Excerpts from Niccolo Machiavelli and Thomas Hobbes
From Machiavelli’s
Prince (A.D. 1532):
CHAPTER XV:
Concerning Things For Which Men, And Especially
Princes, Are Praised Or Blamed
IT REMAINS now to see what ought to be the rules of conduct for a prince towards subject and friends. And as I know that many have written on this point, I expect I shall be considered presumptuous in mentioning it again, especially as in discussing it I shall depart from the methods of other people. But, it being my intention to write a thing which shall be useful to him who apprehends it, it appears to me more appropriate to follow up the real truth of a matter than the imagination of it; for many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never been known or seen, because 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; for a man who wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with what destroys him among so much that is evil.
Hence it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity. Therefore, putting on one side imaginary things concerning a prince, and discussing those which are real, I say that all men when they are spoken of, and chiefly princes for being more highly placed, are remarkable for some of those qualities which bring them either blame or praise; and thus it is that one is reputed liberal, another miserly, using a Tuscan term (because an avaricious person in our language is still he who desires to possess by robbery, whilst we call one miserly who deprives himself too much of the use of his own); one is reputed generous, one rapacious; one cruel, one compassionate; one faithless, another faithful; one effeminate and cowardly, another bold and brave; one affable, another haughty; one lascivious, another chaste; one sincere, another cunning; one hard, another easy; one grave, another frivolous; one religious, another unbelieving, and the like. And I know that everyone will confess that it would be most praiseworthy in a prince to exhibit all the above qualities that are considered good; but because they can neither be entirely possessed nor observed, for human conditions do not permit it, it is necessary for him to be sufficiently prudent that he may know how to avoid the reproach of those vices which would lose him his state; and also to keep himself, if it be possible, from those which would not lose him it; but this not being possible, he may with less hesitation abandon himself to them. And again, he need not make himself uneasy at incurring a reproach for those vices without which the state can only be saved with difficulty, for if everything is considered carefully, it will be found that something which looks like virtue, if followed, would be his ruin; whilst something else, which looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity.
CHAPTER XVII: Concerning Cruelty And Clemency, And Whether It Is Better To Be Loved Than Feared
COMING now to the other qualities mentioned above, I say that every prince ought to desire to be considered clement and not cruel. Nevertheless he ought to take care not to misuse this clemency. Cesare Borgia was considered cruel; notwithstanding, his cruelty reconciled the Romagna, unified it, and restored it to peace and loyalty. And if this be rightly considered, he will be seen to have been much more merciful than the Florentine people, who, to avoid a reputation for cruelty, permitted Pistoia to be destroyed. Therefore a prince, so long as he keeps his subjects united and loyal, ought not to mind the reproach of cruelty; because with a few examples he will be more merciful than those who, through too much mercy, allow disorders to arise, from which follow murders or robberies; for these are wont to injure the whole people, whilst those executions which originate with a prince offend the individual only.
And of all princes, it is impossible for the new prince to avoid the imputation of cruelty, owing to new states being full of dangers. Hence Virgil, through the mouth of Dido, excuses the inhumanity of her reign owing to its being new, saying:
Res dura, et regni novitas me talia cogunt
Moliri, et late fines custode tueri. 1
Nevertheless he ought to be slow to believe and to act, nor should he himself show fear, but proceed in a temperate manner with prudence and humanity, so that too much confidence may not make him incautious and too much distrust render him intolerable.
Upon this a question arises: whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? It may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, is much safer to be feared than loved, when, of the two, either must be dispensed with. Because this is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life and children, as is said above, when the need is far distant; but when it approaches they turn against you. And that prince who, relying entirely on their promises, has neglected other precautions, is ruined; because friendships that are obtained by payments, and not by greatness or nobility of mind, may indeed be earned, but they are not secured, and in time of need cannot be relied upon; and men have less scruple in offending one who is beloved than one who is feared, for love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails.
Nevertheless a prince ought to inspire fear in such a way that, if he does not win love, he avoids hatred; because he can endure very well being feared whilst he is not hated, which will always be as long as he abstains from the property of his citizens and subjects and from their women. But when it is necessary for him to proceed against the life of someone, he must do it on proper justification and for manifest cause, but above all things he must keep his hands off the property of others, because men more quickly forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony. Besides, pretexts for taking away the property are never wanting; for he who has once begun to live by robbery will always find pretexts for seizing what belongs to others; but reasons for taking life, on the contrary, are more difficult to find and sooner lapse. But when a prince is with his army, and has under control a multitude of soldiers, then it is quite necessary for him to disregard the reputation of cruelty, for without it he would never hold his army united or disposed to its duties.
Among the wonderful deeds of Hannibal this one is enumerated: that having led an enormous army, composed of many various races of men, to fight in foreign lands, no dissensions arose either among them or against the prince, whether in his bad or in his good fortune. This arose from nothing else than his inhuman cruelty, which, with his boundless valour, made him revered and terrible in the sight of his soldiers, but without that cruelty, his other virtues were not sufficient to produce this effect. And shortsighted writers admire his deeds from one point of view and from another condemn the principal cause of them. That it is true his other virtues would not have been sufficient for him may be proved by the case of Scipio, that most excellent man, not of his own times but within the memory of man, against whom, nevertheless, his army rebelled in Spain; this arose from nothing but his too great forbearance, which gave his soldiers more licence than is consistent with military discipline. For this he was upbraided in the Senate by Fabius Maximus, and called the corrupter of the Roman soldiery. The Locrians were laid waste by a legate of Scipio, yet they were not avenged by him, nor was the insolence of the legate punished, owing entirely to his easy nature. Insomuch that someone in the Senate, wishing to excuse him, said there were many men who knew much better how not to err than to correct the errors of others. This disposition, if he had been continued in the command, would have destroyed in time the fame and glory of Scipio; but, he being under the control of the Senate, this injurious characteristic not only concealed itself, but contributed to his glory.
Returning to the question of being feared or loved, I come to the conclusion that, men loving according to their own will and fearing according to that of the prince, a wise prince should establish himself on that which is in his own control and not in that of others; he must endeavour only to avoid hatred, as is noted.
1. ...against my will, my fate,
A throne unsettled, and an infant state,
Bid me defend my realms with all my pow'rs,
And guard with these severities my
shores.
CHAPTER XXV: What Fortune Can Effect In Human
Affairs, And How To Withstand Her
IT is not unknown to me how
many men have had, and still have, the opinion that the affairs of the world
are in such wise governed by fortune and by God that men with their wisdom
cannot direct them and that no one can even help them; and because of this they
would have us believe that it is not necessary to labour
much in affairs, but to let chance govern them. This opinion has been more
credited in our times because of the great changes in affairs which have been
seen, and may still be seen, every day, beyond all human conjecture. Sometimes
pondering over this, I am in some degree inclined to their opinion.
Nevertheless, not to extinguish our free will, I hold it to be true that
Fortune is the arbiter of one-half of our actions, but that she still leaves us
to direct the other half, or perhaps a little less.
I compare her to one of those
raging rivers, which when in flood overflows the plains, sweeping away trees
and buildings, bearing away the soil from place to place; everything flies
before it, all yield to its violence, without being able in any way to
withstand it; and yet, though its nature be such, it does not follow therefore
that men, when the weather becomes fair, shall not make provision, both with defences and barriers, in such a manner that, rising again,
the waters may pass away by canal, and their force be neither so unrestrained
nor so dangerous. So it happens with fortune, who
shows her power where valour has not prepared to
resist her, and thither she turns her forces where she knows that barriers and defences have not been raised to constrain her.
And if you will consider Italy,
which is the seat of these changes, and which has given to them their impulse,
you will see it to be an open country without barriers and without any defence. For if it had been defended by proper valour, as are Germany, Spain, and France, either this
invasion would not have made the great changes it has made or it would not have
come at all. And this I consider enough to say concerning resistance to fortune
in general.
But confining myself more to
the particular, I say that a prince may be seen happy to-day and ruined
to-morrow without having shown any change of disposition or character. This, I
believe, arises firstly from causes that have already been discussed at length,
namely, that the prince who relies entirely upon fortune is lost when it
changes. I believe also that he will be successful who directs his actions
according to the spirit of the times, and that he whose actions do not accord
with the times will not be successful. Because men are seen, in affairs that lead
to the end which every man has before him, namely, glory and riches, to get
there by various methods; one with caution, another with haste; one by force,
another by skill; one by patience, another by its opposite; and each one
succeeds in reaching the goal by a different method. One can also see of two
cautious men the one attain his end, the other fail; and similarly, two men by
different observances are equally successful, the one being cautious, the other
impetuous; all this arises from nothing else than whether or not they conform
in their methods to the spirit of the times. This follows from what I have
said, that two men working differently bring about the same effect, and of two
working similarly, one attains his object and the other does not.
Changes in estate also issue
from this, for if, to one who governs himself with caution and patience, times
and affairs converge in such a way that his administration is successful, his
fortune is made; but if times and affairs change, he is ruined if he does not
change his course of action. But a man is not often found sufficiently
circumspect to know how to accommodate himself to the change, both because he
cannot deviate from what nature inclines him to, and also because, having
always prospered by acting in one way, he cannot be persuaded that it is well
to leave it; and, therefore, the cautious man, when it is time to turn
adventurous, does not know how to do it, hence he is ruined; but had he changed
his conduct with the times fortune would not have changed.
Pope Julius II went to work
impetuously in all his affairs, and found the times and circumstances conform
so well to that line of action that he always met with success. Consider his
first enterprise against Bologna, Messer Giovanni Bentivogli
being still alive. The Venetians were not agreeable to it, nor was the King of
Spain, and he had the enterprise still under discussion with the King of
France; nevertheless he personally entered upon the expedition with his
accustomed boldness and energy, a move which made Spain and the Venetians stand
irresolute and passive, the latter from fear, the former from desire to recover
all the kingdom of Naples; on the other hand, he drew after him the King of
France, because that king, having observed the movement, and desiring to make
the Pope his friend so as to humble the Venetians, found it impossible to
refuse him soldiers without manifestly offending him. Therefore Julius with his
impetuous action accomplished what no other pontiff with simple human wisdom
could have done; for if he had waited in Rome until he could get away, with his
plans arranged and everything fixed, as any other pontiff would have done, he
would never have succeeded. Because the King of France would have made a
thousand excuses, and the others would have raised a thousand fears.
I will leave his other actions
alone, as they were all alike, and they all succeeded, for the shortness of his
life did not let him experience the contrary; but if circumstances had arisen
which required him to go cautiously, his ruin would have followed, because he
would never have deviated from those ways to which nature inclined him.
I conclude therefore that,
fortune being changeful and mankind steadfast in their ways, so long as the two
are in agreement men are successful, but unsuccessful when they fall out. For
my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because
fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat
and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the
adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. She is, therefore,
always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more
violent, and with more audacity command her.
From Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan
(A.D. 1651):
Chapter XLVI: Of Darkness from Vain Philosophy and Fabulous Traditions
BY philosophy is understood the
knowledge acquired by reasoning, from the manner of the generation of anything,
to the properties; or from the properties, to some possible way of generation
of the same; to the end to be able to produce, as far as matter and human force
permit, such effects as human life requireth. So the
geometrician, from the construction of figures, findeth
out many properties thereof; and from the properties, new ways of their
construction, by reasoning; to the end to be able to measure land and water;
and for infinite other uses. So the astronomer, from the rising, setting, and
moving of the sun and stars in diverse parts of the heavens, findeth out the causes of day and night, and of the
different seasons of the year, whereby he keepeth an
account of time; and the like of other sciences.
By which definition it is
evident that we are not to account as any part thereof that original knowledge
called experience, in which consisteth prudence,
because it is not attained by reasoning, but found as well in brute beasts as
in man; and is but a memory of successions of events in times past, wherein the
omission of every little circumstance, altering the effect frustrateth
the expectation of the most prudent: whereas nothing is produced by reasoning
aright, but general, eternal, and immutable truth.
Nor are we therefore to give
that name to any false conclusions; for he that reasoneth
aright in words he understandeth can never conclude
an error:
Nor to that which any man knows
by supernatural revelation; because it is not acquired by reasoning:
Nor that which is gotten by
reasoning from the authority of books; because it is not by reasoning from the
cause to the effect, nor from the effect to the cause; and is not knowledge,
but faith.
The faculty of reasoning being
consequent to the use of speech, it was not possible but that there should have
been some general truths found out by reasoning, as ancient almost as language
itself. The savages of America are not without some good moral sentences; also
they have a little arithmetic, to add and divide in numbers not too great; but
they are not therefore philosophers. For as there were plants of corn and wine
in small quantity dispersed in the fields and woods, before men knew their
virtue, or made use of them for their nourishment, or planted them apart in
fields and vineyards; in which time they fed on acorns and drank water: so also
there have been diverse true, general, and profitable speculations from the
beginning, as being the natural plants of human reason. But they were at first
but few in number; men lived upon gross experience; there was no method; that
is to say, no sowing nor planting of knowledge by itself, apart from the weeds
and common plants of error and conjecture. And the cause of it being the want
of leisure from procuring the necessities of life, and defending themselves
against their neighbours, it was impossible, till the
erecting of great Commonwealths, it should be otherwise. Leisure is the mother
of philosophy; and Commonwealth, the mother of peace and leisure. Where first
were great and flourishing cities, there was first the study of philosophy. The
Gymnosophists of India, the Magi of Persia, and the Priests of Chaldaea and Egypt are counted the most ancient
philosophers; and those countries were the most ancient of kingdoms. Philosophy
was not risen to the Grecians and other people of the West, whose
Commonwealths, no greater perhaps than Lucca or Geneva, had never peace but
when their fears of one another were equal; nor the leisure to observe anything
but one another. At length, when war had united many of these Grecian lesser
cities into fewer and greater, then began seven men, of several parts of
Greece, to get the reputation of being wise; some of them for moral and politic
sentences, and others for the learning of the Chaldaeans
and Egyptians, which was astronomy and geometry. But we hear not yet of any
schools of philosophy.
* * *
Now to descend to the
particular tenets of vain philosophy, derived to the Universities, and thence
into the Church, partly from Aristotle, partly from blindness of understanding;
I shall first consider their principles. There is a certain philosophia prima on which all other philosophy ought to depend; and consisteth principally in right limiting of the
significations of such appellations, or names, as are of all others the most
universal; which limitations serve to avoid ambiguity and equivocation in
reasoning, and are commonly called definitions; such as are the definitions of
body, time, place, matter, form, essence, subject, substance, accident, power,
act, finite, infinite, quantity, quality, motion, action, passion, and diverse
others, necessary to the explaining of a man's conceptions concerning the
nature and generation of bodies. The explication (that is, the settling of the
meaning) of which, and the like terms, is commonly in the Schools called
metaphysics; as being a part of the philosophy of Aristotle, which hath that
for title. But it is in another sense; for there it signifieth as much as "books written or placed after
his natural philosophy": but the Schools take them for books of
supernatural philosophy: for the word metaphysics will bear both these senses.
And indeed that which is there written is for the most part so far from the
possibility of being understood, and so repugnant to natural reason, that
whosoever thinketh there is anything to be understood
by it must needs think it supernatural.
From these metaphysics, which
are mingled with the Scripture to make School divinity, we are told there be in
the world certain essences separated from bodies, which they call abstract
essences, and substantial forms; for the interpreting of which jargon, there is
need of somewhat more than ordinary attention in this place. Also I ask pardon
of those that are not used to this kind of discourse for applying myself to those that are. The world (I mean not the earth
only, that denominates the lovers of it "worldly men," but the
universe, that is, the whole mass of all things that are) is corporeal, that is
to say, body; and hath the dimensions of magnitude, namely, length, breadth,
and depth: also every part of body is likewise body, and hath the like
dimensions; and consequently every part of the universe is body, and that which
is not body is no part of the universe: and because the universe is all that
which is no part of it is nothing, and consequently nowhere. Nor does it follow
from hence that spirits are nothing: for they have dimensions and are therefore
really bodies; though that name in common speech be given to such bodies only
as are visible or palpable; that is, that have some degree of opacity: but for
spirits, they call them incorporeal, which is a name of more honour, and may therefore with more piety be attributed to
God Himself; in whom we consider not what attribute expresseth
best His nature, which is incomprehensible, but what best expresseth
our desire to honour Him.
Chapter XIII: Of the Natural Condition of Mankind as Concerning Their
Felicity and Misery
NATURE hath made men so equal
in the faculties of body and mind as that, though there be found one man
sometimes manifestly stronger in body or of quicker mind than another, yet when
all is reckoned together the difference between man and man is not so
considerable as that one man can thereupon claim to himself any benefit to
which another may not pretend as well as he. For as to the strength of body,
the weakest has strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret
machination or by confederacy with others that are in the same danger with himself.
And as to the faculties of the
mind, setting aside the arts grounded upon words, and especially that skill of
proceeding upon general and infallible rules, called science, which very few
have and but in few things, as being not a native faculty born with us, nor
attained, as prudence, while we look after somewhat else, I find yet a greater
equality amongst men than that of strength. For prudence is but experience,
which equal time equally bestows on all men in those things they equally apply
themselves unto. That which may perhaps make such equality incredible is but a
vain conceit of one's own wisdom, which almost all men think they have in a
greater degree than the vulgar; that is, than all men but themselves, and a few
others, whom by fame, or for concurring with themselves, they approve. For such
is the nature of men that howsoever they may acknowledge many others to be more
witty, or more eloquent or more learned, yet they will hardly believe there be
many so wise as themselves; for they see their own wit at hand, and other men's
at a distance. But this proveth rather that men are
in that point equal, than unequal. For there is not ordinarily a greater sign
of the equal distribution of anything than that every man is contented with his
share.
From this equality of ability ariseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. And
therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot
both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to their end (which is
principally their own conservation, and sometimes their delectation only) endeavour to destroy or subdue one another. And from hence
it comes to pass that where an invader hath no more to fear than another man's
single power, if one plant, sow, build, or possess a convenient seat, others
may probably be expected to come prepared with forces united to dispossess and
deprive him, not only of the fruit of his labour, but
also of his life or liberty. And the invader again is in the like danger of
another.
And from this diffidence of one
another, there is no way for any man to secure himself so reasonable as
anticipation; that is, by force, or wiles, to master the persons of all men he
can so long till he see no other power great enough to endanger him: and this
is no more than his own conservation requireth, and
is generally allowed. Also, because there be some that, taking pleasure in
contemplating their own power in the acts of conquest, which they pursue
farther than their security requires, if others, that otherwise would be glad
to be at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion increase their
power, they would not be able, long time, by standing only on their defence, to subsist. And by consequence, such augmentation
of dominion over men being necessary to a man's conservation,
it ought to be allowed him.
Again, men have no pleasure
(but on the contrary a great deal of grief) in keeping company where there is
no power able to overawe them all. For every man looketh
that his companion should value him at the same rate he sets upon himself, and
upon all signs of contempt or undervaluing naturally endeavours,
as far as he dares (which amongst them that have no common power to keep them
in quiet is far enough to make them destroy each other), to extort a greater
value from his contemners, by damage; and from
others, by the example.
So that in
the nature of man, we find three principal causes of quarrel. First, competition;
secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory.
The first maketh
men invade for gain; the second, for safety; and the third, for reputation. The
first use violence, to make themselves masters of other men's persons, wives,
children, and cattle; the second, to defend them; the third, for trifles, as a
word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of undervalue, either
direct in their persons or by reflection in their kindred, their friends, their
nation, their profession, or their name.
Hereby it is manifest that
during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they
are in that condition which is called war; and such a war as is of every man
against every man. For war consisteth
not in battle only, or the act of fighting, but in a tract of time, wherein the
will to contend by battle is sufficiently known: and therefore the notion of
time is to be considered in the nature of war, as it is in the nature of
weather. For as the nature of foul weather lieth
not in a shower or two of rain, but in an inclination thereto of many days
together: so the nature of war consisteth not in
actual fighting, but in the known disposition thereto during all the time there
is no assurance to the contrary. All other time is peace.
Whatsoever therefore is
consequent to a time of war, where every man is enemy to every man, the same
consequent to the time wherein men live without other security than what their
own strength and their own invention shall furnish them withal.
In such condition there is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is
uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of
the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no
instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force; no
knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no
society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent
death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
It may seem strange to some man
that has not well weighed these things that Nature should thus dissociate and
render men apt to invade and destroy one another: and he may therefore, not
trusting to this inference, made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the
same confirmed by experience. Let him therefore consider with himself: when
taking a journey, he arms himself and seeks to go well accompanied; when going
to sleep, he locks his doors; when even in his house he locks his chests; and
this when he knows there be laws and public officers, armed, to revenge all
injuries shall be done him; what opinion he has of his fellow subjects, when he
rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his doors; and of his
children, and servants, when he locks his chests. Does he not there as much
accuse mankind by his actions as I do by my words? But neither of us accuse man's nature in it. The desires, and other passions
of man, are in themselves no sin. No more are the actions that proceed from
those passions till they know a law that forbids them; which till laws be made
they cannot know, nor can any law be made till they have agreed upon the person
that shall make it.
It may peradventure be thought
there was never such a time nor condition of war as
this; and I believe it was never generally so, over all the world: but there
are many places where they live so now. For the savage people in many places of
America, except the government of small families, the concord whereof dependeth on natural lust, have no government at all, and
live at this day in that brutish manner, as I said before. Howsoever, it may be
perceived what manner of life there would be, where there were no common power
to fear, by the manner of life which men that have formerly lived under a
peaceful government use to degenerate into a civil war.
But though there had never been
any time wherein particular men were in a condition of war one against another,
yet in all times kings and persons of sovereign authority, because of their
independency, are in continual jealousies, and in the state and posture of
gladiators, having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another;
that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns upon the frontiers of their kingdoms,
and continual spies upon their neighbours, which is a
posture of war. But because they uphold thereby the industry of their subjects,
there does not follow from it that misery which accompanies the liberty of
particular men.
To this war of every man
against every man, this also is consequent; that nothing can be unjust. The
notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, have there no place. Where
there is no common power, there is no law; where no law, no injustice. Force
and fraud are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice and injustice are none
of the faculties neither of the body nor mind. If they were, they might be in a man that were alone in the world, as well as his senses
and passions. They are qualities that relate to men in society, not in
solitude. It is consequent also to the same condition that there be no
propriety, no dominion, no mine and thine distinct; but only that to be every
man's that he can get, and for so long as he can keep it. And thus much for the
ill condition which man by mere nature is actually placed in; though with a
possibility to come out of it, consisting partly in the passions, partly in his
reason.
The passions that incline men
to peace are: fear of death; desire of such things as are necessary to
commodious living; and a hope by their industry to obtain them. And reason suggesteth convenient articles of peace upon which men may
be drawn to agreement. These articles are they which otherwise are called the laws
of nature, whereof I shall speak more particularly in the two following
chapters.