics must begin with an attempt to overcome that 'intellectualism' which results both from the traditions of political science and from the mental habits of ordinary men. political impulses are not mere intellectual inferences from calculations of means and ends; but tendencies prior to, though modified by, the thought and experience of individual human beings. this may be seen if we watch the action in politics of such impulses as personal affection, fear, ridicule, the desire of property, etc. all our impulses and instincts are greatly increased in their immediate effectiveness if they are 'pure,' and in their more permanent results if they are 'first hand' and are connected with the earlier stages of our evolution. in modern politics the emotional stimulus which reaches us through the newspapers is generally 'pure,' but 'second hand,' and therefore is both facile and transient. the frequent repetition of an emotion or impulse is often distressing. politicians, like advertisers, must allow for this fact, which again is connected with that combination of the need of privacy with intolerance of solitude to which we have to adjust our social arrangements. political emotions are sometimes pathologically intensified when experienced simultaneously by large numbers of human beings in physical association, but the conditions of political life in england do not often produce this phenomenon. the future of international politics largely depends on the question whether we have a specific instinct of hatred for human beings of a different racial type from ourselves. the point is not yet settled, but many facts which are often explained as the result of such an instinct seem to be due to other and more general instincts modified by association. _(chapter ii.--political entities, page: )_ political acts and impulses are the result of the contact between human nature and its environment. during the period studied by the politician, human nature has changed very little, but political environment has changed with ever-increasing rapidity. those facts of our environment which stimulate impulse and action reach us through our senses, and are selected from the mass of our sensations and memories by our instinctive or acquired knowledge of their significance. in politics the things recognised are, for the most part, made by man himself, and our knowledge of their significance is not instinctive but acquired. recognition tends to attach itself to symbols, which take the place of more complex sensations and memories. some of the most difficult problems in politics result from the relation between the conscious use in reasoning of the symbols called words, and their more or less automatic and unconscious effect in stimulating emotion and action. a political symbol whose significance has once been established by association, may go through a psychological development of its own, apart from the history of the facts which were originally symbolised by it. this may be seen in the case of the names and emblems of nations and parties; and still more clearly in the history of those commercial entities--'teas' or 'soaps'--which are already made current by advertisement before any objects to be symbolised by them have been made or chosen. ethical difficulties are often created by the relation between the quickly changing opinions of any individual politician and such slowly changing entities as his reputation, his party name, or the traditional personality of a newspaper which he may control. _(chapter iii.--non-rational inference in politics, page )_ intellectualist political thinkers often assume, not only that political action is necessarily the result of inferences as to means and ends, but that all inferences are of the same 'rational' type. it is difficult to distinguish sharply between rational and non-rational inferences in the stream of mental experience, but it is clear that many of the half-conscious processes by which men form their political opinions are non-rational. we can generally trust non-rational inferences in ordinary life because they do not give rise to conscious opinions until they have been strengthened by a large number of undesigned coincidences. but conjurers and others who study our non-rational mental processes can so play upon them as to make us form absurd beliefs. the empirical art of politics consists largely in the creation of opinion by the deliberate exploitation of subconscious non-rational inference. the process of inference may go on beyond the point desired by the politician who started it, and is as likely to take place in the mind of a passive newspaper-reader as among the members of the most excited crowd. _(chapter iv.--the material of political reasoning, page )_ but men can and do reason, though reasoning is only one of their mental processes. the rules for valid reasoning laid down by the greeks were intended primarily for use in politics, but in politics reasoning has in fact proved to be more difficult and less successful than in the physical sciences. the chief cause of this is to be found in the character of its material. we have to select or create entities to reason about, just as we select or create entities to stimulate our impulses and non-rational inferences. in the physical sciences these selected entities are of two types, either concrete things made exactly alike, or abstracted qualities in respect of which things otherwise unlike can be exactly compared. in politics, entities of the first type cannot be created, and political philosophers have constantly sought for some simple entity of the second type, some fact or quality, which may serve as an exact 'standard' for political calculation. this search has hitherto been unsuccessful, and the analogy of the biological sciences suggests that politicians are most likely to acquire the power of valid reasoning when they, like doctors, avoid the over-simplification of their material, and aim at using in their reasoning as many facts as possible about the human type, its individual variations, and its environment. biologists have shown that large numbers of facts as to individual variations within any type can be remembered if they are arranged as continuous curves rather than as uniform rules or arbitrary exceptions. on the other hand, any attempt to arrange the facts of environment with the same approach to continuity as is possible with the facts of human nature is likely to result in error. the study of history cannot be assimilated to that of biology. _(chapter v.--the method of political reasoning, page )_ the method of political reasoning has shared the traditional over-simplification of its subject-matter. in economics, where both method and subject-matter were originally still more completely simplified, 'quantitative' methods have since jevons's time tended to take the place of 'qualitative'. how far is a similar change possible in politics? some political questions can obviously be argued quantitatively. others are less obviously quantitative. but even on the most complex political issues experienced and responsible statesmen do in fact think quantitatively, although the methods by which they reach their results are often unconscious. when, however, all politicians start with intellectualist assumptions, though some half-consciously acquire quantitative habits of thought, many desert politics altogether from disillusionment and disgust. what is wanted in the training of a statesman is the fully conscious formulation and acceptance of those methods which will not have to be unlearned. such a conscious change is already taking place in the work of royal commissions, international congresses, and other bodies and persons who have to arrange and draw conclusions from large masses of specially collected evidence. their methods and vocabulary, even when not numerical, are nowadays in large part quantitative. in parliamentary oratory, however, the old tradition of over-simplification is apt to persist. _(part ii.--chapter i.--political morality, page )_ but in what ways can such changes in political science affect the actual trend of political forces? in the first place, the abandonment by political thinkers and writers of the intellectualist conception of politics will sooner or later influence the moral judgments of the working politician. a young candidate will begin with a new conception of his moral relation to those whose will and opinions he is attempting to influence. he will start, in that respect, from a position hitherto confined to statesmen who have been made cynical by experience. if that were the only result of our new knowledge, political morality might be changed for the worse. but the change will go deeper. when men become conscious of psychological processes of which they have been unconscious or half-conscious, not only are they put on their guard against the exploitation of those processes in themselves by others, but they become better able to control them from within. if, however, a conscious moral purpose is to be strong enough to overcome, as a political force, the advancing art of political exploitation, the conception of control from within must be formed into an ideal entity which, like 'science,' can appeal to popular imagination, and be spread by an organised system of education. the difficulties in this are great (owing in part to our ignorance of the varied reactions of self-consciousness on instinct), but a wide extension of the idea of causation is not inconsistent with an increased intensity of moral passion. _(chapter ii.--representative government, page )_ the changes now going on in our conception of the psychological basis of politics will also re-open the discussion of representative democracy. some of the old arguments in that discussion will no longer be accepted as valid, and it is probable that many political thinkers (especially among those who have been educated in the natural sciences) will return to plato's proposal of a despotic government carried on by a selected and trained class, who live apart from the 'ostensible world'; though english experience in india indicates that even the most carefully selected official must still live in the 'ostensible world,' and that the argument that good government requires the consent of the governed does not depend for its validity upon its original intellectualist associations. our new way of thinking about politics will, however, certainly change the form, not only of the argument for consent, but also of the institutions by which consent is expressed. an election (like a jury-trial) will be, and is already beginning to be, looked upon rather as a process by which right decisions are formed under right conditions, than as a mechanical expedient by which decisions already formed are ascertained. proposals for electoral reform which seem to continue the old intellectualist tradition are still brought forward, and new difficulties in the working of representative government will arise from the wider extension of political power. but that conception of representation may spread which desires both to increase the knowledge and public spirit of the voter and to provide that no strain is put upon him greater than he can bear. _(chapter iii.--official thought, page )_ a quantitative examination of the political force created by popular election shows the importance of the work of non-elected officials in any effective scheme of democracy. what should be the relation between these officials and the elected representatives? on this point english opinion already shows a marked reaction from the intellectualist conception of representative government. we accept the fact that most state officials are appointed by a system uncontrolled either by individual members of parliament or by parliament as a whole, that they hold office during good behaviour, and that they are our main source of information as to some of the most difficult points on which we form political judgments. it is largely an accident that the same system has not been introduced into our local government. but such a half-conscious acceptance of a partially independent civil service as an existing fact is not enough. we must set ourselves to realise clearly what we intend our officials to do, and to consider how far our present modes of appointment, and especially our present methods of organising official work, provide the most effective means for carrying out that intention. _(chapter iv.--nationality and humanity, page )_ what influence will the new tendencies in political thought have on the emotional and intellectual conditions of political solidarity? in the old city-states, where the area of government corresponded to the actual range of human vision and memory, a kind of local emotion could be developed which is now impossible in a 'delocalised' population. the solidarity of a modern state must therefore depend on facts not of observation but of imagination. the makers of the existing european national states, mazzini and bismarck, held that the possible extent of a state depended on national homogeneity, _i.e._ on the possibility that every individual member of a state should believe that all the others were like himself. bismarck thought that the degree of actual homogeneity which was a necessary basis for this belief could be made by 'blood and iron'; mazzini thought that mankind was already divided into homogeneous groups whose limits should be followed in the reconstruction of europe. both were convinced that the emotion of political solidarity was impossible between individuals of consciously different national types. during the last quarter of a century this conception of the world as composed of a mosaic of homogeneous nations has been made more difficult (a) by the continued existence and even growth of separate national feelings within modern states, and (b) by the fact that the european and non-european races have entered into closer political relationships. the attempt, therefore, to transfer the traditions of national homogeneity and solidarity either to the inhabitants of a modern world-empire as a whole, or to the members of the dominant race in it, disguises the real facts and adds to the danger of war. can we, however, acquire a political emotion based, not upon a belief in the likeness of individual human beings, but upon the recognition of their unlikeness? darwin's proof of the relation between individual and racial variation might have produced such an emotion if it had not been accompanied by the conception of the 'struggle for life' as a moral duty. as it is, inter-racial and even inter-imperial wars can be represented as necessary stages in the progress of the species. but present-day biologists tell us that the improvement of any one race will come most effectively from the conscious co-operation, and not from the blind conflict of individuals; and it may be found that the improvement of the whole species will also come rather from a conscious world-purpose based upon a recognition of the value of racial as well as individual variety, than from mere fighting. human nature in politics introduction the study of politics is just now ( ) in a curiously unsatisfactory position. at first sight the main controversy as to the best form of government appears to have been finally settled in favour of representative democracy. forty years ago it could still be argued that to base the sovereignty of a great modern nation upon a widely extended popular vote was, in europe at least, an experiment which had never been successfully tried. england, indeed, by the 'leap in the dark' of , became for the moment the only large european state whose government was democratic and representative. but to-day a parliamentary republic based upon universal suffrage exists in france without serious opposition or protest. italy enjoys an apparently stable constitutional monarchy. universal suffrage has just been enacted in austria. even the german emperor after the election of spoke of himself rather as the successful leader of a popular electoral campaign than as the inheritor of a divine right. the vast majority of the russian nation passionately desires a sovereign parliament, and a reactionary duma finds itself steadily pushed by circumstances towards that position. the most ultramontane roman catholics demand temporal power for the pope, no longer as an ideal system of world government, but as an expedient for securing in a few square miles of italian territory liberty of action for the directors of a church almost all of whose members will remain voting citizens of constitutional states. none of the proposals for a non-representative democracy which were associated with the communist and anarchist movements of the nineteenth century have been at all widely accepted, or have presented themselves as a definite constructive scheme; and almost all those who now hope for a social change by which the results of modern scientific industry shall be more evenly distributed put their trust in the electoral activity of the working classes. and yet, in the very nations which have most whole-heartedly accepted representative democracy, politicians and political students seem puzzled and disappointed by their experience of it. the united states of america have made in this respect by far the longest and most continuous experiment. their constitution has lasted for a century and a quarter, and, in spite of controversy and even war arising from opposing interpretations of its details, its principles have been, and still are, practically unchallenged. but, as far as an english visitor can judge, no american thinks with satisfaction of the electoral 'machine' whose power alike in federal, state, and municipal politics is still increasing. in england not only has our experience of representative democracy been much shorter than that of america, but our political traditions have tended to delay the full acceptance of the democratic idea even in the working of democratic institutions. yet, allowing for differences of degree and circumstance, one finds in england among the most loyal democrats, if they have been brought into close contact with the details of electoral organisation, something of the same disappointment which has become more articulate in america. i have helped to fight a good many parliamentary contests, and have myself been a candidate in a series of five london municipal elections. in my last election i noticed that two of my canvassers, when talking over the day's work, used independently the phrase, 'it is a queer business.' i have heard much the same words used in england by those professional political agents whose efficiency depends on their seeing electoral facts without illusion. i have no first-hand knowledge of german or italian electioneering, but when a year ago i talked with my hosts of the paris municipal council, i seemed to detect in some of them indications of good-humoured disillusionment with regard to the working of a democratic electoral system. in england and america one has, further, the feeling that it is the growing, and not the decaying, forces of society which create the most disquieting problems. in america the 'machine' takes its worst form in those great new cities whose population and wealth and energy represent the goal towards which the rest of american civilisation is apparently tending. in england, to any one who looks forward, the rampant bribery of the old fishing-ports, or the traditional and respectable corruption of the cathedral cities, seem comparatively small and manageable evils. the more serious grounds for apprehension come from the newest inventions of wealth and enterprise, the up-to-date newspapers, the power and skill of the men who direct huge aggregations of industrial capital, the organised political passions of working men who have passed through the standards of the elementary schools, and who live in hundreds of square miles of new, healthy, indistinguishable suburban streets. every few years some invention in political method is made, and if it succeeds both parties adopt it. in politics, as in football, the tactics which prevail are not those which the makers of the rules intended, but those by which the players find that they can win, and men feel vaguely that the expedients by which their party is most likely to win may turn out not to be those by which a state is best governed. more significant still is the fear, often expressed as new questions force themselves into politics, that the existing electoral system will not bear the strain of an intensified social conflict. many of the arguments used in the discussion of the tariff question in england, or of the concentration of capital in america, or of social--democracy in germany, imply this. popular election, it is said, may work fairly well as long as those questions are not raised which cause the holders of wealth and industrial power to make full use of their opportunities. but if the rich people in any modern state thought it worth their while, in order to secure a tariff, or legalise a trust, or oppose a confiscatory tax, to subscribe a third of their income to a political fund, no corrupt practices act yet invented would prevent them from spending it. if they did so, there is so much skill to be bought, and the art of using skill for the production of emotion and opinion has so advanced, that the whole condition of political contests would be changed for the future. no existing party, unless it enormously increased its own fund or discovered some other new source of political strength, would have any chance of permanent success. the appeal, however, in the name of electoral purity, to protectionists, trust-promoters, and socialists that they should drop their various movements and so confine politics to less exciting questions, falls, naturally enough, on deaf ears. the proposal, again, to extend the franchise to women is met by that sort of hesitation and evasion which is characteristic of politicians who are not sure of their intellectual ground. a candidate who has just been speaking on the principles of democracy finds it, when he is heckled, very difficult to frame an answer which would justify the continued exclusion of women from the franchise. accordingly a large majority of the successful candidates from both the main parties at the general election of pledged themselves to support female suffrage. but, as i write, many, perhaps the majority, of those who gave that pledge seem to be trying to avoid the necessity of carrying it out. there is no reason to suppose that they are men of exceptionally dishonest character, and their fear of the possible effect of a final decision is apparently genuine. they are aware that certain differences exist between men and women, though they do not know what those differences are, nor in what way they are relevant to the question of the franchise. but they are even less steadfast in their doubts than in their pledges, and the question will, in the comparatively near future, probably be settled by importunity on the one side and mere drifting on the other. this half conscious feeling of unsettlement on matters which in our explicit political arguments we treat as settled, is increased by the growing urgency of the problem of race. the fight for democracy in europe and america during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries was carried on by men who were thinking only of the european races. but, during the extension of democracy after , almost all the great powers were engaged in acquiring tropical dependencies, and improvements in the means of communication were bringing all the races of the world into close contact. the ordinary man now finds that the sovereign vote has (with exceptions numerically insignificant) been in fact confined to nations of european origin. but there is nothing in the form or history of the representative principle which seems to justify this, or to suggest any alternative for the vote as a basis of government. nor can he draw any intelligible and consistent conclusion from the practice of democratic states in giving or refusing the vote to their non-european subjects. the united states, for instance, have silently and almost unanimously dropped the experiment of negro suffrage. in that case, owing to the wide intellectual gulf between the west african negro and the white man from north-west europe, the problem was comparatively simple; but no serious attempt has yet been made at a new solution of it, and the americans have been obviously puzzled in dealing with the more subtle racial questions created by the immigration of chinese and japanese and slavs, or by the government of the mixed populations in the philippines. england and her colonies show a like uncertainty in the presence of the political questions raised both by the migration of non-white races and by the acquisition of tropical dependencies. even when we discuss the political future of independent asiatic states we are not clear whether the principle, for instance, of 'no taxation without representation' should be treated as applicable to them. our own position as an asiatic power depends very largely on the development of china and persia, which are inhabited by races who may claim, in some respects, to be our intellectual superiors. when they adopt our systems of engineering, mechanics, or armament we have no doubt that they are doing a good thing for themselves, even though we may fear their commercial or military rivalry. but no follower of bentham is now eager to export for general asiatic use our latest inventions in political machinery. we hear that the persians have established a parliament, and watch the development of their experiment with a complete suspension of judgment as to its probable result. we have helped the japanese to preserve their independence as a constitutional nation, and most englishmen vaguely sympathise with the desire of the chinese progressives both for national independence and internal reform. few of us, however, would be willing to give any definite advice to an individual chinaman who asked whether he ought to throw himself into a movement for a representative parliament on european lines. within our own empire this uncertainty as to the limitations of our political principles may at any moment produce actual disaster. in africa, for instance, the political relationship between the european inhabitants of our territories and the non-european majority of kaffirs, negroes, hindoos, copts, or arabs is regulated on entirely different lines in natal, basutoland, egypt, or east africa. in each case the constitutional difference is due not so much to the character of the local problem as to historical accident, and trouble may break out anywhere and at any time, either from the aggression of the europeans upon the rights reserved by the home government to the non-europeans, or from a revolt of the non-europeans themselves. blacks and whites are equally irritated by the knowledge that there is one law in nairobi and another in durban. this position is, of course, most dangerous in the case of india. for two or three generations the ordinary english liberal postponed any decision on indian politics, because he believed that we were educating the inhabitants for self-government, and that in due time they would all have a vote for an indian parliament. now he is becoming aware that there are many races in india, and that some of the most important differences between those races among themselves, and between any of them and ourselves, are not such as can be obliterated by education. he is told by men whom he respects that this fact makes it certain that the representative system which is suitable for england will never be suitable for india, and therefore he remains uneasily responsible for the permanent autocratic government of three hundred million people, remembering from time to time that some of those people or their neighbours may have much more definite political ideas than his own, and that he ultimately may have to fight for a power which he hardly desires to retain. meanwhile, the existence of the indian problem loosens half-consciously his grip upon democratic principle in matters nearer home. newspapers and magazines and steamships are constantly making india more real to him, and the conviction of a liberal that polish immigrants or london 'latch-key' lodgers ought to have a vote is less decided than it would have been if he had not acquiesced in the decision that rajputs, and bengalis, and parsees should be refused it. practical politicians cannot, it is true, be expected to stop in the middle of a campaign merely because they have an uncomfortable feeling that the rules of the game require re-stating and possibly re-casting. but the winning or losing of elections does not exhaust the whole political duty of a nation, and perhaps there never has been a time in which the disinterested examination of political principles has been more urgently required. hitherto the main stimulus to political speculation has been provided by wars and revolutions, by the fight of the greek states against the persians, and their disastrous struggle for supremacy among themselves, or by the wars of religion in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the american and french revolutions in the eighteenth century. the outstanding social events in europe in our own time have, however, been so far the failures rather than the successes of great movements; the apparent wasting of devotion and courage in russia, owing to the deep-seated intellectual divisions among the reformers, and the military advantage which modern weapons and means of communication give to any government however tyrannous and corrupt; the baffling of the german social-democrats by the forces of religion and patriotism and by the infertility of their own creed; the weakness of the successive waves of american democracy when faced by the political power of capital. but failure and bewilderment may present as stern a demand for thought as the most successful revolution, and, in many respects, that demand is now being well answered. political experience is recorded and examined with a thoroughness hitherto unknown. the history of political action in the past, instead of being left to isolated scholars, has become the subject of organised and minutely subdivided labour. the new political developments of the present, australian federation, the referendum in switzerland, german public finance, the party system in england and america, and innumerable others, are constantly recorded, discussed and compared in the monographs and technical magazines which circulate through all the universities of the globe. the only form of study which a political thinker of one or two hundred years ago would now note as missing is any attempt to deal with politics in its relation to the nature of man. the thinkers of the past, from plato to bentham and mill, had each his own view of human nature, and they made those views the basis of their speculations on government. but no modern treatise on political science, whether dealing with institutions or finance, now begins with anything corresponding to the opening words of bentham's _principles of morals and legislation_--'nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure'; or to the 'first general proposition' of nassau senior's _political economy,_ 'every man desires to obtain additional wealth with as little sacrifice as possible.'[ ] in most cases one cannot even discover whether the writer is conscious of possessing any conception of human nature at all. [ ] _political, economy_ (in the _encyclopedia metropolitana_), nd edition ( ), p. . it is easy to understand how this has come about. political science is just beginning to regain some measure of authority after the acknowledged failure of its confident professions during the first half of the nineteenth century. bentham's utilitarianism, after superseding both natural right and the blind tradition of the lawyers, and serving as the basis of innumerable legal and constitutional reforms throughout europe, was killed by the unanswerable refusal of the plain man to believe that ideas of pleasure and pain are the only sources of human motive. the 'classical' political economy of the universities and the newspapers, the political economy of macculloch and senior and archbishop whately, was even more unfortunate in its attempt to deduce a whole industrial polity from a 'few simple principles' of human nature. it became identified with the shallow dogmatism by which well-to-do people in the first half of queen victoria's reign tried to convince working men that any change in the distribution of the good things of life was 'scientifically impossible.' marx and buskin and carlyle were masters of sarcasm, and the process is not yet forgotten by which they slowly compelled even the newspapers to abandon the 'laws of political economy' which from to stood, like gigantic stuffed policemen, on guard over rent and profits. when the struggle against 'political economy' was at its height, darwin's _origin of species_ revealed a universe in which the 'few simple principles' seemed a little absurd, and nothing has hitherto taken their place. mr. herbert spencer, indeed, attempted to turn a single hasty generalisation from the history of biological evolution into a complete social philosophy of his own, and preached a 'beneficent private war'[ ] which he conceived as exactly equivalent to that degree of trade competition which prevailed among english provincial shopkeepers about the year . mr. spencer failed to secure even the whole-hearted support of the newspapers; but in so far as his system gained currency it helped further to discredit any attempt to connect political science with the study of human nature. [ ] _man versus the state_, p. . 'the beneficent private war which makes one man strive to climb over the shoulders of another man.' for the moment, therefore, nearly all students of politics analyse institutions and avoid the analysis of man. the study of human nature by the psychologists has, it is true, advanced enormously since the discovery of human evolution, but it has advanced without affecting or being affected by the study of politics. modern text-books of psychology are illustrated with innumerable facts from the home, the school, the hospital, and the psychological laboratory; but in them politics are hardly ever mentioned. the professors of the new science of sociology are beginning, it is true, to deal with human nature in its relation not only to the family and to religion and industry, but also to certain political institutions. sociology, however, has had, as yet, little influence on political science. i believe myself that this tendency to separate the study of politics from that of human nature will prove to be only a momentary phase of thought, that while it lasts its effects, both on the science and the conduct of politics, are likely to be harmful, and that there are already signs that it is coming to an end. it is sometimes pleaded that, if thorough work is to be done, there must, in the moral as in the physical sciences, be division of labour. but this particular division cannot, in fact, be kept up. the student of politics must, consciously or unconsciously, form a conception of human nature, and the less conscious he is of his conception the more likely he is to be dominated by it. if he has had wide personal experience of political life his unconscious assumptions may be helpful; if he has not they are certain to be misleading. mr. roosevelt's little book of essays on _american ideals_ is, for instance, useful, because when he thinks about mankind in politics, he thinks about the politicians whom he has known. after reading it one feels that many of the more systematic books on politics by american university professors are useless, just because the writers dealt with abstract men, formed on assumptions of which they were unaware and which they had never tested either by experience or by study. in the other sciences which deal with human actions, this division between the study of the thing done and the study of the being who does it is not found. in criminology beccaria and bentham long ago showed how dangerous that jurisprudence was which separated the classification of crimes from the study of the criminal. the conceptions of human nature which they held have been superseded by evolutionary psychology, but modern thinkers like lombroso have brought the new psychology into the service of a new and fruitful criminology. in pedagogy also, locke, and rousseau, and herbart, and the many-sided bentham, based their theories of education upon their conceptions of human nature. those conceptions were the same as those which underlay their political theories, and have been affected in the same way by modern knowledge. for a short time it even looked, as if the lecturers in the english training colleges would make the same separation between the study of human institutions and human nature as has been made in politics. lectures on school method were distinguished during this period from those on the theory of education. the first became mere descriptions and comparisons of the organisation and teaching in the best schools. the second consisted of expositions, with occasional comment and criticism of such classical writers as comenius, or locke, or rousseau; and were curiously like those informal talks on aristotle, hobbes, locke, and rousseau, which, under the name of the theory of politics, formed in my time such a pleasant interlude in the oxford course of humaner letters. but while the oxford lecture-courses still, i believe, survive almost unchanged, the training college lectures on the theory of education are beginning to show signs of a change as great as that which took place in the training of medical students, when the lecturers on anatomy, instead of expounding the classical authorities, began to give, on their own responsibility, the best account of the facts of human structure of which they were capable. the reason for this difference is, apparently, the fact that while oxford lecturers on the theory of politics are not often politicians, the training college lecturers on the theory of teaching have always been teachers, to whom the question whether any new knowledge could be made useful in their art was one of living and urgent importance. one finds accordingly that under the leadership of men like professors william james, lloyd morgan, and stanley hall, a progressive science of teaching is being developed, which combines the study of types of school organisation and method with a determined attempt to learn from special experiments, from introspection, and from other sciences, what manner of thing a child is. modern pedagogy, based on modern psychology, is already influencing the schools whose teachers are trained for their profession. its body of facts is being yearly added to; it has already caused the abandonment of much dreary waste of time; has given many thousands of teachers a new outlook on their work, and has increased the learning and happiness of many tens of thousands of children. this essay of mine is offered as a plea that a corresponding change in the conditions of political science is possible. in the great university whose constituent colleges are the universities of the world, there is a steadily growing body of professors and students of politics who give the whole day to their work. i cannot but think that as years go on, more of them will call to their aid that study of mankind which is the ancient ally of the moral sciences. within every great city there are groups of men and women who are brought together in the evenings by the desire to find something more satisfying than current political controversy. they have their own unofficial leaders and teachers, and among these one can already detect an impatience with the alternative offered, either of working by the bare comparison of existing institutions, or of discussing the fitness of socialism or individualism, of democracy or aristocracy for human beings whose nature is taken for granted. if my book is read by any of those official or unofficial thinkers, i would urge that the study of human nature in politics, if ever it comes to be undertaken by the united and organised efforts of hundreds of learned men, may not only deepen and widen our knowledge of political institutions, but open an unworked mine of political invention. part i _the conditions of the problem_ chapter i impulse and instinct in politics whoever sets himself to base his political thinking on a re-examination of the working of human nature, must begin by trying to overcome his own tendency to exaggerate the intellectuality of mankind. we are apt to assume that every human action is the result of an intellectual process, by which a man first thinks of some end which he desires, and then calculates the means by which that end can be attained. an investor, for instance, desires good security combined with five per cent interest. he spends an hour in studying with an open mind the price-list of stocks, and finally infers that the purchase of brewery debentures will enable him most completely to realise his desire. given the original desire for good security, his act in purchasing the debentures appears to be the inevitable result of his inference. the desire for good security itself may further appear to be merely an intellectual inference as to the means of satisfying some more general desire, shared by all mankind, for 'happiness,' our own 'interest,' or the like. the satisfaction of this general desire can then be treated as the supreme 'end' of life, from which all our acts and impulses, great and small, are derived by the same intellectual process as that by which the conclusion is derived from the premises of an argument. this way of thinking is sometimes called 'common sense.' a good example of its application to politics may be found in a sentence from macaulay's celebrated attack on the utilitarian followers of bentham in the _edinburgh review_ of march . this extreme instance of the foundation of politics upon dogmatic psychology is, curiously enough, part of an argument intended to show that 'it is utterly impossible to deduce the science of government from the principles of human nature.' 'what proposition,' macaulay asks, 'is there respecting human nature which is absolutely and universally true? we know of only one: and that is not only true, but identical; that men always act from self-interest.... _when we see the actions of a man, we know with certainty what he thinks his interest to be_.'[ ] macaulay believes himself to be opposing benthamism root and branch, but is unconsciously adopting and exaggerating the assumption which bentham shared with most of the other eighteenth and early nineteenth century philosophers--that all motives result from the idea of some preconceived end. [ ] _edinburgh review_, march , p. . (the italics are mine.) if he had been pressed, macaulay would probably have admitted that there are cases in which human acts and impulses to act occur independently of any idea of an end to be gained by them. if i have a piece of grit in my eye and ask some one to take it out with the corner of his handkerchief, i generally close the eye as soon as the handkerchief comes near, and always feel a strong impulse to do so. nobody supposes that i close my eye because, after due consideration, i think it my interest to do so. nor do most men choose to run away in battle, to fall in love, or to talk about the weather in order to satisfy their desire for a preconceived end. if, indeed, a man were followed through one ordinary day, without his knowing it, by a cinematographic camera and a phonograph, and if all his acts and sayings were reproduced before him next day, he would be astonished to find how few of them were the result of a deliberate search for the means of attaining ends. he would, of course, see that much of his activity consisted in the half-conscious repetition, under the influence of habit, of movements which were originally more fully conscious. but even if all cases of habit were excluded he would find that only a small proportion of the residue could be explained as being directly produced by an intellectual calculation. if a record were also kept of those of his impulses and emotions which did not result in action, it would be seen that they were of the same kind as those which did, and that very few of them were preceded by that process which macaulay takes for granted. if macaulay had been pressed still further, he would probably have admitted that even when an act is preceded by a calculation of ends and means, it is not the inevitable result of that calculation. even when we know what a man thinks it his interest to do, we do not know for certain what he will do. the man who studies the stock exchange list does not buy his debentures, unless, apart from his intellectual inference on the subject, he has an impulse to write to his stockbroker sufficiently strong to overcome another impulse to put the whole thing off till the next day. macaulay might even further have admitted that the mental act of calculation itself results from, or is accompanied by, an impulse to calculate, which impulse may have nothing to do with any anterior consideration of means and ends, and may vary from the half-conscious yielding to a train of reverie up to the obstinate driving of a tired brain onto the difficult task of exact thought. the text-books of psychology now warn every student against the 'intellectualist' fallacy which is illustrated by my quotation from macaulay. impulse, it is now agreed, has an evolutionary history of its own earlier than the history of those intellectual processes by which it is often directed and modified. our inherited organisation inclines us to re-act in certain ways to certain stimuli because such reactions have been useful in the past in preserving our species. some of the reactions are what we call specifically 'instincts,' that is to say, impulses towards definite acts or series of acts, independent of any conscious anticipation of their probable effects.[ ] those instincts are sometimes unconscious and involuntary; and sometimes, in the case of ourselves and apparently of other higher animals, they are conscious and voluntary. but the connection between means and ends which they exhibit is the result not of any contrivance by the actor, but of the survival, in the past, of the 'fittest' of many varying tendencies to act. indeed the instinct persists when it is obviously useless, as in the case of a dog who turns round to flatten the grass before lying down on a carpet; and even when it is known to be dangerous, as when a man recovering from typhoid hungers for solid food. [ ] 'instinct is usually defined as the faculty of acting in such a way as to produce certain ends without foresight of the ends and without previous education in the performance.'--w. james, _principles of psychology_, vol. ii. p. . the fact that impulse is not always the result of conscious foresight is most clearly seen in the case of children. the first impulses of a baby to suck, or to grasp, are obviously 'instinctive.' but even when the unconscious or unremembered condition of infancy has been succeeded by the connected consciousness of childhood, the child will fly to his mother and hide his face in her skirts when he sees a harmless stranger. later on he will torture small beasts and run away from big beasts, or steal fruit, or climb trees, though no one has suggested such actions to him, and though he may expect disagreeable results from them. we generally think of 'instinct' as consisting of a number of such separate tendencies, each towards some distinct act or series of acts. but there is no reason to suppose that the whole body of inherited impulse even among non-human animals has ever been divisible in that way. the evolutionary history of impulse must have been very complicated. an impulse which survived because it produced one result may have persisted with modifications because it produced another result; and side by side with impulses towards specific acts we can detect in all animals vague and generalised tendencies, often overlapping and contradictory, like curiosity and shyness, sympathy and cruelty, imitation and restless activity. it is possible, therefore, to avoid the ingenious dilemma by which mr. balfour argues that we must either demonstrate that the desire, _e.g._ for scientific truth, is lineally descended from some one of the specific instincts which teach us 'to fight, to eat, and to bring up children,' or must admit the supernatural authority of the shorter catechism.[ ] [ ] _reflections suggested by the new theory of matter_, , p. . 'so far as natural science can tell us, every quality of sense or intellect which does _not_ help us to fight, to eat, and to bring up children, is but a by-product of the qualities which do.' the pre-rational character of many of our impulses is, however, disguised by the fact that during the lifetime of each individual they are increasingly modified by memory and habit and thought. even the non-human animals are able to adapt and modify their inherited impulses either by imitation or by habits founded on individual experience. when telegraph wires, for instance, were first put up many birds flew against them and were killed. but although the number of those that were killed was obviously insufficient to produce a change in the biological inheritance of the species, very few birds fly against the wires now. the young birds must have imitated their elders, who had learnt to avoid the wires; just as the young of many hunting animals are said to learn devices and precautions which are the result of their parents' experience, and later to make and hand down by imitation inventions of their own. many of the directly inherited impulses, again, appear both in man and other animals at a certain point in the growth of the individual, and then, if they are checked, die away, or, if they are unchecked, form habits; and impulses, which were originally strong and useful, may no longer help in preserving life, and may, like the whale's legs or our teeth and hair, be weakened by biological degeneration. such temporary or weakened impulses are especially liable to be transferred to new objects, or to be modified by experience and thought. with all these complicated facts the schoolmaster has to deal. in macaulay's time he used to be guided by his 'common-sense,' and to intellectualise the whole process. the unfortunate boys who acted upon an ancient impulse to fidget, to play truant, to chase cats, or to mimic their teacher, were asked, with repeated threats of punishment,'why' they had done so. they, being ignorant of their own evolutionary history, were forced to invent some far-fetched lie, and were punished for that as well. the trained schoolmaster of to-day takes the existence of such impulses as a normal fact; and decides how far, in each case, he shall check them by relying on that half-conscious imitation which makes the greater part of class-room discipline, and how far by stimulating a conscious recognition of the connection, ethical or penal, between acts and their consequences. in any case his power of controlling instinctive impulse is due to his recognition of its non-intellectual origin. he may even be able to extend this recognition to his own impulses, and to overcome the conviction that his irritability during afternoon school in july is the result of an intellectual conclusion as to the need of special severity in dealing with a set of unprecedentedly wicked boys. the politician, however, is still apt to intellectualise impulse as completely as the schoolmaster did fifty years ago. he has two excuses, that he deals entirely with adults, whose impulses are more deeply modified by experience and thought than those of children, and that it is very difficult for any one who thinks about politics not to confine his consideration to those political actions and impulses which are accompanied by the greatest amount of conscious thought, and which therefore come first into his mind. but the politician thinks about men in large communities, and it is in the forecasting of the action of large communities that the intellectualist fallacy is most misleading. the results of experience and thought are often confined to individuals or small groups, and when they differ may cancel each other as political forces. the original human impulses are, with personal variations, common to the whole race, and increase in their importance with an increase in the number of those influenced by them. it may be worth while, therefore, to attempt a description of some of the more obvious or more important political impulses, remembering always that in politics we are dealing not with such clear-cut separate instincts as we may find in children and animals, but with tendencies often weakened by the course of human evolution, still more often transferred to new uses, and acting not simply but in combination or counteraction. aristotle, for instance, says that it is 'affection' (or 'friendship,' for the meaning of [greek: philía] stands half way between the two words) which 'makes political union possible,' and 'which law-givers consider more important than justice.' it is, he says, a hereditary instinct among animals of the same race, and particularly among men.[ ] if we look for this political affection in its simplest form, we see it in our impulse to feel 'kindly' towards any other human being of whose existence and personality we become vividly aware. this impulse can be checked and overlaid by others, but any one can test its existence and its prerationality in his own case by going, for instance, to the british museum and watching the effect on his feelings of the discovery that a little egyptian girl baby who died four thousand years ago rubbed the toes of her shoes by crawling upon the floor. [ ] _ethics_, bk. viii. chap. i. [greek: phýsei t' enypárchein éoike ... ou pónon en anthrôpois allà kaì en órnisi kaì tois pleístois tôn zôôn, kaì tois homoethnési pròs állêla, kaì málista tois anthrôpois ... éoike dè kaì tàs póleis synéchein hê philía, kaì hoi nomothétai mallon perì autên spoudázein ê tên dikaiosýnên]. the tactics of an election consist largely of contrivances by which this immediate emotion of personal affection may be set up. the candidate is advised to 'show himself continually, to give away prizes, to 'say a few words' at the end of other people's speeches--all under circumstances which offer little or no opportunity for the formation of a reasoned opinion of his merits, but many opportunities for the rise of a purely instinctive affection among those present. his portrait is periodically distributed, and is more effective if it is a good, that is to say, a distinctive, than if it is a flattering likeness. best of all is a photograph which brings his ordinary existence sharply forward by representing him in his garden smoking a pipe or reading a newspaper. a simple-minded supporter whose affection has been so worked up will probably try to give an intellectual explanation of it. he will say that the man, of whom he may know really nothing except that he was photographed in a panama hat with a fox-terrier, is 'the kind of man we want,' and that therefore he has decided to support him; just as a child will say that he loves his mother because she is the best mother in the world,[ ] or a man in love will give an elaborate explanation of his perfectly normal feelings, which he describes as an intellectual inference from alleged abnormal excellences in his beloved. the candidate naturally intellectualises in the same way. one of the most perfectly modest men i know once told me that he was 'going round' a good deal among his future constituents 'to let them see what a good fellow i am.' unless, indeed, the process can be intellectualised, it is for many men unintelligible. [ ] a rather unusually reflective little girl of my acquaintance, felt, one day, while looking at her mother, a strong impulse of affection. she first gave the usual intellectual explanation of her feeling, 'mummy, i do think you are the most beautiful mummy in the whole world,' and then, after a moment's thought, corrected herself by saying, 'but there, they do say love is blind.' a monarch is a life-long candidate, and there exists a singularly elaborate traditional art of producing personal affection for him. it is more important that he should be seen than that he should speak or act. his portrait appears on every coin and stamp, and apart from any question of personal beauty, produces most effect when it is a good likeness. any one, for instance, who can clearly recall his own emotions during the later years of queen victoria's reign, will remember a measurable increase of his affection for her, when, in , a thoroughly life-like portrait took the place on the coins of the conventional head of - , and the awkward compromise of the first jubilee year. in the case of monarchy one can also watch the intellectualisation of the whole process by the newspapers, the official biographers, the courtiers, and possibly the monarch himself. the daily bulletin of details as to his walks and drives is, in reality, the more likely to create a vivid impression of his personality, and therefore to produce this particular kind of emotion, the more ordinary the events described are in themselves. but since an emotion arising out of ordinary events is difficult to explain on a purely intellectual basis, these events are written about as revealing a life of extraordinary regularity and industry. when the affection is formed it is even sometimes described as an inevitable reasoned conclusion arising from reflection upon a reign during which there have been an unusual number of good harvests or great inventions. sometimes the impulse of affection is excited to a point at which its non-rational character becomes obvious. george the third was beloved by the english people because they realised intensely that, like themselves, he had been born in england, and because the published facts of his daily life came home to them. fanny burney describes, therefore, how when, during an attack of madness, he was to be taken in a coach to kew, the doctors who were to accompany him were seriously afraid that the inhabitants of any village who saw that the king was under restraint would attack them.[ ] the kindred emotion of personal and dynastic loyalty (whose origin is possibly to be found in the fact that the loosely organised companies of our prehuman ancestors could not defend themselves from their carnivorous enemies until the general instinct of affection was specialised into a vehement impulse to follow and protect their leader), has again and again produced destructive and utterly useless civil wars. [ ] _diary of madame d'arblay_, ed. , vol. iv. p. , 'if they even attempted force, they had not a doubt but his smallest resistance would call up the whole country to his fancied rescue.' fear often accompanies and, in politics, is confused with affection. a man, whose life's dream it has been to get sight and speech of his king, is accidentally brought face to face with him. he is 'rooted to the spot,' becomes pale, and is unable to speak, because a movement might have betrayed his ancestors to a lion or a bear, or earlier still, to a hungry cuttlefish. it would be an interesting experiment if some professor of experimental psychology would arrange his class in the laboratory with sphygmographs on their wrists ready to record those pulse movements which accompany the sensation of 'thrill,' and would then introduce into the room without notice, and in chance order, a bishop, a well-known general, the greatest living man of letters, and a minor member of the royal family. the resulting records of immediate pulse disturbances would be of real scientific importance, and it might even be possible to continue the record in each case say, for a quarter of a minute, and to trace the secondary effects of variations in political opinions, education, or the sense of humour among the students. at present almost the only really scientific observation on the subject from its political side is contained in lord palmerston's protest against a purely intellectual account of aristocracy: 'there is no damned nonsense about merit,' he said, 'in the case of the garter.' makers of new aristocracies are still, however, apt to intellectualise. the french government, for instance, have created an order, 'pour le mérite agricole,' which ought, on the basis of mere logic, to be very successful; but one is told that the green ribbon of that order produces in france no thrill whatever. the impulse to laugh is comparatively unimportant in politics, but it affords a good instance of the way in which a practical politician has to allow for pre-rational impulse. it is apparently an immediate effect of the recognition of the incongruous, just as trembling is of the recognition of danger. it may have been evolved because an animal which suffered a slight spasm in the presence of the unexpected was more likely to be on its guard against enemies, or it may have been the merely accidental result of some fact in our nervous organisation which was otherwise useful. incongruity is, however, so much a matter of habit and association and individual variation, that it is extraordinarily difficult to forecast whether any particular act will seem ridiculous to any particular class, or how long the sense of incongruity will in any case persist. acts, for instance, which aim at producing exalted emotional effect among ordinary slow-witted people--burke's dagger, louis napoleon's tame eagle, the german kaiser's telegrams about huns and mailed fists--may do so, and therefore be in the end politically successful, although they produce spontaneous laughter in men whose conception of good political manners is based upon the idea of self-restraint. again, almost the whole of the economic question between socialism and individualism turns on the nature and limitations of the desire for property. there seem to be good grounds for supposing that this is a true specific instinct, and not merely the result of habit or of the intellectual choice of means for satisfying the desire of power. children, for instance, quarrel furiously at a very early age over apparently worthless things, and collect and hide them long before they can have any clear notion of the advantages to be derived from individual possession. those children who in certain charity schools are brought up entirely without personal property, even in their clothes or pocket-handkerchiefs, show every sign of the bad effect on health and character which results from complete inability to satisfy a strong inherited instinct. the evolutionary origin of the desire for property is indicated also by many of the habits of dogs or squirrels or magpies. some economist ought therefore to give us a treatise in which this property instinct is carefully and quantitatively examined. is it, like the hunting instinct, an impulse which dies away if it is not indulged? how far can it be eliminated or modified by education? is it satisfied by a leasehold or a life-interest, or by such an arrangement of corporate property as is offered by a collegiate foundation, or by the provision of a public park? does it require for its satisfaction material and visible things such as land or houses, or is the holding, say, of colonial railway shares sufficient? is the absence of unlimited proprietary rights felt more strongly in the case of personal chattels (such as furniture and ornaments) than in the case of land or machinery? does the degree and direction of the instinct markedly differ among different individuals or races, or between the two sexes? pending such an inquiry my own provisional opinion is that, like a good many instincts of very early evolutionary origin, it can be satisfied by an avowed pretence; just as a kitten which is fed regularly on milk can be kept in good health if it is allowed to indulge its hunting instinct by playing with a bobbin, and a peaceful civil servant satisfies his instinct of combat and adventure at golf. if this is so, and if it is considered for other reasons undesirable to satisfy the property instinct by the possession, say, of slaves or of freehold land, one supposes that a good deal of the feeling of property may in the future be enjoyed even by persons in whom the instinct is abnormally strong, through the collection of shells or of picture postcards. the property instinct is, it happens, one of two instances in which the classical economists deserted their usual habit of treating all desires as the result of a calculation of the means of obtaining 'utility' or 'wealth.' the satisfaction of the instinct of absolute property by peasant proprietorship turned, they said, 'sand to gold,' although it required a larger expenditure of labour for every unit of income than was the case in salaried employment. the other instance was the instinct of family affection. this also still needs a special treatise on its stimulus, variation, and limitations. but the classical economists treated it as absolute and unvarying. the 'economic man,' who had no more concern than a lone wolf with the rest of the human species, was treated as possessing a perfect and permanent solidarity of feeling with his 'family.' the family was apparently assumed as consisting of those persons for whose support a man in western europe is legally responsible, and no attempt was made to estimate whether the instinct extended in any degree to cousins or great uncles. a treatise on political impulses which aimed at completeness would further include at least the fighting instinct (with the part which it plays, together with affection and loyalty, in the formation of parties), and the instincts of suspicion, curiosity, and the desire to excel. all these primary impulses are greatly increased in immediate effectiveness when they are 'pure,' that is to say, unaccompanied by competing or opposing impulses; and this is the main reason why art, which aims at producing one emotion at a time, acts on most men so much more easily than does the more varied appeal of real life. i once sat in a suburban theatre among a number of colonial troopers who had come over from south africa for the king's coronation. the play was 'our boys,' and between the acts my next neighbour gave me, without any sign of emotion, a hideous account of the scene at tweefontein after de wet had rushed the british camp on the christmas morning of --the militiamen slaughtered while drunk, and the kaffir drivers tied to the blazing waggons. the curtain rose again, and, five minutes later, i saw that he was weeping in sympathy with the stage misfortunes of two able-bodied young men who had to eat 'inferior dorset' butter. my sympathy with the militiamen and the kaffirs was 'pure,' whereas his was overlaid with remembered race-hatred, battle-fury, and contempt for british incompetence. his sympathy, on the other hand, with the stage characters was not accompanied, as mine was, by critical feelings about theatrical conventions, indifferent acting, and middle-victorian sentiment. it is this greater immediate effect of pure and artificial as compared with mixed and concrete emotion which explains the traditional maxim of political agents that it is better that a candidate should not live in his constituency. it is an advantage that he should be able to represent himself as a 'local candidate,' but his local character should be _ad hoc_, and should consist in the hiring of a large house each year in which he lives a life of carefully dramatised hospitality. things in no way blameworthy in themselves--his choice of tradesmen, his childrens' hats and measles, his difficulties with his relations--will be, if he is a permanent resident, 'out of the picture,' and may confuse the impression which he produces. if one could, by the help of a time-machine, see for a moment in the flesh the little egyptian girl who wore out her shoes, one might find her behaving so charmingly that one's pity for her death would be increased. but it is more probable that, even if she was, in fact, a very nice little girl, one would not. this greater immediate facility of the emotions set up by artistic presentment, as compared with those resulting from concrete observation has, however, to be studied in its relation to another fact--that impulses vary, in their driving force and in the depth of the nervous disturbance which they cause, in proportion, not to their importance in our present life, but to the point at which they appeared in our evolutionary past. we are quite unable to resist the impulse of mere vascular and nervous reaction, the watering of the mouth, the jerk of the limb, the closing of the eye which we share with some of the simplest vertebrates. we can only with difficulty resist the instincts of sex and food, of anger and fear, which we share with the higher animals. it is, on the other hand, difficult for us to obey consistently the impulses which attend on the mental images formed by inference and association. a man may be convinced by a long train of cogent reasoning that he will go to hell if he visits a certain house; and yet he will do so in satisfaction of a half conscious craving, whose existence he is ashamed to recognise. it may be that when a preacher makes hell real to him by physical images of fire and torment his conviction will acquire coercive force. but that force may soon die away as his memory fades, and even the most vivid description has little effect as compared with a touch of actual pain. at the theatre, because pure emotion is facile, three-quarters of the audience may cry, but because second-hand emotion is shallow, very few of them will be unable to sleep when they get home, or will even lose their appetite for a late supper. my south african trooper probably recovered from his tears over 'our boys' as soon as they were shed. the transient and pleasurable quality of the tragic emotions produced by novel reading is well known. a man may weep over a novel which he will forget in two or three hours, although the same man may be made insane, or may have his character changed for life, by actual experiences which are far less terrible than those of which he reads, experiences which at the moment may produce neither tears nor any other obvious nervous effect. both those facts are of first-rate political importance in those great modern communities in which all the events which stimulate political action reach the voters through newspapers. the emotional appeal of journalism, even more than that of the stage, is facile because it is pure, and transitory because it is second-hand. battles and famines, murders and the evidence of inquiries into destitution, all are presented by the journalist in literary form, with a careful selection of 'telling' detail. their effect is therefore produced at once, in the half-hour that follows the middle-class breakfast, or in the longer interval on the sunday morning when the workman reads his weekly paper. but when the paper has been read the emotional effect fades rapidly away. any candidate at an election feels for this reason the strangeness of the conditions under which what professor james calls the 'pungent sense of effective reality,'[ ] reaches or fails to reach, mankind, in a civilisation based upon newspapers. i was walking along the street during my last election, thinking of the actual issues involved, and comparing them with the vague fog of journalistic phrases, the half-conscious impulses of old habit and new suspicion which make up the atmosphere of electioneering. i came round a street corner upon a boy of about fifteen returning from work, whose whole face lit up with genuine and lively interest as soon as he saw me. i stopped, and he said: 'i know you, mr. wallas, you put the medals on me.' all that day political principles and arguments had refused to become real to my constituents, but the emotion excited by the bodily fact that i had at a school ceremony pinned a medal for good attendance on a boy's coat, had all the pungency of a first-hand experience. [ ] 'the moral tragedy of human life comes almost wholly from the fact that the link is ruptured which normally should hold between vision of the truth and action, and that this pungent sense of effective reality will not attach to certain ideas.' w. james, _principles of psychology_, vol. ii. p. . throughout the contest the candidate is made aware, at every point, of the enormously greater solidity for most men of the work-a-day world which they see for themselves, as compared with the world of inference and secondary ideas which they see through the newspapers. a london county councillor, for instance, as his election comes near, and he begins to withdraw from the daily business of administrative committees into the cloud of the electoral campaign, finds that the officials whom he leaves behind, with their daily stint of work, and their hopes and fears about their salaries, seem to him much more real than himself. the old woman at her door in a mean street who refuses to believe that he is not being paid for canvassing, the prosperous and good-natured tradesman who says quite simply,' i expect you find politics rather an expensive amusement,' all seem to stand with their feet upon the ground. however often he assures himself that the great realities are on his side, and that the busy people round him are concerned only with fleeting appearances, yet the feeling constantly recurs to him that it is he himself who is living in a world of shadows. this feeling is increased by the fact that a candidate has constantly to repeat the same arguments, and to stimulate in himself the same emotions, and that mere repetition produces a distressing sense of unreality. the preachers who have to repeat every sunday the same gospel, find also that 'dry times' alternate with times of exaltation. even among the voters the repetition of the same political thoughts is apt to produce weariness. the main cause of the recurring swing of the electoral pendulum seems to be that opinions which have been held with enthusiasm become after a year or two stale and flat, and that the new opinions seem fresh and vivid. a treatise is indeed required from some trained psychologist on the conditions under which our nervous system shows itself intolerant of repeated sensations and emotions. the fact is obviously connected with the purely physiological causes which produce giddiness, tickling, sea-sickness, etc. but many things that are 'natural,' that is to say, which we have constantly experienced during any considerable part of the ages during which our nervous organisation was being developed, apparently do not so affect us. our heartbeats, the taste of water, the rising and setting of the sun, or, in the case of a child, milk, or the presence of its mother, or of its brothers, do not seem to become, in sound health, distressingly monotonous. but 'artificial' things, however pleasant at first--a tune on the piano, the pattern of a garment, the greeting of an acquaintance--are likely to become unbearable if often exactly repeated. a newspaper is an artificial thing in this sense, and one of the arts of the newspaper-writer consists in presenting his views with that kind of repetition which, like the phrases of a fugue, constantly approaches, but never oversteps the limit of monotony. advertisers again are now discovering that it pays to vary the monotony with which a poster appeals to the eye by printing in different colours those copies which are to hang near each other, or still better, by representing varied incidents in the career of 'sunny jim' or 'sunlight sue.' a candidate is also an artificial thing. if he lives and works in his constituency, the daily vision of an otherwise admirable business man seated in a first-class carriage on the . a.m. train in the same attitude and reading the same newspaper may produce a slight and unrecognised feeling of discomfort among his constituents, although it would cause no such feeling in the wife whose relation to him is 'natural.' for the same reason when his election comes on, although he may declare himself to be the 'old member standing on the old platform,' he should be careful to avoid monotony by slightly varying his portrait, the form of his address, and the details of his declaration of political faith. another fact, closely connected with our intolerance of repeated emotional adjustment, is the desire for privacy, sufficiently marked to approach the character of a specific instinct, and balanced by a corresponding and opposing dread of loneliness. our ancestors in the ages during which our present nervous system became fixed, lived, apparently, in loosely organised family groups, associated for certain occasional purposes, into larger, but still more loosely organised, tribal groups. no one slept alone, for the more or less monogamic family assembled nightly in a cave or 'lean-to' shelter. the hunt for food which filled the day was carried on, one supposes, neither in complete solitude nor in constant intercourse. even if the female were left at home with the young, the male exchanged some dozen times a day rough greetings with acquaintances, or joined in a common task. occasionally, even before the full development of language, excited palavers attended by some hundreds would take place, or opposing tribes would gather for a fight. it is still extremely difficult for the normal man to endure either much less or much more than this amount of intercourse with his fellows. however safe they may know themselves to be, most men find it difficult to sleep in an empty house, and would be distressed by anything beyond three days of absolute solitude. even habit cannot do much in this respect. a man required to submit to gradually increasing periods of solitary confinement would probably go mad as soon as he had been kept for a year without a break. a settler, though he may be the son of a settler, and may have known no other way of living, can hardly endure existence unless his daily intercourse with his family is supplemented by a weekly chat with a neighbour or a stranger; and he will go long and dangerous journeys in order once a year to enjoy the noise and bustle of a crowd. but, on the other hand, the nervous system of most men will not tolerate the frequent repetition of that adjustment of the mind and sympathies to new acquaintanceship, a certain amount of which is so refreshing and so necessary. one can therefore watch in great modern cities men half consciously striving to preserve the same proportion between privacy and intercourse which prevailed among their ancestors in the woods, and one can watch also the constant appearance of proposals or experiments which altogether ignore the primary facts of human nature in this respect. the habitual intellectualism of the writers of political utopias prevents them from seeing any 'reason' why men should not find happiness as well as economy in a sort of huge extension of family life. the writer himself at his moments of greatest imaginative exaltation does not perhaps realise the need of privacy at all. his affections are in a state of expansion which, without fancifulness, one may refer back to the emotional atmosphere prevalent in the screaming assemblies of his prehuman ancestors; and he is ready, so long as this condition lasts, to take the whole world almost literally to his bosom. what he does not realise is that neither he nor any one else can keep himself permanently at this level. in william morris's _news from nowhere_ the customs of family life extend to the streets, and the tired student from the british museum talks with easy intimacy to the thirsty dustman. i remember reading an article written about by one of the early christian socialists. he said that he had just been riding down oxford street in an omnibus, and that he had noticed that when the omnibus passed over a section of the street in which macadam had been substituted for paving, all the passengers turned and spoke to each other. 'some day,' he said, 'all oxford street will be macadamised, and then, because men will be able to hear each other's voices, the omnibus will become a delightful informal club.' now nearly all london is paved with wood, and people as they sit in chairs on the top of omnibuses can hear each other whispering; but no event short of a fatal accident is held to justify a passenger who speaks to his neighbour. clubs were established in london, not so much for the sake of the cheapness and convenience of common sitting-rooms and kitchens, as to bring together bodies of men, each of whom should meet all the rest on terms of unrestrained social intercourse. one can see in thackeray's _book of snobs_, and in the stories of thackeray's own club quarrels, the difficulties produced by this plan. nowadays clubs are successful exactly because it is an unwritten law in almost every one of them that no member must speak to any other who is not one of his own personal acquaintances. the innumerable communistic experiments of fourier, robert owen, and others, all broke up essentially because of the want of privacy. the associates got on each other's nerves. in those confused pages of the _politics_, in which aristotle criticises from the point of view of experience the communism of plato, the same point stands out: 'it is difficult to live together in community,' communistic colonists have always 'disputed with each other about the most ordinary matters'; 'we most often disagree with those slaves who are brought into daily contact with us.'[ ] [ ] _politics_, book ii. ch. v. the charity schools of to were experiments in the result of a complete refusal of scope, not only for the instinct of property, but for the entirely distinct instinct of privacy, and part of their disastrous nervous and moral effect must be put down to that. the boys in the contemporary public boarding-schools secured a little privacy by the adoption of strange and sometimes cruel social customs, and more has been done since then by systems of 'studies' and 'houses.' experience seems, however, to show that during childhood a day school with its alternation of home, class-room, and playing field, is better suited than a boarding-school to the facts of normal human nature. this instinctive need of privacy is again a subject which would repay special and detailed study. it varies very greatly among different races, and one supposes that the much greater desire for privacy which is found among northern, as compared to southern europeans, may be due to the fact that races who had to spend much or little of the year under cover, adjusted themselves biologically to a different standard in this respect. it is clear, also, that it is our emotional nature, and not the intellectual or muscular organs of talking, which is most easily fatigued. light chatter, even among strangers, in which neither party 'gives himself away,' is very much less fatiguing than an intimacy which makes some call upon the emotions. an actor who accepts the second alternative of diderot's paradox, and _feels_ his part, is much more likely to break down from overstrain, than one who only simulates feeling and keeps his own emotional life to himself. it is in democratic politics, however, that privacy is most neglected, most difficult, and most necessary. in america all observers are agreed as to the danger which results from looking on a politician as an abstract personification of the will of the people, to whom all citizens have an equal and inalienable right of access, and from whom every one ought to receive an equally warm and sincere welcome. in england our comparatively aristocratic tradition as to the relation between a representative and his constituents has done something to preserve customs corresponding more closely to the actual nature of man. a tired english statesman at a big reception is still allowed to spend his time rather in chaffing with a few friends in a distant corner of the room than in shaking hands and exchanging effusive commonplaces with innumerable unknown guests. but there is a real danger lest this tradition of privacy may be abolished in english democracy, simply because of its connection with aristocratic manners. a young labour politician is expected to live in more than american conditions of intimate publicity. having, perhaps, just left the working bench, and having to adjust his nerves and his bodily health to the difficult requirements of mental work, he is expected to receive every caller at any hour of the day or night with the same hearty good will, and to be always ready to share or excite the enthusiasm of his followers. after a year or two, in the case of a man of sensitive nervous organisation, the task is found to be impossible. the signs of nervous fatigue are at first accepted by him and his friends as proofs of his sincerity. he begins to suffer from the curate's disease, the bright-eyed, hysterical condition in which a man talks all day long to a succession of sympathetic hearers about his own overwork, and drifts into actual ill-health, though he is not making an hour's continuous exertion in the day. i knew a young agitator in that state who thought that he could not make a propagandist speech unless the deeply admiring pitman, in whose cottage he was staying, played the marseillaise on a harmonium before he started. often such a man takes to drink. in any case he is liable, as the east end clergymen who try to live the same life are liable, to the most pitiable forms of moral collapse. such men, however, are those who being unfit for a life without privacy, do not survive. greater political danger comes perhaps from those who are comparatively fit. any one who has been in america, who has stood among the crowd in a philadelphian law-court during the trial of a political case, or has seen the thousands of cartoons in a contest in which tammany is concerned, will find that he has a picture in his mind of one type at least of those who do survive. powerfully built, with the big jaw and loose mouth of the dominant talker, practised by years of sitting behind saloon bars, they have learnt the way of 'selling cheap that which should be most dear.' but even they generally look as if they drank, and as if they would not live to old age. other and less dreadful types of politicians without privacy come into one's mind, the orator who night after night repeats the theatrical success of his own personality, and, like the actor, keeps his recurring fits of weary disgust to himself; the busy organising talkative man to whom it is a mere delight to take the chair at four smoking concerts a week. but there is no one of them who would not be the better, both in health and working power, if he were compelled to retire for six months from the public view, and to produce something with his own hand and brain, or even to sit alone in his own house and think. these facts, in so far as they represent the nervous disturbance produced by certain conditions of life in political communities, are again closely connected with the one point in the special psychology of politics which has as yet received any extensive consideration--the so-called 'psychology of the crowd,' on which the late m. tarde, m. le bon, and others have written. in the case of human beings, as in the case of many other social and semi-social animals, the simpler impulses--especially those of fear and anger--when they are consciously shared by many physically associated individuals, may become enormously exalted, and may give rise to violent nervous disturbances. one may suppose that this fact, like the existence of laughter, was originally an accidental and undesirable result of the mechanism of nervous reaction, and that it persisted because when a common danger was realised (a forest fire, for instance, or an attack by beasts of prey), a general stampede, although it might be fatal to the weaker members of the herd, was the best chance of safety for the majority. my own observation of english politics suggests that in a modern national state, this panic effect of the combination of nervous excitement with physical contact is not of great importance. london in the twentieth century is very unlike paris in the eighteenth century, or florence in the fourteenth, if only because it is very difficult for any considerable proportion of the citizens to be gathered under circumstances likely to produce the special 'psychology of the crowd.' i have watched two hundred thousand men assembled in hyde park for a labour demonstration. the scattered platforms, the fresh air, the wide grassy space, seemed to be an unsuitable environment for the production of purely instinctive excitement, and the attitude of such an assembly in london is good-tempered and lethargic. a crowd in a narrow street is more likely to get 'out of hand,' and one may see a few thousand men in a large hall reach a state approaching genuine pathological exaltation on an exciting occasion, and when they are in the hands of a practised speaker. but as they go out of the hall they drop into the cool ocean of london, and their mood is dissipated in a moment. the mob that took the bastille would not seem or feel an overwhelming force in one of the business streets of manchester. yet such facts vary greatly among different races, and the exaggeration which one seems to notice when reading the french sociologists on this point may be due to their observations having been made among a latin and not a northern race. so far i have dealt with the impulses illustrated by the internal politics of a modern state. but perhaps the most important section in the whole psychology of political impulse is that which is concerned not with the emotional effect of the citizens of any state upon each other, but with those racial feelings which reveal themselves in international politics. the future peace of the world largely turns on the question whether we have, as is sometimes said and often assumed, an instinctive affection for those human beings whose features and colour are like our own, combined with an instinctive hatred for those who are unlike us. on this point, pending a careful examination of the evidence by the psychologists, it is difficult to dogmatise. but i am inclined to think that those strong and apparently simple cases of racial hatred and affection which can certainly be found, are not instances of a specific and universal instinct but the result of several distinct and comparatively weak instincts combined and heightened by habit and association. i have already argued that the instinct of political affection is stimulated by the vivid realisation of its object. since therefore it is easier, at least for uneducated men, to realise the existence of beings like than of beings unlike themselves, affection for one's like would appear to have a natural basis, but one likely to be modified as our powers of realisation are stimulated by education. again, since most men live, especially in childhood, among persons belonging to the same race as themselves, any markedly unusual face or dress may excite the instinct of fear of that which is unknown. a child's fear, however, of a strangely shaped or coloured face is more easily obliterated by familiarity than it would be if it were the result of a specific instinct of race-hatred. white or chinese children show, one is told, no permanent aversion for chinese or white or hindoo or negro nurses and attendants. sex love, again, even when opposed by social tradition, springs up freely between very different human types; and widely separated races have been thereby amalgamated. between some of the non-human species (horses and camels, for instance) instinctive mutual hatred, as distinguished from fear, does seem to exist, but nowhere, as far as i know, is it found between varieties so nearly related to each other and so readily interbreeding as the various human races. anglo-indian officials sometimes explain, as a case of specific instinct, the fact that a man who goes out with an enthusiastic interest in the native races often finds himself, after a few years, unwillingly yielding to a hatred of the hindoo racial type. but the account which they give of their sensations seems to me more like the nervous disgust which i described as arising from a constantly repeated mental and emotional adjustment to inharmonious surroundings. at the age when an english official reaches india most of his emotional habits are already set, and he makes, as a rule, no systematic attempt to modify them. therefore, just as the unfamiliarity of french cookery or german beds, which at the beginning of a continental visit is a delightful change, may become after a month or two an intolerable _gêne,_ so the servility and untruthfulness, and even the patience and cleverness of those natives with whom he is brought into official contact, get after a few years on the nerves of an anglo-indian. intimate and uninterrupted contact during a long period, after his social habits have been formed, with people of his own race but of a different social tradition would produce the same effect. perhaps, however, intellectual association is a larger factor than instinct in the causation of racial affection and hatred. an american working man associates, for instance, the far eastern physical type with that lowering of the standard wage which overshadows as a dreadful possibility every trade in the industrial world. fifty years ago the middle class readers to whom _punch_ appeals associated the same type with stories of tortured missionaries and envoys. after the battle of the sea of japan they associated it with that kind of heroism which, owing to our geographical position, we most admire; and drawings of the unmistakably asiatic features of admiral togo, which would have excited genuine and apparently instinctive disgust in , produced a thrill of affection in . but at this point we approach that discussion of the objects, sensible or imaginary, of political impulse (as distinguished from the impulses themselves), which must be reserved for my next chapter. chapter ii political entities man's impulses and thoughts and acts result from the relation between his nature and the environment into which he is born. the last chapter approached that relation (in so far as it affects politics) from the side of man's nature. this chapter will approach the same relation from the side of man's political environment. the two lines of approach have this important difference, that the nature with which man is born is looked on by the politician as fixed, while the environment into which man is born is rapidly and indefinitely changing. it is not to changes in our nature, but to changes in our environment only--using the word to include the traditions and expedients which we acquire after birth as well as our material surroundings--that all our political development from the tribal organisation of the stone ages to the modern nation has apparently been due. the biologist looks on human nature itself as changing, but to him the period of a few thousands or tens of thousands of years which constitute the past of politics is quite insignificant. important changes in biological types may perhaps have occurred in the history of the world during comparatively short periods, but they must have resulted either from a sudden biological 'sport' or from a process of selection fiercer and more discriminating than we believe to have taken place in the immediate past of our own species. the present descendants of those races which are pictured in early egyptian tombs show no perceptible change in their bodily appearance, and there is no reason to believe that the mental faculties and tendencies with which they are born have changed to any greater degree. the numerical proportions of different races in the world have, indeed, altered during that period, as one race proved weaker in war or less able to resist disease than another; and races have been mingled by marriage following upon conquest. but if a baby could now be exchanged at birth with one born of the same breeding-stock even a hundred thousand years ago, one may suppose that neither the ancient nor the modern mother would notice any startling difference. the child from the stone age would perhaps suffer more seriously than our children if he caught measles, or might show somewhat keener instincts in quarrelling and hunting, or as he grew up be rather more conscious than his fellows of the 'will to live' and 'the joy of life.' conversely, a transplanted twentieth-century child would resist infectious disease better than the other children in the stone age, and might, as he grew up, be found to have a rather exceptionally colourless and adaptable character. but there apparently the difference would end. in essentials the type of each human stock may be supposed to have remained unchanged throughout the whole period. in the politics of the distant future that science of eugenics, which aims at rapidly improving our type by consciously directed selective breeding, may become a dominant factor, but it has had little influence on the politics of the present or the past. those new facts in our environment which have produced the enormous political changes which separate us from our ancestors have been partly new habits of thought and feeling, and partly new entities about which we can think and feel. it is of these new political entities that this chapter will treat. they must have first reached us through our senses, and in this case almost entirely through the senses of seeing and hearing. but man, like other animals, lives in an unending stream of sense impressions, of innumerable sights and sounds and feelings, and is only stirred to deed or thought by those which he recognises as significant to him. how then did the new impressions separate themselves from the rest and become sufficiently significant to produce political results? the first requisite in anything which is to stimulate us toward impulse or action is that it should be recognisable--that it should be like itself when we met it before, or like something else which we have met before. if the world consisted of things which constantly and arbitrarily varied their appearance, if nothing was ever like anything else, or like itself for more than a moment at a time, living beings as at present constituted would not act at all. they would drift like seaweed among the waves. the new-born chicken cowers beneath the shadow of the hawk, because one hawk is like another. animals wake at sunrise, because one sunrise is like another; and find nuts or grass for food, because each nut and blade of grass is like the rest. but the recognition of likeness is not in itself a sufficient stimulus to action. the thing recognised must also be _significant_, must be felt in some way to matter to us. the stars reappear nightly in the heavens, but, as far as we can tell, no animals but men are stimulated to action by recognising them. the moth is not stimulated by recognising a tortoise, nor the cow by a cobweb. sometimes this significance is automatically indicated to us by nature. the growl of a wild beast, the sight of blood, the cry of a child in distress, stand out, without need of experience or teaching, from the stream of human sensations, just as, to a hungry fox-cub, the movement or glimpse of a rabbit among the undergrowth separates itself at once from the sounds of the wind and the colours of the leaves and flowers. sometimes the significance of a sensation has to be learned by the individual animal during its own life, as when a dog, who recognises the significance of a rat by instinct, learns to recognise that of a whip (provided it looks like the whip which he saw and felt before) by experience and association. in politics man has to make like things as well as to learn their significance. political tactics would indeed be a much simpler matter if ballot-papers were a natural product, and if on beholding a ballot-paper at about the age of twenty-one a youth who had never heard of one before were invariably seized with a desire to vote. the whole ritual of social and political organisation among savages, therefore, illustrates the process of creating artificial and easily recognisable political likenesses. if the chief is to be recognised as a chief he must, like the ghost of patroclus, 'be exceedingly like unto himself.' he must live in the same house, wear the same clothes, and do the same things year by year; and his successor must imitate him. if a marriage or an act of sale is to be recognised as a contract, it must be carried out in the customary place and with the customary gestures. in some few cases the thing thus artificially brought into existence and made recognisable still produces its impulsive effect by acting on those biologically inherited associations which enable man and other animals to interpret sensations without experience. the scarlet paint and wolfskin headdress of a warrior, or the dragon-mask of a medicine man, appeal, like the smile of a modern candidate, directly to our instinctive nature. but even in very early societies the recognition of artificial political entities must generally have owed its power of stimulating impulse to associations acquired during life. a child who had been beaten by the herald's rod, or had seen his father bow down before the king, or a sacred stone, learned to fear the rod, or the king, or the stone by association. recognition often attaches itself to certain special points (whether naturally developed or artificially made) in the thing recognised. such points then become symbols of the thing as a whole. the evolutionary facts of mimicry in the lower animals show that to some flesh-eating insects a putrid smell is a sufficiently convincing symbol of carrion to induce them to lay their eggs in a flower, and that the black and yellow bands of the wasp if imitated by a fly are a sufficient symbol to keep off birds.[ ] in early political society most recognition is guided by such symbols. one cannot make a new king, who may be a boy, in all respects like his predecessor, who may have been an old man. but one can tattoo both of them with the same pattern. it is even more easy and less painful to attach a symbol to a king which is not a part of the man himself, a royal staff for instance, which may be decorated and enlarged until it is useless as a staff, but unmistakable as a symbol. the king is then recognised as king because he is the 'staff-bearer' ([greek: skêptouchos basileús]). such a staff is very like a name, and there may, perhaps, have been an early mexican system of sign-writing in which a model of a staff stood for a king. [ ] cf. william james, _principles of psychology_, vol. ii. p. :--'the whole story of our dealings with the lower wild animals is the history of our taking advantage of the ways in which they judge of everything by its mere label, as it were, so as to ensnare or kill them.' at this point it is already difficult not to intellectualise the whole process. our own 'common-sense' and the systematised common-sense of the eighteenth-century philosophers would alike explain the fear of tribal man for a royal staff by saying that he was reminded thereby of the original social contract between ruler and ruled, or of the pleasure and pain which experience had shown to be derived from royal leadership and royal punishments, and that he therefore decided by a process of reasoning on seeing the staff to fear the king. when the symbol by which our impulse is stimulated is actual language, it is still more difficult not to confuse acquired emotional association with the full process of logical inference. because one of the effects of those sounds and signs which we call language is to stimulate in us a process of deliberate logical thought we tend to ignore all their other effects. nothing is easier than to make a description of the logical use of language, the breaking up by abstraction of a bundle of sensations--one's memory, for instance, of a royal person; the selection of a single quality--kingship, for instance--shared by other such bundles of sensations, the giving to that quality the name king, and the use of the name to enable us to repeat the process of abstraction. when we are consciously trying to reason correctly by the use of language all this does occur, just as it would occur if we had not evolved the use of voice-language at all, and were attempting to construct a valid logic of colours and models and pictures. but any text-book of psychology will explain why it errs, both by excess and defect, if taken as a description of that which actually happens when language is used for the purpose of stimulating us to action. indeed the 'brass-instrument psychologists,' who do such admirable work in their laboratories, have invented an experiment on the effect of significant words which every one may try for himself. let him get a friend to write in large letters on cards a series of common political terms, nations, parties, principles, and so on. let him then sit before a watch recording tenths of seconds, turn up the cards, and practise observation of the associations which successively enter his consciousness. the first associations revealed will be automatic and obviously 'illogical.' if the word be 'england' the white and black marks on the paper will, if the experimenter is a 'visualiser,' produce at once a picture of some kind accompanied by a vague and half conscious emotional reaction of affection, perhaps, or anxiety, or the remembrance of puzzled thought. if the experimenter is 'audile,' the marks will first call up a vivid sound image with which a like emotional reaction may be associated. i am a 'visualiser,' and the picture in my case was a blurred triangular outline. other 'visualisers' have described to me the picture of a red flag, or of a green field (seen from a railway carriage), as automatically called up by the word england. after the automatic picture or sound image and its purely automatic emotional accompaniment comes the 'meaning' of the word, the things one knows about england, which are presented to the memory by a process semi-automatic at first, but requiring before it is exhausted a severe effort. the question as to what images and feelings shall appear at each stage is, of course, settled by all the thoughts and events of our past life, but they appear, in the earlier moments at least of the experiment, before we have time consciously to reflect or choose. a corresponding process may be set up by other symbols besides language. if in the experiment the hats belonging to members of a family be substituted for the written cards, the rest of the process will go on--the automatic 'image,' automatically accompanied by emotional association, being succeeded in the course of a second or so by the voluntary realisation of 'meaning,' and finally by a deliberate effort of recollection and thought. tennyson, partly because he was a born poet and partly perhaps because his excessive use of tobacco put his brain occasionally a little out of focus, was extraordinarily accurate in his account of those separate mental states which for most men are merged into one by memory. a song, for instance, in the 'princess,' describes the succession which i have been discussing:-- 'thy voice is heard through rolling drums, that beat to battle where he stands. thy face across his fancy comes, and gives the battle to his hands: a moment, while the trumpets blow, he sees his brood about thy knee; the next, like fire he meets the foe, and strikes him dead for thine and thee.' 'thine and thee' at the end seem to me to express precisely the change from the automatic images of 'voice' and 'face' to the reflective mood in which the full meaning of that for which he fights is realised. but it is the 'face' that 'gives the battle to his hands.' here again, as we saw when comparing impulses themselves, it is the evolutionarily earlier more automatic, fact that has the greater, and the later intellectual fact which has the less impulsive power. even as one sits in one's chair one can feel that that is so. still more clearly can one feel it if one thinks of the phenomena of religion. the only religion of any importance which has ever been consciously constructed by a psychologist is the positivism of auguste comte. in order to produce a sufficiently powerful stimulus to ensure moral action among the distractions and temptations of daily life, he required each of his disciples to make for himself a visual image of humanity. the disciple was to practice mental contemplation for a definite period each morning of the remembered figure of some known and loved woman--his mother, or wife, or sister. he was to keep the figure always in the same attitude and dress, so that it should always present itself automatically as a definite mental image in immediate association with the word humanité.[ ] with that would be automatically associated the original impulse of affection for the person imaged. as soon as possible after that would come the meaning of the word, and the fuller but less cogent emotional associations connected with that meaning. this invention was partly borrowed from certain forms of mental discipline in the roman catholic church and partly suggested by comte's own experiences of the effect on him of the image of madame de vaux. one of the reasons that it has not come into greater use may have been that men in general are not quite such good 'visualisers' as comte found himself to be. [ ] _the catechism of positive religion_ (tr. by congreve), first part, 'explanation of the worship,' e.g. p. : 'the positivist shuts his eyes during his private prayers, the better to see the internal image.' cardinal newman, in an illuminating passage of his _apologia_, explains how he made for himself images of personified nations, and hints that behind his belief in the real existence of such images was his sense of the convenience of creating them. he says that he identified the 'character and instinct' of 'states' and of those 'governments of religious communities,' from which he suffered so much, with spirits 'partially fallen, capricious, wayward; noble or crafty, benevolent or malicious, as the case might he.... my preference of the personal to the abstract would naturally lead me to this view. i thought it countenanced by the mention of the "prince of persia" in the prophet daniel: and i think i considered that it was of such intermediate beings that the apocalypse spoke, when it introduced "the angels of the seven churches."'[ ] in ... i said ... 'take england with many high virtues and yet a low catholicism. it seems to me that john bull is a spirit neither of heaven nor hell.' [ ] newman, _apologia_ ( ), pp. , . harnack, in the same way, when describing the causes of the expansion of christianity, lays stress on the use of the word 'church' and the 'possibilities of personification which it offered.'[ ] this use may have owed its origin to a deliberate intellectual effort of abstraction applied by some christian philosopher to the common qualities of all christian congregations, though it more likely resulted from a half conscious process of adaptation in the employment of a current term. but when it was established the word owed its tremendous power over most men to the emotions automatically stimulated by the personification, and not to those which would follow on a full analysis of the meaning. religious history affords innumerable such instances. the 'truth embodied in a tale' has more emotional power than the unembodied truth, and the visual realisation of the central figure of the tale more power than the tale itself. the sound-image of a sacred name at which 'every knee shall bow,' or even of one which may be formed in the mind but may not be uttered by the lips, has more power at the moment of intensest feeling than the realisation of its meaning. things of the senses--the sacred food which one can taste, the virgin of kevlaar whom one can see and touch, are apt to be more real than their heavenly anti-types. [ ] harnack, _expansion of christianity_ (tr.), vol. ii. p. . if we turn to politics for instances of the same fact, we again discover how much harder it is there than in religion, or morals, or education, to resist the habit of giving intellectual explanations of emotional experiences. for most men the central political entity is their country. when a man dies for his country, what does he die for? the reader in his chair thinks of the size and climate, the history and population, of some region in the atlas, and explains the action of the patriot by his relation to all these things. but what seems to happen in the crisis of battle is not the logical building up or analysing of the idea of one's country, but that automatic selection by the mind of some thing of sense accompanied by an equally automatic emotion of affection which i have already described. throughout his life the conscript has lived in a stream of sensations, the printed pages of the geography book, the sight of streets and fields and faces, the sound of voices or of birds or rivers, all of which go to make up the infinity of facts from which he might abstract an idea of his country. what comes to him in the final charge? perhaps the row of pollard elms behind his birth-place. more likely some personification of his country, some expedient of custom or imagination for enabling an entity which one can love to stand out from the unrealised welter of experience. if he is an italian it may be the name, the musical syllables, of italia. if he is a frenchman, it may be the marble figure of france with her broken sword, as he saw it in the market-square of his native town, or the maddening pulse of the 'marseillaise.' romans have died for a bronze eagle on a wreathed staff, englishmen for a flag, scotchmen for the sound of the pipes. once in a thousand years a man may stand in a funeral crowd after the fighting is over, and his heart may stir within him as he hears pericles abstract from the million qualities of individual athenians in the present and the past just those that make the meaning of athens to the world. but afterwards all that he will remember may be the cadence of pericles' voice, the movement of his hand, or the sobbing of some mother of the dead. in the evolution of politics, among the most important events have been the successive creations of new moral entities--of such ideals as justice, freedom, right. in their origin that process of conscious logical abstraction, which we are tempted to accept as the explanation of all mental phenomena, must have corresponded in great part to the historical fact. we have, for instance, contemporary accounts of the conversations in which socrates compared and analysed the unwilling answers of jurymen and statesmen, and we know that the word justice was made by his work an infinitely more effective political term. it is certain too that for many centuries before socrates the slow adaptation of the same word by common use was from time to time quickened by some forgotten wise man who brought to bear upon it the intolerable effort of conscious thought. but as soon as, at each stage, the work was done, and justice, like a rock statue on whom successive generations of artists have toiled, stood out in compelling beauty, she was seen not as an abstraction but as a direct revelation. it is true that this revelation made the older symbols mean and dead, but that which overcame them seemed a real and visible thing, not a difficult process of comparison and analysis. antigone in the play defied in the name of justice the command which the sceptre-bearing king had sent through the sacred person of his herald. but justice to her was a goddess, 'housemate of the nether gods'--and the sons of those athenian citizens who applauded the antigone condemned socrates to death because his dialectic turned the gods back into abstractions. the great jewish prophets owed much of their spiritual supremacy to the fact that they were able to present a moral idea with intense emotional force without stiffening it into a personification; but that was because they saw it always in relation to the most personal of all gods. amos wrote, 'i hate, i despise your feasts, and i will not smell the savour of your assemblies.... take thou away from me the noise of thy songs; for i will not hear the melody of thy viols. but let judgment roll down as waters, and righteousness as an ever-flowing stream.'[ ] 'judgment' and 'righteousness' are not goddesses, but the voice which amos heard was not the voice of an abstraction. [ ] amos, ch. v., vv. , , (r.v.m.). sometimes a new moral or political entity is created rather by immediate insight than by the slow process of deliberate analysis. some seer of genius perceives in a flash the essential likeness of things hitherto kept apart in men's minds--the impulse which leads to anger with one's brother, and that which leads to murder, the charity of the widow's mite and of the rich man's gold, the intemperance of the debauchee and of the party leader. but when the master dies the vision too often dies with him. plato's 'ideas' became the formulae of a system of magic, and the command of jesus that one should give all that one had to the poor handed over one-third of the land of europe to be the untaxed property of wealthy ecclesiastics. it is this last relation between words and things which makes the central difficulty of thought about politics. the words are so rigid, so easily personified, so associated with affection and prejudice; the things symbolised by the words are so unstable. the moralist or the teacher deals, as a greek would say, for the most part, with 'natural,' the politician always with 'conventional' species. if one forgets the meaning of motherhood or childhood, nature has yet made for us unmistakable mothers and children who reappear, true to type, in each generation. the chemist can make sure whether he is using a word in precisely the same sense as his predecessor by a few minutes' work in his laboratory. but in politics the thing named is always changing, may indeed disappear and may require hundreds of years to restore. aristotle defined the word 'polity' to mean a state where 'the citizens as a body govern in accordance with the general good.'[ ] as he wrote, self-government in those states from which he abstracted the idea was already withering beneath the power of macedonia. soon there were no such states at all, and, now that we are struggling back to aristotle's conception, the name which he defined is borne by the 'police' of odessa. it is no mere accident of philology that makes 'justices' justice' a paradox. from the time that the roman jurisconsults resumed the work of the greek philosophers, and by laborious question and answer built up the conception of 'natural justice, it, like all other political conceptions, was exposed to the two dangers. on the one hand, since the original effort of abstraction was in its completeness incommunicable, each generation of users of the word subtly changed its use. on the other hand, the actions and institutions of mankind, from which the conception was abstracted, were as subtly changing. even although the manuscripts of the roman lawyers survived, roman law and roman institutions had both ceased to be. when the phrases of justinian were used by a merovingian king or a spanish inquisitor not only was the meaning of the words changed, but the facts to which the words could have applied in their old sense were gone. yet the emotional power of the bare words remained. the civil law and canon law of the middle ages were able to enforce all kinds of abuses because the tradition of reverence still attached itself to the sound of 'rome.' for hundreds of years, one among the german princes was made somewhat more powerful than his neighbours by the fact that he was 'roman emperor,' and was called by the name of caesar. [ ] _politics_, ch. vii., [greek: hotan tò plêthos pròs tò koinòn politeúê tai symphéron.] the same difficulties and uncertainties as those which influence the history of a political entity when once formed confront the statesman who is engaged in making a new one. the great men, stein, bismarck, cavour, or metternich, who throughout the nineteenth century worked at the reconstruction of the europe which napoleon's conquests shattered, had to build up new states which men should respect and love, whose governments they should willingly obey, and for whose continued existence they should be prepared to die in battle. races and languages and religions were intermingled throughout central europe, and the historical memories of the kingdoms and dukedoms and bishoprics into which the map was divided were confused and unexciting. nothing was easier than to produce and distribute new flags and coins and national names. but the emotional effect of such things depends upon associations which require time to produce, and which may have to contend against associations already existing. the boy in lombardy or galicia saw the soldiers and the schoolmaster salute the austrian flag, but the real thrill came when he heard his father or mother whisper the name of italy or poland. perhaps, as in the case of hanover, the old associations and the new are for many years almost equally balanced. in such times men fall back from the immediate emotional associations of the national name and search for its meaning. they ask what _is_ the austrian or the german empire. as long as there was only one pope men handed on unexamined the old reverence from father to son. when for forty years there had been two popes, at rome and at avignon, men began to ask what constituted a pope. and in such times some men go further still. they may ask not only what is the meaning of the word austrian empire, or pope, but what in the nature of things is the ultimate reason why the austrian empire or the papacy should exist. the work therefore of nation-building must be carried forward on each plane. the national name and flag and anthem and coinage all have their entirely non-logical effect based on habitual association. meanwhile the statesmen strive to create as much meaning as possible for such symbols. if all the subjects of a state serve in one army and speak, or understand, one language, or even use a black-letter alphabet which has been abandoned elsewhere, the national name will mean more to them. the saxon or the savoyard will have a fuller answer to give himself when he asks 'what does it mean, that i am a german or a frenchman?' a single successful war waged in common will create not only a common history, but a common inheritance of passionate feeling. 'nationalists,' meanwhile, may be striving, by songs and pictures and appeals to the past, to revive and intensify the emotional associations connected with older national areas--and behind all this will go on the deliberate philosophical discussion of the advantages to be derived from large or small, racial or regional states, which will reach the statesman at second-hand and the citizen at third-hand. as a result, italy, belgium, and the german empire succeed in establishing themselves as states resting upon a sufficient basis of patriotism, and austria-hungary may, when the time of stress comes, be found to have failed. but if the task of state building in europe during the nineteenth century was difficult, still more difficult is the task before the english statesmen of the twentieth century of creating an imperial patriotism. we have not even a name, with any emotional associations, for the united kingdom itself. no englishman is stirred by the name 'british,' the name 'english' irritates all scotchmen, and the irish are irritated by both alike. our national anthem is a peculiarly flat and uninspiring specimen of eighteenth-century opera libretto and opera music. the little naked st. george on the gold coins, or the armorial pattern on the silver coins never inspired any one. the new copper coinage bears, it is true, a graceful figure of miss hicks beach. but we have made it so small and ladylike that it has none of the emotional force of the glorious portrait heads of france or switzerland. the only personification of his nation which the artisan of oldham or middlesbrough can recognise is the picture of john bull as a fat, brutal, early nineteenth-century midland farmer. one of our national symbols alone, the 'union jack,' though it is as destitute of beauty as a patchwork quilt, is fairly satisfactory. but all its associations so far are with naval warfare. when we go outside the united kingdom we are in still worse case. 'the united kingdom of great britain and ireland together with its colonies and dependencies' has no shorter or more inspiring name. throughout the colonial conference of statesmen and leader writers tried every expedient of periphrasis and allusion to avoid hurting any one's feelings even by using such a term as 'british empire.' to the _sydney bulletin_, and to the caricaturists of europe, the fact that any territory on the map of the world is coloured red still recalls nothing but the little greedy eyes, huge mouth, and gorilla hands of 'john bull.' if, again, the young boer or hindoo or ex-american canadian asks himself what is the meaning of membership ('citizenship,' as applied to five-sixths of the inhabitants of the empire, would be misleading) of the empire, he finds it extraordinarily difficult to give an answer. when he goes deeper and asks for what purpose the empire exists, he is apt to be told that the inhabitants of great britain conquered half the world in a fit of absence of mind and have not yet had time to think out an _ex post facto_ justification for so doing. the only product of memory or reflection that can stir in him the emotion of patriotism is the statement that so far the tradition of the empire has been to encourage and trust to political freedom. but political freedom, even in its noblest form, is a negative quality, and the word is apt to bear different meanings in bengal and rhodesia and australia. states, however, constitute only one among many types of political entities. as soon as any body of men have been grouped under a common political name, that name may acquire emotional associations as well as an intellectually analysable meaning. for the convenience, for instance, of local government the suburbs of birmingham are divided into separate boroughs. partly because these boroughs occupy the site of ancient villages, partly because football teams of scotch professionals are named after them, partly because human emotions must have something to attach themselves to, they are said to be developing a fierce local patriotism, and west bromwich is said to hate aston as the blues hated the greens in the byzantine theatre. in london, largely under the influence of the birmingham instance, twenty-nine new boroughs were created in , with names--at least in the case of the city of westminster--deliberately selected in order to revive half-forgotten emotional associations. however, in spite of mr. chesterton's prophecy in _the napoleon of notting hill_, very few londoners have learnt to feel or think primarily as citizens of their boroughs. town halls are built which they never see, coats of arms are invented which they would not recognise; and their boroughs are mere electoral wards in which they vote for a list of unknown names grouped under the general title adopted by their political party. the party is, in fact, the most effective political entity in the modern national state. it has come into existence with the appearance of representative government on a large scale; its development has been unhampered by legal or constitutional traditions, and it represents the most vigorous attempt which has been made to adapt the form of our political institutions to the actual facts of human nature. in a modern state there may be ten million or more voters. every one of them has an equal right to come forward as a candidate and to urge either as candidate or agitator the particular views which he may hold on any possible political question. but to each citizen, living as he does in the infinite stream of things, only a few of his ten million fellow-citizens could exist as separate objects of political thought or feeling, even if each one of them held only one opinion on one subject without change during his life. something is required simpler and more permanent, something which can be loved and trusted, and which can be recognised at successive elections as being the same thing that was loved and trusted before; and a party is such a thing. the origin of any particular party may be due to a deliberate intellectual process. it may be formed, as burke said, by 'a body of men united for promoting by their joint endeavours the national interest upon some particular principle in which they are all agreed.'[ ] but when a party has once come into existence its fortunes depend upon facts of human nature of which deliberate thought is only one. it is primarily a name, which, like other names, calls up when it is heard or seen an 'image' that shades imperceptibly into the voluntary realisation of its meaning. as in other cases, emotional reactions can be set up by the name and its automatic mental associations. it is the business of the party managers to secure that these automatic associations shall be as clear as possible, shall be shared by as large a number as possible, and shall call up as many and as strong emotions as possible. for this purpose nothing is more generally useful than the party colour. our distant ancestors must have been able to recognise colour before they recognised language, and the simple and stronger emotions more easily attach themselves to a colour than to a word. the poor boy who died the other day with the ribbon of the sheffield wednesday football club on his pillow loved the colour itself with a direct and intimate affection. [ ] _thoughts on the present discontents_ (macmillan, ), p. . a party tune is equally automatic in its action, and, in the case of people with a musical 'ear,' even more effective than a party colour as an object of emotion. as long as the marseillaise, which is now the national tune of france, was the party tune of the revolution its influence was enormous. even now, outside of france, it is a very valuable party asset. it was a wise suggestion which an experienced political organiser made in the _westminster gazette_ at the time of gladstone's death, that part of the money collected in his honour should be spent in paying for the composition of the best possible marching tune, which should be identified for all time with the liberal party.[ ] one of the few mistakes made by the very able men who organised mr. chamberlain's tariff reform campaign was their failure to secure even a tolerably good tune. [ ] _westminster gazette_, june , . only less automatic than those of colour or tune come the emotional associations called up by the first and simplest meaning of the word or words used for the party name. a greek father called his baby 'very glorious' or 'good in counsel,' and the makers of parties in the same way choose names whose primary meanings possess established emotional associations. from the beginning of the existence and activity of a party new associations are, however, being created which tend to take the place, in association, of the original meaning of the name. no one in america when he uses the terms republican or democrat thinks of their dictionary meanings. any one, indeed, who did so would have acquired a mental habit as useless and as annoying as the habit of reading greek history with a perpetual recognition of the dictionary meanings of names like aristobulus and theocritus. long and precise names which make definite assertions as to party policy are therefore soon shortened into meaningless syllables with new associations derived from the actual history of the party. the constitutional democrats in russia become cadets, and the independent labour party becomes the i.l.p. on the other hand, the less conscious emotional associations which are automatically excited by less precise political names may last much longer. the german national liberals were valuable allies for bismarck during a whole generation because their name vaguely suggested a combination of patriotism and freedom. when the mine-owners in the transvaal decided some years ago to form a political party they chose, probably after considerable discussion, the name of 'progressive.' it was an excellent choice. in south africa the original associations of the word were apparently soon superseded, but elsewhere it long suggested that sir percy fitzpatrick and his party had the same sort of democratic sympathies as mr. m'kinnon wood and his followers on the london county council. no one speaking to an audience whose critical and logical faculties were fully aroused would indeed contend that because a certain body of people had chosen to call themselves progressives, therefore a vote against them was necessarily a vote against progress. but in the dim and shadowy region of emotional association a good name, if its associations are sufficiently subconscious, has a real political value. conversely, the opponents of a party attempt to label it with a name that will excite feelings of opposition. the old party terms of whig and tory are striking instances of such names given by opponents and lasting perhaps half a century before they lost their original abusive associations. more modern attempts have been less successful, because they have been more precise. 'jingo' had some of the vague suggestiveness of an effectively bad name, but 'separatist,' 'little englander,' 'food taxer,' remain as assertions to be consciously accepted or rejected. the whole relation between party entities and political impulse can perhaps be best illustrated from the art of advertisement. in advertisement the intellectual process can be watched apart from its ethical implications, and advertisement and party politics are becoming more and more closely assimilated in method. the political poster is placed side by side with the trade or theatrical poster on the hoardings, it is drawn by the same artist and follows the same empirical rules of art. let us suppose therefore that a financier thinks that there is an opening for a large advertising campaign in connection, say, with the tea trade. the actual tea-leaves in the world are as varied and unstable as the actual political opinions of mankind. every leaf in every tea-garden is different from every other leaf, and a week of damp weather may change the whole stock in any warehouse. what therefore should the advertiser do to create a commercial 'entity,' a 'tea' which men can think and feel about? a hundred years ago he would have made a number of optimistic and detailed statements with regard to his opportunities and methods of trade. he would have printed in the newspapers a statement that 'william jones, assisted by a staff of experienced buyers, will attend the tea-sales of the east india company, and will lay in parcels from the best chinese gardens, which he will retail to his customers at a profit of not more than five per centum.' this, however, is an open appeal to the critical intellect, and by the critical intellect it would now be judged. we should not consider mr. jones to be an unbiassed witness as to the excellence of his choice, or think that he would have sufficient motive to adhere to his pledge about his rate of profit if he thought he could get more. nowadays, therefore, such an advertiser would practice on our automatic and subconscious associations. he would choose some term, say 'parramatta tea,' which would produce in most men a vague suggestion of the tropical east, combined with the subconscious memory of a geography lesson on australia. he would then proceed to create in connection with the word an automatic picture-image having previous emotional associations of its own. by the time that a hundred thousand pounds had been cleverly spent, no one in england would be able to see the word 'parramatta' on a parcel without a vague impulse to buy, founded on a day-dream recollection of his grandmother, or of the british fleet, or of a pretty young english matron, or of any other subject that the advertiser had chosen for its association with the emotions of trust or affection. when music plays a larger part in english public education it may be possible to use it effectively for advertisement, and a 'parramatta motif' would in that case appear in all the pantomimes, in connection, say, with a song about the soldier's return, and would be squeaked by a gramophone in every grocer's shop. this instance has the immense advantage, as an aid to clearness of thought, that up to this point no parramatta tea exists, and no one has even settled what sort of tea shall be provided under that name. parramatta tea is still a commercial entity pure and simple. it may later on be decided to sell very poor tea at a large profit until the original associations of the name have been gradually superseded by the association of disappointment. or it may be decided to experiment by selling different teas under that name in different places, and to push the sale of the flavour which 'takes on.' but there are other attractive names of teas on the hoardings, with associations of babies, and bull-dogs, and the tower of london. if it is desired to develop a permanent trade in competition with these it will probably be found wisest to supply tea of a fairly uniform quality, and with a distinctive flavour which may act as its 'meaning.' the great difficulty will then come when there is a change of public taste, and when the sales fall off because the chosen flavour no longer pleases. the directors may think it safest to go on selling the old flavour to a diminishing number of customers, or they may gradually substitute another flavour, taking the risk that the number of housewives who say, 'this is not the real parramatta tea,' may be balanced by the number of those who say, 'parramatta tea has improved.' if people will not buy the old flavour at all, and prefer to buy the new flavour under a new name, the parramatta tea company must be content to disappear, like a religion which has made an unsuccessful attempt to put new wine into old bottles. all these conditions are as familiar to the party politician as they are to the advertiser. the party candidate is, at his first appearance, to most of his constituents merely a packet with the name of liberal or conservative upon it. that name has associations of colour and music, of traditional habit and affection, which, when once formed, exist independently of the party policy. unless he bears the party label--unless he is, as the americans say, a 'regular' candidate--not only will those habits and affections be cut off from him, but he will find it extraordinarily difficult to present himself as a tangible entity to the electors at all. a proportion of the electors, varying greatly at different times and at different places, will vote for the 'regular' nominee of their party without reference to his programme, though to the rest of them, and always to the nominating committee, he must also present a programme which can be identified with the party policy. but, in any case, as long as he is a party candidate, he must remember that it is in that character that he speaks and acts. the party prepossessions and party expectations of his constituents alone make it possible for them to think and feel with him. when he speaks there is between him and his audience the party mask, larger and less mobile than his own face, like the mask which enabled actors to be seen and heard in the vast open-air theatres of greece. if he can no longer act the part with sincerity he must either leave the stage or present himself in the mask of another party. party leaders again have always to remember that the organisation which they control is an entity with an existence in the memory and emotions of the electors, independent of their own opinions and actions. this does not mean that party leaders cannot be sincere. as individuals they can indeed only preserve their political life by being in constant readiness to lose it. sometimes they must even risk the existence of their party itself. when sir robert peel was converted to free trade in , he had to decide whether he and his friends should shatter the tory party by leaving it, or should so transform its policy that it might not be recognised, even in the half-conscious logic of habit and association, as that entity for which men had voted and worked four years before. in either case peel was doing something other and more serious than the expression of his individual opinion on a question of the moment. and yet, if, recognising this, he had gone on advocating corn duties for the sake of his party, his whole personal force as a politician, and therefore even his party value, would have been lost. if a celestial intelligence were now to look down from heaven on the earth with the power of observing every fact about all human beings at once, he might ask, as the newspaper editors are asking as i write, what that socialism is which influences so many lives? he might answer himself with a definition which could be clumsily translated as 'a movement towards greater social equality, depending for its force upon three main factors, the growing political power of the working classes, the growing social sympathy of many members of all classes, and the belief, based on the growing authority of scientific method, that social arrangements can be transformed by means of conscious and deliberate contrivance.' he would see men trying to forward this movement by proposals as to taxation, wages, and regulative or collective administration; some of which proposals would prove to be successfully adapted to the facts of human existence and some would in the end be abandoned, either because no nation could be persuaded to try them or because when tried they failed. but he would also see that this definition of a many-sided and ever-varying movement drawn by abstraction from innumerable socialistic proposals and desires is not a description of 'socialism' as it exists for the greater number of its supporters. the need of something which one may love and for which one may work has created for thousands of working men a personified 'socialism,' a winged goddess with stern eyes and drawn sword to be the hope of the world and the protector of those that suffer. the need of some engine of thought which one may use with absolute faith and certainty has also created another socialism, not a personification, but a final and authoritative creed. such a creed appeared in england in , and william morris took it down in his beautiful handwriting from mr. hyndman's lectures. it was the revelation which made a little dimly educated working man say to me three years later, with tears of genuine humility in his eyes, 'how strange it is that this glorious truth has been hidden from all the clever and learned men of the world and shown to me.' meanwhile socialism is always a word, a symbol used in common speech and writing. a hundred years hence it may have gone the way of its predecessors--leveller, saint-simonism, communism, chartism--and may survive only in histories of a movement which has since undergone other transformations and borne other names. it may, on the other hand, remain, as the republic has remained in france, to be the title on coins and public buildings of a movement which after many disappointments and disillusionments has succeeded in establishing itself as a government. but the use of a word in common speech is only the resultant of its use by individual men and women, and particularly by those who accept it as a party name. each one of them, as long as the movement is really alive, will find that while the word must be used, because otherwise the movement will have no political existence, yet its use creates a constant series of difficult problems in conduct. any one who applies the name to himself or others in a sense so markedly different from common use as to make it certain or probable that he is creating a false impression is rightly charged with want of ordinary veracity. and yet there are cases where enormous practical results may depend upon keeping wide the use of a word which is tending to be narrowed. the 'modernist' roman catholic who has studied the history of religion uses the term 'catholic church' to mean a society which has gone through various intellectual stages in the past, and which depends for its vitality upon the existence of reasonable freedom of change in the future. he therefore calls himself a catholic. to the pope and his advisers, on the other hand, the church is an unchanging miracle based on an unchanging revelation. father tyrrell, when he says that he 'believes' in the catholic church, though he obviously disbelieves in the actual occurrence of most of the facts which constitute the original revelation, seems to them to be simply a liar, who is stealing their name for his own fraudulent purposes. they can no more understand him than can the ultramontanes among the german social-democrats understand bernstein and his modernist allies. bernstein himself, on the other hand, has to choose whether he ought to try to keep open the common use of the name socialist, or whether in the end he will have to abandon it, because his claim to use it merely creates bad feeling and confusion of thought. sometimes a man of exceptional personal force and power of expression is, so to speak, a party--a political entity--in himself. he may fashion a permanent and recognisable mask for himself as 'honest john' or 'the grand old man.' but this can as a rule only be done by those who learn the main condition of their task, the fact that if an individual statesman's intellectual career is to exist for the mass of the present public at all, it must be based either on an obstinate adherence to unchanging opinions or on a development, slow, simple, and consistent. the indifferent and half attentive mind which most men turn towards politics is like a very slow photograph plate. he who wishes to be clearly photographed must stand before it in the same attitude for a long time. a bird that flies across the plate leaves no mark. 'change of opinion,' wrote gladstone in , 'in those to whose judgment the public looks more or less to assist its own, is an evil to the country, although a much smaller evil than their persistence in a course which they know to be wrong. it is not always to be blamed. but it is always to be watched with vigilance; always to be challenged and put upon its trial.'[ ] most statesmen avoid this choice between the loss of force resulting from a public change of opinion, and the loss of character resulting from the public persistence in an opinion privately abandoned, not only by considering carefully every change in their own conclusions, but by a delay, which often seems cowardly and absurd, in the public expression of their thoughts upon all questions except those which are ripe for immediate action. the written or reported word remains, and becomes part of that entity outside himself which the stateman is always building or destroying or transforming. [ ] _gleanings_, vol. vii. p. , quoted in morley's _life_, vol. i. p. . the same conditions affect other political entities besides parties and statesmen. if a newspaper is to live as a political force it must impress itself on men's minds as holding day by day to a consistent view. the writers, not only from editorial discipline, but from the instinctive desire to be understood, write in the character of their paper's personality. if it is sold to a proprietor holding or wishing to advocate different opinions, it must either frankly proclaim itself as a new thing or must make it appear by slow and solemn argumentative steps that the new attitude is a necessary development of the old. it is therefore rightly felt that a capitalist who buys a paper for the sake of using its old influence to strengthen a new movement is doing something to be judged by other moral standards than those which apply to the purchase of so much printing-machinery and paper. he may be destroying something which has been a stable and intelligible entity for thousands of plain people living in an otherwise unintelligible world, and which has collected round it affection and trust as real as was ever inspired by an orator or a monarch. chapter iii non-rational inference in politics the assumption--which is so closely interwoven with our habits of political and economic thought--that men always act on a reasoned opinion as to their interests, may be divided into two separate assumptions: first, that men always act on some kind of inference as to the best means of reaching a preconceived end, and secondly, that all inferences are of the same kind, and are produced by a uniform process of 'reasoning.' in the two preceding chapters i dealt with the first assumption, and attempted to show that it is important for a politician to realise that men do not always act on inferences as to means and ends. i argued that men often act in politics under the immediate stimulus of affection and instinct, and that affection and interest may be directed towards political entities which are very different from those facts in the world around us which we can discover by deliberate observation and analysis. in this chapter i propose to consider the second assumption, and to inquire how far it is true that men, when they do form inferences as to the result of their political actions, always form them by a process of reasoning. in such an inquiry one meets the preliminary difficulty that it is very hard to arrive at a clear definition of reasoning. any one who watches the working of his own mind will find that it is by no means easy to trace these sharp distinctions between various mental states, which seem so obvious when they are set out in little books on psychology. the mind of man is like a harp, all of whose strings throb together; so that emotion, impulse, inference, and the special kind of inference called reasoning, are often simultaneous and intermingled aspects of a single mental experience. this is especially true in moments of action and excitement; but when we are sitting in passive contemplation we would often find it hard to say whether our successive states of consciousness are best described as emotions or inferences. and when our thought clearly belongs to the type of inference it is often hard to say whether its steps are controlled by so definite a purpose of discovering truth that we are entitled to call it reasoning. even when we think with effort and with a definite purpose, we do not always draw inferences or form beliefs of any kind. if we forget a name we say the alphabet over to ourselves and pause at each letter to see if the name we want will be suggested to us. when we receive bad news we strive to realise it by allowing successive mental associations to arise of themselves, and waiting to discover what the news will mean for us. a poet broods with intense creative effort on the images which appear in his mind and arranges them, not in order to discover truth, but in order to attain an artistic and dramatic end. in prospero's great speech in _the tempest_ the connection between the successive images--the baseless fabric of this vision--the cloud-capped towers--the gorgeous palaces--the solemn temples--the great globe itself--is, for instance, one not of inference but of reverie, heightened by creative effort, and subordinated to poetic intention. most of the actual inferences which we draw during any day belong, indeed, to a much humbler type of thought than do some of the higher forms of non-inferential association. many of our inferences, like the quasi-instinctive impulses which they accompany and modify, take place when we are making no conscious effort at all. in such a purely instinctive action as leaping backwards from a falling stone, the impulse to leap and the inference that there is danger, are simply two names for a single automatic and unconscious process. we can speak of instinctive inference as well as of instinctive impulse; we draw, for instance, by an instinctive mental process, inferences as to the distance and solidity of objects from the movements of our eye-muscles in focussing, and from the difference between the images on our two retinas. we are unaware of the method by which we arrive at these inferences, and even when we know that the double photograph in the stereoscope is flat, or that the conjurer has placed two converging sheets of looking-glass beneath his table, we can only say that the photograph 'looks' solid, or that we 'seem' to see right under the table. the whole process of inference, rational or non-rational, is indeed built up from the primary fact that one mental state may call up another, either because the two have been associated together in the history of the individual, or because a connection between the two has proved useful in the history of the race. if a man and his dog stroll together down the street they turn to the right hand or the left, hesitate or hurry in crossing the road, recognise and act upon the bicycle bell and the cabman's shout, by using the same process of inference to guide the same group of impulses. their inferences are for the most part effortless, though sometimes they will both be seen to pause until they have settled some point by wordless deliberation. it is only when a decision has to be taken affecting the more distant purposes of his life that the man enters on a region of definitely rational thought where the dog cannot follow him, in which he uses words, and is more or less conscious of his own logical methods. but the weakness of inference by automatic association as an instrument of thought consists in the fact that either of a pair of associated ideas may call up the other without reference to their logical connection. the effect calls up the cause as freely as the cause calls up the effect. a patient under a hypnotic trance is wonderfully rapid and fertile in drawing inferences, but he hunts the scent backward as easily as he does forward. put a dagger in his hand and he believes that he has committed a murder. the sight of an empty plate convinces him that he has had dinner. if left to himself he will probably go through routine actions well enough. but any one who understands his condition can make him act absurdly. in the same way when we dream we draw absurd inferences by association. the feeling of discomfort due to slight indigestion produces a belief that we are about to speak to a large audience and have mislaid our notes, or are walking along the brighton parade in a night-shirt. even when men are awake, those parts of their mind to which for the moment they are not giving full attention are apt to draw equally unfounded inferences. a conjurer who succeeds in keeping the attention of his audience concentrated on the observation of what he is doing with his right hand can make them draw irrational conclusions from the movements of his left hand. people in a state of strong religious emotion sometimes become conscious of a throbbing sound in their ears, due to the increased force of their circulation. an organist, by opening the thirty-two foot pipe, can create the same sensation, and can thereby induce in the congregation a vague and half-conscious belief that they are experiencing religious emotion. the political importance of all this consists in the fact that most of the political opinions of most men are the result, not of reasoning tested by experience, but of unconscious or half-conscious inference fixed by habit. it is indeed mainly in the formation of tracks of thought that habit shows its power in politics. in our other activities habit is largely a matter of muscular adaptation, but the bodily movements of politics occur so seldom that nothing like a habit can be set up by them. one may see a respectable voter, whose political opinions have been smoothed and polished by the mental habits of thirty years, fumbling over the act of marking and folding his ballot paper like a child with its first copybook. some men even seem to reverence most those of their opinions whose origin has least to do with deliberate reasoning. when mr. barrie's bowie haggart said: 'i am of opeenion that the works of burns is of an immoral tendency. i have not read them myself, but such is my opeenion,'[ ] he was comparing the merely rational conclusion which might have resulted from a reading of burns's works with the conviction about them which he found ready-made in his mind, and which was the more sacred to him and more intimately his own, because he did not know how it was produced. [ ] _auld licht idylls_, p. . opinion thus unconsciously formed is a fairly safe guide in the affairs of our daily life. the material world does not often go out of its way to deceive us, and our final convictions are the resultant of many hundreds of independent fleeting inferences, of which the valid are more numerous and more likely to survive than the fallacious. but even in our personal affairs our memory is apt to fade, and we can often remember the association between two ideas, while forgetting the cause which created that association. we discover in our mind a vague impression that simpson is a drunkard, and cannot recollect whether we ever had any reason to believe it, or whether some one once told us that simpson had a cousin who invented a cure for drunkenness. when the connection is remembered in a telling phrase, and when its origin has never been consciously noticed, we may find ourselves with a really vivid belief for which we could, if cross-examined, give no account whatever. when, for instance, we have heard an early-victorian bishop called 'soapy sam' half a dozen times we get a firm conviction of his character without further evidence. under ordinary circumstances not much harm is done by this fact; because a name would not be likely to 'catch on' unless a good many people really thought it appropriate, and unless it 'caught on' we should not be likely to hear it more than once or twice. but in politics, as in the conjuring trade, it is often worth while for some people to take a great deal of trouble in order to produce such an effect without waiting for the idea to enforce itself by merely accidental repetition. i have already said that political parties try to give each other bad names by an organised system of mental suggestion. if the word 'wastrel,' for instance, appears on the contents bills of the _daily mail_ one morning as a name for the progressives during a county council election, a passenger riding on an omnibus from putney to the bank will see it half-consciously at least a hundred times, and will have formed a fairly stable mental association by the end of the journey. if he reflected, he would know that only one person has once decided to use the word, but he does not reflect, and the effect on him is the same as if a hundred persons had used it independently of each other. the contents-bills, indeed, of the newspapers, which were originally short and pithy merely from considerations of space, have developed in a way which threatens to turn our streets (like the advertisement pages of an american magazine) into a psychological laboratory for the unconscious production of permanent associations. 'another german insult,' 'keir hardie's crime,' 'balfour backs down,' are intended to stick and do stick in the mind as ready-made opinions. in all this again the same rule holds as in the production of impulse. things that are nearer sense, nearer to our more ancient evolutionary past, produce a readier inference as well as a more compelling impulse. when a new candidate on his first appearance smiles at his constituents exactly as if he were an old friend, not only does he appeal, as i said in an earlier chapter, to an ancient and immediate instinct of human affection, but he produces at the same time a shadowy belief that he is an old friend; and his agent may even imply this, provided that he says nothing definite enough to arouse critical and rational attention. by the end of the meeting one can safely go as far as to call for three cheers for 'good old jones.'[ ] [ ] three-quarters of the art of the trained salesman depends upon his empirical knowledge of this group of psychological facts. a small girl of my acquaintance, explaining why she had brought back from her first independent shopping expedition a photograph frame which she herself found to be distressing, said: 'the shopman seemed to suppose i had chosen it, and so i paid for it and came away.' but her explanation was the result of memory and reflection. at the moment, in a shadowy way which was sufficient for the shopman, she supposed that she had chosen it. mr. g.k. chesterton some years ago quoted from a magazine article on american elections a sentence which said: 'a little sound common-sense often goes further with an audience of american working men than much high-flown argument. a speaker who, as he brought forward his points, hammered nails into a board, won hundreds of votes for his side at the last presidential election.'[ ] the 'sound common-sense' consisted, not, as mr. chesterton pretended to believe, in the presentation of the hammering as a logical argument, but in the orator's knowledge of the way in which force is given to non-logical inference and his willingness to use that knowledge. [ ] _heretics_, p. . when a vivid association has been once formed it sinks into the mass of our mental experience, and may then undergo developments and transformations with which deliberate ratiocination had very little to do. i have been told that when an english agitation against the importation of chinese contract labour into south africa was proposed, an important personage said that 'there was not a vote in it.' but the agitation was set on foot, and was based on a rational argument that the conditions enacted by the ordinance amounted to a rather cruel kind of slavery imposed upon unusually intelligent asiatics. any one, however, who saw much of politics in the winter of - must have noticed that the pictures of chinamen on the hoardings aroused among very many of the voters an immediate hatred of the mongolian racial type. this hatred was transferred to the conservative party, and towards the end of the general election of a picture of a chinaman thrown suddenly on a lantern screen before a working-class audience would have aroused an instantaneous howl of indignation against mr. balfour. after the election, however, the memory of the chinese faces on the posters tended slowly to identify itself, in the minds of the conservatives, with the liberals who had used them. i had at the general election worked in a constituency in which many such posters were displayed by my side, and where we were beaten. a year later i stood for the london county council in the same constituency. an hour before the close of the poll i saw, with the unnatural clearness of polling-day fatigue, a large white face at the window of the ward committee-room, while a hoarse voice roared: 'where's your bloody pigtail? we cut it off last time: and now we'll put it round your bloody neck and strangle you.' in february , during the county council election, there appeared on the london hoardings thousands of posters which were intended to create a belief that the progressive members on the council made their personal livelihood by defrauding the ratepayers. if a statement had been published to that effect it would have been an appeal to the critical intellect, and could have been met by argument, or in the law courts. but the appeal was made to the process of subconscious inference. the poster consisted of a picture of a man supposed to represent the progressive party, pointing a foreshortened finger and saying, with sufficient ambiguity to escape the law of libel: 'it's your money we want.' its effectiveness depended on its exploitation of the fact that most men judge of the truth of a charge of fraud by a series of rapid and unconscious inferences from the appearance of the man accused. the person represented was, if judged by the shape of his hat, the fashion of his watch-chain and ring, the neglected condition of his teeth, and the redness of his nose, obviously a professional sharper. he was, i believe, drawn by an american artist, and his face and clothes had a vaguely american appearance, which, in the region of subconscious association, further suggested to most onlookers the idea of tammany hall. this poster was brilliantly successful, but, now that the election is over, it, like the chinese pictures, seems likely to continue a career of irrational transference. one notices that one progressive evening paper uses a reduced copy of it whenever it wishes to imply that the moderates are influenced by improper pecuniary motives. i myself find that it tends to associate itself in my mind with the energetic politician who induced the railway companies and others to pay for it, and who, for all i know, may in his own personal appearance recall the best traditions of the english gentleman. writers on the 'psychology of the crowd' have pointed out the effect of excitement and numbers in substituting non-rational for rational inference. any cause, however, which prevents a man from giving full attention to his mental processes may produce the phenomena of non-rational inference in an extreme degree. i have often watched in some small sub-committee the method by which either of the two men with a real genius for committee work whom i know could control his colleagues. the process was most successful towards the end of an afternoon, when the members were tired and somewhat dazed with the effort of following a rapid talker through a mass of unfamiliar detail. if at that point the operator slightly quickened the flow of his information, and slightly emphasised the assumption that he was being thoroughly understood, he could put some at least of his colleagues into a sort of waking trance, in which they would have cheerfully assented to the proposition that the best means of securing, _e.g.,_ the permanence of private schools was a large and immediate increase in the number of public schools. it is sometimes argued that such non-rational inferences are merely the loose fringe of our political thinking, and that responsible decisions in politics, whether they are right or wrong, are always the result of conscious ratiocination. american political writers, for instance, of the traditional intellectualist type are sometimes faced with the fact that the delegates to national party conventions, when they select candidates and adopt programmes for presidential elections, are not in a condition in which they are likely to examine the logical validity of their own mental processes. such writers fall back on the reflection that the actual choice of president is decided not by excited conventions, but by voters coming straight from the untroubled sanctuary of the american home. president garfield illustrated this point of view in an often-quoted passage of his speech to the republican convention of :-- 'i have seen the sea lashed into fury and tossed into spray, and its grandeur moves the soul of the dullest man. but i remember that it is not the billows, but the calm level of the sea from which all heights and depths are measured.... not here, in this brilliant circle where fifteen thousand men and women are gathered, is the destiny of the republic to be decreed for the next four years ... but by four millions of republican firesides, where the thoughtful voters, with wives and children about them, with the calm thoughts inspired by love of home and country, with the history of the past, the hopes of the future, and knowledge of the great men who have adorned and blessed our nation in days gone by. there god prepares the verdict that shall determine the wisdom of our work to-night.'[ ] [ ] _life of j.a. garfield_, by r. h. conwell, p. . but the divine oracle, whether in america or in england, turns out, too often, only to be a tired householder, reading the headlines and personal paragraphs of his party newspaper, and half-consciously forming mental habits of mean suspicion or national arrogance. sometimes, indeed, during an election, one feels that it is, after all, in big meetings, where big thoughts can be given with all their emotional force, that the deeper things of politics have the best chance of recognition. the voter as he reads his newspaper may adopt by suggestion, and make habitual by repetition, not only political opinions but whole trains of political argument; and he does not necessarily feel the need of comparing them with other trains of argument already in his mind. a lawyer or a doctor will on quite general principles argue for the most extreme trade-unionism in his own profession, while he thoroughly agrees with a denunciation of trade-unionism addressed to him as a railway shareholder or ratepayer. the same audience can sometimes be led by way of 'parental rights' to cheer for denominational religious instruction, and by way of 'religious freedom' to hoot it. the most skilled political observer that i know, speaking of an organised newspaper attack, said, 'as far as i can make out every argument used in attack and in defence has its separate and independent effect. they hardly ever meet, even if they are brought to bear upon the same mind.' from the purely tactical point of view there is therefore much to be said for lord lyndhurst's maxim, 'never defend yourself before a popular assemblage, except with and by retorting the attack; the hearers, in the pleasure which the assault gives them, will forget the previous charge.'[ ] [ ] morley's _life of gladstone_, vol. i. p. . chapter iv the material of political reasoning but man is fortunately not wholly dependent in his political thinking upon those forms of inference by immediate association which come so easily to him, and which he shares with the higher brutes. the whole progress of human civilisation beyond its earliest stages has been made possible by the invention of methods of thought which enable us to interpret and forecast the working of nature more successfully than we could if we merely followed the line of least resistance in the use of our minds. these methods, however, when applied in politics, still represent a difficult and uncertain art rather than a science producing its effects with mechanical accuracy. when the great thinkers of greece laid down rules for valid reasoning, they had, it is true, the needs of politics specially in their minds. after the prisoners in plato's cave of illusion should be unbound by true philosophy it was to the service of the state that they were to devote themselves, and their first triumph was to be the control of passion by reason in the sphere of government. yet if plato could visit us now, he would learn that while our glass-makers proceed by rigorous and confident processes to exact results, our statesmen, like the glass-makers of ancient athens, still trust to empirical maxims and personal skill. why is it, he would ask us, that valid reasoning has proved to be so much more difficult in politics than in the physical sciences? our first answer might be found in the character of the material with which political reasoning has to deal. the universe which presents itself to our reason is the same as that which presents itself to our feelings and impulses--an unending stream of sensations and memories, every one of which is different from every other, and before which, unless we can select and recognise and simplify, we must stand helpless and unable either to act or think. man has therefore to create entities that shall be the material of his reasoning, just as he creates entities to be the objects of his emotions and the stimulus of his instinctive inferences. exact reasoning requires exact comparison, and in the desert or the forest there were few things which our ancestors could compare exactly. the heavenly bodies seem, indeed, to have been the first objects of consciously exact reasoning, because they were so distant that nothing could be known of them except position and movement, and their position and movement could be exactly compared from night to night. in the same way the foundation of the terrestrial sciences came from two discoveries, first, that it was possible to abstract single qualities, such as position and movement, in all things however unlike, from the other qualities of those things and to compare them exactly; and secondly, that it was possible artificially to create actual uniformities for the purpose of comparison, to make, that is to say, out of unlike things, things so like that valid inferences could be drawn as to their behaviour under like circumstances. geometry, for instance, came into the service of man when it was consciously realised that all units of land and water were exactly alike in so far as they were extended surfaces. metallurgy, on the other hand, only became a science when men could actually take two pieces of copper ore, unlike in shape and appearance and chemical constitution, and extract from them two pieces of copper so nearly alike that they would give the same results when treated in the same way. this second power over his material the student of politics can never possess. he can never create an artificial uniformity in man. he cannot, after twenty generations of education or breeding render even two human beings sufficiently like each other for him to prophesy with any approach to certainty that they will behave alike under like circumstances. how far has he the first power? how far can he abstract from the facts of man's state qualities in respect of which men are sufficiently comparable to allow of valid political reasoning? on april th, , a year before the taking of the bastille john adams, then american ambassador to england, and afterwards president of the united states, wrote to a friend describing the 'fermentation upon the subject of government' throughout europe. 'is government a science or not?' he describes men as asking. 'are there any principles on which it is founded? what are its ends? if indeed there is no rule, no standard, all must be accident and chance. if there is a standard, what is it?'[ ] [ ] _memoir of t. brand hollis_, by j. disney, p. . again and again in the history of political thought men have believed themselves to have found this 'standard,' this fact about man which should bear the same relation to politics which the fact that all things can be weighed bears to physics, and the fact that all things can be measured bears to geometry. some of the greatest thinkers of the past have looked for it in the final causes of man's existence. every man differed, it is true, from every other man, but these differences all seemed related to a type of perfect manhood which, though few men approached, and none attained it, all were capable of conceiving. may not, asked plato, this type be the pattern--the 'idea'--of man formed by god and laid up 'in a heavenly place'? if so, men would have attained to a valid science of politics when by careful reasoning and deep contemplation they had come to know that pattern. henceforward all the fleeting and varying things of sense would be seen in their due relation to the eternal and immutable purposes of god. or the relation of man to god's purpose was thought of not as that between the pattern and the copy, but as that between the mind of a legislator as expressed in enacted law, and the individual instance to which the law is applied. we can, thought locke, by reflecting on the moral facts of the world, learn god's law. that law confers on us certain rights which we can plead in the court of god, and from which a valid political science can be deduced. we know our rights with the same certainty that we know his law. 'men,' wrote locke, 'being all the workmanship of one omnipotent and infinitely wise maker, all the servants of one sovereign master, sent into the world by his order and about his business; they are his property whose workmanship they are, made to last during his, not one another's, pleasure: and being furnished with like faculties, sharing all in one community of nature, there cannot be supposed any such subordination among us that may authorise us to destroy another as if we were made for one another's uses as the inferior ranks of creatures are for ours.'[ ] [ ] locke, _second treatise of government_, , ed. , p. . when the leaders of the american revolution sought for certainty in their argument against george the third they too found it in the fact that men 'are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights.' rousseau and his french followers rested these rights on a presumed social contract. human rights stood upon that contract as the elephant upon the tortoise, though the contract itself, like the tortoise, was apt to stand upon nothing at all. at this point bentham, backed by the sense of humour of mankind, swept aside the whole conception of a science of politics deduced from natural right. 'what sort of a thing,' he asked, 'is a natural right, and where does the maker live, particularly in atheist's town, where they are most rife?'[ ] [ ] _escheat vice taxation_, bentham's works, vol. ii. p. . bentham himself believed that he had found the standard in the fact that all men seek pleasure and avoid pain. in that respect men were measurable and comparable. politics and jurisprudence could therefore be made experimental sciences in exactly the same sense as physics or chemistry. 'the present work,' wrote bentham, 'as well as any other work of mine that has been or will be published on the subject of legislation or any other branch of moral science, is an attempt to extend the experimental method of reasoning from the physical branch to the moral.'[ ] [ ] ms. in university college, london, quoted by halévy, _la jeunesse de bentham_, pp. - . bentham's standard of 'pleasure and pain' constituted in many ways an important advance upon 'natural right.' it was in the first place founded upon a universally accepted fact; all men obviously do feel both pleasure and pain. that fact was to a certain extent measurable. one could, for instance, count the number of persons who suffered this year from an indian famine, and compare it with the number of those who suffered last year. it was clear also that some pains and pleasures were more intense than others, and that therefore the same man could in a given number of seconds experience varying amounts of pleasure or pain. above all, the standard of pleasure and pain was one external to the political thinker himself. john stuart mill quotes bentham as saying of all philosophies which competed with his utilitarianism: 'they consist, all of them, in so many contrivances for avoiding the obligation of appealing to any external standard, and for prevailing upon the reader to accept the author's sentiment or opinion as a reason for itself.'[ ] [ ] bentham's _works_, vol. i. p. , quoted in lytton's _england and the english_ ( ), p. . this passage was written by mill, cf. preface. a 'benthamite,' therefore, whether he was a member of parliament like grote or molesworth, or an official like chadwick, or an organising politician like francis place, could always check his own feelings about 'rights of property,' 'mischievous agitators,' 'spirit of the constitution,' 'insults to the flag,' and so on, by examining statistical facts as to the numerical proportion, the income, the hours of work, and the death rate from disease, of the various classes and races who inhabited the british empire. but as a complete science of politics benthamism is no longer possible. pleasure and pain are indeed facts about human nature, but they are not the only facts which are important to the politician. the benthamites, by straining the meaning of words, tried to classify such motives as instinctive impulse, ancient tradition, habit, or personal and racial idiosyncrasy as being forms of pleasure and pain. but they failed; and the search for a basis of valid political reasoning has to begin again, among a generation more conscious than were bentham and his disciples of the complexity of the problem, and less confident of absolute success. in that search one thing at least is becoming clear. we must aim at finding as many relevant and measurable facts about human nature as possible, and we must attempt to make all of them serviceable in political reasoning. in collecting, that is to say, the material for a political science, we must adopt the method of the biologist, who tries to discover how many common qualities can be observed and measured in a group of related beings, rather than that of the physicist, who constructs, or used to construct, a science out of a single quality common to the whole material world. the facts when collected must, because they are many, be arranged. i believe that it would be found convenient by the political student to arrange them under three main heads: descriptive facts as to the human type; quantitative facts as to inherited variations from that type observed either in individuals or groups of individuals; and facts, both quantitative and descriptive, as to the environment into which men are born, and the observed effect of that environment upon their political actions and impulses. a medical student already attempts to master as many as possible of those facts about the human type that are relevant to his science. the descriptive facts, for instance, of typical human anatomy alone which he has to learn before he can hope to pass his examinations must number many thousands. if he is to remember them so that he can use them in practice, they must be carefully arranged in associated groups. he may find, for instance, that he remembers the anatomical facts about the human eye most easily and correctly by associating them with their evolutionary history, or the facts about the bones of the hand by associating them with the visual image of a hand in an x-ray photograph. the quantitative facts as to variations from the anatomical human type are collected for him in statistical form, and he makes an attempt to acquire the main facts as to hygienic environment when and if he takes the diploma of public health. the student teacher, too, during his period of training acquires a series of facts about the human type, though in his case they are as yet far less numerous, less accurate and less conveniently arranged than those in the medical text-books. if the student of politics followed such an arrangement, he would at least begin his course by mastering a treatise on psychology, containing all those facts about the human type which have been shown by experience to be helpful in politics, and so arranged that the student's knowledge could be most easily recalled when wanted. at present, however, the politician who is trained for his work by reading the best-known treatises on political theory is still in the condition of the medical student trained by the study of hippocrates or galen. he is taught a few isolated, and therefore distorted, facts about the human type, about pleasure and pain, perhaps, and the association of ideas, or the influence of habit. he is told that these are selected from the other facts of human nature in order that he may think clearly on the hypothesis of there being no others. what the others may be he is left to discover for himself; but he is likely to assume that they cannot be the subject of effective scientific thought. he learns also a few empirical maxims about liberty and caution and the like, and, after he has read a little of the history of institutions, his political education is complete. it is no wonder that the average layman prefers old politicians, who have forgotten their book-learning, and young doctors who remember theirs.[ ] [ ] in the winter of - i happened, on different occasions, to discuss the method of approaching political science with two young oxford students. in each case i suggested that it would be well to read a little psychology. each afterwards told me that he had consulted his tutor and had been told that psychology was 'useless' or 'nonsense.' one tutor, a man of real intellectual distinction, was said to have added the curiously scholastic reason that psychology was 'neither science nor philosophy.' a political thinker so trained is necessarily apt to preserve the conception of human nature which he learnt in his student days in a separate and sacred compartment of his mind, into which the facts of experience, however laboriously and carefully gathered, are not permitted to enter. professor ostrogorski published, for instance, in , an important and extraordinarily interesting book on _democracy and the organisation of political parties_, containing the results of fifteen years' close observation of the party system in america and england. the instances given in the book might have been used as the basis of a fairly full account of those facts in the human type which are of importance to the politician--the nature of our impulses, the necessary limitations of our contact with the external world, and the methods of that thinking brain which was evolved in our distant past, and which we have now to put to such new and strange uses. but no indication was given that professor ostrogorski's experience had altered in the least degree the conception of human nature with which he started. the facts observed are throughout regretfully contrasted with 'free reason,'[ ] 'the general idea of liberty,'[ ] 'the sentiments which inspired the men of ,'[ ] and the book ends with a sketch of a proposed constitution in which the voters are to be required to vote for candidates known to them through declarations of policy 'from which all mention of party is rigorously excluded.'[ ] one seems to be reading a series of conscientious observations of the copernican heavens by a loyal but saddened believer in the ptolemaic astronomy. [ ] _passim_, e.g., vol. ii. p. . [ ] _ibid_., p. . [ ] _ibid_., p. . [ ] _ibid_., p. . professor ostrogorski was a distinguished member of the constitutional democratic party in the first duma of nicholas ii., and must have learnt for himself that if he and his fellows were to get force enough behind them to contend on equal terms with the russian autocracy they must be a party, trusted and obeyed as a party, and not a casual collection of free individuals. some day the history of the first duma will be written, and we shall then know whether professor ostrogorski's experience and his faith were at last fused together in the heat of that great struggle. the english translation of professor ostrogorski's book is prefaced by an introduction from mr. james bryce. this introduction shows that even in the mind of the author of _the american constitution_ the conception of human nature which he learnt at oxford still dwells apart. 'in the ideal democracy,' says mr. bryce, 'every citizen is intelligent, patriotic, disinterested. his sole wish is to discover the right side in each contested issue, and to fix upon the best man among competing candidates. his common sense, aided by a knowledge of the constitution of his country, enables him to judge wisely between the arguments submitted to him, while his own zeal is sufficient to carry him to the polling booth.'[ ] [ ] ostrogorski, vol. i. p. xliv. a few lines further on mr. bryce refers to 'the democratic ideal of the intelligent independence of the individual voter, an ideal far removed from the actualities of any state.' what does mr. bryce mean by 'ideal democracy'? if it means anything it means the best form of democracy which is consistent with the facts of human nature. but one feels, on reading the whole passage, that mr. bryce means by those words the kind of democracy which might be possible if human nature were as he himself would like it to be, and as he was taught at oxford to think that it was. if so, the passage is a good instance of the effect of our traditional course of study in politics. no doctor would now begin a medical treatise by saying, 'the ideal man requires no food, and is impervious to the action of bacteria, but this ideal is far removed from the actualities of any known population.' no modern treatise on pedagogy begins with the statement that 'the ideal boy knows things without being taught them, and his sole wish is the advancement of science, but no boys at all like this have ever existed.' and what, in a world where causes have effects and effects causes, does 'intelligent independence' mean? mr. herman merivale, successively professor of political economy at oxford, under-secretary for the colonies, and under-secretary for india, wrote in : 'to retain or to abandon a dominion is not an issue which will ever be determined on the mere balance of profit and loss, or on the more refined but even less powerful motives supplied by abstract political philosophy. the sense of national honour; the pride of blood, the tenacious spirit of self-defence, the sympathies of kindred communities, the instincts of a dominant race, the vague but generous desire to spread our civilisation and our religion over the world; these are impulses which the student in his closet may disregard, but the statesman dares not....'[ ] [ ] herman merivale, _colonisation_, , nd edition. the book is a re-issue, largely re-written, of lectures given at oxford in . the passage quoted forms part of the additions, p. . what does 'abstract political philosophy' here mean? no medical writer would speak of an 'abstract' anatomical science in which men have no livers, nor would he add that though the student in his closet may disregard the existence of the liver the working physician dares not. apparently merivale means the same thing by 'abstract' political philosophy that mr. bryce means by 'ideal' democracy. both refer to a conception of human nature constructed in all good faith by certain eighteenth-century philosophers, which is now no longer exactly believed in, but which, because nothing else has taken its place, still exercises a kind of shadowy authority in a hypothetical universe. the fact that this or that writer speaks of a conception of human nature in which he is ceasing to believe as 'abstract' or 'ideal' may seem to be of merely academic interest. but such half-beliefs produce immense practical effects. because merivale saw that the political philosophy which his teachers studied in their closets was inadequate, and because he had nothing to substitute for it, he frankly abandoned any attempt at valid thought on so difficult a question as the relation of the white colonies to the rest of the british empire. he therefore decided in effect that it ought to be settled by the rule-of-thumb method of 'cutting the painter'; and, since he was the chief official in the colonial office at a critical time, his decision, whether it was right or wrong, was not unimportant. mr. bryce has been perhaps prevented by the presence in his mind of such a half-belief from making that constructive contribution to general political science for which he is better equipped than any other man of his time. 'i am myself,' he says in the same introduction, 'an optimist, almost a professional optimist, as indeed politics would be intolerable were not a man grimly resolved to see between the clouds all the blue sky he can.'[ ] imagine an acknowledged leader in chemical research who, finding that experiment did not bear out some traditional formula, should speak of himself as nevertheless 'grimly resolved' to see things from the old and comfortable point of view! [ ] _loc. cit._, p. xliii. the next step in the course of political training which i am advocating would be the quantitative study of the inherited variations of individual men when compared with the 'normal' or 'average' man who had so far served for the study of the type. how is the student to approach this part of the course? every man differs quantitatively from every other man in respect of every one of his qualities. the student obviously cannot carry in his mind or use for the purposes of thought all the variations even of a single inherited quality which are to be found among the fifteen hundred millions or so of human beings who even at any one moment are in existence. much less can he ascertain or remember the inter-relation of thousands of inherited qualities in the past history of a race in which individuals are at every moment dying and being born. mr. h.g. wells faces this fact in that extremely stimulating essay on 'scepticism of the instrument,' which he has appended to his _modern utopia_. his answer is that the difficulty is 'of the very smallest importance in all the practical affairs of life, or indeed in relation to anything but philosophy and wide generalisations. but in philosophy it matters profoundly. if i order two new-laid eggs for breakfast, up come two unhatched but still unique avian individuals, and the chances are they serve my rude physiological purpose.'[ ] [ ] _a modern utopia_, p. . to the politician, however, the uniqueness of the individual is of enormous importance, not only when he is dealing with 'philosophy and wide generalisations' but in the practical affairs of his daily activity. even the fowl-breeder does not simply ask for 'two eggs' to put under a hen when he is trying to establish a new variety, and the politician, who is responsible for actual results in an amazingly complicated world, has to deal with more delicate distinctions than the breeder. a statesman who wants two private secretaries, or two generals, or two candidates likely to receive equally enthusiastic support from nonconformists and trade-unionists, does not ask for 'two men.' on this point, however, most writers on political science seem to suggest that after they have described human nature as if all men were in all respects equal to the average man, and have warned their readers of the inexactness of their description, they can do no more. all knowledge of individual variations must be left to individual experience. john stuart mill, for instance, in the section on the logic of the moral sciences at the end of his _system of logic_ implies this, and seems also to imply that any resulting inexactness in the political judgments and forecasts made by students and professors of politics does not involve a large element of error. 'excepting,' he says, 'the degree of uncertainty, which still exists as to the extent of the natural differences of individual minds, and the physical circumstances on which these may be dependent, (considerations which are of secondary importance when we are considering mankind in the average or _en masse_), i believe most competent judges will agree that the general laws of the different constituent elements of human nature are even now sufficiently understood to render it possible for a competent thinker to deduce from those laws, with a considerable approach to certainty, the particular type of character which would be formed, in mankind generally, by any assumed set of circumstances.'[ ] [ ] _system of logic_, book vi. vol. ii. ( ), p. . few people nowadays would be found to share mill's belief. it is just because we feel ourselves unable to deduce with any 'approach to certainty' the effect of circumstances upon character, that we all desire to obtain, if it is possible, a more exact idea of human variation than can be arrived at by thinking of mankind 'in the average or _en masse_.' fortunately the mathematical students of biology, of whom professor karl pearson is the most distinguished leader, are already showing us that facts of inherited variation can be so arranged that we can remember them without having to get by heart millions of isolated instances. professor pearson and the other writers in the periodical _biometrika_ have measured innumerable beech leaves, snails' tongues, human skulls, etc. etc., and have recorded in each case the variations of any quality in a related group of individuals by that which professor pearson calls an 'observation frequency polygon,' but which i, in my own thinking, find that i call (from a vague memory of its shape) a 'cocked hat.' here is a tracing of such a figure, founded on the actual measurement of , recruits for the united states army. [illustration: [transcriber's description: a line graph of number of recruits vs. height. the horizontal axis is ac, and the line itself is abc, which is roughly normal.]] the line _abc_ records, by its distance at successive points from the line _ac_, the number of recruits reaching successive inches of height. it shows, e.g. (as indicated by the dotted lines) that the number of recruits between ft. in. and ft. was about , and the number of those between ft. in. and ft. in. about .[ ] [ ] this figure is adapted (by the kind permission of the publishers) from one given in professor k. pearson's _chances of death_, vol. i. p. . for the relation between such records of actual observation and the curves resulting from mathematical calculation of known causes of variation, see _ibid._, chap, viii., the paper by the same author on 'contributions to the mathematical theory of evolution,' in vol. (a) of the _royal society's philosophical transactions_ ( ), and the chapters on evolution in his _grammar of science_, nd edition. such figures, when they simply record the results of the fact that the likeness of the offspring to the parent in evolution is constantly inexact, are (like the records of other cases of 'chance' variation) fairly symmetrical, the greatest number of instances being found at the mean, and the descending curves of those above and those below the mean corresponding pretty closely with each other. boot manufacturers, as the result of experience, construct in effect such a curve, making a large number of boots of the sizes which in length or breadth are near the mean, and a symmetrically diminishing number of the sizes above and below it. in the next chapter i shall deal with the use in reasoning of such curves, either actually 'plotted' or roughly imagined. in this chapter i point out, firstly, that they can be easily remembered (partly because our visual memory is extremely retentive of the image made by a black line on a white surface) and that we can in consequence carry in our minds the quantitative facts as to a number of variations enormously beyond the possibility of memory if they were treated as isolated instances; and secondly, that we can by imagining such curves form a roughly accurate idea of the character of the variations to be expected as to any inherited quality among groups of individuals not yet born or not yet measured. the third and last division under which knowledge of man can be arranged for the purposes of political study consists of the facts of man's environment, and of the effect of environment upon his character and actions. it is the extreme instability and uncertainty of this element which constitutes the special difficulty of politics. the human type and the quantitative distribution of its variations are for the politician, who deals with a few generations only, practically permanent. man's environment changes with ever-increasing rapidity. the inherited nature of every human being varies indeed from that of every other, but the relative frequency of the most important variations can be forecasted for each generation. the difference, on the other hand, between one man's environment and that of other men can be arranged on no curve and remembered or forecasted by no expedient. buckle, it is true, attempted to explain the present and prophesy the future intellectual history of modern nations by the help of a few generalisations as to the effect of that small fraction of their environment which consisted of climate. but buckle failed, and no one has attacked the problem again with anything like his confidence. we can, of course, see that in the environment of any nation or class at any given time there are some facts which constitute for all its members a common experience, and therefore a common influence. climate is such a fact, or the discovery of america, or the invention of printing, or the rates of wages and prices. all nonconformists are influenced by their memory of certain facts of which very few churchmen are aware, and all irishmen by facts which most englishmen try to forget. the student of politics must therefore read history, and particularly the history of those events and habits of thought in the immediate past which are likely to influence the generation in which he will work. but he must constantly be on his guard against the expectation that his reading will give him much power of accurate forecast. where history shows him that such and such an experiment has succeeded or failed he must always attempt to ascertain how far success or failure was due to facts of the human type, which he may assume to have persisted into his own time, and how far to facts of environment. when he can show that failure was due to the ignoring of some fact of the type and can state definitely what that fact is, he will be able to attach a real meaning to the repeated and unheeded maxims by which the elder members of any generation warn the younger that their ideas are 'against human nature.' but if it is possible that the cause was one of mental environment, that is to say, of habit or tradition, or memory, he should be constantly on his guard against generalisations about national or racial 'character.' one of the most fertile sources of error in modern political thinking consists, indeed, in the ascription to collective habit of that comparative permanence which only belongs to biological inheritance. a whole science can be based upon easy generalisations about celts and teutons, or about east and west, and the facts from which the generalisations are drawn may all disappear in a generation. national habits used to change slowly in the past, because new methods of life were seldom invented and only gradually introduced, and because the means of communicating ideas between man and man or nation and nation were extremely imperfect; so that a true statement about a national habit might, and probably would, remain true for centuries. but now an invention which may produce profound changes in social or industrial life is as likely to be taken up with enthusiasm in some country on the other side of the globe as in the place of its origin. a statesman who has anything important to say says it to an audience of five hundred millions next morning, and great events like the battle of the sea of japan begin to produce their effects thousands of miles off within a few hours of their happening. enough has already occurred under these new conditions to show that the unchanging east may to-morrow enter upon a period of revolution, and that english indifference to ideas or french military ambition are habits which, under a sufficiently extended stimulus, nations can shake off as completely as can individual men. chapter v the method of political reasoning the traditional method of political reasoning has inevitably shared the defects of its subject-matter. in thinking about politics we seldom penetrate behind those simple entities which form themselves so easily in our minds, or approach in earnest the infinite complexity of the actual world. political abstractions, such as justice, or liberty, or the state, stand in our minds as things having a real existence. the names of political species, 'governments,' or 'rights,' or 'irishmen,' suggest to us the idea of single 'type specimens'; and we tend, like medieval naturalists, to assume that all the individual members of a species are in all respects identical with the type specimen and with each other. in politics a true proposition in the form of 'all a is b' almost invariably means that a number of individual persons or things possess the quality b in degrees of variation as numerous as are the individuals themselves. we tend, however, under the influence of our words and the mental habits associated with them to think of a either as a single individual possessing the quality b, or as a number of individuals equally possessing that quality. as we read in the newspaper that 'the educated bengalis are disaffected' we either see, in the half-conscious substratum of visual images which accompanies our reading, a single babu with a disaffected expression or the vague suggestion of a long row of identical babus all equally disaffected. these personifications and uniformities, in their turn, tempt us to employ in our political thinking that method of _a priori_ deduction from large and untried generalisations against which natural science from the days of bacon has always protested. no scientist now argues that the planets move in circles, because planets are perfect, and the circle is a perfect figure, or that any newly discovered plant must be a cure for some disease because nature has given healing properties to all plants. but 'logical' democrats still argue in america that, because all men are equal, political offices ought to go by rotation, and 'logical' collectivists sometimes argue from the 'principle' that the state should own all the means of production to the conclusion that all railway managers should be elected by universal suffrage. in natural science, again, the conception of the plurality and interaction of causes has become part of our habitual mental furniture; but in politics both the book-learned student and the man in the street may be heard to talk as if each result had only one cause. if the question, for instance, of the anglo-japanese alliance is raised, any two politicians, whether they are tramps on the outskirts of a hyde park crowd or heads of colleges writing to the _times_, are not unlikely to argue, one, that all nations are suspicious, and that therefore the alliance must certainly fail, and the other that all nations are guided by their interests, and that therefore the alliance must certainly succeed. the landlord of the 'rainbow' in _silas marner_ had listened to many thousands of political discussions before he adopted his formula, 'the truth lies atween you: you're both right and both wrong, as i allays say.' in economics the danger of treating abstract and uniform words as if they were equivalent to abstract and uniform things has now been recognised for the last half century. when this recognition began, it was objected by the followers of the 'classical' political economy that abstraction was a necessary condition of thought, and that all dangers arising from it would be avoided if we saw clearly what it was that we were doing. bagehot, who stood at the meeting-point of the old economics and the new, wrote about :-- 'political economy ... is an abstract science, just as statics and dynamics are deductive sciences. and in consequence, it deals with an unreal and imaginary subject, ... not with the entire real man as we know him in fact, but with a simpler imaginary man....'[ ] [ ] _economic studies_ (longmans, ), p. . he goes on to urge that the real and complex man can be depicted by printing on our minds a succession of different imaginary simple men. 'the maxim of science,' he says, 'is that of common-sense--simple cases first; begin with seeing how the main force acts when there is as little as possible to impede it, and when you thoroughly comprehend that, add to it in succession the separate effects of each of the encumbering and interfering agencies.'[ ] [ ] _ibid._, p. . but this process of mental chromolithography, though it is sometimes a good way of learning a science, is not a way of using it; and bagehot gives no indication how his complex picture of man, formed from successive layers of abstraction, is to be actually employed in forecasting economic results. when jevons published his _theory of political economy_ in , it was already widely felt that a simple imaginary man, or even a composite picture made up of a series of different simple imaginary men, although useful in answering examination questions, was of very little use in drafting a factory act or arbitrating on a sliding scale of wages. jevons therefore based his economic method upon the variety and not the uniformity of individual instances. he arranged the hours of labour in a working day, or the units of satisfaction from spending money, on curves of increase and decrease, and employed mathematical methods to indicate the point where one curve, whether representing an imaginary estimate or a record of ascertained facts, would cut the others to the best advantage. here was something which corresponded, however roughly, to the process by which practical people arrive at practical and responsible results. a railway manager who wishes to discover the highest rate of charges which his traffic will bear is not interested if he is told that the rate when fixed will have been due to the law that all men seek to obtain wealth with as little effort as possible, modified in its working by men's unwillingness to break an established business habit. he wants a method which, instead of merely providing him with a verbal 'explanation' of what has happened, will enable him to form a quantitative estimate of what under given circumstances will happen. he can, however, and, i believe, now often does, use the jevonian method to work out definite results in half-pennies and tons from the intersection of plotted curves recording actual statistics of rates and traffic. since jevons's time the method which he initiated has been steadily extended; economic and statistical processes have become more nearly assimilated, and problems of fatigue or acquired skill, of family affection and personal thrift, of management by the _entrepreneur_ or the paid official, have been stated and argued in quantitative form. as professor marshall said the other day, _qualitative_ reasoning in economics is passing away and _quantitative_ reasoning is beginning to take its place.[ ] [ ] _journal of economics_, march , pp. and . 'what by chemical analogy may be called qualitative analysis has done the greater part of its work.... much less progress has indeed been made towards the quantitative determination of the relative strength of different economic forces. that higher and more difficult task must wait upon the slow growth of thorough realistic statistics.' how far is a similar change of method possible in the discussion not of industrial and financial processes but of the structure and working of political institutions? it is of course easy to pick out political questions which can obviously be treated by quantitative methods. one may take, for instance, the problem of the best size for a debating hall, to be used, say, by the federal deliberative assembly of the british empire--assuming that the shape is already settled. the main elements of the problem are that the hall should be large enough to accommodate with dignity a number of members sufficient both for the representation of interests and the carrying out of committee work, and not too large for each member to listen without strain to a debate. the resultant size will represent a compromise among these elements, accommodating a number smaller than would be desirable if the need of representation and dignity alone were to be considered, and larger than it would be if the convenience of debate alone were considered. a body of economists could agree to plot out or imagine a succession of 'curves' representing the advantage to be obtained from each additional unit of size in dignity, adequacy of representation, supply of members for committee work, healthiness, etc., and the disadvantage of each additional unit of size as affecting convenience of debate, etc. the curves of dignity and adequacy might be the result of direct estimation. the curve of marginal convenience in audibility would be founded upon actual 'polygons of variation' recording measurements of the distance at which a sufficient number of individuals of the classes and ages expected could hear and make themselves heard in a room of that shape. the economists might further, after discussion, agree on the relative importance of each element to the final decision, and might give effect to their agreement by the familiar statistical device of 'weighting.' the answer would perhaps provide fourteen square feet on the floor in a room twenty-six feet high for each of three hundred and seventeen members. there would, when the answer was settled, be a 'marginal' man in point of hearing (representing, perhaps, an average healthy man of seventy-four), who would be unable or just able to hear the 'marginal' man in point of clearness of speech--who might represent (on a polygon specially drawn up by the oxford professor of biology) the least audible but two of the tutors at balliol. the marginal point on the curve of the decreasing utility of successive increments of members from the point of view of committee work might show, perhaps, that such work must either be reduced to a point far below that which is usual in national parliaments, or must be done very largely by persons not members of the assembly itself. the aesthetic curve of dignity might be cut at the point where the president of the society of british architects could just be induced not to write to the _times_. any discussion which took place on such lines, even although the curves were mere forms of speech, would be real and practical. instead of one man reiterating that the parliament hall of a great empire ought to represent the dignity of its task, and another man answering that a debating assembly which cannot debate is of no use, both would be forced to ask 'how much dignity'? and 'how much debating convenience'? as it is, this particular question seems often to be settled by the architect, who is deeply concerned with aesthetic effect, and not at all concerned with debating convenience. the reasons that he gives in his reports seem convincing, because the other considerations are not in the minds of the building committee, who think of one element only of the problem at a time and make no attempt to co-ordinate all the elements. otherwise it would be impossible to explain the fact that the debating hall, for instance, of the house of representatives at washington is no more fitted for debates carried on by human beings than would a spoon ten feet broad be fitted for the eating of soup. the able leaders of the national congress movement in india made the same mistake in , when they arranged, with their minds set only on the need of an impressive display, that difficult and exciting questions of tactics should be discussed by about fifteen hundred delegates in a huge tent, and in the presence of a crowd of nearly ten thousand spectators. i am afraid that it is not unlikely that the london county council may also despise the quantitative method of reasoning on such questions, and may find themselves in provided with a new hall admirably adapted to illustrate the dignity of london and the genius of their architect, but unfitted for any other purpose. nor is the essence of the quantitative method changed when the answer is to be found, not in one, but in several 'unknown quantities.' take, for instance, the question as to the best types of elementary school to be provided in london. if it were assumed that only one type of school was to be provided, the problem would be stated in the same form as that of the size of the debating hall. but it is possible in most london districts to provide within easy walking distance of every child four or five schools of different types, and the problem becomes that of so choosing a limited number of types as to secure that the degree of 'misfit' between child and curriculum shall be as small as possible. if we treat the general aptitude (or 'cleverness') of the children as differing only by more or less, the problem becomes one of fitting the types of school to a fairly exactly ascertainable polygon of intellectual variation. it might appear then that the best results would come from the provision, say, of five types of schools providing respectively for the per cent, of greatest natural cleverness, the succeeding per cent., the intermediate per cent., the comparatively sub-normal per cent., and the per cent, of 'mentally deficient.' that is to say the local authority would have to provide in that proportion secondary, higher grade, ordinary, sub-normal, and mentally deficient schools. a general improvement in nutrition and other home circumstances might tend to 'steepen' the polygon of variation, i.e. to bring more children near the normal, or it might increase the number of children with exceptional inherited cleverness who were able to reveal that fact, and so 'flatten' it; and either case might make a change desirable in the best proportion between the types of schools or even in the number of the types. it would be more difficult to induce a committee of politicians to agree on the plotting of curves, representing the social advantage to be obtained by the successive increments of satisfaction in an urban industrial population of those needs which are indicated by the terms socialism and individualism. they could, however, be brought to admit that the discovery of curves for that purpose is a matter of observation and inquiry, and that the best possible distribution of social duties between the individual and the state would cut both at some point or other. for many socialists and individualists the mere attempt to think in such a way of their problem would be an extremely valuable exercise. if a socialist and an individualist were required even to ask themselves the question, 'how much socialism'? or 'how much individualism'? a basis of real discussion would be arrived at--even in the impossible case that one should answer, 'all individualism and no socialism,' and the other, 'all socialism and no individualism.' the fact, of course, that each step towards either socialism or individualism changes the character of the other elements in the problem, or the fact that an invention like printing, or representative government, or civil service examinations, or the utilitarian philosophy, may make it possible to provide greatly increased satisfaction both to socialist and individualist desires, complicates the question, but does not alter its quantitative character. the essential point is that in every case in which a political thinker is able to adopt what professor marshall calls the quantitative method of reasoning, his vocabulary and method, instead of constantly suggesting a false simplicity, warn him that every individual instance with which he deals is different from any other, that any effect is a function of many variable causes, and, therefore, that no estimate of the result of any act can be accurate unless all its conditions and their relative importance are taken into account. but how far are such quantitative methods possible when a statesman is dealing, neither with an obviously quantitative problem, like the building of halls or schools, nor with an attempt to give quantitative meaning to abstract terms like socialism or individualism, but with the enormous complexity of responsible legislation? in approaching this question we shall be helped if we keep before us a description of the way in which some one statesman has, in fact, thought of a great constitutional problem. take, for instance, the indications which mr. morley gives of the thinking done by gladstone on home rule during the autumn and winter of - . gladstone, we are told, had already, for many years past, pondered anxiously at intervals about ireland, and now he describes himself as 'thinking incessantly about the matter' (vol. iii. p. ), and 'preparing myself by study and reflection' (p. ). he has first to consider the state of feeling in england and ireland, and to calculate to what extent and under what influences it may be expected to change. as to english feeling, 'what i expect,' he says, 'is a healthy slow fermentation in many minds working towards the final product' (p. ). the irish desire for self-government, on the other hand, will not change, and must be taken, within the time-limit of his problem, as 'fixed' (p. ). in both england and ireland, however, he believes that 'mutual attachment' may grow (p. ). before making up his mind in favour of some kind of home rule, he examines every thinkable alternative, especially the development of irish county government, or a federal arrangement in which all three of the united kingdoms would be concerned. here and there he finds suggestions in the history of austria-hungary, of norway and sweden, or of the 'colonial type' of government. nearly every day he reads burke, and exclaims 'what a magazine of wisdom on ireland and america' (p. ). he gets much help from 'a chapter on semi-sovereign assemblies in dicey's _law of the constitution_ (p. ). he tries to see the question from fresh points of view in intimate personal discussions, and by imagining what 'the civilised world' (p. ) will think. as he gets nearer to his subject, he has definite statistical reports made for him by 'welby and hamilton on the figures' (p. ), has 'stiff conclaves about finance and land' (p. ), and nearly comes to a final split with parnell on the question whether the irish contribution to imperial taxation shall be a fifteenth or a twentieth. time and persons are important factors in his calculation. if lord salisbury will consent to introduce some measure of irish self-government, the problem will be fundamentally altered, and the same will happen if the general election produces a liberal majority independent of both irish and conservatives; and mr. morley describes as underlying all his calculations 'the irresistible attraction for him of all the grand and eternal commonplaces of liberty and self-government' (p. ). it is not likely that mr. morley's narrative touches on more than a fraction of the questions which must have been in gladstone's mind during these months of incessant thought. no mention is made, for instance, of religion, or of the military position, or of the permanent possibility of enforcing the proposed restrictions on self-government. but enough is given to show the complexity of political thought at that stage when a statesman, still uncommitted, is considering what will be the effect of a new political departure. what then was the logical process by which gladstone's final decision was arrived at? did he for instance deal with a succession of simple problems or with one complex problem? it is, i think, clear that from time to time isolated and comparatively simple trains of reasoning were followed up; but it is also clear that gladstone's main effort of thought was involved in the process of co-ordinating all the laboriously collected contents of his mind onto the whole problem. this is emphasised by a quotation in which mr. morley, who was closely associated with gladstone's intellectual toil during this period, indicates his own recollection. 'historians,' he quotes from professor gardiner, 'coolly dissect a man's thoughts as they please; and label them like specimens in a naturalist's cabinet. such a thing, they argue, was done for mere personal aggrandisement; such a thing for national objects, such a thing from high religious motives. in real life we may be sure it was not so' (p. ). and it is clear that in spite of the ease and delight with which gladstone's mind moved among 'the eternal commonplaces of liberty and self-government,' he is seeking throughout for a quantitative solution. 'home rule' is no simple entity for him. he realises that the number of possible schemes for irish government is infinite, and he attempts to make at every point in his own scheme a delicate adjustment between many varying forces. a large part of this work of complex co-ordination was apparently in mr. gladstone's case unconscious. throughout the chapters one has the feeling--which any one who has had to make less important political decisions can parallel from his own experience--that gladstone was waiting for indications of a solution to appear in his mind. he was conscious of his effort, conscious also that his effort was being directed simultaneously towards many different considerations, but largely unconscious of the actual process of inference, which went on perhaps more rapidly when he was asleep, or thinking of something else, than when he was awake and attentive. a phrase of mr. morley's indicates a feeling with which every politician is familiar. 'the reader,' he says,'knows in what direction the main current of mr. gladstone's thought must have been setting' (p. ). that is to say, we are watching an operation rather of art than of science, of long experience and trained faculty rather than of conscious method. but the history of human progress consists in the gradual and partial substitution of science for art, of the power over nature acquired in youth by study, for that which comes in late middle age as the half-conscious result of experience. our problem therefore involves the further question, whether those forms of political thought which correspond to the complexity of nature are teachable or not? at present they are not often taught. in every generation thousands of young men and women are attracted to politics because their intellects are keener, and their sympathies wider than those of their fellows. they become followers of liberalism or imperialism, of scientific socialism or the rights of men or women. to them, at first, liberalism and the empire, rights and principles, are real and simple things. or, like shelley, they see in the whole human race an infinite repetition of uniform individuals, the 'millions on millions' who 'wait, firm, rapid, and elate.'[ ] [ ] shelley, _poetical works_ (h.b. forman), vol. iv. p. . about all these things they argue by the old _a priori_ methods which we have inherited with our political language. but after a time a sense of unreality grows upon them. knowledge of the complex and difficult world forces itself into their minds. like the old chartists with whom i once spent an evening, they tell you that their politics have been 'all talk'--all words--and there are few among them, except those to whom politics has become a profession or a career, who hold on until through weariness and disappointment they learn new confidence from new knowledge. most men, after the first disappointment, fall back on habit or party spirit for their political opinions and actions. having ceased to think of their unknown fellow citizens as uniform repetitions of a simple type, they cease to think of them at all; and content themselves with using party phrases about the mass of mankind, and realising the individual existence of their casual neighbours. wordsworth's _prelude_ describes with pathetic clearness a mental history, which must have been that of many thousands of men who could not write great poetry, and whose moral and intellectual forces have been blunted and wasted by political disillusionment. he tells us that the 'man' whom he loved in , when the french revolution was still at its dawn, was seen in to be merely 'the composition of the brain.' after agonies of despair and baffled affection, he saw 'the individual man ... the man whom we behold with our own eyes.'[ ] but in that change from a false simplification of the whole to the mere contemplation of the individual, wordsworth's power of estimating political forces or helping in political progress was gone for ever. [ ] _the prelude_, bk. xiii., ll. - . if this constantly repeated disappointment is to cease, quantitative method must spread in politics and must transform the vocabulary and the associations of that mental world into which the young politician enters. fortunately such a change seems at least to be beginning. every year larger and more exact collections of detailed political facts are being accumulated; and collections of detailed facts, if they are to be used at all in political reasoning, must be used quantitatively. the intellectual work of preparing legislation, whether carried on by permanent officials or royal commissions or cabinet ministers takes every year a more quantitative and a less qualitative form. compare for instance the methods of the present commission on the poor law with those of the celebrated and extraordinarily able commission which drew up the new poor law in - . the argument of the earlier commissioners' report runs on lines which it would be easy to put in _a priori_ syllogistic form. all men seek pleasure and avoid pain. society ought to secure that pain attaches to anti-social, and pleasure to social conduct. this may be done by making every man's livelihood and that of his children normally dependent upon his own exertions, by separating those destitute persons who cannot do work useful to the community from those who can, and by presenting these last with the alternative of voluntary effort or painful restriction. this leads to 'a principle which we find universally admitted, even by those whose practice is at variance with it, that the situation [of the pauper] on the whole shall not be made really or apparently so eligible as the situation of the independent labourer of the lowest class.'[ ] the _a priori_ argument is admirably illustrated by instances, reported by the sub-commissioners or given in evidence before the commission, indicating that labouring men will not exert themselves unless they are offered the alternative of starvation or rigorous confinement, though no attempt is made to estimate the proportion of the working population of england whose character and conduct is represented by each instance. [ ] _first report of the poor law commission_, (reprinted ), p. . this _a priori_ deduction, illustrated, but not proved by particular instances, is throughout so clear and so easily apprehended by the ordinary man that the revolutionary bill of , which affected all sorts of vested interests, passed the house of commons by a majority of four to one and the house of lords by a majority of six to one. the poor law commission of , on the other hand, though it contains many members trained in the traditions of , is being driven, by the mere necessity of dealing with the mass of varied evidence before it, onto new lines. instead of assuming half consciously that human energy is dependent solely on the working of the human will in the presence of the ideas of pleasure and pain, the commissioners are forced to tabulate and consider innumerable quantitative observations relating to the very many factors affecting the will of paupers and possible paupers. they cannot, for instance, avoid the task of estimating the relative industrial effectiveness of health, which depends upon decent surroundings; of hope, which may be made possible by state provision for old age; and of the imaginative range which is the result of education; and of comparing all these with the 'purely economic' motive created by ideas of future pleasure and pain. the evidence before the commission is, that is to say, collected not to illustrate general propositions otherwise established, but to provide quantitative answers to quantitative questions; and instances are in each case accumulated according to a well-known statistical rule until the repetition of results shows that further accumulation would be useless. in it was enough, in dealing with the political machinery of the poor law, to argue that, since all men desire their own interest, the ratepayers would elect guardians who would, up to the limit of their knowledge, advance the interests of the whole community; provided that electoral areas were created in which all sectional interests were represented, and that voting power were given to each ratepayer in proportion to his interest. it did not then seem to matter much whether the areas chosen were new or old, or whether the body elected had other duties or not. in , on the other hand, it is felt to be necessary to seek for all the causes which are likely to influence the mind of the ratepayer or candidate during an election, and to estimate by such evidence as is available their relative importance. it has to be considered, for instance, whether men vote best in areas where they keep up habits of political action in connection with parliamentary as well as municipal contests; and whether an election involving other points besides poor-law administration is more likely to create interest among the electorate. if more than one election, again, is held in a district in any year it may be found by the record of the percentage of votes that electoral enthusiasm diminishes for each additional contest along a very rapidly descending curve. the final decisions that will be taken either by the commission or by parliament on questions of administrative policy and electoral machinery must therefore involve the balancing of all these and many other considerations by an essentially quantitative process. the line, that is to say, which ultimately cuts the curves indicated by the evidence will allow less weight either to anxiety for the future as a motive for exertion, or to personal health as increasing personal efficiency, than would be given to either if it were the sole factor to be considered. there will be more 'bureaucracy' than would be desirable if it were not for the need of economising the energies of the elected representatives, and less bureaucracy than there would be if it were not desirable to retain popular sympathy and consent. throughout the argument the population of england will be looked upon not (as john stuart mill would have said) 'on the average or _en masse_,'[ ] but as consisting of individuals who can be arranged in 'polygons of variation' according to their nervous and physical strength, their 'character' and the degree to which ideas of the future are likely to affect their present conduct. [ ] see p. . meanwhile the public which will discuss the report has changed since . newspaper writers, in discussing the problem of destitution, tend now to use, not general terms applied to whole social classes like the 'poor,' 'the working class,' or 'the lower orders,' but terms expressing quantitative estimates of individual variations, like 'the submerged tenth,' or the 'unemployable'; while every newspaper reader is fairly familiar with the figures in the board of trade monthly returns which record seasonal and periodical variations of actual unemployment among trade unionists. one could give many other instances of this beginning of a tendency in political thinking, to change from qualitative to quantitative forms of argument. but perhaps it will be sufficient to give one relating to international politics. 'sixty years ago sovereignty was a simple question of quality. austin had demonstrated that there must be a sovereign everywhere, and that sovereignty, whether in the hands of an autocracy or a republic, must be absolute. but the congress which in sat at berlin to prevent the partition of africa from causing a series of european wars as long as those caused by the partition of america, was compelled by the complexity of the problems before it to approach the question of sovereignty on quantitative lines. since therefore every one has become familiar with the terms then invented to express gradations of sovereignty: 'effective occupation,' 'hinterland,' 'sphere of influence'--to which the algeçiras conference has perhaps added a lowest grade, 'sphere of legitimate aspiration.' it is already as unimportant to decide whether a given region is british territory or not, as it is to decide whether a bar containing a certain percentage of carbon should be called iron or steel. even in thinking of the smallest subdivisions of observed political fact some men escape the temptation to ignore individual differences. i remember that the man who has perhaps done more than any one else in england to make a statistical basis for industrial legislation possible, once told me that he had been spending the whole day in classifying under a few heads thousands of 'railway accidents,' every one of which differed in its circumstances from any other; and that he felt like the bewildered porter in _punch_, who had to arrange the subleties of nature according to the unsubtle tariff-schedule of his company. 'cats,' he quoted the porter as saying, 'is dogs, and guinea-pigs is dogs, but this 'ere tortoise is a hinsect.' but it must constantly be remembered that quantitative thinking does not necessarily or even generally mean thinking in terms of numerical statistics. number, which obliterates all distinction between the units numbered, is not the only, nor always even the most exact means of representing quantitative facts. a picture, for instance, may be sometimes nearer to quantitative truth, more easily remembered and more useful for purposes of argument and verification than a row of figures. the most exact quantitative political document that i ever saw was a set of photographs of all the women admitted into an inebriate home. the photographs demonstrated, more precisely than any record of approximate measurements could have done, the varying facts of physical and nervous structure. it would have been easily possible for a committee of medical men to have arranged the photographs in a series of increasing abnormality, and to have indicated the photograph of the 'marginal' woman in whose case, after allowing for considerations of expense, and for the desirability of encouraging individual responsibility, the state should undertake temporary or permanent control. and the record was one which no one who had ever seen it could forget. the political thinker has indeed sometimes to imitate the cabinet-maker, who discards his most finely divided numerical rule for some kinds of specially delicate work, and trusts to his sense of touch for a quantitative estimation. the most exact estimation possible of a political problem may have been contrived when a group of men, differing in origin, education, and mental type, first establish an approximate agreement as to the probable results of a series of possible political alternatives involving, say, increasing or decreasing state interference, and then discover the point where their 'liking' turns into 'disliking.' man is the measure of man, and he may still be using a quantitative process even though he chooses in each case that method of measurement which is least affected by the imperfection of his powers. but it is just in the cases where numerical calculation is impossible or unsuitable that the politician is likely to get most help by using consciously quantitative conceptions. an objection has been urged against the adoption of political reasoning either implicitly or explicitly quantitative, that it involves the balancing against each other of things essentially disparate. how is one, it is asked, to balance the marginal unit of national honour involved in the continuance of a war with that marginal unit of extra taxation which is supposed to be its exact equivalent? how is one to balance the final sovereign spent on the endowment of science with the final sovereign spent on a monument to a deceased scientist, or on the final detail in a scheme of old age pensions? the obvious answer is that statesmen have to act, and that whoever acts does somehow balance all the alternatives which are before him. the chancellor of the exchequer in his annual allocation of grants and remissions of taxation balances no stranger things than does the private citizen, who, having a pound or two to spend at christmas, decides between subscribing to a chinese mission and providing a revolving hatch between his kitchen and his dining-room. a more serious objection is that we ought not to allow ourselves to think quantitatively in politics, that to do so fritters away the plain consideration of principle. 'logical principles' may be only an inadequate representation of the subtlety of nature, but to abandon them is, it is contended, to become a mere opportunist. in the minds of these objectors the only alternative to deductive thought from simple principles seems to be the attitude of prince bülow, in his speech in the reichstag on universal suffrage. he is reported to have said:--'only the most doctrinaire socialists still regarded universal and direct suffrage as a fetish and as an infallible dogma. for his own part he was no worshipper of idols, and he did not believe in political dogmas. the welfare and the liberty of a country did not depend either in whole or in part upon the form of its constitution or of its franchise. herr bebel had once said that on the whole he preferred english conditions even to conditions in france. but in england the franchise was not universal, equal, and direct. could it be said that mecklenburg, which had no popular suffrage at all, was governed worse than haiti, of which the world had lately heard such strange news, although haiti could boast of possessing universal suffrage?'[ ] [ ] _times_, march , . but what prince bülow's speech showed, was that he was either deliberately parodying a style of scholastic reasoning with which he did not agree, or he was incapable of grasping the first conception of quantitative political thought. if the 'dogma' of universal suffrage means the assertion that all men who have votes are thereby made identical with each other in all respects, and that universal suffrage is the one condition of good government, then, and then only, is his attack on it valid. if, however, the desire for universal suffrage is based on the belief that a wide extension of political power is one of the most important elements in the conditions of good government--racial aptitude, ministerial responsibility, and the like, being other elements--then the speech is absolutely meaningless. but prince bülow was making a parliamentary speech, and in parliamentary oratory that change from qualitative to quantitative method which has so deeply affected the procedure of conferences and commissions has not yet made much progress. in a 'full-dress' debate even those speeches which move us most often recall mr. gladstone, in whose mind, as soon as he stood up to speak, his eton and oxford training in words always contended with his experience of things, and who never made it quite clear whether the 'grand and eternal commonplaces of liberty and self-government' meant that certain elements must be of great and permanent importance in every problem of church and state, or that an _a priori_ solution of all political problems could be deduced by all good men from absolute and authoritative laws. part ii _possibilities of progress_ chapter i political morality in the preceding chapters i have argued that the efficiency of political science, its power, that is to say, of forecasting the results of political causes, is likely to increase. i based my argument on two facts, firstly, that modern psychology offers us a conception of human nature much truer, though more complex, than that which is associated with the traditional english political philosophy; and secondly, that, under the influence and example of the natural sciences, political thinkers are already beginning to use in their discussions and inquiries quantitative rather than merely qualitative words and methods, and are able therefore both to state their problems more fully and to answer them with a greater approximation to accuracy. in this argument it was not necessary to ask how far such an improvement in the science of politics is likely to influence the actual course of political history. whatever may be the best way of discovering truth will remain the best, whether the mass of mankind choose to follow it or not. but politics are studied, as aristotle said, 'for the sake of action rather than of knowledge,'[ ] and the student is bound, sooner or later, to ask himself what will be the effect of a change in his science upon that political world in which he lives and works. [ ] _ethics_, bk. i. ch. iii. ( ). [greek: epeidê tò telos [tês politikês] estìn ou gnêsis allà praxis.] one can imagine, for instance, that a professor of politics in columbia university, who had just taken part as a 'mugwump' in a well-fought but entirely unsuccessful campaign against tammany hall, might say: 'the finer and more accurate the processes of political science become, the less do they count in politics. astronomers invent every year more delicate methods of forecasting the movements of the stars, but cannot with all their skill divert one star an inch from its course. so we students of politics will find that our growing knowledge brings us only a growing sense of helplessness. we may learn from our science to estimate exactly the forces exerted by the syndicated newspaper press, by the liquor saloons, or by the blind instincts of class and nationality and race; but how can we learn to control them? the fact that we think about these things in a new way will not win elections or prevent wars.' i propose, therefore, in this second part of my book to discuss how far the new tendencies which are beginning to transform the science of politics are likely also to make themselves felt as a new political force. i shall try to estimate the probable influence of these tendencies, not only on the student or the trained politician, but on the ordinary citizen whom political science reaches only at second or third hand; and, with that intention, shall treat in successive chapters their relation to our ideals of political morality, to the form and working of the representative and official machinery of the state, and to the possibilities of international and inter-racial understanding. this chapter deals from that point of view with their probable influence on political morality. in using that term i do not mean to imply that certain acts are moral when done from political motives which would not be moral if done from other motives, or _vice versâ_, but to emphasise the fact that there are certain ethical questions which can only be studied in close connection with political science. there are, of course, points of conduct which are common to all occupations. we must all try to be kind, and honest, and industrious, and we expect the general teachers of morals to help us to do so. but every occupation has also its special problems, which must be stated by its own students before they can be dealt with by the moralist at all. in politics the most important of these special questions of conduct is concerned with the relation between the process by which the politician forms his own opinions and purposes, and that by which he influences the opinions and purposes of others. a hundred or even fifty years ago, those who worked for a democracy of which they had had as yet no experience felt no misgivings on this point they looked on reasoning, not as a difficult and uncertain process, but as the necessary and automatic working of man's mind when faced by problems affecting his interest. they assumed, therefore, that the citizens under a democracy would necessarily be guided by reason in the use of their votes, that those politicians would be most successful who made their own conclusions and the grounds for them most clear to others, and that good government would be secured if the voters had sufficient opportunities of listening to free and sincere discussion. a candidate to-day who comes fresh from his books to the platform almost inevitably begins by making the same assumption. he prepares his speeches and writes his address with the conviction that on his demonstration of the relation between political causes and effects will depend the result of the election. perhaps his first shock will come from that maxim which every professional agent repeats over and over again to every candidate, 'meetings are no good.' those who attend meetings are, he is told, in nine cases out of ten, already loyal and habitual supporters of his party. if his speeches are logically unanswerable the chief political importance of that fact is to be found, not in his power of convincing those who are already convinced, but in the greater enthusiasm and willingness to canvass which may be produced among his supporters by their admiration of him as a speaker. later on he learns to estimate the way in which his address and that of his opponent appeal to the constituents. he may, for instance, become suddenly aware of the attitude of mind with which he himself opens the envelopes containing other candidates addresses in some election (of poor law guardians, for instance), in which he is not specially interested, and of the fact that his attention is either not aroused at all, or is only aroused by words and phrases which recall some habitual train of thought. by the time that he has become sufficiently confident or important to draw up a political programme for himself, he understands the limits within which any utterance must be confined that is addressed to large numbers of voters--the fact that proposals are only to be brought 'within the sphere of practical politics' which are simple, striking, and carefully adapted to the half-conscious memories and likes and dislikes of busy men. all this means that his own power of political reasoning is being trained. he is learning that every man differs from every other man in his interests, his intellectual habits and powers, and his experience, and that success in the control of political forces depends on a recognition of this and a careful appreciation of the common factors of human nature. but meanwhile it is increasingly difficult for him to believe that he is appealing to the same process of reasoning in his hearers as that by which he reaches his own conclusions. he tends, that is to say, to think of the voters as the subject-matter rather than the sharers of his thoughts. he, like plato's sophist, is learning what the public is, and is beginning to understand 'the passions and desires' of that 'huge and powerful brute, how to approach and handle it, at what times it becomes fiercest and most gentle, on what occasions it utters its several cries, and what sounds made by others soothe or irritate it.'[ ] if he resolutely guards himself against the danger of passing from one illusion to another, he may still remember that he is not the only man in the constituency who has reasoned and is reasoning about politics. if he does personal canvassing he may meet sometimes a middle-aged working man, living nearer than himself to the facts of life, and may find that this constituent of his has reasoned patiently and deeply on politics for thirty years, and that he himself is a rather absurd item in the material of that reasoning. or he may talk with a business man, and be forced to understand some one who sees perhaps more clearly than himself the results of his proposals, but who is separated from him by the gulf of a difference of desire: that which one hopes the other fears. [ ] plato, _republic_, p. . yet however sincerely such a candidate may respect the process by which the more thoughtful both of those who vote for him and of those who vote against him reach their conclusions, he is still apt to feel that his own part in the election has little to do with any reasoning process at all. i remember that before my first election my most experienced political friend said to me, 'remember that you are undertaking a six weeks' advertising campaign.' time is short, there are innumerable details to arrange, and the candidate soon returns from the rare intervals of mental contact with individual electors to that advertising campaign which deals with the electors as a whole. as long as he is so engaged, the maxim that it is wrong to appeal to anything but the severest process of logical thought in his constituents will seem to him, if he has time to think of it, not so much untrue as irrelevant. after a time the politician may cease even to desire to reason with his constituents, and may come to regard them as purely irrational creatures of feeling and opinion, and himself as the purely rational 'over-man' who controls them. it is at this point that a resolute and able statesman may become most efficient and most dangerous. bolingbroke, while he was trying to teach his 'patriot king' how to govern men by understanding them, spoke in a haunting phrase of 'that staring timid creature man.'[ ] a century before darwin he, like swift and plato, was able by sheer intellectual detachment to see his fellow-men as animals. he himself, he thought, was one of those few 'among the societies of men ... who engross almost the whole reason of the species, who are born to instruct, to guide, and to preserve, who are designed to be the tutors and the guardians of human kind.'[ ] for the rest, 'reason has small effect upon numbers: a turn of imagination, often as violent and as sudden as a gust of wind, determines their conduct.'[ ] [ ] _letters on the spirit of patriotism_, etc. (ed. of ), p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . the greatest of bolingbroke's disciples was disraeli, who wrote, 'we are not indebted to the reason of man for any of the great achievements which are the landmarks of human action and human progress.... man is only truly great when he acts from the passions; never irresistible but when he appeals to the imagination. even mormon accounts more votaries than bentham.'[ ] it was disraeli who treated queen victoria 'like a woman,' and gladstone, with the oxford training from which he never fully recovered, who treated her 'like a public meeting.' [ ] _coningsby_, ch. xiii. in spite of disraeli's essentially kindly spirit, his calculated play upon the instincts of the nation which he governed seemed to many in his time to introduce a cold and ruthless element into politics, which seemed colder and more ruthless when it appeared in the less kindly character of his disciple lord randolph churchill. but the same ruthlessness is often found now, and may perhaps be more often found in the future, whenever any one is sufficiently concentrated on some political end to break through all intellectual or ethical conventions that stand in his way. i remember a long talk, a good many years ago, with one of the leaders of the russian terrorist movement. he said, 'it is no use arguing with the peasants even if we were permitted to do so. they are influenced by events not words. if we kill a tzar, or a grand duke, or a minister, our movement becomes something which exists and counts with them, otherwise, as far as they are concerned, it does not exist at all.' in war, the vague political tradition that there is something unfair in influencing the will of one's fellow-men otherwise than by argument does not exist. this was what napoleon meant when he said, '� la guerre, tout est moral, et le moral et l'opinion font plus de la moitié de la réalité.'[ ] and it is curious to observe that when men are consciously or half-consciously determining to ignore that tradition they drop into the language of warfare. twenty years ago, the expression 'class-war' was constantly used among english socialists to justify the proposal that a socialist party should adopt those methods of parliamentary terrorism (as opposed to parliamentary argument) which had been invented by parnell. when lord lansdowne in proposed to the house of lords that they should abandon any calculation of the good or bad administrative effect of measures sent to them from the liberal house of commons, and consider only the psychological effect of their acceptance or rejection on the voters at the next general election, he dropped at once into military metaphor. 'let us' he said, 'be sure that if we join issue we do so upon ground which is as favourable as possible to ourselves. in this case i believe the ground would be unfavourable to this house, and i believe the juncture is one when, even if we were to win for the moment, our victory would be fruitless in the end.'[ ] [ ] _maximes de guerre et penseés de napoleon ier_ (chapelot), p. . [ ] hansard (trades disputes bill, house of lords, dec. , ), p. . at first sight, therefore, it might appear that the change in political science which is now going on will simply result in the abandonment by the younger politicians of all ethical traditions, and the adoption by them, as the result of their new book-learning, of those methods of exploiting the irrational elements of human nature which have hitherto been the trade secret of the elderly and the disillusioned. i have been told, for instance, that among the little group of women who in and brought the question of women's suffrage within the sphere of practical politics, was one who had received a serious academic training in psychology, and that the tactics actually employed were in large part due to her plea that in order to make men think one must begin by making them feel.[ ] [ ] mrs. pankhurst is reported, in the _observer_ of july , , to have said, 'whatever the women who were called suffragists might be, they at least understood how to bring themselves in touch with the public. they had caught the spirit of the age, learnt the art of advertising.' a hindoo agitator, again, mr. chandra pal, who also had read psychology, imitated lord lansdowne a few months ago by saying, 'applying the principles of psychology to the consideration of political problems we find it is necessary that we ... should do nothing that will make the government a power for us. because if the government becomes easy, if it becomes pleasant, if it becomes good government, then our signs of separation from it will be gradually lost.'[ ] mr. chandra pal, unlike lord lansdowne, was shortly afterwards imprisoned, but his words have had an important political effect in india. [ ] quoted in _times_, june , . if this mental attitude and the tactics based on it succeed, they must, it may be argued, spread with constantly increasing rapidity; and just as, by gresham's law in commerce, base coin, if there is enough of it, must drive out sterling coin, so in politics, must the easier and more immediately effective drive out the more difficult and less effective method of appeal. one cannot now answer such an argument by a mere statement that knowledge will make men wise. it was easy in the old days to rely on the belief that human life and conduct would become perfect if men only learnt to know themselves. before darwin, most political speculators used to sketch a perfect polity which would result from the complete adoption of their principles, the republics of plato and of more, bacon's atlantis, locke's plea for a government which should consciously realise the purposes of god, or bentham's utilitarian state securely founded upon the table of the springs of action. we, however, who live after darwin, have learnt the hard lesson that we must not expect knowledge, however full, to lead us to perfection. the modern student of physiology believes that if his work is successful, men may have better health than they would have if they were more ignorant, but he does not dream of producing a perfectly healthy nation; and he is always prepared to face the discovery that biological causes which he cannot control may be tending to make health worse. nor does the writer on education now argue that he can make perfect characters in his schools. if our imaginations ever start on the old road to utopia, we are checked by remembering that we are blood-relations of the other animals, and that we have no more right than our kinsfolk to suppose that the mind of the universe has contrived that we can find a perfect life by looking for it. the bees might to-morrow become conscious of their own nature, and of the waste of life and toil which goes on in the best ordered hive. and yet they might learn that no greatly improved organisation was possible for creatures hampered by such limited powers of observation and inference, and enslaved by such furious passions. they might be forced to recognise that as long as they were bees their life must remain bewildered and violent and short. political inquiry deals with man as he now is, and with the changes in the organisation of his life that can be made during the next few centuries. it may be that some scores of generations hence, we shall have discovered that the improvements in government which can be brought about by such inquiry, are insignificant when compared with the changes which will be made possible when, through the hazardous experiment of selective breeding, we have altered the human type itself. but however anxious we are to see the facts of our existence without illusion, and to hope nothing without cause, we can still draw some measure of comfort from the recollection that during the few thousand years through which we can trace political history in the past, man, without changing his nature, has made enormous improvements in his polity, and that those improvements have often been the result of new moral ideals formed under the influence of new knowledge. the ultimate and wider effect on our conduct of any increase in our knowledge may indeed be very different from, and more important than, its immediate and narrower effect. we each of us live our lives in a pictured universe, of which only a small part is contributed by our own observation and memory, and by far the greater part by what we have learnt from others. the changes in that mental picture of our environment made for instance by the discovery of america, or the ascertainment of the true movements of the nearer heavenly bodies, exercised an influence on men's general conception of their place in the universe, which proved ultimately to be more important than their immediate effect in stimulating explorers and improving the art of navigation. but none of the changes of outlook in the past have approached in their extent and significance those which have been in progress during the last fifty years, the new history of man and his surroundings, stretching back through hitherto unthought-of ages, the substitution of an illimitable vista of ever changing worlds for the imagined perfection of the ordered heavens, and above all the intrusion of science into the most intimate regions of ourselves. the effects of such changes often come, it is true, more slowly than we hope. i was talking not long ago to one of the ablest of those who were beginning their intellectual life when darwin published the _origin of species_. he told me how he and his philosopher brother expected that at once all things should become new, and how unwillingly as the years went on they had accepted their disappointment. but though slow, they are far-reaching. to myself it seems that the most important political result of the vast range of new knowledge started by darwin's work may prove to be the extension of the idea of conduct so as to include the control of mental processes of which at present most men are either unconscious or unobservant. the limits of our conscious conduct are fixed by the limits of our self-knowledge. before men knew anger as something separable from the self that knew it, and before they had made that knowledge current by the invention of a name, the control of anger was not a question of conduct. anger was a part of the angry man himself, and could only be checked by the invasion of some other passion, love, for instance, or fear, which was equally, while it lasted, a part of self. the man survived to continue his race if anger or fear or love came upon him at the right time, and with the right intensity. but when man had named his anger, and could stand outside it in thought, anger came within the region of conduct, henceforth, in that respect, man could choose either the old way of half-conscious obedience to an impulse which on the whole had proved useful in his past evolution, or the new way of fully conscious control directed by a calculation of results. a man who has become conscious of the nature of fear, and has acquired the power of controlling it, if he sees a boulder bounding towards him down a torrent bed, may either obey the immediate impulse to leap to one side, or may substitute conduct for instinct, and stand where he is because he has calculated that at the next bound the course of the boulder will be deflected. if he decides to stand he may be wrong. it may prove by the event that the immediate impulse of fear was, owing to the imperfection of his powers of conscious inference, a safer guide than the process of calculation. but because he has the choice, even the decision to follow impulse is a question of conduct. burke was sincerely convinced that men's power of political reasoning was so utterly inadequate to their task, that all his life long he urged the english nation to follow prescription, to obey, that is to say, on principle their habitual political impulses. but the deliberate following of prescription which burke advocated was something different, because it was the result of choice, from the uncalculated loyalty of the past. those who have eaten of the tree of knowledge cannot forget. in other matters than politics the influence of the fruit of that tree is now spreading further over our lives. whether we will or not, the old unthinking obedience to appetite in eating is more and more affected by our knowledge, imperfect though that be, of the physiological results of the quantity and kind of our food. mr. chesterton cries out, like the cyclops in the play, against those who complicate the life of man, and tells us to eat 'caviare on impulse,' instead of 'grape nuts on principle.'[ ] but since we cannot unlearn our knowledge, mr. chesterton is only telling us to eat caviare on principle. the physician, when he knows the part which mental suggestion plays in the cure of disease, may hate and fear his knowledge, but he cannot divest himself of it. he finds himself watching the unintended effects of his words and tones and gestures, until he realises that in spite of himself he is calculating the means by which such effects can be produced. after a time, even his patients may learn to watch the effect of 'a good bedside manner' on themselves. [ ] _heretics_, , p. . so in politics, now that knowledge of the obscurer impulses of mankind is being spread (if only by the currency of new words), the relation both of the politician and the voter to those impulses is changing. as soon as american politicians called a certain kind of specially paid orator a 'spell-binder,' the word penetrated through the newspapers from politicians to audiences. the man who knows that he has paid two dollars to sit in a hall and be 'spell-bound,' feels, it is true, the old sensations, but feels them with a subtle and irrevocable difference. the english newspaper reader who has once heard the word 'sensational,' may try to submit every morning the innermost sanctuary of his consciousness to the trained psychologists of the halfpenny journals. he may, according to the suggestion of the day, loathe the sixty million crafty scoundrels who inhabit the german empire, shudder at a coming comet, pity the cowards on the government front bench, or tremble lest a pantomime lady should throw up her part. but he cannot help the existence in the background of his consciousness of a self which watches, and, perhaps, is a little ashamed of his 'sensations.' even the rapidly growing psychological complexity of modern novels and plays helps to complicate the relation of the men of our time to their emotional impulses. the young tradesman who has been reading either _evan harrington_, or a novel by some writer who has read _evan harrington_, goes to shake hands with a countess at an entertainment given by the primrose league, or the liberal social council, conscious of pleasure, but to some degree critical of his pleasure. his father, who read _john halifax, gentleman_, would have been carried away by a tenth part of the condescension which is necessary in the case of the son. a voter who has seen _john bull's other island_ at the theatre, is more likely than his father, who only saw _the shaughraun_, to realise that one's feelings on the irish question can be thought about as well as felt. in so far as this change extends, the politician may find in the future that an increasing proportion of his constituents half-consciously 'see through' the cruder arts of emotional exploitation. but such an unconscious or half-conscious extension of self-knowledge is not likely of itself to keep pace with the parallel development of the political art of controlling impulse. the tendency, if it is to be effective, must be strengthened by the deliberate adoption and inculcation of new moral and intellectual conceptions--new ideal entities to which our affections and desires may attach themselves. 'science' has been such an entity ever since francis bacon found again, without knowing it, the path of aristotle's best thought. the conception of 'science,' of scientific method and the scientific spirit, was built up in successive generations by a few students. at first their conception was confined to themselves. its effects were seen in the discoveries which they actually made; but to the mass of mankind they seemed little better than magicians. now it has spread to the whole world. in every class-room and laboratory in europe and america the conscious idea of science forms the minds and wills of thousands of men and women who could never have helped to create it. it has penetrated, as the political conceptions of liberty or of natural right never penetrated, to non-european races. arab engineers in khartoum, doctors and nurses and generals in the japanese army, hindoo and chinese students make of their whole lives an intense activity inspired by absolute submission to science, and not only english or american or german town working men, but villagers in italy or argentina are learning to respect the authority and sympathise with the methods of that organised study which may double at any moment the produce of their crops or check a plague among their cattle. 'science,' however, is associated by most men, even in europe, only with things exterior to themselves, things that can be examined by test-tubes and microscopes. they are dimly aware that there exists a science of the mind, but that knowledge suggests to them, as yet, no ideal of conduct. it is true that in america, where politicians have learnt more successfully than elsewhere the art of controlling other men's unconscious impulses from without, there have been of late some noteworthy declarations as to the need of conscious control from within. some of those especially who have been trained in scientific method at the american universities are now attempting to extend to politics the scientific conception of intellectual conduct. but it seems to me that much of their preaching misses its mark, because it takes the old form of an opposition between 'reason' and 'passion.' the president of the university of yale said, for instance, the other day in a powerful address, 'every man who publishes a newspaper which appeals to the emotions rather than to the intelligence of its readers ... attacks our political life at a most vulnerable point.'[ ] if forty years ago huxley had in this way merely preached 'intelligence' as against 'emotion' in the exploration of nature, few would have listened to him. men will not take up the 'intolerable disease of thought' unless their feelings are first stirred, and the strength of the idea of science has been that it does touch men's feelings, and draws motive power for thought from the passions of reverence, of curiosity, and of limitless hope. [ ] a. t. hadley in _munsey's magazine_, . the president of yale seems to imply that in order to reason men must become passionless. he would have done better to have gone back to that section of the republic where plato teaches that the supreme purpose of the state realises itself in men's hearts by a 'harmony' which strengthens the motive force of passion, because the separate passions no longer war among themselves, but are concentrated on an end discovered by the intellect.[ ] [ ] cf. plato's _republic_, book iv. in politics, indeed, the preaching of reason as opposed to feeling is peculiarly ineffective, because the feelings of mankind not only provide a motive for political thought but also fix the scale of values which must be used in political judgment. one finds oneself when trying to realise this, falling back (perhaps because one gets so little help from current language) upon plato's favourite metaphor of the arts. in music the noble and the base composer are not divided by the fact that the one appeals to the intellect and the other to the feelings of his hearers. both must make their appeal to feeling, and both must therefore realise intensely the feelings of their audience, and stimulate intensely their own feelings. the conditions under which they succeed or fail are fixed, for both, by facts in our emotional nature which they cannot change. one, however, appeals by easy tricks to part only of the nature of his hearers, while the other appeals to their whole nature, requiring of those who would follow him that for the time their intellect should sit enthroned among the strengthened and purified passions. but what, besides mere preaching, can be done to spread the conception of such a harmony of reason and passion, of thought and impulse, in political motive? one thinks of education, and particularly of scientific education. but the imaginative range which is necessary if students are to transfer the conception of intellectual conduct from the laboratory to the public meeting is not common. it would perhaps more often exist if part of all scientific education were given to such a study of the lives of scientific men as would reveal their mental history as well as their discoveries, if, for instance, the young biologist were set to read the correspondence between darwin and lyell, when lyell was preparing to abandon the conclusions on which his great reputation was based, and suspending his deepest religious convictions, in the cause of a truth not yet made clear. but most school children, if they are to learn the facts on which the conception of intellectual conduct depends, must learn them even more directly. i myself believe that a very simple course on the well-ascertained facts of psychology would, if patiently taught, be quite intelligible to any children of thirteen or fourteen who had received some small preliminary training in scientific method. mr. william james's chapter on habit in his _principles of psychology_ would, for instance, if the language were somewhat simplified, come well within their range. a town child, again, lives nowadays in the constant presence of the psychological art of advertisement, and could easily be made to understand the reason why, when he is sent to get a bar of soap, he feels inclined to get that which is most widely advertised, and what relation his inclination has to that mental process which is most likely to result in the buying of good soap. the basis of knowledge necessary for the conception of intellectual duty could further be enlarged at school by the study in pure literature of the deeper experiences of the mind. a child of twelve might understand carlyle's _essay on burns_ if it were carefully read in class, and a good sixth form might learn much from wordsworth's _prelude_. the whole question, however, of such deliberate instruction in the emotional and intellectual facts of man's nature as may lead men to conceive of the co-ordination of reason and passion as a moral ideal is one on which much steady thinking and observation is still required. the instincts of sex, for instance, are becoming in all civilised countries more and more the subject of serious thought. conduct based upon a calculation of results is in that sphere claiming to an ever increasing degree control over mere impulse. yet no one is sure that he has found the way to teach the barest facts as to sexual instinct either before or during the period of puberty, without prematurely exciting the instincts themselves. doctors, again, are more and more recognising that nutrition depends not only upon the chemical composition of food but upon our appetite, and that we can become aware of our appetite and to some extent control and direct it by our will. sir william macewen said not long ago, 'we cannot properly digest our food unless we give it a warm welcome from a free mind with the prospect of enjoyment.'[ ] but it would not be easy to create by teaching that co-ordination of the intellect and impulse at which sir william macewen hints. if you tell a boy that one reason why food is wholesome is because we like it, and that it is therefore our duty to like that food which other facts of our nature have made both wholesome and likeable, you may find yourself stimulating nothing except his sense of humour. [ ] _british medical journal_, oct. , . so, in the case of the political emotions, it is very easy to say that the teacher should aim first at making his pupils conscious of the existence of those emotions, then at increasing their force, and finally at subordinating them to the control of deliberate reasoning on the consequences of political action. but it is extraordinarily difficult to discover how this can be done under the actual conditions of school teaching. mr. acland, when he was education minister in , introduced into the evening school code a syllabus of instruction on the life and duties of the citizen. it consisted of statements of the part played in social life by the rate-collector, the policeman, and so on, accompanied by a moral for each section, such as 'serving personal interest is not enough,' 'need of public spirit and intelligence for good government,' 'need of honesty in giving a vote,' 'the vote a trust as well as a right.' almost every school publisher rushed out a text-book on the subject, and many school boards encouraged its introduction; and yet the experiment, after a careful trial, was an acknowledged failure. the new text-books (all of which i had at the time to review), constituted perhaps the most worthless collection of printed pages that have ever occupied the same space on a bookshelf, and the lessons, with their alternations of instruction and edification, failed to stimulate any kind of interest in the students. if our youths and maidens are to be stirred as deeply by the conception of the state as were the pupils of socrates, teachers and the writers of text-books must apparently approach their task with something of socrates' passionate love of truth and of the searching courage of his dialectic. if again, at an earlier age, children still in school are to be taught what mr. wells calls 'the sense of the state,'[ ] we may, by remembering athens, get some indication of the conditions on which success depends. children will not learn to love london while getting figures by heart as to the millions of her inhabitants and the miles of her sewers. if their love is to be roused by words, the words must be as beautiful and as simple as the chorus in praise of athens in the _oedipus coloneus_. but such words are not written except by great poets who actually feel what they write, and perhaps before we have a poet who loves london as sophocles loved athens it may be necessary to make london itself somewhat more lovely. [ ] _the future in america_, chapter ix. the emotions of children are, however, most easily reached not by words but by sights and sounds. if therefore, they are to love the state, they should either be taken to see the noblest aspects of the state or those aspects should be brought to them. and a public building or ceremony, if it is to impress the unflinching eyes of childhood, must, like the buildings of ypres or bruges or the ceremonies of japan, be in truth impressive. the beautiful aspect of social life is fortunately not to be found in buildings and ceremonies only, and no winchester boy used to come back uninfluenced from a visit to father dolling in the slums of landport; though boys' eyes are even quicker to see what is genuine in personal motive than in external pomp. more subtle are the difficulties in the way of the deliberate intensification by adult politicians of their own political emotions. a life-long worker for education on the london school board once told me that when he wearied of his work--when the words of reports become mere words, and the figures in the returns mere figures--he used to go down to a school and look closely at the faces of the children in class after class, till the freshness of his impulse came back. but for a man who is about to try such an experiment on himself even the word 'emotion' is dangerous. the worker in full work should desire cold and steady not hot and disturbed impulse, and should perhaps keep the emotional stimulus of his energy, when it is once formed, for the most part below the level of full consciousness. the surgeon in a hospital is stimulated by every sight and sound in the long rows of beds, and would be less devoted to his work if he only saw a few patients brought to his house. but all that he is conscious of during the working hours is the one purpose of healing, on which the half-conscious impulses of brain and eye and hand are harmoniously concentrated. perhaps indeed most adult politicians would gain rather by becoming conscious of new vices than of new virtues. some day, for instance, the word 'opinion' itself may become the recognised name of the most dangerous political vice. men may teach themselves by habit and association to suspect those inclinations and beliefs which, if they neglect the duty of thought, appear in their minds they know not how, and which, as long as their origin is not examined, can be created by any clever organiser who is paid to do so. the most easily manipulated state in the world would be one inhabited by a race of nonconformist business men who never followed up a train of political reasoning in their lives, and who, as soon as they were aware of the existence of a strong political conviction in their minds, should announce that it was a matter of 'conscience' and therefore beyond the province of doubt or calculation. but, it may be still asked, is it not utopian to suppose that plato's conception of the harmony of the soul--the intensification both of passion and of thought by their conscious co-ordination--can ever become a part of the general political ideals of a modern nation? perhaps most men before the war between russia and japan would have answered, yes. many men would now answer, no. the japanese are apparently in some respects less advanced in their conceptions of intellectual morality than, say, the french. one hears, for instance, of incidents which seem to show that liberty of thought is not always valued in japanese universities. but both during the years of preparation for the war, and during the war itself, there was something in what one was told of the combined emotional and intellectual attitude of the japanese, which to a european seemed wholly new. napoleon contended against the 'idéologues' who saw things as they wished them to be, and until he himself submitted to his own illusions he ground them to powder. but we associate napoleon's clearness of vision with personal selfishness. here was a nation in which every private soldier outdid napoleon in his determination to see in warfare not great principles nor picturesque traditions, but hard facts; and yet the fire of their patriotism was hotter than gambetta's. something of this may have been due to the inherited organisation of the japanese race, but more seemed to be the effect of their mental environment. they had whole-heartedly welcomed that conception of science which in europe, where it was first elaborated, still struggles with older ideals. science with them had allied, and indeed identified, itself with that idea of natural law which, since they learnt it through china from hindustan, had always underlain their various religions.[ ] they had acquired, therefore, a mental outlook which was determinist without being fatalist, and which combined the most absolute submission to nature with untiring energy in thought and action. [ ] see okakura, _the japanese spirit_ ( ). one would like to hope that in the west a similar fusion might take place between the emotional and philosophical traditions of religion, and the new conception of intellectual duty introduced by science. the political effect of such a fusion would be enormous. but for the moment that hope is not easy. the inevitable conflict between old faith and new knowledge has produced, one fears, throughout christendom, a division not only between the conclusions of religion and science, but also between the religious and the scientific habit of mind. the scientific men of to-day no longer dream of learning from an english bishop, as their predecessors learnt from bishop butler, the doctrine of probability in conduct, the rule that while belief must never be fixed, must indeed always be kept open for the least indication of new evidence, action, where action is necessary, must be taken as resolutely on imperfect knowledge, if that is the best available, as on the most perfect demonstration. the policy of the last vatican encyclical will leave few abbots who are likely to work out, as abbot mendel worked out in long years of patient observation, a new biological basis for organic evolution. mental habits count for more in politics than do the acceptance or rejection of creeds or evidences. when an english clergyman sits at his breakfast-table reading his _times_ or _mail_, his attitude towards the news of the day is conditioned not by his belief or doubt that he who uttered certain commandments about non-resistance and poverty was god himself, but by the degree to which he has been trained to watch the causation of his opinions. as it is, dr. jameson's prepared manifesto on the johannesburg raid stirred most clergymen like a trumpet, and the suggestion that the latest socialist member of parliament is not a gentleman, produces in them a feeling of genuine disgust and despair. it may be therefore that the effective influence in politics of new ideals of intellectual conduct will have to wait for a still wider change of mental attitude, touching our life on many sides. some day the conception of a harmony of thought and passion may take the place, in the deepest regions of our moral consciousness, of our present dreary confusion and barren conflicts. if that day comes much in politics which is now impossible will become possible. the politician will be able not only to control and direct in himself the impulses of whose nature he is more fully aware, but to assume in his hearers an understanding of his aim. ministers and members of parliament may then find their most effective form of expression in that grave simplicity of speech which in the best japanese state papers rings so strangely to our ears, and citizens may learn to look to their representatives, as the japanese army looked to their generals, for that unbought effort of the mind by which alone man becomes at once the servant and the master of nature. chapter ii representative government but our growing knowledge of the causation of political impulse, and of the conditions of valid political reasoning, may be expected to change not only our ideals of political conduct but also the structure of our political institutions. i have already pointed out that the democratic movement which produced the constitutions under which most civilised nations now live, was inspired by a purely intellectual conception of human nature which is becoming every year more unreal to us. if, it may then be asked, representative democracy was introduced under a mistaken view of the conditions of its working, will not its introduction prove to have been itself a mistake? any defender of representative democracy who rejects the traditional democratic philosophy can only answer this question by starting again from the beginning, and considering what are the ends representation is intended to secure, and how far those ends are necessary to good government. the first end may be roughly indicated by the word consent. the essence of a representative government is that it depends on the periodically renewed consent of a considerable proportion of the inhabitants; and the degree of consent required may shade from the mere acceptance of accomplished facts, to the announcement of positive decisions taken by a majority of the citizens, which the government must interpret and obey. the question, therefore, whether our adoption of representative democracy was a mistake, raises the preliminary question whether the consent of the members of a community is a necessary condition of good government. to this question plato, who among the political philosophers of the ancient world stood at a point of view nearest to that of a modern psychologist, unhesitatingly answered, no. to him it was incredible that any stable polity could be based upon the mere fleeting shadows of popular opinion. he proposed, therefore, in all seriousness, that the citizens of his republic should live under the despotic government of those who by 'slaving for it'[ ] had acquired a knowledge of the reality which lay behind appearance. comte, writing when modern science was beginning to feel its strength, made, in effect, the same proposal. mr. h.g. wells, in one of his sincere and courageous speculations, follows plato. he describes a utopia which is the result of the forcible overthrow of representative government by a voluntary aristocracy of trained men of science. he appeals, in a phrase consciously influenced by plato's metaphysics, to 'the idea of a comprehensive movement of disillusioned and illuminated men behind the shams and patriotisms, the spites and personalities of the ostensible world....'[ ] there are some signs, in america as well as in england, that an increasing number of those thinkers who are both passionately in earnest in their desire for social change and disappointed in their experience of democracy, may, as an alternative to the cold-blooded manipulation of popular impulse and thought by professional politicians, turn 'back to plato'; and when once this question is started, neither our existing mental habits nor our loyalty to democratic tradition will prevent it from being fully discussed. [ ] [greek: douleusanti tê ktêsei autou] (_republic,_ p. ). [ ] wells, _a modern utopia_, p. . 'i know of no case for the elective democratic government of modern states that cannot be knocked to pieces in five minutes. it is manifest that upon countless important public issues there is no collective will, and nothing in the mind of the average man except blank indifference; that an electional system simply places power in the hands of the most skilful electioneers....' wells, _anticipations_, p. . to such a discussion we english, as the rulers of india, can bring an experience of government without consent larger than any other that has ever been tried under the conditions of modern civilisation. the covenanted civil service of british india consists of a body of about a thousand trained men. they are selected under a system which ensures that practically all of them will not only possess exceptional mental force, but will also belong to a race, which, in spite of certain intellectual limitations, is strong in the special faculty of government; and they are set to rule, under a system approaching despotism, a continent in which the most numerous races, in spite of their intellectual subtlety, have given little evidence of ability to govern. our indian experiment shows, however, that all men, however carefully selected and trained, must still inhabit 'the ostensible world.' the anglo-indian civilian during some of his working hours--when he is toiling at a scheme of irrigation, or forestry, or famine-prevention--may live in an atmosphere of impersonal science which is far removed from the jealousies and superstitions of the villagers in his district. but an absolute ruler is judged not merely by his efficiency in choosing political means, but also by that outlook on life which decides his choice of ends; and the anglo-indian outlook on life is conditioned, not by the problem of british india as history will see it a thousand years hence, but by the facts of daily existence in the little government stations, with their trying climates, their narrow society, and the continual presence of an alien and possibly hostile race. we have not, it is true, yet followed the full rigour of plato's system, and chosen the wives of anglo-indian officials by the same process as that through which their husbands pass. but it may be feared that even if we did so, the lady would still remain typical who said to mr. nevinson, 'to us in india a pro-native is simply a rank outsider.'[ ] [ ] _the nation_, december , . what is even more important is the fact that, because those whom the anglo-indian civilian governs are also living in the ostensible world, his choice of means on all questions involving popular opinion depends even more completely than if he were a party politician at home, not on things as they are, but on things as they can be made to seem. the avowed tactics of our empire in the east have therefore always been based by many of our high officials upon psychological and not upon logical considerations. we hold durbars, and issue proclamations, we blow men from guns, and insist stiffly on our own interpretation of our rights in dealing with neighbouring powers, all with reference to 'the moral effect upon the native mind.' and, if half what is hinted at by some ultra-imperialist writers and talkers is true, racial and religious antipathy between hindus and mohammedans is sometimes welcomed, if not encouraged, by those who feel themselves bound at all costs to maintain our dominant position. the problem of the relation between reason and opinion is therefore one that would exist at least equally in plato's corporate despotism as in the most complete democracy. hume, in a penetrating passage in his essay on _the first principles of government_, says: 'it is ... on opinion only that government is founded; and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most military governments as well as to the most free and the most popular.'[ ] it is when a czar or a bureaucracy find themselves forced to govern in opposition to a vague national feeling, which may at any moment create an overwhelming national purpose, that the facts of man's sublogical nature are most ruthlessly exploited. the autocrat then becomes the most unscrupulous of demagogues, and stirs up racial, or religious, or social hatred, or the lust for foreign war, with less scruple than does the proprietor of the worst newspaper in a democratic state. [ ] hume's _essays_, chap. iv. plato, with his usual boldness, faced this difficulty, and proposed that the loyalty of the subject-classes in his republic should be secured once for all by religious faith. his rulers were to establish and teach a religion in which they need not believe. they were to tell their people 'one magnificent lie';[ ] a remedy which in its ultimate effect on the character of their rule might have been worse than the disease which it was intended to cure. [ ] [greek: gennaión ti èn pseudoménous] (_republic_, p. ). but even if it is admitted that government without consent is a complicated and ugly process, it does not follow either that government by consent is always possible, or that the machinery of parliamentary representation is the only possible, or always the best possible, method of securing consent. government by a chief who is obeyed from custom, and who is himself restrained by custom from mere tyranny, may at certain stages of culture be better than anything else which can be substituted for it. and representation, even when it is possible, is not an unchanging entity, but an expedient capable of an infinite number of variations. in england at this moment we give the vote for a sovereign parliament to persons of the male sex above twenty-one years of age, who have occupied the same place of residence for a year; and enrol them for voting purposes in constituencies based upon locality. but in all these respects, age, sex, qualification, and constituency, as well as in the political power given to the representative, variation is possible. if, indeed, there should appear a modern bentham, trained not by fénelon and helvétius, but by the study of racial psychology, he could not use his genius and patience better than in the invention of constitutional expedients which should provide for a real degree of government by consent in those parts of the british empire where men are capable of thinking for themselves on political questions, but where the machinery of british parliamentary government would not work. in egypt, for instance, one is told that at elections held in ordinary local constituencies only two per cent, of those entitled to vote go to the poll.[ ] as long as that is the case representative government is impossible. a slow process of education might increase the proportion of voters, but meanwhile it would surely be possible for men, who understand the way in which egyptians or arabs think and feel, to discover other methods by which the vague desires of the native population can be ascertained, and the policy of the government made in some measure to depend on them. [ ] _times_, january , . the need for invention is even more urgent in india, and that fact is apparently being realised by the indian government itself. the inventive range of lord morley and his advisers does not, however, for the moment appear to extend much beyond the adaptation of the model of the english house of lords to indian conditions, and the organisation of an 'advisory council of notables';[ ] with the possible result that we may be advised by the hereditary rent-collectors of bengal in our dealings with the tillers of the soil, and by the factory owners of bombay in our regulation of factory labour. [ ] mr. morley in the house of commons. hansard, june , , p. . in england itself, though great political inventions are always a glorious possibility, the changes in our political structure which will result from our new knowledge are likely, in our own time, to proceed along lines laid down by slowly acting, and already recognisable tendencies. a series of laws have, for instance, been passed in the united kingdom during the last thirty or forty years, each of which had little conscious connection with the rest, but which, when seen as a whole, show that government now tends to regulate, not only the process of ascertaining the decision of the electors, but also the more complex process by which that decision is formed; and that this is done not in the interest of any particular body of opinion, but from a belief in the general utility of right methods of thought, and the possibility of securing them by regulation. the nature of this change may perhaps be best understood by comparing it with the similar but earlier and far more complete change that has taken place in the conditions under which that decision is formed which is expressed in the verdict of a jury. trial by jury was, in its origin, simply a method of ascertaining, from ordinary men whose veracity was secured by religious sanctions, their real opinions on each case.[ ] the various ways in which those opinions might have been formed were matters beyond the cognisance of the royal official who called the jury together, swore them, and registered their verdict. trial by jury in england might therefore have developed on the same lines as it did in athens, and have perished from the same causes. the number of the jury might have been increased, and the parties in the case might have hired advocates to write or deliver for them addresses containing distortions of fact and appeals to prejudice as audacious as those in the _private orations_ of demosthenes. it might have become more important that the witnesses should burst into passionate weeping than that they should tell what they knew, and the final verdict might have been taken by a show of hands, in a crowd that was rapidly degenerating into a mob. if such an institution had lasted up to our time, the newspapers would have taken sides in every important case. each would have had its own version of the facts, the most telling points of which would have been reserved for the final edition on the eve of the verdict, and the fate of the prisoner or defendant would often have depended upon a strictly party vote. [ ] see, _e.g._, stephen, _history of the criminal law_, vol. i. pp. - . but in the english jury trial it has come to be assumed, after a long series of imperceptible and forgotten changes, that the opinion of the jurors, instead of being formed before the trial begins, should be formed in court. the process, therefore, by which that opinion is produced has been more and more completely controlled and developed, until it, and not the mere registration of the verdict, has become the essential feature of the trial. the jury are now separated from their fellow-men during the whole case. they are introduced into a world of new emotional values. the ritual of the court, the voices and dress of judge and counsel, all suggest an environment in which the petty interests and impulses of ordinary life are unimportant when compared with the supreme worth of truth and justice. they are warned to empty their minds of all preconceived inferences and affections. the examination and cross-examination of the witnesses are carried on under rules of evidence which are the result of centuries of experience, and which give many a man as he sits on a jury his first lesson in the fallibility of the unobserved and uncontrolled inferences of the human brain. the 'said i's,' and 'thought i's,' and 'said he's,' which are the material of his ordinary reasoning, are here banished on the ground that they are 'not evidence,' and witnesses are compelled to give a simple account of their remembered sensations of sight and hearing. the witnesses for the prosecution and the defence, if they are well-intentioned men, often find themselves giving, to their own surprise, perfectly consistent accounts of the events at issue. the barristers' tricks of advocacy are to some extent restrained by professional custom and by the authority of the judge, and they are careful to point out to the jury each other's fallacies. newspapers do not reach the jury box, and in any case are prevented by the law as to contempt of court from commenting on a case which is under trial. the judge sums up, carefully describing the conditions of valid inference on questions of disputed fact, and warning the jury against those forms of irrational and unconscious inference to which experience has shown them to be most liable. they then retire, all carrying in their minds the same body of simplified and dissected evidence, and all having been urged with every circumstance of solemnity to form their conclusions by the same mental process. it constantly happens therefore that twelve men, selected by lot, will come to a unanimous verdict as to a question on which in the outside world they would have been hopelessly divided, and that that verdict, which may depend upon questions of fact so difficult as to leave the practised intellect of the judge undecided, will very generally be right. an english law court is indeed during a well-governed jury trial a laboratory in which psychological rules of valid reasoning are illustrated by experiment; and when, as threatens to occur in some american states and cities, it becomes impossible to enforce those rules, the jury system itself breaks down.[ ] [ ] on the jury system see mr. wells's _mankind in the making_, chapter vii. he suggests the use of juries in many administrative cases where it is desirable that government should be supported by popular consent. at the same time, trial by jury is now used with a certain degree of economy, both because it is slow and expensive, and because men do not make good jurors if they are called upon too often. in order that popular consent may support criminal justice, and that the law may not be unfairly used to protect the interests or policy of a governing class or person, no man, in most civilised countries, may be sentenced to death or to a long period of imprisonment, except after the verdict of a jury. but the overwhelming majority of other judicial decisions are now taken by men selected not by lot, but, in theory at least, by special fitness for their task. in the light of this development of the jury trial we may now examine the tentative changes which, since the reform act of , have been introduced into the law of elections in the united kingdom. long before that date, it had been admitted that the state ought not to stretch the principle of individual liberty so far as to remain wholly indifferent as to the kind of motives which candidates might bring to bear upon electors. it was obvious that if candidates were allowed to practise open bribery the whole system of representation would break down at once. laws, therefore, against bribery had been for several generations on the statute books, and all that was required in that respect was the serious attempt, made after the scandals at the general election of , to render them effective. but without entering into definite bargains with individual voters, a rich candidate can by lavish expenditure on his electoral campaign, both make himself personally popular, and create an impression that his connection with the constituency is good for trade. the corrupt practices act of therefore fixed a maximum of expenditure for each candidate at a parliamentary election. by the same act of , and by earlier and later acts, applying both to parliamentary and municipal elections, intimidation of all kinds, including the threatening of penalties after death, is forbidden. no badges or flags or bands of music may be paid for by, or on behalf of, a candidate. in order that political opinion may not be influenced by thoughts of the simpler bodily pleasures, no election meeting may be held in a building where any form of food or drink is habitually sold, although that building may be only a co-operative hall with facilities for making tea in an ante-room. the existing laws against corrupt practices represent, it is true, rather the growing purpose of the state to control the conditions under which electoral opinion is formed, than any large measure of success in carrying out that purpose. a rapidly increasing proportion of the expenditure at any english election is now incurred by bodies enrolled outside the constituency, and nominally engaged, not in winning the election for a particular candidate, but in propagating their own principles. sometimes the candidate whom they support, and whom they try to commit as deeply as possible, would be greatly relieved if they withdrew. generally their agents are an integral part of his fighting organisation, and often the whole of their expenditure at an election is covered by a special subscription made by him to the central fund. every one sees that this system drives a coach and horse through those clauses in the corrupt practices act which restrict election expenses and forbid the employment of paid canvassers, though no one as yet has put forward any plan for preventing it. but it is acknowledged that unless the whole principle is to be abandoned, new legislation must take place; and lord robert cecil talks of the probable necessity for a 'stringent and far-reaching corrupt practices act.'[ ] if, however, an act is carried stringent enough to deal effectually with the existing development of electoral tactics, it will have to be drafted on lines involving new and hitherto unthought-of forms of interference with the liberty of political appeal. [ ] _times_, june , . a hundred years ago a contested election might last in any constituency for three or four weeks of excitement and horseplay, during which the voters were every day further removed from the state of mind in which serious thought on the probable results of their votes was possible. now no election may last more than one day, and we may soon enact that all the polling for a general election shall take place on the same day. the sporting fever of the weeks during which a general election even now lasts, with the ladder-climbing figures outside the newspaper offices, the flash-lights at night, and the cheering or groaning crowds in the party clubs, are not only waste of energy but an actual hindrance to effective political reasoning. a more difficult psychological problem arose in the discussion of the ballot. would a voter be more likely to form a thoughtful and public-spirited decision if, after it was formed, he voted publicly or secretly? most of the followers of bentham advocated secrecy. since men acted in accordance with their ideas of pleasure and pain, and since landlords and employers were able, in spite of any laws against intimidation, to bring 'sinister' motives to bear upon voters whose votes were known, the advisability of secret voting seemed to follow as a corollary from utilitarianism. john stuart mill, however, whose whole philosophical life consisted of a slowly developing revolt of feeling against the utilitarian philosophy to which he gave nominal allegiance till the end, opposed the ballot on grounds which really involved the abandonment of the whole utilitarian position. if ideas of pleasure and pain be taken as equivalent to those economic motives which can be summed up as the making or losing money, it is not true, said mill, that even under a system of open voting such ideas are the main cause which induce the ordinary citizen to vote. 'once in a thousand times, as in the case of peace or war, or of taking off taxes, the thought may cross him that he shall save a few pounds or shillings in his year's expenditure if the side he votes for wins.' he votes as a matter of fact in accordance with ideas of right or wrong. 'his motive, when it is an honourable one, is the desire to do right. we will not term it patriotism or moral principle, in order not to ascribe to the voter's frame of mind a solemnity that does not belong to it.' but ideas of right and wrong are strengthened and not weakened by the knowledge that we act under the eyes of our neighbours. 'since then the real motive which induces a man to vote honestly is for the most part not an interested motive in any form, but a social one, the point to be decided is whether the social feelings connected with an act and the sense of social duty in performing it, can be expected to be as powerful when the act is done in secret, and he can neither be admired for disinterested, nor blamed for mean and selfish conduct. but this question is answered as soon as stated. when in every other act of a man's life which concerns his duty to others, publicity and criticism ordinarily improve his conduct, it cannot be that voting for a member of parliament is the single case in which he will act better for being sheltered against all comment.'[ ] [ ] letter to the _reader_, ap. , , signed j.s.m., quoted as mill's by henry romilly in pamphlet, _public responsibility and vote by ballot_, pp. , . almost the whole civilised world has now adopted the secret ballot; so that it would seem that mill was wrong, and that he was wrong in spite of the fact that, as against the consistent utilitarians, his description of average human motive was right. but mill, though he soon ceased to be in the original sense of the word a utilitarian, always remained an intellectualist, and he made in the case of the ballot the old mistake of giving too intellectual and logical an account of political impulses. it is true that men do not act politically upon a mere stock-exchange calculation of material advantages and disadvantages. they generally form vague ideas of right and wrong in accordance with vague trains of inference as to the good or evil results of political action. if an election were like a jury trial, such inferences might be formed by a process which would leave a sense of fundamental conviction in the mind of the thinker, and might be expressed under conditions of religious and civic solemnity to which publicity would lend an added weight, as it does in those 'acts of a man's life which concern his duty to others,' to which mill refers--the paying of a debt of honour, for instance, or the equitable treatment of one's relatives. but under existing electoral conditions, trains of thought, formed as they often are by the half-conscious suggestion of newspapers or leaflets, are weak as compared with the things of sense. apart from direct intimidation the voice of the canvasser, the excitement of one's friends, the look of triumph on the face of one's opponents, or the vague indications of disapproval by the rulers of one's village, are all apt to be stronger than the shadowy and uncertain conclusions of one's thinking brain. to make the ultimate vote secret, gives therefore thought its best chance, and at least requires the canvasser to produce in the voter a belief which, however shadowy, shall be genuine, rather than to secure by the mere manipulation of momentary impulse a promise which is shamefacedly carried out in public because it is a promise. lord courtney is the last survivor in public life of the personal disciples of mill, and at present he is devoting himself to a campaign in favour of 'proportional representation,' in which, as it seems to me, the old intellectualist misconceptions reappear in another form. he proposes to deal with two difficulties, first, that under the existing system of the 'single ballot' a minority in any single-member constituency may, if there are more candidates than two, return its representative, and secondly, that certain citizens who think for themselves instead of allowing party leaders to think for them--the free-trade unionists, for instance, or the high-church liberals--have, as a rule, no candidate representing their own opinions for whom they can vote. he proposes, therefore, that each voter shall mark in order of preference a ballot paper containing lists of candidates for large constituencies, each of which returns six or seven members, manchester with its eight seats being given as an example. this system, according to lord courtney, 'will lead to the dropping of the fetters which now interfere with free thought, and will set men and women on their feet, erect, intelligent, independent.'[ ] but the arguments used in urging it all seem to me to suffer from the fatal defect of dwelling solely on the process by which opinion is ascertained, and ignoring the process by which opinion is created. if at the assizes all the jurors summoned were collected into one large jury, and if they all voted guilty or not guilty on all the cases, after a trial in which all the counsel were heard and all the witnesses were examined simultaneously, verdicts would indeed no longer depend on the accidental composition of the separate juries; but the process of forming verdicts would be made, to a serious degree, less effective. [ ] address delivered by lord courtney at the mechanics' institute, stockport, march , , p. . the english experiment on which the proportional representation society mainly relies is an imaginary election, held in november by means of ballot papers distributed through members and friends of the society and through eight newspapers. 'the constituency,' we are told, 'was supposed to return five members; the candidates, twelve in number, were politicians whose names might be expected to be known to the ordinary newspaper reader, and who might be considered as representative of some of the main divisions of public opinion.'[ ] the names were, in fact, sir a. acland hood, sir h. campbell-banner-man, sir thomas p. whittaker, and lord hugh cecil, with messrs. richard bell, austen chamberlain, winston churchill, haldane, keir hardie, arthur henderson, bonar law, and philip snowden. in all, , votes were collected. [ ] proportional representation pamphlet, no. , p. . i was one of the , , and in my case the ballot papers were distributed at the end of a dinner party. no discussion of the various candidates took place with the single exception that, finding my memory of mr. arthur henderson rather vague, i whispered a question about him to my next neighbour. we were all politicians, and nearly all the names were those of persons belonging to that small group of forty or fifty whose faces the caricaturists of the christmas numbers expect their readers to recognise. at our dinner party not much unreality was introduced by the intellectualist assumption that the list of names were, as a greek might have said, the same, 'to us,' as they were 'in themselves.' but an ordinary list of candidates' names presented to an ordinary voter is 'to him' simply a piece of paper with black marks on it, with which he will either do nothing or do as he is told. the proportional representation society seem to assume that a sufficient preliminary discussion will be carried on in the newspapers, and that not only the names and party programmes but the reasons for the selection of a particular person as candidate and for all the items in his programme will be known to 'the ordinary newspaper reader,' who is assumed to be identical with the ordinary citizen. but even if one neglects the political danger arising from the modern concentration of newspaper property in the hands of financiers who may use their control for frankly financial purposes, it is not true that each man now reads or is likely to read a newspaper devoted to a single candidature or to the propaganda of a small political group. men read newspapers for news, and, since the collection of news is enormously costly, nine-tenths of the electorate read between them a small number of established papers advocating broad party principles. these newspapers, at any rate during a general election, only refer to those particular contests in which the party leaders are not concerned as matters of casual information, until, on the day of the poll, they issue general directions 'how to vote.' the choice of candidates is left by the newspapers to the local party organisations, and if any real knowledge of the personality of a candidate or of the details of his programme is to be made part of the consciousness of the ordinary voter, this must still be done by local electioneering in each constituency, _i.e._ by meetings and canvassing and the distribution of 'election literature.' lord courtney's proposal, even if it only multiplied the size of the ordinary constituency by six, would multiply by at least six the difficulty of effective electioneering, and even if each candidate were prepared to spend six times as much money at every contest, he could not multiply by six the range of his voice or the number of meetings which he could address in a day. these considerations were brought home to me by my experience of the nearest approximation to proportional representation which has ever been actually adopted in england. in lord frederick cavendish induced the house of commons to adopt 'plural voting' for school board elections. i fought in three london school board elections as a candidate and in two others as a political worker. in london the legal arrangement was that each voter in eleven large districts should be given about five or six votes, and that the same number of seats should be assigned to the district. in the provinces a town or parish was given a number of seats from five to fifteen. the voter might 'plump' all his votes on one candidate or might distribute them as he liked among any of them. this left the local organisers both in london and the country with two alternatives. they might form the list of party candidates in each district into a recognisable entity like the american 'ticket' and urge all voters to vote, on party lines, for the liberal or conservative 'eight' or 'five' or 'three.' if they did this they were saved the trouble involved in any serious attempt to instruct voters as to the individual personalities of the members of the list. or they might practically repeal the plural voting law, split up the constituency by a voluntary arrangement into single member sections, and spend the weeks of the election in making one candidate for each party known in each section. the first method was generally adopted in the provinces, and had all the good and bad effects from a party point of view of the french _scrutin de liste_. the second method was adopted in london, and perhaps tended to make the london elections turn more than they otherwise would have done upon the qualities of individual candidates. whichever system was adopted by the party leaders was acted upon by practically all the voters, with the exception of the well-organised roman catholics, who voted for a church and not a person, and of those who plumped for representatives of the special interests of the teachers or school-keepers. if lord courtney's proposal is adopted for parliamentary elections, it is the 'ticket' system which, owing to the intensity of party feeling, will be generally used. each voter will bring into the polling booth a printed copy of the ballot paper marked with the numbers , , , etc., according to the decision of his party association, and will copy the numbers onto the unmarked official paper. the essential fact, that is to say, on which party tactics would depend under lord courtney's scheme is not that the votes would finally be added up in this way or in that, but that the voter would be required to arrange in order more names than there is time during the election to turn for him into real persons. lord courtney, in speaking on the second reading of his municipal representation bill in the house of lords,[ ] contrasted his proposed system with that used in the london borough council elections, according to which a number of seats are assigned to each ward and the voter may give one vote each, without indication of preference, to that number of candidates. it is true that the electoral machinery for the london boroughs is the worst to be found anywhere in the world outside of america. i have before me my party ballot-card instructing me how to vote at the last council election in my present borough. there were six seats to be filled in my ward and fifteen candidates. i voted as i was told by my party organisation giving one vote each to six names, not one of which i remembered to have seen before. if there had been one seat to be filled, and, say, three candidates, i should have found out enough about one candidate at least to give a more or less independent vote; and the local party committees would have known that i and others would do so. bach party would then have circulated a portrait and a printed account of their candidate and of his principles, and would have had a strong motive for choosing a thoroughly reputable person. but i could not give the time necessary for forming a real opinion on fifteen candidates, who volunteered no information about themselves. i therefore, and probably twenty-nine out of every thirty of those who voted in the borough, voted a 'straight ticket.' if for any reason the party committee put, to use an americanism, a 'yellow dog' among the list of names, i voted for the yellow dog. [ ] april , . under lord courtney's system i should have had to vote on the same ticket, with the same amount of knowledge, but should have copied down different marks from my party card. on the assumption, that is to say, that every name on a long ballot paper represents an individual known to every voter there would be an enormous difference between lord courtney's proposed system and the existing system in the london boroughs. but if the fact is that the names in each case are mere names, there is little effective difference between the working of the two systems until the votes are counted. if the sole object of an election were to discover and record the exact proportion of the electorate who are prepared to vote for candidates nominated by the several party organisations lord courtney's scheme might be adopted as a whole. but english experience, and a longer experience in america, has shown that the personality of the candidate nominated is at least as important as his party allegiance, and that a parliament of well-selected members who represent somewhat roughly the opinion of the nation is better than a parliament of ill-selected members who, as far as their party labels are concerned, are, to quote lord courtney, 'a distillation, a quintessence, a microcosm, a reflection of the community.'[ ] [ ] address at stockport, p. . to lord courtney the multi-member constituency, which permits of a wide choice, and the preferential vote, which permits of full use of that choice, are equally essential parts of his plan; and that plan will soon be seriously discussed, because parliament, owing to the rise of the labour party and the late prevalence of 'three-cornered' contests, will soon have to deal with the question. it will then be interesting to see whether the growing substitution of the new quantitative and psychological for the old absolute and logical way of thinking about elections will have advanced sufficiently far to enable the house of commons to distinguish between the two points. if so, they will adopt the transferable vote, and so get over the difficulty of three-cornered elections, while retaining single-member constituencies, and therewith the possibility of making the personality of a candidate known to the whole of his constituents. a further effect of the way in which we are beginning to think of the electoral process is that, since , parliament, in reconstructing the system of english local government, has steadily diminished the number of elections, with the avowed purpose of increasing their efficiency. the local government acts of and swept away thousands of elections for improvement boards, burial boards, vestries, etc. in the separately elected school boards were abolished, and it is certain that the guardians of the poor will soon follow them. the rural parish councils, which were created in , and which represented a reversion by the liberal party to the older type of democratic thought, have been a failure, and will either be abolished or will remain ineffective, because no real administrative powers will be given to them. but if we omit the rural districts, the inhabitant of a 'county borough' will soon vote only for parliament and his borough council, while the inhabitant of london or of an urban district or non-county borough will only vote for parliament, his county, and his district or borough council. on the average, neither will be asked to vote more than once a year. in america one notices a similar tendency towards electoral concentration as a means of increasing electoral responsibility. in philadelphia i found that this concentration had taken a form which seemed to me to be due to a rather elementary quantitative mistake in psychology. owing to the fact that the reformers had thought only of economising political force, and had ignored the limitations of political knowledge, so many elections were combined on one day that the philadelphia 'blanket-ballot' which i was shown, with its parallel columns of party 'tickets,' contained some four hundred names. the resulting effects on the _personnel_ of philadelphian politics were as obvious as they were lamentable. in other american cities, however, concentration often takes the form of the abolition of many of the elected boards and officials, and the substitution for them of a single elected mayor, who administers the city by nominated commissions, and whose personality it is hoped can be made known during an election to all the voters, and therefore must he seriously considered by his nominators. one noticed again the growing tendency to substitute a quantitative and psychological for an absolute and logical view of the electoral process in the house of commons debate on the claim set up by the house of lords in to the right of forcing a general election (or a referendum) at any moment which they thought advantageous to themselves. mr. herbert samuel, for instance, argued that this claim, if allowed, would give a still further advantage in politics to the electoral forces of wealth acting, at dates carefully chosen by the house of lords, both directly and through the control of the press. lord robert cecil alone, whose mind is historical in the worst sense of that term, objected 'what a commentary was that on the "will of the people,"'[ ] and thought it somehow illegitimate that mr. samuel should not defend democracy according to the philosophy of thomas paine, so that he could answer in the style of canning. the present quarrel between the two houses may indeed result in a further step in the public control of the methods of producing political opinion by the substitution of general elections occurring at regular intervals for our present system of sudden party dissolutions at moments of national excitement. [ ] _times_, june , . but in the electoral process, as in so many other cases, one dares not hope that these slow and half-conscious changes in the general intellectual attitude will be sufficient to suggest and carry through all the improvements of machinery necessary to meet our growing difficulties, unless they are quickened by a conscious purpose. at my last contest for the london county council i had to spend the half hour before the close of the vote in one of the polling stations of a very poor district. i was watching the proceedings, which in the crush at the end are apt to be rather irregular, and at the same time was thinking of this book. the voters who came in were the results of the 'final rally' of the canvassers on both sides. they entered the room in rapid but irregular succession, as if they were jerked forward by a hurried and inefficient machine. about half of them were women, with broken straw hats, pallid faces, and untidy hair. all were dazed and bewildered, having been snatched away in carriages or motors from the making of match-boxes, or button-holes, or cheap furniture, or from the public house, or, since it was saturday evening, from bed. most of them seemed to be trying, in the unfamiliar surroundings, to be sure of the name for which, as they had been reminded at the door, they were to vote. a few were drunk, and one man, who was apparently a supporter of my own, clung to my neck while he tried to tell me of some vaguely tremendous fact which just eluded his power of speech. i was very anxious to win, and inclined to think that i had won, but my chief feeling was an intense conviction that this could not be accepted as even a decently satisfactory method of creating a government for a city of five million inhabitants, and that nothing short of a conscious and resolute facing of the whole problem of the formation of political opinion would enable us to improve it. something might be done, and perhaps will be done in the near future, to abolish the more sordid details of english electioneering. public houses could be closed on the election day, both to prevent drunkenness and casual treating, and to create an atmosphere of comparative seriousness. it is a pity that we cannot have the elections on a sunday as they have in france. the voters would then come to the poll after twenty or twenty-four hours' rest, and their own thoughts would have some power of asserting themselves even in the presence of the canvasser, whose hustling energy now inevitably dominates the tired nerves of men who have just finished their day's work. the feeling of moral responsibility half consciously associated with the religious use of sunday would also be so valuable an aid to reflection that the most determined anti-clerical might be willing to risk the chance that it would add to the political power of the churches. it may cease to be true that in england the christian day of rest, in spite of the recorded protest of the founder of christianity, is still too much hedged about by the traditions of prehistoric taboo to be available for the most solemn act of citizenship. it might again be possible to lend to the polling-place some of the dignity of a law court, and if no better buildings were available, at least to clean and decorate the dingy schoolrooms now used. but such improvements in the external environment of election-day, however desirable they may be in themselves, can only be of small effect. some writers argue or imply that all difficulties in the working of the electoral process will disappear of themselves as men approach to social equality. those who are now rich will, they believe, have neither motive for corrupt electoral expenditure, nor superfluity of money to spend on it; while the women and the working men who are now unenfranchised or politically inactive, will bring into politics a fresh stream of unspoilt impulse. if our civilisation is to survive, greater social equality must indeed come. men will not continue to live peacefully together in huge cities under conditions that are intolerable to any sensitive mind, both among those who profit, and those who suffer by them. but no one who is near to political facts can believe that the immediate effect either of greater equality or of the extension of the suffrage will be to clear away all moral and intellectual difficulties in political organisation. a mere numerical increase in the number of persons in england who are interested in politics would indeed itself introduce a new and difficult political factor. the active politicians in england, those who take any part in politics beyond voting, are at present a tiny minority. i was to speak not long ago at an election meeting, and having been misdirected as to the place where the meeting was to be held, found myself in an unknown part of north london, compelled to inquire of the inhabitants until i should find the address either of the meeting-hall or of the party committee-room. for a long time i drew blank, but at last a cabman on his way home to tea told me that there was a milkman in his street who was 'a politician and would know.' there are in london seven hundred thousand parliamentary voters, and i am informed by the man who is in the best position to know that it would be safe to say that less than ten thousand persons actually attend the annual ward meetings of the various parties, and that not more than thirty thousand are members of the party associations. that division of labour which assigns politics to a special class of enthusiasts, looked on by many of their neighbours as well-meaning busybodies, is not carried so far in most other parts of england as in london. but in no county in england, as far as i am aware, does the number of persons really active in politics amount to ten per cent. of the electorate. there are, i think, signs that this may soon cease to be true. the english elementary education act was passed in , and the elementary schools may be said to have become fairly efficient by . those who entered them, being six years old, at that date are now aged thirty-four. the statistics as to the production and sale of newspapers and cheap books and the use of free libraries, show that the younger working men and women in england read many times as much as their parents did. this, and the general increase of intellectual activity in our cities of which it is only a part, may very probably lead, as the social question in politics grows more serious, to a large extension of electoral interest. if so, the little groups of men and women who now manage the three english parties in the local constituencies will find themselves swamped by thousands of adherents who will insist on taking some part in the choice of candidates and the formation of programmes. that will lead to a great increase in the complexity of the process by which the council, the executive, and the officers of each local party association are appointed. parliament indeed may find itself compelled, as many of the american states have been compelled, to pass a series of acts for the prevention of fraud in the interior government of parties. the ordinary citizen would find then, much more obviously than he does at present, that an effective use of his voting power involves not only the marking of a ballot paper on the day of the election, but an active share in that work of appointing and controlling party committees from which many men whose opinions are valuable to the state shrink with an instinctive dread. but the most important difficulties raised by the extension of political interest from a very small to a large fraction of the population would be concerned with political motive rather than political machinery. it is astonishing that the early english democrats, who supposed that individual advantage would be the sole driving force in politics, assumed, without realising the nature of their own assumption, that the representative, if he were elected for a short term, would inevitably feel his own advantage to be identical with that of the community.[ ] at present there is a fairly sufficient supply of men whose imagination and sympathies are sufficiently quick and wide to make them ready to undertake the toil of unpaid electioneering and administration for the general good. but every organiser of elections knows that the supply is never more than sufficient, and payment of members, while it would permit men of good-will to come forward who are now shut out, would also make it possible for less worthy motives to become more effective. the concentration both of administrative and legislative work in the hands of the cabinet, while it tends to economy of time and effort, is making the house of commons yearly a less interesting place; and members have of late often expressed to me a real anxiety lest the _personnel_ of the house should seriously deteriorate. [ ] e.g. james mill, _essay on government_ ( ), 'we have seen in what manner it is possible to prevent in the representatives the rise of an interest different from that of the parties who choose them, namely, by giving them little time not dependent upon the will of those parties' (p. ). the chief immediate danger in the case of the two older parties is that, owing to the growing expense of electioneering and the growing effect of legislation on commerce and finance, an increasing proportion of the members and candidates may be drawn from the class of 'hustling' company-promoters and financiers. the labour party, on the other hand, can now draw upon an ample supply of genuine public spirit, and its difficulties in this respect will arise, not from calculated individual selfishness, but from the social and intellectual environment of working-class life. during the last twenty years i have been associated, for some years continuously and afterwards at intervals, with english political working men. they had, it seemed to me, for the most part a great advantage in the fact that certain real things of life were real to them. it is, for instance, the 'class-conscious' working men who, in england as on the continent, are the chief safeguard against the horrors of a general european war. but as their number and responsibility increase they will, i believe, have to learn some rather hard lessons as to the intellectual conditions of representative government upon a large scale. the town working man lives in a world in which it is very difficult for him to choose his associates. if he is of an expansive temperament, and it is such men who become politicians, he must take his mates in the shop and his neighbours in the tenement house as he finds them--and he sees them at very close range. the social virtue therefore which is almost a necessity of his existence is a good-humoured tolerance of the defects of average human nature. he is keenly aware of the uncertainty of his own industrial position, accustomed to give and receive help, and very unwilling to 'do' any man 'out of his job.' his parents and grandparents read very little and he was brought up in a home with few books. if, as he grows up, he does not himself read, things beyond his direct observation are apt to be rather shadowy for him, and he is easily made suspicious of that which he does not understand. if, on the other hand, he takes to reading when he is already a grown man, words and ideas are apt to have for him a kind of abstract and sharply outlined reality in a region far removed from his daily life. now the first virtue required in government is the habit of realising that things whose existence we infer from reading are as important as the things observed by our senses, of looking, for instance, through a list of candidates for an appointment and weighing the qualifications of the man whom one has never met by the same standard as those of the man whom one has met, and liked or pitied, the day before; or of deciding on an improvement with complete impartiality as between the district one knows of on the map and the district one sees every morning. if a representative elected to govern a large area allows personal acquaintance and liking to influence his decisions, his acquaintance and liking will he schemed for and exploited by those who have their own ends to gain. the same difficulty arises in matters of discipline, where the interests of the unknown thousands who will suffer from the inefficiency of an official have to be balanced against those of the known official who will suffer by being punished or dismissed; as well as in those numerous cases in which a working man has to balance the dimly realised interests of the general consumer against his intimate sympathy with his fellow-craftsmen. the political risk arising from these facts is not, at present, very great in the parliamentary labour party. the working men who have been sent to parliament have been hitherto, as a rule, men of picked intelligence and morale and of considerable political experience. but the success or failure of any scheme aiming at social equality will depend chiefly on its administration by local bodies, to which the working classes must necessarily send men of less exceptional ability and experience. i have never myself served on an elected local body the majority of whose members were weekly wage earners. but i have talked with men, both of working-class and middle-class origin, who have been in that position. what they say confirms that which i have inferred from my own observation, that on such a body one finds a high level of enthusiasm, of sympathy, and of readiness to work, combined with a difficulty in maintaining a sufficiently rigorous standard in dealing with sectional interests and official discipline. one is told that on such a body many members feel it difficult to realise that the way in which a well-intentioned man may deal with his own personal expenditure, his continued patronage, for instance, of a rather inefficient tradesman because he has a large family, or his refusal to contest an account from a dislike of imputing bad motives, is fatal if applied in the expenditure of the large sums entrusted to a public body. sometimes there are even, one learns, indications of that good-humoured and not ill-meant laxity in expending public money which has had such disastrous results in america, and which lends itself so easily to exploitation by those in whom the habit of giving and taking personal favours has hardened into systematic fraud. when one of the west ham guardians, two years ago, committed suicide on being charged with corruption, the _star_ sent down a representative who filled a column with the news. 'his death,' we were told, 'has robbed the district of an indefatigable public worker. county council, board of guardians, and liberal interests all occupied his leisure time.' 'one of his friends' is described as saying to the _star_ reporter, 'you do not need to go far to learn of his big-souled geniality. the poor folks of the workhouse will miss him badly.'[ ] when one has waded through masses of evidence on american municipal corruption, that phrase about 'big-souled geniality' makes one shudder. [ ] _star_, november th, . the early history of the co-operative and trade-union movements in england is full of pathetic instances of this kind of failure, and both movements show how a new and more stringent ideal may be slowly built up. but such an ideal will not come of itself without an effort, and must be part of the conscious organised thought of each generation if it is to be permanently effective. those difficulties have in the past been mainly pointed out by the opponents of democracy. but if democracy is to succeed they must be frankly considered by the democrats themselves; just as it is the engineer who is trying to build the bridge, and not the ferry-owner, who is against any bridge at all, whose duty it is to calculate the strain which the materials will stand. the engineer, when he wishes to increase the margin of safety in his plans, treats as factors in the same quantitative problem both the chemical expedients by which he can strengthen his materials and the structural changes by which the strain on those materials can be diminished. so those who would increase the margin of safety in our democracy must estimate, with no desire except to arrive at truth, both the degree to which the political strength of the individual citizen can, in any given time, be actually increased by moral and educational changes, and the possibility of preserving or extending or inventing such elements in the structure of democracy as may prevent the demand upon him being too great for his strength. chapter iii official thought it is obvious, however, that the persons elected under any conceivable system of representation cannot do the whole work of government themselves. if all elections are held in single member constituencies of a size sufficient to secure a good supply of candidates; if the number of elections is such as to allow the political workers a proper interval for rest and reflection between the campaigns; if each elected body has an area large enough for effective administration, a number of members sufficient for committee work and not too large for debate, and duties sufficiently important to justify the effort and expense of a contest; then one may take about twenty-three thousand as the best number of men and women to be elected by the existing population of the united kingdom--or rather less than one to every two thousand of the population.[ ] [ ] i arrive at this figure by dividing the united kingdom into single member parliamentary constituencies, averaging , in population, which gives a house of commons of --a more convenient number than the existing . i take the same unit of , for the average municipal area. large towns would contain several parliamentary constituencies, and small towns would, as at present, be separate municipal areas, although only part of a parliamentary constituency. i allow one local council of on the average to each municipal area. this proportion depends mainly on facts in the psychology of the electors, which will change very slowly if they change at all. at present the amount of work to be done in the way of government is rapidly increasing, and seems likely to continue to increase. if so, the number of elected persons available for each unit of work must tend to decrease. the number of persons now elected in the united kingdom (including, for instance, the parish councillors of rural parishes, and the common council of the city of london) is, of course, larger than my estimate, though it has been greatly diminished by the acts of , and . owing, however, to the fact that areas and powers are still somewhat uneconomically distributed it represents a smaller actual working power than would be given by the plan which i suggest. on the other hand, the number of persons (excluding the army and navy) given in the census returns of as professionally employed in the central and local government of the united kingdom was , . this number has certainly grown since at an increasing rate, and consists of persons who give on an average at least four times as many hours a week to their work as can be expected from the average elected member. what ought to be the relation between these two bodies, of twenty-three thousand elected, and, say, two hundred thousand non-elected persons? to begin with, ought the elected members be free to appoint the non-elected officials as they like? most american politicians of andrew jackson's time, and a large number of american politicians to-day, would hold, for instance, as a direct corollary from democratic principles, that the elected congressman or senator for a district or state has a right to nominate the local federal officials. there may, he would admit, be some risk in that method, but the risk, he would argue, is one involved in the whole scheme of democracy, and the advantages of democracy as a whole are greater than its disadvantages. our political logic in england has never been so elementary as that of the americans, nor has our faith in it been so unflinching. most englishmen, therefore, have no feeling of disloyalty to the democratic idea in admitting that it is not safe to allow the efficiency of officials to depend upon the personal character of individual representatives. at the general election of there were at least two english constituencies (one liberal and the other conservative) which returned candidates whose personal unfitness had been to most men's minds proved by evidence given in the law courts. neither constituency was markedly unlike the average in any respect. the facts were well known, and in each case an attempt was made by a few public-spirited voters to split the party vote, but both candidates were successful by large majorities. the borough of croydon stands, socially and intellectually, well above the average, but mr. jabez balfour represented croydon for many years, until he was sentenced to penal servitude for fraud. no one in any of these three cases would have desired that the sitting member should appoint, say, the postmasters, or collectors of inland revenue for his constituency. but though the case against the appointment of officials by individual representatives is clear, the question of the part which should be taken by any elected body as a whole in appointing the officials who serve under it is much more difficult, and cannot be discussed without considering what are to be the relative functions of the officials and the representatives after the appointment has taken place. do we aim at making election in fact as well as in constitutional theory the sole base of political authority, or do we desire that the non-elected officials shall exert some amount of independent influence? the fact that most englishmen, in spite of their traditional fear of bureaucracy, would now accept the second of these alternatives, is one of the most striking results of our experience in the working of democracy. we see that the evidence on which the verdict at an election must be given is becoming every year more difficult to collect and present, and further removed from the direct observation of the voters. we are afraid of being entirely dependent on partisan newspapers or election leaflets for our knowledge, and we have therefore come to value, even if for that reason only, the existence of a responsible and more or less independent civil service. it is difficult to realise how short a time it is since questions for which we now rely entirely on official statistics were discussed by the ordinary political methods of agitation and advocacy. in the earlier years of george the third's reign, at a time when population in england was, as we now know, rising with unprecedented rapidity, the question of fact whether it was rising or falling led to embittered political controversy.[ ] in the spring of the house of commons gave three nights to a confused party debate on the state of the country. the whigs argued that distress was general, and the tories (who were, as it happened, right) that it was local[ ]. in or the 'public' who could take part in such discussions numbered perhaps fifty thousand at the most. at least ten million people must, since , have taken part in the present tariff reform controversy; and that controversy would have degenerated into mere bedlam if it had not been for the existence of the board of trade returns, with whose figures both sides had at least to appear to square their arguments. [ ] bonar's _malthus_, chap. vii. [ ] _hansard_, feb. th, th, th, . if official figures did not exist in england, or if they did not possess or deserve authority, it is difficult to estimate the degree of political harm which could be done in a few years by an interested and deliberately dishonest agitation on some question too technical for the personal judgment of the ordinary voter. suppose, for instance, that our civil service were either notoriously inefficient or believed to be dominated by party influence, and that an organised and fraudulent 'currency agitation' should suddenly spring up. a powerful press syndicate brings out a series of well-advertised articles declaring that the privileges of the bank of england and the law as to the gold reserve are 'strangling british industry.' the contents bills of two hundred newspapers denounce every day the 'monopolists' and the 'gold-bugs,' the 'lies and shams' of the bank returns, and the 'paid perjurers of somerset house.' the group of financiers who control the syndicate stand to win enormous sums by the creation of a more 'elastic' currency, and subscribe largely to a free money league, which includes a few sincere paper-money theorists who have been soured by the contempt of the professional economists. a vigorous and well-known member of parliament--a not very reputable aristocrat perhaps, or some one loosely connected with the labour movement--whom everybody has hitherto feared and no one quite trusted, sees his opportunity. he puts himself at the head of the movement, denounces the 'fossils' and 'superior persons' who at present lead conservative and liberal and labour parties alike, and, with the help of the press syndicate and the subscription fund of the 'free money league,' begins to capture the local associations, and through them the central office of the party which is for the moment in opposition, can any one be sure that such a campaign, if it were opposed only by counter-electioneering, might not succeed, even although its proposals were wholly fraudulent and its leaders so ignorant or so criminal that they could only come into power by discrediting two-thirds of the honest politicians in the country and by replacing them with 'hustlers' and 'boodlers' and 'grafters,' and the other species for whom american political science has provided names? how is the ordinary voter--a market-gardener, or a gas-stoker, or a water-colour painter--to distinguish by the help of his own knowledge and reasoning power between the various appeals made to him by the 'reformers' and the 'safe money men' as to the right proportion of the gold reserve to the note issue--the 'ten per cent.' on the blue posters and the 'cent. per cent.' on the yellow? nor will his conscience be a safer guide than his judgment. a 'christian service wing' of the free money league may be formed, and his conscience may be roused by a white-cravatted orator, intoxicated by his own eloquence into something like sincerity, who borrows that phrase about 'humanity crucified on a cross of gold' which mr. w.j. bryan borrowed a dozen years ago from some one else. in an optimistic mood one might rely on the subtle network of confidence by which each man trusts, on subjects outside his own knowledge, some honest and better-informed neighbour, who again trusts at several removes the trained thinker. but does such a personal network exist in our vast delocalised urban populations? it is the vague apprehension of such dangers, quite as much as the merely selfish fears of the privileged classes, which preserves in europe the relics of past systems of non-elective government, the house of lords, for instance, in england, and the monarchy in italy or norway. men feel that a second base in politics is required, consisting of persons independent of the tactics by which electoral opinion is formed and legally entitled to make themselves heard. but political authority founded on heredity or wealth is not in fact protected from the interested manipulation of opinion and feeling. the american senate, which has come to be representative of wealth, is already absorbed by that financial power which depends for its existence on manufactured opinion; and our house of lords is rapidly tending in the same direction. from the beginning of history it has been found easier for any skilled politician who set his mind to it, to control the opinions of a hereditary monarch than those of a crowd. the real 'second chamber,' the real 'constitutional check' in england, is provided, not by the house of lords or the monarchy, but by the existence of a permanent civil service, appointed on a system independent of the opinion or desires of any politician, and holding office during good behaviour. if such a service were, as it is in russia and to a large extent in india, a sovereign power, it would itself, as i argued in the last chapter, have to cultivate the art of manipulating opinion. but the english civil servants in their present position have the right and duty of making their voice heard, without the necessity of making their will, by fair means or foul, prevail. the creation of this service was the one great political invention in nineteenth-century england, and like other inventions it was worked out under the pressure of an urgent practical problem. the method of appointing the officials of the east india company had been a critical question in english politics since . by that time it had already become clear that we could not permanently allow the appointment of the rulers of a great empire kept in existence by the english fleet and army to depend upon the irresponsible favour of the company's directors. charles james fox in , with his usual heedlessness, proposed to cut the knot, by making indian appointments, in effect, part of the ordinary system of parliamentary patronage; and he and lord north were beaten over their india bill, not only because george the third was obstinate and unscrupulous, but because men felt the enormous political dangers involved in their proposal. the question, in fact, could only be solved by a new invention. the expedient of administering an oath to the directors that they would make their appointments honestly, proved to be useless, and the requirements that the nominees of the directors should submit to a special training at hayleybury, though more effective, left the main evil of patronage untouched. as early, therefore, as , the government bill introduced by macaulay for the renewal and revision of the company's charter contained a clause providing that east india cadetships should be thrown open to competition.[ ] for the time the influence of the directors was sufficient to prevent so great a change from being effected, but in , on a further renewal of the charter, the system of competition was definitely adopted, and the first open examination for cadetships took place in . [ ] it would be interesting if lord morley, now that he has access to the records of the east india house, would tell us the true intellectual history of this far-reaching suggestion. for the facts as now known, cf. a.l. lowell, _colonial civil service_, pp. - . in the meantime sir charles trevelyan, a distinguished indian civilian who had married macaulay's sister, had been asked to inquire, with the help of sir stafford northcote, into the method of appointment in the home civil service. his report appeared in the spring of ,[ ] and is one of the ablest of those state papers which have done so much to mould the english constitution during the last two generations. it showed the intolerable effects on the _personnel_ of the existing service of the system by which the patronage secretary of the treasury distributed appointments in the national civil service among those members of parliament whose votes were to be influenced or rewarded, and it proposed that all posts requiring intellectual qualifications should be thrown open to those young men of good character who succeeded at a competitive examination in the subjects which then constituted the education of a gentleman. [ ] _reports and papers on the civil service_, - . but to propose that members of parliament should give up their own patronage was a very different thing from asking them to take away the patronage of the east india company. sir charles trevelyan, therefore, before publishing his proposal, sent it round to a number of distinguished persons both inside and outside the government service, and printed their very frank replies in an appendix. most of his correspondents thought that the idea was hopelessly impracticable. it seemed like the intrusion into the world of politics of a scheme of cause and effect derived from another universe--as if one should propose to the stock exchange that the day's prices should be fixed by prayer and the casting of lots. lingen, for instance, the permanent head of the education office, wrote considering that, as matter of fact, patronage is one element of power, and not by any means an unreal one; considering the long and inestimably valuable habituation of the people of this country to political contests in which the share of office ... reckons among the legitimate prizes of war; considering that socially and in the business of life, as well as in downing street, rank and wealth (as a fact, and whether we like it or not) hold the keys of many things, and that our modes of thinking and acting proceed, in a thousand ways, upon this supposition, considering all these things, i should hesitate long before i advised such a revolution of the civil service as that proposed by yourself and sir stafford northcote.'[ ] sir james stephen of the colonial office put it more bluntly, 'the world we live in is not, i think, half moralised enough for the acceptance of such a scheme of stern morality as this.'[ ] when, a few years later, competition for commissions in the indian army was discussed, queen victoria (or prince albert through her) objected that it reduced the sovereign to a mere signing machine.'[ ] [ ] _reports and papers on the civil service_, pp. , . [ ] _ibid._, p. [ ] _life of queen victoria_, vol. iii. p. (july , ). in , however, sixteen years after trevelyan's report, gladstone established open competition throughout the english civil service, by an order in council which was practically uncriticised and unopposed; and the parliamentary government of england in one of its most important functions did in fact reduce itself 'to a mere signing machine.' the causes of the change in the political atmosphere which made this possible constitute one of the most interesting problems in english history. one cause is obvious. in lord derby's reform act had suddenly transferred the ultimate control of the house of commons from the 'ten pound householders' in the boroughs to the working men. the old 'governing classes' may well have felt that the patronage which they could not much longer retain would be safer in the hands of an independent civil service commission, interpreting, like a blinded figure of justice, the verdict of nature, than in those of the dreaded 'caucuses,' which mr. schnadhorst was already organising. but one seems to detect a deeper cause of change than the mere transference of voting power. the fifteen years from the crimean war to were in england a period of wide mental activity, during which the conclusions of a few penetrating thinkers like darwin or newman were discussed and popularised by a crowd of magazine writers and preachers and poets. the conception was gaining ground that it was upon serious and continued thought and not upon opinion that the power to carry out our purposes, whether in politics or elsewhere, must ultimately depend. carlyle in had asked whether 'democracy once modelled into suffrages, furnished with ballot-boxes and such-like, will itself accomplish the salutary universal change from delusive to real,' and had answered, 'your ship cannot double cape horn by its excellent plans of voting. the ship may vote this and that, above decks and below, in the most harmonious exquisitely constitutional manner: the ship, to get round cape horn, will find a set of conditions already voted for, and fixed with adamantine rigour by the ancient elemental powers, who are entirely careless how you vote. if you can, by voting or without voting, ascertain those conditions, and valiantly conform to them, you will get round the cape: if you cannot--the ruffian winds will blow you ever back again.'[ ] [ ] _latter day pamphlets, no. i, the present time_. (chapman and hall, , pp. and .) by carlyle's lesson was already well started on its course from paradox to platitude. the most important single influence in that course had been the growth of natural science. it was, for instance, in that huxley's _lay sermons_ were collected and published. people who could not in understand carlyle's distinction between the delusive and the eeal, could not help understanding huxley's comparison of life and death to a game of chess with an unseen opponent who never makes a mistake.[ ] and huxley's impersonal science seemed a more present aid in the voyage round cape horn than carlyle's personal and impossible hero. [ ] _lay sermont_, p. , 'a liberal education' ( ). but the invention of a competitive civil service, when it had once been made and adopted, dropped from the region of severe and difficult thought in which it originated, and took its place in our habitual political psychology. we now half-consciously conceive of the civil service as an unchanging fact whose good and bad points are to be taken or left as a whole. open competition has by the same process become a principle, conceived of as applying to those cases to which it has been in fact applied, and to no others. what is therefore for the moment most needed, if we are to think fruitfully on the subject, is that we should in our own minds break up this fact, and return to the world of infinite possible variations. we must think of the expedient of competition itself as varying in a thousand different directions, and shading by imperceptible gradations into other methods of appointment; and of the posts offered for competition as differing each from all the rest, as overlapping those posts for which competition in some form is suitable though it has not yet been tried, and as touching, at the marginal point on their curve, those posts for which competition is unsuitable. directly we begin this process one fact becomes obvious. there is no reason why the same system should not be applied to the appointment of the officials of the local as to those of the central government. it is an amazing instance of the intellectual inertia of the english people that we have never seriously considered this point. in america the term civil service is applied equally to both groups of offices, and 'civil service principles' are understood to cover state and municipal as well as federal appointments. the separation of the two systems in our minds may, indeed, be largely due to the mere accident that from historical reasons we call them by different names. as it is, the local authorities are (with the exception that certain qualifications are required for teachers and medical officers) left free to do as they will in making appointments. perhaps half a dozen metropolitan and provincial local bodies have adopted timid and limited schemes of open competition. but in all other cases the local civil servants, who are already probably as numerous as those of the central government,[ ] are appointed under conditions which, if the government chose to create a commission of inquiry, would probably be found to have reproduced many of the evils that existed in the patronage of the central government before . [ ] the figures in the census of were--national, , ; local, , . but the local officials since then have, i believe, increased much more rapidly than the national. it would not, of course, be possible to appoint a separate body of civil service commissioners to hold a separate examination for each locality, and difficulties would arise from the selection of officials by a body responsible only to the central government, and out of touch with the local body which controls, pays, and promotes them when appointed. but similar difficulties have been obviated by american civil service reformers, and a few days' hard thinking would suffice to adapt the system to english local conditions. one object aimed at by the creation of a competitive civil service for the central government in england was the prevention of corruption. it was made more difficult for representatives and officials to conspire together in order to defraud the public, when the official ceased to owe his appointment to the representative. if an english member of parliament desired now to make money out of his position, he would have to corrupt a whole series of officials in no way dependent on his favour, who perhaps intensely dislike the human type to which he belongs, and who would be condemned to disgrace or imprisonment years after he had lost his seat if some record of their joint misdoing were unearthed. this precaution against corruption is needed even more clearly under the conditions of local government. the expenditure of local bodies in the united kingdom is already much larger than that of the central state, and is increasing at an enormously greater rate, while the fact that most of the money is spent locally, and in comparatively small sums, makes fraud easier. english municipal life is, i believe, on the whole pure, but fraud does occur, and it is encouraged by the close connection that may exist between the officials and the representatives. a needy or thick-skinned urban councillor or guardian may at any moment tempt, or be tempted, by a poor relation who helped him at his election, and for whom (perhaps as the result of a tacit understanding that similar favours should be allowed to his colleagues), he obtained a municipal post. the railway companies, again, in england are coming every year more and more under state control, but no statesman has ever attempted to secure in their case, as was done in the case of the east india company a century ago, some reasonable standard of purity and impartiality in appointments and promotion. some few railways have systems of competition for boy clerks, even more inadequate than those carried on by municipalities; but one is told that under most of the companies both appointment and promotion may be influenced by the favour of directors or large shareholders. we regulate the minutiae of coupling and signalling on the railways, but do not realise that the safety of the public depends even more directly upon their systems of patronage. how far this principle should be extended, and how far, for instance, it would be possible to prevent the head of a great private firm from ruining half a country side by leaving the management of his business to a hopelessly incompetent relation, is a question which depends, among other things, upon the powers of political invention which may be developed by collectivist thinkers in the next fifty years. we must meanwhile cease to treat the existing system of competition by the hasty writing of answers to unexpected examination questions as an unchangeable entity. that system has certain very real advantages. it is felt by the candidates and their relations to be 'fair.' it reveals facts about the relative powers of the candidates in some important intellectual qualities which no testimonials would indicate, and which are often unknown, till tested, to the candidates themselves. but if the sphere of independent selection is to be widely extended, greater variety must be introduced into its methods. in this respect invention has stood still in england since the publication of sir charles trevelyan's report in . some slight modifications have taken place in the subjects chosen for examination, but the enormous changes in english educational conditions during the last half century have been for the most part ignored. it is still assumed that young englishmen consist of a small minority who have received the nearly uniform 'education of a gentleman,' and a large majority who have received no intellectual training at all. the spread of varied types of secondary schools, the increasing specialisation of higher education, and the experience which all the universities of the world have accumulated as to the possibility of testing the genuineness and intellectual quality of 'post graduate' theses have had little or no effect. the playfair commission of found that a few women were employed for strictly subordinate work in the post office. since then female typewriters and a few better-paid women have been introduced into other offices in accordance with the casual impulses of this or that parliamentary or permanent chief; but no systematic attempt has been made to enrich the thinking power of the state by using the trained and patient intellects of the women who graduate each year in the newer, and 'qualify by examination to graduate,' in the older universities. to the general public indeed, the adoption of open competition in seemed to obviate any necessity for further consideration not only of the method by which officials were appointed but also of the system under which they did their work. the race of tite barnacles, they learnt, was now to become extinct. appointment was to be by 'merit,' and the announcement of the examination results, like the wedding in a middle-victorian novel, was to be the end of the story. but in a government office, as certainly as in a law-court or a laboratory, effective thinking will not be done unless adequate opportunities and motives are secured by organisation during the whole working life of the appointed officials. since , however, the organisation of the government departments has either been left to the casual development of office tradition in each department or has been changed (as in the case of the war office) by an agitation directed against one department only. the official relations, for instance, between the first division minority and the second division majority of the clerks in each office vary, not on any considered principle, but according to the opinions and prejudices of some once-dominant but now forgotten chief. the same is true of the relation between the heads of each section and the officials immediately below them. in at least one office important papers are brought first to the chief. his decision is at once given and is sent down the hierarchy for elaboration. in other offices the younger men are given invaluable experience, and the elder men are prevented from getting into an official rut by a system which requires that all papers should be sent first to a junior, who sends them up to his senior accompanied not only by the necessary papers but also by a minute of his own suggesting official action. one of these two types of organisation must in fact be better than the other, but no one has systematically compared them. in the colonial office, again, it is the duty of the librarian to see that the published books as well as the office records on any question are available for every official who has to report on it. in the board of trade, which deals with subjects on which the importance of published as compared with official information is even greater, room has only just been found for a technical library which was collected many years ago.[ ] the foreign office and the india office have libraries, the treasury and the local government board have none. [ ] for a long time the library of the board of trade was kept at the foreign office. in the exchequer and audit department a deliberate policy has been adopted of training junior officials by transferring them at regular intervals to different branches of the work. the results are said to be excellent, but nothing of the kind is systematically done or has even been seriously discussed in any other department which i know. nearly all departmental officials are concerned with the organisation of non-departmental work more directly executive than their own, and part of a wise system of official training would consist in 'seconding' young officials for experience in the kind of work which they are to organise. the clerks of the board of agriculture should be sent at least once in their career to help in superintending the killing of infected swine and interviewing actual farmers, while an official in the railway section of the board of trade should acquire some personal knowledge of the inside of a railway office. this principle of 'seconding' might well be extended so as to cover (as is already done in the army) definite periods of study during which an official, on leave of absence with full pay, should acquire knowledge useful to his department; after which he should show the result of his work, not by the answering of examination questions, but by the presentation of a book or report of permanent value. the grim necessity of providing, after the events of the boer war, for effective thought in the government of the british army produced the war office council. the secretary of state, instead of knowing only of those suggestions that reach him through the 'bottle-neck' of his senior official's mind, now sits once a week at a table with half a dozen heads of sub-departments. he hears real discussion; he learns to pick men for higher work; and saves many hours of circumlocutory writing. at the same time, owing to a well-known fact in the physiology of the human brain, the men who are tired of thinking on paper find a new stimulus in the spoken word and the presence of their fellow human beings, just as politicians who are tired with talking, find, if their minds are still uninjured, a new stimulus in the silent use of a pen. if this periodical alternation of written and oral discussion is useful in the war office, it would probably be useful in other offices; but no one with sufficient authority to require an answer has ever asked if it is so. one of the most important functions of a modern government is the effective publication of information, but we have no department of publicity, though we have a stationery office; and it is, for instance, apparently a matter of accident whether any particular department has or has not a gazette and how and when that gazette is published. nor is it any one's business to discover and criticise and if necessary co-ordinate the statistical methods of the various official publications. on all these points and many others a small departmental committee (somewhat on the lines of that esher committee which reorganised the war office in ), consisting perhaps of an able manager of an insurance company, with an open-minded civil servant, and a business man with experience of commercial and departmental organisation abroad, might suggest such improvements as would without increase of expense double the existing intellectual output of our government offices. but such a committee will not be appointed unless the ordinary members of parliament, and especially the members who advocate a wide extension of collective action, consider much more seriously than they do at present the organisation of collective thought. how, for instance, are we to prevent or minimise the danger that a body of officials will develop 'official' habits of thought, and a sense of a corporate interest opposed to that of the majority of the people? if a sufficient proportion of the ablest and best equipped young men of each generation are to be induced to come into the government service they must be offered salaries which place them at once among the well-to-do classes. how are we to prevent them siding consciously or unconsciously on all questions of administration with their economic equals? if they do, the danger is not only that social reform will be delayed, but also that working men in england may acquire that hatred and distrust of highly educated permanent officials which one notices in any gathering of working men in america. we are sometimes told, now that good education is open to every one, that men of every kind of social origin and class sympathy will enter to an increasing extent the higher civil service. if that takes place it will be an excellent thing, but meanwhile any one who follows the development of the existing examination system knows that care is required to guard against the danger that preference in marking may, if only from official tradition, be given to subjects like greek and latin composition, whose educational value is not higher than others, but excellence in which is hardly ever acquired except by members of one social class. it would, of course, be ruinous to sacrifice intellectual efficiency to the dogma of promotion from the ranks, and the statesmen of were perhaps right in thinking that promotion from the second to the first division of the service would be in their time so rare as to be negligible. but things have changed since then. the competition for the second division has become incomparably more severe, and there is no reasonable test under which some of those second class officials who have continued their education by means of reading and university teaching in the evening would not show, at thirty years of age, a greater fitness for the highest work than would be shown by many of those who had entered by the more advanced examination. but however able our officials are, and however varied their origin, the danger of the narrowness and rigidity which has hitherto so generally resulted from official life would still remain, and must be guarded against by every kind of encouragement to free intellectual development. the german emperor did good service the other day when he claimed (in a semi-official communication on the tweedmouth letter) that the persons who are kings and ministers in their official capacity have as fachmänner (experts) other and wider rights in the republic of thought. one only wishes that he would allow his own officials after their day's work to regroup themselves, in the healthy london fashion, with labour leaders, and colonels, and schoolmasters, and court ladies, and members of parliament, as individualists or socialists, or protectors of african aborigines, or theosophists, or advocates of a free stage or a free ritual. the intellectual life of the government official is indeed becoming part of a problem which every year touches us all more closely. in literature and science as well as in commerce and industry the independent producer is dying out and the official is taking his place. we are nearly all of us officials now, bound during our working days, whether we write on a newspaper, or teach in a university, or keep accounts in a bank, by restrictions on our personal freedom in the interest of a larger organisation. we are little influenced by that direct and obvious economic motive which drives a small shopkeeper or farmer or country solicitor to a desperate intensity of scheming how to outstrip his rivals or make more profit out of his employees. if we merely desire to do as little work and enjoy as much leisure as possible in our lives, we all find that it pays us to adopt that steady unanxious 'stroke' which neither advances nor retards promotion. the indirect stimulus, therefore, of interest and variety, of public spirit and the craftsman's delight in his skill, is becoming more important to us as a motive for the higher forms of mental effort, and threats and promises of decrease or increase of salary less important. and because those higher efforts are needed not only for the advantage of the community but for the good of our own souls we are all of us concerned in teaching those distant impersonal masters of ours who are ourselves how to prevent the opportunity of effective thought from being confined to a tiny rich minority, living, like the cyclops, in irresponsible freedom. if we consciously accept the fact that organised work will in future be the rule and unorganised work the exception, and if we deliberately adjust our methods of working as well as our personal ideals to that condition, we need no longer feel that the direction of public business must be divided between an uninstructed and unstable body of politicians and a selfish and pedantic bureaucracy. chapter iv nationality and humanity i have discussed, in the three preceding chapters, the probable effect of certain existing intellectual tendencies on our ideals of political conduct, our systems of representation, and the methods which we adopt for securing intellectual initiative and efficiency among our professional officials--that is to say, on the internal organisation of the state. in this chapter i propose to discuss the effect of the same tendencies on international and inter-racial relations. but, as soon as one leaves the single state and deals with the interrelation of several states, one meets with the preliminary question, what is a state? is the british empire, or the concert of europe, one state or many? every community in either area now exerts political influence on every other, and the telegraph and the steamship have abolished most of the older limitations on the further development and extension of that influence. will the process of coalescence go on either in feeling or in constitutional form, or are there any permanent causes tending to limit the geographical or racial sphere of effective political solidarity, and therefore the size and composition of states? aristotle, writing under the conditions of the ancient world, laid it down that a community whose population extended to a hundred thousand would no more be a state than would one whose population was confined to ten.[ ] he based his argument on measurable facts as to the human senses and the human memory. the territory of a state must be 'visible as a whole' by one eye, and the assembly attended by all the full citizens must be able to hear one voice--which must be that of an actual man and not of the legendary stentor. the governing officials must be able to remember the faces and characters of all their fellow citizens.[ ] he did not ignore the fact that nearly all the world's surface as he knew it was occupied by states enormously larger than his rule allowed. but he denied that the great barbarian monarchies were in the truest sense 'states' at all. [ ] _ethics_, ix., x. . [greek: oúte gàr ek déka anthrôpôn génoit' àn pólis, oút' ek déka myriádôn éti pólis estín.] [ ] aristotle, _polit._, bk. vii. ch. iv. we ourselves are apt to forget that the facts on which aristotle relied were both real and important. the history of the greek and mediaeval city-states shows how effective a stimulus may be given to some of the highest activities and emotions of mankind when the whole environment of each citizen comes within the first-hand range of his senses and memory. it is now only here and there, in villages outside the main stream of civilisation, that men know the faces of their neighbours and see daily as part of one whole the fields and cottages in which they work and rest. yet, even now, when a village is absorbed by a sprawling suburb or overwhelmed by the influx of a new industrial population, some of the older inhabitants feel that they are losing touch with the deeper realities of life. a year ago i stood with a hard-walking and hard-thinking old yorkshire schoolmaster on the high moorland edge of airedale. opposite to us was the country-house where charlotte brontë was governess, and below us ran the railway, linking a string of manufacturing villages which already were beginning to stretch out towards each other, and threatened soon to extend through the valley an unbroken succession of tall chimneys and slate roofs. he told me how, within his memory, the old affection for place and home had disappeared from the district. i asked whether he thought that a new affection was possible, whether, now that men lived in the larger world of knowledge and inference, rather than in the narrower world of sight and hearing, a patriotism of books and maps might not appear which should be a better guide to life than the patriotism of the village street. this he strongly denied; as the older feeling went, nothing, he said, had taken its place, or would take its place, but a naked and restless individualism, always seeking for personal satisfaction, and always missing it. and then, almost in the words of morris and ruskin, he began to urge that we should pay a cheap price if we could regain the true riches of life by forgetting steam and electricity, and returning to the agriculture of the mediaeval village and the handicrafts of the mediaeval town. he knew and i knew that his plea was hopeless. even under the old conditions the greek and italian and flemish city-states perished, because they were too small to protect themselves against larger though less closely organised communities; and industrial progress is an invader even more irresistible than the armies of macedon or spain. for a constantly increasing proportion of the inhabitants of modern england there is now no place where in the old sense they 'live.' nearly the whole of the class engaged in the direction of english industry, and a rapidly increasing proportion of the manual workers, pass daily in tram or train between sleeping-place and working-place a hundred times more sights than their eyes can take in or their memory retain. they are, to use mr. wells's phrase, 'delocalised.'[ ] [ ] _mankind in the making_, p. . but now that we can no longer use the range of our senses as a basis for calculating the possible area of the civilised state, there might seem to be no facts at all which can be used for such a calculation. how can we fix the limits of effective intercommunication by steam or electricity, or the area which can be covered by such political expedients as representation and federalism? when aristotle wished to illustrate the relation of the size of the state to the powers of its citizens he compared it to a ship, which, he said, must not be too large to be handled by the muscles of actual men. 'a ship of two furlongs length would not be a ship at all.'[ ] but the _lusitania_ is already not very far from a furlong and a half in length, and no one can even guess what is the upward limit of size which the ship-builders of a generation hence will have reached. if once we assume that a state may be larger than the field of vision of a single man, then the merely mechanical difficulty of bringing the whole earth under a government as effective as that of the united states or the british empire has already been overcome. if such a government is impossible, its impossibility must be due to the limits not of our senses and muscles but of our powers of imagination and sympathy. [ ] aristotle, _polit._, bk. vii. ch. iv. i have already pointed out[ ] that the modern state must exist for the thoughts and feelings of its citizens, not as a fact of direct observation but as an entity of the mind, a symbol, a personification, or an abstraction. the possible area of the state will depend, therefore, mainly on the facts which limit our creation and use of such entities. fifty years ago the statesmen who were reconstructing europe on the basis of nationality thought that they had found the relevant facts in the causes which limit the physical and mental homogeneity of nations. a state, they thought, if it is to be effectively governed, must be a homogeneous 'nation,' because no citizen can imagine his state or make it the object of his political affection unless he believes in the existence of a national type to which the individual inhabitants of the state are assimilated; and he cannot continue to believe in the existence of such a type unless in fact his fellow-citizens are like each other and like himself in certain important respects. bismarck deliberately limited the area of his intended german empire by a quantitative calculation as to the possibility of assimilating other germans to the prussian type. he always opposed the inclusion of austria, and for a long time the inclusion of bavaria, on the ground that while the prussian type was strong enough to assimilate the saxons and hanoverians to itself, it would fail to assimilate austrians and bavarians. he said, for instance, in : 'we cannot use these ultramontanes, and we must not swallow more than we can digest.'[ ] [ ] part i. ch. ii. pp. , , and - . [ ] _bismarck_ (j.w. headlam), p. . mazzini believed, with bismarck, that no state could be well governed unless it consisted of a homogeneous nation. but bismarck's policy of the artificial assimilation of the weaker by the stronger type seemed to him the vilest form of tyranny; and he based his own plans for the reconstruction of europe upon the purpose of god, as revealed by the existing correspondence of national uniformities with geographical facts. 'god,' he said, 'divided humanity into distinct groups or nuclei upon the face of the earth.... evil governments have disfigured the divine design. nevertheless you may still trace it, distinctly marked out--at least as far as europe is concerned--by the course of the great rivers, the direction of the higher mountains, and other geographical conditions.'[ ] [ ] _life, and writings_ (smith, elder, ), vol. iv. (written ), p. . both mazzini and bismarck, therefore, opposed with all their strength the humanitarianism of the french revolution, the philosophy which, as canning said, 'reduced the nation into individuals in order afterwards to congregate them into mobs.'[ ] mazzini attacked the 'cosmopolitans,' who preached that all men should love each other without distinction of nationality, on the ground that they were asking for a psychological impossibility. no man, he argued, can imagine, and therefore no one can love, mankind, if mankind means to him all the millions of individual human beings. already in he denounced the original carbonari for this reason: 'the cosmopolitan,' he then said, 'alone in the midst of the immense circle by which he is surrounded, whose boundaries extend beyond the limits of his vision; possessed of no other weapons than the consciousness of his rights (often misconceived) and his individual faculties--which, however powerful, are incapable of extending their activity over the whole sphere of application constituting the aim ... has but two paths before him. he is compelled to choose between despotism and inertia.'[ ] he quotes the breton fisherman who, as he puts out to sea, prays to god, 'help me my god! my boat is so small and thy ocean so wide.'[ ] [ ] canning, _life_ by stapleton, p. (speech at liverpool, ). [ ] mazzini, _life and writings_ (smith, elder, ), vol. iii. p. . [ ] _ibid._, vol. iv. p. . for mazzini the divinely indicated nation stood therefore between the individual man and the unimaginable multitude of the human race. a man could comprehend and love his nation because it consisted of beings like himself 'speaking the same language, gifted with the same tendencies and educated by the same historical tradition,'[ ] and could be thought of as a single national entity. the nation was 'the intermediate term between humanity and the individual,'[ ] and man could only attain to the conception of humanity by picturing it to himself as a mosaic of homogeneous nations. 'nations are the citizens of humanity as individuals are the citizens of the nation,'[ ] and again, 'the pact of humanity cannot be signed by individuals, but only by free and equal peoples, possessing a name, a banner, and the consciousness of a distinct existence.'[ ] [ ] _ibid._, vol. iv. p. (written ). [ ] _ibid._, vol. v. p. . [ ] mazzini, _life and writings_ (smith, elder, ), vol. v. p. (written ). [ ] _ibid_., vol. iii. p. (written ). nationalism, as interpreted either by bismarck or by mazzini, played a great and invaluable part in the development of the political consciousness of europe during the nineteenth century. but it is becoming less and less possible to accept it as a solution for the problems of the twentieth century. we cannot now assert with mazzini, that the 'indisputable tendency of our epoch' is towards a reconstitution of europe into a certain number of homogeneous national states 'as nearly as possible equal in population and extent'[ ] mazziui, indeed, unconsciously but enormously exaggerated the simplicity of the question even in his own time. national types throughout the greater part of south-eastern europe were not even then divided into homogeneous units by 'the course of the great rivers and the direction of the high mountains,' but were intermingled from village to village; and events have since forced us to admit that fact. we no longer, for instance, can believe, as mr. swinburne and the other english disciples of mazzini and of kossuth seem to have believed in the eighteen sixties, that hungary is inhabited only by a homogeneous population of patriotic magyars. we can see that mazzini was already straining his principle to the breaking point when he said in : 'it is in the power of greece ... to become, by extending itself to constantinople, a powerful barrier against the european encroachments of russia.'[ ] in macedonia to-day bands of bulgarian and greek patriots, both educated in the pure tradition of mazzinism, are attempting to exterminate the rival populations in order to establish their own claim to represent the purposes of god as indicated by the position of the balkan mountains. mazzini himself would, perhaps, were he living now, admit that, if the bismarckian policy of artificial assimilation is to be rejected, there must continue to be some states in europe which contain inhabitants belonging to widely different national types. [ ] _ibid._, vol. v. p. . [ ] _life and writings_ (smith, elder, ), vol. vi. p. . bismarck's conception of an artificial uniformity created by 'blood and iron' corresponded more closely than did mazzini's to the facts of the nineteenth century. but its practicability depended upon the assumption that the members of the dominant nationality would always vehemently desire to impose their own type on the rest. now that the social-democrats, who are a not inconsiderable proportion of the prussian population, apparently admire their polish or bavarian or danish fellow-subjects all the more because they cling to their own national characteristics, prince bülow's bismarckian dictum the other day, that the strength of germany depends on the existence and dominance of an intensely national prussia, seemed a mere political survival. the same change of feeling has also shown itself in the united kingdom, and both the english parties have now tacitly or explicitly abandoned that anglicisation of ireland and wales, which all parties once accepted as a necessary part of english policy. a still more important difficulty in applying the principle that the area of the state should be based on homogeneity of national type, whether natural or artificial, has been created by the rapid extension during the last twenty-five years of all the larger european states into non-european territory. neither mazzini, till his death in , nor bismarck, till the colonial adventure of , was compelled to take into his calculations the inclusion of territories and peoples outside europe. neither of them, therefore, made any effective intellectual preparation for those problems which have been raised in our time by 'the scramble for the world.' mazzini seems, indeed, to have vaguely expected that nationality would spread from europe into asia and africa, and that the 'pact of humanity' would ultimately be 'signed' by homogeneous and independent 'nations,' who would cover the whole land surface of the globe. but he never indicated the political forces by which that result was to be brought about. the italian invasion of abyssinia in might have been represented either as a necessary stage in the mazzinian policy of spreading the idea of nationality to africa, or as a direct contradiction of that idea itself. bismarck, with his narrower and more practical intellect, never looked forward, as mazzini did, to a 'pact of humanity,' which should include even the nations of europe, and, indeed, always protested against the attempt to conceive of any relation whatsoever, moral or political, as existing between any state and the states or populations outside its boundaries. 'the only sound principle of action,' he said, 'for a great state is political egoism.'[ ] when, therefore, after bismarck's death german sailors and soldiers found themselves in contact with the defenceless inhabitants of china or east africa, they were, as the social-democrats quickly pointed out, provided with no conception of the situation more highly developed than that which was acted upon in the fifth century a.d., by attila and his huns. [ ] speech, , quoted by j.w. headlam, _bismarck_, p. . the modern english imperialists tried for some time to apply the idea of national homogeneity to the facts of the british empire. from the publication of seeley's _expansion of england_ in till the peace of vereeniging in they strove to believe in the existence of a 'blood,' an 'island race,' consisting of homogeneous english-speaking individuals, among whom were to be reckoned not only the whole population of the united kingdom, but all the reasonably white inhabitants of our colonies and dependencies; while they thought of the other inhabitants of the empire as 'the white man's burden'--the necessary material for the exercise of the white man's virtues. the idealists among them, when they were forced to realise that such a homogeneity of the whites did not yet exist, persuaded themselves that it would come peacefully and inevitably as a result of the reading of imperial poems and the summoning of an imperial council. the bismarckian realists among them believed that it would be brought about, in south africa and elsewhere, by 'blood and iron.' lord milner, who is perhaps the most loyal adherent of the bismarckian tradition to be found out of germany, contended even at vereeniging against peace with the boers on any terms except such an unconditional surrender as would involve the ultimate anglicisation of the south african colonies. he still dreams of a british empire whose egoism shall be as complete as that of bismarck's prussia, and warns us in , in the style of , against those 'ideas of our youth' which were 'at once too insular and too cosmopolitan.'[ ] [ ] _times_, dec. , . but in the minds of most of our present imperialists, imperial egoism is now deprived of its only possible psychological basis. it is to be based not upon national homogeneity but upon the consciousness of national variation. the french in canada are to remain intensely french, and the dutch in south africa intensely dutch; though both are to be divided from the world outside the british empire by an unbridgeable moral chasm. to imperialism so conceived facts lend no support. the loyal acceptance of british imperial citizenship by sir wilfred laurier or general botha constitutes something more subtle, something, to adapt lord milner's phrase, less insular but more cosmopolitan than imperial egoism. it does not, for instance, involve an absolute indifference to the question whether france or holland shall be swallowed up by the sea. at the same time the non-white races within the empire show no signs of enthusiastic contentment at the prospect of existing, like the english 'poor' during the eighteenth century, as the mere material of other men's virtues. they too have their own vague ideas of nationality; and if those ideas do not ultimately break up our empire, it will be because they are enlarged and held in check, not by the sentiment of imperial egoism, but by those wider religious and ethical conceptions which pay little heed to imperial or national frontiers. it may, however, be objected by our imperial 'real-politiker' that cosmopolitan feeling is at this moment both visionary and dangerous, not because, as mazzini thought, it is psychologically impossible, but because of the plain facts of our military position. our empire, they say, will have to fight for its existence against a german or a russian empire or both together during the next generation, and our only chance of success is to create that kind of imperial sentiment which has fighting value. if the white inhabitants of the empire are encouraged to think of themselves as a 'dominant race,' that is to say as both a homogeneous nation and a natural aristocracy, they will soon be hammered by actual fighting into a bismarckian temper of imperial 'egoism.' among the non-white inhabitants of the empire (since either side in the next inter-imperial war will, after its first serious defeat, abandon the convention of only employing european troops against europeans) we must discover and drill those races who like the gurkhas and the soudanese, may be expected to fight for us and to hate our enemies without asking for political rights. in any case we, like bismarck, must extirpate, as the most fatal solvent of empire, that humanitarianism which concerns itself with the interests of our future opponents as well as those of our fellow-subjects. this sort of argument might of course be met by a _reductio ad absurdum_. if the policy of imperial egoism is a successful one it will be adopted by all empires alike, and whether we desire it or not, the victor in each inter-imperial war will take over the territory of the loser. after centuries of warfare and the steady retrogression, in the waste of blood and treasure and loyalty, of modern civilisation, two empires, england and germany, or america and china, may remain. both will possess an armament which represents the whole 'surplus value,' beyond mere subsistence, created by its inhabitants. both will contain white and yellow and brown and black men hating each other across a wavering line on the map of the world. but the struggle will go on, and, as the result of a naval armageddon in the pacific, only one empire will exist. 'imperial egoism,' having worked itself out to its logical conclusion, will have no further meaning, and the inhabitants of the globe, diminished to half their number, will be compelled to consider the problems of race and of the organised exploitation of the globe from the point of view of mere humanitarianism. is the suggestion completely wanting in practicability that we might begin that consideration before the struggle goes any further? fifteen hundred years ago, in south-eastern europe, men who held the homoousian opinion of the trinity were gathered in arms against the homoiousians. the generals and other 'real-politiker' on both sides may have feared, like lord milner, lest their followers should become 'too cosmopolitan,' too ready to extend their sympathies across the frontiers of theology. 'this' a homoousian may have said 'is a practical matter. unless our side learn by training themselves in theological egoism to hate the other side, we shall be beaten in the next battle.' and yet we can now see that the practical interests of europe were very little concerned with the question whether 'we' or 'they' won, but very seriously concerned with the question whether the division itself into 'we' or 'they' could not be obliterated by the discovery either of a less clumsy metaphysic or of a way of thinking about humanity which made the continued existence of those who disagreed with one in theology no longer intolerable. may the germans and ourselves be now marching towards the horrors of a world-war merely because 'nation' and 'empire' like 'homoousia' and 'homoiousia' are the best that we can do in making entities of the mind to stand between us and an unintelligible universe, and because having made such entities our sympathies are shut up within them? i have already urged, when considering the conditions of political reasoning, that many of the logical difficulties arising from our tendency to divide the infinite stream of our thoughts and sensations into homogeneous classes and species are now unnecessary and have been avoided in our time by the students of the natural sciences. just as the modern artist substitutes without mental confusion his ever-varying curves and surfaces for the straight and simple lines of the savage, so the scientific imagination has learnt to deal with the varying facts of nature without thinking of them as separate groups, each composed of identical individuals and represented to us by a single type. can we learn so to think of the varying individuals of the whole human race? can we do, that is to say, what mazzini declared to be impossible? and if we can, shall we be able to love the fifteen hundred million different human beings of whom we are thus enabled to think? to the first question the publication of the _origin of species_ in offered an answer. since then we have in fact been able to represent the human race to our imagination, neither as a chaos of arbitrarily varying individuals, nor as a mosaic of homogeneous nations, but as a biological group, every individual in which differs from every other not arbitrarily but according to an intelligible process of organic evolution.[ ] and, since that which exists for the imagination can exist also for the emotions, it might have been hoped that the second question would also have been answered by evolution, and that the warring egoisms of nations and empires might henceforth have been dissolved by love for that infinitely varying multitude whom we can watch as they work their way through so much pain and confusion towards a more harmonious relation to the universe. [ ] sir sydney olivier, e.g. in his courageous and penetrating book _white capital and coloured labour_ considers (in chap. ii.) the racial distinctions between black and white from the point of view of evolution. this consideration brings him at once to 'the infinite, inexhaustible distinctness of personality between individuals, so much a fundamental fact of life that one almost would say that the amalgamating race-characteristics are merely incrustations concealing this sparkling variety' (pp. , ). but it was the intellectual tragedy of the nineteenth century that the discovery of organic evolution, instead of stimulating such a general love of humanity, seemed at first to show that it was for ever impossible. progress, it appeared, had been always due to a ruthless struggle for life, which must still continue unless progress was to cease. pity and love would turn the edge of the struggle, and therefore would lead inevitably to the degeneration of the species. this grim conception of an internecine conflict, inevitable and unending, in which all races must play their part, hung for a generation after over the study of world-politics as the fear of a cooling sun hung over physics, and the fear of a population to be checked only by famine and war hung over the first century of political economy. before darwin wrote, it had been possible for philanthropists to think of the non-white races as 'men and brothers' who, after a short process of education, would become in all respects except colour identical with themselves. darwin made it clear that the difficulty could not be so glossed over. racial variations were shown to be unaffected by education, to have existed for millions of years, and to be tending perhaps towards divergence rather than assimilation. the practical problem also of race relationship has by a coincidence presented itself since darwin wrote in a sterner form. during the first half of the nineteenth century the european colonists who were in daily contact with non-european races, although their impulses and their knowledge alike revolted from the optimistic ethnology of exeter hall, yet could escape all thought about their own position by assuming that the problem would settle itself. to the natives of australia or canada or the hottentots of south africa trade automatically brought disease, and disease cleared the land for a stronger population. but the weakest races and individuals have now died out, the surviving population are showing unexpected powers of resisting the white man's epidemics, and we are adding every year to our knowledge of, and therefore our responsibility for, the causation of infection. we are nearing the time when the extermination of races, if it is done at all, must be done deliberately. but if the extermination is to be both inevitable and deliberate how can there exist a community either of affection or purpose between the killers and the killed? no one at this moment professes, as far as i know, to have an easy and perfect answer to this question. the point of ethics lies within the region claimed by religion. but christianity, which at present is the religion chiefly concerned, has conspicuously failed even to produce a tolerable working compromise. the official christian theory is, apparently, that all human souls are of equal value, and that it ought to be a matter of indifference to us whether a given territory is inhabited a thousand years hence by a million converted central african pigmies or a million equally converted europeans or hindus. on the practical point, however, whether the stronger race should base its plans of extension on the extermination of the weaker race, or on an attempt, within the limits of racial possibility, to improve it, christians have, during the nineteenth century, been infinitely more ruthless than mohammedans, though their ruthlessness has often been disguised by more or less conscious hypocrisy. but the most immediately dangerous result of political 'darwinism' was not its effect in justifying the extermination of african aborigines by european colonists, but the fact that the conception of the 'struggle for life' could be used as a proof that that conflict among the european nations for the control of the trade-routes of the world which has been threatening for the last quarter of a century is for each of the nations concerned both a scientific necessity and a moral duty. lord ampthill, for instance, the athletic ex-governor of madras, said the other day: 'from an individual struggle, a struggle of families, of communities, and nations, the struggle for existence has now advanced to a struggle of empires.'[ ] [ ] _times_, jan. , . the exhilaration with which lord ampthill proclaims that one-half of the species must needs slaughter the other half in the cause of human progress is particularly terrifying when one reflects that he may have to conduct negotiations as a member of the next conservative government with a german statesman like prince büllow, who seems to combine the teaching of bismarck with what he understands to have been the teaching of darwin when he defends the polish policy of his master by a declaration that the rules of private morality do not apply to national conduct. any such identification of the biological advantage arising from the 'struggle for life' among individuals with that which is to be expected from a 'struggle of empires' is, of course, thoroughly unscientific. the 'struggle of empires' must either be fought out between european troops alone, or between europeans in combination with their non-european allies and subjects. if it takes the first form, and if we assume, as lord ampthill probably does, that the north european racial type is 'higher' than any other, then the slaughter of half a million selected englishmen and half a million selected germans will clearly be an act of biological retrogression. even if the non-european races are brought in and a corresponding number of selected turks and arabs and tartars, or of gurkhas and pathans and soudanese are slaughtered, the biological loss to the world, as measured by the percentage of surviving 'higher' or 'lower' individuals will only be slightly diminished. nor is that form of the argument much better founded which contends that the evolutionary advantage to be expected from the 'struggle of empires' is the 'survival' not of races but of political and cultural types. our victory over the german empire, for instance, would mean, it is said, a victory for the idea of political liberty. this argument, which, when urged by the rulers of india, sounds somewhat temerarious, requires the assumption that types of culture are in the modern world most successfully spread by military occupation. but in the ancient world greek culture spread most rapidly after the fall of the greek empire; japan in our own time adopted western culture more readily as an independent nation than she would have done as a dependency of russia or france; and india is perhaps more likely to-day to learn from japan than from england. lord ampthill's phrase, however, represents not so much an argument, as a habit of feeling shared by many who have forgotten or never known the biological doctrine which it echoes. the first followers of darwin believed that the human species had been raised above its prehuman ancestors because, and in so far as, it had surrendered itself to a blind instinct of conflict. it seemed, therefore, as if the old moral precept that men should control their more violent impulses by reflection had been founded upon a mistake. unreflecting instinct was, after all, the best guide, and nations who acted instinctively towards their neighbours might justify themselves like the parisian ruffians of ten years ago, by claiming to be 'strugforlifeurs.' if this habit of mind is to be destroyed it must be opposed not merely by a new argument but by a conception of man's relation to the universe which creates emotional force as well as intellectual conviction. and the change that has already shown itself in our conception of the struggle for life among individuals indicates that, by some divine chance, a corresponding change may come in our conception of the struggle between peoples. the evolutionists of our own time tell us that the improvement of the biological inheritance of any community is to be hoped for, not from the encouragement of individual conflict, but from the stimulation of the higher social impulses under the guidance of the science of eugenics; and the emotional effect of this new conception is already seen in the almost complete disappearance from industrial politics of that unwillingly brutal 'individualism' which afflicted kindly englishmen in the eighteen sixties. an international science of eugenics might in the same way indicate that the various races should aim, not at exterminating each other, but at encouraging the improvement by each of its own racial type. such an idea would not appeal to those for whom the whole species arranges itself in definite and obvious grades of 'higher' and 'lower,' from the northern europeans downwards, and who are as certain of the ultimate necessity of a 'white world' as the sydney politicians are of the necessity of a 'white australia.' but in this respect during the last few years the inhabitants of europe have shown signs of a new humility, due partly to widespread intellectual causes and partly to the hard facts of the russo-japanese war and the arming of china. the 'spheres of influence' into which we divided the far east eight years ago, seem to us now a rather stupid joke, and those who read history are already bitterly ashamed that we destroyed by the sack of the summer palace in , the products of a thousand years of such art as we can never hope to emulate. we are coming honestly to believe that the world is richer for the existence both of other civilisations and of other racial types than our own. we have been compelled by the study of the christian documents to think of our religion as one only among the religions of the world, and to acknowledge that it has owed much and may owe much again to the longer philosophic tradition and the subtler and more patient brains of hindustan and persia. even if we look at the future of the species as a matter of pure biology, we are warned by men of science that it is not safe to depend only on one family or one variety for the whole breeding-stock of the world. for the moment we shrink from the interbreeding of races, but we do so in spite of some conspicuous examples of successful interbreeding in the past, and largely because of our complete ignorance of the conditions on which success depends. already, therefore, it is possible without intellectual dishonesty to look forward to a future for the race which need not be reached through a welter of blood and hatred. we can imagine the nations settling the racial allocation of the temperate or tropical breeding-grounds, or even deliberately placing the males and females of the few hopelessly backward tribes on different islands, without the necessity that the most violent passions of mankind should be stimulated in preparation for a general war. no one now expects an immediate, or prophesies with certainty an ultimate, federation of the globe; but the consciousness of a common purpose in mankind, or even the acknowledgment that such a common purpose is possible, would alter the face of world-politics at once. the discussion at the hague of a halt in the race of armaments would no longer seem utopian, and the strenuous profession by the colonising powers that they have no selfish ends in view might be transformed from a sordid and useless hypocrisy into a fact to which each nation might adjust its policy. the irrational race-hatred which breaks out from time to time on the fringes of empire, would have little effect in world politics when opposed by a consistent conception of the future of human progress. meanwhile, it is true, the military preparations for a death-struggle of empires still go on, and the problem even of peaceful immigration becomes yearly more threatening, now that shipping companies can land tens of thousands of chinese or indian labourers for a pound or two a head at any port in the world. but when we think of such things we need no longer feel ourselves in the grip of a fate that laughs at human purpose and human kindliness. an idea of the whole existence of our species is at last a possible background to our individual experience. its emotional effect may prove to be not less than that of the visible temples and walls of the greek cities, although it is formed not from the testimony of our eyesight, but from the knowledge which we acquire in our childhood and confirm by the half-conscious corroboration of our daily life. we all of us, plain folk and learned alike, now make a picture for ourselves of the globe with its hemispheres of light and shadow, from every point of which the telegraph brings us hourly news, and which may already be more real to us than the fields and houses past which we hurry in the train. we can all see it, hanging and turning in the monstrous emptiness of the skies, and obedient to forces whose action we can watch hundreds of light-years away and feel in the beating of our hearts. the sharp new evidence of the camera brings every year nearer to us its surface of ice and rock and plain, and the wondering eyes of alien peoples. it may be that we shall long continue to differ as to the full significance of this vision. but now that we can look at it without helpless pain it may stir the deepest impulses of our being. to some of us it may bring confidence in that love that dante saw, 'which moves the sun and the other stars.' to each of us it may suggest a kinder pity for all the bewildered beings who hand on from generation to generation the torch of conscious life. index abyssinia, italian invasion of, acland, mr., adams, john quincy, airedale, america, appointment of non-elected officials in, civil service, science and politics in, tendency to electoral concentration in, amos, ampthill, lord, antigone, aristotle, comparison of state to a ship, criticism of plato's communism, definition of 'polity', maximum size of a state, on action as the end of politics, on political affection, athens, glassmakers of, sophocles' love of, austin, john, bacon, francis, atlantis of, bagehot, walter, balfour, mr. a.j., mr. jabez, balliol college, ballot, barrie, mr. j.m., bebel, beccaria, bentham, jeremy, macaulay's attack on, on criminology, on 'natural right,' _principles of morals and legislation_, benthamism, as a science of politics, berlin, congress of, , bernstein, bismarck, and artificial homogeneity of national type, on political egoism, bolingbroke, lord, botha, general, breeding, selective, brighton parade, british empire, difficulty of conceiving as a political entity, national homogeneity in, political status of non-european races in, brontë, charlotte, bryan, mr. w.j., bryce, mr. james, buckle, h.t., bülow, prince, on dominance of prussia, on private and national morality, on universal suffrage, burke, edmund, on man's power of political reasoning, on 'party,' burney, fanny, burns, robert, butler, bishop, canning, george, carlyle, thomas, essay on burns of, cavendish, lord frederick, cavour, cecil, lord robert, chadwick, sir e., chamberlain, mr. joseph, charity schools, chesterton, mr. g.k., china, chinese labour, agitation against, christianity and race question, harnack on expansion of, churchill, lord randolph, civil service, creation of english, of india, importance of an independent, sir c. trevelyan's report on, comenius, competition, system of, in municipal appointments, in railway appointments, variety in methods of, comte, auguste, corrupt practices act, corrupt practices act, practical failure of, corruption, prevented by competitive civil service, courtney, lord, crimean war, croydon, dante, darwin, charles, correspondence with lyell, effect of his work, on persistence of racial variation, _origin of species_ of, demosthenes, derby, lord, reform act of, de wet, diderot, disraeli, benjamin, dolling, father, education act, , egypt, esher committee, fénelon, fitzpatrick, sir percy, fourier, fox, charles james, gambetta, galen, gardiner, professor s.r., garfield, president, george iii. and american revolution, and fox's india bill, popularity of, german emperor, gladstone, w. e., and english civil service, and queen victoria, on change of opinion, on ireland, parliamentary oratory of, government departments, organisation of, graham's law, grote, george, hadley, a.t., hague, the, hall, professor stanley, harnack, t., helvetius, herbart, j.f., hicks-beach, miss, hippocrates, hobbes, thomas, homoiousians, homoousians, hume, joseph, huxley, t.h., lay sermons of, hyndman, mr., india, and representative democracy, applicability of democratic principles in, appointment of east india company officials, civil service, english dislike of natives in, individualism, curve of, ireland, home rule for, jackson, andrew, james, professor william, on sense of effective reality, _principles of psychology_ of, jameson, dr., japan, japanese, mental environment of, state papers, jevons, professor, jury. _see_ trial by jury. justice, conception of, as political term, justinian, kossuth, louis, labour party and intellectual conditions of representative government, lansdowne, lord, laurier, sir wilfrid, lebon, g., lingen, lord, local government acts of and , locke, john, and basis of government, and pedagogy, on relation of man to god's law, lombroso, c., london, borough council elections, creation of love for, lack of citizenship in, proportion of active registered voters in, provision of schools in, school board elections in, county council debating hall, election posters, lyell, sir charles, lyndhurst, lord, macculloch, j.r., macedonia, macewen, sir william, macaulay, lord, and east india company, essay in _edinburgh review_ on benthamism, marseillaise, marshall, professor, marx, karl, mazzini, joseph, attack on cosmopolitanism, on geographical division of humanity, mendel, abbot, merivale, mr. herman, metternich, mill, james, j.s., on mankind in the average, opposition to the ballot of, milner, lord, molesworth, sir w., more, sir thomas, republic of, morgan, professor lloyd, morley, lord, on w.k. gladstone, morris, william, municipal representation bill, napoleon i. and psychology of war, louis, negro suffrage in united states, nevinson, mr. h.w., newman, j.h., on sonification, nicholas h., north, lord, northcote, sir stafford, olivier, sir sydney, ostrogorski, professor, owen, robert, paine, thomas, pal, mr. chandra, palmerston, lord, pankhurst, mrs., parnell, c.s., parramatta tea, party as a political entity, patroclus, pearson, professor karl, peel, sir robert, pericles, persia, philadelphia, philippines, place, francis, plato, 'cave of illusion' of, his 'harmony of the soul' in modern political life, on basis of government, on government by consent, on idea of perfect man, on the public, religion in the republic of, republic of, playfair commission, poor law commission of , of proportional representation and lord courtney, society, prospero, putney, race problem and representative democracy, in international politics, in india, reform act of religion of comte, in plato's republic, representative democracy and india, and race problem, in egypt, in england, in united states, rome, roosevelt, theodore, rousseau, j.j., and pedagogy, on human rights, rural parish councils, ruskin, john, samuel, mr. herbert, schnadhorst, mr., science, as an entity, seeley, j.r., _expansion of england_ of, senior, nassau, _political economy_ of, shelley, socialism, conception of as a working creed, curve of, socrates, somerset house, sophocles, spencer, mr. herbert, stein, h.f., stephen, sir james, suffrage, for women at election, negro, universal, prince bülow's attack on, swift, dean, swinburne, a.c., tammany hall, tarde, g., tennyson, lord, thackeray, togo, admiral, trevelyan, sir charles, trial by jury, development of tweefontein, tyrrell, father, united kingdom, proportion of elected to electors in, united states and negro suffrage, and representative democracy, vaux, madame de, vereeniging, peace of, victoria, queen, on competition for indian army commissions, portrait of, on coins, virgin of kevlaar, war office council, wells, mr. h.g., on delocalised population, on representative democracy, on 'sense of the state,' on uniqueness of the individual whately, archbishop women's suffrage at election methods of suffragists, wood, mr. m'kinnon, wordsworth, _prelude_ of,