so. France, after all her interventions, had to abandon the peninsula
at last, and what became of Spain, after she had destroyed Italy, is
known to every reader.

But to return to the despots of the Renaissance. A pure and simple
mind, we might think, would perhaps have argued that, since all power
is derived from God, these princes, if they were loyally and honestly
supported by all their subjects, must in time themselves improve and
los e all traces of their violent origin. But from characters and
imaginations inflamed by passion and ambition, reasoning of this kind
could not be expected. Like bad physicians, they thought to cure the
disease by removing the symptoms, and fancied that if the tyrant were
put to death, freedom would follow of itself. Or else, without
reflecting even to this extent, they sought only to give a vent to the
universal hatred, or to take vengeance for some family misfortune or
personal affront. Since the governments were absolute, and free from
all legal restraints, the opposition chose its weapons with equal
freedom. Boccaccio declares openly: 'Shall I call the tyrant king or
prince, and obey him loyally as my lord? No, for he is the enemy of the
commonwealth. Against him I may use arms, conspiracies, spies, ambushes
and fraud; to do so is a sacred and necessary work. There is no more
acceptable sacrifice than the blood of a tyrant.' We need not occupy
ourselves with individual cases; Machiavelli, in a famous chapter of
his 'Discorsi,' treats of the conspiracies of ancient and modern times
from the days of the Greek tyrants downwards, and classifies them with
cold-blooded indifference according to their various plans and results.
We need make but two observations, first on the murders committed in
church, and next on the influence of classical antiquity. So well was
the tyrant guarded that it was almost impossible to lay hands upon him
elsewhere than at solemn religious services; and on no other occasion