From this point of view of a statesmanship quite freed of moral restraints, Machiavelli moves to meet what seems to him the basic problem of his time: to achieve for Italy the unity and strength indispensable to her collective liberty. He views with indignation the division, disorder, corruption, and weakness of his country; and here we find what in Petrarch’s day was so rare—a man who loved his city not the less because he loved his country more. Who was responsible for keeping Italy so divided, and therefore so helpless against the foreigner?
A nation can never be united and happy except when it obeys only one government, whether a republic or a monarchy, as is the case in France and Spain; and the one cause why Italy is not in the same condition is the Church. For having acquired, and holding, a temporal dominion, yet she has never had sufficient power or courage to enable her to seize the rest of the country and make herself sole sovereign of all Italy.*103
We have a new idea here: Machiavelli condemns the Church not for protecting her temporal power, but for not having used all her resources to bring Italy under her political rule. So Machiavelli admired Caesar Borgia at Imola and Senigallia, because he thought he saw in that ruthless youth the conception and promise of a united Italy; and he was prepared to justify any means that the Borgias might use to accomplish this heroic consummation. When he turned against Caesar at Rome in 1503 it may have been through rage that his idol had allowed a cup of poison (as Machiavelli thought) to destroy the dream.
From two centuries of disunity Italy had fallen into such physical weakness and social decay that now (Machiavelli argued) only violent means could save her. Governments and people alike were corrupt. Sexual vice had come to replace military ardor and skill. As in the dying days of ancient Rome, the citizens had delegated to others—there to barbarians, here to mercenaries—the defense of their cities and their lands; but what did these mercenary bands, or their condottieri, care for the unity of Italy? They lived and thrived by its division. They had by mutual agreement made war a game almost as safe as politics; their soldiers had inconvenient objections to being killed; and when they met foreign armies they took to their heels and “brought Italy to slavery and contempt.”105
Who, then, would make Italy one? How could it be done? Not by democratic suasion; men and cities were too individualistic, too partisan, and too corrupt, to accept union peaceably; it would have to be imposed upon them by all the methods of statecraft and war. Only a ruthless dictator could do it; one who would not let conscience make a coward of him, but would strike with an iron hand, letting his great aim justify all means.
We are not sure that The Prince was written in this mood. In the very year 1513 in which it was apparently begun, Machiavelli wrote to a friend that “the idea of Italian union is laughable. Even if the heads of the states could agree, we have no soldiers but the Spaniards that are worth a farthing. Moreover, the people would never agree with the leaders.”106 But in that same 1513 Leo X, young and rich and clever, had reached the papacy; Florence and Rome, so long enemies, were united under the Medici. When Machiavelli transferred the dedication of the book to Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, that state too had fallen to the Medici. The new Duke was only twenty-four in 1516; he had shown ambition and courage; Machiavelli might forgivably look to this reckless spirit as one who, under the guidance and diplomacy of Leo (and the instruction of Machiavelli) could accomplish what Caesar Borgia, under Alexander VI, had begun—could lead the Italian states, at least north of Naples and omitting proud Venice, into a federation strong enough to discourage foreign invasion. There is evidence that this was also Leo’s hope. The dedication of The Prince to the Medici, though probably aiming first of all to win employment for the author, could sincerely think of that family as the possible creators of Italian unity.
The form of Il principe was traditionaclass="underline" it followed the outline and method of a hundred medieval treatises De regimine principum. But in content what a revolution! No idealistic charge here to a prince to be a saint, no appeal to him to apply the Sermon on the Mount to the problems of a throne. On the contrary:
It being my intention to write something that shall be useful to him who comprehends it, it appears to me more appropriate to follow up the real truth of a matter than the imagination of it. Many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never been known or seen, for how one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation; a man who wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with destruction amidst so much that is evil. Hence it is necessary for a prince who wishes to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity.107
The prince, therefore, must distinguish resolutely between morality and statesmanship, between his private conscience and the public good, and must be ready to do for the state what would be called wickedness in the relations of individuals. He must scorn half measures; enemies who cannot be won over must be crushed; contenders for his throne must be killed. He must have a strong army, for a statesman can speak no louder than his guns. He must keep his army in constant health, discipline, and equipment; and he must train himself for war by undertaking frequently the hardships and dangers of the hunt. At the same time he must study the arts of diplomacy, for sometimes cunning and deceit achieve more than force, and less expensively. Treaties are not to be honored when they have become a detriment to the nation; “a wise lord cannot, nor ought he, keep faith when such observance can be turned against him, and when the reasons that caused him to pledge it no longer exist.”108
Some degree of public support is indispensable. But if a ruler must choose between being feared without love or being loved without fear, he must sacrifice the love.109 On the other hand (say the Discorsi)“a multitude is more easily governed by humanity and gentleness than by haughtiness and cruelty….110 Titus, Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus, and Marcus Aurelius did not require the pretorian guard nor the legions to defend them, because they were protected by their own good conduct, the good will of the people, and the love of the Senate.”111 To secure popular support the prince should patronize art and learning, provide public spectacles and games, and honor the guilds, always, however, maintaining the majesty of his rank.112 He should not give the people liberty, but should comfort them as far as possible with the appearances of liberty. Subject cities, like Pisa and Arezzo in the case of Florence, must be dealt with vigorously, even cruelly, at the outset; then, when obedience has been established, their submission may be made habitual by gentler means. Indiscriminate and prolonged cruelty is suicidal.113
The ruler should support religion, and should himself appear to be religious, whatever his private beliefs.114 Indeed, it is more important and profitable to the prince to seem to be virtuous than to be so.