that it seemed hopeless to deal fairly with them--yet there was a
radical taint in the soul of the man who could have the heart to cull
these poisonous herbs of policy and distill their juices to a
quintessence for the use of the prince to whom he was confiding the
destinies of Italy.[1] Almost involuntarily we remember the oath which
Arthur administered to his knights, when he bade them 'never to do
outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason; also by no means to be
cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of
forfeiture of their worship and lordship of King Arthur for evermore.'
In a land where chivalry like this had ever taken root, either as an
ideal or as an institution, the chapters of Machiavelli could scarcely
have been published. The Italians lacked the virtues of knighthood. It
was possible among them for the philosophers to teach the princes that
success purchased at the expense of honor, loyalty, humanity, and truth
might be illustrious.

It is refreshing to turn from those chapters in which Machiavelli
teaches the Prince how to cope with the world by using the vices of the
wicked, to his exposition of the military organization suited to the
maintenance of a great kingdom. Machiavelli has no mean or humble
ambition for his Prince: 'double will his glory be, who has founded a
new realm, and fortified and adorned it with good laws, good arms, good
friends, and good ensamples.' What the enterprise to which he fain would
rouse Lorenzo really is, will appear in the conclusion. Meanwhile he
encourages him by the example of Ferdinand the Catholic to gird his
loins up for great enterprises. He bids him be circumspect in his choice
of secretaries, seeing that 'the first opinion formed of a prince and of
his capacity is derived from the men whom he has gathered round him.' He
points out how he should shun flattery and seek respectful but sincere
advice. Finally he reminds him that a prince is impotent unless he can