Machiavelli prefaces his discussion by taking up the question whether it is wise to “praise the olden time,” finding fault with the present by comparison, and he insists that anyone born in Italy can have no other view: (Article length: 5000 words)
I know not . . . whether I deserve
to be classed with those who deceive themselves, if in these Discourses I shall
laud too much the times of ancient Rome and censure those of our own day. And
truly, if the virtues that ruled then and the vices that prevail now were not
as clear as the sun, I should be more reticent in my expressions, lest I should
fall into the very error for which I reproach others. But the matter being so
manifest that everybody sees it, I shall boldly and openly say what I think of
the former times and of the present, so as to excite in the minds of the young
men who may read my writings the desire to avoid the evils of the latter, and
to prepare themselves to imitate the virtues of the former, whenever fortune
presents them the occasion. For it is the duty of an honest man to teach others
that good which the malignity of the times and of fortune has prevented his
doing himself; so that amongst the many capable ones whom he has instructed,
some one perhaps, more favored by Heaven, may perform it.
Despite the manifest
difference between the Italy of his day, the early 1500s, and the great epoch
of Roman expansion that had occurred nearly two thousand years previously,
Machiavelli finds the good and evil in the world is remarkably the same, but
that virtú (a word sometimes
translated as “virtue” but which for Machiavelli meant strength or manliness)
was passed among the nations in a process corresponding with the rise and fall
of military empires:
Reflecting now upon the course of
human affairs, I think that, as a whole, the world remains very much in the
same condition, and the good in it always balances the evil; but the good and
the evil change from one country to another, as we learn from the history of
those ancient kingdoms that differed from each other in manners, whilst the
world at large remained the same. The only difference being, that all the
virtues that first found a place in Assyria were thence transferred to Media,
and afterwards passed to Persia, and from there they came into Italy and to
Rome. And if after the fall of the Roman Empire none other sprung up that
endured for any length of time, and where the aggregate virtues of the world
were kept together, we nevertheless see them scattered amongst many nations,
as, for instance, in the kingdom of France, the Turkish empire, or that of the
Sultan of Egypt, and nowadays the people of Germany, and before them those
famous Saracens, who achieved such great things and conquered so great a part
of the world, after having destroyed the Roman Empire of the East. The
different peoples of these several countries, then, after the fall of the Roman
Empire, have possessed and possess still in great part that virtue which is so
much lamented and so sincerely praised. And those who live in those countries
and praise the past more than the present may deceive themselves; but whoever
is born in Italy and Greece, and has not become either an Ultramontane in Italy
or a Turk in Greece, has good reason to find fault with his own and to praise
the olden times; for in their past there are many things worthy of the highest
admiration, whilst the present has nothing that compensates for all the extreme
misery, infamy, and degradation of a period where there is neither observance
of religion, law, or military discipline, and which is stained by every species
of the lowest brutality; and these vices are the more detestable as they exist
amongst those who sit in the tribunals as judges, and hold all power in their
hands, and claim to be adored.
In describing the
Roman ascent, Machiavelli stresses the fact that Rome never fought two wars simultaneously.
They “did not engage in war with the
Latins until they had beaten the Samnites so completely that the Romans
themselves had to protect them with their arms; nor did they combat the Tuscans
until after they had subjugated the Latins, and had by repeated defeats
completely enervated the Samnites. Doubtless if these two powerful nations had
united against Rome whilst their strength was yet unbroken, it may readily be
supposed that they could have destroyed the Roman republic.” But such was not
the case. He provides a brief sketch of
the succession of wars that successively subdued its enemies in Italy and
abroad and notes that “when these had been
victoriously terminated, there remained in the whole world neither prince nor
republic that could, alone or unitedly, have resisted the Roman power.” The
reason for its success was not good fortune but extremely clever and deceptive technique:
[I]f we examine into the cause of
that good fortune we shall readily find it; for it is most certain that when a
prince or a people attain that degree of reputation that all the neighboring
princes and peoples fear to attack him, none of them will ever venture to do it
except under the force of necessity; so that it will be, as it were, at the
option of that potent prince or people to make war upon such neighboring powers
as may seem advantageous, whilst adroitly keeping the others quiet. And this he
can easily do, partly by the respect they have for his power, and partly
because they are deceived by the means employed to keep them quiet. And other
powers that are more distant and have no immediate intercourse with him, will
look upon this as a matter too remote for them to be concerned about, and will
continue in this error until the conflagration spreads to their door, when they
will have no means for extinguishing it except their own forces, which will no
longer suffice when the fire has once gained the upper hand. I will say nothing
of how the Samnites remained indifferent spectators when they saw the Volscians
and Equeans defeated by the Romans; and not to be too prolix I will at once
come to the Carthaginians, who had already acquired great power and reputation
when the Romans were fighting with the Samnites and the Tuscans; for they were
masters of all Africa, they held Sardinia and Sicily, and had already a
foothold in Spain. Their own power, and the fact that they were remote from the
confines of Rome, made them indifferent about attacking the Romans, or
succoring the Samnites and Tuscans, but they did what men are apt to do with
regard to a growing power, they rather sought by an alliance with the Romans to
secure their friendship. Nor did they become aware of the error they had
committed until after the Romans, having subjugated all the nations situated
between them and the Carthaginians, began to contest the dominion of Sicily and
Spain with them. The same thing happened to the Gauls as to the Carthaginians,
and also to King Philip of Macedon and to Antiochus. Each one of these believed
that, whilst the Romans were occupied with the other, they would be overcome,
and that then it would be time enough either by peace or war to secure themselves
against the Romans. So that I believe that the good fortune which followed the
Romans in these parts would have equally attended other princes who had acted
as the Romans did, and had displayed the same courage and sagacity.
Despite Machiavelli’s
praise of Roman “courage and sagacity,” he emphasized the lost liberty of the
peoples they conquered, and seemed genuinely to mourn over it:
Nothing required so much effort on
the part of the Romans to subdue the nations around them, as well as those of
more distant countries, as the love of liberty which these people cherished in
those days; and which they defended with so much obstinacy, that nothing but
the exceeding valor of the Romans could ever have subjugated them. For we know
from many instances to what danger they exposed themselves to preserve or recover
their liberty, and what vengeance they practised upon those who had deprived
them of it. The lessons of history teach us also, on the other hand, the
injuries people suffer from servitude.
Machiavelli’s
republican sympathies burn brightly as he contemplates whence arose the love of
liberty among the independent nations, such as the Tuscans, the Romans, and the
Samnites, who inhabited Italy before Roman expansion overwhelmed its rivals.
And it is easy to understand whence
that affection for liberty arose in the people, for they had seen that cities
never increased in dominion or wealth unless they were free. And certainly it
is wonderful to think of the greatness which Athens attained within the space
of a hundred years after having freed herself from the tyranny of Pisistratus;
and still more wonderful is it to reflect upon the greatness which Rome
achieved after she was rid of her kings. The cause of this is manifest, for it
is not individual prosperity, but the general good, that makes cities great;
and certainly the general good is regarded nowhere but in republics.
Reflecting on the
causes of the great transformation such that “in ancient times the people were
more devoted to liberty than in the present,” Machiavelli attributes this to a
Christian religion that made men feeble and adds that another important reason
was the Roman conquest itself, which kicked the life out of the subdued.
I believe that [the change in the
affection for liberty between ancient and modern times] resulted from this,
that men were stronger in those days, which I believe to be attributable to the
difference of education, founded upon the difference of their religion and
ours. For, as our religion teaches us the truth and the true way of life, it
causes us to attach less value to the honors and possessions of this world;
whilst the Pagans, esteeming those things as the highest good, were more
energetic and ferocious in their actions. We may observe this also in most of
their institutions, beginning with the magnificence of their sacrifices as
compared with the humility of ours, which are gentle solemnities rather than
magnificent ones, and have nothing of energy or ferocity in them, whilst in
theirs there was no lack of pomp and show, to which was superadded the
ferocious and bloody nature of the sacrifice by the slaughter of many animals,
and the familiarity with this terrible sight assimilated the nature of men to
their sacrificial ceremonies. Besides this, the Pagan religion deified only men
who had achieved great glory, such as commanders of armies and chiefs of
republics, whilst ours glorifies more the humble and contemplative men than the
men of action. Our religion, moreover, places the supreme happiness in
humility, lowliness, and a contempt for worldly objects, whilst the other, on
the contrary, places the supreme good in grandeur of soul, strength of body,
and all such other qualities as render men formidable; and if our religion
claims of us fortitude of soul, it is more to enable us to suffer than to
achieve great deeds.
These principles seem to me to have
made men feeble, and caused them to become an easy prey to evil-minded men, who
can control them more securely, seeing that the great body of men, for the sake
of gaining Paradise, are more disposed to endure injuries than to avenge them.
And although it would seem that the world has become effeminate and Heaven
disarmed, yet this arises unquestionably from the baseness of men, who have
interpreted our religion according to the promptings of indolence rather than
those of virtue. For if we were to reflect that our religion permits us to
exalt and defend our country, we should see that according to it we ought also
to love and honor our country, and prepare ourselves so as to be capable of
defending her. It is this education, then, and this false interpretation of our
religion, that is the cause of there not being so many republics nowadays as
there were anciently; and that there is no longer the same love of liberty
amongst the people now as there was then. I believe, however, that another
reason for this will be found in the fact that the Roman Empire, by force of
arms, destroyed all the republics and free cities; and although that empire was
afterwards itself dissolved, yet these cities could not reunite themselves nor
reorganize their civil institutions, except in a very few instances.
Machiavelli considers
the case of the Samnites, in antiquity a well governed and formidable rival to
Rome, whose country was “thickly inhabited” and full of cities, but had in
Machiavelli’s day become a virtual desert. The cause for this differing result
arose from one overriding fact: “that formerly that people enjoyed freedom, and
now they live in servitude, for . . . only those cities and countries that are
free can achieve greatness.” Another lesson follows on the superiority of free
government:
Population is greater there because
marriages are more free and offer more advantages to the citizen; for people
will gladly have children when they know that they can support them, and that
they will not be deprived of their patrimony, and where they know that their
children not only are born free and not slaves, but, if they possess talents
and virtue, can arrive at the highest dignities of the state. In free countries
we also see wealth increase more rapidly, both that which results from the
culture of the soil and that which is produced by industry and art; for
everybody gladly multiplies those things, and seeks to acquire those goods the
possession of which he can tranquilly enjoy. Thence men vie with each other to
increase both private and public wealth, which consequently increase in an
extraordinary manner.
But the contrary of all this takes
place in countries that are subject to another; and the more rigorous the
subjection of the people, the more will they be deprived of all the good to
which they had previously been accustomed. And the hardest of all servitudes is
to be subject to a republic, and this for these reasons: first, because it is
more enduring, and there is no hope of escaping from it; and secondly, because
republics aim to enervate and weaken all other states so as to increase their
own power. This is not the case with a prince who holds another country in
subjection, unless indeed he should be a barbarous devastator of countries and
a destroyer of all human civilization, such as the princes of the Orient. But
if he be possessed of only ordinary humanity, he will treat all cities that are
subject to him equally well, and will leave them in the enjoyment of their arts
and industries, and measurably all their ancient institutions. So that if they
cannot grow the same as if they were free, they will at least not be ruined
whilst in bondage.
Two centuries after
Machiavelli, Montesquieu wrote that the “spirit of monarchy is war and
expansion; the spirit of republics is peace and moderation.” Machiavelli, by
contrast, identifies war and expansion with republicanism, whether ancient or
modern, and he seems to think that a prince, unless he was a monster, would
treat a population he subjected much better than a republic, whose rule was to
weaken its neighbors while increasing its own power. But there was a crucial
difference among the ancient republics in how they sought the increase of their
power that made all the difference. Whereas Athens and Sparta were hostile to
strangers and refused to admit them to citizenship, Rome both broke its enemies
and welcomed them. It tried by all possible means to increase its population,
both by “making it easy and secure for strangers to come and establish
themselves there” and, after destroying the neighboring cities, compelling “their
inhabitants to come and dwell” among them.
These principles were so strictly
observed by the Romans, that, in the time of the sixth king, Rome had already
eighty thousand inhabitants capable of bearing arms. The Romans acted like a
good husbandman, who for the purpose of strengthening a tree and making it
produce more fruit and to mature it better, cuts off the first shoots it puts
out, so that by retaining the sap and vigor in the trunk the tree may
afterwards put forth more abundant branches and fruit. . . . Rome, from having
by the above two methods increased its population, was enabled to put two
hundred thousand men into the field, whilst Sparta and Athens could not raise
more than twenty thousand each.
This difference in
policy is one of Machiavelli’s most trenchant examples showing the effect of different
policies, as opposed to better material circumstances or good fortune, in
explaining Rome’s success. Lycurgus, the founder of the Spartan republic, “did
everything possible to prevent strangers from coming into the city," prohibiting
foreigners from becoming citizens through marriage and “all other intercourse
and commerce that bring men together.” Nothing could compensate for the
relative weakness that this comparative lack of population imposed on Sparta:
Now, as all the actions of men
resemble those of nature, it is neither natural nor possible that a slender
trunk should support great branches; and thus a small republic cannot conquer
and hold cities and kingdoms that are larger and more powerful than herself,
and if she does conquer them, she will experience the same fate as a tree whose
branches are larger than the trunk, which will not be able to support them, and
will be bent by every little breeze that blows.
Such was the case with Sparta when
she had conquered all the cities of Greece; but no sooner did Thebes revolt,
than all the other cities revolted likewise, and the trunk was quickly left
without any branches. This could not have happened to Rome, whose trunk was so
strong that it could easily support all its branches. The above modes of
proceeding, then, together with others of which we shall speak hereafter, made
Rome great and most powerful, which Titus Livius points out in these few words:
“Rome grew, whilst Alba was ruined.”
* * *
In chapter 4 of the
second book of the Discourses,
Machiavelli examined “the three methods of aggrandizement” employed by
republics. One, observed by the ancient Tuscans and Greeks and by the modern
Swiss, was “to form a confederation of several republics, neither of which had
any eminence over the other in rank or authority.” The second method, employed
by the Romans, “was to make associates of other states; reserving to
themselves, however, the rights of sovereignty, the seat of empire, and the
glory of their enterprises.” The third method, followed by the Spartans and the
Athenians (and his own city of Florence), “was to make the conquered people
immediately subjects, and not associates.” Machiavelli’s discussion of the best
mode of aggrandizement—he hates the third, greatly admires the second, and has
a grudging admiration for the first—is of key importance in understanding his
approach to foreign policy.
Of these three methods [the third]
is perfectly useless, as was proved by these two republics [Athens and Sparta],
who perished from no other cause than from having made conquests which they
could not maintain. For to undertake the government of conquered cities by
violence, especially when they have been accustomed to the enjoyment of
liberty, is a most difficult and troublesome task; and unless you are
powerfully armed, you will never secure their obedience nor be able to govern
them. And to enable you to be thus powerful it becomes necessary to have
associates, by whose aid you can increase the population of your own city; and
as neither Sparta nor Athens did either of these things, their conquests proved
perfectly useless.
The condemnation given
to Athens and Sparta for attempting to rule by violence is not based on moral
grounds. Machiavelli sees it proceeding more from stupidity than evil intent.
In the words of Talleyrand, the French foreign minister under Napoleon: “it is
worse than a crime; it is an error.” This is made apparent in Machiavelli’s
subsequent praise of Rome:
Rome followed the second plan, and
did both things [making associates and increasing population], and consequently
rose to such exceeding power; and as she was the only state that persistently
adhered to this system, so she was also the only one that attained such great
power. Having created for herself many associates throughout Italy, she granted
to them in many respects an almost entire equality, always, however, reserving
to herself the seat of empire and the right of command; so that these
associates (without being themselves aware of it) devoted their own efforts and
blood to their own subjugation. For so soon as the Romans began to lead their
armies beyond the limits of Italy, they reduced other kingdoms to provinces,
and made subjects of those who, having been accustomed to live under kings,
were indifferent to becoming subjects of another; and from having Roman
governors, and having been conquered by Roman arms, they recognized no superior
to the Romans. Thus the associates of Rome in Italy found themselves all at
once surrounded by Roman subjects, and at the same time pressed by a powerful
city like Rome; and when they became aware of the trap into which they had been
led, it was too late to remedy the evil, for Rome had become too powerful by
the acquisition of foreign provinces, as also within herself by the increased
population which she had armed. And although these associates conspired
together to revenge the wrongs inflicted upon them by Rome, yet they were
quickly subdued, and their condition made even worse; for from associates they
were degraded to subjects. This mode of proceeding (as has been said) was
practised only by the Romans; and a republic desirous of aggrandizement should
adopt no other plan, for experience has proved that there is none better or
more sure.
The trap into which
Rome led its associates would seem not to be easily replicable. After all, the
promise of nearly equal association was a false one, and meant, in the end,
that Rome’s allies were “degraded to subjects.” Would not others given such
assurances by a rising power, having absorbed Machiavelli’s history lesson,
learn to distrust them? For what seems to distinguish the Roman from the
Spartan and Athenian methods, apart from the crucial difference in population
base, is that the latter openly proclaimed their ambition of ruling by
violence, whereas the Romans hid their objective of subjugation and indeed
covered it in the language of association and equality. Despite this evident
duplicity, Machiavelli is in no doubt that the Roman method is the best; “next
best” is the method of forming confederations:
[For if that method of
confederation] does not admit of extensive conquests, it has at least two other
advantages: the one, not to become easily involved in war, and the other, that
whatever conquests are made are easily preserved. The reason why a
confederation of republics cannot well make extensive conquests is, that they
are not a compact body, and do not have a central seat of power, which
embarrasses consultation and concentrated action. It also makes them less
desirous of dominion, for, being composed of numerous communities that are to
share in this dominion, they do not value conquests as much as a single
republic that expects to enjoy the exclusive benefit of them herself.
Furthermore, they are governed by a council, which naturally causes their
resolutions to be more tardy than those that emanate from a single centre.
This is a perceptive
discussion of what might be termed the modalities of multilateralism,
suggesting why multilateral alliances have difficulty reaching consensus and
are hobbled from energetic action by the difficulty of getting the parties to
an agreement on cost and benefits. He goes on to argue that 12 to 14 is the
maximum number of such confederate states, an argument with keen implications
in the early days of the American union, with its thirteen united states, and
not without relevance today in considering the dynamics of multilateral
organizations.
Experience has also shown that this
system of confederation has certain limits, which they have in no instance
transgressed; being composed of twelve or fourteen states at most, they cannot
well extend beyond that number, as their mutual defence would become difficult,
and therefore they seek no further extension of their dominion, — either because
necessity does not push them to it, or because they see no advantage in further
conquests, for the reason given above. For in such case they would have to do
one of two things: either to continue adding other states to their
confederation, which would then become so numerous as to create confusion, or
they would have to make the conquered people subjects. And as they see the
difficulties of this, and the little advantage that would result from it, they
attach no value to an extension of their dominion.
Machiavelli now
summarizes his discussion, remarking again—in words implicitly condemnatory of
Florence’s own policy--“that to make conquered people subjects has ever been a
source of weakness and of little profit, and that when carried too far it has
quickly proved ruinous to the conqueror. And if this system of making subjects
is disadvantageous to warlike republics, how much more pernicious must it be
for such as have no armies, as is the case with the Italian republics of our
day?” With that method ruled out, there remains “the excellence of the plan
adopted by the Romans, which is the more to be admired as they had no previous
example to guide them, and which has not been followed by any other state since
Rome.” Machiavelli wants his contemporaries to take seriously the admonition to
imitate the Romans and is appalled that this rich experience has not “even been
taken into account by anyone,” with the result that “Italy has become the prey
of whoever has chosen to attack her.” But he also seems to ascribe the neglect
of ancient precedents not simply to ignorance but also to the belief that such
precedents were inapplicable to contemporary Italian affairs and therefore
useless. On the face of it, Machiavelli does not accept this conclusion; he
will only allow that if imitating the Romans seems too difficult, it should not
be too difficult to imitate the confederate method of the Tuscans, “especially
the Tuscans of the present day.”
For if [the ancient Tuscans] failed
to acquire that power in Italy which the Roman method of proceeding would have
given them, they at least lived for a long time in security, with much glory of
dominion and of arms, and high praise for their manners and religion. This
power and glory of the ancient Tuscans was first checked by the Gauls, and
afterwards crushed by the Romans; and was so completely annihilated, that,
although two thousand years ago the power of the Tuscans was very great, yet
now there is scarcely any memento or vestige of it.
* * *
Perhaps the most
interesting feature of Machiavelli’s discussion is that one might from his
premises reject his conclusion. Taking the horrific costs of the Roman conquest
for subjugated peoples into full view, which Machiavelli seems perfectly
willing to do; digesting the sheer unlikelihood of making commercial Florence,
with its unarmed populace and dependence on mercenaries, the leader of a
project to revive Roman glory; and accepting, too, that any prince who had the benefit
of reading Machiavelli’s Roman history would see at once that the assurances of
a rising power that modeled itself on Rome could not be believed, and that such
a prince was thus more likely to ally with the weak than to succor the strong;
it would seem to follow that the method of confederation offered a more
eligible means to Italian security and freedom than the Roman method. That
Machiavelli would not draw this conclusion is not easily understandable. It suggests that his thought remained wedded
to ideals of glory and conquest, in preference to free association. That made him a poor guide—in profession, at least,
if not in practice—in resolving Italy’s
predicament. ("If not in practice" because, as Maurizio Viroli shows in his effusive and revealing biography of Machiavelli, Niccolo's Smile, Machiavelli did recognize the disease of excessive self-regard that made the Italian states incapable of effectual opposition to foreign invasion and occupation.)
We ought not to leave
this discussion of Machiavelli without noting the parallel it suggests with a
contemporary international order defined in terms of American hegemony. The “liberal
Leviathan” that now presides—very shakily, it is true—over the international
system lies somewhere between the ideal types of “confederation” and “empire.” It
is usually described as a hegemony (or leadership in a coalition of allies). It
partakes, however, of both confederal and imperial tendencies and is conscious
that neither ideal type by itself can offer a solution to the problem of international
order. Machiavelli’s ambivalence on the question—confederation or empire?—is suggestive
of America’s own.
* * *
I have used the
edition of the Discourses available
at Liberty Fund’s Online Library of Liberty. See also Max Lerner,
ed., The Prince and the Discourses
(New York: Modern Library, 1950). a cheap and handy edition. Both the online
edition and the Lerner edition use the Christian E. Detmold translation, published as The Historical, Political, and Diplomatic Writings of Niccolo Machiavelli (Boston, 1882), 4 volumes. Portrait of Machiavelli by Santi di Tito from Wikipedia..jpg)
