MACHIAVELLI, Nicoo, for many years secretary of the republic of Florence, and justly celebrated for his political, historical, and other writings, was born at Florence on the 3d of May 1469, being descended from a family which traced its origin up to the ancient marquises of Tuscany, particularly to the Marquis Hugo, who lived about the middle of the ninth century. The Machiavellis were signors or lords of Monte-Spertoli; but preferring the right of citizenship in Florence to the useless conservation of privileges which were daily becoming more and more obnoxious to the rising commonwealth, they prudently submitted to its laws in order to accept employment in the highest offices of the magistracy. This family was one of those attached to the Guelfic party which abandoned Florence in the year 1260, after the defeat at Monte-Aperti. But their secession was merely temporary. Having returned to their native country, they regained their influence, and occupied some of the first offices of the state; no less than thirteen of their number having held the situation of gonfaloniere of justice, and fifty-three that of prior, dignities which were then considered as the most important in the republic. The father of Machiavelli was a jurisconsult, and lived in a state but little removed from poverty. His mother, who appears to have been a woman of talent, loved poetry, and composed verses with facility. It is believed that, about the year 1494, he was placed under the-tuition of the learned Marcello di Virgilio, professor of Greek and Latin literature, and the translator of Dioscorides. How long he remained under the care of this master, or what advantages he derived from his instructions, has not been ascertained. But, five years later, when he had scarcely completed his twenty-ninth year, he was preferred, amongst four competitors, to the employment of chancellor of the second chancery of the Signory; a few months afterwards, he was appointed, by the Signory and the colleges, secretary to the ten magistrates of liberty and peace, which constituted the general government of the republic; and with this employment he continued invested for about fourteen years and a half. His ordinary occupations, when he resided at Florence, comprehended the political correspondence, both internal and external, the recording of the deliberations of the council of magistrates, and the redaction of treaties with foreign states.

But the Florentine government, justly appreciating the talents of Machiavelli, were not long in extending his functions; and he was in consequence successively intrusted with no less than twenty-three foreign legations, besides frequent commissions to the cities dependent on the republic. The first mission on which he was despatched was to France, where he arrived in 1500, soon after the raising of the siege of Pisa. Louis XII. had furnished to the Florentines troops and artillery to form the siege of that place; and the republic had sent to the camp two commissioners, besides its secretary Machiavelli, who carried on the correspondence. The Pisans, however, negociated with the king, and at the same time gained over the principal officers in the besieging army. The French troops were to be paid by the Florentines, but some delay having occurred in forwarding their pay, they availed themselves of this as a pretext, and having disbanded, the siege was in consequence raised. The French king reproached the Florentines for the disgrace which had thus been brought on his arms; and it was to appease him, and if possible to obtain fresh succours, that they sent to France Machiavelli, and Francisco della Casa, who had been one of the commissioners in the camp before Pisa. During this negociation, which lasted five months, the deputies followed the court to Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier, Montargis, Melun, Blois, Nantes, and Tours. They had several audiences of the king, and his minister Cardinal d’Amboise; but these led to no satisfactory result. The envoys were continually met with the same reproaches, and the court was only appeased by the reimbursement of the sums which the king had advanced to the troops.^[1. Ginguené, Histoire Littéraire d’Italie, tom. viii. ]

In the year 1502 Machiavelli was sent to the Duke di Valentino (Cesare Borgia) at Imola, and next to Rome. He also went a second time to France, and afterwards to Siena, to Piombino, and to Perugia. In 1507 he proceeded by Geneva to Constance, and from thence to Bolzano, at that time the residence of the Emperor Maximilian, with whom he treated of important affairs. The relation of this mission is printed amongst his complete works, under the title of Rap-porto di cose della Magna, fatto questo di 17 giugno 1508. In 1510 he re-appeared in France, and, after passing about two months at Blois, witnessed the opening of the national council at Tours. A fourth mission to the court of Louis XII. is commonly referred to the following year, 1511; but it appears uncertain whether it was actually undertaken. It may with truth be said, however, that if Machiavelli failed to secure the complete independence of his country, this proceeded from no îàult of his own; inasmuch as the accomplishment of such an object would have required more confidence on the part of his fellow-citizens, greater harmony between the different opinions which then divided the city, and times less turbulent and unpropitious. But the glory cannot be denied him of· having attempted this noble enterprise, and devoted to its accomplishment all his genius, and all the influence which he was permitted to exercise in the conduct of public affairs.

This is fully established by his political correspondence, which, besides, is in the highest degree valuable and interesting. His despatches, indeed, form one of the most amusing and instructive collections extant. In them we meet with none of that mystical and verbose jargon which is so common in modern state-papers. The narratives are clearly and agreeably written, and the remarks on men and things are equally shrewd and judicious. We are introduced into the presence of men who, during twenty years, swayed the destinies of Europe. Their wit and their folly, their gloom and their gaiety, are alike exposed to us; we are admitted to overhear their familiar talk, to see the masters of the world in undress, and to observe the manifestations of their real characters. It is interesting and curious to recognise, in circumstances which commonly elude the notice of historians, the feeble violence and the shallow cunning of Louis XII.; the bustling insignificance of Maximilian, a prince afflicted with an impotent desire of renown, rash yet timid, obstinate yet fickle, always in a hurry, yet always too late; the fierce and haughty energy which gave dignity to the eccentricities of the magnificent Julius; and the soft, smooth, calm, graceful manners which masked the insatiable ambition and deadly hatred of Cesare Borgia. The meeting of the Florentine secretary and the Duke di Valentino, of the greatest speculative and the ablest practical statesman of the age, is a memorable occurrence in the history of both. Upon two important occasions Machiavelli was admitted to the society of Borgia; once, at the moment when his splendid villany had achieved its most signal triumph, when he caught in one snare, and crushed at one blow, all his most formidable rivals;^[2. See in Opere di Machiavelli (vol. ii. Hague, 1726), Dcscri,ttione del modo tenuto dal Duca Valentino neīlo amazzare Vitellozzo∙Vitelli, Olìverotto da Fermo, il Signor Pagolo, et il Duca di Gravina Orsini. ] and again when, exhausted by disease, and overwhelmed by misfortunes, he [7:13:645]was the prisoner of the deadliest enemy of his house. These interviews are fully described in the correspondence. Several writers have supposed that there existed a close and intimate connexion between these remarkable men, and the secretary-envoy has even been accused of prompting the crimes of this artful and merciless tyrant; but, from the official documents, it is evident that their intercourse, though ostensibly of an amicable, was in reality of a hostile description. “It cannot be doubted, however,” says an able writer, “that the imagination of Machiavelli was strongly impressed, and his speculations on government coloured, by the observations which he made on the singular character, and equally singular fortunes, of a man who, under such disadvantages, had achieved such exploits; who, when sensuality, varied through innumerable forms, could no longer stimulate his sated mind, found a more powerful and durable excitement in the intense thirst of empire and revenge; who emerged from the sloth and luxury of the Roman purple the first prince and general of the age; who, after acquiring sovereignty by destroying his enemies, acquired popularity by destroying his tools; who had begun to employ for the most salutary ends the power which he had attained by the most atrocious means; who tolerated within the sphere of his iron despotism no plunderer or oppressor but himself; and who fell at last, amidst the mingled curses and regrets of a people, of whom his genius had been the wonder, and might have been the salvation.”^[3. Edinburgh Review, vol. xlv. pp. 283, 284. ] Some of the crimes of Borgia, which appear to us the most revolting, would not have been viewed with equal horror by an Italian of the fifteenth century; and, besides, patriotic feeling might induce Machiavelli to regard with indulgence and regret the memory of the only leader capable of defending the independence of Italy against the confederate spoilers who were then plotting the dismemberment of that divided and unhappy country.

But whilst Machiavelli deeply regretted the misfortunes of his country, he clearly discerned the cause and the remedy of these. It was the military system of the Italian people which had extinguished their valour and discipline, destroyed their independence, and rendered their wealth an easy prey to every foreign plunderer. Machiavelli projected a scheme for abolishing the practice of employing mercenary troops, and organizing a national militia; and the exertions which he made to accomplish this grand object are alike honourable to his understanding and his patriotism. He studied with assiduity the art of war, and made himself master of all its details^[4. â See his treatise DeW Arte della Guerra, passim. ]? When levies were decreed, he flew from place to place to superintend the execution of his design, and availed himself of every circumstance which could contribute to its success. For a time the scheme promised well, and the new troops acquitted themselves respectably. But the fury of parties continued to increase, and the tide of misfortune came on before the barriers which should have withstood it were prepared. The emperor and the pope wished to re-establish the Medici, and the moment was favourable for such an enterprise. Florence was then governed by the gonfaloniere Soderini, a man equally presumptuous and feeble, who obstinately adhered to France, without discerning that that power was not in a condition to afford him any aid. It was in reference to this inconsiderate policy that Machiavelli observed, “The good fortune of France has made us lose half the state; her bad fortune will cause the loss of our liberty.”^[5. Speaking, on one occasion, of the alliance with France, he observed, che la buona fortuna di essa aveva fatto perder la metà della rtato, la cattiva avrebbe fatto perdere la libertà. ] The prediction was not long in being verified. As soon as the French armies had lost their superiority in Italy, the storm burst upon Florence. In 1512, the pope and the emperor combined against their common enemy, and, contrary to the faith of treaties, imposed a contribution of a hundred thousand florins. Machiavelli flew through· the territory of the republic, to examine the state of the fortresses, and organize a vigorous resistance; but all his efforts were unavailing, and divided Florence soon opened its gates to the Medici, who re-conquered at once their property and their ancient authority.

This revolution, which caused the ruin of the gonfaloniere, proved also the signal for the fall of the secretary. The new Signory immediately attacked him in two decrees, dated the 8th and 10th of November 1514. By the one he was deprived, “absolutely despoiled,” of his offices of chancellor and secretary to the ten magistrates of liberty and peace; by the other he was exiled for a year to a part of the Florentine territory, which he was forbidden to quit under the penalty of incurring the displeasure of the Signory. A third decree, dated the 17th of the same month, prohibited him from entering the palace of the high and magnificent signors. On this subject Ginguené has omitted some facts. “Machiavelli,” says he, “after fourteen years of service useful to his country, was first deprived of his employment, and then confined for a year to the territory of the republic, with a prohibition not to set foot in the palace of the Signory. Nor was this the term, it was in fact only the commencement of his misfortunes.” And he adds in a note, that the fate of the secretary was decided by three decrees of the 8 th, 1 Oth, and 17 th of November. There appears to be some confusion in this statement. The decree of the 17th was evidently a mitigation of that of the 10th. The latter banished him for a year, and intimated to him that he was not to leave the territory of the republic; that is, it ordained him to quit Florence in order to live in the Florentine dominions, exclusive of the city properly so called. The third decree, dated the 17th, only prohibited him from entering the palace of the Signory, without ordaining him to leave the city; but another decree of the same date was published, in which he was perhiitted to enter the palace during the whole of the day of the 17th; and the same liberty was granted him on the 4th of December 1512, and on the 21st of March and 9th of July 1513. Ginguené has refuted some of the statements published respecting the treatment Machiavelli is alleged to have experienced after the return of the Medici; but it is not the less true, as appears by the subsequent modifications of the original decree, to the extent already stated, that the removal of the secretary was considered as an affair of some difficulty, and one the accomplishment of which required management and address. But when this object had been effected, he found himself exposed to the greatest dangers. Accused of being concerned in the conspiracy formed by Capponi and Boscoli against Cardinal de’ Medici, afterwards Leo X., he was thrown into prison, and put to the torture, which he endured with unflinching resolution. “I have been near losing my life,” said he, “which God and my own innocence have saved; I have supported all evils, including imprisonment and others.” On the accession of Leo X. he was included in an amnesty, and owed his deliverance to the generosity of that liberal and accomplished pontiff.

These terrible trials, which extraordinary courage can alone withstand, attest the energy and the force of character which belonged to the fallen statesman. Instead of yielding to despondency, he sought for an alleviation of his lot in study and in literature; and it is to his misfortunes that we are indebted for the best known of his works, the [7:13:646]Prince, the dialogue on the Art of Herr, his Histories, and Comedies, which he composed during his retirement at San∙Casciano, and which, with the collection of his political letters, deserve to be classed amongst the most remarkable monuments of modern literature. From his retreat, however, he wrote to the friends whom he had still preserved, signifying his desire to be again emfjioyed in the conduct of affairs; and his wishes in this respect were to a certain extent gratified. After the death of Lorenzo de’ Medici, Leo X. who possessed great influence in the government of Florence, recalled Machiavelli, and requested him to point out the means of reforming the administration. In 1521, there was confided to him a mission to the minor brothers at Carpi. He was next ordered to fortify anew the city, and to treat of some affairs with Francisco Guicciardini, then governor of Romagna. Finally, he was employed in the army of the league against Charles V. This commission was the last remarkable occupation of his life. He returned to Florence in one of the last days of May 1527, and having, not long afterwards, suffered much inconvenience from pains in the stomach, he took a medicine in which he had great faith for relieving this disorder; but being soon attacked by violent spasms in the bowels, be expired on the 22d of June, at the age of fifty-eight, after having received all the sacraments of the church. The following lett⅛r from his son Pietro to Francisco Nelli, professor at Pisa, annihilates all the fables which have been circulated respecting his death :—“I cannot tell you without tears, that, on the 22d of this month, our father Nicoo died of pains in the bowels, caused by a medicine which he had taken two days before. He was made to confess his sins by the friar Matteo. who kept him company till his death. Our father has left us in great poverty, as you know.” Machiavelli was in his person of the ordinary size, his complexion was of an olive hue, and his physiognomy animated and expressive; in conversation he was at once simple and lively, and his repartee was prompt and piquant. Conversing one day with Clodio Tolooeeo, the latter said to him, “At Florence the men have less science, and are less learned, than at Siena, always excepting yourself to which Machiavelli replied, *∙ At Siena the men are greater fools than at Florence-not even excepting you.” Some one having remarked to him that he had taught princes to be tyrants, he replied. If I have taught princes to be tyrants, I have also taught the people to destroy tyrants.” He was interred in the church of Santa-Croce, in the burying-płace of bis Laoeiìy: but for more than two centuries his bones lay undistinguished, and it was reserved for an English nobternan. Earl Cowper, to pay the last honours to the greatest statesman of Florence, by erecting a monument to his memory.^[6. This monument, which is the wort “rf Sp⅛Lnzi, bears the inscription, Τaniο nomini nullum par elogium, Nicoaus Machiavelli obiit A. P. V. MDXXVII. ]

Several writings of the Ðorendne secretary are regarded as estimable productions of a superior mind; others are considered as pernicious, and contaīnoeg abominable doctrines. Amongst the latter are theape5cgy for the conduct of the Duke di Valentino, when he caused Vitelkrzzo-Vitelli and others to be massacred at Sic .gxgi⅛ (77 mod’o tenuiο dal Ι)uca Valentino, ⅛c.): the treatise of the Prince (77 Principe) ; and some detached opia⅛tt> contained in the Discourses on Titus Livius (ZXâwï» nopra la prijna deca di T. Livid), which opinions, toraung pm of a writing posterior to the composition of the Principe, will, as far as possible, be explained in the more detailed exposition which we shall endeavour to give of the object and intentions of the author when he composed that celebrated treatise.

At the head of the works generally admitted to have established beyond all dispute the reputation of Machiavelli as a profound thinker, and a politician of inexhaustible genius, may be placed those lettersor despatches, published under the title of Legazioni, of which we have already spoken incidentally. Ginguené has observed, in reference to these letters, that one would not willingly read the collection, which he considers somewhat diffuse, but that, in regard to the character and life of the secretary, and the history of his own time, it may be consulted with advantage. In this opinion, however, we cannot by any means concur. The collection is suited to the taste of the age, and the country to which it belongs; nor has this taste materially changed; for even the Italian diplomatists of the present day frequently indulge in similar details, introducing such arguments as they think fitted to support their observations, and to create a favourable impression of their zeal and industry. That the Legazioni sometimes descended into minutiae which may be considered as trifling or irrelevant, we readily admit; but even these particulars are by no means devoid of interest; and as to the entire collection, a reader of intelligence cannot peruse it without being at once amused and instructed by it.

The seven books on the Art of War ÇDeli Arte della Guerra) show that Machiavelli was profoundly conversant with the principles of military science. An Italian writer, adverting to this circumstance, observes, that such knowledge is not only wonderful in a man devoted to civil occupations, but might even be considered as extraordinary in an old general. According to the author of the preface to the edition of 1813, Machiavelli had acquired this insight into military science in consequence of profound meditations on the works of the ancient Romans, who may be regarded as the first masters of the art of war; and, in fact, the combinations of the secretary have constant reference to those of Vegetius. His principal object was to establish the superiority of infantry, at a time when this branch of the service had fallen into general discredit; and his theories fortunately attracted so much regard, that to him may, in a great measure, be attributed the return of sound tactics, and the perfection to which the art of war subsequently attained. Algarotti, in his fourth discourse on the studies of Palladio, gives us to understand that that celebrated architect learned the military art in the writings of the Florentine secretary; Frederick II. has described, in agreeable verses, some of his military precepts; and there is a French work, entitled Instructions sur le fait de la Guerre, extraites des livres de Polybe, Erontin, Vegèce, Machiavelli, et plusieurs autres bons auteurs, Paris, 1563. Of the tactics of Machiavelli it is not necessary to express here any opinion. But the treatise is able and interesting; as a commentary on the history of the times it is invaluable; whilst the ingenuity, grace, and perspicuity of the style, and the eloquence and animation of particular passages, must give pleasure even to readers who take no interest in the subject which the author treats with so much skill and ability.^[7. The treatise on the Art of War λi ia t’ŉe ⅛πn of a dialogue, and the opinions of the writer are put into the mouth of Fabrizio Colonna, a nobleman of the ecclesiasccaJ! stae. and an officer of distinguished merit in the service of the king of Spain. After some preliminary conversation, Fabrizio expresses lit regret that those who in later times affected the manners of the old Romans, should select for imitation their most trwcanŗ τ irsrīts. This leads to a discourse on the decline of military discipline, and the best means of restoring it. The institutam. of ĩhe Florentine militia, to which we have already alluded, is very ably defended; and several improvements are suggested ia the details. The Swiss and the Spaniards were ar tins tune regarded as the best soldiers in Europe. The Swiss battalion consisted of pikemen in deep formation, and bore a close resemblance to the Grecian phalanx. The Spaniards, like the soldiers of Rome, were armed with the sword and the shield. But the victories gained by Flaminius and Aemilius over the Macedonian kings seemed to prove that the weapons used by the legions were superior to those of the phalanx. And the same experiment had been recently tried with the same result at the battle of Ravenna, “one of those tremendous days into which human folly and wickedness compress the whole devastation of a famine or a plague.” In that dreadful conflict, the infantry of Aragon, deserted by their allies, hewed a passage through the thickest of the imperial pikes, and effected an unbroken retreat, in the face of the gensdarmerie of De Foix and the artillery of Este. Machiavelli, struck with these facts, proposes to combine both systems; to arm the foremost lines with the pike, for the purpose of repulsing cavalry, and those in the rear with the sword, as being a handy weapon, adapted to almost every exigency.. He expresses the highest admiration of the military science of the ancient Romans, and the greatest contempt for theŵaxims in vogue amongst the Italian commanders of the preceding generation; he prefers infantry to cavalry, and fortified camps to fortified towns; he recommends the substitution of rapid movements and decisive engagements for the languid and dilatory operations of his countrymen; and he attaches but little importance to the invention of gunpowder, which, he seems to think, ought scarcely to produce any change in the mode of arming or disposing troops. The artillery of those days was ill constructed, ill served, and consequently of little use in the field of battle; this arm was then in a rude, inefficient state, and hence might in a great measure be disregarded in a general system of tactics; but if Machiavelli could have foreseen the improvements which were destined to take place, particularly in point of mobility, he would have been convinced that a change both in the mode of arming and disposing troops would in consequence become necessary, and that the deep formations of ancient times durst no longer be opposed to the ravages of shot, shells, grape, canister, and the other destructive missiles discharged by modern artillery. ]

The Discorsi, written about the year 1516, the epoch of [7:13:647]his disgrace, prove that the principles of the author were uniform and constant, and that his views and observations had always a character of justness, depth, and gravity. The Roman republic, in its constitution and its establishments, contained the germs of its greatness; and the inroads committed upon these were the causes of its decline. Machiavelli followed this fatal progress beyond the history of Livy ∙, he discerned and meditated on it in the Annals and in the History of Tacitus. He there found not only facts, but results; a manner and a style, which he adopted as models. Tacitus became his master in the art of observing, and also, in one sense, in the art of writing; what he had acquired in the study of the former of these two great historians he carried to the school of the latter; and it may be said that he learned from Tacitus to read and explain Livy. After having laid the foundations of his work on the history of Rome, Machiavelli employed himself in following Livy step by step in the perusal of that history; stopping short at every thing which suggested a reflection, or indicated the application of a principle. The text of the historian disappears, or is but rarely cited; actions, institutions, and laws, are alone discussed. The objects of comparison, ancient as well as modern, spring up, so to speak, every instant; luminous results are thence deduced; and an inexhaustible variety of facts continually supports the evidence of the reasonings and the solidity of the maxims. Throughout we discover a mind habituated to profound meditations, and a firmness of soul tried and exercised by the storms of liberty. See, for example, to what he reduces, in his fourth chapter, all the noise made by the quarrels between the senate and the Roman people, which he does not hesitate to regard as the primary cause of the liberty of Rome. Observe also, in his seventh chapter, the strong reasons upon which he grounds the utility, or rather the necessity, of public accusations; and with what justness of discrimination he distinguishes, in his eighth chapter, the effect of public accusations, preferred on public grounds, from those of adulation and calumny. In a word, he reasons inductively from history as he finds it, and deduces his conclusions, not from any appeal to general or speculative principles, but from the facts as these are detailed in the pages of the historian. If he errs, it is only because his experience, acquired in a peculiar state of society, does not always enable him to calculate the effect of institutions differing from those of which he had observed the operation; but in regard to all that comes within the sphere of his own observation or experience, his sagacity is seldom at fault, and he may justly be considered as the founder of that science which has been somewhat vaguely denominated the philosophy of history.

The books Delle Historie Eiorentine i a work in which he begins by describing the events which brought about the destruction of the Roman empire, are altogether an admirable composition, and entitle Machiavelli to a separate place amongst historians, seeing that the ancients have not left any model on which he could form a particular style. The first book displays the science and penetration of the writer; and it may be supposed that Bossuet was filled with admiration of his free, bold, rapid, and independent manner, when he sketched the plan of his Discourse on Universal History. The narrative in the seven other books proceeds with the same vivacity; nor can the most careless reader fail to receive from it a vivid and faithful impression of the national character and manners of the Florentines. This work was undoubtedly the last of the author. He is believed to have completed it in 1525; and it was his intention, we are told, to continue it, which is rendered probable by the fragments collected after his decease. The general character of Machiavelli’s style, particularly in the History and in the Life of Castruccio, is elegance and simplicity. He is always full of grace without artifice, and of elegance without insipidity; he is clear without being verbose, and concise without obscurity or pretension to the mysterious; and such is the transparency of the medium through which his ideas are conveyed, that the actual depth of the current of thought is not at first discernible.

Although the real merit of the Florentine secretary consists in his profound knowledge of the science of government, in which he has not been surpassed either amongst the ancients or the moderns, yet he is also entitled to a distinguished place amongst comic authors. His Mandragola, which, according to Voltaire, surpasses all the comedies of Aristophanes, is superior to the best of Goldoni, and inferior only to the best of Molière; in fact, it is the work of a man who, if he had devoted himself to the drama, would probably have attained the very highest excellence, and produced a permanent and salutary impression upon the national taste. By the correct and vigorous delineation of human character, it produces interest without a skilful or pleasing plot, and laughter without the least ambition or affectation. Machiavelli had an exquisite sense of the ridiculous, and his dramatic humour, which has often been compared to that of Molière, and certainly resembles it in comic force, if not in benevolent gaiety and chastened morality, seldom fails to prove effective. The Clizia is an imitation of the Casina of Plautus, which is itself an imitation of the lost Kaijpouμsκ)∕ of Diphilus. Machiavelli has executed his task with judgment and taste, accommodating the plot to a different state of society, and dexterously connecting with it the history of his own times. Besides these, the Maschere, the Andria , and two other comedies without titles, the one in prose and the other in verse, appear amongst the works of Machiavelli. The charming little novel of Belphegor is also pleasantly conceived and wittily told; but the extravagance of the satire in some measure injures its effect. Machiavelli was unhappily married; and his wish to avenge his own cause as well as [7:13:648]that of his brethren in misfortune carried him beyond even the license of fiction.^[8. The subject of this novella ρiacevolissima cannot be better described than in the words of the argument prefixed: “Befagor ar-cidiavolo è mandato da Plutone in questo mondo, con obligo di dover prender moglie. Ci viene, la prende; e non potendo soffe-rire la superbia di lei, ama meglio retornarsi in Inferno, che ricogiugnersi seco.” Ben Jonson, in the plot of The Devil ìi an Αss, appears to have taken some hints from this tale, with others from Boccacio. ]

Machiavelli was also a poet, though, in this capacity, he is not perhaps entitled to a very high place. The Decennali are merely abstracts in verse of the history of his own times. The style and versification are sedulously modelled on those of Dante; but the manner of hante, like that of every other great original poet, was suited only to his own genius and his own subject, and did not therefore admit of being copied or imitated. The Assino d’Ora and the Capitali are also formed on the same model, and are in every respect superior. The Golden Ass indeed has nothing but the name in common with the romance of Apuleius, which, in spite of its irregular plan and vicious style, is one of the most fascinating books in the Latin language, combining the various merits of Le Sage and Radcliffe, Bunyan and Crébillon. The poem of Machiavelli, which is evidently unfinished, is copied from the earlier cantos of the Inferno; whole lines are transferred without acknowledgment, and all without producing their wonted effect; the flowers of language which have bloomed upon one soil, wither when transplanted to another. Yet the Assina d ’ Oro is not altogether destitute of merit; the allegory displays considerable ingenuity, and there is some vivid colouring in the descriptions.

But, of all the works of Machiavelli, that which has excited the greatest attention is the celebrated treatise entitled II Principe. This production, in which the ferocious Borgia is, according to the supposition of several writers, presented as a model to sovereigns who wish to govern absolutely, has acquired a deplorable reputation in Europe, and made the author himself be regarded by many as an incarnation of the evil principle.^[9. ' i “Out of his surname,” says a writer in the Edinburgh Review (vol. xlv. p. 260), “they coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian name a synonyme for the devil.” For the latter point, the writer has the authority of Hudibras (part iii. canto i.). Nick Machiavel had ne’er a trick, Though he gave his name to our Old Nick. But on this subject the antiquarians, we believe, are by no means agreed. ] The first edition, known as that of Antonio Blado d’Asola, appeared at Rome on the 4th of January 1532, accompanied with a privilege of Pope Clement VII. and dedicated to Philip Strozzi, the friend of the author. Bayle speaks of an edition of 1515, which no one has seen, there being, in all probability, a misprint in the date. The Giunta reprinted the Prince the same year, 1532, and again in 1540. The sons of Aldus also published it at Venice in 1540; and Gabriel Giolito gave an edition of it in 1550. It was successively translated into German, Montbéliard, 1626; twice into Latin; then into French by Amelot de la Houssaye (Amsterdam, 1683, and Hague, 1743), and, lastly, by Giraudet in 1799, along with the complete works of the author.

We know not of any work which has excited so much discussion and controversy as this, or which has been so often and so vehemently assailed. The intentions of the author have been variously interpreted. Some, thinking they saw in it a complete system of irréligion, impiety, and tyranny, have cried out “Wolf, wolf ;”^[10. preface to the French edition of 1813. ] whilst others have demanded that, according to the rules of just criticism, the work should be judged of as a whole, not by detached or disfigured fragments, and that, above all, the disapprobation with which the author always accompanies the exposition of the perverse principles he has developed, should not be dissembled or concealed. Voltaire, writing to the prince-royal of Prussia (20th May 1738), observes: “The first thing I am obliged to advert to is the manner in which you think of Machiavel. Why should you be moved with the virtuous displeasure which you express against me because I have praised the style of a bad man ?, It is for the Borgias, father and son, and all those petty princes who require crimes to effect their elevation, to study this infernal policy. It belongs to such a prince as you to detest it. This art, which may be classed with that of the Locustes and the Brinvilliers, may give to some tyrants a temporary sway, just as poison may procure an inheritance; but most assuredly it has never made men either great or happy. What, then, can any one accomplish by pursuing this frightful policy? Nothing but misery to others, and also to himself. These are the truths which should form the catechism of your exalted soul.” On the 26th of June 1739, the prince replies to this flattering homage in the true French style, by informing his correspondent that what he meditates against Machiavelism is properly a continuation of the Henriade. “It is out of the noble sentiments of Henri IV.” says he, “that I am forging the thunderbolt which will crush Cesare Borgia.” On the 27th of December, Voltaire renders homage for homage. “We shall at length,” says he, “have a book worthy of a prince; and I doubt not that an edition of Machiavel, with this counter-poison at the end of each chapter, will be one of the most precious monuments of literature.” “The Anti-Machiavel? he adds, “ought to become the catechism of kings, and of their ministers.” The book which, in this commerce of flattery, Voltaire denominates Anti-Machiavel, is the Examen du Prince de Machiavel, by the prince-royal, afterwards king of Prussia, who, in his preface, declares that “he always looked upon the Prince as one of the most dangerous works that ever was published,” though he afterwards lived long enough to find some of its maxims more convenient and agreeable than he had at first anticipated.

It would be equally endless and impqrtinent to relate the host of criticisms and apologies, of accusations and defences, of which Machiavelli has been the object, in almost all the languages of Europe. But we shall cite the authority of a judge whom it will not be easy to refute; we mean that of the Florentine secretary himself. Before finishing his treatise of the Prince, he wrote to one of his friends, Francisco Vettori, a letter, which discloses without any reserve his real position and his motives, and thus puts an end to all speculation upon the subject. This letter, found in the Barberini library at Rome, was published for the first time by Angelo Ridolfi, in a work entitled Pensieri intarna allo scapa di Nicoa Machiavella nel libra II Principe, Milan, 1810; and Ginguenê has also cited it in his Histoire Littéraire d , Italie, though, for some reason, he has divided it into two parts, giving the one half in the text, and the other half in a note. The first part contains details which may perhaps be considered as ignoble, but which nevertheless make known the peculiar cast of character, as well as the patience, of the author; the second shows him in all the dignity of his talent. We shall only cite the portion which has immediate reference to the subject before us.

“On the approach of evening,” says he, continuing the description of his habits and mode of life, “I retire to my dwelling, and enter my cabinet; at the door I divest myself of my peasant’s garb, bedaubed with mud and dirt, put on proper attire, and thus decently dressed I enter the ancient courts of men of old. Being well received by them, I fill myself with that nourishment which alone agrees with [7:13:649]me, and for which I was born; nor do I hesitate to converse with them,and to inquire the motives of their actions; whilst they, on the other hand, being full of humanity, reply to my inquiries. For four hours I experience no weariness; I forget all sorrow; I have no dread of poverty, and death no longer alarms me; I transport myself entirely to them; and, as Dante says that there will never be science unless we retain what we have learned, I have noted down the substance of my conversation with them, and composed a work, De Principatibus, in which I enter as deeply as I can into this subject, with a view to fathom it. I examine what a principality is; how many kinds there are of them; how they are acquired, how maintained, how lost; and if ever any trifle (ffiiiribizzo) of mine gave you pleasure, this should not displease you. It should also be acceptable to a prince, more especially to a new one; wherefore I address it to the magnificent Julius.^[11. In point of fact, it is dedicated to the young Lorenzo de’ Medici, duke of Urbino, and brother-in-law of Strozzi. ] Philip Casavecchia has seen my treatise, and can inform you in detail of the subject itself, and the arguments I have had with him; and as to myself, I am now occupied in extending and correcting it. You wish that I should abandon my actual mode of life, and go to enjoy yonrs; I will do so gladly; but I am prevented at present by some affairs which will be settled in about six weeks. The only thing which makes me hesitate is, that, near these Soderini, I shall be obliged, on my arrival, to visit and to speak with them. I am also apprehensive that, upon my return, instead of stopping at my own house, they would make me alight at the barigel (prison); for although this state stands on solid foundations, and enjoys great security, still it is new, and consequently suspicious; nor are there wanting meddling intriguers {saccentι), who, like Paul Bertini, would run up a long score, and leave me to pay the reckoning. I beseech you to save me from this danger, and I will by all means come to yon at the time I have mentioned. I have been talking with Philip about my little work (the Prince), and I have asked him whether it would be proper to give it to the world or not, and, in the event of its being expedient to do so, whether I should bring it myself or send it to you. Were it not published, it is doubtful whether it would ever be read by Julius, and Ar-dinghclli^[12. Nicoas Ardinghelli, distinguished for his acquirements in Greek and Roman literature, died a cardinal at Rome in 1547∙ ] would reap the honour of this the last of my works. The necessity which pursues me, however, urges me to give it, because I am wasting away, and cannot long remain thus without becoming contemptible through poverty. My wish is, that these Medici would begin to employ me, were it only at first to roll α stone. If I did not then gain their good will, I would have myself only to blame; and by this production, if it be read, people will see that, during the fifteen years I passed in studying the art of government, I have not been a careless or inattentive observer; besides, every one should be eager to employ a man who has acquired experience at the expense of others. Of my fidelity no doubt can reasonably be entertained, because, having always acted with good faith, I am not likely now to sacrifice my character. He who has been faithful and good forty-three years, which is my present age, cannot change his nature. My indigence sufficiently attests my fidelity and uprightness.”

This letter requires no explanation or commentary. In it Machiavelli lays bare his whole soul, disclosing without reserve his vexation, his dread of misery, the shame with which he regarded the almost disgusting situation to which he had been reduced, and his desire at any sacrifice to be again employed in public affairs; nor will the attentive observer, who reads it with care, fail to discover in it a key to the treatise of the Principe. Indeed the Italian writers no longer judge of that work without referring to the letter addressed to Vettori.^[13. On this question, and on other important points relative to Machiavelli, the reader may consult the excellent dissertation of the Chevalier Baldelli. ] It has been said that Machiavelli, despairing of the liberty of Florence, was inclined to support any government which might secure its independence. But this is a refinement wholly unsupported by evidence. The motive which impelled him to the composition of the work was actual indigence, and the prospect of still greater misery; the object which he sought to attain by it was immediate employment under the new masters of Florence, were it only in the first instance to roll a stone. None of the designs which have been so freely imagined, and so confidently ascribed to the fallen secretary, seems ever to" have entered his mind. He wanted bread, and thinking that his book, containing the results of his experience and observation, would be acceptable to a prince, especially a new one, he tenders it through Vettori, in the hope that it might be instrumental in saving him from that destitution, the prospect of which he contemplated with so much horror. It is also to be observed that the book, when first published, did not appear to the Italians in the light in which it was afterwards regarded. This is sufficiently evident from the fact that it was printed in virtue of a privilege granted by Pope Clement VII., dated the 23d of August 1531. Italy was then abandoned to such disorders, that some sovereigns hoped to find useful counsels, where, in point of sound morality, they could meet with nothing but odious precepts. At the same time, if we separate the author from his work, it may be observed, that Machiavelli could not know that his work would ever be published. He composed it in the form of a memoir to Lorenzo de’ Medici; and in his dedication to that young prince, he tells him that he has nothing to offer him but the knowledge of the actions of great men, which he had acquired by long experience in modern affairs; and at the close he adds, “If your magnificence, from the elevated station you occupy, would deign to cast an eye on this lower region, you would learn how unjustly I suffer under the great and continual malignity of fortune.”^[14. Et se vostra Magnificenza dallo apice della sua Altezza, qualche volta volgerà gli occhi in questi luoghi bassi, conoscerà quanto indegnamente io sopporti una grande e continua malignità di Fortuna.” ]

With regard to the general character of Machiavelli as a writer, and also to the particular question, whether the treatise of the Prince was a serious production, or, as Bacon seems to suggest,^[15. “Est quod gratias agamus Machiavello et hujusmodi scriptoribus, qui aperte et indissimulanter proferunt quid hotnines facere soleant, non quid debeant.” (Z)e Augment. Scient, lib. viii. c. 2.) ] merely a piece of grave irony, intended to put nations on their guard against the arts of new and ambitious princes, we refer the reader to the judicious and discriminating remarks upon both points, contained in the First Preliminary Dissertation (pp. 32-37). The Prince is an account of the means by which tyrannical power is to be acquired and preserved; it is a theory of that class of phenomena in the history of mankind. Hence it is essential to its purpose that it should contain an enumeration and exposition of tyrannical arts; and on this account it may not only be viewed, but used, as a manual of such arts. A philosophical treatise on poisons would, in like manner, determine the quantity of each poisonous substance capable of producing death, the circumstances favourable or adverse to its operation, and every other information essential to the purpose of the poisoner, though not intended for his use. But the general utility of such a work is, [7:13:650]nevertheless, indisputable; and it is also plain, that a calm unvarnished exposition of tyrannical arts is the bitterest satire against them. Of this Machiavelli himself seems to have been fully aware, when he observed, in reply to a remark which had been made upon this very work, that if he had taught princes to be tyrants, he had also taught the people to destroy tyrants. ⅛ ’ he Prince must, therefore, have had the double aspect here pointed out, though neither of the objects thereby indicated had actually been in the contemplation of the author. It may not be the object of the chemist to teach the means of exhibiting antidotes, any more than of administering poisons; but his pupils or readers may employ his discoveries for both objects. Aristotle had long before given a similar theory of tyranny, but without the suspicion of an immoral intention; nor was it any novelty, in more recent times, amongst those who must have been the first teachers of Machiavelli. The schoolmen followed the footsteps of Aristotle too closely to omit so striking a passage as that to which we have alluded {Politic, lib. v. c∙ 3); and, in fact, Aquinas explains it in his commentary, like the rest, with most unsuspecting simplicity. To us, accordingly, the plan of Machiavelli, like those of former writers, appears to have been purely scientific; and so Lord Bacon seems to have understood him, where he gives him thanks for exposing openly, and without reserve, what princes actually do, not what they ought to do. Great defects of character are no doubt manifested by the writings of Machiavelli. But if a man of so powerful a genius had shown a mind utterly depraved, it would have been a painful and perhaps solitary exception to the laws of human nature; and certainly no depravity can be conceived greater than a deliberate intention to teach perfidy and cruelty. That a man who was a warm lover of his country, who underwent cruel sufferings for her liberty, and who was esteemed by the very best of his countrymen (e. g. Guicciardini, his political opponent), should fall into such unparalleled wickedness, may be considered as wholly incredible. The author of the Prince, according to the common notion of its intention, could never have inspired such sentiments, had he been a man steeped in depravity, and devoid of all virtuous feeling. To possess the power, however, of contemplating tyranny with scientific coldness, and of rendering it the mere subject of theoretical speculation, must be owned to indicate a defect of moral sensibility. But, to say nothing of the political maxims then received, and of the lenity with which the Italians regarded those crimes which required self-command, address, quick observation, fertile invention, and profound knowledge of human nature, the Prince was obviously wrung from the author by the pressure of severe distress; and it is more than probable, that, but for his misfortunes, this famous treatise would never have seen the light.^[16. See Edinburgh Review, vol. xxvii. pp. 213, 214. ]

The most ample and esteemed edition of the works of Machiavelli is that of 1813, Italia (Florence), in eight vols. 8vo. The best of the French translations is that of Giraudet and Hochet, Paris, 1799, in nine vols. 8vo. Those of Gohorry, Paris, 1571 and 1635, of the Sieur de Brien-cour, Rouen (Paris), 1669, and of Têtard, Hague, 1691— 1696, reprinted in 1743, were very incomplete. The only English translation to which we have had access is that of Farneworth, London, 1762, in two vols. 4to, which is overloaded with a great deal of rubbish that might well have been spared, and is, besides, defective in several respects, particularly in regard to the life of the author, and some of his minor productions. (a.)