E-text prepared by Ted Garvin, David King,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
MACHIAVELLI
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
HENRY CUST. M.P.
VOLUME I
THE ART OF WAR
TRANSLATED BY
PETER WHITEHORNE
1560
THE PRINCE
TRANSLATED BY
EDWARD DACRES
1640
LONDON
Published by DAVID NUTT
at the Sign of the Phoenix LONG ACRE
1905
Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
TO MY FRIEND CHARLES WHIBLEY
H.C.
INTRODUCTION
The Life of a Day.
'
am at myfarm; and, since my last misfortunes, have not been in Florencetwenty days. I spent September in snaring thrushes; but at the endof the month, even this rather tiresome sport failed me. I risewith the sun, and go into a wood of mine that is being cut, where Iremain two hours inspecting the work of the previous day andconversing with the woodcutters, who have always some trouble onhand amongst themselves or with their neighbours. When I leave thewood, I go to a spring, and thence to the place which I use forsnaring birds, with a book under my arm—Dante or Petrarch, orone of the minor poets, like Tibullus or Ovid. I read the story oftheir passions, and let their loves remind me of my own, which is apleasant pastime for a while. Next I take the road, enter the inndoor, talk with the passers-by, inquire the news of theneighbourhood, listen to a variety of matters, and make note of thedifferent tastes and humours of men.
'This brings me to dinner-time, when I join my family and eatthe poor produce of my farm. After dinner I go back to the inn,where I generally find the host and a butcher, a miller, and a pairof bakers. With these companions I play the fool all day at cardsor backgammon: a thousand squabbles, a thousand insults and abusivedialogues take place, while we haggle over a farthing, and shoutloud enough to be heard from San Casciano.
'But when evening falls I go home and enter my writing-room. Onthe threshold I put off my country habits, filthy with mud andmire, and array myself in royal courtly garments. Thus worthilyattired, I make my entrance into the ancient courts of the men ofold, where they receive me with love, and where I feed upon thatfood which only is my own and for which I was born. I feel no shamein conversing with them and asking them the reason of theiractions.
'They, moved by their humanity, make answer. For four hours'space I feel no annoyance, forget all care; poverty cannotfrighten, nor death appal me. I am carried away to their society.And since Dante says "that there is no science unless we retainwhat we have learned" I have set down what I have gained from theirdiscourse, and composed a treatise, De Principalibus, inwhich I enter as deeply as I can into the science of the subject,with reasonings on the nature of principality, its several species,and how they are acquired, how maintained, how lost. If you everliked any of my scribblings, this ought to suit your taste. To aprince, and especially to a new prince, it ought to proveacceptable. Therefore I am dedicating it to the Magnificence ofGiuliano.'
Niccolò Machiavelli.
Such is the account that Niccolò Machiavelli renders ofhimself when after imprisonment, torture, and disgrace, at the ageof forty-four, he first turned to serious writing. For the firsttwenty-six or indeed twenty-nine of those years we have not oneline from his pen or one word of vaguest information about him.Throughout all hi