Borgia took great pains to preserve Machiavelli's prepossession in favour of his good fortune and success. He pressed him to bring his government to decisive measures in his favour. He caused his ministers to urge those topics which would come more gracefully through a third person. These men besieged the secretary's ear with confidential advice. They assured him that Florence was losing an admirable opportunity for securing the duke's friendship; they represented what a fortunate, high-spirited man he was, accustomed to success, and despising his present dangers. Machiavelli sent minute details of these conversations to his government, addings "Your lordships hear the words which the duke uses, and, knowing who it is that speaks, you will draw conclusions with your accustomed prudence." On another occasion he recounts a long conversation he held with Borgia, who showed him letters received from France, which assured him of the friendship of its powerful monarch. "I have often told you," Cæsar continued, "and again I say, that I shall not be without assistance. The French cavalry and the Swiss infantry will soon arrive, and the pope will supply me with money. I do not wish to boast, nor to say more than that it is probable that my enemies will repent their perfidy. As to your masters, I cannot be more satisfied with them than I am; so that you may offer them on my part all that it is in my power to do. When you first came, I spoke in general terms, because my affairs were in so bad a condition that I did not know on what ground I stood, and I did not wish your government to think that danger made me a large promiser. But now that I fear less, I promise more; and when my fears are quite at an end, deeds shall be added to my words, when there is call for them."

"Your lordships," continues Machiavelli, hear the duke's words, of which I do not put down one half; and, knowing the manner of man, can judge accordingly. Since I have been here, nothing but good has happened to him; which has been caused by the certainty that every one feels that the king of France will help him with troops, and the pope with money."

Machiavelli was evidently filled with high admiration of Borgia's talents, and won by his persuasive manners. There is abundant proof, however, that he did not possess his confidence. He was perpetually soliciting to be recalled:—"For the time is past," he writes, "for temporising, and a man of more authority than I is needed to conclude this treaty. My own affairs are also in the greatest disorder, nor can I remain here without money." The Florentine government thought otherwise; they determined to await the development of events before they concluded any treaty.

These were hastening onwards to a catastrophe. Borgia by this time had collected a considerable force together of French, Swiss, and Italians; but he was willing to overcome his adversaries by other arts than those of war. The confederates, from weakness or fear, or by force of Borgia's persuasive eloquence, were won to agree to a treaty of reconciliation. After some parley, it was signed early in the month of November: the terms consisted principally of renewed professions of perpetual peace, concord, and union; with a remission and forgetfulness of injuries; the duke promising a sincere renewal of friendship, and the confederates pledging themselves to defend the duke. He was to continue to them their engagements as condottieri, and they were to assist him to recover the duchy of Urbino. It was agreed that one only of the confederates at a time should be called on to remain in the duke's camp, and in his power; but they promised to deliver to him their children and near relatives as hostages, whenever they should be demanded. Such is a sketch of a treaty which dissolved a confederacy so formidable to Borgia, and placed him, without drawing a sword, in a position as favourable as when his enemies first assembled at Magione.

Machiavelli could not be deceived by this apparent reconciliation; and he was eager to discover Borgia's secret views. Far from being consulted concerning his plans, he now found it very difficult to obtain an audience:—"For," he writes, "they live here only for their own good, and for that which appears to them to contribute to it. Paolo Orsini arrived yesterday, bringing the articles ratified and subscribed by Vitellozzo and all the other confederates; and he endeavours, as well as he can, to persuade the duke, that they all mean to be faithful, and to undertake any enterprise for him. The duke appears satisfied. Vitellozzo also writes grateful and submissive letters, excusing himself and making offers; and saying, that if he had an opportunity to speak to him, he could fully justify himself, and show that what he had done was without any intention of injuring him. The duke listens to all; and what he means to do no one knows, for it is very difficult to penetrate him. Judging by his words and those of his chief ministers, it is impossible not to expect evil for others, for the injury done him has been great; and his conversation, and that of those around him, is full of indignation against Vitellozzo.[117] One spoke to me yesterday, who is the man nearest the duke, saying, 'This traitor has stabbed us, and now thinks to heal the wound with words, but children might laugh at the articles of this treaty.'"

The treaty being ratified, it was debated what action the duke should put the captains upon. After a good deal of discussion, it was agreed that they should go against Sinigaglia, a town belonging to the duke of Urbino. While this enterprise was under consideration, Borgia left Imola. Machiavelli writes, on the 10th of December, "The duke left this place this morning, and is gone to Forli with his whole army. To-morrow evening he will be at Cesena; but it is not known what he will do after that; nor is there any one here who fancies that he can guess. I shall set out to-morrow, and follow the court—unwillingly, because I am not well; and, in addition to my indisposition, I have received from your lordships fifty ducats, and I have spent seventy-two, having only seven left in my purse. But I must obey necessity."

On the 14th of December, Machiavelli writes, from Cesena, "As I before wrote, every one is in suspense with regard to the duke's intentions, who is here with all his forces. After many conjectures, they conclude that he means to get possession of the persons of those who have so deeply injured, and nearly deprived him of his dominions: and although the treaty he has made contradicts this notion, yet his past actions render it probable; and I am of this opinion from what I have heard and reported in my letters. We shall see what will happen; and I will do my duty in acquainting you with all that passes while I remain here: which cannot be long; for, in the first place, I have only four ducats left in my purse; and in the second, my further stay is of no utility. To speak to your lordships with the truth which I have always practised, it would be better if you sent a person of more reputation to treat of your affairs: I am not fit, as they need a more eloquent man—one more known, and who knows the world better than I." It would seem as if Machiavelli tremblingly foresaw the tragedy at hand, and wished to withdraw; in fear, perhaps, of being used as an instrument by Borgia, or suspected of any participation in his crimes.

On the 23d of December, he reports that the duke had suddenly dismissed all his French troops. He had requested an audience, to discover the cause of this movement; but received only an evasive answer,—that the duke would send for him when he wanted him. It soon became evident that the ease with which the confederates fell into Borgia's snares, rendered useless the armed force he had gathered together for their destruction; and he dismissed an army, the maintaining of which might excite suspicion.

Again Machiavelli writes, from Cesena, on the 26th of December, "I have not been able to obtain an audience of the duke, his excellency being engaged in reviewing his infantry, and in his pleasures, preparatory to Christmas. As I have before repeated, this prince is most secret; nor do I believe that any one except himself is aware of what he is going to do. His principal secretaries have assured me that he never communicates any thing till the moment of execution; and he executes on the instant: so I hope you will not accuse me of negligence, in not being able to tell any thing; as I know nothing myself."

The catastrophe was now at hand. The captains sent Borgia word that they had taken Sinigaglia, but that the fortress still held out; nor would the castellan deliver the keys to any but the duke in person; and they advised him, therefore, to come to receive them. Thus invited by the captains themselves, Borgia thought it an excellent opportunity to approach them without exciting suspicion. With great art he persuaded Vitelli and Paolo Orsino to wait for him at Sinigaglia, saying that their suspicion and timidity would render their reconciliation unstable and short-lived. Vitellozzo felt how unsafe it was, first to injure a prince, and then to put trust in him: but he was over-persuaded to remain by Orsino, whom the duke had corrupted by promises and gifts. Borgia left Fano on the 30th of December, and on the following day repaired to Sinigaglia; and on the evening of the last day of that month. Machiavelli wrote a short note to his government from that town, containing these words only:—"I wrote, the day before yesterday, from Pesaro, all I had heard concerning Sinigaglia.[118] I removed yesterday to Fano. Early this morning, the duke departed with all his troops, and came here to Sinigaglia, where were assembled all the Orsini and Vitellozzo, who had taken the town for him. He invited them to come around him; and, the moment he entered the town, he turned to his guard, and caused them to be taken prisoners. Thus he has secured them all, and the town is being pillaged. It is now twenty-three o'clock.[119] I am in the greatest anxiety, not knowing how to forward this letter, as there is no one to take it. I will write at length in another. In my opinion, they will not be alive to-morrow. All their people are also taken; and the official notice distributed about, says that the traitors are arrested."

In another place. Machiavelli gives the details of the mode in which these men were deluded into trusting themselves in the hands of one so notorious for perfidy and sanguinary revenge.[120] "On the 30th of December," he says, "on setting out from Fano, the duke communicated his design to eight of his most faithful followers. He committed to their care, that, when Vitellozzo, Paolo Orsino, the duke of Gravina, and Oliverotto da Fermo should advance to meet him, two of his friends should take one of them between them; and that they should thus continue to guard them till they reached the house where the duke was to lodge. He then stationed his troops so as to be near enough to support him, without exciting suspicion. The confederates, meanwhile, to afford room for the soldiery which Borgia brought with him, had caused their own to retire to various castles six miles distant, Oliverotto alone retaining his hand of 1000 foot and 150 horse. Every thing being thus arranged, Borgia proceeded to Sinigaglia. Vitellozzo, Paolo Orsino, and the duke of Gravina came out to meet him, mounted on mules, and accompanied by a few followers on horseback. Vitellozzo was unarmed; and his desponding countenance seemed prophetic of his approaching death. It was said that he took, as it were, a last leave of his friends when he left the town; recommending the fortunes of his family to the chief among them, and bidding his nephews bear in mind the virtues of their race. These three were received cordially by the duke, and immediately taken in charge, as had been arranged. Perceiving that Oliverotto da Fermo was not among them—he having remained with his troop to receive Borgia in the market-place—he signed to one of his followers to devise some means to prevent his escape. This man went instantly to Oliverotto, and advised him to order his men to repair to quarters immediately, otherwise their lodgings would be occupied by the band accompanying the duke. Oliverotto listened to the sinister counsel, and, unaccompanied, joined Borgia and the rest on their entrance into the town. As soon as they arrived at the duke's palace, the signal was given, and they were made prisoners." Machiavelli's anticipations were fulfilled nearly to the letter. Vitellozzo and Oliverotto were strangled in prison the same night. Paolo Orsino and the duke of Gravina were kept alive till Borgia heard that the pope had seized on the persons of the other chiefs of the Orsini family; when, on the 18th of the January following, they were also strangled in prison.

On the very day of the execution of this treacherous and cruel act of revenge. Machiavelli had an audience with its perpetrator. He writes, "The duke sent for me at the second hour of night[121], and with a most cheerful countenance congratulated himself and me on his success, saying that he had alluded to it to me the day before, but not fully explained himself: which is true. He added many prudent and very affectionate expressions concerning our city; alleging all those reasons which made him desire your friendship, if you entertain the same feelings towards him; all of which filled me with exceeding surprise. He concluded by bidding me write three things to you. First, that I should congratulate you on his having put to death the enemies alike of the king of France, you, and himself, and destroyed every seed of dissention which had threatened to ruin Italy; for which you ought to be obliged to him. Secondly, he begged me to entreat you to make manifest to the world that you were his friends, and to send forward some troops to assist his attack on Castello or Perugia."

On the 8th of January, Machiavelli uses expressions in his letter most characteristic of Italian policy and morals at that period. "It excites surprise here," he writes, "that you should not have written nor sent to congratulate the duke on the deed which he has lately executed, which redounds to your advantage, and on account of which our city ought to feel grateful; they say that it would have cost the republic 200,000 ducats to get rid of Vitellozzo and the Orsini, and even then it would not have been so completely done as by the duke. It is doubtful what his success will be at Perugia: as, on one side, we find a prince gifted with unparalleled good fortune, and a sanguine spirit, more than human, to accomplish all his desires; and, on the other hand, a man of extreme prudence, governing a state with great reputation." The secretary adds, with praiseworthy diffidence, and considerable self-knowledge, "If I form a false judgment, it arises not only from my inexperience, but also from my views being confined to what is going on here, on which I am led to form the opinions I have expressed above."

The republic now thought it time to replace Machiavelli by an ambassador of more authority; and the secretary returned to Florence at the end of the month of January.

1503.

It is evident from this detail, taken from Machiavelli's own letters, that he was not intrusted with the secret of a prince, who, he says, never revealed his purposes to any one before the moment of execution. Yet it is also plain that, at last, he began to suspect the tragedy in preparation; and that neither the anticipation nor the fulfilment inspired him with abhorrence for the murderer; while his contempt of the confederates, and admiration of the talents and success of their destroyer, is every where apparent: nor was this a short-lived feeling. Without mentioning the "Prince," in which this act of Borgia is alluded to with praise, he is mentioned with approbation in several of his private letters. He wrote "A Description of the Method used by the Valentian Duke in putting to death Vitellozzo Vitelli, &c." This is purely narrative, and contains no word of comment or censure. There is besides a poem of his, entitled "The Decenal," in which he proposes to relate the sufferings of Italy during ten years: in this he mentions the crime of Borgia. "After the duke of Valence," he says, "had exculpated himself to the king of France, he returned to Romagna, with the intention of going against Bologna. It appears that Vitellozzo Vitelli and Paolo Orsino resolved not to assist him; and these serpents, full of venom, began to conspire together, and to tear him with their talons and teeth. Borgia, ill able to defend himself, was obliged to take refuge behind the shield of France; and to take his enemies by a snare, the basilisk whistled softly, to allure them to his den. In a short time, the traitor of Fermo, and Vitellozzo, and that Orsino who had been so much his friend, fell readily into his toils; in which the Orsino (bear) lost more than a paw; and Vitelli was shorn of the other horn (alluding to his brother's death at Florence as one horn). Perugia and Siena heard the boast of the hydra, and each tyrant fled before his fury: nor could the cardinal Orsino escape the ruin of his unhappy house, but died the victim of a thousand arts."

It must be mentioned that, notwithstanding individual acts of ferocity of which Cæsar Borgia was guilty, he was an equitable sovereign—favouring the common people, and restraining the nobles in their sanguinary quarrels and extortionate oppression. His subjects were, therefore, much attached to him. There is an anecdote relating to his system of government, narrated in the "Prince," which may be quoted as exceedingly characteristic. It is one of the examples brought forward by Machiavelli in his treatise, to show how a prince can prudently consolidate his power in a newly acquired state. "When the duke had taken Romagna, he found it governed by feeble lords, who had rather robbed than corrupted their subjects, and sown discord rather than preserved peace—so that this province was the prey of extortion, lawlessness, and all other kind of oppression. He judged it necessary to govern it strictly, and to reduce it to obedience and tranquillity. For this purpose he set over it Ramiro d'Orco, a cruel and resolute man, to whom he confided absolute power. He soon established order in the province. The duke then judged that so despotic an authority might become odious; and he set up a civil court in the middle of the province, with an excellent president, at which each city had its advocate. And because he knew that the former rigor had generated hatred, to conciliate and win this people, he wished to prove that the cruelties that had been practised did not emanate from him, but from the severity of his minister; and seizing Ramiro, he caused him one morning to be placed on a scaffold in the market-place of Cesena, divided in two, with a wooden block and bloody knife at his side. The horror of which spectacle caused the people to remain for some time satisfied and stupid."

This act took place under the very eyes of Machiavelli, when he was at Cesena with Borgia. He thus mentions it in his public correspondence:—"Messer Ramiro was found this morning divided in two in the market-place, where he yet is, and all the people can behold him. The cause of his death is not well known, except that it seemed good to the prince, who shows that he knows how to make and unmake men at will, according to their merits."

To us, who cannot sympathise with the high spirit and good fortune of Borgia, it is consolatory to know that his triumph was short-lived, and his ruin complete. It fell to Machiavelli to witness the last scene of his expiring power, being sent on a legation to Rome at the time of his downfall.

1503.

The duke of Valence was still enjoying the complete success of his enterprises: courage and duplicity, united, rendered him victorious over all his enemies. He was at Rome, carrying on a negotiation with the king of France, which was to extend and secure his power, when suddenly, one afternoon, the pope was brought back dead from a vineyard, whither he had gone to recreate himself after the heats of the day; and Cæsar was also brought back soon after, to all appearance dying. Aug.
28. The story went that they were both poisoned, having drunk by mistake some wine prepared by themselves for the destruction of one of their guests.[122] The pope's body was exposed in St. Peter's on the following day, according to custom; it was swollen, discoloured, and frightfully disfigured. Cæsar's youth, and the speedy use he had made of an antidote, saved his life; but he remained for a long time in a state of great suffering and illness. He told Machiavelli, about this time, that he had foreseen and provided against every reverse of fortune that could possibly befall him, except his father dying at a time when he should himself be disabled by disease. He could now enter but ineffectually into the intrigues necessary to ensure the election of a pope favourable to himself. Indeed, the death of Alexander was so sudden, that none of the persons interested found time to exert their resources; and a cardinal was raised to the pontifical throne, whose sole merit consisted in his great age and decrepitude. Francesco Picolomini, nephew of Pius II., was proclaimed pope on the 22d of September, under the name of Pius III.

He did not deceive the hopes of the cardinals;—he reigned twenty-eight days only; and his death, which occurred on the 18th of October, left the throne again vacant. The cardinals, during this interval, had prepared their measures, and looked forward to a greater struggle and more important choice. 1503.
Ætat.
34. The government of Florence thought it right to send an envoy, on this occasion, to watch over its interests, and to influence consultations which would be held concerning the future destination of Borgia. He had already lost the greater part of his conquests: Piombino and Urbino revolted to their former lords; and nothing remained to him but Romagna, whose inhabitants he had attached by the firm system of government before mentioned. The nobles, however, who had formerly governed its various towns, were trying to regain possession of them; and Venice eyed it as an easy prey. The popes believed, that by right, it belonged to them; and Borgia had reigned over it as vassal to the church: this clash of interests led him to believe that he could induce any future pope to side with him. The neighbourhood of the cities in question to Tuscany, rendered it imperative to Florence to watch over their fate.

Machiavelli was sent by them just before the cardinals entered into conclave—where, without hesitation or a dissentient voice, they elected Julian da Rovera, cardinal of San Pietro in Vincola, who assumed the name of Julius II. This prelate had been all his life at open enmity with Alexander VI.: his disposition was ambitious, restless, fiery, and obstinate; and during the struggles against the papal power in which he had been engaged all his life, he had offended many, and excited the hatred of a number of powerful persons. Above all, it was to be supposed that Cæsar Borgia would oppose him; and he exercised great influence over the Spanish cardinals. But the duke had to contend with much adversity, so that he had but a choice of evils before him. During this interval, even Romagna had fallen from him, with the exception of its fortresses, of which he possessed the keys. Julian da Rovera made him large promises; and in an age when duplicity flourished far and wide, he had been celebrated for his veracity and good faith; even his old enemy, Alexander VI., declared that the cardinal di San Pietro in Vincola was sincere and trusty.

As soon as the new pope was elected, it was projected to send Borgia with an army to Romagna, to conquer it in the name of the holy see. Machiavelli had frequent interviews with the fallen prince at this time, and appears to have thrown off that admiration which his success and spirit had formerly inspired; and he testifies no sympathy or regret in his misfortunes. Borgia complained of the little friendship shown him by Florence; and declared that he would relinquish every other hope, for the sake of attacking and ruining the republic. The secretary reports his angry expressions to his government, and adds the words of cardinal d'Amboise, who exclaimed that "God, who never left any crime unpunished, would not let this man escape with impunity!"

The career of this bad hero was now drawing to a close. In the month of November, he set out in the middle of the night for Ostia, to the great satisfaction of all Rome, for the purpose of embarking for Spezia, with a troop of five hundred men, and then of proceeding to Romagna. But the pope, who had hitherto given no mark of an intention to break his promises, suddenly determined to violate that good faith which had formerly adorned his character, and sent the Tuscan cardinal of Volterra (who was of course Borgia's hitter enemy) after him, to demand an order to the officers who held the castles in Romagna, that they should be given into the pope's hands. Borgia refused to comply with a requisition which deprived him of the last remnant of his power; on which he was arrested and placed on hoard a French galley. "It is not yet known," Machiavelli writes to his government on the 26th of November, "whether the duke is still on hoard the vessel, or brought here. Various things are reported. One person told me that, being yesterday evening in the pope's chamber, two men arrived from Ostia, when he was immediately dismissed; but, while in the next room, he overheard these men say that the duke had been thrown into the Tiber, as the pope had commanded.[123] I do not quite believe in this story, but I do not deny it; and, I dare say, if it has not already happened, it will happen. The pope, it is evident, is beginning to pay his debts honourably, and cancels them with a stroke of his pen. Every one, however, blesses this deed; and the more he does of the like, the more popular will he be. Since the duke is taken, whether he be alive or dead, no account need be made of him. Nevertheless, when I hear any thing certain, you shall have intelligence."

The pope, however, had not yet learnt wholly to despise the force of promises and oaths. Borgia was brought back to the Vatican, and treated honourably. It was supposed at one time that he would be proceeded against legally: and Machiavelli several times pressed his government to send him the papers necessary to institute any accusation on their part. At length, the duke gave the order to his castellans to surrender the fortresses in question to the pope, and was set at liberty. He instantly repaired to Naples, possessed of nothing more than a sum of money which he had deposited with the Genoese bankers, but happy in having recovered his personal freedom. His ambitious mind quickly conceived new schemes; and he tried to persuade the Spanish general at Naples, Consalvo, to assist him in his project of throwing himself into Pisa, and of defending it against Florence. Consalvo listened and temporised, till he received the directions of his sovereign, which he immediately obeyed. In conformity with these, Borgia was arrested and sent on board a galley, which conveyed him to Spain. On his arrival, he was confined in the fortress of Medina del Campo, there to remain during his life. He continued a prisoner, however, for two years only. In 1506, with great audacity and labour, he let himself down from the castle by a rope, and fled to the court of John king of Navarre, who was his wife's brother; where he lived for some years in a humble state, the king of France having confiscated his duchy of Valence, and forbidding him to enter France. Finally, having gone out with the forces of the king of Navarre to attack Viana, an insignificant castle of that kingdom, he was surprised by an ambush, and killed.

We have anticipated a little, to conclude the history of this man, who figures so prominently in Machiavelli's writings, and now return to the secretary himself. We have not space to dilate with the same minuteness on his succeeding embassies; and there is nothing in them of peculiar interest. His letters are always full of keen observation; and show him to have been sagacious, faithful, and diligent. The republic kept him actively employed; and the end of one legation was the beginning of another. 1504.
Ætat.
35. He left Rome, after Borgia's arrest, in December; and, in the January following, went to France, to ask the protection of Louis against the dangers which Florence imagined to threaten them from the Spanish army at Naples. 1505.
Ætat.
36. A peace, concluded between France and Spain, dissipated these fears; and the secretary, after a month's residence at Lyons, returned to his own country. After this, he was sent on four insignificant missions to Piombino, Perugia, Mantua, and Siena. His next employment was to raise troops in the Florentine territories.

1506.
Ætat.
37.

Machiavelli was too clear-sighted and well-judging, not to perceive the various and great evils that resulted from the republic engaging condottieri to fight its battles. He endeavoured to impress upon the signoria the advantages that would arise from the formation of a native militia; and, at length, succeeded. A law was passed for the enrolling the peasantry, and he was charged with the execution. His proceedings were conducted with patience and industry: his letters contain accounts of the obstacles he met from the prejudices of the people with whom he had to deal, the pains he took to obviate them, and the care he was at to select recruits who might be depended on.

Pope Julius, at this time, had conceived the project of reducing to obedience to the holy see all those towns which he considered as rightfully belonging to it. He obtained promises of aid from France; demanded it from Florence; and then set out on an expedition against Giovanni Bentivoglio, lord of Bologna. The Florentines were anxious, from economical motives, to defer sending their quota as long as they could; and they delegated their secretary to the court militant of Rome, to make excuses, and to watch over the progress of its arms. Machiavelli joined the court at Cività Castellana, and proceeded with it to Viterbo, Perugia, Urbino, and Imola. 1506. His letters during this legation are highly interesting; presenting a lively picture of the violence and impetuosity of Julius II., whose resolute and intelligent countenance Raphael has depicted on canvas in so masterly a manner. When Bentivoglio sent ambassadors to him, he actually scolded them—addressing them in public, and using, as the secretary says, the most angry and venomous expressions. Machiavelli adds: "Every one believes that, if he succeeds with regard to Bologna, he will lose no time in attempting greater things; and it is hoped that Italy will be preserved from him who attempted to devour it (meaning the king of France).—Now, or never." Bentivoglio made some preparations to fortify Bologna; but, on the arrival of troops from France in aid of his enemy, his heart failed him and he entered into a treaty, by which he preserved his private property; and then, with his wife and children, he abandoned the city he had so long reigned over, and took refuge in the duchy of Milan.

It was apprehended, at this time, that the emperor Maximilian would enter Italy with an army; and its various states sent ambassadors to him, to make favourable terms. The emperor had applied to Florence for money; and the republic sent Francesco Vettori to treat concerning the sum. 1507.
Ætat.
38. They afterwards sent Machiavelli with their ultimatum. Both ambassador and secretary remained some time at Trent, waiting on the imperial court. 1508.
Ætat.
39. Machiavelli employed himself in making observations on the state of the country, which he reduced to writing, in a brief "Account of Germany," on his return. He had before drawn up a similar account of the state of France.

The favourite object of Florence continued to be the reduction of Pisa. They purchased permission to attack it, from the kings of France and Spain, for a large sum of money. 1509.
Ætat.
40. They besieged the town, dividing their army into three divisions, which blockaded it on three sides. The camps were each commanded by commissaries; and Machiavelli was sent thither to advise with and assist them. He passed from one camp to the other, to watch over the execution of the measures concerted for the siege; and, at one time, went to Piombino, to meet some deputies from Pisa, to arrange a treaty; but it came to nothing, and he returned to the army. He was much trusted by his government; and one of the commissaries, in writing to the signoria, observes, "Niccolò Machiavelli left us to-day, to review the troops of the other camp. I have directed him to return here, as you order; and I wish for nothing so much as to have him with me."

After a blockade of three months, Pisa surrendered. The Florentine republic behaved with the greatest generosity and humanity, and kept terms faithfully with a people who had injured them deeply, and were now wholly at their mercy.

Late in the same year, Machiavelli was employed to convey to Mantua the money composing a part of the subsidy of Florence to the emperor. After having discharged this office, he was ordered to repair to Verona, "or," as his instructions say, "wherever it seems best, to learn and communicate intelligence of the actual state of affairs. You will diligently write us word of every thing that happens worthy of notice, changing the place of your abode each day." That part of Italy was, at that time, the seat of a cruel and destructive war carried on between the emperor and the republic of Venice.

There existed a great spirit of enmity between Louis XII. and the pope. Julius II. was a violent and implacable man: his former suspicions against the French monarch were changed into excessive hatred. He was animated, also, by the desire of acquiring the glory of liberating Italy from the barbarians.[124] He sent troops against Genoa, which belonged to the king; Florence had been unable to refuse a safe passage for them through their territory: at the same time, fearing that this concession had offended Louis, they despatched Machiavelli to make their excuses. June,
1510.
Ætat.
41. His letters, during this mission, disclose a curious system of bribery with regard to the ministers of the king. Cardinal d'Amboise had always shown himself friendly towards the republic; but this friendship had been purchased by gold. He died a month before the arrival of the secretary, who writes thus to the signoria:—"I had a long conversation with Alessandro Nasi concerning the donations, that I might understand how I ought to regulate myself with regard to them. He promised the chancellor Robertet and the marshal Chaumont d'Amboise to pay what is due to them, during the ensuing month of August. He told me, that he did not think that the 10,000 ducats, which were sent here for the cardinal d'Amboise, and which were not paid, on account of his death, could be saved for the city, except in one way; which was, by distributing them between the chancellor and marshal, as a portion of what is due to them."

He had an audience with the king at Blois. There was no Florentine ambassador at this time at the French court; Machiavelli was merely an envoy, with his title of secretary: the king, therefore, treated him with little ceremony; but he received him kindly, declaring his belief in the friendship of Florence, but desiring some further proof of it. "Secretary," he said, "I am not at enmity with the pope, nor any one else; but as new friendships and enmities arise each day, I wish your government to declare at once what they will do in my favour: and do you write word to them, that I offer all the forces of this kingdom, and to come in person, to save their state, if necessary."[125]

It was a difficult part for Florence, between France their ancient ally, and the stern vindictive pope. Some time before, during their difficulties, the republic had in some degree changed their form of government, and elected a gonfaloniere or doge for life, instead of changing every year; their choice had fallen on Pietro Soderini, a man of integrity, but feeble and timid. The king of France, pushed to the utmost by the pope, determined to call together a council, to dethrone him. Florence offered him the city of Pisa, for it to be held; and then, terrified by the menaces of Julius II., sent Machiavelli to Louis, to endeavour to recall this offer, but in vain. 1511.
Ætat.
42. The council met, and the secretary was sent to attend upon it; it came to nothing, however. Only four cardinals met, they were ill treated by the people, discountenanced by the Italian clergy, and dissatisfied with themselves: after holding two sessions at Pisa, they transferred themselves to Milan.

The result of this open attack of Louis upon the power of the pope animated the latter to renewed endeavours to expel the king from Italy: he formed a league with Spain and Venice against the French power, and a disastrous war was the consequence. 1512.
Ætat.
43. At one time the French obtained a victory at Ravenna, which was detrimental to them, since Gaston de Foix and 10,000 of their bravest soldiers were left on the field of battle. Florence remained neuter during this struggle, but the republic was accused of a secret partiality for France, and its punishment was resolved upon at the diet of Mantua.

The Medici family still hovered round Florence, desirous of reinstating themselves in their ancient seats, and of reassuming the power enjoyed by their forefathers. Piero de' Medici had fallen in the battle of the Gariglano, some years before; he left a son named Lorenzo, and a daughter, Clarice. His brother the cardinal Giovanni had, while he perceived his cause hopeless, quitted Italy, and visited many parts of France and Germany, nor returned to Rome till the elevation of Julius II.: from that time he took an important part in the public affairs of Italy, and was appointed legate during the war. His influence was exerted during the diet of Mantua, and the punishment of Florence was decreed to consist in the overthrow of the existing government, and the restoration of the Medici. The details of the expedition of the allies against the republic are related by Machiavelli in a private letter, which, though highly interesting, is too long to extract.[126] The gonfaloniere Soderini exerted some energy at the commencement of the struggle, but was unable to hold out long. The army, under the command of the viceroy of Naples, entered Tuscany, and taking Prato by assault, massacred its inhabitants without respect for age or sex. The Florentines were alarmed by this cruelty, and resolved to submit. Soderini and his partisans quitted the city and repaired to Siena, and the Medici entered Florence. The cardinal was at their head, accompanied by his younger brother Giuliano, his nephew Lorenzo, son of Piero, and his cousin Julius de' Medici, descended from the brother of Cosmo.

Thus fell a government which Machiavelli had served faithfully for fourteen years. His labours had been great during this period, the honours he enjoyed of no conspicuous nature, and his emoluments were very slender. When on his various missions, he was allowed only a trifling addition to his salary as secretary, which frequently was not commensurate to his increased expenditure, and afforded no room for luxury or display. "It is true," he writes to the signoria from Verona, "that I spend more than the ducat a day that you allow me for my expenses; nevertheless, now, as heretofore, I shall be satisfied with whatever you please to give." There was nothing mercenary in Machiavelli's disposition, and he seems perfectly content with continuing in the office he enjoyed, without rising higher. He went on his legations always in the character of envoy, at such times when the republic thought it best to treat by means of a delegate less costly and of less authority than an ambassador. Thus his letters often ask to be replaced by a minister entrusted with more extensive powers. Evidently, throughout his active career, he had the good of his country only at heart. He was steady, faithful, and industrious: he recommended himself to the powers to whom he was sent by his intelligence and his want, of pretension. Up to the moment of Soderini's exile, he acted for the Gonfaloniere and his council. His last office was to gather the militia together, for the purpose of checking the advance of the viceroy through the passages of the Apennines. He was too late, and his forces were too scanty; for Pietro Soderini, timid and temporising, did not give credit to the extent of danger that menaced him till the last moment. His fear of appearing ambitious, and making himself obnoxious to his fellow citizens, prevented him from taking those resolute measures necessary for his safety: but Machiavelli continued faithful to him, till the moment he quitted the city. Then he turned his eyes to the new government and the Medici, who, though introduced under had auspices, showed no disposition to tyrannise over their fellow-citizens. He was poor, and had a large family; and, though a lover of liberty, was not personally attached to the fallen Gonfaloniere. The forms of government continued the same, and he was still secretary to the Council of Ten. He desired and expected to continue in office, and to exercise functions, which could not be otherwise than beneficial to his country.

His hopes were deceived: he was considered by the Medici as too firm an adherent of the adverse party. He was deprived of his place, and sentenced not to quit for one year the territory of the republic, nor to enter the palace of government. But this was not the end, it was only the beginning, of his disasters. Shortly after, the enemies of the Medici conspired against them: the conspiracy was discovered, and two of the chief among them were beheaded. Machiavelli was supposed to be implicated in the plot: he was thrown into prison, and put to the torture. No confession could be extorted from him, and it is possible that he was entirely innocent of the alleged crime. He was soon after comprised in the act of amnesty published by the new pope. On the death of Julius II., cardinal de' Medici was elevated to the pontifical throne; he assumed the name of Leo X., and signalised his exaltation by this act of clemency. On his liberation Machiavelli wrote to his friend Francesco Vettori, the Florentine ambassador at the papal court, who had exerted himself in his favour, in these terms:—"You have heard from Paolo Vettori that I am come out of prison, to the universal joy of this city. I will not relate the long story of my misfortunes; and will only say, that fate has done her utmost to bring them about; but, thank God, they are at an end. I hope to be safe for the future, partly because I intend to be more cautious, and partly because the times are more liberal and less suspicious."

1513.
Ætat.
44.

Francesco Vettori, on hearing of his liberation, had already written, and their letters crossed on the road. "Honoured friend," he wrote, "I have suffered greater grief during these last eight months than I ever endured during the course of my whole life before: but the worst was when I knew that you were arrested, as I feared that, without cause or fault of yours, you would be put to the torture, as was really the case. I am sorry that I could not assist you, as you had a right to expect; but as soon as the pope was created, I asked him no favour except your liberation, which I am glad to find had already taken place. And now, dear friend, I have to entreat you to take heart during this persecution, as you have done on other occasions: and I hope, as things are now tranquil, and their (the Medici) good fortune transcends all imagination, that you will soon he permitted to quit Tuscany. If I remain here, I wish you would come to me, for as long a time as you like."

"Rome, 15th of March, 1513.

Machiavelli replies:—

"Your very kind letter has made me forget my past disasters; and although I was convinced of the affection you bore me, yet your letter delighted me. I thank you heartily, and pray God that I may be able to show my gratitude to your advantage. You may derive this pleasure from my misfortunes, that I think well of myself for the courage with which I bore them, so that I feel myself of more value than I before gave myself credit for: and if my masters, the magnificent Giuliano and your Paolo, to whom I owe my life, will raise me from the earth, I think they will hereafter have cause to congratulate themselves. If they will not, I shall live as I have done before; for I was born poor, and I learnt to suffer before I learnt to enjoy. If you remain at Rome, I will spend some time with you, as you advise. All our friends salute you. Every day we assemble at some lady's house, so to recover our strength. Yesterday we went to see the procession in the house of Sandra di Pero, and thus we pass our time during this universal rejoicing, enjoying the remnant of life, which appears to me like a dream. Valete.

"Florence, 18th of March, 1513.

From this time till the end of his life we possess a series of Machiavelli's private correspondence, of the most valuable kind. His chief friend was Vettori, who continued to reside as ambassador at Rome. Some of their letters are long political discussions, which Vettori drew Machiavelli in to write, that he might show them to pope Leo X., and excite him to admire and employ his talents. His endeavours were without success. Machiavelli continued for many years to live in obscurity, sometimes at Florence, sometimes at his country-house at San Casciano, a bathing town among the hills, south of Pisa. His letters from Florence contain the gossip of their acquaintance,—amusing anecdotes that paint the manners, while they give us no exalted idea of the morals, of the Italians of those days. Machiavelli himself had no poetry nor delicacy of imagination: his feelings were impetuous, and his active mind required some passion or pursuit to fill it. He bitterly laments the inaction of his life, and expresses an ardent desire to be employed. Meanwhile, he created occupation for himself; and it is one of the lessons that we may derive from becoming acquainted with the feelings and actions of celebrated men, to learn that this very period, during which Machiavelli repined at the neglect of his contemporaries, and the tranquillity of his life, was that during which his fame took root, and which brought his name down to us. He occupied his leisure in writing those works which have occasioned his immortality. No one would have searched the Florentine archives for his public correspondence, acute and instructive as it is, nor would his private letters now lie before us, if he had not established a name through his other writings. He wrote them to bring himself into present notice, and to show the Medici the worth of that man whom they dishonoured and neglected.

One of his letters from the country to Vettori, is so interesting, and so necessary to the appreciation of his character, that we give it at length:—

"Tarde non furon mai grazie divine. Divine favours never come too late. I say this, because it seemed to me that I had, not lost, but mislaid your kindness, you having remained so long without writing to me, that I wondered what might be the cause. Your last of the 23d dissipated my doubts, and I am delighted to find how quietly and regularly you fulfil your office. I advise you to go on thus; for whosoever neglects his own affairs for those of others, injures himself and gets no thanks. As fortune chooses to dispose of our lives, let her alone. Do not exert yourself, but wait till she urges other men to do something, when it will be time for you to come forward, and for me to say. Here I am. I cannot thank you in any way except by giving you an account of my life here; and you may see whether it is worth exchanging for yours.

"I remain at my country house; and since the last events I have not spent in all twenty days in Florence. I have hitherto been killing thrushes. Rising before daylight I prepared my snares, and set off with a bundle of cages at my back, so that I resembled Geta, when he returns from the harbour with Amphytrion's books. I took two or at most seven thrushes each day.[127] Thus passed September, since when, to my great annoyance, this diversion has failed me; and my life has been such as I will now detail. I rise with the sun, and go to a wood of mine, which I am cutting; where I remain a couple of hours, reviewing the work of the past day, and talking with the woodcutters, who are always in trouble either for themselves or their neighbours. I have a thousand entertaining things to tell you, which have happened with regard to this wood[128], between me and Fresino da Panzaro and others, who wanted to buy some of the wood. Frosino sent for several loads without saying a word to me; and on payment wanted to keep back ten livres, which he says he ought to have had from me four years ago, having won it at play, at the house of Antonio Guicciardini. I began to play the devil, and to accuse the carrier of cheating, on which G. Machiavelli interfered, and brought us to agree. When the north wind blew, Battista Guicciardini, Filippo Ginori, Tommaso del Bene, and several other citizens took a load. I promised some to all, and sent one to Tommaso, half of which went to Florence, because he and his wife and children were there to receive it. So, seeing I gained nothing by it, I told the others that I had no more wood, which made them all very angry, especially Battista, who numbers this among other state troubles. When I leave the wood I go to a fountain, where I watch my bird nets with a book in hand; either Dante or Petrarch, or one of the minor Latin poets—Tibullus, Ovid, or one similar. I read the accounts of their loves; I think of my own, and for a while enjoy these thoughts. Then I go to the inn on the road side; I talk with the passers by; ask the news of their villages; I hear many things, and remark on the various tastes and fancies of men. Meanwhile the hour of dinner arrives, and I dine with my family on such food as my poor house and slight patrimony afford. When I have dined, I return to the inn; where I usually find the host, a butcher, a miller, and two kiln men: with these I associate for the rest of the day, playing at cricca and tric-trac. We have a thousand squabbles; angry words are used, often about a farthing, and we wrangle so loudly, that you might hear us at San Casciano. Immersed in this vulgarity, I exhaust my spirits, and give free course to my evil fortune; letting her tread me thus under foot, with the hope that she will at last become ashamed of herself.

"When evening comes I return home, and shut myself up in my study. Before I make my appearance in it, I take off my rustic garb, soiled with mud and dirt, and put on a dress adapted for courts or cities. Thus fitly habited I enter the antique resorts of the ancients; where, being kindly received, I feed on that food which alone is mine, and for which I was born. For an interval of four hours I feel no annoyance; I forget every grief, I neither fear poverty nor death, but am totally immersed. As Dante says, 'No one learns a science unless he remembers what he is taught;' so have I noted down that store of knowledge which I have collected from this conversation; and have composed a little work on princely governments, in which I analyse the subject as deeply as I can, discussing what a principality is; how many kinds there are; in what way they are acquired; how kept; how lost: and if any devise of mine ever pleased you, this will not be displeasing. It ought to be acceptable to princes, and chiefly to a new prince, wherefore I address it to Giuliano de' Medici. Filippo Casavecchia has seen it, and can describe the thing to you, and recount the discussions we have had together about it. I am still adding to and polishing it.

"Your excellency desires that I should leave this place to go and enjoy myself with you. I will do so assuredly; but am detained by some affairs, which will keep me here about seven weeks. The only thing that causes me to hesitate is, that the Soderini are in your town; and I should be obliged to see and visit them; and I should be afraid on my return that, instead of alighting at my own door, I should alight at the gates of the prison; because, although our person here (Giuliano de' Medici) has secure foundation, and is fixed, yet he is new and suspicious; and there are not wanting meddling fellows, like Paolo Bertini, who would draw upon others and leave me all the trouble. Preserve me from this fear, and I will certainly come to you.

"I have talked with Philip concerning my little work, whether I shall dedicate it or not; and if I do, whether I shall present it myself, or send it to you. If I do not dedicate it, I fear that Giuliano will not even read it, but that Ardinghelli will get the honour of it. Necessity drives me to present it, for I pine away, and cannot remain long thus without becoming despicable through poverty. I wish these signori Medici would begin to make use of me, even if I commenced by rolling a stone, for if I did not afterwards gain their favour I should despise myself. And, therefore, if this book were read, they would see that, for the fifteen years during which I studied the arts of government, I neither slept nor played; and every one ought to be glad to make use of one who has learned experience at the expense of others. Nor need they doubt my fidelity; for having proved myself trustworthy hitherto, I would not alter now: he who has been faithful for forty-three years, as I have, cannot change his nature; and my poverty is a witness of my honour and disinterestedness.

"I wish you would tell me what you think on these matters, and so farewell.—Si felix.

"NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI.

"10th of December, 1513."

The expressions in this letter appear sufficiently clear, that he wrote "The Prince," for the purpose of recommending himself to the Medici, and of being employed by them. His sons afterwards declared to our countryman, cardinal Pole, that he alleged, his intention to be, to induce the Medici to render themselves so hateful to Florence, by acting on the maxims he laid down, as to cause them to be exiled anew. There is no trace of this idea in his private correspondence. Giuliano de' Medici was an amiable prince, and he often praises him highly. It is true that his work is dedicated to Lorenzo de' Medici; but this change was occasioned by the death of Giuliano. And even of Lorenzo, who was unpopular. Machiavelli writes thus to Vettori:—"I must give you some account of the proceedings of the Magnifico Lorenzo, which have hitherto been such as to fill the city with hope; so that every one begins to see his grandfather revived in him. He is diligent and affable, and causes himself to be loved and respected, rather than feared." Nor can it be believed that Machiavelli was so devoid of understanding, as to fancy that he could dupe men as intelligent as Leo X. and cardinal Julius, who were the heads of the family, by so barefaced an artifice. Besides that, the authority of the Medici was maintained by foreign arms, and the citizens were already very willing to get rid of them, as was proved a very few years after. Yet his real intentions form a question, perhaps, never to be decided. On one hand, the treatise is so broad and unplausible in its recommendations, that it is difficult to suppose him in earnest; and, on the other, it is so dry, and has in so small a degree the air of irony, that it can scarcely be regarded as a satire. If it is, it is ill done, since men have not yet agreed whether it is one or not.

Let us turn to the work itself, however, and present some analysis of a treatise which has been the subject of so much disquisition. Machiavelli, in the letter given above, professes to have written his book for the instruction of new princes,—principi nuovi,—sovereigns lately raised to power. Italy was then divided into small states, governed by a variety of lords. Sometimes one among them endeavoured, like Cæsar Borgia, to conquer a number of these, and to unite them into one state. Machiavelli taught how a prince thus situated might acquire and confirm his power. He adduces the example of the Duke of Valence, saying, "He does not know how to give better precepts to a new sovereign than those afforded by a view of Borgia's conduct."[129] He describes the course of his policy, applauds the perfidy with which he destroyed the confederates of Magione, and holds up the death of Ramiro d' Oreo as a laudable proceeding. He allows, that perseverance in cruelty on the part of a prince becomes unendurable. "And, therefore," he says, "a prince should determine to execute all his acts of blood at once, so that he may not be obliged each day to renew them; but give security to his subjects, and gain them by benefits. Injuries ought to be done at once, because thus they are less felt, and offend less; but benefits ought to be bestowed gradually, that they may produce a profounder impression."

The reader may judge whether this maxim is sagacious, and seriously enjoined; or mischievous, and therefore brought forward with sinister and sarcastic motives.

The first fourteen chapters are taken up by considering the various modes by which a prince acquires power—either by force of arms, or the favour of the citizens; being imposed on them by the aristocracy, or raised by the affection of the people. In the course of these considerations he remarks (chap, V.), that "he who becomes master of a city habituated to freedom, and does not destroy it, must expect to be destroyed by it; because it will, in every rebellion, take refuge in the name of liberty and its ancient rights, the memory of which can never be extinguished by time or benefits." The fifteenth chapter is headed,—"Concerning those things for which men, and principally sovereigns are praised or blamed." He begins by saying,—"It now remains to be seen what government and treatment a prince ought to observe with his subjects and friends. I know many people have written on this topic; and I expect, therefore, to be accused of presumption, in differing from the opinions of others in my view of the subject. But, it being my intention to write what is useful to those who rule, it appears to me better to follow up the truth of things, than to bring forward imaginary ideas." He adds, "A man who, instead of acting for the best, acts as he ought, seeks rather his ruin than his preservation. For he who resolves on all occasions to adhere to what is virtuous, must be destroyed by the many who are not virtuous. Hence it is necessary that a prince, who would maintain his power, should learn not to be virtuous, but to adapt the morality of his actions to the dictates of necessity." He then enumerates the good and bad qualities for which sovereigns are distinguished, and adds:—"I know that every one will confess that it would he laudable for a prince to possess all the above-mentioned qualities, which are considered virtuous; but human nature does not allow of this. It is necessary, however, that he should be prudent, and avoid the infamy of those vices which would deprive him of power; and it would be well if he avoided the others also, if it were possible; but if it be not possible, he may yield to them with less danger. And also he must not hesitate to incur the reputation of those vices, through which his government may be preserved; for, on deep consideration, it will be found that there is a line of conduct which appears right, but which leads to ruin: and there is another which appears vicious, but from which security and prosperity flow."

And this is what is called Machiavelian policy.

He goes on to show, that generosity, which is supported by extortion, must injure a prince more than parsimony, which makes no demands on the subject; he therefore advises a prince to gain a character for liberality, rather by being prodigal of the wealth of others than his own. "For," he says, "nothing consumes itself so much as liberality; for while you use it, you lose your power of so doing, and you become poor and despicable; or, to escape from poverty, grow rapacious and odious. A prince ought carefully to guard against becoming odious and contemptible: and liberality is one of the good qualities most likely to lead to this result, and therefore to be avoided."

He then treats of "Cruelty and clemency, and whether it is better to be feared or loved." He says;—"Every sovereign ought to desire to be esteemed merciful, and not cruel. Nevertheless, he ought to take care to what use he puts his mercy. Cæsar Borgia was considered cruel; nevertheless his cruelty subdued Romagna, and united it, and reduced it to peace and obedience. A prince, therefore, ought not to fear the reputation of cruelty, if by it he preserves his subjects tranquil and faithful. A few examples will be more merciful than tolerating disorders, through a compassion, which gives rise to assassinations and disturbances; for these injure the community, while the execution of offenders is injurious to individuals only." He then enters on a discussion of whether it is better for a prince to be loved or feared. He decides for the latter; for, he says, "Love is a duty, which, as men are wicked, is continually transgressed; but fear arises from the dread of punishment, which is never lost sight of." Nothing can be more false than this. Men like to be benefited even more than they dislike being injured; and love is a more universal passion than terror. He continues, "Still a prince, while he seeks to be feared, must avoid being hated—for fear is very distinct from hatred. And he ought always to avoid seizing on the goods of his subjects. He may, as far as is justified by the cause given, proceed against the life of an individual; but let him not touch the possessions. For men more easily forget the death of a father than the loss of patrimony." After stating this diabolical and false maxim in all its native deformity, he proceeds to consider the propriety of a sovereign's preserving his good faith: remarking, that though good faith and integrity are praiseworthy in a prince, experience in his own time shows those statesmen to have achieved the greatest things, who held truth in small esteem:—"For there are two ways of acting,—one by law and the other by force; the one for men, the other for animals; but when the first does not succeed, it is necessary to have recourse to the second; and a sovereign ought to know how to put the animal man to good use. A prudent prince cannot and ought not to observe faith, when such observance would injure him, or the occasions for which he pledged himself are at an end. A sovereign, therefore, need not possess all the virtues I have mentioned; but it is necessary that he should appear so to do. A prince cannot always practise the qualities which are esteemed good, being often obliged to maintain his power by acting against the dictates of humanity and religion. He must act conscientiously when he can; but when obliged, he ought to be capable of doing ill. A prince ought to take great care not to say a word that is not animated by good feeling, and he ought to appear full of pity, integrity, humanity, and religion; and there is nothing so necessary as that he should appear to attend to the last. Every one sees what you seem; few know what you are." Very false, notwithstanding its plausibility: children even have an instinct for detecting false appearances.

He tells princes to cherish the affections of the people; as, he says, if loved by his subjects, he need fear no conspiracy; but, hated by them, he has every thing to dread. He avers, also, that it is easier for a newly raised prince to make friends of those who opposed him, than to preserve the good will of his own partisans. He goes on to give much advice concerning the choice of ministers and courtiers, and concerning the influence of fortune over states; and shows how concord and constancy are the only modes by which a government can preserve itself during the variations of fortune; and that, above all, it is necessary not to submit timidly, but to command her by audacity and resolution.

He concludes by an exhortation to the Italians to drive the barbarians, French, Spaniards, and Germans, from their country. "It appears to me," he says, "considering all things, that there is an admirable opening for a new prince to introduce another state of things into Italy. Does not the whole land pray God to send her some one to free her from the barbarians? And is she not ready to follow any banner, if some one prince would display it? Nor do we see any house from which she can hope so much as yours (that of Lorenzo de' Medici) favoured as it is by God and the church; being at the head of which, it may lead us to this redemption. The justice of your cause is great, and the war will be just, and necessary, and pious. God, also, has opened the way for you. The Italians, however, must accustom themselves to the exercise of arms, if they would defend their country from foreign invaders. The infantry of other kingdoms have their defects: the Spaniards cannot stand the impetus of cavalry; the Swiss would fear any infantry which should show itself as strong as themselves. Let the Italians, therefore, form an army of foot that shall possess none of these defects, and which shall be able to resist the shock of both horse and foot; and this must be done by a novel style of command, by introducing which, a new ruler will acquire reputation and power. You ought not, therefore, to lose this opportunity of appearing as the deliverer of Italy. I cannot express with what affection such a one would be received in those provinces which have suffered from the inundation of foreign troops; with what thirst of vengeance, what resolute fidelity; with what piety, and what grateful tears he would be followed. What gates would be shut against him? what people would refuse to render him obedience? what Italian would hesitate to submit to his rule? Every one abhors the authority of the barbarians. Let, therefore, your illustrious house assume this enterprise, animated by that hope which a just cause inspires, so that your country may rise triumphant under your auspices."

There is nothing that is not patriotic and praiseworthy in these exhortations; and they were such, moreover, as were likely to gain the hearts of the Italians. If, therefore, he is previously sarcastic, he is serious here; and the mixture renders still more enigmatic the question of the aim he had in view in this work.

Besides "The Prince," Machiavelli wrote, at this time, his "Essays on the first Decade of Livy." These are considered by their author as his best work; an opinion confirmed by the learned Italians of the present day. They breathe a purely republican spirit, and have for their scope to demonstrate how the greatness of Rome resulted from the equal laws of the commonwealth, and the martial character of its citizens. He dedicated them to his friends Zanobi Buondelmonte, and Cosimo Rucellai, who were the patrons of the academy of the Rucellai gardens, a society set on foot by the father of Cosimo, for the support of the Platonic philosophy, and whose youthful followers were all devoted to liberty.

"The Art of War" was also written at this time, as well as his two comedies, his "Belfegor," and "Life of Castruccio Castracani." The "Belfegor" has laid him open to the supposition that he was not happy in his married life: but there is no foundation for this notion. He was, early in life, married to Marietta Corsini, and had five children. He always mentions his wife with affection and respect in his letters, and gives tokens, in his will, of the perfect confidence he reposed in her. "Belfegor" has always been a popular tale: it is written with great spirit, and possesses the merit of novelty and wit. His comedies are thought highly of by the Italians. The "Mandragola," licentious as it is, was a great favourite. Leo X. caused the actors and scenic decorations to be brought from Florence to Rome, that he might see it represented; and Guicciardini invited the author to come to get it up at Modena, and tells him to bring with him a favourite singer and actress, named La Barbara, to give it more effect: so early in Italian history do we find mention of prime donne, and of the court paid to them.

But all this diligent authorship did not satisfy the active mind of Machiavelli: he tried to school himself to content, and says, in one of his letters to Vettori, "I am arrived at not desiring any thing again with passion." But this was a deceit which he practised on himself. "If I saw you," he writes again to his friend, "I should fill your head with castles in the air; because fortune has so arranged, that, not being able to discourse concerning the silk trade, nor the woollen trade, nor of gains nor losses, I must talk of the art of government."—"While I read and re-read your disquisitions on politics, I forget my adversity, and appear to have entered again on those public affairs, in prosecuting which I vainly endured so much fatigue, and spent so much time."

The endeavours of Vettori, who was attached to the Medici, to gain favour for his friend with Leo X., were long ineffectual; and Machiavelli showed symptoms of despair. 1514.
Ætat.
45. "It seems," he writes, "that I am to continue in my hole, without finding a man who will remember my services, or believe that I can be good for any thing. It is impossible that I can remain long thus. I pine away; and see that, if God will not be more favourable to me, I shall be obliged to leave my home, and become secretary to some petty officer, if I can do nothing else; or exile myself into some desert to teach children to read. I shall feign that I am dead; and my family will get on much better without me; as I am the cause of expense—being accustomed to spend, and unable to do otherwise. I do not write this to induce you to take trouble for my sake; but to ease my mind, so as not to recur again to so odious a subject."

Yet all his letters are not complaining. The spirit of "Belfegor" and "La Mandragola" animates many of them. "We are now grave," he writes, "and now frivolous; but we ought not to be blamed for this variety, as in it we imitate nature, which is full of change."

1519.
Ætat.
50.

The first use to which the Medici put him, was when Leo X. had placed the cardinal Julius over Florence, and washed to remodel the government. He addressed himself to Machiavelli for his advice; and the latter wrote, in reply, his "Essay on the Reform of the Government of Florence, Written at the request of Leo X." Soon after Leo died, and the cardinal Julius expected to have been elected pope. He was disappointed, and returned to Florence to confirm his authority. The death of Leo awakened the hopes of the opposite party; and a conspiracy was at this juncture entered into by the nephew of the gonfaloniere Soderini and the young philosophers of the Rucellai, to expel the Medici. It was discovered; two ringleaders were put to death, and the rest fled.