A DISCOVRSE VPON THE MEANES OF VVEL GOVERNING AND MAINTAINING IN GOOD PEACE, A KINGDOME, OR OTHER PRINCIPALITIE.

Divided into three parts, namely, The Counsell, the Reli­gion, and the Policie, vvhich a Prince ought to hold and follow.

Against Nicholas Machiavell the Florentine.

Translated into English by Simon Patericke.

OVIBVS RESPVBLICA CONSERVETVR

LONDON, Printed by Adam Islip. 1602.

TO THE MOST FAMOVS YONG GENTLEMEN, AS WELL FOR RELIGION, MODESTIE, AND OTHER VERTVES, AS AL­so for kinred, Francis Hastings, and Edward Bacon, most heartie salutations.

AFter Solon (right Worshipfull yong men) had seene Thespis his first edition and action of a Tragoedie, and meeting vvith him before the playe, demaun­ded, If he vvere not ashamed to publish such feig­ned fables under so noble, yet a counterfeit perso­nage: Thespis answered, That it vvas no disgrace upon a stage (merrily and in sport) to say and do any thing. Then Solon (striking hard upon the earth vvith his staffe) re­plied thus: Yea but shortly, vve that now like and embrace this play, shall finde it practised in our contracts and common affaires. This man of deepe understanding, saw that publicke discipline and refor­mation of manners affected and attempted once in sport and ieast, vvould soone quaile: & corruption, at the beginning passing in play, vvould fall and end in earnest. Therefore Tacitus vvorthily dooth ex­toll the manners of the Germanes of his time, amongst vvhom, vices were not laughed at. For laughters begun of some publick shame and dishonestie, wil assuredly procure him some miserable calamitie. Here­of France is unto all ages and nations a vvofull view, yet a profitable instruction at this day. For vvhē the cleare light of the Gospell began first to spring and appeare, Sathan (to occupie and busie mens minds vvith toyish playes and trifles, that they might give no attendance un­to true vvisedome) devised this policie, to raise up jeasters and fooles in Courts, vvhich creeping in, by quipping and prettie conceits, first in vvords, and after by bookes, uttering their pleasant ieasts in the Courts and banquets of kings and princes, laboured to root up all the true principles of Religion and Policie. And some there vvere vvhom the resemblance of nature, or vanitie of wit had so deceived, that they [Page] derided the everlasting veritie of the true God, as if it were but a fable. Rabelaysus amongst the French, and Agrippa amongst the Germanes, were the standerd bearers of that traine: which with their skoffing taunts, inveighed not only against the Gospell, but all good arts what­soever. Those mockers did not as yet openly undermine the ground work of humane societie, but only they derided it: But such Cyclopian laughters, in the end prooved to be onely signes and tokens of future evils. For by little and little, that which was taken in the beginning for iestes, turned to earnest, & words into deedes. In the necke of these came new Poets, very eloquent for their owne profit, which incensed unto lust & lightnesse, such mindes as were alreadie inclined to wan­tonnesse, by quickening their appetites with the delectable sause of unchast hearing; and pricking them forward with the sharp spurres of pleasure. Who could then bridle vices and iniquities, vvhich are fed with much wealth, and no lesse libertie? seeing them not onely in play, mirth, and laughter entertained; but also earnestly accepted and com­mended, as being very excellent. Yet some troad the steps of honesty, which now lay a dying, and practised the ould manners and fashions, which were almost forgotten. For although the secret faults of the Court were evill spoken of, yet shame stoode in open view; hainous & infamous crimes kept secret corners; princes were of some credit and faith; lawes were in reasonable good use; magistrates had their due au­thoritie and reverence; all things onely for ostentation and outward shew, but none would then have feared an utter destruction: For than Sathan being a disguised person amongst the French, in the likenesse of a merry ieaster, acted a Comaedie, but shortly ensued a wofull Tra­goedie. When our countrie mens minds were sick, and corrupted with these pestilent diseases, and that discipline vvaxed stale; then came forth the books of Machiavell, a most pernitious vvriter, vvhich began not in secret and stealing manner (as did those former vices) but by o­pen meanes, and as it vvere a continuall assault, utterly destroyed, not this or that vertue, but even all vertues at once: Insomuch as it tooke Faith from the princes; authoritie and maiestie, from lavves; libertie from the people; and peace and concord from all persons, vvhich are the onely remedies for present malladies. For vvhat shall I speake of Religion, vvhereof the Machiavellians had none, as already plainelie appeareth; yet they greatly laboured also, to deprive us of the same. And although they have vvrongfully bannished us our native coun­trey, yet fight vvee still for the Churches defence. Moreover Sathan [Page] useth strangers of France, as his fittest instruments, to infect us stil with this deadly poyson sent out of Italie, vvho have so highly promoted their Machivellian bookes, that he is of no reputation in the Court of France, vvhich hath not Machiavels vvritings at the fingers ends, and that both in the Italian and French tongues, & can apply his precepts to all purposes, as the Oracles of Apollo. Truly it is a wonderfull thing to consider how fast that evill weede hath growne within these fewe yeares, seeing there is almost none that striveth to excell in vertue or knowledge: as though the onely way to obteine honour and riches were by this deceivers direction. But now to turne mine eyes from beholding so many miseries of poore afflicted France, as often as I see or remember our neighbour countries (which thing I doe daily) so often doe I bevvaile our miseries: Yet am I right ioyfull for your felici­tie; chiefely because God of his great bounty, hath given you a most renowned Queene, as well in deede, as title, even in the middest of so many troubles: For she comming to the crowne, even when England was tossed with tempestuous stormes, so dispersed those cloudes, with the brightnesse of her counsell and countenance, that no civile dissen­tion, nor externall invasion, hath disturbed your peace & tranquilitie, these many yeeres, especially so many vvarres sounding on every side: For shee by maintaining vvholesome unitie amongst all degrees, hath hitherto preserved the State of her realme, not onely safe but florish­ing▪ not by Machiavelian artes, as Guile, Perfidie, and other Villanies practising: but by true vertues, as Clemencie, Iustice, Faith. Therfore goeth she her progresse throgh her realme of England, entertained in all places with happy applause, reioysing, & prosperitie of all her sub­iects, she being a princesse, of both Nobles and commons, by dew de­sert most entirely beloved: Whereas vve against our vvils, behold our countrie svvimming in blood, and disfigured by subversion, vvhich is a ioyfull obiect to the eyes of strangers, yea and those labour most to vvork her destruction, vvho should bee most carefull to rescue & de­liver poore France, out of her long calamities: but the Lord vvill at length behould our miseries. But O hovv happy are yee, both because you have so gratious a Queene, & also for that the infectious Machia­velian doctrine, hath not breathed nor penetrated the intrails of most happy England. But that it might not so doe, I have done my endea­vour, to provide an Antidote and present remedie, to expell the force of so deadly poyson, if at any time it chance to infect you. For vvhen I thought it meete and right (especially in such a confused disorder of [Page] matters and times) to impart as vvell to our Frenchmen, as to other nations these discourses, first vvritten by a man of most singular lear­ning and vvisedome, I vvillingly undertooke this labour, vvhich I have performed to the uttermost of my povver, and novv I vvholy refer my selfe and my travaile, to serve for the benefit of publicke utilitie: Yet I properly dedicated and inscribed it in your names; both because al­though I never savv England, yet it might serve as a pledge, to testifie my thankfull minde tovvards your countrymen, vvhose singular cour­tesie & kindnesse shevved to my bretheren, vvhen they vvere banish­ed for the profession of the Gospell, hath generally bound mee to all Englishmen, but privately to you: as also that by vvay of exhortation, I might enflame you (being most vertuous Gentlemen) to study and follovv the contents of this booke, but especially the artes and vertues therein published, & almost in every vvord therof so highly commen­ded; vvhich indeede is no other thing, than you doe alreadie. For the beholding of your ancestors monuments of their vertues (vvhich are both many and famous) doth move you thereunto, more than the di­rections drawne from all ages and examples here delivered. Therfore my deare friend Francis, amongst so many notable examples of your realme, treade the steps of your unckle, the right honourable earle of Huntington, a man most admirable and ilustrious, as well for godli­nesse and other noble vertues, as for noble parentage & honour, rhat you mayshew your selfe vvorthie of your place and kindred. And you good Edward, imitate the vvisedome, sanctimonie, and integritie of your Father, the right Honourable Lord Nicholas Bacon, keeper of broade Seale of England, a man right renowned; that you may lively expresse the image of your Fathers vertues, in the excellent tovvard­nesse, vvhich you naturally have from your most vertuous Father: If you both, do daily ruminate and remember the familiar & best known examples of your ancestors, you cannot have more forcible persuasi­ons to moove you to that which is good and honest: But I vvill con­tinually pray God to prosper that good hope, vvhich your parents and kinsfolkes have of you, your good studies also, and that he vvill plentifully blesse and beautifie you, with all the gifts of his spirit, that you may become profitable members of the Church, your countrie, and commonweale, and may live long and happie daies.

Kalends Augusti. Anno 1577.

❧ Greeke, Latine, and French Authors, out of which, are extracted the Hystories and other things alledged in these Discourses against Machiavell.

  • Ammianus Marcellinus.
  • Annales of France.
  • Aristotle.
  • The Bible.
  • Capitolinus.
  • Cicero.
  • Comines.
  • Dion.
  • Dionysius Halicarnasseus.
  • Du Bellay.
  • Aeschylus.
  • Eurypides.
  • Florus.
  • Froissart.
  • Herodianus.
  • Homerus.
  • Horatius.
  • Iosephus.
  • Iuvenall.
  • Ius Civile & Canonicum.
  • Lampridius.
  • Molineus.
  • Monstrelet.
  • Munsterus.
  • Papon.
  • Paulus Aemylius.
  • Plinius Iunior.
  • Platina.
  • Plutarchus.
  • Pomponius Laetus.
  • Sabellicus.
  • Salustius.
  • Sleidanus.
  • Sophocles.
  • Spartianus.
  • Suetonius.
  • Tacitus.
  • Titus Livius.
  • Thucydides.
  • Trebellius Pollio.
  • Ʋirgil.
  • Ʋopiscus.
  • Xenephon.

A Preface to the first Part, entreating what Counsell a Prince should use. F

ARistotle and other Philosophers teach us, and experience confir­meth G it unto us, that there are two wayes to come unto the know­ledge of th [...]gs. The one, when from the causes and Maximes, men come to knowledge of the effects and consequences. The other, when contrarie, by the effects and consequences wee come to know the causes and Maximes. As for example, when we see the earth waxe greene, and trees gather leaves, we know by that effect, that the sunne (which is the cause thereof) approcheth nigh us: and we come to receive this Maxime, That the sunne gives vigour and force unto the earth to bring forth fruits: And by the contrarie also, when we have knowledge of this cause and H Maxime, we come to know the effect, & to conclude the consequence; which is, That that sunne comming nigh us, the earth bringeth foorth her fruits, and withdrawing from us, the earth leaveth to bring forth. The first of these two wayes is proper and peculiar unto the Mathematicians, which teach the truth of their Theoremes and Problemes by their demonstrations drawne from Maximes, which are common sentences allowed of them­selves for true, by the common sence and iudgement of all men. The second way belongs to other sciences, as to Naturall Philosophie, Morall Philosophie, Physicke, Law, Policie, and other Sciences, whereof the knowledge proceeds more commonly, by a resolute order of effects to their causes, and from particulars to generall Maximes, than by the first way: although it is certaine, that sometimes they also helpe themselves, both with the one and I the other way.

In the Politicke Art then (whereof Plato, Aristotle, and other Philosophers have written bookes) men may well use both these wayes. For from the effects and particulars of a civile government, men may come to the knowledge of Maximes and rules: and by the contrarie, by the rules and Maximes, men may have the knowledge of effects. So that when we see the effects of a politicke government, which is of no value, and which is per­nitious and evill, men are hereby brought to the knowledge of the Maximes and rules which are of the same sort: and by the good and profitable effects, men are also led to the notice of good rules and Maximes. And on the other side, good or evill rules and Maxi­mes do leade to the knowledge of like effects. Yet although the Maximes & general rules K of the Politicke Art, may something serve to know well to guide and governe a publicke estate (whether it bee principalitie or free cittie:) yet can they not bee so certaine as the Maximes of the Mathematicians, but are rules rather very dangerous, yea, pernitious, if men cannot make them serve and apply them unto affaires, as they happen to come; and not to apply the affaires unto these Maximes and rules. For the circumstances, dependan­ces, consequences, and the antecedents of every affaire and particular businesse, are all for [Page] the most part divers and contrarie: insomuch, that although two affaires be like, yet must A not men therefore conduct and determine them by one same rule or Maxime, because of the diversitie and difference of accidents and circumstances: For experience teacheth us, that in one same act, that which is good in one time, is not in another, but rather hurt­full: and that which is convenient for some nations, is not good for others; and so of other circumstances. They then which deale in the affaires of publicke estate, had need to know not onely the Maximes and rules of the Politicke Art; but also they must have a wise, quicke, and sharpe wit and iudgement, rightly and discreetly to ponder and weigh the cir­cumstances and accidents of every affaire, prudently to apply them to the rules and Ma­ximes, yea, sometimes to force and bend them to serve to the present affaire. But this sci­ence and habit of knowing well to weigh and examine the accidents and circumstances B of affaires, and then to be able handsomely to apply unto them, their rules and principles, is a science singular and excellent, but rare and not given to many persons: For of necess [...] he that will come to this science (at the least in any perfection to be able to mannage and handle weightie affaires) had need first, to bee endowed with a good and perfect naturall iudgement: and secondly, he must be wise, temperate, and quiet, without any passion or af­fection, but all to publicke good and utilitie: and thirdly, hee must bee conversed and ex­perimented in many and sundry affaires: These he cannot have and obtaine, unlesse hee himselfe have handled or seene them handled, or els by great and attentive reading of choise hystories, he have brought his iudgement to bee very stayed and well exeecised in such affaires. C

We must not then thinke, that all sorts of people are fit to deale with affaires of pub­licke The scope of the Au­thor. estate; nor that every one which speaketh and writeth thereof, can say that which be­longeth thereunto. But it may be, some will enqu [...]re if I dare presume so much of my selfe, as to take upon me effectually to handle this matter. Hereunto I answer, that nothing lesse and that it is not properly my purpose wherunto I tend, or for which cause I enterprise this Worke: But my intent and purpose is onely to shew, That Nicholas Machiavell, not long agoe a Secretarie of the Florentine commonweale (which is now a Dutchie) understood nothing or little in this Politicke science whereof we speake: and that he hath taken Ma­ximes and rules altogether wicked, and hath builded upon them, not a Politicke, but a Ty­rannicall science. Behold here then the end and scope which I have proposed unto my self, D that is, to confute the doctrine of Machiavell; & not exactly to handle the Politick science; although I hope to touch some good points thereof in some places, when occasion shall offer it selfe. Vnto my aforesaid purpose I hope to come (by the helpe of God) with so prosperous a good wind and full sailes, as all they which reade my writings, shall give their iudge­ment, and acknowledge, that Machiavell was altogether ignorant in that science, & that his scope and intent in his writings, is nothing els, but to frame a very true and perfect tyrannie. Machiavell also never had parts requisit to know that science. For, as for ex­pertence in managing of affaires, he could have none; since during his time hee saw no­thing but the brabblings and contentions of certaine Potentates of Italie, and certaine practises and policies of some cittizens of Florence. Neither had hee any or very little E knowledge in hystories, as shal be more particularly shewed in many places of our discourse; where (God ayding) we will marke the plaine, and (as it were) palpable faults & ignoran­ces which he hath committed in those few hystories, which it pleaseth him sometimes by the way to touch: which also most commonly he alledgeth to evill purpose, and many times falsely. As for a firme and sound iudgement, Machiavell also wanted, as is plainely seene by his absurd and foolish reasons, wherewith for the most part he confirmes his propositi­ons [Page] and Maximes which he sets downe: only he hath a certaine subtiltie (such as it is) F to give colour unto his moct wicked and damnable doctrines. But when a man comes something nigh to examine his subtilties, then it truth it is discovered to be but a beast­ly vanitie and madnesse, yea, full of extreame wickednesse. I doubt not, but many Cour­tiers, which deale in matters of Estate, & others of their humor, will find it very strange, that I should speake in this sort of their great Doctor Machiavell; whose bookes rightly may bee called, The French Courtiers Alcoran, they have them in so great estimation; imitating and observing his principles and Maximes, no more nor lesse than the Turkes doe the Alcoran of their great Prophet Mahomet. But yet I beseech them not to be of­fended, that I speake in this manner of a man, whom I will plainely shew to be full of all wickednesse, impietie, and ignorance, and to suspend their iudgement, whether I say true G or no, untill they have wholly read these my discourses: For as soone as they have read th [...], I doe assure my selfe, that every man of perfect iudgement will say and determine, th [...]t I speake but too modestly of the vices and brutishnesse, found in this their great Doctor.

But to open and make easie the intelligence of that should here be handled, wee must Of Machia­vell and his writings. first search out, what that Machiavell was, and his writings. Machiavell then was in his time the Secretarie or common Notarie of the Common-weale of Florence, during the kingdome of Charles the eight, and Lewis the twelfth, kings of France; Alexander the sixt, and Iulius the eleventh, Popes of Rome; and of Henry the seventh, and Henry the eight, kings of England: in which time hee writ his bookes in the Italian language, H and published them about the first beginning of Francis the first, king of Fraunce, as may be gathered by his owne writings. Of his life and death I can say nothing, neither did I, or vouchsafed I once to enquire thereof: because his memorie deserved better to be buried in perpetuall oblivion, than to be renewed amongst men. Yet I may well say, that if his life were like his doctrine (as is to be presumed) there was never man in the world more contaminated and defiled with vices and wickednesse, than hee was. By the Praefaci he made unto his booke entituled De Principe, Of the Prince, it seemeth he was banished and chased from Florence: For he there complaineth unto his Magni­ficall Lawrence de Medicis (unto whom he dedicated his Worke) of that hee endured iniuriously and uniustly, as he said. And in certaine other places he reciteth, That one I while he remained in France, another time at Rome, and another while (not sent embas­sadour (for he would never have forgotten to have said that) but as it is to be presumed) as a fugitive and banished man. But howsoever it be, he dedicates the said booke unto the said Lawrence de Medicis, to teach him the reasons and meanes to invade and obtaine a principalitie: which booke for the most part containeth nothing but tyrannicall pre­cepts, as shall appeare in the prosecution and progresse of this Worke. But I know not if they de Medicis have made their profit and taken use of Machiavels precepts, contai­ned in his said booke: yet this appeares plainely, that they (since that time) occupied the principalitie of Florence, and changed that Aristocraticall free estate of that cittie, into a Dutchie, or rather into a manifest tyrannie, as will easily appeare unto them, K which are advertised and have seene how Florence is at this day governed and ruled. Besides this booke of a Prince or of a Principalitie, Machiavell hath also written three bookes, of discoursing upon the first Decade of Titus Livius, with (ilustrating the other booke of Principalitie) is instead of a Commentary thereunto. Through all which dis­courses hee disperseth heere and there a few words out of Titus Livius, neither rehearsing the whole deede, nor hystorie of the matter, for which hee fisheth these words, and apply­eth [Page] them preposterously, after his owne fantasie, for the most part forcing them to serve A to confirme some absurde and strange thing. Hee also mixeth heerewith examples of small and pettie Potentates of Italy, happening in his time, or a little before, which are not worth the recitall, but are lesse worthie to bee proposed for imitation: Yet heerein is hee to bee excused, in that hee knew no better, for if hee had known: better, I doubt not but would have brought them to light, to have adorned his writings, and to have made them more authentike and receiveable. But out of those two bookes, namely of Principalitie, and out of Machiavels discourses, I have extracted and gathered, that which is properly his owne, and have reduced and brought it to certaine Maximes, which I have distinguished into three parts, as may bee seene heereafter. And I have beene as it were constrained so to doe, that I might revocate and gather every matter to his certaine heade and place, B to the end, the better to examine them: For Machiavell hath not handled every matter in one same place, but a little heere, and a little there, enterlacing and mixing some good things amongst them, doing therin as poysoners doe, which never cast lumpes of porson up­on an heape, least it bee perceived, but doe most subtillie incorporate it as they can, with some other delicate and daintie morsells: For if I had followed the order that hee houlds in his bookes, I must needes have handled one same point many times, yea confusedly and not wholy: I have then drawne the greatest part of his doctrine and of his documents, into certaine propositions and Maximes, and withall added the reasons, wbereby he mun­taineth them: I have also set downe the places of his bookes, to leade them thereunto, which desire to try what fidelitie I have used, either in not attributing unto him any thing C that is not his owne, or in not forgetting any reason that may make for him: wherein so much there wanteth, that I feare that any man may impose upon mee, to have commit­ted some fault therein: that contrarie, in some places I have better cleared and lightened his talke, reasons and allegations, than they bee in his writings. And if any man say that▪ I doe wrong him, in setting downe the evill things contained in his bookes, without speak­ing of the good things, which are dispersedly mixed therewith, and might bring honour and grace unto him: I answere and will maintaine, that in all his writings, there is no­thing of any valew, that is his owne. Yet I confesse that there is some good places, drawne out of Titus Livius, or some other authors, but besides that they are not his, they are not by him handled fully, nor as they should. For as I have abovesaid, hee onely hath disper­sed D them amongst his workes, to serve, as with an honny sweet bait, to cover his porson. And therefore seeing that that which is good in his writings, is taken from other better authors, where wee may learne them, better for our purpose, and more whole and perfect than in Machiavell, wee have no cause to attribute honour vnto him, nor to thanke him, for that which is not his, and which wee possesse and retaine from a better shop than his. And as for his precepts concerning the militarie art, wherewith hee dealeth in his bookes, which seeme to bee new, and of his owne invention, I will say nothing but that men doe not now practise them, neither are they thought worthie of observation, by them which are well seene in that art, as wee may see in that which hee maintaineth, That a prince ought not to have in his service any strange soldiors, nor to have any fortresses against E enemies, but onely against his subiects, when hee is in feare of them. For the contrary heereof is ordinarily seene practised, and in truth it sheweth an exceeding great pride and rashnesse in Machiavell, that hee dare speake and write of the affaires of warre, and prescribe precepts and rules unto them which are of that profession, seeing hee had no­thing but by heare-say, and was himselfe but a simple Secrethrie or Towne-clarke, which is a trade as far different from the profession of warre, as an harquebush differs from a [Page] pen and inckhorne. Heerein it fals out to Machiavell, as it did once to the philosopher F Phormio, who one day reading in the Peripateti [...]e schoole of Greece, and seeing arrive & Ci [...]ero de O­rator. Plutarch in Anniball. enter thither Anniball of Carthage (who was brought thither by some of his friends, to heare the eloquence of the philosopher) he began to speake & dispute (with much babling) of the lawes of warre and the dutie of a good captaine, before this most famous captaine, which had forgotten more, than ever that proud philosopher knew or had learned. When hee had thus ended his lecture and goodly disputation, as Anniball went from the audi­torie, one of his friendes which brought him thither, demanded what hee thought of the philosophers eloquence and gallant speach? Hee said; Truely I have seene in my life ma­ny old dottards, but I never saw so great an one as this Phormio. So I doe not doubt but such as have knowledge in the militarie art, will give the like iudgement of Machiavell, G if they reade his writings, & will say according to the common proverbe, That he speaketh not like a clarke of armes. But I leave things touching this matter, unto them which have more knowledge therein than I: for it is not my purpose, any thing to touche that which Machiavell hath handled of the militarie art, nor such precepts as concerne the leading of an army.

By this which wee have before spoken, That Machiavell was, during the raigne of Charles the eight, and Lewis the twelfth, kings of France, and attained the beginning of At what time, and wherefore Machiavell was recei­ved into France. the raigne of Francis the first: It followeth that there hath not beene past fiftie or three-score yeeres since his writings came to light; whereupon some may mervaile, why hee was not spoken of at all in France, during the raigne of king Henry the second, and that after H them the name of Machiavell, did but beginne to bee knowne on this side the moun­taines, and his writings into some reputation. The answere heereunto, is not very obscure to such as know how the affaires of France have beene governed, since the decease of king Henry the second of happie memorie. For during his raigne, and before the kingdome was governed after the meere French manner, that is to say, following the traces and docu­ments of our French auncestors. But since, it hath governed by the rules of Machiavell the Florentine, as shall bee seene heereafter. Insomuch that since that time, untill this pre­sent, the name of Machiavell hath beene celebrated and esteemed, as of the wisest person of the world, and most cunning in the affaires of Estate, and his bookes held dearest and most precious, by our Italian and Italionized courtiers, as if they were the bookes of Sibil­la, I whereunto the Paynims had their recourse when they would deliberate upon any great affaire concerning the common wealth, or as the Turkes hould deare and precious their Mahumets Alcaron, as wee have said above.

And wee neede not bee abashed if they of Machiavells nation (which hould the prin­cipall estates in the government of France) have forsaken the ancient manner of our French ancestors government, to introduct and bring France in use, with a new forme of managing & ruling their countrie, taught by Machiavell. For on the one side every man esteemeth and priseth alwaies the manners, fashions, customes, & other things of his owne countrey more than them of an others. On the other side, Machiavell their great doctor, Cap. 3. De Princ. Discourse lib. 2. cap. 30. lib. 3. cap. 43. Machiavells slanders a­gainst the kings and the people of France. describes so well France and the goverment thereof in his time, blaming and reprehend­ing K the Frenchmens conduction of affaires of Estate, that it might easily persuade his disciples to change the manner of French government into the Italian. For Machiavell vaunteth, that being once at Nantes, and talking with the Cardinall of Amboise (which was a very wise man) in the time of king Lewis the twelfth, of publike & State affaires, hee plainly tould him, that the Frenchmen had no knowledge in affaires of Estate. And in many places speaking of French causes, hee reprehendeth the government of our [Page] abovenamed kings, Charles the eight, and Lewis the twelfth; yea hee hath beene so im­pudent, A speaking of that good king Lewis, & rebuking him for giving succours unto Pope Alexander the sixt, that hee gives him the plaine lie, saying hee belyes himselfe, having passed Italie at the Venetians request, & yet succoured the Pope against his intention: And in other places hee calls our kings, Tributaries of the Suisses, and of the English men. And often when hee speaketh of the Frenchmen, hee calleth them Barbarous, and saith, they are full of covetousnesse and disloyaltie. So also hee taxeth the Almaignes of the same vi­ces. Now I beseech you, is it not good reason, to make so great account of Machiavell in France? who so doth defame & reproove the honour of our good kings, & of all our whole nation, calling them Ignorant of the affaires of Estate, Barbarous, Covetous, Disloyall: But all this might bee borne withall, and passed away in silence, if there were not another B evill. But when we see that Machiavell by his doctrine and documents, hath changed the good and ancient government of France, into a kind of Florentine government, where­upon we see with our eies, the totall ruine of all France: It infallibly followeth (if God by his grace doe not remedie it soone) that now it should be time, if ever, to lay hand to the work, to remit and bring France againe, unto the government of our ancestors.

Hereupon I humbly pray the Princes and great lords of France, to consider what is their duties in this case. Seemeth it (most Ilustrious Lords) seeing at this time poore France (which is your countrey and mother) so desolate and torne in sunder by stran­gers, that you ought to suffer it to be lost and ruinated? Ought you to permit them to sowe Atheisme and Impietie in your countrey, and to set up schooles thereof? Seeing C your France hath alwaies been so Zealous in the Christian Religion, as our ancient kings by their pietie and iustice, have obtained that so honourable a title and name of Most Christian? Thinke you, that God hath caused you, to be borne into this world, to help to rui­nate your countrie, or coldly to stand still and suffer your mother to be contaminated and defiled, with the contempt of God, with perfidie, with sodomie, tyrannie, crueltie, thefts, strange usuries, and other detestable vices, which strangers sowe heere: But rather con­trarie, God hath given you life, power, and authoritie, to take away such infamies and cor­ruptions, and if you do it not, you must make account for it, & you can looke for but a gree­vous & iust punishment. If it be true, as the Civilian lawiers say, That he is a murderer, and culpable of death, which suffereth to die with hunger the person unto whom he oweth D nourishment; And shall not you be culpable before God, of so many massacres, murders, and desolations of your poore France, if you give it not succours, seeing you have the meanes, and that you are obliged thereunto by right of nature? Shall you not be condem­ned and attainted of impietie, Athisme, and tyrannie, if you drive not out of France, Ma­chiavell, and his government?

Heere if any man will inquire, how it appeareth, that France is at this day▪ governed by the doctrine of Machiavell, the resolution heereof is easie and cleere. For the effects which France go­verned by the doctrine of Machia­vell. we see with our eies, and the provisions and executions of the affaires, which are put in practise, may easily bring us to the causes and Maximes, as we have abovesaid: which is one way to know things, by ascending from effects and consequences, to the knowledge of E causes & Maximes. And whosoever also shall reade the Maximes of Machiavell, which we shall handle heereafter, and discend from thence into the particularities of the French government, hee shall see that the precepts and Maximes of Machiavell, are for the most part, at this day practised and put in effect and execution, from point to point: Insomuch that by both the two wayes, from the Maximes to the effects, and from the effects to the Maximes, men may clearely know, that France is at this day governed by the doctrine of [Page] Machiavell. For are they not Machiavelists, Italians or Italianized, which doe han­dle F and deale with the seales of the kindgome of France? Is it not they also, which draw out and stampe Edicts? Which dispatch all things within and without the realme? Which hould the goodliest governments and fermes belonging unto the Crowne? Tea, if a man will at this day obtaine or get any thing in the Court, for to have a good and quicke dispatch thereof, hee must learne to speake the Messereske language, because these Messers will most willingly heare them in their owne tongue; and they under­stand not the French, no not the tearmes of iustice and Royall ordinances. Whereupon every man may coniecture and imagine how they can well observe or cause to be obser­ved the lawes of France, the tearmes whereof they understand not. Moreover, plains ynough it is, That within these fifteene yeares, Machiavels books were as familiar and G ordinarie in the hands of the Courtiers, as the Breviaries are in the hands of Curates of parishes.

And as for the diversitie of auncient government (which was ruled in follow­ing the traces, fashions, and customes of our auncestors) from the moderne and present government, which is founded upon the doctrine of Machiavell, it is easily and ap­parently seene by the fruites and effects which doth proceed therefrom. For by the an­cient French government, the kingdome was maintained and governed in peace and tranquilitie under the observation of auncient lawes, without any domesticke or civile warre, flourishing and enioyning a free trafficke: and subiects were maintained in the possessing and enioying of their goods, estates, franchises, and liberties. But now by the H Italian government of this time, the good and auncient lawes of the realme are abo­lished and suppressed; cruell warres and dissentions are maintained in France; peace alwayes broken; the people destroyed and eaten, and trafficke decayed; subiects are de­prived of their auncient liberties and franchises, yea, and brought into such confusion and disorder, that none knowes well what is his owne, and what is not; but one plough­eth and soweth, and another moweth and reapeth the same. And although this be so true and manifest, that it shall not bee needfull to shew more amply, that the manner of our auncestors government was otherwise, and better than the moderne, which at this present is in use; yet for all that, I pretend hereafter upon every Maxime, clearely to demonstrate and by good examples, that our auncient Frenchmen guided and governed I themselves by good reason and wisedome, cleane contrarie from the way of Machiavels precepts.

Yet I meane not to authorise my sayings by the allegation of examples of small po­tentates Frō whence these dis­courses are taken. and tyrannizers borne in one night like toad-stooles (as Machiavell dooth) but by the allegations of gallant and notable examples of our kings of France, confir­med and fortified, yea by other examples of good and auncient emperours, princes, and Romane captaines, and of the Senat of Rome. For I have chosen those two Monarchies, the Romane and the French, as the fairest and most excellent, from whence to draw true and good examples which are worthie for a prince to imitate, borrowing but few from other precedent Monarchies, as Medes, Assyrians, and Grecians, as lesse known K unto us, concerning the management and governement of their affaires, as too farre from our time, and from our manners and customes. I have lastly chosen the best and most authenticke Hystoriographers, and especially, them which have written those things which were and fell out in their owne time, and of those affaires, the most part of which, they were spectators and actors. Of this sort and order of mine owne coun­trey Hystoriographers, were Froissart, Monstrelet, de Comines, du Bellay: and of [Page] Romanes, Salustius, Tacitus, Suetonius, Dion, Herodian, Lamptidius, Capitoli­nus, A Iosephus, and certaine, which shall be alledged hereafter in their places. I also have drawne out some part of my allegations out of our Annales of France, out of Paulus Aemylius, Thucidides, Xenophon, and many other authours, all which are both authenticke and approoved, and that also, by prescript of auncient time and long continuance have gained that praise and reputation, to bee good witnesses, and that without reproch or diffamation. And for as much as Machiavell dare say, That the Frenchmen have no understanding or knowledge in matters or causes of Estate, I hope it shall appeare cleane contrarie, not onely by the good government which I shall shew to have been kept and observed by our auncestors in publicke causes, but also by the onely places and examples which I shall bring foorth and alledge out of M. Phi­lip B de Comines, Knight and Chamberlaine of king Lewis the eleventh: who lived even in Machiavels time, who also understood better how the affaires of a kingdome or Commonwealth should be ruled or governed, than ever Machiavell knew how to guide and rule a simple towne. Yet I cannot but confesse, that for the governing and guiding of a tyrannous Estate, Machiavell hath more cunning, than any other of whom I have read; hee so well knewe all the points and precepts which were meete and convenient for the establishing of it, as hereafter shall bee seene in the handling of his Maximes.

Moreover, if in certaine places where the matter doth require it, I speake a little Answers to the slanders of Machia­vell. too hardly of Machiavels Italian nation, I hope, that the good men of that countrey C cannot finde it evill; as well because Machiavell gives mee iust occasion, having villa­nously and opprobriously slaundered in many sorts our French nation, but also for that I intend not any thing to blame or reproove the good Italian people. And I will not denie, but that amongst the Italian and Florentine nation, there are diverse vertu­ous people, which are nothing lesse than meere Machiavelists, and that detest and ab­horre his wicked doctrine: For there is not so bad a ground, which amongst diverse and sundrie evill plants, bringeth not out some good. Yet will I give a particular praise and commendation unto such Italians as bee vertuous, which better appertai­neth unto them, than unto the vertuous and goodly men of other nations: namely, that as precious stones and some other drougs and spices are esteemed to be most singular, D as they are most rare: so the good and vertuous Italians are so much the more to be praised and commended, because they are rare, and for that it is no triviall and com­mon thing in Italie to be a vertuous and good man. There is also another point which excuseth mee, that is, That the force of the truth hath drawne and expressed this con­fession of Machiavell, even that hee sayth, That there is no nation or people in Chri­stendome, that is more vicious and corrupted than the Italian nation; and that there is no province nor kingdome, where there is lesse care of God and of all Religion, than in Italie. Although as to this last point of Religion, Machiavell (which in all his bookes sheweth himselfe a very Atheist, and a contemner of all pietie and godlinesse) meant not to taxe nor blame them of his nation, of impietie nor of Atheisme, but onely E hereof, that they are not like the Paynims, which so scrupulously observe their supersti­tions and ceremonies, as wee shall more at large set downe in the second part of this Discourse.

But from whence comes this impudencie unto Machiavell, to taxe and blame the Frenchmen of disloyaltie and perfidie, seeing, that hee himselfe also teacheth, That a Prince ought not to keepe and hould his faith, but for his profit and commoditie; and [Page] that the observation of faith is pernitious and hurtfull. I will not denie, but that at F this present time, many Italianized Frenchmen are disloyall and faith-breakers, ha­ving so learned by Machiavels doctrine: but I denie, that in the time of Machiavell, (during the reignes and governement of Charles the eight, Lewis the twelfth, and Francis the first, or before or long time after) the French nation was contaminated with that vice: as yet there are many good and naturall Frenchmen (thankes bee to God) which detest all perfidie and disloyaltie, and are in no way affected to those ex­ploits, which the Italians and Italianized doe in France; but rather doe sobbe and sigh in their hearts, for to see the French nation to be diffamed with that infamous and abhominable vice, detested and hated amongst all countries and nations. And I hope also, that the good and loyall Frenchmen will endevour themselves to reco­ver G the good renowne and reputation of the French nation, which some degenerated and Italianized, have defiled and polluted. But wherefore doth Machiavell so diffame and disgrace the French nation for covetousnesse? I doe much merveile at it: For untill this present time, the Frenchmen have alwayes had this reputation, to bee Li­berall, Courteous, and readie to doe any pleasure even unto straungers, and such as are unknowne unto them. And would to God, that the French nation had never been of that nature and condition, to doe well unto straungers, without first knowing and trying their behaviours and manner of life: we should not then see France to be go­verned and ruled by strangers, as it is: We should not feele the calamities and troubles of civile warres and dissentions, which they doe enterprise there, to maintaine their H greatnesse and magnitude, and to fish in troubled water: The treasures of France should not bee so exhausted and drawne out, by their rapines and most insatiable a­varice, as they are. What countrey or nation is there in the world, that feelcth or can iustly complaine of the covetousnesse of Frenchmen? Or rather, what nation is there, which hath not felt of the liberalitie of the kingdome of France. But contra­riwise, wee see with the eye and touch with the finger the covetousnesse and avarice of the Italians, which doe undermine and ruinate us, yea, which also doe sucke out all our substance and wealth, and leaves us nothing at all for our selves. Some of them are Publicanes or Farmers of the kings revenewes or Farme-rents: Some, Farmers of the customes and fraights of marchandizes and carriages: Some, Farmers of yearely I Tributes and Subsidies: and some, of the Princes private rents, yea, of all publicke and common profites belonging unto the French king, rating them even at what price they will: So that by that meanes, infinite coine comes into their hands, but there is but little which returneth againe to the publicke or common good of the Prince and countrey. Others obtaine great Estates, Offices, and Benefices, by the meanes where­of, all the treasure and money of the kingdome of France fals into the hands of stran­gers. And those Italians, which have no meanes or occasions thus to deale with the publicke affaires of the Commonwealth, doe hould and keepe bankes in good townes, where they exercise most exorbitant and unmeasurable usuries, by the meanes where­of, they doe wholly eat and consume poore France, and bring it unto confusion. And K although that in Machiavels time, France was not fallen into that extreame evill and great calamitie, as it is now at this present; yet since that time have wee suffici­ently felt the covetousnesse of the Italians, in the warres which our kings of France have made in Italie and Piedmont. For the great store of treasure and money that must needes have beene sent beyond the Alpes, for to satisfie the insatiable and greedie lusts of the Italians, was the cause oftentimes of encreasing and raising imposts and [Page] tallages upon the people, which by little and little did rise so high, that they exceeded A and doe exceede many times more than halfe the revenewe of the poore Plebeian, or common sort of people. But this Italian covetousnesse, which the Italians did exercise and use in the kingdome of France at that time, by their dealings for to draw our trea­sure and money into their owne countrey, was but honny, in respect of that which they have exercised, and doe still exercise more and more, since that they have passed on this side the Alpes, and that they came to dominiere and pearch all over the country of France, and to hould and possesse Offices, Benefices, Fermes, Customes, Revenewes, and Bankes, as is heeretofore said. And therefore it is clearely and evidently seene, that it is (as I may say) against the haire, that Machiavell and the other Italians dooth taxe the Frenchmen of Covetousnesse and Avarice. Vnlesse a man will say, that B the Frenchmen are much to bee blamed and reprehended for Passive Avarice, which is in them, that is to say, which they suffer and endure of the Italians, who by their Active Covetousnesse (which they doe practise and put in action amongst us) doe clip the wooll on the backe, and sucke our blood and substance, as men do with sheepe. And in this sence to take it (as wee should) it is certaine and assured, that Machi­avell blaming us of Passive Covetousnesse, which we do suffer, sheweth us breefely, that wee are beastes, which will suffer our selves so to bee bereaved and weakened of our wooll and our blood (with patience) by strangers. For it may well one day come to passe, that they may bee made to disgorge their booties and rapines, and that their great heapes of money, gotten by extortions in France, may turne them unto damage: C For as the Poet Sophocles sayth:

Men must not seeke, nor love, of all things to get gaine,
For hee that draweth gaine out of that which is nought,
Before hee profit gets, shall sooner losse sustaine:
For evill gotten goods are often dearely bought.

And whereas Machiavell taxeth and chargeth the Almaignes with Covetous­nesse D and perfidie, heerein may be seene, what an impudent and most wicked slan­derer hee is: For all men may plainely see, that (neither in their owne countrie, nor in the townes of France, where they dwell for their commerce and trafficke) they practise no great and execrable usuries, as the Italians doe, but content themselves with a meane and reasonable profite for their money; as of five or eight at the most, for the loane and use of a hundreth: Whereas the Italians doe often returne their money with the gaine of fiftie, yea often of an hundreth, for an hundreth. And as for Mar­chandize and traffique, it is well knowne, that no other nation is more plaine, faith­full, sincere and loyall than they are, in their bargaines and trafficke: For they doe not refresh, pollish, and decke up their wares, nor doe change them and sell one for ano­ther; E they set not a price of their marchandize more than it is worth, but at the first word they aske, what at the last they will have, or not sell it, without seeking any un­measurable or extraordinarie profit, upon them which know not what the marchandize is worth. And as for perfidie, deceit, and treason, the Almaignes have them in so great execration and detestation, that they thinke, there neither is nor can bee any greater vice or sinne than they are. Yea after a man once hath forfeated and fai­led [Page] in his Faith, contract, and promise, although but in small things and of no great F reckoning or value, they will never afterward esteeme or account him a good or honest man: So great (I say) is their detestation of all kinde of deceit and false dealing. But a man needs not mervaile, that Machiavell dare so impudentlie lye upon the Al­maignes, for hee hath brought forth more strange things than this slaunder, as wee shall shew hereafter, both to the good of all others that shall reade his writings, and to the manifest and plaine laying open of him in his true and perfect colours: For the effecting whereof, let us then now enter into the matter. G

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THE FIRST PART, ENTREA­ting what Counsell a Prince should use.

1. Maxime.

‘A Princes good Councell ought to proceed from his owne wisedome: otherwise, he cannot be well counselled.’

IT is a Maxime and generall rule (sayth Machiavell) that good counsell ought to proceed from the vvisdome of the C Prince himselfe: and not contrarie, that the Princes vvise­dome should proceed from good Counsell. For if the Prince bee not vvise of himselfe, hee cannot bee vvell counselled. For as much as if hee bee counselled by one alone in the administration of his af­faires, hardly shall hee find a man of requisit honestie and sufficien­cie vvell to counsell him: and although hee should find one of such qualitie, there were danger that hee would take away his estate: For, to dominier and reigne, there is no honestie or vertue that can keepe in the ambition of men. And if an unwise Prince take counsell of D many, hee must euer make his account to haue discordant and con­tentious counsels and opinions, vvhich hee can never accord nor reconcile; in the meane vvhile, every one of his Counsellers vvill seeke his particular profit, vvithout that the Prince can know, or re­medie it.

AT the first shew this Maxime seemeth to haue some appearance of truth: but when it shall be well examined, a man shall E find it not only nothing true, but also that it is pernitious and of wicked consequence. I am well contented to presuppose, that it is very true and certaine, That there cannot come a bet­ter and Of a wise Prince of himselfe. more profitable thing to a people and Commonweale, than to haue a Prince wise of himselfe: therefore, said Plato, That men may call that an happie Commonweale, when either the Prince that rai­neth there, can play the Philosopher, or els when a Philosopher commeth to raigne [Page 2] there: that is to say, in one word, when the Prince is of himselfe wise and prudent. F For in old time, that name (Philosopher) was taken for a person full of wisedome and science, not for a dreaming unsociable man, as he is commonly taken at this day. Of old, that name of Philosopher was attributed for a title of great honour unto the Emperour Marcus Antonius, who in truth was a good and a wise Prince. But to veri­fie that which I say, it is not needful to alledge many reasons: for it is evident inough, That the felicitie of a publick estate, lieth wholly in well commanding, & well obey­ing; whereupon resulteth and ariseth an harmonie and concordance so melodious and excellent, that as well he that commandeth, as he that obeieth, do both receive contentment, pleasure, and utilitie. But to obey well, dependeth wholly of well com­manding, and it cannot be without it. So, well commanding dependeth of the pru­dence G and wisdome of him that commandeth. Therefore the Emperour Seuerus be­ing Spartianus in Seuero. in warres, and his sonne Bassianus with him, and being caried in a Litter (because he had the Gout) as he saw his soldiors discontented and mutinous, and would needs have Bassianus his sonne, their Cheefetaine; he caused all the Army, but especially his Colonels, Captaines, and Corporals to be called, and to assemble in one place: and after having made unto them some Remonstrance and Oration, hee caused straight to be executed to death all the heads of that mutinie. After, he spoke thus to all the Armie, ‘Now know ye, that it is the head and not the feet which commandeth you. And indeed and truth, the good commanding proceeds from the prudence and wisdome of him that commandeth:’ which remaineth and hath his being not in the H feet nor armes, but in a brave mind, wel staied and governed, which is aided and hel­ped with a good naturall towardnesse, a mature and ripe age, and experience. And the Prince which can well command, shall also vndoubtedly be well obeyed. For a prudent commaundement draweth after it withall, an obedience: because a wise Prince will alwayes advise to found his commandements in Reason and Iustice, and to the publicke utilitie, not to his owne pleasure; by which meanes they that are to obey, shall as it were be constrained by the force of reason and equitie, and drawne also by the sweetnesse of the profit, to yeeld obedience. But if some by these meanes cannot be induced to obey (as there are alwayes some amongst many) they will be brought thereunto either by the example of such as let themselves be overcome I with reason and publicke utilitie, or els by punishment, which is in the Princes hand. He that will shew this by pluralitie of examples, That prudent Princes haue alwayes been well obeyed, and that their kingdomes and countries haue been happy, and full of all prosperitie; should never haue done: but I will content my selfe to al­ledge only two. Salomon was a King most wise, and a great Philosopher: for he as­ked wisdome of God, and he gaue it him in such abundance, that besides that he was 1. Kings. 4. 10. 1. Chron 9. ignorant of nothing which a Prince should know, well to governe his subjects; yet knew he the natures of Plants and living creatures, and was so cunning in all kind of Philosophie, that his knowledge was admired through the world. This his pru­dence and wisdome, made him so respected of all the great Kings, his neighbours, K that they esteemed themselues happie that they could doe him pleasure, and might have his amitie: By this meanes hee maintained his kingdome in so high and hap­pie a peace, that in his time, his subjects made no more account of silver than of stones, they had such store. And as for himselfe, he held so magnificall an estate, that we read not of any King or Emperor that did the like.

Charles the wise, king of France, comming to the Crowne, found the kingdome Frossard, lib. 1. cap. 132. [Page 3] in great confusion and calamitie: For all Guienne, part of Normandie, & Picardie, A were occupied by the Englishmen: he saw he had K. Edward of England (the third of that name) his adversarie, who was one of the most happie and most valiant prin­ces that ever was in England; and who certain yeares before had obtained two great victories in Fraunce, the one, at the journey of Crecy, against K. Philip de Valoys, where France lost eleuen Princes, twelue hundred Gentlemen, Knights, and thirtie thousand other people of warre; the other victorie was at the journey of Poitiers, which also the said K. Edward gained, by the conduction of the Prince of Wales his sonne, and lieutenant Generall, against Iohn King of Fraunce, who was there taken prisoner, with a son of his called Philip, after Duke of Bourgogne, and many other Princes and great Lords: all which were conducted into England: there was made B there a great discomfiture of people. By these two battailes lost in Fraunce the one after the other, in a small time, the kingdome was so debilitated of his forces and goods, as it could not stand: yet for a further heape of mischeefes, at Paris, and in many other places of the realme, at the same time arose there many broiles and ci­vile dissentions. But that good King, Charles le Sage, was so wise and prudent in the conduction and government of the affaires of the realme, as well in the time that he was Dolphin and Regent of France (his Father being prisoner) as after when he was king, that by little and little hee laid to sleepe all civile stirres and discords: after hee did so much, that he recovered upon the Englishmen almost all which they occupi­ed: and although he was not so brave a warriour as his father king Iohn, nor as his C grandfather King Philip, yet was he wiser and better advised in his deliberations, not hazarding his affaires as they did (fearing to be reputed cowards) nor did any thing rashly, without due consideration. Hee tooke not arms in hand, but he knew well how and when to employ them to his good. Insomuch, that K. Edward of England seeing the wisdome of that king made his Armes rebound and become dull, and his victories and conquests to be lost and annihilated: ‘Truly (said he) I neuer knew king that lesse useth Armes, yet troubleth me so much; he is all the day enditing let­ters, and hurteth me more with his missives, than ever did his Father or Grandfather with their great forces and Armes.’ Behold the witnesse which king Edward gave of the wisdome of his enemie king Charles: which was yet of so great efficacie, that he D brought his kingdome into a good peace, by the meanes wherof his people became rich and wealthie, where before they were as poore and miserable. And not only the people became rich, but the king also himselfe heaped up great treasures, which hee left to his sonne after him: insomuch, that he was not onely surnamed the Wife, but the Rich also. I could to this purpose adde here many other examples, but in a thing so cleare, the example of these two kings, Salomon and Charles, shall suffice: which two for their great wisdome, have acquired the name of Wife: they both were rich in great treasures, both of them maintained their subjects in peace, both left their kingdomes opulent and abundant, and placed the estates of their Commonwealths in great felicitie. E

It is a thing then plaine & confessed, That it is an exceeding great good to a peo­ple, Prudence is more requi­sit in a Prin­ces Coun­sell, than in himselfe. when they have a Prince that is wise of himselfe: but thereupon to inferre and say (as Machiavell doth) That the government of Prince ought to depend vpon his owne proper wisdome, and that he cannot be well counselled but by himselfe; is evill concluded, and such a conclusion is false, and of pernitious consequence. For a Prince, how prudent soever he be, ought not so much to esteeme of his owne wise­dome, [Page 4] as to despise the counsell of other wise men. Salomon despised them not, and F Charles the wise alwaies conferred of his affaires with the wise men of his Counsell. And so farre is it off, that the Prince ought to despise anothers Counsell, that even he ought to conform his opinion to that of the men of his Counsell, which are wise, and ought not stubbornely to resist their advise, but to follow it, and hold his owne for suspected: And therefore that wise and cunning Emperour Marcus Antonius, the Philosopher, being in his privie Counsell house (where was that great Lawyer Scaevola, Maetianus, Volusianus, & many other great persons, excellent in knowledge, and honestie) after having well debated with them the matters they handled, when sometimes he tooke in hand to sustaine opinions contrarie to theirs. Well (said he) masters, The thing then must be done according to your advise: ‘For it is much more G reasonable, that I alone follow the opinion of so good a number of my good and faithfull friends, as you are, than that so many wise men should follow the opinion of me alone.’ Vnto this opinion of the Emperor Antonius agreeth also the common Proverbe, That many eyes see clearer than one eye alone. Experience also teacheth vs, That things determined and resolved by many braines, are alwayes wiser, safer, & better ordered, than the resolutions of one alone. And we see also, that the ancient Dionis. Halic. lib. 2. Romanes, and all Commonweales, well governed, as well in times past, as at this day, have alwayes followed and observed that which by pluralitie of wise mens voi­ces was concluded & determined. And truly, so much the wiser a Prince is, so much the more will he suspect his owne opinion. For the same wisedome which is in him, H wil persuade him not to beleeve himselfe too much, and to have his own judgement for suspected in his owne case (as all publicke affaires may be said to be proper to the Prince) and to permit him to be governed by his Counsell. And contrarie, because there are no people more presumptuous, nor that thinke to know more, than they which know little; nor that thinkes to be more wise, than they that have no wisdome: if you learne a Prince that thinketh himselfe wise, this principle of Machiavell, That he ought to governe himselfe by his owne wisdome and Counsell, and that he can­not be better counselled than by himselfe; you shall streight find inconveniences: For then shal you see, that he will beleeve neither counsell nor advise, but that comes out of his owne head; and he will say to them that will give him any, That he vnder­stands I well his owne matters, and that he knoweth what he hath to doe: and so will bring his estate and affaires into confusion, and overthrow all upside downe. And from whence comes this evill government and disorder? Even from that goodly do­ctrine of Machiavell, which willeth, That a Prince should govern himselfe by his own wisedome; and that maintaineth, That a prince cannot be well counselled, but by his owne wisedome. The consequence then of this Maxime, is not small, seeing the pub­licke state of a countrey may stagger and be overthrowne thereby. Better then it is, that contrarie, the Prince hold this resolution, To govern himselfe by good coun­sell, and beleeve it, and have in suspition his owne wisedome. For if the Prince bee wise, and his opinion found to be founded upon Reason, they of his Counsell will K easily fall to his advise: seeing also, that oftentimes they applaud and like too well the Princes opinions, scant reasonable. And wher. it happeneth, that they take the hardinesse to contradict the Princes opinion, he ought euen then thereby to per­suade himselfe, that he strayeth farre from good reason, and in that case he ought to hold his judgement for suspected. And contrarie, if the Prince be not wise at all (for it is not incompatible nor inconvenient, to be a Prince and to be vnwise withall) yet [Page 5] having this resolution to governe himselfe by Counsell, his affaires will carry them­selves A better, than being governed by the head. But in all cases I presuppose that the Princes Counsell is compounded of good and capable men, which have ever be­fore their eyes the service and utilitie of their Prince, which is no other thing but the Commonweale. For otherwise, if they be wicked, the Princes affaires cannot but goe evill, whether the Prince be wise or unwise. For that being wise, yet can hee not see nor know all, but onely considereth those things which passe by the relation of his Counsellors. And if they of his Counsell bee wicked, they may alwayes so handle matters, that he shall not be advertised but of such things as it please them, as soone false as true, to cause him to incline to their pleasure and will. If the Prince be unwise, yet much better they of his Counsell (if they be wicked) may handle him B at their devotion, and in all sorts abuse him.

And therefore have the Elders held this Maxime (cleane contrary to that of Ma­chiavel) That it is more expedient to the Commonweale, that the Prince be wicked and his Counsell good, than that the Prince be good, and his Counsellors wicked. But for because the Hystoriographer Lampridius hath touched that point very clearely and breefely, I will here recite and translate his owne words: he saith then, in the life of the Emperour Alexander Severus, addressing his speech vnto the Em­perour Constantine the Great, in this manner. ‘Thou accustomest (Constantine the Great) to demand, What was the cause that Alexander Severus, borne in Syria, hath been so excellent a Prince, seeing that even from the very Romane nation, and from C the other Provinces, there have proceeded and come men wicked, impure, cruell, contemptible, unjust, & given only to voluptuousnesse? I may first answer according to the common opinion of good men, That Nature (which is everywhere a Mother) may in all places & in al nations engender a good Prince: I may also say, That Alex­ander was a good Prince by feare, for that Heliogabalus his predecessor (which was a most wicked Prince) was massacred and slaine. And to touch the very truth, may it please thy pietie to remember that which thou hast read in the Historiographer Ma­rius Maximus, That the estate of the Commonwealth is better and more assured, wherein the Prince is wicked, than that wherein the Princes Counsellors are wicked. For one wicked man may be well corrected by many good men; but many wicked D men cannot be surmounted by one good man alone. Alexander had Counsellors, which were venerable and holy persons, not malitious, not theeves, not partiall, not cautelous, not consenting to evill, not enemies to good men, not voluptuous, not cruell, not deceivers of their Prince, not mockers nor abusers of him as a foole: but contrarie, persons honorable, continent, religious, loving their Prince, which would not mocke him, nor be mocked of him, which in their estate were no sellers, lyers, dissemblers, and which defrauded not their prince of his honor, but loved him. They entertained not Eunuchs and flatterers, which serving for newes-carriers, oftentimes report otherwise than is said unto them: and which hold their master shut up, pro­viding above all things, that he shall know nothing of his owne affaires. I know E (Constantine Emperor) that he brings himselfe into great danger, which talketh to a Prince, that is a servant and a slave unto such people: but thou which hast experi­ence of the great mischeefs that such pestilent flatterers bring, and how they deceive Princes, thou knowest how to debase and humble them, namely to force them only to deale with the affaires of the house, and not of the Commonweale. Above all, this is most memorable in Alexander, that hee would never receive any alone into [Page 6] his chamber, but the great master of his houshold, and the great Lawyer Vlpian: F neither gave he any man libertie to sell smoke, nor to slander or speake evill of him: especially after he had put to death Euxinus, who often had sold him as a sencelesse foole. There is more yet, that Alexander spared not his owne parents and friends when they deserved punishment, or at the least put them from him when they offen­ded, saying, That he loved better the Commonwealth, than his parents and friends. And that thou maiest know what people he had of his privie Counsell, these were they, Fabius Sabinus, the sonne of Sabinus, an excellent man, a second Cato in his time; Domitius Vlpianus, a learned man and a Lawyer; Elius Gordianus, father of that Gordianus, which was after Emperour, a man very excellent; Iulius Paulus, a great person in the Law; Claudius Venatus, a great and worthy Oratour; Pomponius, a very G cunning man in the civile Law; Alfenus, Africanus, Florentinus, Martianus, Calli­stratus, Hermogenianus, Venuleius, Trifonius, Melianus, Celsus, Proculus, Modesti­nus, all excellent Doctors of Law, and disciples of that great Lawyer Papinian: all which were great familiers, and very privat with Alexander. More also he had of his privie Counsell, Catilius Severus, his Parent, as learned as any; Aelius Severianus, a person above all others, of greatest sanctitie; Quintilius Marcellus, of whom there is not found in hystorie a better man. Alexander then having all those and many o­ther like of his privie Counsell, all which agreed to doe well, how could he then ei­ther doe or thinke evill? These Counsellors at the beginning were put from him out of credit, by evill Counsellors which abused Alexander, but afterward having wise­ly H driven them from him, which were worth nothing, he called again his other good Counsellors, and loved all well. And these were they which made Alexander a good Prince: as contrarie, wicked Counsellors have made many Romane Emperours as wicked as they.’ Behold then what Lampridius saith touching this question, Whe­ther it is better to have a wicked Prince, which hath good Counsellors, or a good Prince which hath evill Counsellors: & he resolveth that the Elders have held, That it is much better to have a wicked Prince, which hath good Counsellors: which is contrarie vnto the new opinion of Machiavell, who makes no account of a Princes good Counsellors, if so be it the Prince himselfe be good and prudent: who also saith, That the affaires of a Prince cannot be well conducted, vnlesse he guide them I himselfe by his owne wisedome. It is then very clearely seene, that his Maxime is false by the alledged reasons of Lampridius, namely, That many good Counsellors may well supplie the want of wisedome that is in a Prince, and moderat his unbride­led and undiscreet appetites; but a good Prince cannot correct so many evill Coun­sellors, which will feed their Prince with smoke and lies, and will hide from him such things as he ought to know for the Commonweale.

This may yet be better shewed by the examples of many Princes, which have ben Princes of little wise­dome have beene well governed by good Couns [...]ll. Capitol. in Go [...]d. Iun. of small wisedome and vertue, and yet notwithstanding have well ruled the Com­monwealth by the good and wise Counsell of prudent and loyall Counsellors, wher­with they were served: as did the Emperour Gordian the yong, who was created Em­perour K at eleven yeares of age, insomuch, that many judged the Empire to be falne in to a childish kingdome, and so into a weakenesse and a bad conduction. But it pro­ved otherwise: for this young Emperour Gordian espoused the daughter of a wise man, called Misitheus, whom he made the high Steward of his houshold, and gover­ned himselfe by his Counsell, in all his affaires, so that the Romane Empire was well ruled so long as Misitheus lived.

[Page 7] Likewise Ioas king of Israel, came to the Crowne a young child, of the age onely 2. Kings. 11. and 12. and 2. Chro. 23. A of seven yeares: but hee was governed by Ioiada his vncle, a very wise man: Inso­much, that whilest that good Counsellor lived, the kingdome was well and rightly administred.

Charles the sixt king of France, was but thirteene yeares old when hee came to the Crowne, & was of small vnderstanding: yet during his minoritie, the kingdome was well and wisely governed by his three uncles, the Dukes of Anjou, of Berry, and Bourgoigne. There was nothing in their government to be spoken against, but only that they were a little drawing unto themselves the kings treasure, all other af­faires were administred well and prudently. Yet true it is, that after the kings majori­tie, they yet entred into the government of the kingdome (because of a phrensie B that tooke the king, which endured more than twentie years) but then their govern­ment was corrupted by ambition, covetousnesse, a desire of vengeance, & envie: yet as I said, during the kings minoritie they did governe well.

The kings of France, Clotharie the fourth of that name, and Chilperic the second, Annales of France vp­on the year 716, & the three fol­lowing. were both Princes of small vnderstanding, and indeed had no wisdome to conduct the affaires of the realme: but they had for a Counsellor and Conductor of their af­faires, that valiant Lord Charles Martell, that during their reigne the realme was well ruled, yea, with many great and excellent victories.

In our time we know that the Emperour Charles the fift was left very young by his father and grandfather, in such sort, as during his minoritie hee could never have Du Bellay, lib. 1. de se Memoires. C knowne how to governe his affaires, which were great, and in great trouble in many places: His said father then, foreseeing at his death, that his sonne had need of a good overseer, which were a good man; ordained for that purpose, to governe him and his affaires, king Lewis the twelfth, praying him to accept that charge, knowing well the sinceritie and loyaltie of that good king, which for nothing would wound his consci­ence (as he did not) althogh he might, for therby he had offered him great occasions of enlarging his limits. The king then loyally to acquit himselfe of that charge, gave unto that young Prince for Governour, a good man, faithfull, and of good un­derstanding, called the Lord de Chieures: by the counsell of whom, and of certaine other good Counsellors, the affaires of that young Prince were much better mana­ged D (even in that low age) than ever they were in his fathers or grandfathers time. This good government in that base age, proceeding from good Counsell, gave so great a fame and reputation unto that yong Prince, that he was chosen Emperour at the age of 20 yeares.

The Emperour Domitian, besides he was not wise, he was wicked and exceeding cruell: yet he, during his raigne, had so good hap to encounter and light upon such Suetonius in Domit. cap. 3. 4. 8. 10. Governors and Magistrates for the Provinces of his Empire, being good and wise men, that whilest he raigned, the Romane Empire was well governed, and there was none but certaine particular persons of Rome, which felt the evill of his vices and crueltie. E

Charles the eight king of Fraunce, came to his Crowne at the age of thirteene yeares, and was a very good Prince, but of no great understanding nor wisedome: Annales of France upō the yeare 1484. yet the Estates that were assembled at Tours, gave him a good Counsell, which they did chuse of fit and capable persons; by which Counsell, the affaires of the kingdome were well governed during the kings minoritie, although there fell out some emoti­ons and stirres of some revolters.

[Page 8] I will not here repeat the example of the Emperour Alexander Severus, who ve­ry F young came to the Empire, and under whom the affaires of the Commonwealth were well governed, by the meanes of good Counsellors, as is abovesaid.

I may also here adde many other examples of our kings of Fraunce, which were not too spirituall, and yet governed well by their good Counsell. As also there were many Emperours of the Romane Empire, some ignorant and brutish, others volup­tuous and effeminate, others cruell, and knowing nothing but to handle yron. As were Philipus, Licinius, Dioclesianus, Maximianus, Carus, Carinus, Gallus, Constan­tius, Aurelianus, Galienus, Leon, Macrinus, Zeno, Iustintanus, and many others, which yet made very good Lawes, as wel for distributive justice, as for the pollicie of the Empire, as is seene by the Code of Iustinian; which lawes wee must needs attri­bute G to their wise and learned men, which were their Counsellors: for none of all them knew any thing, or little (except Macrinus) how to make good Lawes. Therfore I conclude this point against the Maxime of Machiavell, That a Prince may wel go­verne wisely the Commonweale by the good counsell of good and faithfull Coun­sellors, although he be evill provided of wisdome.

But here remaineth a difficultie, which is not small, How an unwise Prince may Of the ele­ction of good Coū ­sellors and Magistrats. provide good and loyall Counsellors, seeing that Princes that are wise and well ad­vised, are therein often deceived. And upon this point I confesse there is nothing harder nor of greater consequence to a Prince, than to guide himselfe well in the election of such persons, whereof he should compose his Counsell. For there are H great hypocrisies and dissimulations, and one seemes to be a good man, sincere, and continent, which shewes himselfe another man, when meanes comes in his hand to corrupt vertue for to make his particular profit thereof. And we see but too much by experience, that the old Proverbe is true, Honours change manners. You may see how the most gracious and courteous in all the world, the most affable and offici­ous to every one (that is possible) whilest they are in base degree; after they bee mounted into some high degree of honor & dignitie, they become rough & haugh­tie, & so much, that to whom before they shewed themselves facile and serviceable, they even seeme now not to know them, yea, which before were their privat friends and familiars: Such people have no good soules, but deserve that their fiercenesse I and pride should disarson and dispossesse them of that place unto which most com­monly their dissembled humilitie and courtesie hath advanced them. This vice is re­prehensible, not only in a Princes officers, but also in the Prince himselfe, who ought not to put pride and fiercenesse upon that head, whereupon the Crowne and Dia­deme standeth. For hereof is the king Agamemnon taxed and reprehended by Mene­laus his brother, in a Tragoedie of Euripides, where he sayth thus:

Most humble wast thou in times past, and kissed each mans hand,
Most humaine, gentle, affable, to none thy gates did stand
Shut up, to highest Honour thou (by such means) soughtst to rise: K
But now thou Honour hast supreme, why proov'st thou so unwise,
Another man straight to become, and change thy manners all?
Yea humane dutie even to friends, by thee doth not befall.
To good men that esteems good fame, this is not covenable,
Chamoelion like thy manners changed, thou to be so mutable.

[Page 9] This mutabilitie then, of manners which is seene in many natures of men, is the A cause that it is so hard for a Prince to know how to elect good men for his Counsel, and that in that point it is very uneasie to teach a Prince how to behave himselfe therein: yet I will a little discourse upon that point, how the Elders governed them­selves in election of Princes Counsellors, and then we will returne to Machiavell.

Vpon this I first find, that our auncient Frenchmen have observed three rules, which I thinke good enough. The first, that the princes of the bloud are alwayes of the kings Counsell: for although it may well come to passe, that some one of them is not the most resolute nor best garnished with parts requisite to know well to coun­sell and govern the affaires of the Commonwealth; yet seeing they have that honor to be princes of the bloud, they may not be excluded, unlesse it be for some great B fault and offence: For so there may arise (as many times hath been seene) great dis­contentments, troubles, and partialities, which often draweth after them civile wars and infinit evils. The other rule is, that the new king retaine alwayes in his service the old Counsellors of his predecessor, which governed well, especially such as have be­fore acquired the reputation, to be good, loyall, and sincere men. The third rule is, that the three estates provide good Counsellors for the king, during his minoritie, or if by accident he leese the use of his sences or understanding: as was practised in both cases during the raigne of Charles the sixt, Ie bien aime. Which aforesaid rules, as I hope [...]one can denie but they are good, and introducted with good reason by our ancestors, so I must needs confesse that they are not sufficient in all cases to pro­vide C good Counsellors for a Prince. For it may well happen, that a prince of ful age may have few or no princes of his [...]loud experienced in affaires: and that the other Counsellors which his predecessor left, shall either not be good men, or not capa­ble, or that they are dead, and therefore then he must needs come to an election of new Counsellors, by some other way than by these aforesaid rules.

And upon that point it seemeth unto me, that the manner of proceeding, which Lampri. in Alexandro. Alexander Severus the Emperour used to chuse as well his Counsellors as his Ma­gistrates, is very good, & meriteth well to be imitated and drawn into consequence. For first, he never provided any persons for an Office, in consideration of any favour of kinred or amitie, nor in recompence of any service, but onely in consideration of D the probitie and capacitie of the persons. But if any man were presented unto him, which was not of good reputation, as well in know [...]edge and experience, as in good life, although otherwise hee had done good services in some other charge, or that there had been good appearance that he might doe well, being of the house & race of wise and prudent people, yet he would not receive him. And the better to be in­formed of the reputation of persons, whereof he had profers by his wise friends, hee caused to be set up in common streets and great publicke places, where many wayes meet, certaine posts to fix bils upon them, whereupon was written certaine exhorta­tions unto the people, That if any man had any thing to say against such and such a man (which he named) wherefore they might not be received and admitted to such E and such an Office, that he should denounce it. And so made those commaunds by placards, to the end he might better discover & be advertised of the vertues & vices of persons. ‘For (said this Paynim Emperor) seeing the Christians use (well) this form, to renounce publickly in their assemblies the names of such as they will promote unto the order of Priesthood, why should not we use it also in the election of our Officers and Magistrates, into the hands of whom we commit the lives and goods of our sub­jects. [Page 10] Moreover, he never suffered Offices and estates of Magistrates, which had F power & authoritie over the people, to be sold; nor that any commerce whatsoever should be made of them: For (said he) necessarily, he that buyeth, selleth; and if I suffer that any man buy an Office, I cannot condemne him when he selleth: for it were a shame for me to punish him which selleth againe that which he buyeth.’ Be­sides all this, in the election of Counsellors and Magistrates, he did ever suspect such as fought for Offices, and held them for ambitious and dangerous people for the Commonweale. But they which he could know to be good men, and worthy of pub­licke charge, and never sought it, these were they which he esteemed most sufficient: and the more they excused themselves from accepting of Offices, so much the more were they constrained unto them. Insomuch, that one day there was one G (whereof there was good testimonie given unto him) unto whome hee determined the Office of Lieutenant Generall of Iustice in the towne of Rome: But the other excused himselfe the best he could, saying, He perceived not himselfe sufficient nor capable to exercise so great an estate. The more he excused himselfe, the more the Emperour Alexander constrained him, and commanded him to accept and exercise it, and that he would have it so, beeing contented with his sufficiencie. The other, which in no case would accept that estate, found some light occasion to get from the Emperours presence for that time, and so fled. When the Emperour knew hee was fled, he caused him to be searched diligently, & found him, caused him to be broght unto him, then he constrained him whether he would or no to accept that Office. H He had also a good grace in the election of the Senators of the Senat: for he chose not any, without demanding the advise of them which were already in that estate; and enquired of the maners, knowledge, and sufficiencie of him or them which were to be Senators. And when it came to passe, that any man by his opinion did bring any into an Office, that was not in all points sufficient, (as it often commeth to passe that they that favor a man, make his manners good, and his knowledge greater than it is) he thus punished them, to bring them to the lowest roume of all their compa­nie: which was a covenable and meet punishment: for he that by undue and un­lawfull meanes will advaunce another, meriteth well to bee put from the place himselfe. I

We find in our hystories of France, that our kings have sometimes imitated this manner of proceeding of the Emperour Alexander, in his manner of election of Counsellors and Magistrates: For by auncient ordinances which lately were fresh in the publicke Counsell of Estates of Orleance (but since evill observed,) Offices ought to be conferred upon such as were named to the king, by the other Officers and Magistrates, and by the Consuls & Presidents of Townes and Provinces, which were to make true report of the life, good manners, and sufficiencie of such as they named. As for the vent and selling of Offices, it seemeth that it hath been long time tollerated in Fraunce. For M. Philip de Comines in his Hystorie which hee writ of Comines, li. 1. cap. 12. the life of king Lewis the eleventh, saith, That alreadie in the time of that king (when K he had warre against the lords of the Commonweale) in the yeare 1464, the Peri­sians made a great trafficke and commerce of Offices, whereof they are more desi­rous than any others of all the French nation: For (sayth he) there are some which will give eight hundred skutes or crownes for an Office, that hath no wages nor sti­pend belonging unto it: and some will give for an Office that hath a stipend belon­ging unto it, more than fifteene yeares the stipend comes to. But it seemes unto me, [Page 11] that de Comines toucheth not the white, when he speakes of the cause why the Pari­sians A are so desirous of Offices. For the true cause seemeth to be, for that by the cu­stomes of Paris, a father cannot bestow upon one child more than upon another, be they daughters or sonnes, unlesse it be in Offices. And that therefore the Parisians, which desire to advantage any of his children above other (as commonly the father which hath many children, loves one more than another) are as it were constrained to buy Offices. And would to God that this custome were yet to invent, and that the Parisians had free dispensation of their goods, and that they had not brought in this villainous trafficke of Offices. But a strange thing it is, which Comines addeth, That even in the time of king Lewis the eleventh, the parliament of Paris maintai­ned, that such a commerce and trafficke was lawfull. But he speakes not of what Of­fices B the Court of Parliament tollerates that kind of trafficke. It is not credible, that at that time, Offices of judgement were sold; nor that the Court of Parliament approved such a commerce; but rather that they were Offices of Fines, Vshers, Ca­stle keepers, Sergeants, Notaries, Offices of Waters, and Forrests, and such like, whereof the sale was tollerable: but not of Offices of Presidents, Counsellors, Bai­liffes, Stewards, Lieutenants, and other Offices of judgement. For it is seene by Annales vp­on An. 1499. our Annales, that king Lewis the twelfth (who was called the Father of the people) to spare his people, and to pay the debts of king Charles the eight, his predecessor, and to helpe other great affaires which he had on his Arme for the recoverment of the Duchie of Millaine, he was the first king that began to sell Offices Royall, excepting C alwayes the Offices of judgement, which he touched not. This was a very good king, and did this to a good end, to comfort and help his poore people from tallages and borrowings: Who considered, that it was as much and more reasonable that hee should take silver for such Offices (which were not of judgement,) as privat persons did, upon whom they were freely bestowed; unto whom it was lawfull (as is said) by a sufferance alreadie inveterate of the said Parliament, to sell and trafficke them. But since, the fact of this good king hath been drawn into a consequence and an use; yea, the exception of Offices of judgement is cleane also taken away, in such sort, that now al Offices indifferently are venall, yea, to him that offereth most to the last pen­ny. And although we may say still, it is to the same end, namely to helpe the people, D yet it is evident, that that end is not sought nor followed. For by the contrarie, the people is eaten up even to the bones, by these buyers of Offices, which will needs draw out of them the mony of that they bought. And it seemeth according to the say­ing of the Emperor Alexander, that they have reason: for that which may be bought, may be sold. As for the manner of election of the said Emperour, whereby he pre­ferred to estates such as demaunded them not, before such as sought them, our kings have sometimes used that also: as king Charles le Sage, when he gave the Office of Constable to that generous and valiant Knight Bertrand de Guesclin. For de Guesclin Froisart, lib. 1. chap. 290. lib. 2. cap. 49. Annales vp­on An. 1402. excused himselfe the most that hee could in the world from accepting that estate, shewing him that he was a simple knight, & that the Office of Constable is so great, E that he that will acquite himselfe of that Office, ought rather to commaund great men, than them that were of low calling; and that he durst not enterprise so much, as to commaund the brethren, cousins, and nephewes of his Majestie. But the king replied unto him: M. Bertrand, by this meanes excuse not your selfe; for I have nei­ther Brother, Cousin, Nephew, Countie, nor Barron, in my kingdome, which shall not obey you with a good heart: and if any one doe otherwise, I will cause him to [Page 12] know that it displeaseth me: So that in the end de Guesclyn accepted the Office, as F constrained. After the death of this valiant Constable, king Charles the sixt, sonne of the said Charles le Sage, minding to give that Office to the Lord de Coucy, who was a brave and wise knight, and of a great house, and had performed great services unto the Crowne of France, but he refused it, saying, that he was not capable for an Of­fice of so great a burthen, and that M. Oliver de Clysson was more sufficient than he to exercise that Estate, for he was valiant, bold, wise, and wel beloved of the people of warre. M. Oliver made the like refuse, saying that the Lord de Coucy was much more worthie and capable than he. But after great strife thereabouts, in the end, Oliver was constrained to accept that Office, wherein he acquited himselfe well and like a wise and vertuous man. Likewise, after the death of this M. Lewis de Sancerre, Constable G of France, the king would needs give that Office to M. Charles de Albret, Counte de Dreux, but he refused it many times, untill he was compelled to accept it. Where is now that modestie, to refuse estates, & to deferre them unto his companion? Where is that time, that men esteemed not of honours, but such as were gotten by true ver­tue? Where is that happie world, when ambition was so banished from great men? Where are now those good, vertuous, and wise Princes, which gave no Estates and Offices, but to them which onely by vertue deserved them; and that could make so good choise of fit persons? Surely, we are come into the time of the Emperour Au­relian (when the Empire began alreadie to decay) wherein Offices were not for Men, but for Riches: and to the time of Caesar and Pompey (when the Commonweale was H altogether ruinated & changed into another Estate) in which time also, Offices were not given, but for ambition, wealth, and unto such as tooke part with such great men as sought to cary away the publick government. But I confesse, these examples which I have rehearsed, are but examples: but they may well ynough be Rules and Lawes, unlesse we scorne to imitate that which Alexander Severus, who never gave Offi­ces, as is said, to importunat ambitious men, which sought them, but to such as were modest, and desired them not; such as de Guesclyn, de Coucy, de Clisson, and de Albret: For they which accept them most hardly, are they which will acquite themselves of them most valiantly and wisely.

Now after I have touched the election of a good Councell and Magistrates, I Good Coū sell keepes a Prince in his estate. Plutarke in Phocion. I would a little speake of the necessitie and utilitie that commeth to a Prince, to have good and wise Counsellors. And upon this point, it seemeth unto me, that Plato and the other Philosophers have a very proper and fit comparison, when they compared the soveraigne authoritie of a Prince, to the course and motion of the Sunne, where­by he accomplisheth the naturall dayes; and the wisdome of Princes Counsellors, unto the motion and course of the Sunne, whereby he accomplisheth the yeare. For this diurnall motion, whereby the Sunne maketh an end of a naturall day from one morning to another, is admirable, swift, fearefull, and violent: and so is a soveraigne authoritie of it selfe, under which men tremble, and are dismaied with fear and trou­ble. But as we see, that the annuall motion of the Sunne, whereby he maketh an end K every yeare, opposeth it selfe against this violent and swift diurnall motion, yet not directly, but awrie, and as it were kissing and bending, drawing from the West to the East, by the oblique and crooked circle of the Zodiake, & by this means tempereth the rapacitie, violence, and swift diurnall motion, and by his pleasantnesse distingui­sheth the seasons of the Spring time, Summer, Autumne, and Winter, and nouri­sheth and maintaineth all living creatures, which otherwise cannot endure: even so [Page 13] the prudence and wisdome of Princes Counsellors, opposing themselves pleasantly A and with a good grace by reason and equitie, against that soveraigne power, which of it selfe is fierce, redoubtable, and fearfull, it entertaineth and maintaineth publicke causes and the Commonwealth in good estate, which otherwise could not continue. Examples are ordinarily seene in Princes that are destitute of good Counsell: For straight they abuse their soveraigne power and authoritie, and degenerate it into a Tyrannie, indiscreetly exercising violences, rapines, and injustice. And afterward men shall see it come to passe, that it cannot endure, but that they and their estate shall fall into ruine and confusion. For it is a true Maxime, That no violence can en­dure long.

Behold then a very great effect of good Counsell, that is, That it maintaineth the Good Coū ­sell makes the Prince honoured. B Prince in his Estate, and makes him to be obeied of his subjects: and again, as I may say reciprocally, it maintaineth his subjects in prosperitie under the obedience of the Prince. There is yet more, that is, That good Counsell obtaineth honour and good reputation to a Prince: For if a Prince be not wise of himselfe, nor of great De Comines, lib. 1. cap. 32 and 34. capacitie, yet he shall be accounted wise, if he provide himselfe good Counsellors. For it is commonly seene, that men attribute alwaies the effects of all things unto Princes, whether they be victories in warre which was conducted by wise Captains, or they be good rules, ordinances, and provisions, which have been layed and buil­ded by wise Pollititians, his Counsellors: insomuch, that the qualities & conditions of Princes Counsellors are alwaies attributed unto him, because of the effects which C arise thereof; which alwaies seeme to the people to proceed from him, by whose power and authoritie things are done. And withall, it is impossible, that the prince which is provided of good Counsellors, should not ever learne with them, and eve­ry day bee more and more cunning and sufficient well to understand and governe his affaires (unlesse he be exceeding dull and sencelesse.) For how good Counsel­lors soever the Prince hath, yet must he not so much repose and trust upon them, as he himselfe will understand nothing of his owne affaires. Well to be allowed is the opinion of M. Philip de Comines, who saith, That God hath not established the office of a Prince to be exercised upon brute beasts, and to mocke and scorne them which speake to them of any affaire; answering, I am no Clarke, I leave all to my D Counsellors, in whom I trust, and so go to their pastimes: For (saith he) if they have been well nourished in their youth, they will alledge other reasons, and desire that men should esteeme them wise and vertuous.

Moreover, it is certaine, that the Prince which shall have the reputation and re­nowne, Good Coū sell makes the Prince feared and redouted. Titus Livius lib. 2. Dec. 3. to governe himselfe by good Counsell, shall alwaies be the more feared and redouted both of his enemies and strangers, and they shall not easily get any ad­vantage upon him. Thereupon it was, that Anniball, a prudent and valiant Captain, feared more the wise Captaines that were sent against him by the Romans, than he did such as were hardie and hazardous. And that the Romane forces were more feared and doubted of him, under the conduction of that wise Captaine Fabius E Maximus, than under the other hardie and valiant Captaines. For when the Ro­manes sent against him the Captaines Flaminius and Sempronius, the one after the other, both of them generous and forward, and such as desired nothing more than the sight, Anniball rejoyced thereat. And as he was prudent and hardie withall, he suffered them to take upon him some small advantages, seeking still to draw them unto some place of advantage, to fight with them, as indeed he did: They beeing [Page 14] swelled, for that in some light skirmishes they had overthrowne some few of Anni­bals F souldiors, and thereby thought it was not honourable to recoile, and that men would think their hearts failed them to flie before such as they had alreadie beaten, resolved to give battaile; and indeed they gave it, but they lost it to their great shame and confusion. Which the Romane Senate seeing, sent against Anniball, Fabius Maximus, who was not so forward (and it may bee not so hardie) in enter­prizing as Flaminius or Sempronius were; but he was more wise and carefull, as he shewed himselfe. For at the first arrivall, as the other did, he did not aboord and set upon Anniball (who desired no other thing) but began to coast him a farre off, see­king alwayes advantageous places. And when Anniball approched him, then would he shew him a countenance fully determined to fight, yet alwaies seeking G places of advantage. But Anniball, which was not so rash as to joine with his ene­mie to his own disadvantage, made a shew to recoile and flie, to draw him after him: Fabius followed him, but it was upon coasts and hils, seeking alwayes not the shor­test way, but that way which was most for his advantage: insomuch, as Anniball saw him alwaies upon some hill or coast nigh him, as it were a cloud over his head: so that after Anniball had many times assaied to draw Fabius into a place fit for him­selfe, and where he might give battaile for his owne good, and yet could not there­unto draw him, said: ‘I see well now, that the Romanes also have gotten an Anniball: and I feare that this cloud, which approching vs, still hovers upon those hils, will some of these mornings poure out some shoure on our heads.’ Breefely, the pruden­cie H and wisdome of Fabius brought more feare and gave more adoe unto Anniball, than all the Romane forces, which yet was not small.

I have above recited another example, witnessed of king Edward of England, who said, That he feared more the missives and letters of king Charles le Sage, than he feared the great and puissant armies of 40 and 100000 men of his Father and Grandfather: and that wrought him more trouble, and broke more of his purposes and enterprises, in enditing of letters, than they ever did with their great forces. Which is another witnesse made for prudence and good Counsell, like unto the example of Anniball: which witnesses are so much the more worthie of credite, as the one proceeded from a most valiant king, and the other from a most noble and I hardie Captaine; both which well knew by long use and experience, how to helpe themselves with force and armes. And if we consider the Romane hystories, we shall truly find, that the ancient Romanes made themselves lords and maisters almost of all the world, more by wisdome and good Counsell, than by force: although they used both. Therefore, said Varro, (as by a common proverbe received in his time) That the Romans vanquished, sitting: as if he would say: As they sit in their chairs in their Senate, they provide so for their affaires by good Counsell and wisedome, that they get and obtaine the upper hand in all their enterprises. Yea, and we see that at this day the Venetians maintain very well their estate, yea, do augment and make it greater, although they understand no thing how to handle armes: and indeed K when they must needs goe to warre, they hire and wage people to doe it: but yet notwithstanding are they wise and prudent, keeping themselves as much as they can from the warre: and when they have warre, they do discreetly seeke meanes to quiet and appease it by some other way than by battailes, besiegings of Townes, or any other exploits of warre. And assuredly they know better how to finish and bring a warre to an end by their wisedome and good Counsell, without striking any stroke, [Page 15] than many puissant princes by their forces and armes. A

Hitherto we have spoken of a princes Counsell, which in the time of the Roman A Senat, and the E­states, are things cor­respondēt. emperours men called, The princes Consistorie; and our French, The kings Pri­uie Counsell. But now we must know, that as well the Romane emperours as the kings of France of old, have yet had another Counsell whereunto they had recourse in all their waightie affaires which were of great consequence: as, when they stood in need to make lawes, ordinances, and rules, concerning the universall estate: the Romanes called this Counsell, the Senat; and the French call it, the Parlement. But this name of Parlement, aunciently signifieth an assemblie of the three estates, as Philip de Comines saith, and as is seene by all our French hystories. Our kings also De Comines. lib. 1. cap. 64. convocated sometimes with their ordinarie and priuie Counsell, some good num­ber B of great Prelats and Barons of the realme, and that assemblie they called, The great Counsell. But afterward, men attributed the name of Parlement unto the as­semblie of Iudges and Senators, which judged causes and processes, from whome there is no appeale. And some thinke that our Parlement is at this day like unto the Senat of Rome, but they are greatly deceived: for the Romane Senat tooke not a­ny knowledge of the processes and causes of particular persons, but only dealt with affairs of the State, of the universall government, and pollicie, and of matters of con­sequence unto all the Commonwealth: and therefore the assemblie of the three estates in France, doe much better resemble the Roman Senat than the Parlements doe at this day: which might better be compared unto the Romans Centumvirat, C or to their Praetorian government, which dealt in the knowledge of appellations, and matters of justice distributive, from which judgement ther was no appeale. And as the name of Parlement is at this day otherwise applied than it was anciently, so is it of the name of Great Counsell. But to come to our purpose. Wee read that the good Emperours never contemned or thought much, in waightie affairs to take the advice of the Romane Senat, and to governe themselves thereby: for although that by the change of the estate which happened in the time of Iulius Caesar, when the commonwealth was changed into a Monarchie, the authoritie of the Senate was much abated and weakened; yet there was never emperour found that durst enter­prise altogether to abolish it: but contrarie, the good and wise emperors rather hel­ped D to establish their authoritie and power. And the reason why no emperor, good or wicked, durst enterprise to abolish the Senate, was, because by the Law Roiall (whereby the estate Monarchicall was established at Rome) there was only transfer­red unto the king, the authoritie and power of the people, and not that which the Senat had. Which people, although they had sovereigne power over every parti­cular person of the Senat, yet had they no power over the whole body of the Senat: for they might well punish with death one Senator, but they had no superioritie o­ver the body of the Senat. So the body of the Senat, and the body of the People, were as it were alike and equall. And as much authoritie had the lawes of the Senat, which they called Senatus consulta, as the lawes of the People, which they called E Plebiscita. And therefore the emperours which by the Law Roiall succeeded in the place of the People only (for the Senat did never despoile themselves of their au­thoritie to invest the emperour therewith) had never power to decay the Senat, ney­ther durst they ever enterprise it, although some had a will thereunto, as Nero, Cali­gula, and their like. But as for the good emperours, besides that they had no power to abolish the Senat, they never had any desire thereof, but maintained and con­served [Page 16] it, and governed themselves by it, and by it were they better obeied. For we F need not doubt but a people will more willingly obey a Law or Decree, which shall have been sifted and examined in a great, wise and notable an assembly, such as was the Senate, and will like it better, and rather judge the Law to be founded upon rea­son and equitie, than when it onely passeth through the braine of one sole man, or of some small number. Therefore the Emperour Alexander Severus never made Lamp. in Alexand. law nor edict, but he had on his Counsell twentie great and excellent Lawyers, and fiftie other great & excellent persons, wise and well experienced. And yet to the end that they might give their opinions more assuredly, he first made them understand the matter upon which they must give their advise, and after give time to consider thereof, that their opinions might bee better digested & resolved. Therfore also the G Emperour Theodosius ordained, that no law should be availeable, unlesse it were first L. humanum C. de Leg. concluded and determined with good and assured resolution of all the princes Con­sistorie, and afterward received and approved by the Senat of Rome. ‘For (saith he) we know well, that the ordinance of good Lawes and Edicts concluded with good Counsell and deliberation, is the establishment of the assurednesse and glory of our Empire.’ Therefore was it also, that that great and wise Emperour Augustus Caesar, did so communicate all the affaires of his Commonwealth with the Romane Se­nate, Dion in Au­gust. that as Dion saith, he made a sweet and pleasant mingled harmonie of the Mo­narchicall estate, with the estate of the Commonwealth. And he not onely conten­ted not himselfe to conferre with the Senate all affaires of importance, and to take H their advise; but yet he would that the Senate should give him every yeare twentie Counsellors to be nigh him, of his privie Councell: in which Counsell he had al­waies many men very wise, courteous, and very modest, such as the Lawyer Treba­tius, and that good and prudent Agrippa his sonne in law, with that so learned and good a piller of learned men Mecoenas. Therefore also Tiberius the Emperour, the successor of Augustus, although he was a Prince more abundant in vices than in ver­tues, not daring wholly to stray out of his predecessors traces (that good Augustus,) made nor ordained any thing of weight without the Counsell and advise of the Se­nate. For this cause also (breefely) all the good Emperors, as Vespatian, Titus, Tra­ian, Adrian, the Antonines, and others like, communicated alwaies with the Senate I upon all the great affaires of the Commonwealth; and they bore themselves not like maisters, but like Presidents of the Senat: also they did not attribute unto them­selves any title of honour, nor enterprised to make any triumphs, but such as was de­creed and ordained by the Senate. And by the contrarie, the Emperours which were of no account, such as Caligula, Nero, Comodus, Bassianus, Maximinus, Helio­gabalus, and other like, hated extreamely the Senate, esteeming of it as their pede­goge and corrector; and have caused many Senators to die, thinking the more easily to command as they would, having no controulers to withstand their wicked acti­ons. But the end was alwayes this, that such as despised and would have annihilated the Senate, have ever had an unluckie end, and reigned not long time, but have all K been massacred and slaine young, and have left unto their posteritie an infamie and most wicked memorie of them. Herein is shewed a continuall successe of the just judgements of God against them which despised wise Counsell: and contrary, a fe­licitie and divine prosperitie in other Emperours, which governed themselves by the good Counsell of the Senate, and of the wise men of their privie Counsell: For they raigned and held the Empire happily replenished with all goods, honour, and [Page 17] glorie, and their subjects under them enjoyed good handling, and good repose and A tranquilitie. And we need not doubt that such felicitie comming to good Princes, the evill haps unto wicked Princes, doe not proceed from God: for as the wise man saith: Good Counsell commeth from God, and he that despiseth the gift of God, Prov. 18. Eccle. 37. certaine it is, that in the end he shall be well chastised.

Our kings of France of old, used the same course that these good Emperors did: For they often convocated the three Estates of the kingdome, to have their advise and Counsell in affaires of great consequence, which touched the interest of the Commonwealth. And it is seene by our Hystories, that the generall assembly of the Estates was commonly done for three causes: One, when there was a question In old time the general Estates wer held for three cau­ses. to provide for the kingdome, a Governour or Regent; as when kings were young, or B had not the use of their understandings by some accident, or were captives or priso­ners: For in these cases the three Estates assembled to obtaine a Governour for the Realme. Againe, when there was cause to reforme the kingdome, to correct the a­buses of Officers and Magistrates, and to bring things unto their ancient and first institution and integritie: For kings caused the Estates to assemble; because that many being assembled from all parts of the kingdome, they might better be infor­med of all abuses and evill behaviours committed therein, and might also better worke the means to remedie them: because commonly, There is no better Physici­an, than he that knoweth well the disease, and the causes therof. The third cause why there was made an assembly of the Estates, was, when there was a necessary cause to C lay a Tribute or Impost upon the people: For then in a full assembly, some shewed to them which were there (which represented all the people) the necessitie of the kings and the kingdomes affaires, who graciously and courteously entreated the people to aid and helpe the king but with so much money as they themselves thought to be sufficient and necessarie. And for this cause, that which the Estates accorded to the king, was called with these gracious names, Subsidies, Subventi­tions, Aydes, Grants: not with these tearmes, Tailles, Imposts, Tributes, Imposi­tions; which were tearmes more hard and odious. Examples appeare of the first cause, when the generall Estates assembled at Paris, after the death of king Charles le Sage, to provide for the government as well of king Charles the sixt, being under Annal. up­on An 1380 and Fross. li 2. cap. 58. & 60. D age, as of the kingdome: which government they gave unto three of the kings un­cles: namely, to the Duke of Berry, Languedoc, to the Duke of Bourgoigne, Picar­die, and Normandie, and to the Duke de Aniou: the remainder of all the realme, and the rule of the young kings person was committed to the said Dukes of Berry and Bourgoigne. So was there ordained during the said kings life, another ordinance?

In like manner the generall Estates were held at Tours after the decease of king Lewis the eleventh, to purvey for the government of king Charles the eighth, under Annal. upon An. 148. and Co [...]n. [...]ib. 1. ca. 109. age, and of the kingdome. And by the same Estates was established a Counsell of twelve persons, good men and of good calling, to dispatch the affaires of the king­dome; yet in the kings name, and under his authoritie. And the rule of the young E kings person was committed unto Madame de Beavien his sister.

When king Charles the sixt le bien aime, was come to the age of one and twentie yeares, his uncles were discharged from the government of the kingdome, by the Froiss. lib 1. cap. 134. & lib. 4. cap. 44. advise and deliberation of the kings great Counsell. But this good prince by an ac­cident of sicknesse fell a certaine time after into a frenzie, which sometimes bereaved him of his sences; insomuch that the Estates assembled at Paris, gave the govern­ment [Page 18] of the kingdome during the kings indisposition, to his two uncles, the dukes of F Berrie and Burgoigne.

The yeare 1356. that king Iohn was taken prisoner nie Poictres at the journey of Annal. up­on An. 1356 and Fross. li. 1. cap. 170. 171. Maupertins with his sonne Philip (after Duke of Burgoigne) and that they were led into England, there remained in France three of the said king Iohns children, name­ly, Charles Dauphin and duke of Normandie, Lewis duke de Aniou, and Iohn duke of Berrie: There was a question about the providing for the government of the king­dome, because of the kings captiuitie, but none of them would enterprise the man­naging thereof of himselfe: insomuch, that the generall Estates were assembled at Paris, whereby were elected thirtie six persons (some say fiftie) to governe the af­faires of the kingdome with Monsieur le Dauphin, who at the beginning called him­selfe G the Lieutenant of the king his father, but afterward he named himselfe Re­gent.

The yeare 1409. during the raigne of Charles the sixt king of France, were held Monstrelet. lib. 1. ca. 59. the generall Estates at Paris, for the reformation of abuses in the kingdome. And there it was ordained, that all accountants for the kings revenues and rents should make their accounts. By the meanes of which reformation, great summes of mo­ney were recovered upon the same accountants, and there were also made some good lawes and ordinances. In other conventions of Estates, the money and coine hath been reformed from weake and light, unto thicke and of good waight and goodnesse. Also of late at the generall Estates held at Orleans, were made manie H goodly ordinances for the good and comfort of the poore people, reformation of justice, and for the cutting off of manie abuses which were committed in plaies at Cardes and Dise, in superfluitie of apparell, and in matter of benefices. But com­monly commeth such euill hap, that all good things which are introducted and or­dained vpon good reason and to a good end, incontinent vanish away, and wicked examples are alwaies drawne into consequence.

As for the last cause for which we haue said the generall Estates in old time were called, namely for the graunt of Helps & Subsidies; ther are manie examples in our Histories. As in the time of king Iohn, wherein the Estates accorded great subven­tions Froiss. lib. 1. cap. 155. Annal. up­on An 1354 58. 59. or subsidies to make warre against the English men, which then held a great I part of the kingdome. And after he was taken prisoner and led into England, the said Estates agreed to give vnto Monsieur le Dauphin his soune, great summes of mo­ney to pay for the said kings raunsome, and for Philip his sonne, being also a priso­ner. And well to be marked it is, that our histories doe witnesse, that all the people of France generally, were meruailously anguished & grieved with the prisonment & captivitie which they saw their king suffer, but especially the people of the countrey of Languedoc: For the Estates of the said countrey ordained, that if the king were not delivered within a yeare, that every one, both men and women, should lay by all coloured garments, such also as were jagged and cut, and such as were en­riched with gold, silver, or other strange and costly fashion: Likewise, to make K cease all stage-plaies, morrisdauncings, piping, yea and plaies, pastimes and daun­ces; in signe and token of their mourning and lamentation for their princes cap­tivitie. A thing whereby appeared the great and cordiall affection of this people towards their king. As truely the Frenchmen have alwaies been of great love and affection towards their kings, unlesse they were altogither tyrants. But to make an end of this point: Certaine it is, that before king Charles the seventh called le Vi­ctorieux, [Page 19] no Subsidies were imposed, without assembling the generall Estates. And A that our kings used thus to do, was not because they had power by an absolute au­thoritie to impose tallages and subsidies, without calling the Estates: but it is to the end they may be better obeyed with a voluntarie and unconstrained obedience, and to shunne all uprores and rebellions which often happen upon that occasion. And truly, the French people have alwaies been so good and obedient unto their kings, that they never refused him any thing, if there were but any appearance of reason to demand it. Yea often the Estates have granted their king more than he would de­mand, or durst looke for: as is seene by that which our histories write of the Estates held for Subsidies.

But because Aydes and Subsidies were customably granted for the making of De Com. lib. 5. cap. 18. B warres, M. Philip de Comin. saith, That kings should also communicat and consult with their Estates, whether the causes of such warres be just and reasonable; and that the Prince cannot nor ought not otherwise to enterprise a warre: For it is reason that they which defray the charges and expenses, should know something. But yet he passeth further, and saith: There is no Prince in the world which hath power to lay one pennie upon his subjects without their grant and consent, unlesse he will use tyrannie and violence. But because at the first they which reade this place of Com­mines, may peradventure thinke that he seemes too much to limit and restraine a Princes power, I will here as it were by an interpretation of his saying, a little cleare this point. C

You must then understand and presuppose, that in a soveraigne Prince, there A Prince hath a dou­ble power, an absolute and a civile. are two powers: the one is called an absolute power, and the other a civile power. The absolute power, is that which cannot nor ought not to be any thing limited, but stretcheth it selfe to all things whatsoever they be, unlesse it be to the lawes of God and of nature, and of those lawes which are the foundation of the principalitie and estate: For a Prince hath not power over God, no more than the vassall hath over his liege Lord, but ought himselfe to obey his commandements and or­dinances: So much there wants that he can any thing abolish or derogate from them.

The Prince also cannot abolish the fundamentall lawes of his principalitie, wher­upon D his estate is founded, and without which his said estate cannot subsist nor en­dure: for so might he abolish and ruinate himselfe. As in France the king cannot abolish the Salicke law, nor the three estates, nor the law of not alienating the coun­tries and provinces united to the crowne. For the Realme and the Royaltie are founded upon those three points; which are as three pillars, that sustaine and hold up both the king and kingdome: neither can the Prince breake nor abolish any law naturall, approved by the common sence of all men. But in all other things, the ab­solute power of a Prince reacheth without limitation; for it is above all other lawes which he may make and unmake at his pleasure: he hath power also over the body and goods of his subjects, without restriction, purely and simply. True it is, that he E ought to temperat the use of that Absolute power, by the moderation of his second power, which is Civile; as we shall say hereafter. But suppose he will not moderate his absolute power by the Civile, we must notwithstanding obey, because God com­mandeth us. But before we speake of the Civile power, we must a little more amply cleare the points before touched.

The first point then, which is, that the Absolute power of a Prince stretcheth not [Page 20] above God, is a matter of all confessed: And there were never found any Princes F (or very few) which would soare and mount so high, as to enterprise upon that which belonged unto God, yea, even the Emperours Caligula and Domitian are blamed and detested by the Paynim hystories, which had no true knowledge of God, for that they durst enterprise upon God, and upon that which appertained unto him. Also it is a Maxime in Theologie, That we must rather obey God than men: which Maxime hath at all times ben practised by all good people and holy persons (which are praised even with the mouth of God in the holy Scriptures) as by Daniell and his companions, the Apostles, the Christians of the primitive Church, and many of our time.

As for the other point, which is, that the Prince cannot abolish the foundamen­tall The Prince cannot abo­lish the foū ­damentall lawes of his principality G lawes of his principalitie, it is as cleare of it selfe. For if a Prince overthroweth the foundations of his principalitie, he ruinateth and overthroweth himselfe, and his estate cannot endure: for the first sencelesse and unwise man that comes there­unto, will overthrow all upside downe. As if in Fraunce a king may overthrow the Salicke law, and so subject his Crowne unto the succession of women, it is certaine, that long ago the estate of France had been overthrowne. For kings which have left none but daughters after them (as Philip [...]le long, Charles le bel, and Lewis the twelfth) had been easily enclined upon naturall affection towards their daughters, to have broken that Salicke law (if they so could) to cause the Crowne to have falne unto their said daughters; by the meanes whereof, the kingdome after should have H falne into strangers hands, and by consequent into ruine and dissipation. For the nature of the inhabitants of France is such, that they cannot long suffer a strange Prince (wherein they differ from many other nations) as they could not long beare the domination of the Romane Emperours: but against the reigne of the Empe­rour Tiberius they began to kicke, and be greeved with the rule of Princes of ano­ther nation than their owne: and finally, they rid themselves of the Romanes yoke, and Gaule was the first Province that cut it selfe from the Empire. Neither was there ever found king that durst enterprise to breake the Salicke law. True it is, that king Charles the sixt, at the instigation of Philip duke of Bourgoigne, gave the king­dome of France in dowrie with his daughter Katherine, which he maried to the king I of England, and declared the Dolphin unable and incapable to succeed in the king­dome of Fraunce; because at Monterean-fante-Yonne, Iohn, father of the said Phi­lip duke of Bourgoigne, was by him slaine. But this donation held not, as being made against the Salicke law: insomuch, that the said duke Philip himselfe (which had procured and caused to declare the said Dauphin unable to be king of France) after the death of king Charles the sixt, acknowledged him for king and lawfull suc­cessor to the Crowne of Fraunce. For as for incapacitie, it was knowne there was none, because that duke Iohn, which the Dauphin had slaine, deserved it well, ha­ving before caused to be slaine the duke of Orleance the kings only brother. Yet because the manner of the execution which the said Dauphin caused to be made K upon the said duke Iohn, was not by lawfull meanes, he acknowledged his fault in that case, and made a great satisfaction to the said duke Philip, as shall hereafter be more at large set forth. So then the Salicke law hath alwaies remained firme, as one of the three pillars of the kingdome and royaltie of France, our ancestors neverbe­ing willing to suffer women to raigne and rule over them.

As much is to be said of the Estates generall, the authoritie of which hath alwaies [Page 21] remained whole, untill this present, even from the foundation of the kingdome, as A being the second piller whereupon the kingdome is founded. For if it happen that the crowne fall to a king under age, or to one that is not well in his wit and under­standing, or that the king be a prisoner or captive, or that the kingdome have urgent necessitie of a generall reformation: how necessarie is it in all these cases, that the estates assemble to provide for all affairs, otherwise the estate of the kingdome and of the Roialtie would incontinent fall to the ground? and without doubt it could not long continue in his being, if the generall estates were abolished and suppressed. For to say that in the aforesayd cases, other than the foresaid estates may well order the affairs of the realm, as the princes of the blood, and the kings Counsell, is to say no­thing: because it may so come to passe, that the princes themselves be under age, or B prisoners, or captives, or witlesse, or suspected, or dead, or otherwise uncapable: as al­so it may come to passe that the kings Counsell shall be dead, or quashed, or suspe­cted, or otherwise unable, so that the estate of the kingdome and the Roialtie shall be evill founded and assured upon such foundations and leaning stocks. But the body of the estates Generall, is a body not subject to minoritie, captivitie, perclusion of un­derstanding, suspition, nor other incapacitie, neither is it mortall: therefore is it a more certaine and firme foundation of the kingdomes and Roialties estate than any other. For the body of the Ewates (which is a body composed of the wisest & fittest of the kingdome) can never faile, because it consisteth not in Individuis and certain perticular persons, but it standeth in Specie, being a body immortal (as al the French C nation is immortall.) The Princes, & the kings Counsellors, are but fraile & brittle leaning stocks and means, subject to incapacitie: so is not the body of the Estates: and therefore the Estates being the true and perpetuall foundation to sustaine and conserve the kingdome, cannot be abolished, but ought to be convocated whenso­ever there is to be a provision in the cases above mentioned. Withall also, Reason willeth that the Estates (whom the affairs of the realme toucheth most) should have a part in the conduction of publike things, but most especially in the cases aforesaid, where the king cannot order them. Therefore is it a strange, damnable, and perni­tious position which our strangers that governe France at this day, dare impudently hold, That it is treason to speake of holding the Estates. But contrary, a man may ra­ther D say, That it is treason to abolish the Estates: and that they which wil hinder that they shall not be held in the cases aforesaid (but especially for the reformation more than necessarie of so many abuses as these strangers haue brought into Fraunce) are themselves culpable of treason; being such as doe overthrow and ruinat the Realm, the Roialtie, and the King, in taking away the principall piller which sustained them. And truly such people do merit, that processes and indictions should be laid upon them as upon the enemies of the Commonwealth, which doe subvert & overthrow the foundations upon which our Auncestors have with great wisdome founded and established the estate of this goodly and excellent kingdome.

The like may we say of the Law, whereby the lands and provinces united to the E Crowne of Fraunce, are inalienable: For a king of France cannot abolish that Law, because it is the third piller upon which the realme and his estate is founded. For proofe hereof, I will alleage but two examples, the one was practised in the time of Charls le sage, king of Fraunce, and the other in the time of king Francis the first, of happie and late memorie: By which two examples may appeare, not onely that this law of, Not alienating the lands of the Crowne, is a pillar of the kingdome: but [Page 22] also that the Estates are as the very and true basse and foundation thereof. F

King Iohn having been taken prisoner at the battaile of Poiters, was conducted Froiss. lib. 1. ca. 201, 211, 212, 214, 246, 247, 310. into England: where he made treatie of peace with king Edward of England. But the estates of the kingdome which were assembled, would not agree unto that trea­tie, as too prejudiciall, and to the diminution of the Crowne of France. King Ed­ward was so angry and despited thereat, that he made a great oth that he would end the ruinating of Fraunce. And indeed whilest king Iohn was his prisoner, he passed over the sea, and made great warre in France, and much wasted the flat Countrey, but he made no great conquest of the Townes. In the end the Duke of Lancaster counselled him to make peace with the French, shewing him that he did but leese time so to run over the fields, and spoile the champion countrey, and souldiers only G had the profit, and he himselfe losse of people and expences. These reasons could not much move the king to make peace, he was so sore offended and animated. But God, who had pitie of this poore kingdome (which was in extreame desolation and confusion) wrought and brought to passe, as it were by miracle, a peace; sending from heaven a tempest, accompanied with lightening, so great, over the campe of the English, that they thought that heaven & earth would have met, and the world have finished; for so great stones fell with the tempest, that they overthrew men and horses. Then the king of England seeing God fight against him, being in a great fear and distresse, made a vow unto God, That if by his grace he escaped from that peril, he would hearken unto peace, and would cease to saccage and destroy the poor peo­ple: H as indeed he did after the tempest seased. Which peace yet was accorded, to his so great advantage, that thereby besides the ransome of three millions of franks Guienne remained unto him in soveraigntie; also the countrey of Armignac, de Albret, de Comines, de la Marche, de Santongeois, Rochellois, and a good part of Languedoc, which before never was in the peaceable obedience & domination of English. Vnto this peace (which was concluded in a village called Bretigni, nigh to Chartres) the French subjects of that countrey would not in any sort agree nor con­discend: but refused to obey and yeeld themselves English. For their reasons they al­leaged, That the king had no power to dismember and alienate them from the Crowne of France; and that therupon they had priviledges from king Charlemaine, I whereby they could not, nor ought not to be cut off from the truncke and house of France. After that they had long debated & refused to obey, the king Iohn (who up­on good hostages was returned into Fraunce) sent into his countries M. Iames de Bourbon his cousin, and a Prince of his bloud, to make them obey the English: inso­much, that whether they would or no, those good French subjects should forsake the French obedience, and be under the English governement. This could not be with­out great greefe of heart, sadnesse, and incredible displeasure. But above all others, most remarkable for great constancie, were they of Rochell, to remaine French: for they many times excused themselves unto the king, and stood stiffe more than a Rochellois good Frēchmen. yeare, before they would let the Englishmen into the towne. And thinking that K their excuses and remonstrances might stand in some stead, they sent to the king their Orators: which arriving at Paris, and being brought before the king, fell at his feet with weepings, sobbings, and lamentations, making this speech. ‘Most deare sir, your poore and desolate subjects of your towne of Rochell, have sent us hither to beseech your Majestie in all humilitie, and with joined hands, that it would please you to have pitie and compassion upon them. They are your naturall subjects, and [Page 23] they and their ancestors have ever been under the obedience of your majestie and A your auncestors. Alas (Sir) what greater evill hap can there come unto us, than to be now cut off and alienated from the kingdome and from the Crowne of France? They are borne and have been nourished in the French nation, They are of man­ners, condition, and language, naturall Frenchmen. What a strange and deplorable miserie should it now be to them, to bend themselves under the yoke and obedience of the English, a strange nation, altogether different from us in manners, conditi­ons, and language? shall not this be unto them a cruell and slavish servitude, now to become subjects unto them, which of long time have not ceased to vex this poore kingdome with warre? For if upon some divine punishment, and for our sinnes, the poore town of Rochell must needs be violently plucked and seperated from France, B as the daughter from the mothers dug, to submit it selfe unto the sad servitude of a stranger; yet that evill should be farre more tollerable, to serve and yeeld to the yoke of any other nation, than to that which so long time hath been a bloudie enemie of Fraunce, and hath shed so much of our bloud. Wherefore most humbly we beseech you (Sir) said they with teares, that you will not deliver us into the hands of the En­glish, your enemies and ours. If in any thing we have offended your Majestie, for which you will now leave and abandon us, we crie you mercie with joined hands, and pray you in the name of God, and of our Lord Iesus Christ, that it would please you to have mercie and compassion upon us, and to retaine us alwaies under your obedience, as we and our auncestors have alwayes been. We are not ignorant (Sir) C that your Majestie having been prisoner in England, hath been constrained to ac­cord with them to their great advantage, and that we are comprehended in the num­ber of the Townes and Countries that must be delivered: but yet we have some hope, that we may be taken from that number, by silver; and for that purpose your poore town of Rochell offereth contribution to yo [...]r Majestie all that it hath in her power; and besides, we offer to pay with a good heart hereafter for our Subsidies and taillies, halfe the revenue and gaines of all our goods. Have pitie then (Sir) upon your poore Towne, which comes to retire her selfe under your protection in most humble and affection at obedience, as a poore, desolate, and lost creature, to his Fa­ther, his King, and his naturall Lord and Soveraigne. We obtest and beseech you D (most deare Sir) in the name of God, and of all his Saints, that you will not aban­don and forsake us: but that it would please your clemencie and kindnesse to retaine for your subjects, most humble, them which cannot live but in al vexation, languish­ment, and bitternesse of heart, unlesse we be your subjects.’ The king having heard the piteous supplication of these poor Rochellois, mourned and pitied them great­ly: but he made them answere, That there was no remedie, that which he had accor­ded, must needs be executed. This answere being reported at Rochell, it is impossi­ble to speake what lamentations there were through all the Towne; this newes was so hard, that they which were born & nourished French, should be no more French, but become English. Finally, they being pressed & constrained by the kings Com­missaries E to open the Towne-gates to the English: ‘Well (said the most notable townsmen) seeing we are forced to bow under the yoke, and that it pleaseth the king our soveraigne lord, that we should obey the English, we will with our lips, but our hearts shall remaine alwaies French.’ After that the English had been peaceable possessors of Rochell, and all the other countries abovenamed, king Edward inve­sted his eldest sonne the prince of Wales, in that government, (a valiant and very [Page 24] humble Prince towards greater than himselfe, but haughtie and proud towards his F inferiors) who came and held his traine and court at Bourdeaux, where having dwelt certaine yeares, he would needs have imposed upon the countrey a yearely tribute of money upon every fire. But to withstand this new impost and tribute, the Lords, Barons, and Counties of those countries, but especiall the Countie d' Armignac, de Perigourd, de Albret, de Commenges, and many others, all which went to Paris to offer in their appeales against the Prince of Wales: Arriving there, they dealt with king Charles le Sage (for king Iohn was then dead) about their appeale; who answered them, That by the peace of Britaine, which he himselfe had sworne the dead king his father for him and his successors to the Crowne, had acquited and renounced all the soveraignetie of the said countries, and that he could not with a good consci­ence G breake the peace with the English, and that it greeved him much, that with good reason he could not accord their appeale. The said Counties and Barons con­trarily, shewed him by lively reasons, That it is not in the kings power to release & ac­quite the soveraigne power and authoritie of his subjects and countries, without the consent of the Prelats, Barons, Cities, and good Townes of those Countries; and that was never seene nor practised in France, and that if they had been called to the treatie of Britaine, they would never have consented unto that acquittance of so­veraigntie. And therefore humbly praied his Majestie to receive their appellation, and to send an huisher to adjorne in case of appeale, the Prince of Wales to ap­peare at Paris at the Court of Fraunce, to the end to quash and revoke the said new H ordinance for the said tribute. Finally, the king Charles was nothing offended to heare them so speake of a kings power (much unlike our Machiavelistes at this day which call them culpable of treason, which speake of Estates) neither replied unto them, that the power of a soveraigne Prince ought not to be limited, neither that they spoke evill to revoke into doubt that which his dead father had done: but con­trary, rejoycing at that limitation, referred the cause to the debating and resolution of the wise men of his Counsell. And after he was resolved, that it was true which they said, he accorded unto these Counties and Barons their demaund, and sent to adjorne in case of appeale to the Court of Paris, the Prince of Wales: which done, the said Counties and Barons easily revolted from the English obedience: so did I Rochell get all Englishmen out of their towne and castle. This done, the duke of Berry, the kings brother, would have entred there; but for that time with good words they refused him the entrie thereinto, saying, they would send unto the king certain Delegates, to obtaine some priviledges, and therefore desired of the duke a safe-conduct, which he willingly granted: and having the same, they sent twelve chosen for that purpose amongst their Burgesses, which finding the king at Paris, shewed him in all humilitie, how of themselves they were rid of the English obedience, and that again they would remit themselves into his Majesties obedience, as being their king and naturall soveraigne Prince, but that they besought him humbly to accord Priviledges of Rochell. them certaine priviledges. The king demanded, what priviledges. First, said they, K That it would please your Majestie to agree unto us, that the Towne of Rochell may be inseparably united unto the Crowne of France, so that it may never be seperated nor dismembred, by peace, mariage, nor by any compact, condition, or misadven­ture, that can come in Fraunce: Secondly, that the Castle may be throwne to the earth, without which, we will keepe the towne of Rochell well for your Majestie. The king perceiving their demands, and finding them reasonable, and proceeding from [Page 25] a true French heart, accorded their requests: and so the Rochellois returned meri­ly A into the French obedience, from whence they had been seperated to their great greefe. Here then you see how well to the purpose and to the great profit of the king and of the kingdome, that law of not alienating the Lands, Townes, and Pro­vinces of the Crowne, was made. But upon this that I have said of the Rochellois, some Messer will say: How happeneth it then, that the Rochellois are at this day so bad French subjects? hereunto the answere is easie and evident, that is, that they are at this day as good Frenchmen, as ever were the ancestours, but they are not good Italians, neither meane to be subject under the yoke of strangers, no more than their ancestors. Let us now come to the other example.

King Francis the first of that name, being prisoner at Madril in Spain, in power of B the emperour Charles the fist, there was made a traitie and an accord betwixt the two great princes; whereby amongst other things, the king promised the emperor, to grant him all his right and possession of the Dutchie of Burgoigne, and that he would imploy himselfe to cause the Estates of the countrey to condiscend therunto. This accord being concluded, the emperor caused the king to be conducted to Bayonne, and there by his embassadours summoned him to ratifie the accord which he had made at Madril when he was prisoner, to the end to make more vale­able and that it might the rather appeare to be made without constraint; unto which embassadours the king answered; that he could doe nothing in that article concer­ning the Dutchie of Burgoigne without first knowing the intent and will of his sub­jects, C because he could not aliene it without their consent, and that he would cause the Estates of the countrey to assemble to know their wils therein. Not long after the king caused the Estates of Burgoigne to come together, which would by no meanes consent unto the said alienation: whereof hee advertised the emperour, who seeing that by reason they could not be alienated without their consents, was content with that answer; upon this condition: That the king would assure the said Dutchie unto the first heire male which the said king should have by Elenor the said emperours sister, unto whom he was then espoused: so that, that law (That the king cannot alienate the Crowne-land) was then verie profitable unto the king and the kingdome. And unto this agree the doctors of the Civill law, which hold; that the D emperour cannot aliene any thing of the Empires, but he is bound to increase it to his power. And from thence they drawe (but foolishly) the etymologie of that name Augustus, saying: The Emperors are called Augusti, for that they ought to encrease, and cannot diminish the Empire: as much say they of other kings and monarchs, for there is therein the like reason.

For a conclusion, no man of perfect judgment can denie, but these three lawes of the kingdome of France, namely, the law Salicke; the law of the Estates general; and the law of not alienating the lands and provinces of the crowne, are the verie true pillars, bases, and foundations of the kingdome and the royaltie, which none can or ought to abolish. I doubt not but there will be found manie, which will be E quarelling at those aforesaid examples and reasons: and will say: That to sustain and defend that the king cannot abolish the said lawe, is to diminish his power, and to give limitation and restriction to his soveraigne authoritie. But for reply, I will on­ly demaund: If it be not puissance in a prince to conserve him and his estate? If they confesse yea (as none can denie it, if he be not altogether without judgement:) I say, it followeth by argument taken from contraries, that it is then impuissance and [Page 26] want of power in a prince, to ruinate himselfe and his estate. And by consequent it F followeth, that when we say that a Prince cannot abolish the fundamentall lawes of him and his estate; so much there wanteth that we diminish his power, that by the contrarie we establish it and make it more firme, greater, and as it were invincible. As also on the contrarie, they which say, that a Prince can abolish and change his lawes, upon which he and his Estate are founded; they establish and place in him an impuissance to conserve himselfe. For to take it rightly and in good sence, it is an act of impuissance, to ruinat, destroy, overthrow, and to participate his estate: And con­trarie, it is an act of power to conserve himselfe, and maintaine his estate. No more nor no lesse, than when a building falleth upon the earth, or when a man letteth it fall, these be acts of feeblenesse, frailetie, and impuissance: but when the one and the other holdeth and standeth streight and firme, without cracking or falling, these G be acts of force and power.

As for the law Naturall, it cannot be abolished: For if a Prince will authorise, The law naturall cā ­not be abo­lished by the king, or any other. adulteries, incests, thefts, murders, and massacres, and other like crimes, which na­turall reason and common sence causeth us to abhorre and detest: certaine and evi­dent it is, that such authorising is of no value, and that the Prince cannot doe this. When the emperor Claudius wold espouse Agrippina, his niece, his brothers daugh­ter, he made a Law, whereby he authorised the mariage of the uncle with the niece, which was published all over: but sayth Suetonius, no man would imitate and fol­low the Emperours example (but a bad servant newly enfranchised, and a souldier,) H every body so detested and abhorred such kind of mariages, as being contrarie to the naturall law and common sence. And indeed, this mariage fell not out well for Sueto. in Claudio. cap. 26. Tacitus An­nal. lib. 12. him: For Agrippina his neece and wife, poysoned him to bring to the Empire Nero hir sonne (whom she had had by another husband) and had caused him to be adop­ted for his sonne; although he had by his first wife Messalina another naturall sonne, called Britanicus, whom Nero (when he came to the Empire) empoysoned to death: so that by the incestuous mariage, wherewith Claudius had contaminated and poy­soned his house, he and his naturall sonne (who by reason should have been his suc­cessor) were killed with poyson. We read likewise, that the Emperour Bassianus Car­racalla Spartian. in Carac. beholding one day Iulia his mother in law with an eye of incestuous concu­piscence. I She said unto him, Si tu le veux, tu le peux. If thou wilt, thou maiest; Know­est thou not that it belongs unto thee to give the law, not to receive it? which talke so enflamed him yet more with lust, that he tooke her to wife in marriage. Hereup­on Hystoriographers note, that if Bassianus had knowne well, what it was to give a law, he would have detested and prohibited such incestuous and abhominable copu­lations, and not to have authorised them. For breefely, a Prince may well give lawes unto his subjects, but it must not be contrary to nature and naturall reason. This was the cause why Papinian the great Lawyer (who well understood both naturall and ci­vile law) loved better to die, than to obey the said Emperor Bassianus, who had com­manded him to excuse before the Senate his parricide, committed in the person of K Geta his brother. For Papinian knowing, that such a crime was against natural right, so much there wanted, that he would have obeied the Emperor, if he had comman­ded him to have perpetrated and committed it, that he would not obey him so far therein, as to excuse it. Wherein the Paynim Lawyer may serve for a goodly exam­ple to condemne many Magistrate Lawyers of our time, which not only excuse, but also cause to be executed unnaturall murders and massacres against all law divine [Page 27] and humane. But now we have spoken of a Princes absolute power, let us come to A the other.

The other power, which we call Civile, is that which is governed and as it were The Civile power tem­perateth the Abso­lute. limited within the bounds of Reason, of right, and equitie, and which we must pre­sume, that the Prince will use, and useth ordinarily in all his commaunds: unlesse expressely he shew and declare, that he willeth and ordaineth this or that of his abso­lute power and of his certaine knowledge. This is that second power, which is gui­ded by prudence and good Counsell: and which giveth a sweet temperature and counterpoise to that absolute power, no more nor no lesse, than the second motion of the Sunne tempereth the course of the first, as we have abovesaid. This is that power which establisheth and conserveth in assurednesse, kingdomes and empiers, B and without which they cannot stand, but incontinent shal be ruinated, annihilated, and laid on the ground. This is that power which all good Princes have so practised, (letting their absolute power cease without using any, unlesse in a demonstration of Majestie, to make their Estate more venerable and better obeyed) that in all their actions and in all their commands they desire to subject and submit themselves to lawes and to reason. And in this doing they never thought or esteemed to doe any thing unworthie of their Majestie, but contrary, have ever accounted, that there was no thing more beseeming the majestie of a soveraigne Prince, than to live and car­rie himselfe in all his actions according to right and equitie. And that the domina­tion and power of a Prince, that so governeth himselfe, is greater, more secure and C more venerable, than his, which governeth himselfe after the absolute power. And truly, all the good Romane Emperours have alwayes held this language, and have so practised their power, as we read in their hystories. Yea, the Emperour Theodosius L. digna Vox. C. de Lege. made an expresse law for it, which is so good to be marked, that I thought good to translate it word by word. ‘It is the majestie of him that governeth, to confesse him­selfe to be bound unto lawes, so much doth our authoritie depend upon law. And as­suredly, it is a farre greater thing than the Empire it selfe, to submit his Empire and power unto lawes. And that which we will not to be lawfull unto us, we shew it unto others by the oracle of this our present Edict. Given at Ravenna the eleventh day of Iune, the yeare of the Consulship of Florentius and Dionisius. D’

To come then to our purpose, you must understand, that de Comines spoke of this second power in the place above alledged, and not of the absolute power of a Prince: for by that power it is certain, that the Prince hath good authority to enterprise wars, & to levie imposts upon his subjects without their consent. Because that by the roiall law above mentioned, the Roman people gave all the like power unto the Prince, as Dion de Au­gust. [...]. I. D. de Constit. Princ. they had themselves, to use it towards the people, & against the people; & gave him absolute power without any astriction or bond to laws, to do what he would. We see also by the law of God the same absolute power is given unto kings & soveraign Prin­ces. For it is written, that they shall have full power over the goods & persons of their subjects. And althogh God have given them that absolute power, as to his ministers 1. Sam. 8. E & lieutenants on earth, yet wold he not have thē use it, but with a temperance & mo­deration of the second power, which is ruled by reason & equitie, which we call Civile. For, so much there wanteth, that God would that Princes shold use the said absolute power upon their subjects, as he wold not so far constrain them, as to sell their goods, as is declared unto us in the example of Naboth. For most unlikely is it, that God 1. King. 22. the great Dominator and Governor of al Princes, would have Princes to abuse their [Page 28] powers with cruelties, rapines, injustices, or any other unreasonable way of absolute F power. But as God by justice punisheth the wicked, and by kindnesse and clemencie maintaineth the good, and rightly and most holily useth his divine power; so would he, that Princes which are his lieutenants on earth, should do the like; not in perfe­ction (for that they cannot) but in imitation.

To conclude then now our talke, concerning the place of Comines, certaine it is, that a Prince may well make warre, and impose tallies without the consent of his subjects, by an absolute power: but better it is for him to use his civile power, so shuld he be better obeyed. And as for Aydes and Subsidies, whereof Comines speaketh, some say they are not at this day levied by an absolute power, but by the peoples consent. Because in the time of Charles the seventh (who had great and long warres G against the English) the Estates generall of the kingdome agreed unto him to levie Aydes and Subsidies every yeare, without any more calling them together; for that the warres endured so long, and that their every yeares assembly would have come to great expences: so that if the cause had alwaies continued, then necessarily shuld the imposition have continued. But certaine it is, that this consent, delivered by the said Estates, concerned only the English warres, which ending, the said consent fini­shed: yet afterward, the said consent and accord of the Estates was drawne into a custome. In the time of king Charles the eight, the Estates generall at Tours, were convocated, as well to provide for the government of the king and of the king­dome (for his majestie was under age) as also for Aydes and Subsidies; which were H freely graunted by the said Estates, although the people of Fraunce were then very poore and ruinated. And the abovenamed Comines sheweth one thing that is very true, That the holding of the said Estates is very good and profitable for a king of France, whereby he is both stronger and better obeyed: but he complaines, That in his time there were men (as there are at this day) unworthie to possesse those offices which they held, who all they could hindered the holding of the Estates, least their evill behaviors and incapacities should be espied and knowne. Such men are of like humors, as the unworthie Emperours Caligula, Maximinius, Commodus, & others, whereof we have spoken above: which hated the Senat of Rome, because they would not have such correctors and controulers. I

Let us now come to Machiavell, to proove his Maxime, which we have aboue The coun­sell of ma­ny is better than the counsell of o [...]e alone. confuted by good reasons and examples. He alleadgeth two reasons: The one is, that if a Prince governe himselfe by one Counsell alone, it would proove dange­rous, for feare that the Counsellor seeke to occupie the Estate. Whereunto I an­swere, that that were considerable, if principalities were at this day given by tumul­tuarie elections of souldiers, as in times past the Romane Empire was given: for he that could obtaine the favour of the men of warre either by love or money, carried it away. But in our time, principalities are hereditarie, or are given by grave and deliberate election of more staid and discreet people, than were the Praetorian soul­diers of Rome. Yet doe not I approove that a Prince should be governed by one K alone, when he may have a greater number of good Counsellors: for they that have so done in times past, have found it evill, and have repented it, as more fully shall be shewed in the next Maxime. The reason also is evident, because one alone cannot so well by his wisdome examine and search out a matter or cause, nor so well can pre­vent difficulties, occurrents, & consequents that may happen, as many can do. Ther­fore also the wise Salomon approveth the counsell which is compounded of many.

[Page 29] The other second reason of Machiavell is, that he saith, That in a Counsell com­pounded A Discordant opinions comming to one end, is not to be feared. of many, there are alwaies discordances and contrarieties of opinions that they cannot accord. Whereunto I answer, That if a Counsell be compounded of good and fit men, they will alwaies sufficiently agree in their opinions (as experi­ence sheweth it in the Counsels of many Princes, and in the body of Common­weales) although they disagree in motives, reasons, allegations, and in other circum­stances. These discordances are often very profitable and necessarie, if so be they all looke to one end, which is the good of the Commonwealth. As happened in the Counsell of the Senate, which was held at Rome about that horrible and straunge conspiration of Catiline, who with his companions went about to destroy his coun­trey with fire and sword: For in that Counsell, Caesar reasoned so gently, as it seemed B he made small account of the matter; and in respect of his authoritie others after him reasoned in like manner, so mildly and gently, as Catiline and his partakers were in a good way to have been absolved. But when it came to Cato his ranke, he reaso­ned in another sort, yea, even plainely to rebuke such as spoke before him. ‘Great pi­tie it is (sayth he) that we are in such a time, when men attribute the name of wicked things to such as are good. Now is it accounted liberalitie to give the goods of a­nother man, it is magnanimitie to use violence and boldnesse, it is mercie and cle­mencie to plucke criminall and condemned persons out of a Iustices hands: And I pray you, is it so small a thing to have conspired our destruction, and the effusion of our bloud? Another crime might be punished after it should be committed: but C who should punish Catiline after the execution of his conspiration, and that we shal be all dead? They which before have delivered their opinions, seeme to be very libe­rall of our blouds, and of the bloud of so many good men within Rome, to spare that of a sort of wicked conspirators. If they be not afraid of this conspiration, so much the more (my masters) have we cause to feare, to watch, & hold us upon our guards, without too much trusting them which are in such assurance. For our auncestors have made themselves great, by diligence, justice, & by good counsell, free from all covetousnesse and viciousnesse. Vnto them which are vigilant, take paines and use good counsell, all things succeed well; but sluggards and cowards had need implore aid of the gods, for no doubt they are both contrarie and angry with them. And D therefore my advise is, that they which have confessed the fault, should die the death of their desert.’ Cato in this manner reasoning against the advise of others which had been before him, greatly to his commendation, drew the rest at the last to his opi­nion; yet not more to his honour, than to the dishonour of Caesar. So then it is not ever evill, that in a Counsell there should be sometimes Catoes and Appius Caludius and such like persons, which often hold strong against others: for affaires and busi­nesses are so much the better cleared and boulted out. It also holds other better in order, which otherwise by too great facilitie and fear to contradict, suffer themselves to be carried after the first opinion, without debate or due consideration. And truly, in all Counsels there are but too many such as were Valerius Publicola, Maenenius E Agrippa, Servilius, Pompeius, Caesar, and such like, which alwaies reasoned gently and mildly in all things: but too few Catons, Appius Claudius, Quintus Cincinnatus, and such like, which in Senates hold rigorous opinions. For although for the most part such rigorous opinions ought not to be followed, yet they being mingled and dispersed amongst others, theyr serve well to bring to passe a good resolution, and so doe make a good and sweet harmonie in a Counsell or Senat, as Titus Livius shew­eth [Page 30] in many places. And therefore contradictions of opinions, whereof Machia­vell F speaketh, are not so much to be feared in Princes Counsels. Against whose Ma­xime I conclude, That the Prince which governeth himselfe by the counsell of men that be wise, honest, and experienced, shall prosper in all good: & he that ruleth him­selfe by his own head, shall ruinate himselfe; as saith very eligantly the Poet Horace:

A Supreame power, devoid of Counsell good,
Fals of it selfe, as though it never stood.
Carm. lib. 1. Ode 4.
A Temperat power by God exalted is:
The Intemperat his hatred doth not misse. G

2. Maxime. H

‘The Prince, to shun and not to be circumvented of Flatterers, ought to for­bid Chap. 23 of the Prince. his friends and Counsellors, that they speake not to him, nor to coun­sell him any thing, but only of those things whereof he freely begins to speake, or asketh their advise.’

THe meanes to shun Flatterers, which doe nothing els but make lies, and report leasings, pleasing Princes eares (saith Machiavell) is, that he make knowne that he takes no pleasure in hearing of lies: but that it is more I agreeable unto his nature, that men should freely speake the truth. But because the Prince should too much de­base his Maiestie to yeeld an eare to every one that will utter a truth unto him; it is then requisite, that he take a third way: Therefore (saith hee) it shall bee good that the Prince hold alwaies nigh him some certaine number of vertuous people, vvhich may have libertie freely to tell him truth upon all such things vvhereof he demands ad­vise, and not of any other things. Forbidding and inhibiting them to K speake to him of any thing but of that vvhere of he himselfe hath be­gun the talke. After having understood their opinions, he ought to deliberat vvith himselfe, and chuse the Counsell that he shall find best.

[Page 31] MAchiavell making a countenance by this Maxime to counsell a A Prince not to serve himselfe with flatterers, teacheth him the very meanes wholly to be governed by them. For there is none more truly a flatterer, nor more dangerous, than he that seeth before his eyes a thousand abuses, and knoweth that his Princes affaires goe evill, and yet either will not or dare not open his mouth to let him know them: because herein lieth the principall dutie of a good and faithfull Coun­sellor to his Prince, to declare unto him the abuses committed by his subjects, be they Officers or privat persons, that with good Counsell he may provide therefore. The Prince knows not what is don [...] but by the mouth of his people. And to attend whilest the Prince himselfe begin the matter first to his Counsell, that should be in vaine: for he cannot propose, that which he knoweth not: and it is a B notorious and plaine thing, that the Prince (who is alwaies shut up in an house, or within a troupe of his people) seeth not nor knoweth how things passe, but that which men make them see and know. This was the cause wherefore Dioclesian com­plained so much of the flatterers of his Court, which keeping close the truth of things, fed him with smoke, and so by that meanes made him commit many great faults in the administration of the empire. But because that hystorie is worthy the marking, I will recite it at length.

The Emperor Dioclesian was borne in a little village, of a base and obscure race Pompo. Lae­tus in Diocl. Vopis. in Au­reliano. at Salon in Esclavonia: yet in his youth, and naturally, he was so ambitious and co­vetous of honour, that from a young souldier, he aspired still more higher, that he became a Captaine, and from a Captaine to be a Colonell, and from a Colonell to C be a Lieutenant generall and cheefe of the armie, and finally came to that great dig­nitie to be the Romane Emperour. When he was come to the soveraign degree of all honours, yet was his unsatiable ambition and covetousnesse of glorie unsatisfied; for being Emperor, he would needs be worshipped as a God, and made his feet be kissed, on which he ware golden shoes covered with pearles and precious stones, af­ter the manner of the kings of Persia. But who would have thought that he would have given over the emperiall dignitie, and so many honours as were done him? yet in truth he did forsake all this, and despoiled himselfe of his Empire, which he resigned to Constantius, Chlorus, and Galerius, and retired unto his house at Salon in Scla­vonia, D where he lived yet more than ten yeares a privat man, taking his pastime in gardening and rurall workes, and never repented him whilest he was a privat man, that he had despoiled himselfe of the Empire. But if this be so strange a thing, that a man so ambitious, and that so well loved the honours of this world, to rid himself of so great a dignitie, did become (as I may say) a Gardiner and a Labourer of the earth; yet more admirable is the cause wherfore he did this: For it was for no other cause, but for the hatred and evill will that he conceived against the flatterers of his Court, which a thousand waies abused him, whereunto he could not well give reme­die, he was so besieged betwixt their hands. This hath been written by many Hysto­riographers, yea, by Flavius Vopiscus, who placeth flatterers amongst the principall causes E of Princes corruptions. And because this place likes me well, I will translate it. ‘A man may aske (sayth he) What is it that maketh Princes so wicked & corrupt? First, their great libertie and abundance of all things they have: Secondly, their wicked friends, their detestable attendants, their covetous Eunuchs, their foolish and uncivile courtiers, and too plaine ignorance of the affaires of their Common­wealth. I have heard my father tell this, that the Emperour Dioclesian returning unto [Page 32] a private life, was wont to say, that there is nothing harder, than to know well how to F play the Emperour: Foure or five (saith he) will assemble and make a plot together to deceive the Emperour, after they will say all with one voice, what they will have him to doe. The Emperour, who is enclosed in his house, cannot know the truth of things as they passe, but by necessitie is constrained to understand nothing but what pleaseth them to tell him, and make him understand: so doe they cause him to give offices to men by themselves in post, which merit them not at all, and makes him cast out such as best deserve them for the good of the Commonwealth. What shuld be said more, to make short, saith Dioclesian, A good, wise, and vertuous Prince is bought and sold by such people.’ Behold the very words of Vopiscus, who evidently sheweth, that Dioclesian was discontented to be Emperour, because he was governed G maugre his beard (as they say) by flattering Courtiers, which caused him to abuse his estate. But I leave you to thinke, if this were not a straunge thing to see Dioclesian change his emperiall estate with a rusticke life, for the displeasure he tooke at his flat­tering Courtiers: for by the contrarie we commonly see, that Princes rather please themselves marvellously to see flatterers, and they cannot goe three paces, but they have them at their tailes, and more willingly doe they give their eares unto them than to good people which will tell them the truth of affaires that import their E­state. And he that will tell them this hystorie of Dioclesian, a man need not doubt but they will streight say he was a sot & a beast to forsake his dignitie of an Emperor for such a cause, and that he better deserved to be a gardiner than an Emperour. But H if they consider what was the end of Galba, of Commodus, of Bassianus, and of many other Romane Emperous, which by meanes of flatterers have had fearefull deaths, they will not esteeme Dioclesian such a foole to withdraw himselfe to a privat habi­tation, there to finish his dayes otherwise than by the hands of murderers. Yet I must confesse, that he might have done better, to have put away from him all those pestilent flatterers: and if to rid so many at once from the court, there had been great perill in so great a change; yet no doubt it was not impossible for him to have dis­patched them by little and little one after another, and then to have placed good people about him, thereby to have strengthened himselfe.

It is then seene by the saying of Dioclesian, that the Maxime of Machiavell is a I It is a per­nicious thing to hold the truth from the Prince. true precept of flatterie; and that there are no greater flatterers, nor more perniti­ous, than they that keepe close from Princes the truth of things as they passe. And truly, if the Prince have good Counsellors and servants, by whom he may be well advertised of all truths which may concerne his estate, and where he ought to pro­vide and give rules; although some lies by flatterers besowne amongst them, yet can they not corrupt the good government of the Prince: for truth hath al [...]aies of her selfe so great force, as she causeth lies to vanish away, as mists before the [...]un, so that alwaies they convert to smoke, without effect, if so bee the truth bee not hid in the Prince. And withall, flatterers and liers dare not open their mouthes, fearing to bee discovered in their evill purposes, when they know that the Prince hath nigh him K good and wise men, which will freely tell him the truth of all that concernes his estate, and which are beloved and credited of him.

By the Civile laws, he that knoweth any enterprise which tendeth to the domage L. quisquis. C. ad Leg. Iul. Mai. of his Prince, is bound to reveale it unto him, upon paine himselfe to be held cul­pable of treason. They then which are Counsellors and most especiall servants of a Prince, which are in a more particular obligation unto their maisters service than [Page 33] other Subjects are, ought not they to be reputed for traitors when they conceale the A truth from the Prince, of such things as pertaine to his charge and providence? If any answer, that all things for which the prince should provide, import not his ruine, being omitted: I reply, that it may be not his present ruine, but yet at length. For one fault and omission draweth an other after it; and that, an other; and so by little and little, the estate of the Commonwealth; and by consequent, the Prince fals into confusion. And yet although the omission of providing, in things where the Prince is bound to provide, doe not import his ruine and destruction, either present or at length; yet it must needs alwaies import damage to the Prince, or his subjects. And in everie case it is the profit and interest of the Prince, to give provision and rule therefore. For there cannot come but good, when subjects are well governed, B and that there is a good pollicie in all things.

Here may be damaunded, Seeing the good Counsellors of a Prince are so ne­cessarie, Princes love flatterers, & wherefore. and flatterers and evill Counsellors are so domigeable, from whence com­meth it that yet Princes are well attended on and garnished with flatterers, and have few good Counsellors about them? It seemeth that Maister Philip de Comines hath De Comines, lib. 1. cap. 21. well hit this marke: Saying that this comes to passe, because Princes alwaies seeke such as feedes their owne humors and please them best, and contemne such as are contrarie, although they may be more profitable unto them. For (saith he) such as have been nourished with a Prince, or which are of his age, or which can best or­der and dispose his pleasures, or such as apply themselves unto his will, are alwaies C in his good grace, and the first unto whom he disparteth and disperseth his authori­tie and great Estates. And a Prince never knowes how to chuse a wise man and of good counsell, untill he find himselfe in some great necessitie, and oftentimes hath most need of them which before he had despised: as I have seene (saith he) of the Countie de Charoloies and king Edward of England.

But upon this point riseth yet another doubt, Wherefore it is that flatterers doe rather please Princes, than wise men? Plutarch seemes unto me well to resolve this question: when he saith, That it proceedeth from this, that naturally men, but Plutar. de di­scr. adul. & [...] amici. especially Princes, do too much love themselves: And love of ones selfe obfuscateth and blindeth judgement, so that we can never truely judge that which we love. D From hence it followeth, that when a flatterer tels his Prince many goodly things to his praise, hee beleeves it, and persuades himselfe that there are many praise able things in him, although indeed there be nothing. And there helpeth to this Dionis. Hali. [...]ib. 9. persuasion, that the flatterer alwaies takes for the subject of his prayses, such vices as are in alliance and neighbourhood with their vertues. For if the Prince be Sainct in Catel. cruell and violent, he will persuade him that he is Magnanimious and Generous, and such an one as will not put up an injurie or despite. If he be prodigall, he will make him beleeve that he is liberall, and magnificall, that he maintaines an estate truly Royall, and one that well recompenceth his servants. If the Prince be over gone in lubricities and lusts, he will say, he is of an humane and manly nature, of E a Ioviall and merrie complection, and of no Saturnine complection or condition. If the Prince be covetous and an eater of his subjects, he will say, he is worthy to be a great Prince, as he is, because he knowes well how to make himselfe well obey­ed. Briefly, the flatterer adornes his language in such sort, that he will alwaies praise his Princes vice by the resemblance of some vertue nie thereunto. For the most part of vices have alwaies some likenesse with some vertue. The flatterer also on [Page 34] his part, will not forget to cover his owne faults and vices with the visage and like­nesse F of some vertue nie unto them. For he will cover his ambition with the zeale of the Commonweale, and will say, that for the Princes service, and that the affaires of the Commonwealth might be well governed, he accepted or pursued such an Estate, or tooke on him such a charge, which otherwise he would never have de­maunded or accepted. His covetousnesse he will cover with his Princes honour; and will say, that it should be no honour to his Maister (who is so great a Lord) to have a servant poore and contemptible. If he be vindicative, he will alwaies cover his vengeances with the Princes mantle, saying that the enmities he hath, is for the good services he hath done to his Prince, and that the Maister is despised and out­raged in the person of his servant. And so of all other vices. Insomuch that the G Prince who yeeldeth his eares to flatterers, shall alwaies so be dealt withall, that they shall beleeve vices to be vertues. And he will easily beleeve this, because (as is said) It is the nature of man too much to love himselfe, & by consequent to be blind in judging of himselfe, beleeving still his vices to be vertues. And contrarie, if the Prince heare a good man speake, which of an evill thing, tels him the evill, and of a good thing, the good; he shall never please him so well, as that flatterer. And from hence proceedeth the common proverb, which is as true as can be. Obsequium amicos, veritatem odium parere: To follow a mans pleasure and desire, gets friends, but the truth, hatred. And this is seene, not only in Princes, but also in particular and privat men. For say to a covetous man, or to a wicked usurer who eateth up his H Christian brother by excessive usuries, That he is a frugall, good, and wise husband, and that he well observes S. Pauls commandement, who wils every man to have care of his family, and if not care to gather togither goods for his children, he is worse than an Infidell; certainly you should be accounted his great friend, and he would take great pleasure to be so tickled in his vice. But if you say unto him, There is no charitie in him so to destroy and eat up his brother Christian whom he ought to love as himselfe, and that true charitie is joined unto faith, pittie, and all other vertues (as S. Paul saith) and that he that is without love, is without faith, without vertue, and is a verie Infidell; then have you lost him for ever, and he will be no more your friend; you have obtained his hatred for telling him the truth. I

But good people ought not to desist for that cause, to say the trueth both to The dutie of a good friend and servant to­wards his Prince. Princes and to privat persons. For truly, Truth is so goodly and expedient of her selfe (as Plato saith,) that not onely we ought to preferre her before the good grace favour and amity of men, but also before all things of the world. A good man then which loveth Truth, will imitate the example of Quintius Capitolinus, who one day making an Oration to the Romane people, after hee had liuely shewed them their Titus Livius lib 3. faults, in that they ceased not to tumultuate and disobey their Superiors, whereby some great disorder and confusion might fall to the common weale, added in the end these words: ‘Masters, I know well, that a man may utter more pleasant talke, and tell you of things more plausible; but as for me, my nature is not to flatter, and the pre­sent K necessitie causeth, that I loue rather to tell you true things, than pleasant: I have a good mind to please and content you, but I love much better, to preserve and guard you from falling into destruction, how little thanke soever I have of you.’ These remonstrances and words of this good man, were of such efficacy by the pure and native truth, which he shewed unto the people without any flatterie, that he appeased the tumults and discontentments of the citie. And as to Princes men ought not to [Page 35] spare to speake truth: and that they may not take delight to be praised by flatterers, A they must shew them; that whosoever praiseth any man (be he Prince or other) in his presence, is a flatterer: he must set before them, the example of that good and wise Emperour Alexander Severus, who tooke pleasure in hearing the praises of great Lampri. in Alex. Spart. in Nigro. Princes which had bene before him, but would never heare his owne. And greatly praised that saying of the valiant Romane captaine Pescentius Niger, who as one day a certaine Orator would needs haue pronounced an Oration called Panegerica, in his praise, ‘Go thy way (saith he) and write the praises of Marius and Anniball, and of other old and valiant Captaines, that we may imitate them: for it is a pure mockerie to praise such as do yet live, and especially great Princes, of whom there is hope and feare, and which may bereave a man of both life goods and libertie: as for B me, whilst I am alive, I will do good and approved things; and after my death, then let me be praised.’ The Emperour Alexander then alledged this notable sentence of captaine Niger, and would by no meanes be praised in his owne presence. So like­wise when men used to salute him, he would not suffer them to use titles and salutati­ons of flatterie: As, God conserve thy Divinitie, thy sacred Maiestie, thy Clemencie, (which since have been in use,) but they must say onely, God keepe thee Alexander: And they which did otherwise, or which would use too many ceremonies in their sa­lutations, were streight mocked and hissed at, yea, forced out of the Emperours chamber. But indeed willingly he would be saluted of none but of good men, and of good reputation. Insomuch, as he caused an edict to be published, whereby hee C inhibited and forbad upon great paines, that none should dare to present himselfe before his face, which knew himselfe to be, or indeed was of evill fame & reputation. Moreover, they must shew to Princes, That it is the goodliest thing in the world to know himselfe. For besides that the knowledge of our selves leads us to the know­ledge of God, it makes that men (although they be great Princes) acknowledge themselves alwayes men, that is to say, subject to faile and to do evill, to follow evill, to leave that which is good, to be ignorant of good things, and to know many evill, and to practise them. For these qualities are common in all men generally. So that he that knowes himselfe a man, will also know and acknowledge himselfe apt to fall and offend, and so will he abate his pride; wheras otherwise it would mount and arise D by the foolish and hyperbolicall praises of flatterers.

Moreover, as it is very requisite and necessarie, that wise men which are nigh the Prince, should use a free libertie, to tell him the truth of all things which concerne him: so must they doe it with all modestie, accompanied with the honour and reve­rence that God hath commanded us to beare unto Princes, as to his lieutenants. For that Cynicke libertie of some Philosophers, which knew not how to reprehend and shew mens faults, but by taunts and bitter biting speeches, are not to be approoved; as did that foole Diogenes, who ridiculously and triflingly talked with king Alexan­der the Great, as if he had spoken to some simple burgesse of Athens. And Calisthe­nes, Plutarke in Alex. whom Alexander led with him in his voyage unto Asia, to instruct him in good E documents of wisedome; who indeed was so austere, hard, and biting in all his re­monstrances and reasonings, as neither the king nor any others could take in good part any thing that he taught. It is then very much expedient (if a man mean to ga­ther fruit, and do good by his speech) to use gentle and civile talke and persuasions, especially if he have to doe with a Prince or great man, which will not be gained by rigor (or as they say, by high wrastling) but by mild and humble persuasions. And [Page 36] above all, men ought well to engrave in princes minds, that notable answere which F The diffe­rence of a friend and a flatterer. captaine Phocion made unto the king Antipater, who had required some thing of him which was not reasonable: ‘I would (Sir) doe for your service all that is possible for me, but you cannot have me both for a friend and a flatterer: as if he would say, That they be two things farre different, to be a friend and to be a flatterer, as in truth they are.’ For the true friend and servant of the prince, orders and frames all his acti­ons Plutarke de discri. adul & amici. to the good of the prince, and the flatterer tends and bends all his actions to his owne proper good: the true friend loveth with a true love his prince, and the flatterer loveth himself: the true friend modestly sheweth his vices in his presence, and praiseth his vertues in his absence; but the flatterer alwaies exalts the prince in his presence, rather for his vices, than for his vertues, and behind his backe he bla­meth and defameth him, vaunting and saying, that he governes him at his plea­sure, G and that he possesseth him, and makes him doe what hee will: the true friend persevereth in the service of his prince, as well in time of adversitie as prosperitie, and the flatterer turnes his backe in time of adversitie: the true friend serves for an healthfull medicine to his prince, but the flatterer for a sweet poison: the true friend conserveth his prince in his estate and greatnesse: but the flatteter precipitateth him into ruine and destruction, as we shall discourse the examples of al these things hereafter.

Moreover, when we say that flatterers are pernicious to a prince, that is not ment of all them which dedicate and give themselves to please the prince: for there may H well be Gentlemen of his owne age about him, to accompany him in his honest pa­stimes, as to ride, hunt, hawke, to tourney, to play at tennis, to run, and other like pa­stimes, which doe not evill to give themselves to please him in such things: but con­trary, it is right necessary and requisit, that the prince have sometimes such compa­nie. For it should not be good nor comely (in defect, and for want of plaies and pa­stimes) hee should to himselfe procure an habit of a Stoicall humour; neither that he should get a complection too severe and melancholicke. Hereof we read a very remarkable example above others in Alexander the great, king of Macedon: When he departed from his countrey to passe into Asia, to make war upon that great Do­minator, king Darius, he had with him most cheefe in his love amongst others, Cra­terus I and Hephaestion, two gentlemen, his especiallest friends and servants, yet farre Plutarke in Alex. different the one from the other: for Craterus was of an hard and sharpe wit, severe, stoicall, and melancholicke, who altogether gave himselfe unto affaires of Counsell, and indeed was one of the kings cheefe Counsellors: but Hephaestion was a young gentleman, well complexioned and conditioned in his manners and behavior, of a good and quicke wit, yet free of all care but this, to content and please the king in his sports and pastimes; insomuch, as men called Craterus the kings friend, and He­phaestion the friend of Alexander, as one that gave himselfe to maintaine the person of his prince in mirths and pastimes, which were good to the maintenance of his health. When Alexander had conquered Persia and Media, he begun to apparrell K himselfe after the Persian & Median manner, the rather to gaine the hearts of those nations newly conquered: Hephaestion to please the king, did the like, leaving the Ma­cedonike manner, to apparrell himselfe, as the Persians and Medes did, for which the king liked him the better: but Craterus kept alwaies his old fashions of Mace­donie, and much blamed that change of fashions in their apparrell, and said it was but even to barbarize, and begun to taunt and gibe at Hephestion for it. This their [Page 37] contrarietie of manners, was a cause that they entred farre into enmitie and quarrels; A insomuch as one day thēy came unto the drawing of swords one against another, and streight assembled their friends on both sides; wherby had falne out a great mu­tinie, if the king himselfe had not come in good time, hearing a great noise of peo­ple, and seperated them, presently & openly rebuking Hephaestion, calling him foole and mad man; he tooke also privatly aside Craterus, and told him; he greatly marvel­led, that he being a wise man, would so hate Hephaestion for so small a thing. After­ward, he agreed them, & publickely delared unto them, that they were the two Gen­tlemen which most he loved in the world, but if any more they fell to quarell again, hee swore by Iupiter Amon, that with his owne hands he would slay him that begun. But after that, they did nothing one against other. Hereupon I say: That it is necessary B for a Prince to have such as Craterus, for his counsell, and it also becomes him well to have such as Hephaestion, to keepe him companie in his honest pastimes.

But to the end men may better discerne such as are good friends and servants from flatterers, I will now (God willing) discover the examples of many sorts of flat­terers, which for the most part have had in singular observation, that Maxime of Machiavell, namely: To hold close from the Prince the truth of things: and the bet­ter to distinguish them, I will call them with such names as our auncestors have cal­led them, which are very proper and covenable unto them. First, there are a sort of flatterers, which our auncient Frenchmen called janglers, which signifieth as much Ianglers. as a skoffer, a trifler, a man full of words, or (as we call them) long tongues, which by C their jangling and babelings in rime or in prose, such as do give themselves to please great men, in praising and exalting them exceedingly, & rather for their vices, than for their vertues. These be they which by their fair language, can make (as one saith) of a Devill an Angell: but in the meane while, they so enchant men, and swell them up so with pride, that in effect they make them become even Angelicall Devils. This sort of flatterers were banished and driven out of Fraunce in the time of Philip Au­gustus, Annal. up­on the year 1104. as persons serving for nothing but to vanities and corruptions of manners; unto which, Princes and great Lords gave gifts, which might better have been em­ployed upon Gods poore. And therfore that good king made a vow; that he would from thenceforth give to the poore, all that which before he and his ancestours had D given unto janglers. And to the end that other Lords of the court should follow his example, and that they might have no more occasion to give any thing to the said janglers, he banished them all, as is said, from the court.

Such flatterers in truth are very pernicious; for seeking too much to exalt and lift up Princes by praises, they are causes to mount them into pride and unmeasurable fiercenesse, which after brings their destruction. So came it to Iulius Caesar. For Dion & Plutar. in Caesar. & Sueto. in Caes. cap. 78, 79. Lucius Cotta, Coruelius Balbus, and such like janglers, being nigh & about him, ever persuaded him, first to name the moneth (which then was called Quintilis) with and by his name, Iulius, which he did, and ever since was it called Iuly. After that, they would needs make him a Temple, to make him be worshipped as a god, and they E called him Iupiter in his presence; they also persuaded him to take the name and crowne of a king, which he was determined to doe, if he had not been prevented by death. When the Senators came to speake with him in his house, he would not arise to meet them, but those flatterers hindered him; neither would they permit him to rise out of his chaire to salute them, saying he was Caesar, the soveraign Prince of the Common-wealth, and that all others ought to honor him, and not he them. These [Page 38] things which Caesar did against his will by the persuasions & constraint of janglers, F gathered unto him hatred and evill will of all the Senate, insomuch, that some Se­nators conspired against him, and slew him even in the Senat house.

Caius Caligula a certaine time was a good Prince, but the janglers he had about Suet. in Ca­lig. cap. 22. 51. Ioseph. Antiq. lib. 18. cap. 15. him, by their unmeasurable praises made him become (as saith Suetonius) a mon­ster: they caused him to take titles of Pitions, The Sonne of Campes or Hoasts, Most good, and Most great Caesar: and in the meane while they made him become the most cruell, the most coward, and the most wicked tyrant in the world. He tooke a desire after all those goodly names and titles, yea to take the name of a King, and to weare a crowne: but his flatterers shewed him, that the name of an Emperour was much more than a King: therefore from thence forward he attributed to him­selfe G a divine honour. So gave he commandement, that men in temples should set up images of him through all the world, which were subject to the Romane Em­pire: Insomuch, that the Governour of Iudea, called Petronius, would have pla­ced an image of Caligula in the great temple of Ierusalem, but the Iewes would not suffer him, which extreamely detested images, whereby there had like to have beene a great sedition: but in all other provinces of the Empire it was executed without contradiction. Yet not contented that his images should bee in all places adored, this detestable monster would many times goe and place himselfe in per­son betwixt the two images of Castor and Pollux, in the Temple which was conse­crated to them at Rome, and there made himselfe to be worshipped in the middest H of the said two gods, which hee called his brethren. Moreover, he caused a Tem­ple to be builded and consecrated, where he made his image to be erected, which was of gold, and caused it every day to have on such like apparrell as he wore him­selfe, and founded in that Temple, Priests for his service, and to offer up unto him rare and precious Sacrifices, as Pheasants, Peacockes, and other like birds and beasts, farre fetched every day. Sometimes went hee into the Capitoll, Iupiters Temple, and there would come unto the image of Iupiter, and make a counte­nance to talke with him, and speake in his eare, and then would lay his owne eare to Iupiters mouth, as it were to heare his answere: sometimes would hee lift up his voice, and taunt and rebuke Iupiter: and after hee was departed from thence, I then said he that he had spoken with Iupiter, and had obtained that hee asked. I pray you what will you here say? Is it possible in the world to dreame or imagine a more extreame folly, or a pride and arrogancie more abhominable and enra­ged. Behold to what point janglers brought him. But this was not all: for see­ing himselfe thus adored, he fell persuaded, that no man durst ever enterprise any thing against him, and so committed he a thousand cruelties, and strange and hor­rible wickednesses, such as easily a soveraigne prince might doe, which spends his time and power in all excesses, wantonnesse, and riotousnesse; wherein he ne­ver cea [...]ed to wallow and tumble himselfe, till he was suddainly massacred and slain: which was a just and merited recompence vnto him, because he so lightly beleeved K flatterers and praisers.

You must thinke, that whilest these janglers handled thus their maister, leading him to such follies, that they themselves were merry and joyfull, to see him so gover­ned after their fancie: yet was there not laughter for them all, and to speak of them which did not laugh, is so much the better fit to make others laugh. First then was Dion in Caio Caligu. one Macro, who seeking to come in favour and good grace with Caligula, not onely [Page 39] he employed himselfe to praise and exalt the Emperour; but also he set on his wife, A called Ennea, to make her fit and handsome to gaine the good grace of that young Prince, commaunding her to refuse him nothing. For such people, to come to the end they purpose, care not therein to employ their honour and that of their wives, even so far as themselves, to be very bauds. She then obeying Macro her husband, did so much by her journeies, that she entred into Caligula his amitie, and her selfe disco­vered unto him, how well her husband loved him, and what commaundement hee gave her. Insomuch, that Macro, as well by the meanes of his wife, as by his owne jangling, was a good time in credit. But one day he had done something that plea­sed not Caligula (as to breake a glasse, or some other like fault) and this foolish Em­perour caused him to be called. When he came he said: ‘Come hither Gallant, did B not you commaund such a thing to your wife? doe you not know well, that it is a thing punishable by our lawes, to be a baud to his owne wife? You must die: and so constrained him to slea himselfe, without hearing any excuse or defence.’

There are yet two others, which received no lesse, and I will tell you how. The Emperour Caligula, being one day sicke in his bed, these janglers came to visit him. The first was one Afracanus Potitus, who being nie the Emperours bed, seemed to be verie sad and sorrowfull for the Emperours disease, and amongst other adulatorie talke, he said unto him: I would (Sir) it would please the gods that I might die for the recoverment of your health; for I make a vow to the gods, that I would die with as good an heart, as ever I did anie thing. The other called Afracanus Secundus, C said likewise to the Emperor: O, would it pleased the gods, that I might to utterance go skirmish with the Sword plaiers, to be slaine of them for your majesties health: For I sweare by the gods, that I would willingly employ my selfe for your recoverie. Caligula answered them nothing at that time; but when he was whole, he sent for them both: and being come, he said unto them. ‘Maisters, my good friends, I am made to know, that you are verie devout to the gods: For since the other day that you came to visit me, and that you vowed your lives to the gods for my health, I have soone recovered it, as you vowed unto me: But fearing a relaps, and againe to fall into my disease, if you accomplish not your vow, I have sent for you to make you die, praying you not to take it in evill part.’ And withall, without attending their D answere, he commanded the Captaine of his Guard, to dispatch them. This foo­lish Emperour, after those janglers had made him become such a beast and madde man, did never good thing but this. But in regard of the execution of these three flatterers, they encountred the best of the world: for they which had made him become a foole, merited well to receive part of his folly.

But certaine it is, that this sort of flatterers which are so prodigall of praises, will not spare all honourable titles towards the Princes unto whom they addict them­selves, whilest they are in their presence; but behind their backs, they mocke them, Dion in Ne­ron. and speake a thousand evils upon them. Teridates, brother of Vologaesus king of the Parthians, in the time of the Emperour Nero, came to Rome with a great retinue. E As soone as he was arrived, he fell on his knees before Nero, his hands together tending towards heaven, said in this manner. Sir, I, which am the Nephew of the great king Arsaces, and brother of the king Vologaesus and Pacorus, am thy humble servant and slave, and am come hither to worship thee as my god: for I can be no­thing but what it pleaseth thee. Thou hast done well (answered the Emperor Nero) to come unto me to enioy and have fruition of my sight, and of my presence: ‘For [Page 40] that which thy predecessors did not leave thee, I give it thee, and make thee at this F present, king of Armenia; that thou maist know, that it is in me to give kingdomes, and to take them away.’ After this word, he put a crowne on his head, and invested him with the kingdome of Armenia. After (for a pastime and sport for this new king) plaies were appointed, wherein Nero would needs make it appeare, how well he could play upon the citharon, and indeed plaied amongst the common plaiers. Also he thrust himselfe amongst carters cloathed in greene as they were, to shew, that in Lists he could also tell how to handle chariot horses. After this Teredates the new king of Amenia, being retired into his lodging, mocked Nero, and spoke infinit evils of him, calling him Carter, Citternier: and further said, he mervailed how they could suffer at Rome such a master and Lord. When he was before Nero, G he held and respected him as a god; but when he was out of his presence, he detested him as a monster. I aske of you, if such a flatterer deserved at Nero his hand, such a present as a kingdome.

Prusias king of Bithynia, was a flatterer like Teridates. For one day comming to Titus Livius lib. 5. Dec. 5. Florus lib. 50. Rome, a little after that Paulus Aemilius had vanquished king Perseus of Macedon, he made certaine Senators understand, that he had a desire to enter into the Senat, to know his masters and superiors, whose enfranchised slave he said he was, and to congratulate with them their victorie. To enter the Senat was granted him. When hee approached the palace where the Senat assembled, hee fell on his knees at the doore, and kissed the doore lintell; after, rose up and entred into the hall where the H Senators did sit; being there, he made great reverences, calling the Senators, his gods, and his saviours, and desired leave to go into the temples of the gods in Rome, to make offrings and sacrifices to their gods, for the victorie which the Romans have gotten of the king Perseus. This also was graunted him. But hee was mocked and despised of all the companie, for this so great and exorbitant humilitie and flatte­ring which hee made unto vertuous people, which tooke no pleasure in flatterie. This was a king of no worth, a coward and man full of vices (as commonly all such people are, which cover their adulations with so extreame humilitie) and in the end was slaine by Nichomedes his sonne, who made himselfe king.

Lucius Vitellius (father of the monstrous Emperour Vitellius) was such a flatterer I Sueto. in Vi­te. lio, cap. 2. as Prusias: for knowing that the Emperour Claudius, suffered himselfe to be much governed by Messaline his wife; to come to his good grace and favour, he came unto this Madame his wife, and praied her for the honour of the gods, that it would please her to grant him a gift, whereby he should for ever feele himselfe bound to doe her most humble service, as her humble slave. The Empresse demanded, what gift he desired: It is Madame (said he) that it would please you to put out your feet, that I may pull off your shoes. It may bee supplied in the hystorie, that this was at some houre when Messaline meant to put off her shoes either to goe lie downe in her bed, or to wash her feet (as the Elders used much to do,) Messaline could not re­fuse him this so honorable and excellent a demaund, proceeding from so generous K and heroicall an heart, and indeed suffered him to plucke off her shoes. But what did my man? After he had drawne off her shoes, he tooke one of them smiling, and kissed it three or four times in the presence of this Madame, and caried it away with him. He ordinarily bore the shoo or startup in his bosome, and wheresoever hee came, he shewed it to the people, kissing it, saying, That the Empresse had done him that honor & favour, to give it him in pure & free gift, and that he bore it in his bo­some, [Page 41] and kissed it every day for her honour. What should a man say unto this fil­thie A drudgerie and slaverie?

I will yet set downe one other example of janglers, from a gowned man or Sena­tor, and then we passe on: for Senators and Lawyers may as well be flatterers as o­thers; although they should shew better example, because commonly they are wi­ser. You must then vnderstand, that in the time of the Emperour Tiberius, many were accused for light matters, said or done towards the Emperour; because they knew he tooke pleasure in such accusations. Amongst others, one day there was ac­cused Vitellio Sue­ton. in Top. 5. in a full Senate, of treason, a Romane Knight called Lucius Ennius, because he had melted a silver image of his owne, which represented the Emperours image, to make some other worke for his owne vse; you may thinke what an huge crime B this was, and how men should find it evill for a man to do with his owne at his owne pleasure. The Emperour Tiberius seeing that this accusation had no colour in it, and that it was but a mockerie, to call it a crime, much lesse a crime of treason, he forbad that the Knight should be criminalized for it. Yet Atteius Capito a Senator and a great Lawyer, but a very flatterer, rose up, and as upon a free libertie of speech, he used these words to the Emperour. ‘Sir, we are here assembled in the Se­nate, where every one hath libertie, freely to vtter his opinion, for the good and uti­litie of the common-wealth; we beseech you, not to take from us the power that we haue, to punish such as commit crimes against the common-wealth; and pardon not you alone, that injurie, which is done to all. For what a despight and contempt C is this, for Ennius, that he dare found and cast into the fire, a Princes image? ought not he, rather to have kept it by him, as an holy and sacred thing, & to have reveren­ced it, for the honor of him, whose representation it was: this shews, what heart and affection he beares towards his Prince, and that if he could, he would do as much vnto him, as he doth to his Image. For he that reverenceth the gods, reverenceth also their images. Had he not otherwise enough, whereof to make his silver vessel, but to melt for it this sacred Image? hee would not do so much with the images of Brutus and Cassius; for he honoureth them in his heart, and would well at this day find the like, which might enterprise the like disloyaltie against our good Prince, as they did against Caesar. Our Lawes will, that in crimes of treason, the least appa­rant D suspition, sufficeth to condemne the accused. And it is the great interest and profit for the common-wealth, rigorously to punish such, as never so little attempt against the Prince: vnlesse a man will say, that the body hath not to do, neither nee­deth to care when the head is wounded and offended. And therfore I conclude, that justice be executed vpon Ennius, as a man attainted and culpable of treason.’ The Emperour Tiberius, although he was cruell in such matters, knew well, that this faire opinion of the Lawyer Capito, was but a meere flatterie, which he vnderstood better then he vttered: therefore notwithstanding the said Capito his remonstrance and o­pinion, he persisted in the Inhibitions before made, that the knight Ennius should be no more vexed nor endangered about that matter. And the abovesaid Tacitus E saith, that Capito by this his goodly opinion, acquired a great infamy and evill repu­tation to himselfe, greatly dishonouring both the knowledge of the civile Law, humane and good letters, wherewith he was excellently endowed. Vpon this point I note that which master Philip de Comines well saith: That Lawyers and great lear­ned Comines, lib. 1. cap. 24. men are very fit to be about a Prince, and of his Counsell, if they be good men; but being otherwise, they are very dangerous: For they can so wel paint and set out [Page 42] their language, alledging lawes and histories, which every man understandeth not, F that often they take euill conclusions. But when they be good men, they may mar­ueilously order and conduct matters which are handled in Counsell, and bring them to a good resolution: as may be proved by infinit examples out of Titus Livius and other Hystoriographers: which I will not here accumulate, because it is from our determined purpose.

In the ranke of janglers, may well be placed the Poets of our time; which by their Poesies full of flatteries and lies, seeke to hooke in some abbotship or priorship, or Poets, jan­glers. some other such gift, in recompence of their adulations. I confesse, that a Poet may and should take more libertie to write the praises of some one man, than an Oratour or an Hystoriographer: but when praises are so hyperbolicall, as they rather fall out G to be the dishonour than the honour of him of whome they are written, then are they not any thing tollerable. I will take for example but the Epitaphes which were imprinted at Paris a little after the death of king Charles the ninth: There, those goodly Poets say, That the king before he died, overthrew more monsters than ever did Hercules, in shedding so much bloud of his rebellious subjects: That he died like Sampson, who at his death pulled downe and overthrew the pillers which hee had in his armes, and the house, upon himselfe; so in Fraunce, justice, pietie, and religi­on died with him: That France had been his stepmother: That there was in him an exceeding great cunning in all arts and sciences, and that he was also very expert in divers handicrafts: That the king (Henry his brother) that now raignes, succeeded H him as Castor to Pollux, as one god to another god: That king Charles died a martyr of Iesus Christ, and that from thenceforth he ought to be invocated as a Saint. I pray you is there any man of sober judgement, which doth not plainly see, that such speeches become rather men void of wit and understanding, by some extreame af­fection of flatterie, than these gallant Poets, which are drawne on and led with a ge­nerous and right Poeticall spirit? for meaning unmeasurably to praise, there escapes from them, that they speake things redounding to their dispraise: and if the dead king were alive, he would not thanke them for such praises. For a good Prince (as Ho­race saith of Augustus) ever rejecteth such foolish praises.

To purpose ill, shall never goe my verse I
To Caesars eare: for as his deeds appeare,
So would he, I his praises should rehearse:
Too much his praise detesteth h [...] to heare.

And indeed it is common to all good and vertuous people, not onely to reject excessive praises, but also to hate, as flatterers and liers, all such as use them: as Euripi­des witnesseth, saying:

A good man, praise too great cannot abide: K
But hates that thing, which puffes him so with pride.

If those goodly Poets before they had made their Epitaphs, had well read Virgil and Horace, they should have found, that these two excellent Poets writ in many Aenead. 6. Hora. lib. 4. Carm. Ode 5. 15. places the praises of Augustus. But wherefore do they praise him? For that he esta­blished a good peace in all the Romane Empire, he caused justice to flourish, hee [Page 43] brought the people into a good repose and assurance, and reduced againe the gol­den A world. They praise him also, because he amplified and enlarged the Romane Empire. But they speake not one word of the civile warres: nor for that hee over­threw Cassius and Brutus, doe they either praise or despraise him. And indeed (as Plu­tarch sayth,) They are pitious triumphs which are made upon civile bloud. These Plutarch in Caesar. Epitaphers then should learne to praise a Prince, as they ought to doe, and as the elders have done. But when they say that our dead king died like Sampson, and that with him died also pietie and justice, which he carried in the devise of his two pil­lers; do they not plainely blame the kingdome at this present of impietie and inju­stice? as if justice were not now so good, nor religion in so good estate, as in the time of the dead king; or as if they were or could bee made worse: yea contrarie, every B one seeth with his eye, that justice and religion are still in as good estate in France, as before that the king died, and that they are now so well governed, as they cannot waxe worse. And when they say that France was a stepmother unto the dead king; is not this injuriously to blame the French nation? Wherein hath Fraunce appeared unto him a stepmother? Because there were rebels against the king, say they. They which they call rebels, denie they are such: and in truth when edicts were maintai­ned and observed, they were seene to be very obedient. But let it be so, that there were in France some rebellious subjects; must therefore all the nation bee blamed and be called their kings stepmother, seeing there is no nation in the world more obedient than the French to his Prince? And as for that great cunning in arts, and C the meanest mechanicall sciences, which those Poets attribute to our dead king, are not they goodly praises thinke you? As if it were some goodly vertue in a Prince to make a coffer, or to paint gourdes (for which we reade that the emperor Adrian was mocked) or to make some such like things. But contrarie, the Poet Virgil describing Aeneid. 6. what kind of Princes the Romane Princes should be, he wils they should have no knowledge in the mechanicall arts: onely they should learne (sayth he) the Science well to command, to governe, to vanquish, to pardon, to make lawes and edicts, and to establish good manners and customes upon the nations under their governance. In like manner, the prophane comparison of Castor and Pollux, where one god succeeds another god, how unfit a speech it is for a Christian? If Princes at this day D will beleeve janglers, they make themselves to be adored upon the altar in the mid­dest betwixt two Saints, as was Caligula betwixt Castor and Pollux. But ynough is spoken of janglers, and of their janglings, and of their too too impudent and strange praises.

Let us now come unto Marmosets. A Marmoset, according to the language of Marmosets. our elders, is as much to say, as a reporter, murmurer, whisperer of tales behind ones backe in Princes and great mens eares, against one or other, which be false, or else ought not to be reiterated or reported. And it seemes unto me, that this name of Marmoset is verie proper and fit for such people, and that it meriteth well to bee againe called backe in use. And I beleeue it is drawne from hence that such people, E go marmoting, murmuring and whispering secretly in Princes eares flattering spee­ches, which they dare not speake clearly and on high before the face of him whom they detract and speake evill of. These people are worse, and farre more perilous than plaine raylers, scoffers, jesters, or janglers, whereof we have before spoken: for carrying the countenance of good servants and friends, they make the Prince beleeve that they serve him as spies, to marke and seek out the designes, evill purpo­ses [Page 44] and carriages of their secret enemies, to the end he may not unawares be surpri­sed F of them, and that no evill may come unto him. And because (saith Comines) Comines, lib. 1. cap. 9. 56. Princes are almost all suspitious (for doubts and feares that are put into their heads by advertisements) they easily beleeve Marmosets and reporters. Yea some Princes (saith he) promise them that they will say nothing nor discover any thing, which is one of the greatest faults that a Prince can commit. For besides that, in all men (be they princes or privat persons) the auncient proverb hath place (which saith) That the sinewes of Wisedome is, not to beleeve lightly: yet is it a thing as particularly required in a Prince, to stop his eares to all reports, unlesse the reporter will be well knowne, and sustaine the punishment of a slaunder, in case his report be not found true. And thereupon the Prince ought to make diligent inquisition to have the G truth well averred, when the thing is waightie and meriteth it. And he may not be satisfied with a light information thereof: but he ought to heare him which is char­ged or blamed before he beleeve any thing. And if the thing be not of great con­sequence and import him much, as if they be but words spoken (as it often happe­neth) lightly in some pleasant talke, or at the table, or in choler, the Prince ought to despise and make no account of such words, but as talke uttered in an immoderate bable, and without thinking or considering thereof. For there is no man so perfect that can so bridle his tongue, but there will often fall words without consideration, which after when he thinkes of them, wisheth he had never spoken them. And this imperfection which is in all men ought to be supported of some towards others, H and Princes ought rather to beare them then particular persons, for two reasons. The one, for that he is more subiect to receive reports, than privat men: so that if he easily deliver his eare unto them, he shall see a thousand griefes and displeasures, and shall be in continuall doubts and feares. The other reason is, because all Prin­ces ought to consider, that men speake more of them than of anie privat person. For there is neither great nor little, but he will meddle to speake of Princes, yea to judge of their actions, and everie man to utter his follies of his good or evill beha­viours. What should Princes then doe? It is impossible to bridle their tongues, and if they should be forbidden to speake, they would speake the more. Seeing then both great and small doe ordinarily speake of Princes, yea more then of other I things, it is impossible that in such abundance of talke there should not be alwaies much evill, and he that would set foote therein, should binde himselfe to an infinite paine, from whence he should not know how to get out. For the tongues of men are so ready and quicke workers in their trade, that they will frame more businesses in a day, then a thousand commissaries by their enquiries know how to dispatch in a yeare. Therefore the Prince which contemneth words spoken without due delibe­ration, and such other things as are not of importance, and which forbiddeth that no man shall report unto him such matters, shall in such things doe that which is most covenable and agreeable unto his gravitie and majestie, and in so doing, he shall shew himselfe more magnanimous, and in heart more generous, neither fea­ring, K distrusting, or doubting any thing. Such an one was that great Augustus Caesar: for one day as one pleaded a criminall cause before him against Aemilius Aelianus, the accuser amongst other crimes maintained, that Aelianus accustomed to speake Sueton. in Aug. cap. 5. evill of Augustus, and to detract and slander his Majestie. Augustus then making a countenance to be angry, returned towards the accuser, saying. ‘Is it true that thou saiest that Aelianus hath spoken evill of me, I would well thou couldest prove it, for I [Page 45] would then cause him to know, that I have a tongue as well as hee, and would say as A much and more evill of him than hee hath done of me.’ This poore accuser seeing Augustus make no more account of it, was much ashamed, and wished after, that he Capitolinus in Marco. had never advaunced such an accusation. Such was also the Emperour Antonius Pius, with whom, the murmurations which Marmosets blew in his eares, could not take place, and he made no account of them. As one day, Lucilla, the mother of Marcus Antonius, the Philosopher (which Pius had adopted for his sonne) being in a chappell upon her knees before the image of Apollo, Valerius Omulus, who was a Marmoset, addressing his speech to the Emperour Pius: Behold (sayth he) Lucilla makes her prayers to Apollo, that thou might quickly finish thy dayes, that her sonne might raigne: But the Emperour Pius reprooved him for such talke, and told him, B that Lucilla and Marcus Antonius his sonne, were too good to think such a thought. So generally we read, That all good emperours, such as the abovesaid, and Traian, Adrian, Nerva, Alexander Severus, and others like, have not onely hated and de­tested, but also chased and banished farre from the court, reporters and relators of false tales.

But as I before said, It becomes not a Prince to make account, but rather to con­temne A word spoken in hast ought not to be regarded. Froiss. lib. 4. cap. 6. words not spoken by good deliberation. And to that purpose will I rehearse a Iudgement which was given and recorded in full counsell of king Charles the sixt, whereat were his Vncle the Duke of Burgoigne, the Conestable, the Mareschals of France, and many other great Lords of the Kings privie Counsell. Master Peter de C Courtnay an English Knight, being one day at the Court of the King of France, offe­red a chalenge unto a French knight, called Guy de la Tremouille, by deeds of armes to trie, who was the stronger knight and best in armes: la Tremouille had no desire to refuse him: so that by the consent of the King, and of his Vncle the Duke of Burgoigne, and in their presence, and before many other great Lords, they ranne a launce one against the other and no more, for the King would not suffer them to go any further: the English knight was evill content thereat, but yet without making other countenance, desired leaue of the King to returne into England, which the King graunted, and gave him for his conduction, and guide for his assurance unto Calais, the Lord de Clary a french gentleman, one renowmed and of great valour. D As they went by the way, the english gentleman desired to go by Lucen, to salute the Countesse of S. Paul the King of Englands sister, who dwelt there, who gently re­ceiued them and made them good cheere: talking and speaking of newes, as the custome is. This English told the Countesse, that hee could not find in France a knight with whom to do deeds of armes, and that he would never haue thought but to have found in the Court great store, covertly taxing thereby the french Nobili­tie. Clary his conductor marked well his words, but he spake not one word whilest he came to Calais: being there, Clary angerly said vnto Courtnay; Messira de Courtnay, I have acquited my selfe of the charge which the King my Lord gave mee for your conduction to this towne; now that I haue no more charge of you, I thinke good E to remember you of certaine words you delivered at Lucen, to Madame the Coun­tesse of S. Paul, where you said, you could not find in France a knight, with whom to do deeds of armes, thereby taxing the noble knighthood of France: therefore to maintaine with you the contrary, I offer my selfe to do deeds of armes with you, in what maner you will choose, prouided that you can obtaine of the governour of this towne for the king your master, a permission & place to do them. The said permissi­on [Page 46] and place was granted, and they so fought that Clary wounded M. Courtenay in di­vers F places. This came to the King and his Vncles notice: Clary was sent for, who for his defence said, that that which he had done, was to maintain the honor of France, and alledged many faire reasons: whereby it seemed, that not onely he ought not to have been blamed for that he did in that case, but that rather he merited to bee al­lowed and praised. The matter was handled in the kings Counsell, & by judgement and decree Clary was condemned to prison for a certaine time, and in the meane while his goods were seized into the kings hand, and little there wanted he was not banished France: but a certaine time after, the king pardoned him, at the intercessi­on of the Duke of Bourbon, and of the said Countesse of S. Paule. And at his deli­verance, was made knowne unto him the morive of the kings Counsell, which was G this: That the kings Counsell thought him worthy that punishment, because a light and rash speech delivered in familiar talke, he would revenge as a serious and weightie matter. If this decree were well observed (as it merited to be) we should not see so many quarrels, murders, and suits for our words rashly and undiscreetly spoken. And it should be a thing much better becomming Christians, not so easily to feele words preferred and spoken upon suddaine motion, than in so scrupulously se [...]king points of honour, to enter into contentions and quarrels; whereby we make demonstration, that we are nothing lesse, than that we would appeare to be. For we would, that by our quarrels and going to law upon an overthwart and rash speech, men should account us of great heart, that we have our honor in singular commen­dation H and estimation: and in the meane while we discover our selves in effect to be of a pusillanime, base, and feeble heart, that wee cannot despise and contemne a word of no account, pronounced in hast. Was that great Emperour Augustus Cae­sar, and many other, ignorant, what were the points of honour? yet were they most magnanimous, and had their hearts so noble and generous, as they never tooke footing upon any words spoken, without good consideration, but despised and held them at nothing.

The sentence of the wise man is verie true: That slaunderers or false reporters, Prov. 18. are like secret wounds which go downe into the bowels. For as we see that wounds and impostumes which arise within mans body, are almost all mortall, and blowes I with a sword and other outward wounds, are much more likely to be healed: so the words of detraction, of blame, and of slaunder that are tolde in the eare, bring often destruction, either to the reporter, or to him to whom they are reported, or to him of whom they are spoken, either els to all together, as I will shew by many approo­ved examples. But when such words are openly spoken in the presence, or at the least to the certaine knowledge of him whom they touch; there is place to purge and justifie himselfe, and to have recompence by justice, or by reconciliation, ob­tained and mediated by friends; so that seldome comes any ruine of either one or other.

The Emperour Claudius was much ruled by Messaline his wife (which was one K Sueton. in Claudio, cap. 37. Dion in Claudio. of the most intemperate women of her time) and by the high Steward of his hous­hold (whom he had enfranchised) called Narcissus, who had too good intelligence with Messaline. This good Lady was amorous upon a faire young Romane Gen­tleman, called Appius Sillanus; but he fearing the Emperour, would not any thing yeeld unto the petulancie and wantonnesse of the Empresse. What did she? seeing his refusall; she and Narcissus plotted together seperatly, and one after another, to [Page 47] tell the Emperour, that they had dreamed sleeping: That there entred a man into A the Emperours chamber to slay him, which was verie like Sillanus. And they re­solved to tell him this dreame in a morning when they came to salute him; at that time also they tooke order that Sillanus at the same houre should enter, to the end the Emperour (who was fearfull) upon his feare he should have of the rehearsall of the dreame, and of the present sight of Sillanus, might commaund to slay him. This enterprise being thus made, Messaline sent to Sillanus (as from the Emperour) that he should not faile to come unto him the next morning at his arising, for a certaine affaire whereof he had to speake with him. The next morning came Narcissus be­fore day, and knocked at the Emperours chamber doore, and it was opened un­to him; beeing entred and counterfaiting a great astonishment approched the B Emperours bed; and seeing him, said: The gods be praysed, that that is not come to passe which I dreamed in my bed (Sir:) how diddest thou dreame, said the Em­perour? Sir, said he, I dreamed that Appius Sillanus had slaine you about this houre, and awaking upon it, I straight come to tell you; for sometimes dreames are ima­ges of true things, and are not to bee despised. The Emperour, who was naturally fearfull, begun to be troubled: the aforesaid Madame also, tooke her course to the Emperours bed-side, faining also a great amasement, who incontinent told her, Narcissus his dreame; she withall making admirations at it: Oye gods, behold a strange thing! all this night I have done nothing but dreame, that I saw a man verie like Sillanus, which would needs have entred hither for some wicked enterprise. The C emperour seeing the concordance of those dreames, his feare was redoubled, espe­cially because Messaline told him, that that was the onely cause of her rising so time­ly: for that this vision was ever before her eyes, that shee could not rest at her ease. Vpon that talke, Sillanus came and knocked at the dore: the Vsher which kept the chamber dore, came to tell the Emperor, that Sillanus was there, and would speake with him. Messaline and Narcissus then made a shew of feare and great wonder­ment, and told the Emperour, that it were good to command streight to slay him, least he were slaine himselfe. The Emperor Claudius, which trembled for feare, and was exceedingly troubled in his mind, beleeved them, and commanded to slay that honest gentleman. Behold how by false reports, yea, by the report of a dreame ma­liciously D devised, this noble person lost his life. And it is to be marked in this hysto­rie, that these false reporters customably have this subtiltie, to trouble a princes sen­ces, if they can either with feare, or anger, or by some other meane bring that which they would to their purpose.

The Emperour Severus had two sonnes, Bassianus and Geta, which he caused to Sparti. in Anto. Carac. Herod. lib. 3 & 4. be instructed the best he could possibly, and equally loved them both, and ordained them both to be Emperours together after him: for alreadie they had experience, that Marcus Antonius and Lucius Verus were together Emperours in good con­cord, and after then Dioclesian and Maximian, Maximus and Balbinus, Theodosius and Honorius, Constantius and Galerius, Valentinianus and Valens, and many others: E which hath shewed, that a soveraigne principalitie is not incompatible of two in consort and fellowship, as is accounted. Severus then being in this purpose to leave the government of the Empire to his two sons together; flatterers about them dis­posed it otherwise: for they ceased not daily to make false reports of the one against the other, making one understand, that his brother had such and such talke of him, and that he aspired to be alone Emperor after his father, and that it were good [Page 48] to provide betimes, and that it were better to prevent, than to bee prevented: and F alike the flatterers of the other, said as much to the other, and more if they could: insomuch, that those two young princes fell into so great and mortall enmitie one against the other, that not onely the one hated all the friends and servants of the other; but also even to death they hated all them which would have agreed them. As soone as Severus their father was dead, Laetus, which was one of the Marmosets of Bassianus, persuaded him to slay his brother Geta, and to feine that he was assailed by him. This counsell was found good of Bassianus, who was audacious ynough, and readie with his hand to give the blow: so that one morning he entred into Iulia the Empresse her chamber, mother of Geta, whome hee found there, and slew him betwixt his mothers armes, who was all bloudie with the bloud of her sonne. Incon­tinently Bassianus got him out, and went to find the souldiers of the guard, seeming G to be much troubled and escaped. Maisters (said hee) I have escaped faire; my bro­ther would have slaine mee, but I am gotten out of his hands: I pray you let us to the campe, and keepe you me companie, for I am not well assured here. The souldi­ers, which knew nothing of the blow he had given, beleeved it was true, and follow­ed him, much greeved that his brother Geta had so enterprised upon him. Being in the campe, hee gave them all great summes of money (for Severus had left great treasure) and made them sweare they would be faithfull unto him. So that when af­ter they knew the deed done, and found themselves all gained and corrupted with silver, they obeyed him without contradiction, as to one sole emperour. And what H came of all this? Bassianus not ignorant, that the Senate of Rome would find this murder very strange that he had committed of his brother, desired that great lawy­er Papinian, who was his kinsman, and had beene as the Chancellor or great maister under the Emperour Severus, that he would goe to the Senate, and make his excu­ses by an Oration well set out: That he had done well to slay his brother, and that he had reason and occasion to doe it. Papinian (who was a good man) answered him, That it was not so easie to excuse a parricide, as it was to commit it. Bassianus gree­ved at this refusall, caused one of his attendants straight to cut off his head. After this, willing to shew to the Senate and to the people, that he greeved because he had slaine his brother, and that they might see it was done by evill counsell, he caused al­so I his Marmoset Laetus his head to be cut off, who had counselled him to doe that murder: he caused also to die all them which helped him in that businesse, & which were culpable thereof, saying, that they were cause thereof. This notwithstanding to the end Geta his friends should enterprise nothing against him, he made die as many as he could catch of them. So that under that title of being a friend, servant, or fa­vourer of Geta his brother, he made die many great and noble persons: yea, he slew all such as caried themselves betwixt them two, as neuter and reconciliators. I pray you what was the cause of all this great and horrible butcherie? was it not the mor­tall enmitie which these Marmosets had sowne betwixt the brethren.

In the time of the Emperour Commodus there happened a like thing: and be­cause K Dion & Lamprid. in Commod. He­rod. lib. 1. the hystorie is memorable, I would rehearse it a little at length. Marcus Anto­nius the Emperour was surnamed the Philosopher, because he was a prince, wise and studious, and a lover of good letters. In his time there were great plentie of wise and learned men, because commonly (saith Herodian) men doe imitate their prince, and give themselves to such things as the Prince loveth. There was alwaies about him a great number of good and learned people for his privie Counsell, which hee called [Page 49] his faithfull friends, as the king of Fraunce also at this day dooth call his privie A Counsellors in his pattents. This good emperour being in Hungarie, at the warre with Commodus his sonne, fell into a disease, whereof he died. But before his death hee caused his Counsell to assemble, and to recommend his sonne unto them, & made a little remonstrance, worthy of such a Prince, in this manner. ‘I doubt not (my good friends) that you are not anguished and sorrowfull, to see me of this dis­position. For humanitie causeth, that easily wee have compassion of mens adversi­ties, but especially when we see them with our eyes. But yet in my regard, there is a more speciall reason: for I doubt not but you beare mee alike good will, to that which I have ever borne you. But now is the time for me to thanke you, that you have alwayes been unto me good and faithfull Friends and Counsellors. And I B pray you also not to forget the honour and amitie which I have borne you. You see, my son, which you your selves have nourished, who now entreth into the flower of his youth: who as he that entreth into an high sea, had need of good Patrones and Governours, least by ignorance and evill conduction, hee stray from the right way, and so come into perill. I pray you then, my friends, whereas he had no more fathers but one in me; be you many fathers unto him, that he may be alwaies made better by your good counsels. For truly, neither the force of silver and treasures, nor the multitude of guarders can maintaine a prince, and make him be obeyed, unlesse the subjects which owe obedience, doe beare him good affection and be­nevolence. And assuredly they onely raigne long and assuredly, which ingrave and C instill in their subjects hearts, not a feare by crueltie, but a love, by bountie. For they ought not to bee any thing suspected to a prince, in that they doe or suffer which are drawne to obedience by their owne will, and not by constrained servi­tude. And subjects will never refuse obedience, unlesse they bee handled by vio­lence and contumelie. Very true it is, That it cannot bee but hard for a soveraigne prince, who is at his full libertie, moderately to guide and bridle his affections. But if you alwayes admonish him to doe well, and to remember the words which hee heareth now of me, that am his father, I hope you shall find him a good prince towards you and all others. And in thus doing, you shall manifestly shew, That you alwayes have mee in remembrance, by which onely meanes you may make D mee immortall.’ Vpon this speech, his heart and his word failed with languish­ment, and then all his Counsellors which were there, begun to weepe & lament, yea some could not containe from crying, for great sadnesse and bitternesse of heart that they had, to see so good a prince faile. After his death Commodus his sonne and successor in the empire, governed himselfe some little time by the good people and auncient Counsellors of his father: but this continued not long: for there were straight, Marmosets, which found subtill meanes and entries to get into him, which when they saw their time, begun to say unto him: What meane you to tarie in this base and barraine countrey of Hungarie, better it were for you to bee at Rome, to have all the pleasures in the world: you have no cause to beleeve these tutors which E your father left you; you are no child, to bee governed by tutors. Commodus, who was a faire young prince, and one that desired nothing but his pleasures, and who yet had no great resolution (although his father had taken great paines to instruct him wel) begun to let himself to be led with Marmosets, which never spoke anything unto him but of merry and pleasant things. So made he a shamefull and dishono­rable peace with the Barbarians, against whom his father had commenced warre, [Page 50] and retired to Rome: being there, he begun to become cruell, especially against the F good and auncient counsellors of his fathers, which hee caused almost all to die, at the instigation of his Marmosets, which reported unto him; that they bore him no good will; that they blamed his actions, and controuled his pleasures: He caused al­so many Senatours to die, which his reporters for the same reason disgraced. A­mongst other Marmosets, he had one called Perennis, which persuaded him to care for nothing, to take his pleasures, and to let him alone with the charge of his af­faires. Commodus was glad thereof; and to plunge him into all lubricitie and wan­tonnesse; Perennis provided for him three hundred concubines and harlots, and as many slaves. Having cast him into this gulfe and destruction, hee tooke upon him the affaires of the empire, and begun to make stay, and confiscate the goods of all such as he bore no good will unto, and unto such as contradicted his doings, and G sold justice for money. So in a little time made he himselfe very rich; but this endu­red not long: For in a warre which the Romanes had against the Englishmen, hee cashiered the Senatorian captaines to bring into their places simple knights, which all the Romane armie much disdained; insomuch, that they cut Perennis in peeces, as an enemie of the commonwealth. Cleander was another Marmoset, who suc­ceeded in his place, who at the beginning made some shew, that hee would doe bet­ter, but incontinent he did worse: for practising many cruelties; he sold the estates and governments of provinces to them which would offer most. There happened at Rome a great famine and a pestilence withall. The people (which alwaies lay the H cause of publicke calamitie upon the Governors) bruted abroad, that Cleander was the cause of this plague and famine, and that therefore there was cause hee should die. Cleander to stop this brute and fame, & to cause the people to hold their peace, caused all the emperours horsemen to be armed, and in both the suburbes & towne to rush through the people, slaying and wounding innumerable. But the people be­gun to take houses and fight from the windowes so well, that the said horsemen were constrained to retire. Fadilla, (the Emperour Commodus his sister, seeing this civile warre commensed and raised by Cleander within the town) went to find her brother, whom shee found in the brothelhouse amongst his harlots, where he tooke his pa­stimes: and all bewept, she fell on her knees before him, saying: ‘Sir, my brother, I you are here taking your pleasures, and know not the things that passe, nor the dan­ger wherein you are: for both yours and our blood is in perill, to bee altogether ex­termined by the warre and civile stirre which Cleander hath raised in the towne: He hath armed your forces, and hath made them rush against the people, and hath brought them unto a slaughter more than barbarous, filling the streets with Roman blood. If you doe not soone put to death the author of this evill, the people will fall upon you and us, and rive us in peeces.’ Saying these words, she tore her garments, and was very sad, yea, as it were desperate: many also which were present, encreased the feare of Commodus by their persuasions, insomuch, that he fearing greatly some great danger to himselfe, sent in hast for Cleander, who knew nothing of this com­plaint. K As soone as he was arrived, he caused his head to be cut off, which he caused to be carried on a pikes point through the towne, in such sort, that the sight of that head did appease the stirre of the people. After this execution, Commodus (who had acquired infinit enemies by the meanes of his Marmosets) determined with him­selfe at once to cause a goodly execution to be made, because hee would not often returne thereunto (which is one of Machiavels precepts, whereof wee shall speake [Page 51] in his place) and for that purpose made two rowles of the names of such as he would A cause to die, one of which was entituled La dagne, the dagger: and the other L'espee, the sword. These two rowles by hap fell into the hands of Laetus who was one of his Marmosets, and of Martia, one of his courtizans, which found themselves first in a rowle. They then seeing the danger nigh and evident wherin they both were, con­ferred together, & resolved rather to slay than be slaine. Martia tooke the charge to poyson him, which she did; but Commodus, who had eaten & drunken too much, was provoked to vomit, and with all that cast up his poyson: which Laetus and Martia seeing, caused him to be strangled in his bed. Behold here the end wherunto Peren­nis, Cleander, and other Marmosets brought their masters, and the end they made themselves, and the great evils, and slaughters of good people, whereof they were B the cause. Thinke you not that this is a goodly example to all kings & princes, to keepe them from suffering themselves to be governed by reporters and flatterers? The emperour Commodus was one of the most noble and illustrious rase in the world, a goodly and personable prince as was possible, who was neither subtill nor malicious of his nature, the sonne of the best prince that ever was, who brought him well up, and left him a great number of wise and prudent men, well to govern him, and towards him had gotten the favour and good will of all the world. Yet these Marmosets and flatterers brought him to a miserable end, and raigned but a while, and died young.

The emperour Severus had on his Counsell, one Vetronius Turinus, whome hee Lampri. in Alex. C judged to be a good man, but he prooved to be a very Marmoset: for before the em­perour he dissembled well, and knew well how to carrie hie countenaunce and beha­viour, but behind his backe he vaunted, that he governed Alexander Severus at his pleasure; & that he caused in the Counsell-chamber, such resolutions as he thought good of. The solicitors of the court which had businesses in the princes consistory, understanding that Turinus said he had there so great credit, failed not to wait upon him, to recommend unto him their affairs. What dooth he then? he marchandiseth with all the parties contending, and every one promiseth a good summe, upon con­dition to make him obtain that which he seeketh for, as he promiseth to al, yet none knoweth any thing one of another. Turinus notwithstanding never speakes for the D one nor the other, but only giveth his voice in the Counsell, as others doe which be there: but alwaies it came to passe that the one or the other obtained the cause, so that he payd him the summe that he had promised him: and as for the other partie he let go, finding some excuse why he got not his demaund. After that Turinus had a certaine time used this occupation, To sell the hopes and decrees of the princes privie Counsell, his dealings were discovered. Alexander incontinently sent him to prison, caused his processe or indictment to be made; which found against him, hee was condemned, as a seller of smoke, to be tied to a piller, and there to be stifled with the stench and smoke of dung and karion, heaped up & kindled nigh the said piller. Behold the reward that this Marmoset Turinus received, for the false reports hee E made against the princes honour and his Counsels.

Enough is spoken of the Marmosets of the Romane emperors: let us now speake of our French Marmosets. In the time of king Charls the sixt, le bien aime, by Marmo­sets Annal. upō Anno 140 [...]. Monstre. lib. 1, cap. 22. and Reporters, a great enmitie arose betwixt Lewis duke of Orleans the kings brother, and Iohn duke of Burgoigne, conte of Flanders, of Artois, and lord of many other lands and territories. Our hystories name not these Marmosets, but simply [Page 52] say, that their houshold servants incited them to band one against another: the F duke of Orleans his servants and favourits said, and said truly, That he was the chiefe prince of the blood, the kings only brother, also more aged and of riper and more staied wit than the duke of Burgoigne; and that therefore he should not set his foot before him in the handling of the kings affairs. For at this time, the king having not perfect sences, his affairs were handled with the princes of the blood, and the privie Counsell: but contrarie, the duke of Burgoigne his Marmosets, said, That he was the chiefe peere of France, and as they cal it le Doy en des Pairs; that he was more migh­tie and more rich than the duke of Orleans; and although he was not so neere of the blood Roiall as he, yet was he more neere by alliance; (for the Dauphin, who was yet very young, had espoused his daughter) and therefore he ought in nothing to give G place unto the duke of Orleans, but that hee ought to maintaine and hold the same ranke, that Philip duke of Burgoigne (his deceassed father) did, who whilest his father liued, governed the king and the kingdome at his wil. Briefly, these tatlers and repor­ters caused this duke of Burgoigne so to mount into ambition and covetousnesse to raigne, that he enterprised to cause the duke of Orleans to bee slaine, who hindered his deseignes and purposes: and indeed he caused him to be most villanously massa­cred and slaine at Paris, nie the gate Barbette, by a sort of murthering theeves which he had hired, as the duke of Orleans went to see the queene (who had lately bene brought to rest of a child.) Great domage there was for that good prince, for he was valiant and wise as possible one might be. Of him descended king Henry the second, H now raigning, both by father and mother. For king Francis his father was sonne of Charles, duke of Angolesme, who was son also of Iohn, duke of Angolesme, who was sonne of the duke of that Orleance, and Madame Claude, queene of Fraunce, mo­ther of the said king Henry, & was daughter of king Lewis the twelfth, who was son of Charles, duke of Orleance, who was the sonne of this duke Lewis, whereof wee speake. I would to God princes his descendants would well marke the example of this massacre, most horrible, which was committed upon the person of that good duke, their great grandfather, and the great evill haps and calamities which came thereof, to shun the like miseries which ordinarily happen, when such murders goe unpunished. For (because the duke Iohn of Burgoine was not punished for this fault, I but found people which sustained and maintained it to have been well done (as we shall say more at the full in another place) and that followed his part, stirring up ci­vile warres, which endured two generations, and caused the death of infinit persons in France, and that the English got a great part of the kingdome, and that the poore people of Fraunce fell into extreame miserie, povertie, and desolation) there were many causes and meanes of so many evils; for injustice, ambition, covetousnesse, desire of vengeance, and other like things, might goe in the ranke of causes of so many mischeefes. But the Marmosets of duke Iohn of Burgoigne, were they which stroke the yron against the flint, out of which came that sparke of fire (a device fatal­ly taken by the duke of Burgoigne) which brought into combustion and into a bur­ning K fire all the kingdome for so long time, and at last ruinated the house of Burgoigne.

Francis, duke of Bretaigne (a prince that was a good Frenchman, and affectionate Monstre. lib. 3. cap. 4 & 33. to the king of France his soveraigne) had a brother called Gills, who gave himselfe to the English, in the time that they made warre in France, and accepted of the king of England the order of the Garter, and the office of high Constable of England. [Page 53] The duke and his brother much greeved hereat, found meanes to take him prisoner, A and put him in a strong castle, whereunto he would never goe, to heare, or see him, he so much disdained him. But yet he sent men unto him, which hee trusted, which indeed proved very Marmosets and false reporters: for after Giles of Bretaigne had remained within the castle a certaine time, and that he had considered well his do­ings, that he was borne the kings vassale of France, and that he ought never to have disunited himselfe from his brother; he then praied his brothers people, that came to see him, to tell him from him, that he greatly repented what hee had done, and that if it pleased him to pardon him, that from thence forward he would follow with a good heart the part of the king of France and his; and that if it pleased them, hee would streight send to the king of England his Order, and Constables sword. What B do his Marmosets then? They report to the duke, that Giles his brother was still ob­stinate, and so perfect English, that no reasons they could make, could turne him unto that side. The duke sent still many times the same men unto him, but alwaies they made the like or worse report of him: insomuch, that this good duke, fearing that his brother was invincible in his obstination, fearing also, that if hee should let him loose, he would cause the English to come into Bretaigne to avenge himselfe, commanded the same reporters to strangle him in prison: which they did. After­ward (as God when he seeth his time, brings the most hid things to light) these mur­dering reporters could not hold, but discover the truth of the matter, and that Giles of Bretaigne would have done any thing that the duke his brother would have had C him to doe: which comming to the dukes eares, he was nigh out of his wits for his brothers death, and caused the reporters to be hanged, and to die with great and ri­gorous paines and executions. Behold the end of Giles of Bretaign, and the reward which such Marmosets received, which were cause of his death. Hereof Princes may note a rule; Not to beleeve too easily reports made of men, without hearing them, but especially when it toucheth life.

One day before the emperour Adrian, there was one Alexander, which accused I. 3. 9. idem. Diu. D. de Testi. 6. of certaine crimes one Aper, and for proofe of those crimes, he produced certaine informations in writing against Aper, which he had caused to be taken in Macedon. Adrian mocked at it, and said to Alexander the accuser, that these informations D were but paper and inke, and it might be made at pleasure: but in criminall causes we must not beleeve witnesses in writing, but witnesses themselves, in hearing, inter­rogating, and confronting them with him that is accused. Therefore hee sent the cause and the parties to Iunius Rufus, Governour of Macedonie, commaunding him to examine diligently the witnesses, and take good advisement, whether they were good men, & worthy of credit: and if Alexander the accuser could not prove well his accusation, that he should banish him to some place. This commandement of the emperour Adrian hath since been marked by the Lawyers, which since made a law thereof. Behold how men must proceed, when it lies on mens lives, and not to beleeve Marmosets and reporters, neither beleeve papers, without seeing or hea­ring E witnesses, and the accused, & without searching whether the witnesses be good men, or no, as is done at this day: for at this day there is nothing wherof magistrats make a better market, than of mens lives. But let us passe on. Froissart, lib. 2. cap. 173. & lib. 3. cap. 63, 68. and other fol­lowing, and lib. 4. cap. 92. &c.

I would now rehearse an example truly tragicall, of king Richard of England, who was sonne of that valiant and victorious prince of Wales. This king came to the crowne very yong, and had three good uncles about him, the duke of Lancaster, [Page 54] Yorke, and Glocester, by whose counsell for a certaine time hee governed well his F kingdome. But the earle of Suffolke (whom the king made duke of Ireland) entred so farre into the kings favour, that he governed himselfe after his fancie. Then took he occasions to talke so of the kings uncles, as was very strange: for he told him, that his uncles desired nothing, but to deale in the affaires of the kingdome, to obtaine it to themselves, a thing which they never thought. And did so much by his reports, that the king put his uncles from his counsell, and from dealing with any of the af­faires of the kingdome: whereof the people, and especially the Londoners were so evill contented, that they rose up and made warre against the king, or rather against the duke of Ireland, and they were at a point to give the battell one against the other. But the duke of Ireland, who was generall of the kings armie, lost his courage with G great feare, that he had to be slain or taken, and therfore fled & passed into Flanders, where he finished his dayes, never after returning into England. As soone as he was fled, his armie was dissipated, & the kings uncles seized upon the kings person, & esta­blished a new Counsell, & by justice executed some of them which were of the duke of Ireland his adherents. A longtime after, another Marmoset, called the earle Mar­shall, gained the duke of Ireland his place, and was so farre in the kings good grace, that he governed all as he would. One day (this earle Marshall talking with the earle of Darbie, eldest sonne of the duke of Lancaster) the earle of Darbie chanced to say: Cousin, what will the king do? will he altogether subject the English nobilitie? there will soone be none: it is plainely seene, that he desireth not the augmentation of his H kingdome. But he held this talke, because the king had put to death & chased away a great number of gentlemen, and caused the duke of Glocester to die (a prince of his blood) and yet continued in that rigour, to make himselfe be feared, and reven­ging still, that which was done in the duke of Irelands time. The earle Marshall an­swered nothing to the speeches of the earle of Darbie, but only marked them in his heart. Certain daies after, he reported them to the king, and to make them seeme of more credit, he profered, and said hee was readie to enter into the campe against the earle of Darbie, to averre the said words, as outragious & injurious against his Ma­jestie. The king not measuring the consequence of the deed, in place to make no ac­count of these words, sent for the earle of Darbie, his cousin germane, and after hea­ring I before him the earle Marshall speak his wil was, they should enter into the camp, and fight it to utterance. But the kings Counsell conceiving it might come to be an­evill example, such great lords to slay one another, and that the earle Marshall was not of equall qualitie unto the earle of Darbie, they counselled the king to take ano­ther course, namely, to banish from England for ever the earle Marshall, because he had rashly appealed and challenged unto single combat a Prince of the bloud, & to banish also the Earle of Darbie for ten years only, for speaking the aforesaid words of the king his lord. The king following the advice of his Counsel, & by sentence given by himself, banished the earle Marshall out of England forever, & the earle of Dar­bie for six years only, moderating his Counsels advice foure years. When the earle K of Darbie came to depart, there assembled in the streets before his gates at London, more than fortie thousand, which wept, cried, & lamented his departure, & extream­ly blamed the king and his Counsell: insomuch, that going away, he left in the peo­ples hearts an extreame anguish and greefe for his absence, and a very great amitie towards him: yet notwithstanding he left England, and came into France. Whilest he was in France, the duke of Lancaster, his father, died. The king to heape up his [Page 55] evill lucks, caused to be taken & seized into his hands all his lands & goods, because A they fell to the earle of Darbie. Hereby hee got great hatred and evill will of the Nobilitie, and of all the people. Finally, the Londoners (which are a people easie to arise) made a complot and part against the king, and secretly sent word to the earle of Darbie, that hee should come, and they would make him king. The earle arriving in England, found an armie of the Londoners ready. So went he to besiege the king Richard in his castle unprovided, whom he tooke and imprisoned, and cau­sed him to resigne unto him the Realme and Crowne of England. King Richard was put to death in prison, after hee had raigned two and twentie yeares: a thing very strange, rigorous, and unheard of in England or in any kingdomes nigh unto it. And so the earle of Darbie, who had beene banished from England, remained a B peaceable king, and was called Harry the fourth of that name. This earle Marshall, who kept at Venise, knowing these newes, died ragingly. This was the end of this Marmoset, and the tragicall evill hap whereunto he brought his master, and that upon words reported, which were never spoken, as any evill speech of the king: but onely for the greefe hee had, that they of his Counsell governed so evill the king­domes affaires. Which words should nor ought not to have been taken up nor re­ported to the king, and being reported unto him, he should have made no account of them, & to have alwaies presumed rather well than evill of his cousin Germane.

Herodes, borne of a lowe and base race, was created king of Iudea, Galalie, Sa­maria Joseph. An­tiq. [...]ib. 14. cap 23. & lib. 15. cap. 9. & li. 16. cap. 3, 4, 13. & lib. 17. and Idumia, for the favour of Marcus Antonine a Romane capitaine, and by C decree of the Romane Senate, he espoused a noble Ladie, who was of the kings race of that countrie called Mariamme, by whom he had two children, Alexander, and Aristobulus: but Herodes had a sister called Salome, who was a very Tisiphone, and served for nothing but to kindle and light fires in the kings court, by false re­ports which she invented; and this infernall furie did so much, as she perswaded the king her brother that Mariamme sought to poison him by his cup-bearer, and brought out certaine false witnesses to proue it: so that the king beleeved it, and put to death his wife, one of the fairest princes of the world, and of whose death there was after, infinit griefes and repentances. But as one sinne draweth after it another, Salome fearing that those two aforesaid children would feele afterward, D the outragious death of their mother, she machinated and resolved in hir spirit that they must also dye. So began she straight to forge false reports, false tokens, and false accusations, insomuch as she perswaded Herodes the father, that these two children Alexander and Aristobulus spake alreadie of revenging the death of their mother, and by the same meanes to vsurpe the kingdome. Herodes suffering himselfe to be persuaded by the calumniations and slaunders of his sister Salomē, tooke his iourney to Rome, having his two children with him, where he accused them to have fought his death, before Augustus Caesar, he began to descipher his ac­cusatorie oration, and to deduct & set out the means, whereby he pretended that his two children should go about his death. When it came to their turne to speake for E their defence, they began to weepe and lament. Caesar knew well thereby that the poore children were full of innocencie. So he exhorted them from thence for­ward to carry themselues in such sort towards their father, that not only they should not doe against him any thing vnworthy or greevous, but also should doe so much as to bring themselves farre from all suspition. He exhorted also Herodes, to use his sonnes well, and to keepe them in his favor. Then fell the children on their [Page 56] knees before their father with great effusion of teares, crying him mercy, by which F meanes they were reconciled unto their father. But after the returne of Herodes and his children, this furie Salome (not contented with this reconciliation which Caesar had made) began to lay new ambushes by false reports that she made to Herodes, wherein she mixed some truth, to give the better taste: Herodes who was very credu­lous in such matters, made Augustus understand, that his children had againe con­spired his death. Augustus answered him, That if his children had done against him the thing which merited punishment, that he should chastice them as he thought good, and that he himselfe gave him power and permission so to do. The abovesaid Herodes joyful to have received this power, being led with an irreconcileable rage, by the meanes of Salome, caused the two poore children Alexander and Aristobulus to G be strangled. Salome ayded her selfe in all this businesse, with one other sonne of Herodes, borne of another woman called Antipater. God would that Herode should discover, that the accusations against his two dead children were but slaunders, and that Antipater (who had aided to forge them) had himselfe conspired to poison his father. Whereupon he caused him to be called before Guintius Varius, the gover­nor of Syria for the emperour. The cause being long pleaded and debated, Anti­pater could not purge himselfe of the sayings and proofs against him: and did no other thing but make great exclamations, nothing appertaining to the matter, holding on, that God knew all, unto whom he recommended his innocencie. Varus seeing that he could not wel justifie himselfe, wished Herodes to imprison him, and so H he did. Certaine dayes after, Herodes fell sicke, which comming to the notice of An­tipater in prison, he rejoyced greatly. Herodes advertised that Antipater wished his death, and rejoyced at his sicknesse, sent one of his guard into prison to slay him, which he did. Five daies after, Herodes died like a mad man, for the evill haps he had in his children, and this rage lighted a fire in his entrailes, which rotted him by little and little, wherupon engendred worms, which eat him alive, with horrible languish­ments before his death. And who was the cause that Herodes thus contaminated his hands and all his house with the bloud of his owne children? Even that most wicked reporter Salome, who devised false accusations and slaunders which she blew in the king her brothers eares. I

Besides those kind of flatterers, whereof we have spoken above, which are jan­glers Coūsellors flatterers. and Marmosets, there is yet a third kind, which under the name and title of principall Counsellors, and under the pretext and colour of conducting the affaires by good counsel, they abuse the princes authoritie, who are greatly to be feared. To shun the mischeefe that may come therupon, there is nothing better than to follow the precept of Comines, namely; That the king have many Counsellors, and that hee Comines, lib. 1. cap. 27. & lib. 2. cap. 44. never commit the conducting of his affaires to one alone, and that he hold as nigh as he can well, his Counsellors equall. For if hee commit much more to one than to another, he wil be master, and the others dare not reason against him freely, or els knowing his inclination, dare not contradict him. Therefore in a criminall cause K handled before the Senate of Rome against a gentlewoman of a great house, called Lepida, accused of treason; the emperour Tiberius (although he were very rude in Cornel. Taci­tus, annal. lib. 3. & li. 5. such cases) would not suffer his adoptive sonne Drusus to reason first, least (sayth Ta­citus) thereby had been laied and imposed a necessitie for others to have consented unto his opinion. And in another cause of like matter, where Granius Marcellus was accused in a certaine place to have set his owne image above the emperors. When [Page 57] the cause came to handling; Piso (whose opinion the Emperour desired first) began A thus to say: ‘And you (Sir) in what place will you reason? for if you reason last, I feare that by imprudencie I shall not dissent from you.’ For that cause Tiberius de­clared, that he would not reason at all: & indeed the accuser was absolved, although the Emperour had shewed a countenance to be angry against him, as he heard the accusation rehearsed. And there is no doubt, but that the counsell of one alone is Counsell of one alone dangerous. perillous to the prince, because naturally men are divers waies passionate, and that which shall be governed by one alone, is often by passion guided. Also the indispo­sition of mens persons causeth, that every one hath not alwaies his head well made, (as they say) nor are wise at all seasons; and mens spirits, as well as their bodies are journals, and have their viscicitudes and changes: for from the wisest sometimes doe B escape absurd and strange opinions. An example hereof may well be Charles, duke of Burgoigne then earle of Charolois: hee having made a peace with the towne Com. lib. 1. cap. 27 & 20. of Liege, went soone after to besiege Dinant, a towne nigh the other. They of Liege going against the treatie of peace, made readie an armie to go succour Dinant, but they there arrived after the towne was taken. The duke fierce of his victorie, would needs have rushed upon thē of Liege as peace breakers, but an agreement was made; That they should observe the said forme of peace, & that for effect that they should give three hundred men for hostages (which were named) the next morning at eight of the clocke. The next morning came, and eight of the clocke, yea noone, but no hostages were delivered; so that the duke would gladly have run upon the towne of C Liege: yet he demanded counsell of the knights of his Counsell. The marshall of Burgundie, and the lord de Countay were of advice to fall upon them, & that there was just occasion, because they had not held their word to send hostages at the houre they promised; and a man might now have them in good case, because they were all devided and dispersed. But the earle of S. Paule was of a contrary mind, saying; That a multitude could not bee so soone accorded, and that men must not so mea­sure affaires of importance, by houres and minutes, but that it were yet good to sum­mon them by an harrold. This opinion of the earle of S. Paule was followed of the most of the Counsell: so that a Trumpet was sent to summon them, who met the hostages by the way comming to the duke. Here note; if the duke had had of his D Counsell none but the said Marshall, and de Countay, what effusion of humane blood had followed of these poor Liegiois, which would well have kept their words, but they could not so soone effect it? What yet came to passe? Yet certaine time af­ter, the said men of Liege broke againe the said covenants of peace: so that the said duke would have caused to die the said three hundred hostages, which could not do withall, nor were the cause of the peace breaking, but they were onely pledges and answeres of the publicke saith. The duke asked his Counsels advice. The said de Countay was of advice; they should be slaine: but M. de Imbercourt, a wise knight, was of the contrary mind, saying: It were best to take God on our side, and not to sley so many innocents for the fault of their concitizens: and for their yeelding E themselves hostages was in part to obey their common-wealth, and partly to em­ploy themselves for the good of their countries, but that for that cause they merited not to die. This opinion was followed, and that de Countay rejected as cruell. A little while after died the said de Countay, as if it were by a judgement of God: al­though that no man had ever seene him before, either cruell in deed or in opinion. He was also reputed a very wise knight: but there is not so good an horse which stum­bleth [...] [Page 60] king feaver into an hote ague, as the French proverbe is. For the same reason the F emperour Otho (Galba his successour) was evill beloved of all the people, which Dion. in Othon. were in an exceeding feare to see about him, them which had beene the ministers and Counsellors to Nero. For although Otho after hee was created Emperour, made a reasonable good entrie, and shewed himselfe very kind, and courteous, and mode­rate in all things, seeking by liberalitie and such other meanes to obtain every mans good will: yet men could not trust him in any manner, nor hope from him any good as long as he was served with Nero his servants. So that being so evill beloved, he endured not long, but being overcome of Vitellius, he slew himselfe.

Contrarily, king Lewis the twelfth comming to the crowne of France, governed himselfe evil, by leaving and forsaking the old and ancient Counsellors and servants of king Charles the seventh, his father, such as the Countie de Dunois, the Marshall G de Loheac, the Countie de Dampmartin, M. Charles de Ambois, the Lords de Chau­mont, du Bueil, and other like. For he ought to have considered, that he succeeded a king which was wise, and who had very well managed and ruled his realme, and by consequent, who had good Counsellors and servants, which the rather he should have reserved and retained in his service, as indeed hee did a good time after he was made king, when he knew by experience the fault he had made. For amongst other good parts which were in the said Lewis the twelfth, he was not proud, but hum­ble, and could well acknowledge his faults, and amend them: insomuch, that the fault that he made in disappointing the good servants of his father, ought no more H to be imputed unto him for an error, since he corrected and amended it. As sayth the Poet Sophocles:

To faile and fall a common thing it is
To all mankind; but he that hath the skill,
Salve to provide to heale that is amisse,
Astray goes not, as he that stands in ill.

Which never happeneth to a proud man, who alwaies persevers in his evils: and if a man will shew him any thing for his good, he takes it in evill part, and in place I to [...]mend, he addeth more unto them, and commits fault upon fault, whereby fol­lowes his ruine. The emperour Galba was of that nature: For when a man required anything of him, or that any shewed him any faults in the government of the Com­mon-wealth, he would provide no remedie for it, fearing to be seen to obtemperate and obey his subjects.

But as for that I have said concerning the change, which sometimes ought by a Coūsellors of a Prince disl [...]ked of great men▪ and o [...] the people ought to be put off. prince to be made of the Counsellors and servants of his predecessors; this hath of­ten happened in France: That the king hath ben forced to change new Counsellors, to appease the Nobilitie and the male-content people. This happened to king Chil­peric, the first of that name, the sonne of valiant king Merovee: for he governed him­selfe K by evill Counsellors, which the Frenchmen drove from him, whereof hee was so afraid, that he fled. But a certaine time after, he was called againe and governed well by good and wise Counsell, and proved a good and a valiant king. The same al­so came to passe in king Charles the wise, being Dolphin; to king Charles the sixt, his sonne; to king Charles the seventh, and Lewis the eleventh, and to many others, Annal. up­on An. 1458. which is not needfull here to insert. But I must needs say, That sometimes such chan­ges [Page 61] have been procured rather upon envie, than upon just complaint, they have A made against them which governed: and such envies do often proceed, when kings governe themselves by men of base hand, as they call them: for then are princes and great lords jealous. And therefore (to shun such jealousies and just complaints that great men may have to see themselves despised, (a prince ought so to advance meane men, that hee recoile not great men: and meane men ought alwaies to ac­knowledge the place from whence they came, respecting great men according to their degrees, without staggering in their dutie to their prince & common-wealth. And when they see, that by some accident they are evill beloved of great men, or of the common people, and that for the good of peace it is requisit to extinguish the envie and jealousie conceived against them, they ought voluntarily to forsake their B estate. For willingly to retaine it to the detriment and confusion of the common­wealth, therein doe they evidently shew, that they are not good servants of their prince. King Charles the seventh had Counsellors both wise and loiall, as M. Tan­guy du Chastell, M. Iohn Lowet president de Provence, the Bishop of Cleremont, Annal. up­on An. 1426. and certaine others of meane qualitie, which had done him great services in great affaires he had had, as well when he was Dolphin, as after he was king. At that time this king had civile warre against the duke of Burgoigne, whome secretly the duke of Bretaigne favoured: which warre the king would gladly have had extinguished. Therefore hee himselfe openly spoke to the said lords and dukes, which made him answere: That they were content to come to some good accord, provided, that hee C would put from him such Counsellors as he had, and take others. These beforena­med Counsellors knowing this, said to the king. Since (Sir) it holds but thereon to quench civile warre which there is against the house of Burgoigne, let them all goe home againe, it shall not come of us, that so good a thing shall bee hindered: and they themselves desired and counselled the king to accord to that condition. These were good and loyall Counsellors, but they are dead, and there are no more such to bee found. But such there are now adaies, which had rather see the com­monwealth in combustion and ruine, than they would suffer themselves to be remo­ved from their places one pace. Yet these good Counsellors abovesaid withdrew to their houses willingly and without constraint; and soone after peace was accorded D and finished betwixt the king and the duke of Burgoigne. These good persons al­ledged not: That men sought to take away the kings faithfull Counsellors, to seduce and deceive him, and that their dutie commaunded them then more than ever to keepe nigh his Majestie, seeing the great troubles and affairs of the kingdome, and that otherwise they might be accounted traitors, and disloiall: No, no, they alledged no such thing; they looked right upon the white, to keepe peace in the kingdome. For they knew well, that if they had used these reasons to the duke of Burgoigne, that he could soone have answered & replied, that they were too presumptuous and proud, to thinke that in all the kingdome of Fraunce there could not be found peo­ple as wise and faithfull to their prince, as they. For in all times the kingdome of E Fraunce more than any other hath ever beene well furnished with wise and vertu­ous people of the Nobilitie, Iustice, Cleargie, yea, Marchants, and of the third Estate.

To come againe to our purpose, certaine it is, That a prince which committeth the government of his affaires to one alone, brings himselfe in great daunger, and hardly can such governement bee without great mischeefes and disorders. For this [Page 62] commonly men hold, That being lifted up unto great honor and dignitie, they can­not F hold a moderation and mediocritie, which is that which giveth taste and grace to all our actions. The emperour Severus so high advaunced Plautianus, that being great master of his houshold, the people thought (seeing his dealings in his office) that hee was the emperour himselfe, and that Severus was but his great master. Hee Dion & Spartian Se­vero. slew, robbed, banished, confiscated the goods of all such as hee would, in the sight and knowledge of Severus, who contradicted him in nothing. So farre mounted this great and immoderate license; that Plautianus durst well attempt to cause Seve­rus to be slaine, and his two sonnes. But his wickednesse was disclosed by a captaine, unto whom he had discovered it: insomuch, that Severus caused him to come be­fore him, and although by nature he were a cruell Prince, yet was he so firmely affe­cted to Plautianus, that he never spoke sharpe or rigorous word unto him; but onely G uttered this remonstrance. ‘I am abashed, Plautianus, how it came in thine heart to enterprise this against me, who have so much loved and exalted thee, and against my children, whereof Bassianus my eldest sonne hath married your daughter, and so is your sonne in law. Truly the condition of men is very miserable, that cannot main­taine themselves in such honour and dignitie, as I have placed you in. I pray you tell me your reasons & defences to purge you of this act.’ The abovesaid Bassianus (see­ing that the emperour his father would receive Plautianus to his justification, fea­ring he should have escaped) caused one of his men to slay him in the presence of his father, adding to the saying of Severus: Certaine it is, that great honors attri­buted H to one man alone (as to governe the affaires of a kingdome) not only makes him go out of the bonds of reason, but also subjects him unto great envies, wherby great mischeefes happen unto him.

In the time of Philip le Bell, king of Fraunce, M. Enguerrant de Marigni, Coun­tie Annal. up­on An. 1314 & 1326. de Longuevile, a valiant and wise knight, governed almost all the affaires of the king and his kingdome, and especially of his common treasure, which was distribu­ted by his ordinance. Amongst other things he caused to build that great Pallace at Paris, where the court of parliament is held. After the death of king Philip; Charles Counte de Valois, his brother, begun criminally to pursue M. Enguerrant before cer­taine commissionaries of the said court, delegated for that purpose. And so farre did I the said Countie de Valois (being a great lord, prince of the bloud, and in great cre­dit with king Lewis le Hutin, his nephew, and sonne of the said Philip) pursue the cause against M. Enguerrant (who was then out of credit after the death of king Phi­lip his master) that he was condemned to bee hanged and strangled on a gibbet at Paris, as he was indeed. This happened onely unto him by the envie he had procu­red by his great place and too great credit. For true it is, that he was accused of ma­ny things, but he was not condemned of any punishable thing. But our hystories say, That he was not received unto his justifications and defences, he was so fiercely pursued by the said Countie de Valois, who after he had caused him to bee hanged, and that the hatred he bore him was extinct by his death, from thence forward hee K repented and greatly greeved, and ordinarily felt his conscience tormented therwith. After, falling sicke, hee had a persuasion, that it was a punishment sent him of God for the death of M. Enguerrant. Then begun he to cause many Masses to bee said, and great almes to be given for the soule of M. Enguerrant, and his owne health. But in the end he died of the palsie. So it appeareth by M. Enguerrant, that hee was overthrowne by his owne greatnesse. We may also well note, what a perillous thing [Page 63] it is, to wound our conscience, for to please our affections. For that is to offend the A mistresse, to please the chamber-maids: because the conscience (which is the right judgement of reason, wherby we approch unto God, and go farre beyond beasts) is she which ought to be mistresse within us, and our affections ought to be chamber-maids: but when preposterously we alter this course and law given of God, we can­not doe well.

3. Maxime. B

‘A Prince ought not to trust in Strangers.’

HE that is driven from his Countrey (saith Machiavell) dravv­eth Discourse, lib. 2. cap. 31. to that prince vvhich vvill receive him, not for any good C affection he beares him, but as it vvere constrained by ne­cessitie: and therefore, having no other affection, but his ovvne profit, he betrayeth the prince, vvhich hath taken him into fa­vour, so soone as any other prince offereth him more profit, vvhatsoe­ver faith and promise he hath svvorne unto him.

I Place not here this Maxime, to the end to confute or reprove it: for it is true, in such manner as he deducteth and understan­deth D it: but because his disciples understand and practise it otherwise, I thought good not to leave it behind. They then say, That a Prince ought not to give trust to them which are strangers unto him, and which are of another countrey and nation than he; but ought altogether (if it can be) serve him­selfe with them of his owne nation, yea, and that in the government of the coun­tries and provinces of another nation that is subject unto him. As the kings of En­gland did in the time, when they held Guienne, Normandie, the Isle of Fraunce, the most part of Picardie: for they gave the governments and offices of all those provinces unto Englishmen, as beeing of their owne nation, and not unto French­men, E which were strangers unto them: as also did and doth the king of Spaine, who being borne in Spaine, yet holds many goodly countries of other nations, as the low countries, Burgundie, or the free Countie, the dutchie of Millaine, the king­dome of Sicilie, and of Naples, but the governours and magistrates there, are all or the most part Spaniards. So by those examples, the disciples of Machiavell would say, That a Prince ought not to serve himselfe, nor trust in them which are strangers [Page 64] unto him, which are not of his nation, although they be of his countries, and under F his subjection. To the contrarie whereof, I will proove, That a Prince ought to put trust, and to serve himselfe with his subjects, although they be not of his nation; yea that hee ought over each nation of his domination, to establish governours and officers of that nation it selfe, as much as he possiblie can.

The reason is evident, because naturally every man loves his owne countrie and nation, and by consequent, a governour or magistrate of the same nation, and of that countrey, shall bee better beloved than a stranger. And being better be­loved, he shall also be better obeyed, and shall so bring a better obedience to his prince: for true and assured obedience must proceed more from love, than from force or feare, as shall be shewed more at large in another place. The other reason G is, That other nations are different in manners and complexions, whereunto Magi­strates must accommodate and apply themselves; and if they be strangers, they nei­ther can nor know how to doe it. I will not therefore say, that magistrates ought to be of the same towne or of the same province, but onely of the same nation. For contrarie, I thinke, that the ordinance of the auncient Romanes and of our aun­cient kings was good, That none should governe in that Province where hee was borne; because having there his friends and parents, he would sooner employ his office to favour them, than others. That office also might so be more contempti­ble, being exercised by one of the same place, whose familiar and privat knowledge may make him lesse honoured of his neighbours. I will not say also, but that a H prince, which possesseth some countries of another nation & tongue than his owne, ought and may have certaine officers and magistrates of his owne nation, as a lieu­tenant generall and captaines of fortresses: but he should the most hee possibly can serve himselfe with them of the countrey: yea, his lieutenant Generall ought often to communicate with them, and to call them to counsell. For the estate of a prince is no other thing than the estate of a Commonwealth: for as much as the power which the people had in & upon themselves, they have transported unto the prince: so that the prince ought to have the care (as he hath the authoritie) over all affaires which touch the conservation and encrease of the estate and good of the Common­weale. But although that care do truly appertaine to the prince, yet his subjects have I a great interest, that he acquite himselfe well and duly, because the domage & harme fals upon them, if he doe evill. And therefore this makes, that they are alwayes desirous to know how the prince governeth himselfe, and when the prince dooth them this honour, to call them unto some participation of that charge, they receive a great contentment, and doe love greatly their prince, and the more willingly doe yeeld him obedience. But if the prince despise them, and give them no offices, but give them to people which are not of their owne nation, they receive a great dis­contentment; and for that thereby they presume, that the prince trusts them not, they thereupon inferre, that they love them not. But hard it is to love, where hee is not beloved. Hereof arise afterward, enterprises, rebellions, revolts, & other broiles, K which wee see alwayes happen either soone or late, when subjects are miscontented with their prince. There is yet another reason, which is; That naturally men desire ho­nour, which of it selfe is no evill, nor condemnable appetite. For all they that love vertue, are alwayes touched with that desire, not to be honoured themselves, but to the end, that vertue may bee had in that estimation that it deserveth. And therefore when the prince shutteth the gate to honors from them of his nation, the vertuous [Page 65] people thereof are angry, and doe greeve, that they have not whereupon and wher­in A in to employ and make esteeme of their vertue, namely, a good spirit and prudence, which are best employed, and shine more in a publicke than in an houshold-govern­ment. From hence it also comes, that vertuous people beeing angry and chafed to see themselves despised, as also to see strangers preferred before them, suffer them­selves to be governed and guided by turbulent passions, contrarie to their natures. Moreover, it seemeth well, that the Poet Hesiodius and Aristotle shoot not farre from the white of truth: when they say, That by right of nature he ought to dominier and rule, who hath the more able spirit to know how to command well, and he that hath the lesseable ought to obey. And although sovereign principalities are not ruled by that naturall law, because of the difficultie which falleth ordinarily in the execution B of their election: yet for all that, that law alwayes sticketh naturally in the spirits and minds of men: insomuch, as it seemes to them, which feele themselves to have some sufficiencie, that there is wrong done them, when they are put by, to bring into an office one lesse capable. By the abovesaid reasons then, I hope men may see, and usually we reade, how great disorders doe often come, when princes have preferred strangers unto publicke charges, offices and honours, before them of that nation and countrey, where such charges and honours are distributed and exercised.

The yeare 1158, William king of Sicilie (by his originall was a Frenchman) gave Annale 1168. the estate of the Chancellor of his kingdome to a person very capable and fit, but he was not that countreyman, but a Frenchman. The lords of the kingdome gree­ved C to see a stranger constituted in so high an estate within their countrey, and that A strange Chancellor cause of a great mas­sacre in Si­cilie. the greatest magistracie of justice must needs be exercised by strange hands, a very cruell conspiration. For not onely they conspired the death of that chancellor, a Frenchman, but also of all them of the French nation, which were dispersed in the kingdome of Sicilie, Calabria and Apuleia. For that purpose sent they secret let­ters through all the townes and places of the said countries, whereby they advertised their friends and adherents (which were alreadie prepared all over) that they should massacre and slay (each one respectively) the Frenchmen of their places and towns, on the day and hour that they would assigne them. Which was executed, and there was made in the said countries an horrible butcherie and exceeding great effusion D of French blood. Behold the mischeefe that came in that kingdome for having a stranger for their chancellor. True it is, that some may say, that this massacre of the Frenchmen in Sicilia and other countries of Italie, happened not so much for that reason, that there was a strange chancellor, as, for that the Italian race hath alwayes ben much enclined to shed the blood of our nation. For that same race made also another like generall massacre in the year 1282, by a conspiration, wherin it was concluded, that every one of the country should slay or cause to be slaine his French guest, at the first sound of their Evensong bell even upon Easter day. Which conspi­ration was not only executed, but also the rage of the massacrers was so great, that they ripped the bodies of women of their owne nation, alive, which were never so E little suspected to be gotten with child by Frenchmen, to stifle the fruit they caried. And this cruell and barbarous massacre was called the Sicilian Evensong. By the Siciliā Evē song. imitation hereof, the same race complotted and executed not in Sicilie (but in France it selfe) and through all the best townes of the kingdome, the horrible and generall massacre of the yeare 1572, which will ever bleed, and whereof their hands and swords are yet bloodie. Of which exploit, they have since incessantly vaunted [Page 66] and braved, calling it The Parisien Matines. M. Martin du Bellay, rehearseth also in F Paritien Matin [...]. his Memories, how the same race murdered a great number of poore souldiers (after the journey of Pavie comming towards France) lame, wounded and unarmed, slay­ing them in their high waies. But such is this peoples generositie of heart, alwayes to be tenne or twentie against one, and to brave such as are wounded or unarmed, which have no meanes to resist. This Messeresque generositie is at this day called in France, Coyonnerie and Poltromerie. But let us come to our purpose touching the disorders that come by strange magistrates.

By the peace of Bretaigne made betwixt Iohn king of Fraunce and Edward king Froissart, lib. 1. cap. 216. 246, &c. Pla. in Mar­tin 4. of England, the countrie of Aquitaine was acquited purely and in al soveraigntie by the sayd king Iohn, to the said king Edward. This king Edward from the first possessi­on G of the sayd countrie, gave it to the prince of Wales, his eldest sonne, who came and lay in Bourdeaux, and apart kept a court great and magnificall. The gentlemen of Gascoigne and of other countries of Acquitaine, which by the means of the sayd peace, should become vassals to the king of England & to the said prince of Wales, his sonne, came straight to find the prince at Bourdeaux: first, to sweare their faith and homage; secondly, to obtaine his favour and good countenance, as is the cu­stome of all nobilitie: The prince of Wales very gently, courteously, benignly, and familiarly entertained them, but in the meane while he gave all the offices & estates of the countrie (as the captainships and governments of the towns and castles, the offices of bayliffs and stewards, & the estates of his court) unto English gentlemen, H where of he had alwaies great store about him. These English gentlemen, although they held no other goods but their estates, spent prodigally, and held as great a traine as the lords of the countrey; and to maintaine that, they committed great ex­tortions upon the people. Hereupon came it, that the people (feeling themselves oppressed by the English officers, & the nobilitie and vertuous people seeing them­selves recoiled and kept from offices, that the prince gave al to strangers which were not of that nation, and that herewith he would needs impose a new tribute and im­post upon the countrie;) in a little time all revolted from his obedience, and so cau­sed all the towns of Aquitaine to revolt one after another: insomuch that the king of England, and the sayd prince of Wales his sonne, lost straight all the countrey, I having therewithall procured the evill will of their subjects, by giving offices unto strangers.

Iohn duke of Bretaigne, in regard that hee had taken a wife in England, was mar­vellously Froiss. lib. 1. cap 311 & [...]14. affected to the English partie, yea against the king of Fraunce his soveraign lord. The nobilitie of Bretaigne were much grieved therat: insomuch, that one day the three greatest lords of the countrie (that is to say, the lord de Clisson, de Laval, and de Rohan) went to him, and after salutations, said to him in this manner: ‘Sir, wee know not upon what thought you shew your selfe so enclinable and favourable unto the English; you know that the king of France is our sovereign lord, and the dutchie of Bretaigne holdeth also of the crowne of Fraunce: Wee pray you to despoile and K rid your selfe of that affection which you have to the Englishmen, and shew your selfe a good Frenchman, such as you ought to be; for we come to declare unto you, that if you doe it not, wee will abandon and leave you, to serve the king of Fraunce, who is our sovereigne lord.’ The duke hereat was much troubled, and could not so much cover his courage, but he sayd, That the king of Fraunce did wrong the king of England, to despoile him of Aquitaine. Certaine time after, distrusting his sub­jects, [Page 67] he sent into England to have Englishmen for his service, and to give them cap­tainships A and governments of towns and castles of Bretaigne. The king of England sent him people: but the gentlemen of Bretaigne thinking much that their duke di­strusted them, and would prefer Englishmen before them, themselves seazed the for­tresses and towns of the countrie, before the arivall of the Englishmen. Insomuch, that the duke seeing himselfe brought into a great extremitie, abandoned his coun­trey and saved himselfe in England. This came unto him for loving strangers more than his owne subjects, and for that he desired to give them the charges and estates of the countrey.

The king Charles the eight, in the voyage of Naples, which he made in his owne Comines, lib. 1. cap. 20. person, conquered the realme of Naples almost without stroke striking; and was re­ceived B of all the people, and of the most part of the Nobilitie of that countrey, as a Messias sent of God, to deliver them from the cruell and barbarous tyrannie where­in they were before, and had now long time beene under their kings, Alphonsus and Ferrand of Arragon, usurpers of that kingdome upon the house of Anjou, where­unto Charles succeeded. Every one may judge, if it had not beene easie for the king (if he had enjoyed a good Counsell) to have kept that goodly kingdome in his per­petuall obedience. For when a people hath been tyrannized by an usurper, and that he comes to recover his naturall prince, which deales with them like a good prince, there is nothing to induce the people to denie him obeisance, or to revolt. Because on the one side they acknowledge, that after God, and reason, they ought to obey C him, which is the true and lawfull prince, unto whom alwayes there is more amitie borne, than unto another: and on the other side, they see themselves discharged and unburdened of that heavie waight of tyrannie and of an usurper. But what came there unto king Charles? Thus having conquered that kingdome, hee gave all the estates and offices of the country unto Frenchmen, which he had with him in that voyage: whereof the gentlemen of the countrey, (and especially such as had alwaies either secretly or openly held to the part of the house of Anjou) were so disconten­ted and spighted, that they straight cast off all amitie & good affection to the king, and incontinent entred into practises and complots, to make all the countrey to re­volt, which they straight did, and so made void that voyage, and (for nothing) the D king lost both his people and his money: who assuredly might have well kept the kingdome of Naples, if he had given the offices thereof to them of the countrey, and sought meanes to have maintained them in voluntarie obedience.

By the aforesaid example it appeares, That the Frenchmen gained nothing by getting into their hands all the offices and estates of the kingdome of Naples: yet gained they much lesse in the fact I come now to speake of, seeking to take away the honour of the warre from the Spaniards in Spaine at the battaile of Iuberoth. You Froiss. lib. 3. cap. 12, 31, 14, 15, 16. must then understand, that the king Iohn of Castile, being an allie with the king of Fraunce, demaunded succours of him and aid to make warre against king Denis of Portingale. The king of Fraunce sent him gallant succours, as well of footmen as E horsemen. Our Frenchmen arriving there, were very well entertained of king Iohn of Castile: our French desired the point of the battaile, to shew both what they could doe in warre, as also their good affection to doe him service. The Castilians contradicted this, beeing greeved and envious against the French, that so vaunted & preferred themselves before them. Notwithstanding all that the Spaniards could doe, the king graunted them their request, where of they were very glad, and the Ca­stilians [Page 68] as sad. What did the Castilians? Vpon despight and envie they complot­ted F together, to suffer the French to pursue the enemie without following or se­conding them, but onely to make a shew, that they would follow them, to the end, that all the glorie might remaine to the French, if they vanquished, or all to them, if after the overthrowing of the French, they were victors. Vpon which resolution, it is well to note, how envie and hatred blindeth judgement. For if they had not been very passionate, they might well judge, That forces devided, might easily be vanqui­shed one after another, (as it happened to their ruine and dishonour) and to the ru­ine of the French) but being joyned together, they might much sooner have beene victorious. Finally, the battaile was given against the Portugals, which were vali­antly encountred by the French, but beeing unseconded by the Castilians, which G held the arreregard, they were found the more feeble: insomuch, that they were all slaine or taken. And which was a thing very lamentable: Of those there were a thou­sand gentlemen taken prisoners, amongst which there were nineteene great lords, all which also were thus slaine. For as the Portugals, a while after the defeating of the avantgard of the French, perceived to arrive the arreregard of the Castilians, they resolved to slay their prisoners, and did so, lest they either should make warre upon them behind, or els escape. So having slaine all their said prisoners, they marched valiantly against the Castilians, whom they likewise discomfited. If we Frenchmen had not been so ambitious and covetous of glorie, as to seeke glorie in a strangers countrey, above them of that countrey, they had not falne into this mischeefe. H

Ochozias king of Iuda was son of Athalia, a woman stranger, daughter of a king 2. Kings, cap. 10. 2. Chron. cap. 22. of Samaria. This king governed himselfe by Samaritans, (which were much hated of the people of Iuda,) unto whom he gave the principall charges and offices of his kingdome, at the persuasion of his mother a Samaritane also, despising and cast­ing behind, the wisest and most vertuous of his kingdom, by which he should haue beene governed, after the example of his predecessors. This was the cause of that kings destruction: for as Iehu was in destroying the house of Achab brother of A­thalia, he slue also Ochozias, and extermined almost all his race, as a partner and friend which maintained Achab. If Ochozias had governed himselfe rather by peo­ple of his owne kingdome, than by strangers, that evill hap had not come unto I him.

That great king Asseuerus which held the empire of the Medes and Persians, and Ester, cap. 6, 7, 8, &c. governed over 127. countries, a great while governed himselfe by a stranger called Aman who was a Macedonian: this Aman seeing himselfe in credit, durst enter­prise unjustlie to make die Mardocheus (who had alwaies beene the kings good and faithfull servant,) under the pretext and colour, that he was not of the kings religion. and to cover the particular enmitie which he had against Mardocheus, and to the end to make it see me that he would not this harme to him alone, he found meanes to the king, to cause a generall commandement for the massacring and murdering of all such as were of Mardocheus his religion. But the king having beene advertised that K Mardocheus had done him good services, and that that which Aman did was but upon envie, revoked the commaundement, and would not have that massacre to be executed, but caused to hang and strangle the Macedonian, which would have had him brought his kingdomes and countries into combustion by so horrible an effusion of blood as he had caused to be enterprised, and gave his estate to Mar­docheus.

[Page 69] Alexander king of Epirotes had drawne and gathered into his countrie a great A number of Lucanians, banished and chased out of their countrie, and vsed them with such curtesie and hospitalitie, that not only he permitted them to dwell in E­pire, but also served himselfe with them, and reputed them for his good and faithfull friends, and vsed them with all the best dealing he could. But it so happened, that the king had warre against the countrie of those banished people, and so thought to be well served with them in this war, as indeed they promised him, saying, They de­sired no more than to revenge themselves of such as had banished and chased them out of their countrie, and to bring the countrie into the obedience of Alexander, and to be afterward established in their goods & in authoritie (under him) in the said countrie. But as it ordinarilie commeth (saith Titus Livius) that such people have B spirits and faith as mutable as their fortune, they used the matter otherwise than they promised the king, and than he looked for. For they made secret compacts to betray this king, with their countrimen; which promised them a restauration into their goods and authority which they had in their said countrie before their banishment, provided that they would deliver the king either alive or dead: which willing to exe­cute, they did so much, that they persuaded this king to give battaile against the Lu­canians, and there should he know the good affection they had to do him service, and to fight against such as had banished them; insomuch that they came to the bat­taile, & there this banished people did so much, that they brought this king Alexan­der into a place nigh the flood Acheron, from drowning in which he could not save C himselfe, but by swimming over the floud. Being then brought to that place and straight, they begun to shew their treason, and turned themselves against the king; who seeing the perill wherein he was, hazarded himselfe by swimming to passe over that great floud. As hee had almost passed it over, and that he had recovered the banke on the other side; behold there came one of the banished people, who with a javeline transpierced and run him cleane through the bodie. The body falling in the water, was by the river carried into the hands of his enemies, which encam­ped lower. But when they light upon that bodie, they in great irrision and disdaine, cut it in many peeces. Here is the miserable end that came to this poore king for trusting in strangers. D

Charles the last duke of Bourgoine, not being able any way to get his will of the De Comines, lib. 1. cap. 83, 92. towne of Nus, entred into distrust and discontentment with his owne subjects, al­though in truth they had done all their duties in the besiege of the towne: yet a prince must doe what hee will. Vpon this mistrust and discontentment of his sub­jects, hee resolved with himselfe to bee served with strangers, and amongst all other strange nations, he made choice of Italians. But I leave you to thinke how good his choice was likely to be: for every one knowes well ynough, what account Italians make of the observation of their faith, and how Machiavell teacheth, That faith is not to be observed but to a mans profit, which they of that nation doe alwayes well practise. And if sometimes there bee found any loyall and good observers of their E promise, it is a thing so rare, as that raritie should not have any thing mooved the duke of Burgoigne, rather to trust the Italians, than his own proper subjects. Yet ha­ving taken it in hand, he drew to his service the earle of Campobache, which hee entertained with foure hundred men of arms & more of Italians paied by his hands. Incontinent as Campobache was entred into credit with the duke, hee begun to go­verne him at his pleasure, so that the duke trusted more in him than in any man in [Page 70] the world. Campobache having gained this point, straight begun to practise to be­tray F him, and to deliver him to king Lewis the eleventh, then raigning, if hee would promise him in recompence 20000 crownes, and a good earledome. But the king (doing as Fabricius did towards the king Pyrrhus) would not enter into that compo­sition, but advertised the duke of Burgoigne; to the end he might take heed of that traitor, and rid himselfe of him. The duke tooke this advertisement in evill part (his sences were so troubled) imagining, that the king sent him this word to make him leese his good servants, and therefore trusted more than ever, Campobache. When Campobache saw hee could not bargaine with the king, hee sought a merchant other where: for hee was resolved, whatsoever became of his credit, to draw out a profit, if he could. Amongst these actions, the duke thought good to besiege Nancy, the principall towne of Lorraine. The duke of Lorraine was not so scrupulous to enter G into composition with that traitor, as the king had been, especially, because the duke of Burgoigne made warre upon him unjustly, and sought to take from him his coun­trey. He therefore entred into compact with Campobache, by the meanes of a gen­tleman of his, named Cyfron, and they concluded and agreed betwixt them se­cretly. Finally, before Nancy was a battaile given by the advice of Campobache, who councelled the duke of Lorraine, to levie the siege of the duke of Bur­goigne, who was there slaine, and his armie defeated by the meanes and treason of Campobache. The king after this, tooke a part of the countrey of the said duke of Burgoigne, which died in the foresaid battaile, because they ought duly for H want of heires male to returne to the Crowne of Fraunce; and the rest of his dukedome fell to his onely daughter, who was his heire, which was married in­to the house of Austriche. Now you may see how the duke of Burgoigne did pre­cipitate himselfe into ruine, and his countries fell as a prey unto his neighbours, by trusting straungers, and forsaking his good, faithfull, and naturall subjects and vassales.

The emperour Gordian the young, prospered greatly whilest his affaires were go­verned Capito [...]inus in Gordiano. by Misitheus his father in law, & who was his great master of his houshold, and his lieutenant generall. Gordian made warre against Sapor, king of Persia, whom he drave out of Thracia, and from the countries of Syria, and recovered Antioche, I Carres, Nisibis, and other great townes which the Persians held: insomuch, that the name of Gordian was feared and redoubted through all Persia, whereas before Italie it selfe begun to feare the Persians. But upon the course of his victories and prosperities, arrived by evill hap the death of that good and wise man Misitheus, and withall, fell another yet greater, which was this: That that young emperour went to give the estate of his father in law to a stranger, an Arabian, called Phillippus, who straight begun to practise against his master (as we have abovesaid of Campobache.) For the first thing he did was this: That he tooke order, that victuals should want in the campe, to make a mutinie of the souldiers against the emperour, and hee him­selfe did sow diffamatorie words through the campe against his master, as that hee K was a young man, and knew not what belonged to the conduction of a campe, and merited not to be an emperour, and who would cause all the armie to be destroyed, if they rested upon him. Breefely, he brought the souldiers and men of war to what point he would, by the meanes he tooke. For there is nothing more saucie nor more deafe to heare reasons and excuses, than an hungrie bellie. All the hoast then being angry against Gordian, for the want of victuals; and the principall captaines thereof [Page 71] being corrupted by this Arabian stranger, he did so much, as he got himselfe to bee A chosen as tutor and governour of the emperour. Haying by this meanes gained the authoritie to command, he begun to enterprise to make Gordian his master die. Which this young prince seeing, he besought him humbly, that hee would receive him into the participation of the empire, and that they two might be together em­perours: as but a few yeares before had been Maximus and Balbinus. But Philippus would not agree to that, perceiving himselfe strong of captaines, which hee had gained and corrupted. Then Gordian demanded of him yet the office which he had given him of the Great master of his houshold, & Lieutenant generall, & that in the place of a master he might so be his servant. But the fierce Arabian denied it him, he was so villanous and ingrate. Finally, he desired him but to save his life, which likewise B that wicked Arabian would not accord, fearing that one day he might trouble him, because he was of a very noble race, and that he had many friends as well at Rome, as all over the Roman empire: and by the contrarie, Philippus was of a vile and un­known race. Breefely, this cruell Barbarian & stranger, made forcibly to be brought before his face that young prince, his master, who had advanced him, and there cau­sed him to be unclothed naked, and so to be massacred and slaine. Would any say, there could be imagined a barbarousnesse, disloyaltie, or crueltie, more strange? so a stranger committed it. Trust such people who list.

The ancient Romans which were wise, tooke good heed of granting charges and offices unto strangers, nay not to their associates of the same tongue that they were. C After they had lost the battaile of Cannas, where were slaine fourescore Senators, the Senate seemed to be utterly overthrowne, the number remaining was so small. There was then proposed by Marcus Aemilius, Praetor, that there should be new Se­nators chosen to supply and encrease the auncient number. And upon this proposi­tion, he as president of the Senate, demaunded first the advice of Spurius Carvilius, Senatour. Carvilius thought best to chuse some good number of the most notable and wise men of the Latines, their associates; as well for that there was want of men within Rome, as to hold the Latines more united and obedient; by the meanes of which union he said, the Commonwealth should be much more fortified & encrea­sed. But Manlius, which reasoned after him, was of another advice: for hee declared D high and clear, That the first Latine that he saw enter within the Senat to sit down as Senator, he would slay him with his owne hand; and he could never endure, that the Senat should be contaminated with strangers. After Manlius, reasoned that wise lord Quintus Fabius Maximus, who said, he never heard nor saw any man argue in the Se­nat so grossely and evill to purpose as Carvilius had done, especially (said hee) in this time wherein we are brought to such extremitie, and that it is more needfull than ever, to have in the Senat, faithfull and loyall persons: and every one may well know, that there can never be good trust and assurance in strangers, which measure faith and loyaltie, by their profit and losse. We had need also to take good heed there be no brute or fame of this foolish opinion of Carvilius, but to let it bee trodden under E our feet, for feare the Latines take not occasion to lift up their horns, if they perceive any wind or breath thereof. Breefely, all the companie were of this opinion, and 177 Senators were chosen out of the body of the town of Rome, which before had made known their vertue without more looking into the nobilitie of their race. And Car­vilius was much despited, that he would have advanced strangers into the offices of Senators.

[Page 72] We must not be abashed if the ancient Romanes have used this: for even at this F day there is not so small a commonwealth that useth it not. See Venise, Gennes, and other townes of Italie, which are in forme of commonwealths; see Strasburg, Nuremburg, Ausburg, Francfort, Magdeburg, and all the imperiall townes of Almaigne, which are governed like commonwealths, and the thirteene cantons of the Suisses, you shall find, that they straitly observe this rule, To receive no stran­gers into offices and publicke charges: yea, in many places they will not receive strangers for inhabitants, wherein (it may be) they hold too much severitie and ri­gour. For hospitalitie is recommended unto us of God, and it is a very laudable vertue for men to entertaine strangers, and well to use them in entertainement. But strangers also ought to content themselves to be welcommed and entertained in a countrey or towne, without an aspiring will to master or hold offices and estates: G for at the length, that can obtaine unto them but envie and evill will. The French nation is that, which of all christianitie (as I thinke) receiveth and loveth stran­gers most: for they are as welcome all over Fraunce, as they of their owne nation. Yet wee have above shewed, that our predecessors were sometimes miscontented with the Englishmen, that would needs have all estates and offices in Aquitaine, as much may happen in this time: for nothing hath beene in times past, which may not againe be in this time.

The Salicke law (which is observed in Fraunce, and through all Almaigne) was not onely made to fore-close and barre women from the succession of the crowne, H and from soveraigne domination, by reason of the imbecilitie and incapacitie well to commaund, which is in the feminine sex: for in the masculine sexe happen often such incapacities. But especially the Salicke law was made, to the end, That by mar­riages strangers should not come to the said succession of the Crowne. For it should be as an intollerable thing to a Frenchman, to obey a strange king, as to obey a queene of the French nation, so odious is a strange domination in Fraunce. As also for that the consequence thereof with us should be ever evill. For a strange king would alwayes to estates and offices of the kingdome advaunce straungers of his nation; a thing which would alwayes cause in the end disorders and confusions, as is seene by the examples which we have before discovered. I

There is also an auncient example of Queene Brunehant, or Brunechile, who ad­vanced Annal. upō Anno 607. to the estate of Maire du Palais de France, (which was as much as governor of all the kingdome) a Lumbard, called Proclaide, who was much in her good grace and amitie. This stranger seeing himselfe lifted up so high, became so fierce and so proud, that he made no estimate of the princes of the kingdome, but put them to many troubles and vexations. Hee became also very rapinous and cove­tous, as (sayth the hystorie) is the nature of the Lumbards: insomuch, that hee did eat up and ruinated the subjects of Fraunce. Breefely, his behaviours and dea­lings were such, that hee got the evill wils of all men, from the nobleman to the carter. At that time was there warre amongst the children of the queene Brune­hant, K Theodoric king of Orleans, and Theodebert king of Metz. The barons and great lords, their vassales, desirous to make a peace betwixt the two kings brothers, but this great Maire Proclaide hindered it withall his power: which the said lords seeing, resolved amongst them; That it were better that strangers died, than that so many gentlemen and subjects of the two kings should sley one another; and so in­deed they did slay him as an enemie to peace and concord. The example of this [Page 73] Lombard should be well marked in this time, by the Lombards which governe in A Fraunce.

Lewis le Debonance, sonne of Charlemaigne, king of Fraunce, and emperour Annal. An. 829. Maire du Palais, a stranger, cause of ci­vile warre. of the West, altogether gave the Estate of Maire du Palais de France, to a Spani­ard called Berard, who incontinent mounted into great pride. The king had three sonnes, Lotharie, Lewis, and Pepin, who could not support the arrogan­cie and fiercenesse of this stranger, who (as it were) would parragon them. This was the cause of an evill enterprise of these three young princes against their owne father. For they seized upon his person, and brought him into the towne of Soi­ssons, and there caused him to forsake his crowne of Fraunce, and the Estate of the empire, and to take the habit of a monke in the Abbey of S. Marke in the said B Soissons, within which they caused him to be kept straitly for a time. But in the end the great barons and lords of Fraunce and Almaigne medled therein, and dismon­ked him, and restored him to his Estate, and agreed the father with the children. This had not happened, if that good king and emperour had had that wisedome, not to have lifted up a stranger so high; a thing which could not be but displeasant to his naturall subjects, great and little.

For a conclusion of this matter, I will here place the witnesse of M. Martin du Bellay, knight of the kings order, a man of qualitie, of vertue, and of great experience, who sayth: That hee hath seene in his time more evill happen unto the affaires of king Francis, the first of that name, by the meanes of straungers, C which revolted from his service, than by any other meanes. Amongst which stran­gers Strangers enclined to commit treasons. hee placeth the Bishop de Liege, the Prince of Orange, the Marquesse of Mantua, the Lord Andrew Doria, M. Ierome Moron of Millaine, (who cau­sed Millaine to revolt) and certaine others. But because these things are not of very auncient memorie, but happened in our world, I will make no longer dis­course thereof. Seeing also the examples and reasons which wee have above re­hearsed, are sufficient to shew (against the opinion of Machiavell his disciples:) That a Prince cannot doe better, than to serve himselfe (in offices and publicke charges of the countrey of his domination) with his owne subjects of the same countries, as beeing more fit and agreeing to the nature of the people of that D countrey, than are strangers. And there is not a more odious thing to the peo­ple (as M. Comines sayth) than when they see great offices, benefices, and dig­nities conferred upon strangers. And as for offices, it hath not beene seene aunci­ently and commonly, that they have beene bestowed upon straungers: but that within this little space of time they have found meanes to obtaine the greatest and best. For of old there was committed unto them, but offices of Captaine­ships, to the end, that under that title they might the better draw people of their owne countrey to serve the king. But as for benefices, of a long time it hath been, that the Italians have held and possessed the best in Fraunce, which the Pope bestowed upon them, and our kings durst not well contradict. Yet notwithstan­ding E it gave occasion unto king Charles the sixt, to make an edict in the yeare 1356, whereby hee forbad, That any benefices of the kingdome of France should be conferred upon strangers; which both before and since, by many royall Edicts, hath often beene renued and reiterated. Which Edicts merite well to be brought into use; but it shall not bee yet, since that they onely are they which yet doe go­verne all.

[Page 74] But I pray here all them which are good Frenchmen, that they will consider a lit­tle F neerer the wrong they do themselves, to suffer themselves to be reputed for stran­gers in their owne countrie, and by that meanes recuiled and kept from the Char­ges and Estates of the same. For Italians, or such as are Italianized (which have in their hands the governance of France) hold for true the Maxime of Machiavell: That men should not trust in strangers, as it is true: and this is because they would not advance any other but men onely of their owne nation, and certaine bastardlie and degenerous Frenchmen, which are fashioned, both to their humour and their fashions, and which may serve them as slaves and most vile ministers of their tre­cheries, cruelties, rapines, and other vices. For as for good and naturall French­men, they will never advaunce them, because they are strangers vnto them, and by G consequent suspected not to bee faithfull enough unto them, following the said Maxime.

Where is now then the generositie of our ancient Frenchmen, who made them­selves redoubted amongst strange nations? Where are now our auncestors vertues, who have caused the Levant to tremble, & have sent out their reputation into Asia, and hath repulsed and driven back the Gothes and Sarracens out of France, Spaine and Italie? For it seemeth that at this day the Frenchmen hold no more any thing of their ancestors valour, seeing they suffer (in comparison to them) so few strangers to dominiere so imperiously over them, and so to debase themselves, and to carry on their backes such insupportable burdens, and to suffer themselves to be driven from H the Charges and Estates of the common-wealth. Truly this is farre from making us to be redoubted and obeyed in strange countries, when strangers constreine us to obey them, and to take the yoke in our owne countrie. This is to doe cleane contra­rie to our auncestors, who subjected strangers unto them, when contrarie we subject our owne selves to strangers.

The Frenchmen were wont to be reputed franke & liberall, far from all servitude; but now our stupiditie, carelesnesse & cowardize do make us servants & slaves to the most dastardly & cowardly nation of Christendome. Our ancestors have vanquished and subjugated in battaile, & by armes, great Italian armies; but we suffer our selves to be over come by a small number of Italians armed with a rock, a spindle, and a pen I and inckhorne. Shall we alwayes be thus bewitched? see we not that by secret and and unknowne meanes they overthrow, and cause to die by treasons, poysonings, in­justice, now one, now another, of the greatest? & that they looke to no other marke but to ruinate the nobilitie, and all men of valour in France, which are suspected to favour the common-weale, or disfavour them? Be sleepie no longer, for it is time to awake, and to thinke what we have to doe, and not to attend till (from the particular ruine now of one house, then of another) we see all France vpon the earth. It is al­readie but too much established? and we have but too long attended to provide for our affairs, and to oppose our selves against the deseignes and machinations of these strangers, all which are discovered and knowne to such as will not shut their eyes. Let K us then stir up in our selves the generositie and vertue of our valiant great grandfa­thers, and shew, that we are come from the race of those good & noble Frenchmen our auncestors, which in old time past have brought under their subjection so many strange nations, and which so many times have vanquished the Italian race, which would make us now serve. Let us not leave off, for a sort of degenerate Frenchmen, adherents to the pernitious purposes of that race, to maintaine and conserve the [Page 75] honors, and reputation of loyaltie, integritie, and valiancie of our French nation, A which these bastardlie Italians have contaminated and foiled by their cruelties, mas­sacres and perfidies. Wee want nothing but courage to effect all this: for these Messiers would not stand one whit, if they knew once, that it were in good ear­nest and with good accord, that the Frenchmen would send them to excercise their tyrannies in their owne countrey, and force them to make account of such as they have committed in Fraunce.

Here endeth the first Part, entreating of such Counsell as a Prince should use.

THE SECOND PART, TREA­ting of the Religion which a Prince ought to hold. F G

¶ The Praeface.

AFter having before discoursed largely enough, What Counsell a prince should have and take; it will not be to any evill purpose to handle, What Religion he ought to hold and cause to bee observed in his dominions: For it is the first and principall thing wherein he H ought to employ his Counsell; namely, That the true and pure Reli­gion of God be knowne; and being knowne, that it bee observed by him and all his subiects. Machiavell in this case (as a very Atheist and contemner of God) giveth another document to a prince: for he would, That a prince should not care, whether the Religion that he holdeth be true or false; but sayth, That he ought to support and favour such falsities as are found therein: And hee comes even to this point (as an abhominable and wicked blasphemer) that he preferreth the Religion of the Paynims before the Christian: and yet his booke is not condemned as hereticall by our Sorbonists. But before we enter to confute his detestable Maximes, I will in manner of a Preface, demonstrat in few words the true resolution that a prince ought to have in I this matter. I presuppose then by a certaine Maxime, That the prince ought to hold the Christian Religion, as it is seene, by all antiquitie, simplicitie, and excellencie of doctrine. For in the first place; none can deny but it is more ancient thā any other of all the Religions Antiquitie of Christian Religion. that ever were: because it takes his foundation upon the bookes of Moses, and the promi­ses of God, of Christ and Messias, contained in them bookes, which were made to our first Fathers, from the beginning of the world. But there is no author, Greeke or Latine, which was not long after Moses: and it is a thing confessed and held amongst all learned men, That Moses writ his bookes many hundred years before Homer, Berosus, Hesiodus, Manethon, Metasthenes, and others like, which many men hold for the most aunci­ent Writers. Moreover, when Moses describeth unto us the generation of Noe, and K sheweth us that his children have bene as the first stem and root of divers nations of the world (in token and signe thereof, these nations hold yet at this present, the names of such children) doth not this shew plainly and truly, that Moses begun at the worlds beginning? Of Madens came the Medians, of Ianus the Ionians, of Iobel the Iberians, of Riphat the Riphaeans, of Tigran the Tigranians, of Tharsis the Tharsians, of Cithin the Cypri­ans, of Canaan the Cananites, of Sidon the Sidonians, of Elam the Elamites, of Assur [Page 77] the Assyrians; of Lud the Lydians and others: all these were the children, nephews, or A arrere-nephews of Noe, from whence the said nations have taken their names: it follow­eth therefore, that they were the first stocks and roots of them. Againe, if we looke to the ceremonies that in times past the Paynims used in their sacrifices, men shall easily know, that they are but apish imitations of such sacrifices as were ordained of God, which are described by Moses: For the sacrifice of Iphigenia which the Graecians made in Aulide to prosper them in the war they enterprised against Troy; what other thing is it than an imitation of Iepthe his sacrifice? who made a vow of a sacrifice; to prosper him in the war he enterprised; which sacrifice fell after by the divine will, upon his owne daughter. The custome which the Gaulois and many other people had, to immolat and offer criminall men when they had an opinion that God was angrie with them; what other thing was it but a B following of the sacrifice of Abraham, and of the sacrifices that God had commaunded for the expiation of sinnes? The Paynims also imitated this of Moses his sacrifices, that they immolated the like beasts, and reserved also a part of the beast sacrificed, to eat. So that thereby also it is clearly seene, That the Religion of Moses is the primitive and first, and that the other religions are but fowle and lazie pourtratures and imitations thereof. From hence followeth it, That our Christian Religion (which draweth his principles from the promises of Messias, contained in Moses) is the most ancient of the world, yea as an­cient as the world it selfe. For I wil not vouchsafe to stay upō the refutation of the strange opinion of Machiavell and other ancient Philosophers Paynims; which have maintai­ned, That the world had no beginning: but I send them to Empedocles, Plato, and other ancient Paynim Philosophers which have maintained the contrarie. I thinke that C the ignorance of the philosophers, which held, That the world had no beginning, shal some­thing excuse them, because they never saw the bookes of Moses, and in a thing so diffi­cile and hard to comprehend, the spirits of men might easily faile. But the impietie of Machiavel is no way excusable, who hath seene the bookes of Moses, & yet followeth that wicked opinion, like a mocker and contemner of the holy Scripture, thinking to shew, that he knowes more than others, he I say, who is ignorant and full of brutish beastlinesse, as (God willing) I shall make knowne.

As for the simplicitie of the Christian Religion, herein it is seene, That the Christi­ans Simplicitie of the Chri­stian Reli­gion. will know God, as he will that we should know him; and as he hath manifested him­selfe D unto us, simply, without passing further. For they are not so presumptuous as were those foolish Paynim philosophers which disputed of the Essence of God, and disputing up­on that point, fell into opinions, the most absurd and strange of the world. Some, after they had much dreamed in their brains, cōcluded, That the universall world was God: others, That it was the Soule of the world: others, That it was the Sun: and others set forward certaine other like monstrous opinions. They disputed also of his Power, of his Eternitie, and of his Providence, by naturall reasons: in all these they knew not how to resolve them­selves therein: For how is man so prowd and insensible, to thinke, that his braine (which is not halfe a foot large) can cōprehend so great and infinit a thing? it is as great a foolery and grosenesse, as he that in the palme of his hand will comprehend all the waters of the E sea. A Christian then hath this modestie and simplicitie, To know God by those means and according as he will be known of men; beleeving, That to have a wil to passe further, is to enter into darknesse, & not into knowledge. From hence followeth it, That the know­ledge which a Christian hath of God, is the only true knowledge; and that all the know­ledge that others (as Paynims and Philosophers) ever had, it neither was nor is any other but a shadow and imagination, very far from the most part of the truth.

[Page 78] And touching the excellencie of the doctrine of true Religion, herein is it first seene; F The excel­lency of the Christian Religion. that it is founded upon the promises of God made to the first fathers from the begin­ning of the world: whereby all they that embrace that Religion, are assured, That God is their father, and that he loveth them, and that hee will give them eternall life by the meanes of Messias. Can there then be any thing more excellent than this? Is there any thing in the world that can give more contentment or repose to the spirit of man, than this doctrine? For when man considereth the brevitie of his dayes, the languishments and miseries of this world, full of envies, enemities, all vices and calamities, will hee not iudge himselfe more unhappie than the beasts, if hee hoped not for an eternall happi­nesse after this life? The poore Paynims having this consideration, aspired to an eterni­tie, some in doing worthy acts, wherof there should be a perpetuall memorie after them; G others writ bookes that might bee read after their death: others persuaded themselves, that the gods would send good mens soules into the Elisian fields, and the wicked into the Acherontike and Stigian darkenesse. Yet were there some Philosophers, which disputed; Cice. in Somn. Scipi. Plato in Phaedo. That the soules of generous and valiant men after death, goe to heaven. All these opi­nions and persuasions of men, were but to give rest to their minds, which iudged man of all creatures most unhappie, without an eternall life after this. But what assurance had they of these opinions, which they gave to themselves? These poore people had none, nei­ther founded they themselves, but upon some weake and feeble reasons. For thus they ar­gued: That it was not credible, that God, who is all good, would create man (who is the most excellent creature in the world) to make him most unhappie, which hee should doe, if H he should not enioy an happie and eternall life after this. They also say, That it is not credible, that God, which is all iust, would equally deale with the good as with the bad: which he should doe, if there were not another life than this, wherein the good might re­ceive a felicitie, and the wicked punishment for their misdeeds. But what is all this? These be but feeble and weake pettie reasons, wherupon the spirits and consciences of men can find no good foundation to repose themselves, and to take an assured resolution of a salvation and an eternall felicitie. But the Christian hath another foundation than this: for he knoweth that God is of old, gone out (if I may so say) from his throne in heaven to communicate and manifest himselfe to our auncient fathers, to speake vnto them, to de­clare unto them his bountie and love towards mankind; hee knowes, that God hath made I them promises of Messias, which he hath since accomplished, and that in him he hath pro­mised to give eternall life to all them which lay hold of that Messias, and use his meanes to come unto it. These promises have ben many times reiterated to our said fathers, and in ages well distant one from another, that they might not be forgotten, but that they might be so much the more cleare, and known of every one: insomuch, that the Paynims themselves (which never read our fathers writings) have had some knowledge of the promises of God touching Messias, they were so cleare, not orious and well knowne, as we shall say more at full in another place. Heare thē for a resolution, a great excellencie in this doctrine of Christian Religion, viz. what it brings us to a certain knowledge and a firme assurance of an eternall life after this; which knowledge and assurance is not founded up­on K certaine leane Phylosophicall reasons, but upon the promises proceeding from the very mouth of God, which is the truth it selfe, and cannot lie.

And as for the doctrine of maners, I confesse that the Paynims and Philosophers which have held other religions, have spoken and reasoned in reasonable good tearms; but yet their doctrine cōmeth nothing nigh to that which the Christian Religion teacheth us thereof. True it is that the Paynims have spoken something well of Iustice, Temperance, [Page 79] Clemencie, Prudence, Loyaltie, Fidelitie, Amitie, Gentlenesse, Magnanimitie, Liberali­tie, A Love towards ones countrie, and such other vertues; he that denieth that they have not spoken well, and that some have not something practised them, should do them wrong. And the Christians have this in common with them, To approve and follow all these ver­tues; and for that cause they disdaine not to reade their bookes, and to learne of them the goodlie documents which they have left, touching these vertues: but yet I must say, that the Christian Religion hath lanched and entred farre deeper into the doctrine of good manners, then the Paynims and Philosophers have done. For proofe hereof I will take the Maxime of Plato: That we are not only borne for our selves, but that our birth is part­lie for our countrie, partlie for our parents, and partlie for our friends: behold a goodlie sentence we can say no other: but if we come to conferre it with the doctrine of Christi­ans, B it will be found maimed and defective. For what mention doth Plato make of the poore? where and in what place of this notable sentence doth he set them? he speakes not at all of them: breefly, he would that our charitie should bee first employed towards our selves: which they have well marked & followed, which say; That a well ordered charitie begins at himselfe. But this is farre from the doctrine which S. Paul teacheth the Chri­stians, when he sayth: That Charitie seeks not her owne; and also that which Christ him­selfe commaundeth us; To love our neighbour as our selves. Secondly, Plato placeth our love towards our countrey: Thirdly, our love towards our parents: and lastly, our friends. And what becomes of the poore? Let them doe as they can: for Plato his Charitie stretcheth not to them. And indeed a poore person, in the time of the Paynims, which had C no meanes to live, had no shorter way then to sell himselfe to be a slave unto him that bought him, who afterward served himselfe with him and nourished him. If such a poore man found no man to buy him, he died with hunger. True it is, that some were sometimes touched with commiseration of humanitie towards poore persons, when they saw thē with their eies languishing and in miserie: but they called not this commisseration a vertue, but only an humane passion. Neither had they any hospitals to lodge and nourish the poore in, nor their princes or great lords had their Almoniers as Christians have. When a child was borne evill formed, they would kill it, a cruell thing and full of inhumanitie, yet was it ordinarily practised; yea at Rome it was an expresse law of Romulus, whereby he Dionis. Ha­licar. lib. 2. commanded to expose and stifle the children which were borne disformed; which not only D was a crueltie against nature, but as it were a despite and iniurie done to the Creator who had created and formed them. They made accompt of poore men as they did of beasts: for they slew their slaves at their pleasure, and when, and for what they would. Vedius Dion in Augusto. Polio a Romane gentleman in the time of Augustus Caesar, ordinarilie caused to sley his servants and slaves (wherof he had a great number (in choosing alwaies the most pro­fitable, to cast the other bodies into his ponds which he had nigh his house, to feede Lam­preis which he had in those ponds. In the Paynims time (to offer pleasure & pastime to the people) they caused to make Theaters for combats to vttrance of poore slaves, which they caused to bande in two parts one against an other, and after that, furiously set one upon an other with naked swords, and none of them armed with any defensive thing. And (this E sport ended) when they of the one part had slaine all the others, or else that all had slaine one another to the last, the people laughed and tooke pleasure to see this, no more nor no lesse than we take pleasure to see Cocks fight. Hereby is it seene that the Paynims had no pitie of the poore, nor of slaves & servants, but regarded them as brute beasts, and made no more accompt of them, but for their service they drew from them. Also we never read amongst all their morrall precepts they had, that they ever spake of the poore; nor [Page 80] that they ever established any good pollicie to help them. Yet notwithstanding this agreeth F well with naturall reason, To do wel to his like. And this so noble a sentence which the Em­peror Alexander Severus caried for his poësie or devise: What thou wouldest not should Lampri. in Alex. be done unto thee, do it not to another, agreeth well with the common sence, and seemes well to be a principle of nature, not only in the negative, Not to doe, but also in the affir­mative, To doe to another, as we would he should doe unto us. Yet although naturall light leade us hereunto, the Paynims have not yet come to this point. The hystoriagrapher Lam­pridius sayth: That the Emperour Alexander learned this excellent device of the Chri­stians or of the Iewes in his time. Therefore it appeareth by the abovesaid reasons, That the doctrine of manners, which is taught us by the Christian Religion, is much more ex­cellent than that which the Religions of the Paynims and Philosophers teach, seeing they G make no account of the poore which are recommended unto us by so many precepts of Re­ligion. Moreover, the Christian Religion abateth the pride of mens hearts, and so makes them know they are sinners: and the religion of Paynims and Philosophers fill men with pride & presumption, persuading them, That naturally they are vertuous of themselves, and inclinable to do good and vertuous works, which they attribute to their owne vertue, and not to God. Yet more, the Christian Religion teacheth us to be patient, to support the imperfections one of another, and to pardon: but contrary, that of the Paynims and Philo­sophers persuadeth to seek vengeance. For a conclusion, none can deny, but that the doctrin of Christian Religion is in all points more excellent and perfect than that of the Paynim Religion. But when I speake of the Paynim Religion, I understand all other Religions (un­lesse H it be the Iewish Religion, out of which the Christian taketh his originall) for I hold for Paynims the Turkes, Sarracens, and all other barbarous people, which allow neither the old nor new Testament, and that have no knowledge in them.

But I doe not doubt but some will here make a question in this time wherein wee are, The Catho­licke religi­on and the Reformed are all one. that is, What Religion ought to be accounted Christian, whether the Catholicke or refor­med. Hereunto I answere: That we ought not to make two of them, and that it is but one same Religion, and as the names Catholicke, and Evangelicke, and Reformed, are all one name; so is the thing it selfe: for the one and the other acknowledgeth Christ, which is the foundation; and hold the articles of the faith of the Apostles Symbole; approve the Trinitie, and the Sacraments of Baptisme, and the holy Supper: although there be some I diversitie in the intelligence of certain points, we may not for that make them, two divers Religions. For in breefe, the one and the other is Christian, seeing they take Christ for the foundation. But for this purpose I will here recite a discourse of a learned man (in my opi­nion) which I lately heard at my lodging in my iourney from Paris to Basle. By which discourse, this good person (although he was Evangelike) maintained, That the Catho­likes and Evangelikes do agree, not only in name, but also in doctrin, although Sophisters will persuade the contrary. This proposition at the first seemed unto me a very Paradox: but when I heard and understood the reasons of that good man, his saying seemed very true unto me. There was in the companie a gentleman Catholike, none of these great tal­kers and bablers, but a man very gentle and affable, who tooke great pleasure to heare this K discourse, & asked many questions of this good man, whom I cannot name, for I never saw him before. He was no man of great shew, neither was there any great estimation made of him at the beginning, before we heard him speake: but at the end of our Table, whē we had given thanks (upon certain talke we had of Religion) he put forth the said proposition. All the company prayed him to cleare and illuminate that point, and to speake his full opi­nion therein; for there was neither Catholike nor Evangelike, which desired not greatly [Page 81] to understand that point. He begun then in this manner (after he had prayed all the com­pany A to take in good part what he should say, and humanely to excuse his faults, if any esca­ped.) ‘Masters (saith he) I see well, that all this company casteth their eies upon me, atten­ding to heare of me the proofe of the proposition which I uttered. To satisfie then your de­sires, although I have not premeditated all the reasons which might be spoken to maintain that I say: yet I will alledge some, which I hope you will not iudge impertinent. I will then here repeat my proposition, that is, That the Catholikes hold the same points of Christian Religion that we of the Reformed or Evangelike do. True it is, that the sophisters wil needs persuade the Catholikes, that we hold another doctrine than they doe, especially touching the Sacrament of the Altar, or the Supper (for all is one) and touching good works and cer­taine other points: and in veritie, the doctrine of our Religion differeth farre from that B of the Sophisters, yea in principall points, as is seene by the conference of our confession of Faith, with their articles. But I say and will maintaine, That the most part of the Catho­likes understand not the articles of the Sophisters; neither can they comprehend them, be­cause they consist in certaine subtile distinctions, and sophisticall tearmes. The schoole doctors knowing that their doctrine cannot be comprehended by the simple sence and com­mon iudgement of men, make the people beleeve, that it makes no matter though they un­derstand nothing, if so be they beleeve generally, that the articles of their faith bee true. And this they cal an implicit, wrapped, or entangled faith, that is to say, it is so covert and hid, that the people understand nothing. But I meane not to speake of the Sophists doc­trine, but of such points of Religion, whereof the Catholikes have some knowledge by the C apprehension of sence and common iudgement. For I maintaine, & it is true, That in these points, or in the most part, and especially in the cheefe things they agree with us, although the Sophisters make them beleeve the contrary. And by the way to make it appeare, let us a little discourse upon the principall articles of our Christian Religion (as of the Sacra­ments, of Iustification, of Workes, and certaine other points) and we shall see plainely, that the Catholikes agree with us.’

‘First, if you aske of a good Catholike, if when he receives the Sacrament on Easter day, he crusheth and bruseth with his teeth the very flesh and bones of our Lord Iesus Christ: he will answere you, hee beleeves it not, and that hee detesteth and abhorreth that talke of crushing and brusing with the teeth, the flesh and bones of our Savior. If you demand D of him, if he do not beleeve, that when he receiveth the Sacrament, he receiveth spiritu­ally the body and bloud of our Lord Iesus Christ: he will answer: yea, that he beleeves so. If you yet aske him, if when he receives the sacrament of the Host he beleeve that he recei­veth and drinketh by the same meanes, the sacrament of the blood by Concomitance, and that the cup which is given him to drinke in, is not but for him to rince his mouth withal: he will say he beleeves not this, and that eating is not drinking, and that hee knoweth not what that Cōcomitance is: & that he beleeveth, that receiving the Host, he eateth the Sa­crament of the body, and that drinking on the cup, he drinketh the Sacrament of the blood. If you demand of him, if he beleeve not, that in the holy sacrament there is made a Tran­substantiatiō: he wil answer you, that he beleeves it not, because he knows not what Tran­substantiation E is, nor what they meane by that long and prodigious word, & that he thin­keth it is some obscure word invented by the Sophisters, to hide from simple people holy things, and to darken cleare things. And truly it is a strange thing, and abhorring from common sence and from all humanitie and Christianitie, to bruse and burst the humane flesh & bones of our Savior Christ betwixt our teeth. And the Sophisters would so persuade the good Catholikes if they could, and that they found this goodly doctrine upon a Canon, [Page 82] which beginneth, Ego Beringarius. Where there is this in proper tearms. I Beringer, un­worthy Ego. Ber. de Conse. d [...]st. 2. F deacon of the church of S. Maurice of Angiers, knowing the true Catholicke and Apostolicke faith, detest and anathematize all heresie, and even that whereof I have ben before diffamed. Therefore I confesse with hart and mouth, that the bread and the wine, which are set on the altar after the consecration, are not only the Sacrament, but are chā ­ged into the body and blood of our Lord Iesus Christ: and that the priest toucheth not only sensually the Sacrament, but that also he handleth with his hands the very bodie of our Lord, and that he breaketh it, and that the faithfull break and bruse it betwixt their teeth. Behold the goodly doctrine of this Cannon, which the Sophists would make the Ca­tholikes beleeve: but of five hundred you shall not find one that will beleeve it. And ve­rily, this Cannon makes me remember what Achaemenides sayth in Virgil of the great G Polyphemus, who did eat the companions of Vlysses.’

"Poore humane creatures he did eat, the bodie, blood, and all:
Ae [...]i, [...]i. 3.
"My selfe did see him claspe and gripe in his so deepe a den,
"Two men of ours in his huge hands, their heads on dore Lintall
"He knocked so, that blood gusht out, and in my sight those men
"He tore and brused betwixt his teeth, yet dead they were not cleane.

‘And how should Catholikes beleeve this Canon, seeing the priests themselves beleeve it not? I prove it. For if they beleeved it, they would never say masse upon fridaies, nor in H Lent, or other sasting dayes: and the Charterhouse, Celestines nor Ensumine Friers and Monks would say no masses, for feare to eat slesh. O, but will one say, This is a strange rea­son: I confesse it; but the aforesaid Cannon is as strange: and how strange soever, yet can it not be overthrowne, without giving some spirituall interpretation unto the manduca­tion of the Sacrament. But straight as soone as a man comes there, behold we are at an agreement. You see then how the Catholikes, yea, the priests themselves beleeve not in that Canon, which notwithstanding is the only foundation of the masse. Yea, but you will say, The Catholikes go to masse and find it good. I confesse it, but it is upon custome they go thither, not because they understand or beleeve any other thing touching the Sacrament, than that we have already said. And therefore seeing they do agree with us in the princi­pall, I there shall be no great danger nor losse for them to send away and banish into the Cy­clopian Islands or into Poliphaemus den their masse, yea, though but for a time to see and prove, whether they might well and commodiously spare it or no. As wee read Pope Cle­ment the sixt did, who excōmunicated all the people of the country of Flanders, for a cer­taine rebellion that they had made against the king of France their soveraigne; who also interdicted all the priests of the countrey upon paine of eternall damnation, to say no mas­ses, nor to administer any Sacraments to the Flemmings, til they had obtained absolution of his fatherhood. The poore Flemmings seeing themselves without masses (for in no sort their priests would say any) they writ to the king of England, making unto him great cō ­plaints. The king of England sent them word not to be dismayed nor troubled for want of K masses, for he would send them priests out of his country, to say them masses ynough. But the priests of England went not, fearing to be comprehended in that fulmination of the Pope. In the meane while the Flemmings attending whilest the king of England sent the priests, accustomed so much themselves to be without masses, being merry and making good cheare, that they were well, and no more it troubled them. Many other countries also at this day which have no masses, passe the time well ynough to their content, as England, [Page 83] Scotland, and Denmarke, & the most part of Almaign. I beleeve also, if men did assay it in A France, to obtaine peace and union, they would not find it so evill as they thinke. For al­ready we agree upon the Sacrament, as is abovesaid: we hold also the Epistles, Gospels, & the lessons which are taken out of the Psalmes of David, and the Prophets: for we shall al­wayes find that in our Bible; yea, farre more faithfully enregistred than in the Missall: all the remainder is not worth the holding. For as for their massing garments, men of good iudgemēt know wel, That apparell addes no holinesse to the masse; seeing also that French­men naturally staie not long in one fashion of apparrell, but easily chaunge from one to another. I confesse in regard of the common people, which only stay upō that they see, that they will take no great lust in a masse, without the masse garments: as if the Curate said it, in his doublet and hose without more, or in his ierkin, it is certaine; that commonly the B parishioners would greatly scandilize it, and would not find it good. And yet a true thing it is, that apparell makes not the masse better, neither have they any sanctitie in them to deserve to be retained. For if it were true, that such garments made the masse better, and added any holinesse unto it; then would it follow, that the better the garments and habites are, so much the better should the masses be; & then would there be found great inequa­litie in the bountie and goodnesse of masses; and so would it follow, that the masses of rich men should be better than poore mens, a thing very absurd and odious: that were also to make village masses of no account, because their masse garments are often tattered and rent. So that thē we must come to this resolution, to shun these absurdities; That garmēts bring no holinesse to the masse; and that in retaining the holy Sacrament, the Gospell, the C Epistles, and the lessons of the Psalmes and Prophets, which are in the masse, there would be found no danger to let go all the rest. Now then if we lay by through all France the su­perfluous things of the masse, are not all the rest of the exercises of religion alike? The Ca­tholikes go to the church to pray unto God; so doe we also. They goe to heare sermons of the word of God; so do we also. They go thither to praise God in singing of the Psalms of Da­vid; and we also. They go thither to keepe their Easter; and we also. For it is all one to ce­lebrate the Easter and the Supper. Breefly, all our exercises of Religion are alike. I know well you will say there is a difference, because the Catholikes pray and sing psalms in Latin; and we in French. But I answere you, that that is nothing, so that men understand what they say. For God understandeth well all languages. You will say unto me also, that the D preachers of the one and of the other preach not the same doctrine. Yet I answere, that though it be so, yet do we agree in all the principall points of Religion, which are necessary to be knowne for the salvation of our soules. If in any other points our preachers cannot agree, we must let thē agree amongst thēselves, and content our selves to know the articles which are necessary for our salvation. For it cannot be said, that if we cannot be as subtil and sharpe as S. Thomas of Aquin, Bonaventure, Scot, Bricot, or other like doctors of Theologie, that therefore we must needs be damned. It were a very straunge thing to be­leeve, that God would have his holy Religion so obscure, that none but Sophists should think to understand any thing of it. But contrary, we must beleeve, That God hath given it unto us, simple, cleare, and intelligible, that even plaine people might comprehend and E understand it. So if it please God, we need not leave to be saved, although wee know not what meaneth Transubstantiation, Concomitance, and such like tearmes, which are not read in the Bible; and although we be not so sharpe and quicke to understand the nature of quiddities, the subsistence of Accidens seperated from the subiect, the effects and opera­tions of second intentions, the motion of the Chimaere in Vacuitie, and other like deepe subtilties of speculative Theologie. But I have above shewed, that the Catholikes and [Page 84] we do well accord in the Sacrament of the Altar, or the Supper; so do we in the principall F points of Christian Religion. Demand of a Catholick, if he do not beleeve, That he shall be saved by the merite of the death & passion of our Lord Iesus Christ; he will say, yea, that he beleeveth it. Aske yet of him, if he do not beleeve, That one onely drop of the precious blood of our Savior, the eternall sonne of God, is sufficient to save all the world; hee will say, yea. Make upon it this consequence, That it followeth then, that the death and passion of Iesus Christ, who shed all his blood for us, is more than sufficient for our salvation; hee will not deny this. Aske him after, if he beleeve, that for our salvation there must be min­gled the blood of martyrs, supererogatorie works, merits of Saints, & good works, with the blood of Christ, the sonne of God; he will answere you, That hee beleeves not, that there must be such a mingle mangle, since the blood of the sonne of God is sufficient for our sal­vation, and that, that should be to pollute it, and that he knowes not what supererogatorie G workes are. And touching good workes, which they say we reiect: aske of the least child, which learnes his Catechisme, if a Christian ought not to do good workes, to shew himselfe a Christian; he will answere you, yea. Demand of him also, if good workes bee not meri­torious towards God; he will answere you, That they so please God, that (in regard of them as by merit) an infinit sort of good things are given us, as health, long life, children, and other graces, except eternall life, which he gives us by the only merit of Iesus Christ. I be­leeve there is no Catholike in the world which will say more of good workes than this. As for faith in generall, we receive both the one and the other, the holy Scripture of the old and new Testament. Touching Baptisme, we agree in the substance, namely, that it ought H to be done, In the name of the Father, the Sonne, and the Holy ghost, and with the signe of the water. We differ about spittle, salt, and the coniurations of devils, which the Catholike priests do say to be within the body of little children, and they chase them out: wee indeed cast off all this, as mens inventions, which would be wiser than God, who prescribeth them what they shall doe therein. And I assure my selfe; that the most part of the Catholikes would willingly, that those things were reiected; and that priests would not spit in the mouths of their little children; and that they had no salt at all; neither doe they beleeve there are divels within the bodies of their little children. We also differ in certaine other ceremonies, which I will not discover now at length. But must wee hereupon say, that the Catholikes and we, are of two divers religions? The Friers and Iacobins, and many other I sorts of Monkes in Christendome, have all different ceremonies, in habits, in rules, in do­ing their services and in all the exercises of their orders, yet they are all held to be of the Christian Religion. Moreover, though there were some difference betwixt us touching doctrine (seeing we accord in the principall points of Christian Religion) must there be accounted a pluralitie and diversitie of Religion amongst us, for the Canon Ego Beren garius? Must men make all that stir, to rore out all the Canons and artillerie of France, and thunder at all the townes and castles of the kingdome, to fill all places with armes, sol­diors, and all the townes with the blood of Christians, and to make red the rivers, for such a quarel as this? Must brother arme himselfe against his brother, the father against his sonne? must needs the Nobilitie ruin at it selfe? must all the people be trodden under K feet, & the whole realme be brought into a combustion. For verily, none makes war upon us, but because we wil not beleeve in the aforesaid Canon, and yet they which do this unto us, do not beleeve in it themselves, as we have before shewed. But yet there is a point that seemeth to be one of the most principall points of Religion, wherein we differ, namely, tou­ching the Pope, in whom we beleeve not. But I am of opinion, that the most part of Catho­likes beleeve in him no more than we; and that the matter is not of sufficient weight to [Page 85] make any great contention of. Our ancestors in times past have wel passed their time with­out A a Pope; and wherefore should not we do so, as well as they. In the time of king Charles the sixt, le bien ayme, there were two popes in Christendome, the one at Rome called pope Vrbane, and the other at Avignon, who was called Clement. The Christian princes and commonweales at this time knew not which was the better of them, yet some follow­ed the pope of Rome, and they were called Vrbanists; and others the Pope of Avignon, and they were called Clementines: and when that the pope died at Rome or in Avig­non, men elected alwayes another in his place: so that it appeared, that this pluralitie of popes would ever endure. The king of France and his Counsell were occasioned to exhort both of them to submit themselves to a Counsell, which might advise and ordaine, which of thē two should be Pope, or if the one or the other ought not to be. The king could never B persuade them to come to this accord; and especially the pope of Avignon was more back­ward than the other. Hereupon the king caused to assemble the vniversitie of Paris, and especially our masters of Sorbonne, to have their advice what he should doe in this case. At that time was there a learned Doctor in Theologie in Sorbonne Colledge, who was called M. Iohn de Gigenconet, who maintained, That the Catholike church might wel for a time be without a Pope, yea, for ever; & alledged many good reasons, which for times sake I will not here recite. Breefly, the Vniversitie was congregated, and thereby it was resolved, that the king ought to withdraw himselfe and all his kingdome from the obedi­ence of both the Popes, untill there were another legitimately elected. And that there were good means to be dispatched of the pope, viz. to leave the collations of benefices to the C ordinary Collators, and also to labour unto the prelates of Fraunce, for dispensations re­quisit. Hereupon the king made an Edict, with the advice of his daughter the Vniversitie, (so names he it) whereby inhibitions & defences were made to all subiects, as well of the Nobilitie and the Clergie, as of the third Estate, no more to acknowledge either of the said Popes, for Popes, neither any more to run either to Rome or Avignon, for the obtaining and impetration of benefices, dispensations, or other buls and provisions Apostolicall; but to the ordinary Collators, and to the Prelates of the French church, upon paine to be debarred of their pretended right, and other great punishments: which Edict was obser­ved by the space of three yeares: at the end of which time was a Pope chosen at the coun­sell of Pise, called Alexander the fift, under whose obedience the king and his kingdome D yeelded themselves. But the space of the said three yeares they did well ynough without a Pope in France: and so likewise during the said time of pluralitie of Popes, which endu­red forty yeares. And there were then many princes, which acknowledged neither the one nor the other for Popes; as the king of Aragon, the countie of Hainaut, the duke of Bre­taigne, the commonwealth of Liege. If then in times past so many could be without popes, why might we not as wel spare them now as then? But as I have said before, I see not why the Catholikes should so much care for the Pope, as to travell and iourny so farre as Rome to kisse his pantophle, nor to spend so much money to buy his pardons, being such vile and base marchandize. To conclude (my masters) it seemeth unto me by this breefe discourse, I have made hitherto, that my proposition is sufficiently cleared: That the Catholike and E we differ not in Religion, but do agree in all points necessary for our salvation.’ After that, that good parson had made us the said discourse, truly every one of us thanked him, but especially the Catholike gentleman, saying: That as for him he never beleeved otherwise A pleasant discourse of Friers ha­bits. the points which he had delivered, but even as hee had said: and that he would never have thought, that they of the Evangelike Religion had accorded so well with the Catho­likes, as he saw they did. ‘But said he (my masters) after so serious a discourse, it should not [Page 86] be impertinent to adde another, to make us laugh. All the companie prayed him to do it: F then begun he to say in this manner: I have above touched, how habites and apparrell brought no sanctitie to the masse: we may also say, That they adde no sanctitie to the persons, neither according to that common proverbe, Apparell makes not a Monke. Yet I find, that this question hath been sometimes handled with great contention and diversi­tie of opinions, which endured nigh fiftie yeares amongst the Friers, because they could not accord upon the colour, greatnesse, widenesse, and forme of their habites. For you must understand, that the glorious S. Francis, amongst other articles of his rule, hee had pla­ced one, whereby he ordained, That all that were of his Order, for apparrell, should cloth themselves with the basest, vilest, and of the lowest price that could be; that they should onely have one coat with an hood, and another without an hood; and that they should G weare no shoes, nor ride on horsebacke. Vpon the intelligence and interpretation of this article, arose great and marvellous altercations and disputations in the order of Friers: insomuch, that they held a generall Chapiter, to accord these disputations, and to rule themselves all by one sort of habites. For some wore habites of one colour, some of ano­ther, some short, others long; insomuch, that they seemed not to be of the same Order. In this Chapiter then was there a great disputation, about the intelligence and interpre­tation of the said article. About the last two points they were easie to agree: for seeing they were forbidden by the said article to ride on horsebacke, they resolved to ride but on Asses and Mules, or on foot, as commonly they do. They considered also, That Asses were fittest for them in their Covents, for being kept with least charge. As for shooes, H they resolved, That they would take away the most part of the leather, leaving onely a sole, with a thong, to go overthwart the foot, to make the sole fast to the foot, & so should they not be shoes, but soles. But the greatest difficultie and strife was about the fashion of the hood, and of the coat or Iacket. For in the said Chapiter were mooved three prin­cipall questions, by certaine subtile and cunning Friers. The first, upon the Colour: the second, upon the Quantitie: and the third, about the Forme. But to handle these three questions in order, you must understand, That about the colour there was divers opini­ons, upon which they could not accord. For the blessed S. Francis had spoken nothing of the colour in his rule: but only ordained, That they of his order should weare habites of a low price. Then fell out a great question: What colour was of least price, and thought to be I most vile. Some reasoned, That the greene colour was the vilest, and might bee bought cheaper than any other: and that it was ordinarily seene, that people of most vile conditi­on (as carters, marriners, and other meane people) did weare that colour, in lining to their doublets, as the worst colour of all. They said also, That the matter wherewith a greene colour is made, is cheaper than any other: for with hearbes and leaves, greene may bee made, to die both woollen and linnen. Others said, the murrey or smoakie colour was the worst & best cheap: for to make that colour, there need no more, but to take white wooll and soot. But the third opinion seemed to be best taken with reason and equitie. And that was they which said, That there was no viler colour nor more meet for their Order, than that which came from the beasts back it selfe. But it is so, that both white and black came from K the beasts backe: and it is evident, that the blessed S. Francis did so understand it, they should weare the colour of the beast in token of humilitie & patience; saying further: That all other colours cost something, & if it were but labour; but the colour of the beast cost no­thing. Therfore they concluded, That al the order of Friers ought to weare their garmēts either of white or blacke colour, and not of greene, smokie, or any other colours, & that this was their opinion. Assuredly these reasons of the first disputers were so pregnant, that they [Page 87] shaked al the rest of the company: yet notwithstanding they which had disputed for Green, A and smokie colours, thinking it not good to bee overcome at the first blow, replied more. They which have disputed of the colour of the beast (say they) do shew, that they hold some thing of the beast (speaking under the brotherly correction of their superiours, and the Chapiter) for that their conclusion is alternative and indeterminative. For they conclu­ded upon white and blacke, without resolving either upon the one or the other; and that such a conclusion implied evident contradiction. For (say they) there is nothing more con­trary than white and blacke. Moreover, they said, That if so be the colours of the sheepe should he worne of them, men would iudge it to be a token of their pride & presumption, which is the greatest of all mortall sinnes, because for pride Lucifer fell from heaven into hell: for the world may say of them, that they cover themselves with the colour of the B sheepe, and notwithstanding are ravening wolves: seeing it is written, That men must take heed of them, that make an outward countenance to be sheepe, and yet are woolves, and by that similitude are they noted to be false prophets. They shewed also, that alreadie other orders of beggers or Mendicants have taken possession of those two colours, blacke and white. For the Iacobins wore white under, and black above. And the Carmelites con­trary, blacke under, and white above: and generally, all sorts of other monkes, which held the rules of S. Augustine, S. Bernard, and blessed S. Benet, and others were all monks, either white, or blacke. And that it should not be well done to take frō them their colours, or to enterprise upon them: for so they might oppose themselves against them, and that, that was not the way to draw unto them the devotion of the world. Finally, they shewed, C that if their order of Friers tooke blacke, there are some countries where there are no blacke sheepe, or very few, as in Berry, Limoges, and Languedoc; then in these countries must they be forced to die their wooll, so would it become deare, and then directly should they do against the rule of blessed S. Francis, That bids them weare clothes of the vilest and cheapest price; this should also be to goe against their liberties and priviledges, To pay the least they can: for by their rule they are forbidden to handle any silver. And by the contrary, if the Order chuse a white colour, there are other countries, where there are no white sheepe, or few: as in Tuscane, and many other places, so that the Friers there must have their white clothes out of farre countries, which will be to their great cost, & so will be directly against the said rule, and their liberties. And therefore these disputers persi­sted D still in their first opinion for greene and smokie colours. The others which had reaso­ned for the colour of the beast, finding themselves pinched and pricked, replied, That that opinion of greene and smokie colour was the most savage opinion of the world, and accor­ding to the reason they had which maintained it. For (said they) greene is a colour fit for fooles. Moreover, in countries, where they say there is nothing but cole-blacke woll, how can they die that blacke, greene, or smokie? Finally, their disputation became so hot, that it was greatly to be feared they would have falne to fists, if certaine auncient fathers sit­ting in highest places, had not imposed silence to the brethren, & made them understand, That truly they had well and learnedly debated the matter both of the one part and of the other, and that they thought that the question was waightie, high and hard, and such as E merited the advice and resolution of the holy father the Pope, and that therefore they would reserve unto him the determination thereof. As soone as the Friers heard speake of the Pope, each one held his peace.’

‘After this, the senior Fathers caused to propose the second question of the three, for which the Chapiter was assembled, touching the quantitie of habits, that is, if they should be long, or short, wide, or strait. The first disputers (in great number) were all of advice, [Page 88] That their garments of Order ought to be short and strait for many good reasons, which F they alleaged: For, said they, habits short and strait, are more vile and better cheape than long and large, because they have not so much stuffe in them. Therefore since the glorious saint Frauncis our founder, would and ordained that we should weare habits of vile and little price, we can not better observe that holy rule (wherein consisteth the estate of per­fection) than in making our habits as short and as strait as is possible. Moreover (sayd they) our father and good founder S. Francis, hath he not appointed we should be Men­dicants, and livers upon the almes of good people? therefore we must make account to gather our almes to live, and to seeke it sometimes far off, upon paine to endure hunger and want; for we shall have little brought into our covent: then must wee trot hither and thither at all times, raine it or haile it, bee it hot, cold, drie, or wet, yea in Lent & Ad­vents, G to preach, but no kind of habits is more meet to overthwart the fields, than such as are short, for the long are unfit. Cōtrary, such as reasoned after, said, That the same opi­nion was strange and ridiculous; because, if Friers should weare short habits, they would seeme more liker Millers than Friers: and it is ordinarily seene, that in those countries where Friers use short habits, the Order was much despised & mocked of the world, and men called them curtall Friers: and therefore long and large were most covenable and fit for them; & that (the blessed saint Francis rightly understood) they should weare long habits: for in the said article hee useth the word Tunike, which signifieth a long robe or garment. Moreover, long habits are more seemely for religious men, and short garmēts for lay men: and that a long garment makes Religious men the most reverenced and ho­noured H in the world. They said further, that all other other sorts of Monks wore long and wide habits, and it should be a great noveltie, if the Order of the glorious S. Francis should take a short habit. Likewise (said they) when wee go into the pulpit to preach, or when we go to say Masse, ô it is a goodly sight to have our garments like Millers. There­fore they concluded, That their habits should be long and large. But the first reasoners re­plied to this, saieng to the first point, That the good saint Francis had taught them the way of humilitie, and that therefore they ought not to seeke to weare long garments, to be therefore honoured and reverenced of the world; for that tasted of pride, and not of his humilitie: and that they which are mocked and despised of the world, are esteemed of God; because the wisedome of the world is follie before God: and so contrarie. As for the I second point, they said, That this word Tunike in S. Benet his rule, signifieth not a long robe, but a little cloke or cassocke; and so is it found in frier Ambrose Calepin his dicti­onarie (who was of our Order) not a long robe, but Toga; and that therefore the rule makes for them in that point. So is it best that Friers weare short habits, as little clokes, and cassoks, or jerkins. And as for their obiection, That other Monks do weare long and wide garments; so much the better said they, and the rather should wee weare short and strait, that there may be a distinction betwixt us and others. As for their reason, That to weare short and strait garments, would make us like lay men: wee answer to that (say they) That the hood wil make a difference betwixt us and lay men; for the length of gar­ments can not distinguish us from lay people, for they also weare long robes, as Proctors, K Advocats, Counsellors, Huishers, Phisitions, yea even Merchants in their shops. We con­fesse (sayd they) that at the beginning it wil be a noveltie to see us weare garments short and strait with an hood, but time and custome will take away the strangenesse thereof, for in all things there is a beginning.’

‘The chiefe and antient fathers, rulers of this disputatiō, seeing their friers (who came in place to accord) to enter and grow further into contention and contrarietie of opinions, [Page 89] imposed them silence as they had done before upon the first question, and sayd unto them, A That they would remit to the holy Father, the decision & resolution of this high & hard question, touching the largenesse and length of habits: but yet they must advise, if at the least in this Chapter we may resolve upon the third question, touching the forme and fashion of these habits.’

‘So they began to demand voices, for to know whether their habits ought to bee single or double; if it be lawfull to have some fine and goodly fashion on them, or not; if they should have collars, or none; or skirts, or none; or sleeves, or no sleeves; or if sleeves, whe­ther hanging sleeves; if there must be an hood, whether it were not best to be pointed & sharpe, as the Carthusian Friers have, or round, as they of other Religions have. Vpon all those points there was great disputation, and all matters were well and subtilly disputed B of in this Chapter. It seemed to some, that it were not best to have hanging sleeves, for they were not comely, but rather wide and open sleeves, that they might serve for a scrip or pouch. For (said they) since our good father S. Francis hath commaunded us to beg and live of almes; and that by an article of his holy rule, he hath forbidden us to carry with us, poke, bag, or scrip; as also is forbidden us in the Gospell, it followeth well, that hee wold have us to understand, that we should have great & wide sleeves for to put our alms in. To this some answered, That wide sleeves were dearer than strait; for that they had more matter and stuffe in them, and therfore such sleeves are contrary to their rule. And as for the difficultie found out upon the forbidding of bags and scrips, and of the incon­venience that might follow thereof, for want of something to put in their almes: they C said, for this there were an help, viz. to take a man with them (which we may cal a Iudas) who may carry a bag or scrip for that use, yea, he may take silver, if any will give it us.’

‘Yet were there made many other great arguments and subtill allegations upon this question of the fashion of habites: and some thought it best, That that fashion of hoods which the Charter house Friers used, to be well, & best to be imitated. For that that sharp point above might allegorically signifie, that they had sharpe and quicke spirits; and ha­ving a fame and reputation to be so, their sermons would be more accounted of. But the good Fathers considering, That nothing could bee resolved in that Chapter; and that it was as expedient to send to Rome for three questions, as for two; they made the companie privie to their advice, namely, That it were best to send to Rome, to have the holy fathers D opinion and counsell upon these three questions; and that some of them present should goe for that purpose.’

‘Certaine time after, delegates of their Order tooke their iourney to Rome, unto Pope Nicholas, the third of that name, who raigned in the yeare 1280, which made him un­derstand all the said disputation, & the great disorder that was in their Order about the said three points. The Pope & his Cardinals were as much troubled to resolve those high and subtile questions, as the said Friers had been in their Chapter. Yet the Pope by the advice of the said Cardinals, made them upon this matter this resolution, That he ordai­ned and commaunded, that upon all those questions, that should be straitly kept and ob­served, which should be concluded and determined in a Chapiter generall, or els in Pro­vinciall E Chapiters, which to those ends should afterwards be convocated and assembled: upon condition notwithstanding, that alwayes there might bee seene shine in the Friers, and in their workes, an holy povertie, according to their holy rule. But this was to make them fall into a farre greater contention and disputation, than ever: so as also in their Chapiters which they held afterward, they could never accord, following that ordinance of the Pope; but resolved yet again to return to the Pope, which they did, but it was about [Page 90] one and thirtie yeares after the former time, during which time they held many Chapi­ters F to handle that matter.’

‘Comming then to no end in their Chapiters, they again sent delegates to Rome, to pope Clement the fift, who then held the Counsell at Vienna, anno Dom. 1311; who gave him to understand, How according to the ordinance of Pope Nicholas, his predecessour, they had done all that which possible they could, to overcome the aforesaid difficulties; which at length they recited unto him, but they could not accord upon any resolution. But contrarie, that as they disputed, there arose alwayes new difficulties and doubts in the fri­ers spirits, and that therefore they came to him, as to a very oracle of truth, who could and knew how to resolve all those doubts, and many others. The Pope having heard them, put the matter unto the determination of the Cardinals, Prelates, Doctors, and others assem­bled in that Counsell; you must thinke, that this whole Counsell was greatly troubled, as G before Pope Nicholas and his Cardinals had been. Yet that the said Friers might not go away as they came, without having answere from the Popes Oracle: there was delivered unto them indeed, a true Oracle, that is to say, an ambiguous and obscure answer, whereby the Pope by che advice of the said Counsell, commanded the gardiens & other cheefe mi­nisters of that Order, to iudge of the vilitie, colour, length, widenesse, and fashion of their said Order: the consciences of which commissaries and gardians he burdened; and com­manded all the Friers, That they should obey what their said gardians and ministers should resolve, without seeking out so many scruples and doubts, and without desire to know more than needed, by inventing so many subtilties. These delegates returned home H with a faire Bull, yet was it not possible by any vertue thereof, to set down a rule in habits. For alwayes the Friers found to speake against the advice and resolutions of their gar­dians, saying, They understood nothing, and that they had not read the text of the rule of blessed S. Francis, and that they were but beasts. In this contestation of Friers against their gardians and superiours, remained their affaires by a long and great space of yeares.’

‘Finally, in the yeare 1323, in the time of Pope Iohn, the two and twentieth of that name, who held his seat in Avignon, the gardians and superiors of that Order went to complain to his Fatherhood, shewing him, That they could not be obeyed, upon the resolu­tion they had made in vertue of the power which had been given them by the said Bull of I Pope Clement. So they humbly prayed his said Fatherhood, That he would vouchsafe to doe some good therein. The Pope to proceed in this matter more iuridically, or rather iu­dicially would heare the partie; and therefore sent to those Friers which refused to obey their gardians and superiors, That they should either come and make their reasons, or send the cause in writing, why they refused obedience. They sent them. The abovesaid Pope caused to assemble his Cardinals: and being in the Conclave, the allegations of the Friers pretended disobedience, were read, and no doubt found so great and admira­ble, so subtill and sharpe, that a flie could not there have placed her foot, and indeed they could never give a resolution thereof. True it is, that the Pope could doe no lesse for his honour, than to ordaine something. Therefore caused hee to expediate a Bull, wherein K he exceedingly praiseth the Buls of his predecessors, Pope Nicholas and Clement, and sayth, That he marvelleth how men cannot be contented with the resolution contained in them. After he makes declaration, That the vilitie of habits should bee measured, according to the custome of every countrey. After that, he giveth commission to the gardians and superiors of every Order (as did Pope Clement) to make a rule for the longitude, latitude, thicknesse, colour, fashion, and vilitie, as well of the Tunikes, [Page 91] as of the hood, and upon all other accidences, circumstances, and dependances; willing and A commanding them to obey the rule that should bee made, without any more framing so many obiects, arguments, and fantasticall contradicts.’

‘Behold in substance the content of Pope Iohns Bull; whereby it appeareth, That neither hee nor all the Papall Consistorie could ever give a law or a well determined resolution upon the matter of the dispute of Friers habits. I know not how since, they are accorded; but they have taken unto them the white and blacke colour, as it comes from off the beast, and of those two intermingled colours they have made a third co­lour, which, of them hath taken the name, and at this day are called Gray-friers. They have also chosen great side gownes and great hoods, as we see them weare at this day. Breefely, we see them accorded now of all their differences which they had touching the B fashion of their habits, except for the sleeves. For there are yet Friers with great sleeves, others with strayt sleeves.’

‘This is the discourse touching the Friers contentions, and the three Decretals, made by three Popes, upon that matter, whereof the last is called an Extravagant, as in truth it is, and may well be called Extravagant, and the other two also: Praying you (ma­sters) to take in good part this hystorie; for I have not told it, to displease any man; but to passe away the time whilest our horses eat their provender; I beleeve it will be now soone time to leape on horsebacke, every man to draw to his way.’ Vpon this, each man rose up from the table, every one contented to heare this discourse, which they never had heard before, as they all confessed. Then each man C tooke his count, payed, mounted on horsebacke, and went away. Now let us come to treat of Machiavell.

1. Maxime. F

‘A Prince above all things ought to wish and desire to be esteemed devout, though he be not so indeed. G’

THe World (saith Machiavell) looketh but to the exterior, and Cap. 18. of the Prince. to that which is in appearance; and iudgeth of al actions not by the causes, but by the issue and end: So that it sufficeth, if that the Prince seeme outwardly religious and devout, although he be not so at all. For let it be so, that some, vvhich most narrowly frequent his companie, doe discover that feined devotion, yet he or they dare not oppugne the multitude, who beleeve, the Prince to be truly devout. H

THis Maxime is a precept, whereby this Atheist Machiavell tea­cheth the Prince to be a true contemner of God and of Religion, and onely to make a shew and a faire countenance outwardly be­fore the world, to be esteemed religious and devout, although he be not. For divine punishment, for such hypocrisie and dissimulati­on, Machiavell feares not, because he beleeves not there is a God; but thinkes that the course of the Sunne, of the Moone, of the Starres, the distin­ction of the Spring time, Summer, Autumne, and Winter, the polliticke govern­ment of men, the production that the earth makes of fruits, plants, living creatures, I that all this comes by encounter and adventure: following the doctrine of Epicurus, (the doctor of Atheists, and master of Ignorance) who esteemes, that all things are done and come to passe by Fortune, and the meeting and encountring of atomes. But if Machiavell beleeved, that those things came by the disposition and establish­ment of a soveraigne cause (as common sence hath constrained Plato, Aristotle, Theophrastus, and all the other Phylosophers which have had any knowledge, to The order which is in nature, she­weth us, that there is one God. confesse it) he would beleeve there is one God, who ruleth & governeth the world, and all things within it. And if he beleeve there is one God, hee would also beleeve, that men ought to honour him as the soveraigne governour; and that hee will not be mocked of his creatures: And therefore will not he give such precepts, to make K a shew to be devout, and not to be. For what is it to mocke God, if that be not? But they that learne such lessons of Atheisme, and which put out their eyes, that they may not see so cleare a light, and which take pleasure to be ignorant of that which (as Cicero saith) even nature it selfe teacheth the most barbarous nations, That there is a God which governeth all things; let them (I say) know, that if they will not know God well, God will well know them, and will make them well feele, that such as [Page 93] spit against heaven, shall spit against themselves; when they shall feele how heavie A his hand weigheth, then shall they know, that there is a God, a revenger of them which reverence him not, but this knowledge shall be to their confusion and ruine. Many Atheists have been seene, which of a brutish boldnesse have made a mock of God: but it was never seene, that they felt not the punishment and vengeance of their audaciousnesse and impietie, as hereafter we will shew by examples. Yet wee have cause greatly to deplore the miserie and calamitie of the time wherein we are, which is so infected with Atheists, and contemners of God and of all Religion, that Atheists esteemed serviceable men. even they, which have no religion, are best esteemed, and are called in the court-lan­guage, people of service: because being fraughted with all impietie and Atheisme, and having well studied their Machiavell, which they know upon their fingers, they B make no scruple nor conscience at any thing. Commaund them to slay and massa­cre, they slay and massacre; commaund them to rob and spoile good Catholickes, and Cleargie men, they rob and spoile all. They hold benefices with souldiers gar­ments and short clokes, yet exercise no Religion, nor cares, but for the gaine ther­of. Commaund them to enterprise the betraying or impoysoning of this or that person, they make no scruple at it: yea, they themselves excogitate and devise all wickednesse and impieties, as the invention of so many new imposts upon the poore people, which they destroy and cause to die with hunger, without having any com­miseration Atheists in­ventors of imposts. or compassion upon them, no more than upon brute beasts. Not many yeares agoe, did not they invent the impost of processes, and contentions of law in C Fraunce? by the meanes of which impost, a poore man cannot seeke by law to reco­ver his owne, unlesse before hand he pay the said impost, and that he shewed his ac­quittance. But by the meanes of that generous prince of Conde (of happie memo­rie) it was taken away, by his complaints against these Atheists, inventors of such no­velties, which both by nation and religion are Machiavelistes. Have not they also invented new customes tributes, and imposts upon paper, upon Innes, to bee paid by travellers, upon the sales of exemptions for lodging souldiers, of wardships, of marriages, of Consulships, Syndikes, and other such like, which cannot bee devised but by impious people, which have neither love to their neighbour, nor to their countrey? the impost of the small seale, for sealing of contracts, came it not from D the same forge? If it had not been for the Evangelikes (which alone hitherto durst open their mouths to complain of these horse-leeches and blood-suckers) had they not lately made lawes and coined edicts to command tributes and summes of mony for each child that should be baptised? likewise to levie the twentieth part of every womans dowrie and marriage, upon the first conclusion of every mariage, yea, al­though after they breake off againe? Have they not established the vent and sale of offices of judgement, and so brought that now into common use, which was utter­ly abolished by the generall Estates at Orleans? have not they devised the offices of Counsellors without wages within Bayliwikes and Stewardships, and all for silver? Have they not, and yet every day doe they not cause the value of money to be augmented E for their owne profit? for after that by the meanes of their bankes, fermes, and other their dealings in the realme, they have gathered great heapes of money, they can at their pleasure enhaunce the value thereof, both in their hands and out of their hands. Yet none complaines thereof. But in the end it will produce and bring forth some great disorder and confusion (as hath sometimes been seen for like actions) for the reasons well ynough knowne to wise people. As for peace, these [Page 94] people never like of (for they fish alwayes in a troubled water) gathering riches and F heapes of the treasures of the Realme, whilest it is in trouble and confusion. They alwayes have in their mouths their goodly Maximes of their Machiavell, to em­peach and hinder a good peace. A prince (say they) must cause himselfe to bee feared, rather than loved: & this must be held as a resolved point. But if a peace be accorded to these rebels, such as they desire, then would it seeme that the king were afraid of his subjects, whereas he should make himselfe to be feared. True it is, that if such a peace could be made with them, as it might againe procure another S. Bar­tholmewes journey, nothing were so good & pleasant as that. For that is another re­solved point and Maxime, That a prince ought not to hold any faith or promise, but so farre, as concernes his profit: and that hee ought to know how to counterfeit the G foxe, to catch and entrap other beasts, and as soone as he hath them in his nets, to play the lion in slaying & devouring them. We have set downe unto us that good­ly example of Caesar Borgia, who in our country could so well counterfeit the said two beasts. Behold here the language and dealings of our Machiavelistes, which at this day men call people of Service: for that there is no wickednesse in the world so strange and detestable, but they wil enterprise, invent, and put it in execution, if they can. From whence comes it, that they be thus enclined to all wickednesse? It is be­cause they are Atheists, contemners of God, neither beleeving there is a God which Atheists encline to all wickednes, because they feare not the pu­nishment of God. seeth what they doe, nor that ought to punish them. It is that goodly doctrine of Machiavell, which amongst other things complaines so much, that men cannot H be altogether wicked (as we shall touch in his place.) These good disciples (seeing that their master found this imperfection amongst men, that they could not shew themselves altogether and in all things wicked) doe seeke by all meanes to attaine a degree of perfect wickednesse. And indeed they have so well studied and profited in their masters schoole, and can so well practise his Maximes, that none can deny, but they are come unto the highest degree of wickednesse. What need men then to be abashed, if they see in the world, and especially in this poore kingdome of France, such famine, pestilence, civile warres, the father to band against his sonne, brother against his brother, they of the same Religion one against another, with all hatred, envie, disloyaltie, treasons, perfidies, conspirations, empoysonments, & other great I sinnes to raigne? Is there any marvaile if the people goe to wracke, the Cleargie be impoverished, the Nobilitie almost extinct? For it is the first judgement and venge­ance of God, which he exerciseth against us: because some are filled with all impie­tie and Atheisme, which they have learned of Machiavell: and others which should resist such impieties, least they should take root, doe suffer them to encrease & aug­ment. So that indeed all men are culpable of Atheisme, impietie, of the despight of God and Religion, which at this day raigneth. Therefore most righteously dooth God punish us all. For Atheisme and impietie is so detestable and abhominable be­fore Impietie punished of God. God, that it never remaineth unpunished.

The Emperour Caius Caligula was a great Atheist and contemner of God. He K was cunning enough to practise Machiavell his Maximes. For, to counterfeit his Suet. in Cal. cap. 51. Dion in Calig. devotion, he caused to be bruted, That he often spake with Iupiter; and that he had great familiaritie with Castor and Pollux, which he said were his bretheren; and that he had good acquaintance with the Moone: by this meanes he not only persuaded the people that he was very devout, but also that (by the means of that privitie with the gods) he participated even the diuinitie with thē: & yet never man more boldly [Page 95] despised all divinitie than he. But consider what such kinde of people are: there was A never cowardlie beast more fearfull than this wicked Atheist; as soone as he heard it thunder (saith Suetonius) he would cover and quickly wrap his head, and hide him in and under his bed. I pray you what other thing was this but an extreame feare of conscience, when he heares the thundering and resounding voice of him whom he contemneth? One day being beyond the Rhine, with a great and puissaut armie, as he passed over a little straite on foote, one that was nigh him began to say unto him; Sir if now the enemie should appeare and shew himselfe, wee could not be without feare? What then did this cowardly Atheist? at that word he straight mounted on horseback, and fled as fast as he could. But as he was cowardlie, so was he very cruell, and so shall you almost ordinarilie finde in these Atheists, both crueltie and cowar­dise B together. In the end God sent him his due reward, for he endured not long, but was massacred and slaine by Cassius Chaerea and Cornelius Sabinus, captaines of his guarde, whereby this wicked contemner of God, felt the just divine vengeance, and so knew he, that he was a mortall man, and not God, that caused himselfe to bee worshipped as a God. Dion writeth, That after his death some did eat of his flesh, to prove if the flesh of the gods were of a good tast.

The emperour Phillipus (who raigned in the primitive Christian church) was a wicked Arabian, who had no feare of God, but was the most cruell and wicked of the Pompo. Lae­tus in Philli. world, as commonlie Arabians are: yet to cover his vices & wickednesse, he did that which Machiavell commaundeth a Prince here; for he fained to be a Christian, and C something fauoured the Christian Religion, which before had beene greatly perse­cuted; but God soone punished this dissimulation and hypocrisie, for he raigned but five yeares, and by his souldiers was massacred, both he and his sonne, at Verone.

The emperour Iulian (who was called the Apostata) all the time of his youth, in the time of Constantine the Great his uncle, was instructed in the Christian Religi­on: Pompo. Lae­tus in Iuli. Am. Marel, lib, 21 & 2 [...]. but upon a foolish curiositie, he gave himselfe to diviners and sorcerers, to know things to come, which made him forsake the Christian Religion: yet he alwaies feig­ned himselfe to be a Christian, because for the most part, the nobilitie and the men of warre were so; therefore to please them, he often went unto the Christians Chur­ches, and there used the exercises of their Religion. After he was created emperour D in the towne of Paris, and had set a sure foote in the empire, he began to discover that which he had alwaies kept in his heart: that is, To make open the Temples for Images, and to set vp the Paynims Religion, which Constantine the Great had sup­pressed, and to establish their sacrifices: and although hee durst not prohibit the ex­ercise of Christian Religion, yet under hand he sought by all meanes to destroie it: for he forbad that any should receive any Christians to be regents, and balemai­sters, and caused to be sowen all manner of partialities and divisions (that he could) amongst Christians. Finallie after he had raigned by the space of a yeare and seven moneths, he was slaine of the age of two and thirtie yeares, making warre against the Persians. Some write, That as he died, he blasphemed despightfully against Christ, E crying: Thou hast vanquished thou Galilaean. Behold the unhappie end of this Atheist and Apostata.

It is commonly seene, That such men as have no God, doe give themselves to sorcerers and diviners: for of necessitie they must have a master, and after they have forsaken God, they must needs take the devill for their master and governour. The emperour Bassianus Caracalla being a true contemner of God, fell to delight in [Page 96] magicke and witcherie: insomuch, that by the art of necromancie he would needs F Dion in An­to. Caracalla. Herod. lib. 4. cause to come unto him the soule of his father Severus, and the emperour Commo­dus, to know of them if he should recover of the disease whereof he was sicke. The soule of his father (or rather some evill spirit) appeared to him, holding a naked sword in his hand, but spoke not a word unto him: but that of Commodus appearing also, said unto him these words: Get thee to the gallowes. Being in warfare in Meso­potamia, he had two lieutenants generall, Audentius and Macrinus, which hee in­cessantly outraged and mocked, so that neither of them greatly trusted him: he had also at Rome one Maternianus, who executed all his affaires, whom hee much tru­sted: therefore hee sent unto him a commaund, to assemble all the diviners, sorce­rers, and negromancers, that could be found, to consult together, and so search out, G if any secret enterprise were intended or practised against him. Maternianus execu­ted his commandement, and upon a consultation of them, they made answere that Macrinus had determined to slay the emperour Bassianus. Maternianus (which before loved not Macrinus) failed not to advertise the emperour hereof: but the packet of letters was presented unto him at a certaine houre, when hee was very at­tentive, and given to take his pastime: insomuch, as hee commanded Macrinus his lieutenant, who was by, to take the packet, and open it, to tell him the substance of them after, at some houre of Counsell. Macrinus tooke the packet, and opened it, within which he found many letters, speaking of many of his affaires: and amongst others, one was found, containing there solution of the said consultation. Macrinus H then was much abashed, and joyfull withall: abashed he was, that the said deceiving diviners and necromancers laid to his charge a thing, whereof hee never thought. Ioyfull also he was, that that letter fell not into the emperours hands, whom he knew to be very cruell, and readie to execute his choller. Therefore he hid from him this letter, and shewed him the other: but thinking of his owne cause, he resolved to slay his master, rather than to attend whilest he were slaine himselfe, and the sooner, for feare Maternianus should write againe of the same cause. Macrinus then suborned a captaine of certaine footmen called Martialis (which also had himselfe a quarell to the emperour) to slay him: who espying one day the emperour going out of the way to emptie his bodie, he slew him with many prickes of a dagger. So that a man I may say, that it was the divell which played him this part, because he trusted in di­viners and necromancers. For had it not been, that consultation, wherby Macrinus was brought in perill of his life, he durst never have enterprised that which hee did. But necessitie makes men enterprise, yea even the most cowards.

The yeare 1411 the lord de Rays in Bretaigne, marshall of Fraunce, to come un­to Monstr. lib. 2. cap. 248. great estate and honours, gave himselfe to sorcerie and negromancie, and caused many little children to be slaine for their blood, wherewith he writ his divelish invo­cations. The divell brought him to that greatnesse and height, that hee was taken prisoner by the commaund of the duke of Bretaigne, who caused his indictment to be made, and he was publikely burned at Nantes. K

There may be alleaged infinit examples of the judgements of God excercised a­gainst Atheists, contemners of God and of all religion, yea euen in our time, as of that tragicall Poet Iodellius, whose end was truly tragicall, having like an Epicurean eaten and drunken his patrimonie, he miserably died through hunger. Lignerolles also, the courtier, who to make it appear that he was a man of service, in court made an open profession of Atheisme: and what was his end? Certaine it is, that from [Page 97] whence he looked for his advancement, he received his merited ruine and destructi­on. A And la Lande, Bissy Gaiscon, and others (which I will not name for the respect I have of their parents) had they not unluckie ends, after they had emptied and spoy­led themselves of all pietie and Religion? But I will not stay here to make plaine so cleere a thing of it selfe: yet would I set downe one example very notable for hypo­crits which make themselves great Zelators of the holy mother church, and under False Zela­tors of the ancient Re­ligion▪ spoi­less & wic­ked. that pretext and colour, they bring into ruine and combustion their owne countrey, saying, That men ought inviolably to keepe the Religion of his predecessors: and in the meane while, their hearts tende to no other purpose but to spoile, saccage, and enrich themselves with the publike ruine.

Iosephus rehearseth: That in the time of the emperour Claudius, and the emperor B Nero, the Iewes raised up many ciuill warres in Iudea and Samaria, & that so custom­ablie, Ioseph. de bel­lo. Judaico. lib. 4. cap. 5. & lib. 7. that they made no accompt of any other occupation, but to live by booties & rapines; so that Vespasian, lieftenant generall for the emperor Nero, was sent against them with a great armie: all the wickedest men of the countrie which were worth no­thing, and which could not live but of the good men, gathered themselves toge­ther, & called themselves Zelators; saying, they would fight for the Temple of Ieru­salem, & for the conservation of that Religion, which they had received and learned of their forefathers; and that (to die for it) they would not permit any other Religion to be received and exercised in their countries, but their owne that was auncientlie used from hand to hand, of their auncestors, since Moses and Abraham. Vnder the C shew of this goodly name of Zelators, and under colour of this boasting, that they would fight & die for the conservation of their ancient Religion, they take vp armes and elected for captaines the worst persons they could finde amongst them. Vespasi­an many times cavsed it to be tolde them (even by Iosephus who writ this historie, and was of their owne nation, and had beene a captaine) that he would change nothing of their Religion, but maintaine them therein, and in all their liberties and franchi­zes: but (like verie hypocrites and liers) they thinking one thing with their hearts, and saying another with their mouths, would never hearken unto peace in any sort, nor upon any condition whatsoever. Vespasian seeing their stubbornesse, was con­streined to war upon them in all extremitie, which endured long, yea untill he came D to the empire, after the deaths of Nero, Galba, Otho and Vitellius, which raigned not long. Finallie these goodlie Zelators, which would never hearken unto peace, by their obstinacie came to such an extremitie, that they themselves set their temple on fire in Ierusalem (for the conservation whereof they said they fought) and burnt it wholie; they overthrew also both themselves and their Religion, for which they bore armes, and committed a thousand sorts of cruelties & impieties, saying they fought for pietie. Brieflie, this devoute zeale which they bragged they had to the ancient Religion of their fathers (although they had but a masking and false countenance thereof) was cause of the ruine of Ierusalem, and of all the countrie, and of the death of a million of men. F

A prince then must take an other maner of resolution, than that whereof Machi­avell speaketh; namely, That he resolve himselfe to feare God, and to serve him with an heart, pure, and without dissimulation, according to his holy commaundements, in doing the exercises of the true & pure Religion of God, which is the Christian: if he do this, God wil blesse him, and make him prosper in his affairs. Hereof there may be alleadged many examples; I will content my selfe with a few of the most notable. Godlinesse blessed of God.

[Page 98] The emperour Marcus Antonius the philosopher, a prince both good and wise, F Xiphil. apud Dionin Mar­co. Anto. Ca­pitol. in Mar. though a Painim, making warre against the Marcomanes and Quadiens, people of Alemaigne, was once with all his armie in a uery great danger and perill, being en­closed in a withered and drie countrie, where his souldiers for lack of water died of drought: insomuch as his enemies keeping the passage, intended to vanquish them without any stroake striking. By hap (or rather by Gods providence) the emperour had in his armie a legion of Christians, and it was told him by his lieutenant gene­rall, That he had heard say, that those Christians by their praiers, obteined of God whatsoever they demaunded: which the emperour vnderstanding, addressed him­selfe to them of that legion (which was a good zeale in the Painim, though without knowledge, and praied them that they would pray unto their God for the salvation of his armie: Which presently they did with a good heart; desiring God, in the G name of Iesus Christ our Saviour, to conserve that armie, and the emperour their prince, and to draw them from the danger wherein they were. Soone after their prai­ers, God hearing them, sent presently a terrible lightning upon the enemies, and a great rain fell upon the Roman soldiers, who had died of thirst, but that they recei­ved the raine upon the hollow bottoms of their targuets, bucklers, and morrions. In somuch that the God of hosts fighting for them, they got the victorie without stroke striking, cleane contrarie from that the Marcomans & Quadiens looked for: where­upon the emperour was much ravished with admiration, and after greatly honoured the Christians. H

Constantine the Great, the first Christian emperour, besides that he overcame Li­cinius and Maxentius, great enemies of the Christian Religion, hee also obtained Pomp. Laetus in Licinio & Constantino. many goodly and triumphant victories against the Sarmats, Gothes, and Scythians, happy he was and victorious, because he had the feare of God and the Christian Re­ligion, in exceeding great honour and reverence. As much may we say of the empe­rour Theodosius, Iustinian, and other Christians. As much may we say of our kings of Paul. Aemil. lib. 1. & 2. Egninartus in Carolo magno. Fraunce, Charls Martell, and Charlemaine, which prospered in the wars they had a­gainst the high Almans, Saxons, Frisons, and against the Gothes, Huns, Visegoths, Lombards, and Sarasens, al which were then Painims and infidels; of which they ob­tained great victories, and brought them to be subject unto their obedience. This I grace came not to them to be such victors by their own forces, seeing their enemies were farre stronger than they, considering their forces and number of armed peo­ple: but that grace came unto them by the favour of God, whom they served with­out feinednesse and hypocrisie, having the Christian Religion in great and singular recommendation and reverence. As much may wee say also generally, of the most part of our French kings. For amongst them we find none such as Caligula, Cara­calla, or such other monsters full of impietie and Atheisme, till lately some few have been found, not much inferior unto them.

David was marvellous happie in warre, and alwayes victorious over his enemies, because hee was a good prince, fearing God, and honouring his holy Religion. K Salomon his sonne, as long as he, served God sincerely, without feigning and hy­pocrisie, he prospered very well and mervailously in a great and happie peace, and none durst stirre him. But as soone as hee begun to practise the doctrine which Machiavell teacheth, namely, To have a feigned and dissembled Religion and de­votion, straight had he enemies on his head, which rose up against him: as Adad the 2. Kin. ca. 11. Edomite, and Razin, which made warre upon him. So, generally may bee said of all [Page 99] the kings of Iuda and of Israel, one after another. That God hath alwayes caused to A prosper, such as were pure and sincere in Religion, and which have had his service in recommendation: and contrary, upon such as were impure, and hypocrites in Re­ligion, he hath heaped ruines, calamities, and other vengeances.

But I pray you consider a little, the reason wherewith Machiavell proveth his Ma­xime. Because (sayth hee) the people looketh but at the exterior and outward shew of things, it is sufficient, that the prince shew himselfe outwardly devout, although he be not devout at all. Ought Religion then to serve for nothing but to please and be agreeable unto the people? or ought it not rather to serve, to make men agreea­ble to God? But how wouldest thou that God should like and take pleasure in thy Religion (hee that sees the bottome of thy heart, and soundeth the deepest of thy B thoughts) if it bee similed and faigned, and that thou beest an hypocri [...]e? Neither may Machiavell, nor the Machiavelistes (that is to say, the Atheists of our time) thinke men so sencelesse and grosse, as they cannot soone discover their hypocrisies and dissimulations. Many there are in the world, which thinke by their subtilties and dissemblings to be covered and hid, yet are sufficiently knowne: and how crafti­ly soever they doe it, all the world knoweth, there is nothing but impietie and wic­kednesse in their hearts. Suppose therefore these simulations and hypocrisies come to be discovered in a prince, I pray you into what honour and reputation will hee fall? Shall he not be mocked, blamed, and despised of his subjects. If seeing himself discovered, hee make an open profession of impietie and of Atheisme (as wee see C many persons there are which doe it, because they cannot longer hide their impie­tie) shall not this be publickely to authorise all impletie and despight of God and of all Religion? For certain it is, That men (which are naturally more enclined to evill than to good) when they see their prince follow that course, will doe as he doth: be­cause ordinarily subjects doe conforme themselves to the manners and conditions of the prince. Behold then the consequence of that most wicked and detestable do­ctrine of that wicked Atheist, which is to bring all people to a despight and a moc­kerie of God, and his Religion, and of all holy things, and to let go the bri­dle to all vices and villanies. From which, God keepe us by his grace, and destroy all them, which teach so wicked doctrines, if D they will not amend; as certainly he will do, and so let them looke for.

2. Maxime. F

‘A Prince ought to sustaine and confirme that which is false in Religion, G if so be it turne to the favour thereof.’

SAge and prudent princes (sayth Machiavell) doe counte­nance Discourse, lib. 1. cap. 12, 13, 14. and allow false miracles; because alwayes they are meanes to augment the peoples devotion. For vvhen the people seeth, that the prince approoveth them, none makes any diffi­cultie to beleeve them after him. Christian princes also should therin imitate the old Romanes, vvhich by deceitfull miracles, feigned false revelations to encourage their souldiers to execute some enterprise, H and to cause their subiects to obey their ordinances. For they caused to publish, either that they had read in the bookes of the Sibyls, or that they had consulted vvith the Oracle of Apollo, or that they had had such or such a revelation, or els that the flight of birds, or other like tokens, had signified unto them a good augure or divination: insomuch, that the people being persuaded, they vvere true, and de­nounced of their gods, they obeied vvith great good vvill, that vvhich was commanded them by their captaines and magistrates, as if the I gods themselves had commanded [...]hem. In the meane vvhile the Ro­mane heads and captaines knew of vvhat account this marchandize was.

THis Atheist after he hath given the prince a document, To hold all Religion in his heart as a mockerie, and onely to shew outwardly a faire semblant and countenance of devotion; now passeth hee fur­ther, and desires, That the prince should maintain falsenesse in Re­ligion. I pray you, can there bee found in the world a greater im­pietie K and wickednesse than this? Are wee not beholden to them that have authorized and given countenaunce unto the writings of this stinking Atheist: yea, unto them, which have into the French made two or three transla­tions, the better to empoyson that nation. Certaine it is, That the truth in all Falsenesse incompati­ble with Religion. things is very commendable, but most especially, when it deales in causes and matters of Religion. For since that Religion is the thing, which (according [Page 101] to the ancients definition) bindeth us with God, how can falsenesse, her contrarie, A bind and unite us with God, who is truth it selfe? Is darkenesse conpatible and soci­able with light, or the obscure shaddow with the Sunne? Nay rather, wee alwayes see, that darkenesse vanisheth and disperseth away by the light, the shaddow also fli­eth the Sunne, and hideth it selfe alwayes behind some opposit. Therefore have the auncient doctors of the Church said and held for a principle of Theologie, That much better it were, a scandale and offence should come, than that Truth should be forsaken. Which sentence even the Popes themselves have caused to be placed amongst their rules of Cannon right, and would to God they had observed it. But I see well it is to no purpose to alleadge reasons against this Atheist and his Reg. 1. de Reg. Iuris in VI. disciples, which beleeve neither God nor Religion: wherefore, before I passe any B further, I must fight against their impietie, and make it appeare to their eyes (at the least if they have any) not by assailing them with armes of the holy Scripture, (for they merit not to bee so assailed, and I feare to pollute the holy Scriptures a­mongst people so prophane and defiled with impietie) but by their proper armes and weapons, whereby their ignorance and beastlinesse, defendeth their renewed Atheisme.

They then tooke for a foundation, humane reason, and prophane and Paynim authors: but in truth both the one and the other foundation, are so much against them, as even by them I will prove our Christian Religion. For first, if wee consider the least creature in the world, and sound the causes of his essence and nature, it will Every crea­ture leadeth mā to God. C leade us by degrees to one God. Take an ante or a flie, and consider the causes which makes these little creatures moove; you shall finde it is heat and moisture, which are two qualities consisting in all living creatures, nourishers of nature: for assoone as heat & moisture faile in any living thing, it can no more live, nor moove, & straight is the body occupied with contrarie qualities, coldnesse and drought, the enemies of nature. Mount and ascend vp higher, and consider what is the cause, that in the little bodie of an ante or flie, there are found the two qualities of heate and moisture; you shall find, that it is because all living creatures are composed of the foure ele­ments, of fire, of aire, of water and of earth, in which, the said foure qualities, of heat, moisture, colde, and drinesse do consist; and whilest heate and moisture raigne in the D bodie, it liveth; but when colde and drought doe dominiere therein, than dieth it. Consider further what is the cause of the heate and the moisture, and the other qua­lities which we see in the foure elements, and in the bodies made of them; you shall finde that the Sunne is cause of the heate, and the Moone cause of the moisture, as sence and experience shew it. Let us yet passe further, and seeke the cause wherefore the Sunne is hoate, and the Moone moiste, and from whence come unto them these qualities of heate and moisture: wee must necessarilie now come to a first and sove­reigne cause, which is one God: for the Sunne or Moone (which are corporall and finite things, as we see with our eyes) cannot be God, who is of infinite essence. Be­hold then how the least creature of the world, is sufficient to vanquish by naturall E reason the opinion of the Atheists: how much more if wee come to consider other creatures, and especiallie the composition of mans body? for there shall you con­template without going any further, so well ordered a rule, that of necessitie must be concluded, That there is a most ingenious and excellent workeman (other than the Sunne and Moone) which hath disposed that architecture and building: for within mans bodie you shall see appeare an harmonie, verie like a well governed common­wealth: [Page 102] you see the minde and understanding of man, which is as the king that is set F in the highest place, as in his throne, and from thence commandeth all the parts: you see also the heart, the seat of amitie, clemencie, bountie, kindnesse, magnanimi­tie, and other vertues, all which obey the understanding as their king, but the heart as the great master, hath them all under his charge: it hath also under his charge, envie, hatred, vengeance, ambition, and other vices which lodge in the heart, but they are holden, mewed, and bridled, by the understanding: after, you have the liver which is the superintendent of victuals, which it distributeth unto all the parts of the bodie, by the meanes of his subalterne and inferiour officers, as the bellie, & veines, and other pores and passages of the bodie: brieflie, a man may see within man, an admirable and well ordeined disposition of all the parts, and it brings us necessari­lie, G and whether we will or no, to acknowledge, that there must needs be a God, a so­vereigne architect, who hath made this excellent building: and by these considera­tions of naturall things, (whereof I do but lightlie touch the points) the auncient philosophers, as the Platonists, the Aristotelians, Stoickes, and others, have beene brought to the knowledge of a God, and of his providence: and of all the sects of philosophers, there was never any, which agreed not hereunto, unlesse it were the sect of the Epicures, which were gluttons, drunkards, & whoremongers, which con­stituted their sovereigne felicitie in carnall pleasures, wherein they wallowed like brute beasts. Out of this schoole, Machiavell and the Machiavelists come, which are well inough knowne to be all very Epicureans in their lives, caring for nothing H but their pleasures; which also have no knowledge of good letters, contenting them selves with the Maximes of that wicked Atheist.

Touching the doctrine of the Trinitie which we hold, it must bee confessed, that the philosophers understood nothing thereof: and that by humane reason wee can not well be lead to the knowledge thereof: but this knowledge is manifested unto us by the witnesses of God himselfe, which are so cleare and evident in the holy scrip­ture, as nothing can be more: but I have no purpose here to recite them; yet will I say: That the doctrine which I hold in this place; is not repugnant nor contrary unto The d [...]ct [...]in of the T [...]initie is not re­pugnant to human rea­son. humane reason, but consonant enough, although the ancient philosophers have not penitrated so far. For by their owne Maximes a very true thing it is, That God (who I is an eternall and infinit spirit) is not passible of any qualities or accidens: so that, that which is a qualitie in men, as bountie, love, wisedome, an essence in God. This presupposed, as a thing confessed of the philosophers themselves; it followeth, That, that infinit & admirable wisdome, wherby God knoweth himselfe, is an essence, and not a qualitie in God: yea it is one & the same essence, yet is it a distinct subsistence or hypostasis, from him. For, the Wise, and Wisedome, cannot be without distin­ction. This Wisdome then, is the second person of the Trinitie; which the scripture calleth the Word, or the Sonne. Neither also is it repugnant to humane reason, to say, That these two persons in one and the same essence, have an infinit and mutuall Intelligence together: which Intelligence proceedeth equally from two persons, the K Father and the Sonne, as they are of equall essence, yet can not be confounded with them, although the said Intelligence be the same essence: for Intelligens (understan­ding) and Intelligentia (the understanding) ought to be distinguished. This Intelli­gence is the third person of the Trinitie, which the scripture calleth the holy Spirit. Behold then, how mans braine may something comprehend by naturall reason, the doctrine which wee hold of the Trinitie, by a rude and grosse description, which is [Page 103] like to that which the Geographers take to pourtray all the earth; namely, in five or A six grosse lines, in a paper of an hand breadth. For the knowledge that our sence can have of so high a thing, is farre lesse in comparison of the full truth thereof, than is such a portrature of the Geographers in comparison of all the earth: and therefore will I well confesse, that we neither need nor ought much to travaile, to dispute by humane reason, of so high a thing, which of it selfe is infinit and incomprehensi­ble to our sences and understanding; and that they which doe least dispute with phi­losophicall reasons, are most wise & most modest; and that we ought wholie to hold and resolve upon that which is written by & in the holy Scripture. But having to do with Atheists, which receive not the witnesses of the word of God, it hath made me shew in few words, That even by humane reason it selfe, they may be vanquished by B the truth of that doctrine which we hold. Let us now come to another point.

Naturall reason, and common sence teacheth us, That there is one God, and that he is perfect in all perfection, for otherwise he could not be God: this is a point re­solved. Hereof necessarily followeth it, That God is perfect just, and perfect merci­full. Being perfectly just, by the rule of Iustice, he must needs condemne and re­ject all mankinde: for all men generallie are vicious, and vice meriteth condemna­tion: but if God should condemne and reject all mankind, it should be repugnant to his mercie, which also ought to be perfect with effect. How then? shall we say, that God cannot be perfectlie just and mercifull together, because it seemeth that his mercie repugneth his justice? God forbid that such blasphemie should proceed out C of our mouths. But we say: That thereby, naturall reason leads us to a Mediator, who being God and perfect, hath satisfied the Divine justice: which satisfaction God the creator accepteth of mankind, because the mediator is man also: and by the meanes of this great mediator God and man, which the creator hath given us, hee hath shewed himselfe perfectlie just, in receiving of him a satisfaction condigne to his justice, and perfectlie mercifull in pardoning us for his sake: without which media­tor we evidentlie see, that God cannot shew himselfe perfectly just and mercifull to­gether, that is to say, that he cannot shew himselfe to be God, for the Father cannot be without the sonne. It is then a true demonstration drawne from most certaine and evident principles: There is one God, therefore he is perfect. If God be perfect (as D no doubt he is) he is then perfectlie just and mercifull, but he cannot be both, with­out a mediator God and man. Euclide nor Archimedes ever made more certainer demonstrations.

But this mediator which the creator hath given to men, to make manifest his perfect justice & perfect mercie, is his eternall Sonne, the wisdome of the father; in favour of whom, as well before he came into the world, and had taken our nature, as since, men have enjoyed the mercie and clemencie of God, in employing that me­diator, to satisfie the justice of God. This mediator was promised and established to men from the beginning of the world, and since that, his promises have beene so of­ten reiterated, that not only they have beene notoriovs to the particular people of E God, which followed the true Religion, but also to other people which follow false Religion. The Historiographer Suetonius (a Paynim, who never read any part of ho­lie Scripture) speaking of Vespasian, as though it were a vulgar and common thing, saith thus: Through all the East countries alwaies there hath beene a constant and auncient opinion, as a thing certaine, that it was so ordeined and foretolde of God, That from Iudea should come the dominator and ruler of the world. ‘As much saith [Page 104] the Historian Tacitus (a Paynim also that never saw holy letters) when he said (speak­ing F of the same time of Vespasian:) Many have this persuasion, that within the spi­rits and writings of the auncient priests was conteined, that at that time the East should be in great power, and that from Iudea should come the dominator of the world.’ By which witnesses of these two Historigraphers, is clearlie seene, that the promise of Messias the dominator of the world, was knowne to everie one: but not onelie the Paynims, but the Iewes also themselves understand this of a temporall domination: and indeed these two former historiographers, and Iosephus himselfe Joseph. lib. 7. cap. 12. de bel Juda. (who was a Iew interpreted this prophecie of Messias) of Vespasian, who was created emperour of the Romane empire, being in Iewrie in warre against the Iewes. But this foolish and rash interpretation, is nothing excusable in Iosephus, who vaunteth G that he himselfe was cunning, foretelling things to come, and in the knowledge of the bookes of Moses, and of the other Prophets: for all the Prophets doe all clearlie say, That Messias ought to be borne of the race of Abraham, of Iuda, and of Dauid: yea especiallie and plainly, the place it selfe where he should be borne, that is to say, in Bethlem, a little towne of the tribe of Iuda. But Iosephus knew well that Vespasian was neither of that race, nor borne in the towne of Bethlem: but wee must beleeve that Iosephus understood better than he writ, and that falslie he attributed that pro­phecie of Messias, to the emperour Vespasian, upon a flattering humor, because he had received so many great favours and benefits of him.

And as for that which Tacitus and Suetonius, have attributed unto the emperour H Miracles of Christ a [...]i­buted unto Princes. Vespasian that prophecie, rather then to Christ, men must not mervaile thereat, for they were great enemies of Christ, as is seene by many other places of their historie. With the same faith Tacitus saith, That the emperour Vespasian being in Iewry, hea­led a blinde man which saw nothing, with his spittle: and another which had a drie Tacit. annal. [...]ib. 20. hand, wherewith he could not helpe himselfe: for these indeed were the miracles of Christ, which these prophane historians would steale from him, to attribute unto Dion in Vesp. their emperours. And the better to discover their theft, by their owne writings, we must first marke, that Tacitus himselfe saith, That the blind man comming to Vespa­sian, and falling on his knees before him, said, and declared unto him, that he had had a revelation from the god Serapis, to addresse himselfe unto him: of which god, I Tacitus himselfe saith, that even in his time none knew his originall at Rome. But these painims (which knew not Christ nor any Christian religion, but a little by hear­say) did thinke that the Christians adored that pretended god Serapis, as is seene by a missive which the emperour Adrian writ to Servianus consull, recited by Vopiscus, Vopis [...]us in Saturnina. by whome it is said expresly, That in the towne of Alexandria, they which worship­ped Serapis were Christians. So that hereby we may know, even by Tacitus his owne confession, that the author of that miracle to heale the blind man, was that God which the Christians adored, which was Christ, and not Serapis. But as ordinarily it happeneth, things that are done in far countries, are disguised by such as tell them; so must we understand, that men spoke well all over the world of the miracles which K Christ and his Apostles had done in Iudea, and in places thereabout, but they dis­guised them, attributing them to strange gods, and to prophane men, and never ac­counted them as the very truth was. Of the same stampe is that which Suetonius writeth, saying that Vespasian healed one which was lame and impotent in his thigh; Sueton. in Vesp. cap, 7. and a blind man also who had a revelation of Serapis, to go for his helpe to Vespasian. That also which Spartianus writeth in the life of the emperour Adrian, That a blind [Page 105] woman recovered her sight in kissing his knees; and one blind-borne, recovered his A sight in onely touching him; and by that meanes Adrian lost a feaver, which he then had. For we may easily see, that these were Christs miracles, or his Apostles, which the Paynims would faine steale from them, to and for their princes, as also to per­suade the world, that there was no divinitie in them. For a resolution then of this point, the promises of Messias have beene knowne through the world, as also his comming, even to the Paynims. For prophane authors do often make mention of Christ, even Tacitus, who sayth, That Christ was put to death in the time of the em­perour Tacit. An­nal. lib. 15. Tiberius, by Pontius Pilate, his lieutenant in Iudaea. Behold then how the principall points of our Christian Religion may be proved by humane reason and prophane authors, so great and resplendent was, and is that light. For our religi­on B herein may summarily be comprehended, To beleeve in God, and in him which he hath sent, Iesus Christ our Saviour. If these Atheists then, will put out their owne eies, to the end they may not know God and the Christian Religion, neither by holy Scriptures nor by humane reason, nor by the witnesse of prophane authors, which speake thereof, as of a thing divulged and notorious through all the world; we know not how to doe any other thing, but to leave them as desperate persons to welter in their ignorance, brutalitie and darkenesse, till God by his just judgement have sunke them into the bottomelesse pit.

Now to come to our Maxime: We say, That to maintaine falsenesse in Religion, is to tread God and his Religion under their feet. Yet true it is, that the auncient Ro­manes C have approved and maintained the falsenesse of Oracles, although it were not falsenesse invented by men, but very diabolicall illusions, as shall be said in ano­ther place. True it is also, that they sustained and allowed the bookes of the Sybils, and the augures, taken by the flight of birds, and such other follies. But these pro­ceeded from the want of knowledge of the true Religion, and for that they suffered themselves to be guided by the Paynim Religion; which consisted in vaine ceremo­nies and foolish lies. Yet notwithstanding, whensoever by good reason they could know, that any falsenesse had slided into their religion, they maintained it not, but tooke it away. An example hereof is this. The religion of Bacchus was first brought into Rome by a Grecian priest, who made sacrifices and ceremonies in the night time, and at the beginning, women onely assisted, and were present there, who after D their sacrifices banqueted together. The Romanes thinking no harme, suffered it for a time: but in succession of time men also resorted thither with women, pell mell, (as they say) and brought thither a new ceremonie; namely, to put out candles, and ring bels, to the end, none might heare such as cried, when they were forced and ra­vished. There was all villanie committed, not onely towards all sort of women, but also towards young boyes. The Consuls and Senat having discovered this, procee­ded criminally against them which were found in such assemblies, as guiltie of the ravishments of women and of Sodometrie: and there were found culpable hereof more than seven thousand, whereof the most part fled, and some slew themselves, o­thers E were executed by justice; and an edict was made; Forbidding all sacrifices from thenceforth to be made unto Bacchus. Even naturall reason, made those poor Paynims, which were ignorant of Religion, to understand, that, that Religion could not be true, but is false and rejectable, which containeth in it any punishable crime. And if they could also have knowne the other falsities of their Religion, as well as this, I beleeve they would have cut them of, whatsoever Machiavell sayth. But in [Page 106] points of Religion, we may not any thing stay our selves upon that which the anci­ent Romans have done, or said, unlesse we will seeke light in the darkenesse. F

In the yeare 1509 (about twentie yeares before the Canton of Berne had forsa­ken Munst. lib. 3. d [...] Geograpsis the Papall Religion) the Iacobins of Berne would have introducted certaine new miracles, devised by Apostata persons, to draw unto them the devotion and of­ferings of people. But that seignorie would not follow the doctrine of Machiavell, to approve such false miracles, but by burning, executed good justice upon the au­thors thereof.

In the yeare 1534, the parliament of Paris condemned certain Friers of Orleans, Sledan, lib. 9. which would falsely have made men beleeve the app [...]rition of a spirit, who desired (as they said) that there might be good store of Masses said, to deliver him from Purgatorie: for it was found out to be but an imposture, deceit, and invention, which G the Friers had made to abuse the world, and to draw water to their mills.

There were many judgements of the said court of parliament, wherby the false­nesse Papon in his collections. lib. 1. of reliques was condemned and prohibited. As of the image of our Ladie, which was painted in an old Table, that had many yeares remained in a painters shop for a shew: which Table, a Curate nigh unto Paris, bought good cheape, and boring two holes, where the two eyes were of that noble Ladie, and at the time when vines weepe, placed behind in them two sprigs of the vine tree, so that pitifull La­die wept in the church where she stood, which drew great numbers of pilgrimes to that parish: insomuch, that the painter himselfe and his wife came thither also in great devotion, who had sold it. But this marred all, that they at last knew it to bee H the old Table, which had so long kept their shop: by whome the fame of this abuse came to the knowledge of justice, whereby, by the said parliament the Curate was condemned, and the Table burnt.

But another time the said Court of parliament of Paris did another thing that seemed something to hold of Machiavels opinion. For upon a controversie of law which happened betwixt the Cleargie men of our Lady in Paris, which said, That they had S. Denis his head, and the Abbots and religious men of S. Denis, which said, That they had the whole body of S. Denis. The Court there gave judgement, That they of S. Denis had the whole body of S. Denis the Athenian, and they of our Lady, the head of S. Denis the Corinthian. So that they both were content, although I before, there was never heard of any S. Denis the Corinthian. But that was all one, they provided, that their practise diminished not. If they of Ratisbone in Almaigne had intermedled with this strife, it would have been hard to have agreed them, or els there must have been supposed a third S. Denis: for they say also, that they have the whole body of S. Denis, and have a declarative sentence of a Pope and his Cardi­nals, to confirme it (as they say.) But my purpose here, is not to agree them, I only conclude, That it is a damnable and detestable thing to sustaine lies and falsenesse, in whatsoever things, but especially in Reli­gion: for that is to follow the religion of the de­vill, K who is the father of lies.

3. Maxime. A

‘The Painim Religion holds and lifts up their hearts, and so makes them hardie to enterprise great things; but the Christian Religion, persuading B to humilitie, humbleth and too much weakeneth their minds, and so makes them more readie to be iniured and preyed upon.’

ENtring into consideration, what should bee the cause, that Discourse, lib. 2. cap. 5. the force and power of Christians is lesse than that of the Gentiles, such as vvere the auncient Grecians and Romans: It seemeth (saith this Atheist Machiavell) that it vvas the difference of Religion. For that the Christian Religion makes the C honour of the vvorld contemptible and of little estimation, whereas the Gentiles esteemed honour to be the soveraigne good, for vvhich to obtaine, they had an exceeding great fiercenesse and hardinesse in all their deeds and enterprises. Moreover, the Painim Religion pro­miseth no happinesse; but to such as having fought for their prince, countrey, and common-vveale, vvere replenished vvith glorie and vvordly honours: vvhereas the Christian Religion promiseth bles­sednesse to such as are humble and contemplative, and to them vvhich despise most, the goods and honours of this vvorld. So (saith he) is it plainely seene, That the Christian Religion hath conducted and brought the vvorld unto that vveakenesse and feeblenesse that vvee see it in, delivering it as a prey to the vvicked and barbarous people, vvhich as they list, can deale vvith Christians, and vanquish and bring them under the yoke. Because all Christians, to take the vvay of Pa­radice, dispose and arme themselves, rather to receive blowes, than to give or take vengeaunce. And it seemeth, that that vvhich makes Christians so effeminate and cowardly, proceeds onely from this, that they esteeme more of an idle repose and contemplative life, than the active life.

[Page 108] BEhold the Maxime and the reasons, which this most unhappie A­theist F hath disgorged in his goodly discourses to blame and alto­gether to despite the Christian Religion, and to bring us unto A­theisme, and to despoile us of all Religion, feare of God, and of all conscience, feare and loyaltie, which are taught us by our Chri­stian Religion. But God by his grace preserve us from such a pesti­lence and contagion, and make us know and shun that execrable poyson, wherewith that unhappie man hath infected the heart and spirits of infinite, from whence doe pullulate and spring at this day, the evils and calamities which wee see in Christen­dome, and especially in Fraunce. For out of doubt, so many evils and mischeefes as we see and feele at this day, and long before, proceed not, but from a just judgement G of God, provoked unto wrath against the world, for the contempt of his most holy commandements, and of our most holy Christian Religion.

True it is, that our Christian Religion teacheth us, humilitie towards God. For we ought to acknowledge before his face, that we are poore sinners, and to demand pardon of him, as criminall persons doe, which fall on their knees before a prince, begging grace and pardon. Wee ought also to acknowledge, that the graces wee have, proceed from God, and that we ought not to bee proud of any good thing in us. Moreover, we ought to be modest and gentle towards our neighbour, and to de­test all fiercenesse and crueltie. But doe those things debase and unable the hearts H of good men to performe and execute their duties of fortitude and valiantnesse in warre? Doth this Christian humilitie diminish their generositie? I will aske the re­solution of this point of none other, but even of Machiavell his own nation, which heretofore have come into Fraunce, to make warre against the Evangelickes. For they have well felt, if the humilitie of Christians have so much abated the French­mens hearts, that they durst not well handle them (as they say) both backes & bel­lies: yet if they will not confesse it; the fields, which are white with their bones, will alwayes give good witnesse thereof. It is strange, that this villainous Atheist durst utter and send abroad so absurd things, which are so farre from all experience and truth. If that which he saith were truth, it should follow, That no Christian prince I could stand against Paynim and Infidell princes: but all auncient and moderne hi­stories, doe they not shew us the contrarie? The emperour Constantine the great was a verie humble Christian prince, yea of that humilitie (as some write) as he held the stirrop of the Pope of Rome, till he got on horseback; yet he vanquished Lici­nius, Emperours and kings Christians victorious of Painims. who was a Paynim emperour with him, and made him forsake the empire, and besides overcame many Paynim nations, as we have said in an other place. The em­peror Theodosius was so humble, that being reprehended for a certaine fault he had committed, by S. Ambrose bishop of Milan, hee debased himselfe so much to ac­knowledge his sinne, as he went trailing himselfe upon the ground upon his foure feete, from the Church doore, unto the place where S. Ambrose administred the Sa­crament, K and by that meanes was received to the Communion: yet although hee was so humble, he had verie great and goodlie victories against the Barbarians and Infidels, and against other enemies of the Romane empire. The emperour Valenti­nian, who was a Christian, vanquished the Gothes in Gall: and the emperour Iu­stinian, overcame them in Italie, and in Affrica. Charlamaine, and many other kings of France, which were both Christians, & very humble, have notwithstanding gained [Page 109] and obtained goodly victories against the Paynims, as wee have otherwhere said. A The emperour Charles the fift of late memorie, obtained also in his time goodly vi­ctories in Africa against the Turke. Breefely, this point needs no further to be deba­ted upon. For it is clearely seene, That Machiavell is a filthie lier to say: That the Christian Religion is the cause, that Christians fall to be a prey unto the Paynims. For contrarie, a small number of Christians have often beaten a great number of Gothes, Turkes, and other Infidels. And it is no more true that which the Machi­avelists say: That such as doe horribly sweare and blaspheme, with Mortdieu, Sang­dieu, and such like, do fight better, than they that say Surely and Truly: because (say they) Surely and Truly do effeeblish and weaken mens hearts, for experience shew­eth in many places, that this is false. B

When I thinke upon and consider where Machiavell hath fished this goodlie Maxime, I can hardlie be persuaded but he learned it out of the historie of Aygolant Annales of the life of Charlemaine. a Paynim king of Affrica, of Mahumets religion: this king was a great and puissant ruler, who demeaned and maintained great warres with Charlemaine king of France, but he was alwaies vanquished, and Charlemaine victorious; so that to escape from the hands of Charlemaine by the cheapest and best means, he could devise none bet­ter, than one day to make Charlemaine understand, that he the said Aygolant, would become a Christian, and be baptized: Charlemaine rejoyced therat, and caused him to come into his lodging, with intent to feast him, & give him good enterteinment. When he came in to Charlemaine his lodging, he did see thirteen poore men, beg­gerlie C apparrelled, eating on the ground without cloath, as beggars vse to do; which Charlemaine did, to have alwaies before his eyes an image of povertie, to remember Christ and his Apostles, and their humilitie: Aygolant at the sight of these poore men, desired to know what they were; Charlemaine aunswered him; These be the ser­vants of God: yea said Aygolant, hath thy God his servants in so evill order, and are thy servants so brave; trulie I will never bee baptised, to become the servant of thy God, for I will never yeeld to so base an estate, as I see thy Gods servants hold: so Aygolant would not bee christened, for the humilitie he saw in the estate of God his servants. So Machiavell rejecteth the Christian Religion, because that thereby hu­militie is recommended unto us: but loveth much better the Paynim Religion of D Aygolant, because (saith he) it maintaineth the heart, haughtie and fierce.

And as for that that he saith, That the Christian Religion promiseth not Paradice Christian Religion alloweth not an idle and con­templative life. but to idle & contemplative people, he sheweth well that he never knew what Chri­stian Religion meant; for it commandeth us to travaile, & not to be idle, and everie man loyallie to exercise his vocation. Verie true it is, that amongst Christians there must be some contemplatives, that is to say, studious people, which give themselves to holie letters, for to teach others: but we finde not by the documents of that Re­ligion, That there is allowed any idle contemplation of dreamers, which doe no other thing but imagine dreames, and toyes, in their braines: but a contemplative life of labouring studious people, is only approoved, which give themselves to let­ters, F to teach others: for after they have accomplished their studies, they ought to put in use and action, that which they know; bringing into an active life, that which they have learned by their studie in their contemplative life; and they which use this otherwise, follow not the precepts of the true Christian Religion.

Touching that which he saith; That the Christian Religion disposeth rather men to receive blowes, than to vengeance. I confesse that it is true, that our Religion for­biddeth [Page 110] us to take vengeance of our owne enmities and particular quarrels, by our F owne authoritie; but the way and course of justice is not denied us. And if it were lawfull for everie one to vse vengeance; that should be to introduce a confusion and disorder into the commonwealth, & to enterprice upon the right which belongeth to the magistrate, unto whom God hath given the sword, to doe right to everie one, and to punish such as are faultie, according to their merites: but what is all this to purpose, touching the generositie of hart that men should have in war? for although a man should not be quarrelous nor vindictative, to find quarrels for needles points, yet will he not cease to performe his dutie in warfare, for the service of his prince; yet Men that are not qua­rellous, are not the lesse generous. is there one point in Christians, more then in Paynims, that is; That a Christian be­ing well resolved in his conscience, that he beareth armes for a good and just cause, as for the good of his prince, or of his countrey, or some such like good cause, hee G will lesse esteeme of his life, and will more willingly hazard it, than a Paynim or an Infidell will doe: because hee hath a firme trust and beleefe, that hee shall enjoy the eternall life after this fraile life. Caesar writeth, That our auncient Gaules were very generous and warlike, because they held as resolute the immortalitie of soules, and that they that die, die not at all. How much more then ought Christians to bee ge­nerous, which not onely are resolved of the immortalitie of soules, but do also know, that God hath prepared for them an eternall rest, an immortall glorie, and a perdu­rable beatitude, with him and his angels? Surely, as the life and eternall felicitie are more excellent, than this fraile life full of miseries and calamities: so the Christian H will never doubt nor feare, to change the one for the other, but with a magnani­mous and generous heart, will willingly alwaies bestow his life in a just quarrell. Ma­chiavell and all his schoole of Atheists, which have nothing, that so much fears their conscience, as to thinke of God, have no such mind. They shew themselves generous and valiant to execute some massacre, to sley men unarmed, which have no meanes to defend themselves: but otherwise they are resolute people to hold themselves far from blowes.

Finally, when Machiavell saith, That the Christian Religion teacheth us to despise A Christian may desire honour by lawfull meanes. honor, he shewes himselfe a stinking lier. True it is, that a man must distinguish the vertue, and that which is good, from that which is the vice, and the evill which re­sembleth I it. For ambition is a vice which commeth very nigh the desire of good re­putation, which good men ought to have. If then a man travaile and take paines to come to some estate and greatnesse by all lawfull and unlawfull meanes, and beeing come thereunto, useth it fiercely and to his own commoditie, rather than to the pro­fit of the Commonwealth: we confesse, that our Religion teacheth us to flie and de­spise such honours. But when a man will maintaine himselfe by all honest and law­full meanes in a good and entire reputation, although by such meanes he aspire to some estate and dignitie, whereof he feeles himselfe capable, well to use it, and to serve God and the Commonweale therein; we say, That by our Christian Religion there is not forbidden us such an aeffectation of honor, and, that lawfully wee may, K yea, we ought to seeke and pursue to have such an honor. Breefely, the thing which Christians hold most precious and deare, is their conscience towards God, and their honour amongst men.

M. Philip de Comines, king Lewis the eleventh his chamberlaine, writeth, That this king was very humble in habits, in words, and in all other things, and that hee could well acknowledge his faults, and amend them, and that these vertues were the [Page 111] meanes whereby he dispatched great affaires, which he had on his armes at his first A comming to the crowne: so had hee ordinarily this notable sentence in his mouth, cleane contrarie from Machiavell his Maxime. ‘When Pride marcheth before, Shame with domage followeth.’

So must we say, That humilitie, kindnesse, gentlenesse, patience, easinesse to par­don, clemencie, and all other vertues, which accord and agree with an humane and benigne nature, are not contrarie to the true magnanimitie, but very covenable and agreeing thereunto. For magnanimitie is no other thing but a constant and perpe­tuall will, to employ himselfe couragiously in all good and vertuous things, and to flie, abate, and chase away all vices and vicious things. It is then magnamitie, to be humble, soft, gentle, patient, enclined to pardon, to be farre from vengeance, B since all those things are vertues, and not vices. And by the contrarie, it is pusilla­nimitie, to bee proud, rigorous, sharpe, impatient, vindicate and cruell: because all those things are vices, and not vertues. For that vertue of Magnanimitie is ne­ver accompanied with the said vices, neither receives them to wait upon her, onely she is waited upon with all other vertues. And for example hereof, there were ne­ver men more moderate, more humble, and gentle, nor more enclined to pardon, than were, Scipio the African, than Iulius Caesar, than Alexander the great, than great Pompeius? Yet were there never in the world, men, which were more magna­nimous than they.

As much may wee say of Charlemaine, Philip, Augustus the Conqueror, saint C Lewis, Charles le Sage, Charles the seventh, Lewis the twelfth, and many other kings of Fraunce, which were very magnanimous, yet very soft and gentle. But I shall in another place handle this point more at large, and shew, That magnanimi­tie hath alwayes been joyned with humanitie, gentlenesse, and clemencie: and contrarie, pusillanimitie hath alwaies beene accompanied with crueltie, pride, and vengeance.

4. Maxime. D

‘The great Doctors of the Christian Religion, by a great ostentation and stiffenesse, have sought to abolish the remembrance of all good letters and antiquitie.’

THe Christian Religion (saith this Atheist) hath held this pra­ctise, E Discourse, lib. 2. to abolish the Paynim Religion, first to deface the me­morie of all order, and the ceremonies thereof, and of all old Theo­logie. After that, it sought to abolish also the Poets and Historiogra­phers, and to extinguish the totall knowledge of the deeds and ieasts [Page 112] of excellent persons, and of all antiquitie, destroying all old images, F and all that might represent any signe or trace of the vvorld passed, yet it could not altogether abolish good letters, because it vvas con­strained to use the Latine language, therevvith to vvrite her new law; by the meanes of vvhich language, some part of the ancient vvorkes yet remaineth. But if the Christian Religion could have formed a new language in a small time, you should have seene all antiquitie quite banished and gone. But S. Gregorie and other Doctors of that Religion, vvhich so obstinately persecuted the letters and writings of the Gentiles, were constrained themselves to write them in the Latin G tongue. The Paynim Religion at his beginning did the same, to the Religion vvhich vvas before it: for (saith hee) Sects and Religions change and varie two or three times in five or six thousand yeares, and the last makes alwayes perish the remembrance of all that had beene before it; and if any kept any reliques of the memorie thereof, men held them for fables, and gave no credit unto them, more than unto the hystorie of Diodorus the Sicilian, who begins a narration of things done fortie or fiftie thousand yeares before. H

MAchiavell, (desirous to shew himselfe a very Atheist, without religion, and a man full of ignorance and beastlinesse) advan­ceth now this Maxime, the very contrarie, whereof is plainely seene in the writings of them of our Religion, which this im­postor and deceiver blameth, as altogether false, and against truth. For so much doth there want, that the writers of the bookes of our Religion, would abolish good letters, as the libe­rall arts, the knowledge of tongues, hystories, poesies, & other of the Elders sciences, that cleane contrarie they have with them aided and helped I themselves to confute the errors of the Painim Religion. For they were forced to The Chri­stiā doctors have confu­ted the Pai­nims by their owne bookes. use them against the Painims, to vanquish them, either with naturall reason, or with allegations and authorities out of their owne books; because they received not the authoritie of the Bible. And whosoever reads the ancient Doctors, will witnesse that it is true, That they have filled their bookes with allegations of prophane and Pai­nim authors: and he that will see this more at large, let him reade S. Augustine of the citie of God, and the Christian institutions of Lactantius Firmian. For he shal see, that the purpose of those two authors in the said bookes, is no other, but to con­fute and overthrow the Painims Religion, with the falsenesse thereof, by their owne bookes, and to approove and set out ours. True it is, that often they marke the faults K A Christian ought not to be too much givē to profane authors. and ignorances of Painim authors, and admonish Christians to reade them with a spirit of sobrietie, and not to give themselves so much unto them, as to leave the ho­ly Scriptures. Which admonitions are good and holy, and also are necessary even in our time. For there are at this day infinit persons, which so much please themselves in prophane authors, some in Poets, some in Hystoriographers, some in Philoso­phie, some in Physick, or in Law; that they care nothing to reade or els to know any [Page 113] thing for the salvation & comfort of their soules. Some care not at all for it, others A reserve that studie, till they have ended the studies of other sciences, & in the meanwhile the time runneth away, and oftentimes it commeth to passe, that when they must needs dislodge out of this world, their prophane studies are not ended, nor the studie of holy letters commenced, and so die they like beasts. Therefore are not the old doctors any thing to be reprehended, because they admonish men to reade in great sobrietie the writings of Paynims, and that men give not themselves so much thereunto, as for to know humane sciences, they abandon and let goe the divine knowledge, which is as much more excellent than they, as God is more excellent than man. Yet is there some Paynim authors, which ought never to be read of Chri­stians, or at the least ought not to come in the hands of youths, which of themselves B are but too much enclined to vices and lubricities. For a young scholler can hee better learne in a stewes amongst whores and ruffians, the tearmes of all villanie and lubricitie, than in that filthie Martiall, or in Catullus or Tibullus, or in certain books of Ovid? And therefore, although wee never read any of these poets, and so our youth gave themselves only to Virgil to learne all Latine poësie, it were ynough: and that alone author (out of whom all others are but small rivers) might learne them all the poësie that need be knowne. Yet I will not say, but there are many other good poets very worthy to be read, as Horace, Lucane, Claudian, and others; but hee that well understands Virgil, he needs not have to doe with others, for the understanding of poësie. And in every science it seemeth to be the best (that men may well employ C their time, which is deare and short) to reade few bookes, to make good choise of them, and well to understand them. But for proofe of this which I come to say, and to shew, that Machiavell is a shamelesse lier, in that he dare affirm, That the doctors of the Christian Religion would or sought to abolish good letters, I will here set downe the advice and counsell that they have given touching the studie of humane letters of the Gentiles. Doctor Beda (as Gratian reciteth in his decree) sayth; That they which will forbid the reading of the Gentiles bookes, do hinder men from ha­ving [...]7 Dist. Tur­bat. apt spirits to comprehend and understand the holy writings: because humane sciences doe fashion our minds and understandings to the better abilitie, to under­stand holy letters: and that Moses and Daniel, which were learned in the letters of D the Aegyptians and Chaldeans, doe serve us for an example, not utterly to reject the humane letters of the Paynims. But here I will translate the very words of Doctor Beda. ‘He troubleth (sayth hee) and causeth to faile the vivacitie of readers spirits, who esteemeth, that men ought altogether to forbid the reading of secular bookes, wherein we ought to take that which is good, as our own. Otherwise, Moses and Da­niel would not have learned the wisedome and letters of the Aegyptians and Chal­deans, the superstition of which people they abhorred. S. Paule also doctor of the Gentiles, would not have alledged certaine verses out of the Gentiles bookes in his writings. Why then should we forbid men to read that which by good reason ought to be read? But some reade secular letters for their pleasure only, beeing tickled and E delighted with poëticall figments and fictions, or els for the ornament of their lan­guage: others read them for their erudition, and to detest and confute the errors of the Gentiles, and to applie and make serve the good things that they find there, to the use of the erudition of sacred letters; and these verily doe merit only praise, by studying of secular letters. And for this cause S. Gregorie reprehended a certaine bi­shop, not because he had learned humane letters, but because he expounded them [Page 114] unto the people against the dutie of a Bishop, whereas hee should have expounded F the Gospell.’ Behold what was the opinion of this Theologian doctor, touching the studie and reading of the writings and sciences of the Paynims. S. Ambrose upon S. Luke, speaking of the same matter, saith, That we reade the bookes of the Pay­nims to divers ends; namely, for not to be ignorant of that they handle, and to fol­low the good things in them, and to reject the evill. S. Ierome upon the Epistle to Titus, sayth, That Grammar and Logicke are profitable sciences to know to speake well, and to distinguish the true from the false, and that sciences humane may serve Christians, to apply them to good uses: and therefore (saith he) it is necessarie of necessitie to know them, to the end, that we might shew, That the things which have been said by the Prophets many hundreth of years before, are since come to passe, G and described by the bookes both of the Greekes and Latines. S. Augustine also against the Manicheans, saith, That if the Sibils, or Orpheus, or that other poets of the Gentiles, or the philosophers have written any true thing of God, men must and may serve themselves therewith, to vanquish the vanitie of the Paynims, but yet ought we not therefore to give authoritie to such authors. By which words he well shewes, that he approoveth the reading and studie of the Gentiles bookes, as well poets, philosophers, as others. S. Basile also in his treatise he writ of the manner of reading the Gentiles bookes, not onely reprehendeth not the reading thereof, but contrarie exhorteth Christians to reade them, and to applie the reading of those bookes to his true end and purpose, which is the pietie and edification in the faith H and Christian Religion. And to conclude, we read, that by a Counsell it was ordai­ned, That every where schooles should be established to teach youth humane letters and liberall arts. ‘The article of the said Counsell, recited by Gratian in his Decretall, De quibus­dam, 37 Dist. is this: Report is made unto us of certaine places, where they have no care to have schoolemasters for the studie of letters: therefore let all bishops, subjects, and peo­ple, in place where need shall be, performe their duties in placing masters and do­ctors, which may daily teach letters and liberall arts, for by their meanes the wri­tings and commandements of God are declared and manifested.’ What now then will this slanderer Machiavell say? Can hee yet say, that the doctors of the Chri­stian Religion have or would have abolished good letters, and the writings of the I Paynims? Will he not hold himselfe vanquished of a lie by so many authorities, as we have alledged of S. Ierome, S. Ambrose, S. Augustine, S. Gregorie, Baeda, and S. Basile, which are the principall doctors of the Christian Church, and the au­thoritie of the Counsell (which is as an approbation of the universall Church?) shall not all this be sufficient to shew the impudencie of this Florentine?

But now am I desirous to know of this Atheist Machiavell, what was the cause that so manie good bookes of the Paynim authors were lost, since the time of the auncient doctors of our Christian Religion? was it not by the Gothes which were Paynims? For at their so manie irruptions and breaking out of their countries, upon Gaule, Italie, Spaine, they wasted and burned so many bookes as they could finde, K being enemies of all learning and letters: and who within this hundreth yeares hath restored good letters, conteined in the bookes of the auncient Paynims, Grecians, and Latins? hath it beene the Turke, who is a Paynim? It is well enough knowne, that he is an enemie of letters, and desireth none. Nay contrarie, it hath beene the Christians which have restored them, and established them in the brightnesse and light wherein we see them at this day. The knowledge of the Greeke, Latin, and He­brew [Page 115] tongues in other countries, have beene brought in by others; but into our A countries of France, that they have come and doe so flourish, wee may thanke king Francis the first of happie memorie: and since the restauration of tongues and hu­mane sciences, men have well experimented, that they are verie requisite and profitable, well to understand the Scriptures of our Christian Religion, so farre are wee off from rejecting them.

And as for that which Machiavell saith; That our Christian Religion hath sought to abolish the memorie of all antiquitie; how dare he openlie oppugne the mani­fest truth? for none is ignorant, that the true and primative antiquitie is of the He­brews, whose bookes have been conserved, translated, & expounded by the Christi­ans. And as for the antiquitie of the Paynims, doth any man finde that the Christi­ans B have caused to perish Homer, Hesiodus, Berosus, or any other authors of antiqui­tie? nay they they are which have conserved them, which have aided themselves with them, and which have interpreted them: Eustachius the great commentor of Homer, was not he a Christian, yea a bishop? But I shame to stay in the confutation of the impudent lies of this Atheist; for young and meane schollers may easilie im­pugne his impudent lies.

Machiavell saith; That it succeeded not so well with our Christian Religion, as it would, when it went about to abolish good letters, because it was constreined to use the Latin tongue, wherein all humane sciences were written. Herein doth he mani­festlie shew his beastlinesse and ignorance; for who constreined our Christian doc­tors C to write in Latin? the olde and new Testament were first written in Hebrew and Greeke: therefore the Latin doctors if they had list, might have written in these languages, as did S. Chrisostome, S. Athanasius, S. Basile, S. Cirill, Eusebius, and manie others: yet if writers had used these languages, men would nor have ceased to preach in Latin to the Latins; in the French to the French; in the Allemaigne to the Alle­maignes, and to other nations, to everie one in his language: for it hath been seene not past threescore yeares agoe, that in Italie, France, Alemaigne, Spaine, and other where, the Christian Religion was not written in the mothers tongue; yet men left not to hold the said Religion in the said countries: but since it hath beene brought into everie of those languages, for the commoditie of the people; as it was brought D into the Latin tongue by S. Augustine, S. Ambrose, S. Ierome, S. Gregorie, and other Latin doctors of the primitive Church of their time: yet if they had written in He­brew, or Greeke, the Christian Religion had not left and ceased to subsist and stand for that. And although the Latin prophane books had perished, the Latin language which then was vulgar, had not therefore perished: therefore doth Machiavell well shew his beastlinesse, to say, that the Christian Religion hath beene constrained to use the Latin language, and that by that meanes, the prophane Latin authors have beene conserved. But what means he when he saith; That if the Christian Religion could have formed a new tongue, it had abolished the memorie of all antiquitie? hath there been at any time, in any countrie, any Religion, which hath formed a new E language? and how comes it, that a Religion can bee received by the meanes of a new unknowne tongue? If the Christian Religion had invented a new tongue, it could never have been understood, nor received, and by consequent could not have abolished the bookes written in the Latin tongue: likewise using the Latin tongue that was in common use, it could no more abolish the books written in that tongue, according to the saying of the said Machiavell: and therefore take it which way you [Page 116] will; if the Christian Religion had invented a new tongue, or that it had used the F Latin tongue (as it did and doth) it could not extinguish & abolish the bookes writ­ten in the Latin tongue; therefore Machiavell knows not what he saith.

As little knoweth he what he saith, when he holds, That sects and Religions have varied twise or thrice, in five or sixe thousand yeares, and that the last causeth alwaies the remembrance of the first to perish; for who hath revealed unto him this secret? who hath told him newes of things done before Moses time, if it were not Moses himselfe? Brieflie, there is neither reason, nor historie, whereupon he may found that impudent lie. But hereby he would shew, that if any doubt whether he be not a very Atheist, that he hath no more cause to doubt: for, for a proofe hereof, he makes a de­claration, that he beleeves nothing of that which is written in the holy Scripture, of G the creation of the world, nor of the Religion of God, which wee hold since Moses. For by the holy Scripture it is seene, that there are not yet six thousand yeares since the creation of the world. It is also seene, that the Christian Religion of Messias and Christ, changed not since the said creation, but hath alwaies endured, and shall en­dure till the consumation of the world. And as for Painim Religions, they have chan­ged from one into an other, in a little time, and in one same countrie, as histories do shew. At Rome, in the time of Romulus, there was a Religion such as it was, which Numa changed, and devised an other more cerimonious. After, the religion of Nu­ma changed, & strange Religions of the Grecians & others were received at Rome: insomuch that about five hundreth yeares after Numa, when his bookes were found H in his sepulcher, and men read them, they found no part of their Religion in them, as shall be more fully said in his place. Brieflie, these Painim Religions, still and often changed in regarde of their forme and ceremonies, but in substance they changed nothing, since the children of Caine, who began to follow the false Religion: for whatsoever outward change there was, within it was alwaies divelish Religion, ha­ving for his author, the father of lies & of falsenesse: and therfore Machiavell knows not what he saith, but that he is an Atheist, and so would manifest himselfe to be one, by discovering that he beleeved not the holy Scriptures. He thought to have im­mortalized his name, by making himselfe knowne to posteritie, that he was a perfect Atheist, replenished with all impietie, like as Nero did, who soughr meanes to make I Suet. in Ne­ron, cap. 55. in Calig. cap. 31. men speake of him after his death, in sleying his mother, his brother, master, and many good men of his time, and in burning Rome, and such other wicked and de­testable cases. As also Caligula wished (to the end there might be a memorie of his kingdome in time to come) that in his time there might happen some great pesti­lence and notable mortalitie, or some exceeding great famine, ruines, earthquakes, and burnings of townes: Because, saith he, if my raigne do passe in peace and tran­quillitie without some great and notable evill luck, none will speake of me in time to come. There be men of such wicked and divelish natures, which are of this humor, which desire to make their renowne immortall, by vices and wickednesses; as Ma­chiavell hath done, who hath so well plaied his part, that he hath obteined the K chiefe ranke of all Atheists, and impious persons neere Aretine his companion, who lives in his time, and hath written the praise of Sodomie, to immortalize his name.

5. Maxime. A

‘When men left the Paynim Religion, they became altogether corrupted, so that they neither beleeved in God nor the Divell. B’

THe Paynim Religion (sayth Machiavell) consisteth prin­cipally in the answeres of Oracles and of Augures. And to Discourse, lib. 1. cap. 12. have good answeres of those Oracles and Augures, they builded to the gods goodly temples, and vvith great cere­monies offered sacrifices unto them. And the vvorld vvas kept in a marvellous devotion by the Oracle of Jupiter Ammon, of Apollo in Delos, and in Delphos, and other like. But incontinent as their trum­perie C and deceit vvas discovered, and that men knew, that the priests of those gods made them there make answers after the fancies of such as gave most liberally, then begun men to despise and contemne those Oracles, and no more to beleeve either God or the divell. Then begun men to become altogether vvicked, prest and vvilling to break, burst and destroy all, like unchained slaves, vvithout any more making conscience of any thing. Therefore ought princes (if they will be obeyed) to hold their subiects alwaies enclined and devoted D to Religion.

MAchiavell still continuing to teach his doctrine of Atheisme, and the despight of our Christian Religion, goes about to persuade by this Maxime, That there was a great losse to men, when they lost the Painim Religion. But certainly, it was the light of the Christian Religion, which caused the darkenesse of the Paynim Religion to vanish away, because that Religion only depended upon Oracles, Augures, & other divellish illusions. So that in breefe, Machiavell his mind is, That a man should do well to set a packing the Christian Religion, & that it were a goodly E thing alwayes to live in the Paynim Religion. What an impietie is this, I pray you? Can any sentence come from the divell of hell more detestable than this. Assuredly it much greeveth mee to blot paper to write such things, and to expose and lay a­broad before the eyes and eares of good men so hard words, which cannot but sound evill in their eares, that feare God. But the Wise man exhorteth us to speake to the foole after his folly, that he may not waxe proud. Should wee suffer such an [Page 118] Atheist, that teacheth all impietie, to take his course, and sow his venom amongst F us, and yet we should not dare to open our mouthes to discover him as he is? shall we hold our peace in such a time as is most necessarie to speake, to make manifest such wickednesses as commonly runne abroad, that they may be shunned and taken heed of? should this be well done, to meet with common poisoners, and fire-brands of hell, which run all about the countrie, to empoison, & to set on fire all places; and not to stay them, but to let them do what mischiefe they will? I beseech therefore all them which feare God, to accept those reasons, as lawfull excuses, that I am so often forced to speake and write so impious and abhominable speeches: for although it displeaseth me much to do so, yet I dare not but lay abroad the impietie of this poi­soner. He then saith, That it was a goodly thing in the time of the Paynims, to see the G world abused with that false opinion (for such he accounteth it) of oracles and au­guries; but that it was a great mischiefe, and evill luck, when the world began, to dis­cover, that such things were false, faigned, and devised of men; because then the world began to become exceeding wicked, prompt, and willing to all euill, as an vn­chained slave.

Machiavell then must note by his owne confession, That men then became most Atheisme brings men to perfecti­on of all wickednes. wicked in all wickednesse, as soone as they began to bee of the Heathen Religion, that is, without all Religion. What meanes Machiavell then openly to teach A­theisme, and the despight of the Christian Religion? yet this he speaks not, to bring us unto Paganisme, which hee confesseth to bee false: but to make men, especially H princes and great lords (for whose instruction he writ his bookes) utterly to forsake all pietie, and to bring them to the highest degree of wickednesse, whereunto hee saith they come, which are of no Religion. But when princes or others have taken that goodly instruction, and offered that mockerie unto God and Religion, they but advance their owne infallible confusion, and ruine of their estates, as we have in an other place demonstrated by examples.

But to come to the truth of that which Machiavell sayth, certaine it is, That as soone as Christian Religion came into light and knowledge, the Paynim Religion vanished away by little and little, as the light also by little and little spread it selfe. True it is also, that as soone as the falsenesse of the Paynim Religion was discovered, I there were some, which notwithstanding, would not be brought to the Christian Re­ligion. And as for such, I doubt not but they became alwayes worse, forsaking the Paynim Religion, as false, to follow Atheisme. No lesse may we well say of our time, wherein we may see many, which contemne all Religion, because they will not en­quire and seeke after the true Religion, whereof they delight to be ignorant, to the end, it may not torment their wicked consciences, nor controule their disordinate covetousnesse. But as wee see many which are not satisfied nor contented to know the errors wherein they were wrapped, but also they have well desired to know the truth, which they ought to hold. So when the Paynim Religion ended, they which forsooke it, contented not themselves in knowing it was false, but they also thought K good to know the true, which is the Christian, the light whereof, made the other va­nish away. And indeed, by little and little every one embraced the Christian Reli­gion there remaining, but certaine Porphyries and Lucians, which would bee with­out Religion. And would to God that our world were as pure from Atheisme, as that world was; then should wee not see so many miseries and calamities which are in the world.

[Page 119] And as for that that Machiavell presupposeth, That Oracles were certaine an­sweres, A devised at the pleasure of priests, to deceive men in the Temples of Apollo, of Iupiter Ammon, or of any other of the Paynim gods, he sheweth himselfe to be very ignorant, and to have read little: yet I will not deny, but sometimes the priests entermedled somewhat of their owne many times: but it is certaine, that the said Oracles, were diabolicall answeres, which the devill made himselfe, or caused to bee made by some hee or shee priest, which he brought into extasies, and out of their sences, and so caused them to say what hee would: and most often hee answered in verses, but commonly ambiguous, in two sences. For how could those hee or shee priests, which commonly were unlearned, and knew nothing, give an answere in verse. It was also impossible, that they could have advertisements from Religions so B farre off, as men came to consult of those Oracles, yea, especially of such particula­rities, whereof ordinarily answeres were demanded of those Oracles, to bee able to give answeres to any good purpose. But I will not stay more amply to proove this point: for they which have read very little of ancient writings, know well how cer­tain it is, that these Oracles were voices proceeding from devils, which the Painims served under these names, of Apollo, of Iupiter, and other like gods.

Plutarke in a treatise he made of the defect of Oracles, sheweth, That the Ora­cles were not things invented by priests; but concerning the failing of Oracles, he is found very much distracted and troubled, not knowing how to resolve that que­stion. For there must be presupposed, that in his time (which was during the king­dome C of the emperor Traianus) and before a good while, there were no more Ora­cles: insomuch, that that good philosopher was much abashed and perplexed, from whence it should come. But because that point is well woorth the knowledge, and dooth come well for our purpose in this place, I will handle the same more at large.

You must then understand, that Plutarke, who was a great Paynim philosopher, Of the de­failance of Oracles. to finde out the cause of the failing and decay of Oracles, entreth into a question, whereof he (like a Paynim) resolves himselfe: but to prove his opinion, he useth cer­taine narrations, which may well bring us to the truth of the cause of the defailancie and ceasing of Oracles. He then entreth into disputation of the nature of the gods; D and after many discourses, hee resolveth, that there are but one sort of gods, which the Elders called Demi-gods, which are mortall; although they lived long, as five hundred or a thousand years; and he thinketh, that these demi-gods are they which the gods have engendred with mortall women. For the auncient superstition (wher­with certaine philosophers have beene led) beleeved, that the gods sometimes des­cended below, to cohabitate with women: and this served to keepe the honours of great Ladies, which sometimes forgot their duties. Plutarke then, would hereof in­ferre, that it might be, those gods which answered at Delphos and Delos, and other places, were but halfe gods, and so might be dead, and that therefore might happen the said ceasing of Oracles. Yet hee held not this opinion nor any other very reso­lutely; F but he propoundeth it for such as would like it, and it seemes to be the opini­on which he himselfe best approveth. But I doe not thinke, that any at this day will be of this opinion: for in truth it tasteth of his Paganisme, being ignorant and far straying from the true knowledge of God & of Religion: yet to prove, that the said demigods are mortal, he makes a discourse very notable and worthy the knowledge. An hystorie of the death of the god Pan. He saith then, that in the time of the emperour Tiberius, one Epitherses, a schoole-master [Page 120] in a towne of Greece, embarked himselfe upon the sea, to saile into Italie, F and placed himselfe in a ship charged with marchandize, and wherein there were many people. Making their way, they passed one day at night nigh unto the Islands called Echinades, and there the sea was so calme, that they could perceive no wind, insomuch, that the ship floating upon the water, brought them by little and little nigh unto Paxo. Where being arrived, as some supped, and other did other things, behold an high and intelligible voice, which cried Thamus, Thamus. This Thamus was the master of the ship, whose name the most part of the passengers knew not. This voice cried twice, before the master would answere. At the third time hee an­swered, unto which the voice yet cried with an higher sound, That as soone as hee should be come against the Palodes, he should make knowne unto the inhabitants G there, that the great Pan was dead. Epitherses said, That at that word, all the compa­nie which were within the ship, were exceedingly afraid and astonished. So it came into a consultation amongst that people, if the shipmaster Thamus should doe that which was commanded him by that voice. And this resolution was taken, That if when they came against the Palodes, the winds were strong and good for them, they should passe on without stay, or saying any thing; but if the sea were calme, and had no winde, that then Thamus should signifie unto the inhabitants of Palodes that which the voice had commaunded him. Beeing then there arrived, and having the sea calme without wind▪ Thamus got him into the hind-decke or sterne of the ship, and turning his face towards land right against Palodes, hee begun to crie with an H high voice, The great Pan is dead. He had no sooner atchieved & ended this speech, but all the whole companie in the ship heard a great crying and lamentation of ma­ny, mixed with a great admiration. Finally, when they were arrived at Rome, each of them within the ship spread abroad the fame of this thing, insomuch, that it came to the notice of Tiberius the emperour; who sent for the captaine or master of the ship, Thamus, who told him al at length. Tiberius beleeving it was true, that the great god Pan was dead, desired to know what god that was. Some learned people which he had about him, told him: That that Pan was the sonne of god Mercurie, and of Penelope. Behold here the account which Plutarke makes of god Pan his death, and further sayth, That in his time many heard this hystorie rehearsed by one Aemilia­nus, I sonne of the said Epitherses. But if we consider the circumstances of this hysto­rie, we shall find, That this voice was a signification of the death of Christ, which caused Oracles to faile, and overthrew the power of the devill. And it is credible, that those lamentations which were heard at Palodes, were the complaints of evill spirits, to which were delivered the signification of their kingdomes destruction. And to prove that this hystorie should bee so understood. First wee must consider, that it is reported to be in the time of Tiberius, under whom our Lord Iesus suffered death and passion. Certaine also it is, That Tiberius enquired of Iesus Christ, and understanding of his miracles, he required of the Senat, that they would cause him to be enrolled in the Letanie of their gods at Rome; but the Senat would not. More­over, K credible it is, that in the time of our Lord Iesus Christ, when amongst the Pay­nims the fame was dispersed of Christs miracles, as to raise to life the dead from their graves, to make see such as were borne blind, to heale Paralatike persons, and such like, that they beleeved that he was God: for upon lesse reasons they belee­ved others. And because he called himselfe the true shepheard, and the shepheard of shepheards, it is very likely, that the Paynims understanding this, would divine [Page 121] and gather, that it must needs bee the god Pan, which they said to bee the god of A shepheards: and because also that hee said, that hee was sent of god his father to preach to men his will, they sometimes also gave him the name of Mercurie, whom they said to be the messenger and deliverer of the will of the great god Iupiter. This may be gathered by Dion, the hystoriographer, who saith: That the emperour An­toninus making warre against the Marcommans, obtained raine from heaven of the Dion & Ca­pitol. in Mar­co Antonino. god Mercurie. And Capitolinus speaking of the same matter, saith, That the Em­perour Antoninus, to obtaine raine, had recourse to a strange Religion: but Mercu­rie was no strange god to those Paynims, so that we must needs understand that say­ing of Dion, of another Mercurie than they knew; yet gave they him that name (as it is likely) because they had heard say he was sent from God, to signifie and preach B his will. To come againe then to our purpose, the aforesaid learned men that were about Tiberius the emperour, hearing it spoken, that so many miracles were done by Iesus Christ, they easily resolved, that he was a god; understanding he called himself the great shepheard, they concluded thereof, that hee was Pan; hearing also, that he said he was sent to deliver out the will of God, and that he was borne of a virgin, they made this illation (as is to be presumed) that he must then needs bee the sonne of Mercurie, messenger of the great Iupiter, and of some chast woman, such as was Penelope: for as is likely, they could never beleeve, that hee was a virgins sonne, be­cause it repugned the order of nature, that a virgin should bring forth a child. And therefore of all those conjectures laid together, those wise men (or rather ignorant) C which were about the emperour, gathered the aforesaid answere, which they made him, That the god Pan, which died at that time, was the sonne of Mercurie and of Penelope; applying that to their gods, which they had heard spoken of our Lord Ie­sus Christ. Behold then, how this hystorie, drawne from the Paynims, is a perfect witnesse, that by the death of Christ came the defailancie and ceasing of Oracles: and indeed wee find in no hystories, that since his death Oracles have been of any account or fame, as they were before. True it is, that the men and women priests of those gods, which answered by Oracles, seeing that their master abandoned and for­sooke them, yet delivered answeres themselves of their own devices; but their trum­peries, deceits, and fictions, were soone discovered by the divulgement and dispersi­on D of Christian Religion, in such sort, as the Oracles and the Oracle deliverers became greatly discredited. Nero himselfe discovering the abuse, overthrew one Dion in Ne­rone. of the temples of Apollo, wherein were delivered Oracles, and slew all the priests belonging thereunto.

For a resolution then I hold; That at the comming of our Saviour Iesus Christ, Oracles failed, as the comming of the Sunne causeth darkenesse to depart from the At the com­ming of Christ the world was amended. earth: at his comming hee preached the true and pure heavenly doctrine to men, and after him his Apostles and Disciples preached it also: so that by the doctrine of Iesus Christ, and of his Apostles & Disciples, all Christians were instructed to feare, love, and honour God above all things, and to serve him according to his comman­dements E in puritie and simplicitie, rejecting all idolatries, superstitions, and divine services, invented by men. Moreover, they are in true doctrine taught good maners, to love their neighbours as themselves, and none to doe to another that which hee would not to be done to himselfe; to use towards his, the like same charitie that each one would should be used to him; to obey superiors and magistrates; to live conten­ted every one in the vocation whereunto God hath called him; yea generally Chri­stians [Page 122] were taught in all true vertue, whereas before the Paynims did teach nothing F (as I may say) but the maske and resemblance of vertue. For Christ & his Apostles taught men to be just, charitable, temperant, gentle, obedient, pitifull, loving good, shunning evill, and they taught not so to be outwardly onely, but inwardly also with­out feignednesse, or any dissimulation of heart: whereas the Paynims cared not to be inwardly vertuous and mannerly, so that in outward appearance they shew so to The vertue of the Pay­nims in out­ward appea­rance. be, to obtaine honour, glorie, and advauncement unto greatnesse, which was the marke and end, for which commonly they desired vertue, and not for conscience sake, nor to please God. The examples of Caesar, of Pompey, of Cicero, and generally of all the old Romanes (which have had any great reputation of vertue) doe prove, that this is true, and that they never aspired to verrue, but to obtaine honour, and to G encrease their greatnesse. Cato likewise of Vtica, which seemed in all his behaviors to despise honour, wherefore slew he himselfe? Was it to please God, or to satisfie his conscience? It is very certaine that no: for he was not so ignorant, but he knew well, that murder displeased God, and that no man should murder himselfe, more than another. Nothing could move his conscience, to incite him to slay himselfe: for he felt not himselfe culpable of any thing that deserved it. How then? Where­fore should he murder himselfe? For this, not to receive that dishonour, to fall alive into the hands of Caesar: although he knew well ynough, that there needed no more but a little humiliation, to have his life, goods, and dignities saved, (as hee himselfe confessed and declared to his son and to his friends a little before he slew himselfe;) H but his heart was so sore swolne with glorie and honour, that he loved better to slay himselfe, than to humble himselfe to Caesar. Here behold, how those Paynims aspi­red, not to have vertue, but for honour and an outward shew: whereas the doctrine of Christ teacheth us, To desire and to lust after vertues, not only to bring them un­to outward appearance, but also to adorne our hearts and our consciences inwardly therwith, and so to please God. Moreover, also we have heretofore shewed, That the Christian doctrine comprehendeth much more perfectly, the vertues of good ma­ners, than the Paynims doctrine doth. How then dare that filthie Machiavell say, That men become wicked, like unchained slaves, when Oracles failed? where found he this? where ever read hee, that men were worse, and more evill conditioned in I the time when Oracles failed, than before? Rather contrarie we reade, That when Oracles failed (which was in the time of the primitive Church) men which gave themselves to the Christian Religion, were of an holy life and conversation, & they which gave not themselves to that Religion, but persevered in their Paynisme, did yet alwayes learne of the Christians that which made them better and of more ac­count. Let any reade the workes of Seneca, Plutarke, Pliny the Second, and of many In the pri­mitive Church, the Paynims learned of the Christi­ans. other Paynim authors, which were in the time of the primitive Church, and he shal find infinit godly and Christian sentences, which the Paynims learned of the Chri­stians of their time, as may be necessarily supposed. For such sentences were never borrowed of Plato, Aristotle, or of other Philosophers which were before the com­ming K of Iesus Christ. As for example, when Plutarke disputerh of the tranquilitie of the soule; to flie anger; to shun usurie; of the profit that a man may draw from an enemie; of such as God punisheth slowly, and of many other points, hee uttereth many sentences, which are truly Christian, and doe hold nothing of the Philoso­phers doctrine, which were before Christ our Saviour. And all the workes of Seneca are full of Christian sentences: insomuch, that many have esteemed, That Seneca [Page 123] himselfe was a Christian, yea, that he was well knowne of S. Paule: which (it may A be) was not unworthie to be beleeved. For Seneca (who was in the time of Nero, and was a learned man, and a lover of the learned) might well have heard Paule speake, who at the said time was a prisoner at Rome for the doctrine which hee preached, and might well have beene so curious as to talke with him, to understand what was that doctrine, whereof all the world spoke. But whatsoever it was, none can denie, that the writings of Seneca in many places doe not demonstrate, that hee learned many things of the Christians. Wee may then conclude, That in the time when Oracles failed, and that Christian doctrine began to bee published and divulged through the world, men became better, and not more wicked, like unchained slaves (as this mocker Machiavell saith.) For although even in that time, there were found B certaine Atheists like himselfe, men must not therefore inferre, that all the world, or the most part thereof, became wicked. Neither hath Machiavell uttered this opi­nion, as having read it in any good author, but only thereby to blame the Christian Religion, as the cause of the corruption of manners. But he impudently lieth, like a shamelesse slaunderer, which dare bee so bold, as to deliver such talke, without any proofe, and the contrarie whereof is alreadie clearely proved.

6. Maxime. C

‘The Romane Church is cause of all the calamities in Italie.’

THe Romane Church (saith Machiavell) is cause that Italie D (which of old vvas the most flourishing province of the Romane empire) is at this day dismembred and cut into pettie Seignories, as is seene. By the meanes wherof, she that vvas vvont to subiugate & vanquish other provinces, is now exposed as a prey for all strange kings, vvhich vvill attempt it vvith a strong arme. And although of all Christianitie it be nighest unto the Roman Church, yet hath it of all other least Religion: because therein, that most holy Court doth little els but sow partialities and disorders. And E he that vvill proove, vvhether such evils proceed from the Romane Church, let them procure, that she may remove her seat, such as it is, for a small time, unto the countrey of the Switzers, vvhere men live in great rest and unitie. For there should you shortly see it fill the vvhole countrey vvith disorder and confusion.

[Page 124] ALthough the Romane Church be contaminated with many F The papall seat do [...]h evill, rather far off than nigh. vices, yet doth Machiavell shew himselfe here a notable slan­derer against it: for experience hath made us long time know, That it rather doth mischeefe far off than nigh hand, and that she ordinarily enricheth the place where shee abideth. Wee reade, That she hath held her seat at Avignon, by the space of seventie yeares; so that by the affluence & plentie of gold and silver, which ordinarily arrived there, the towne became so opulent & rich, that it yet tasts thereof, and gladly desireth it might bee alwayes there. As for the Suiffes, of whome Machiavell speaketh, I am assured, that there are they who would, it cost G them much money, that the seat of the Romane Church were amongst them: and if it were there, the Pope should not lacke people for his guard; for they would fur­nish him of as many as he would, and his Cardinals also, for their pay. And I am al­so of that mind, for their entertainement, they would also accord them letters to be denizons and free burgesses in all their townes, though it bee contrarie to their cu­stomes, to receive strangers. For so will they bee glad, that there shall every day ar­rive in their countrey plentie of silver, which they cannot but love better than either the Popes benedictions or pardons: yet would they also be glad to reape their par­dons at a low price. And notwithstanding Machiavell saith, That if the Romane seat were there placed, there would be no good peace, for sowing divisions amongst H the Suisses; that is not likely no more than it so did in Avignon, or the countries a­bout it. For whereas Machiavell saith; It soweth divisions and partialities in Italie; that rather happeneth by the humor of that countrey people, which are naturally subject to nourish divisions and partialities amongst both themselves and other na­tions, where they have credit; as experience is in Fraunce. Moreover, the Romanes themselves are not of Machiavels opinion, neither doe they complaine, that the Ro­mane seat brings them any domage. At the beginning of that great schisme of Popes, they shewed well, how greatly they feared to loose their seat. For so much were they afraid, that the Cardinals should againe have a French Pope, which might againe dwell at Avignon, where the said seat had so long before remained, I that they constrained the Cardinals by force, cries, and popularie violence, to elect a Pope of their owne nation: insomuch, that all through the towne of Rome, and before the place where the Cardinals were assembled to make their election, all the people in a mutinie cried with an high voice, Wee will have a Romane, or at the least Froiss. lib, 2. cap. 12. an Italian. This was the cause that the Cardinals gave them a Romane, whereof the Romane inhabitants were so joyous, that they tooke him on their shoulders to ho­nour him the more, and so long and so farre carried him through Rome, that they stifled him and smothered him with the great prease amongst their armes. When they saw their terrestriall god dead, they straight returned to the Cardinals, saying their Pope was dead, and they must needs give them another. So by their cries and K popularie tumult, they were constrained to give them a new Italian. But after they made another in Avignon, who was Anti-pope to him of Rome: insomuch, that it may well be said, That too immoderat desire of the Romans to have the holy seat at Rome, was the cause of a Papall schisme, which endured nigh fortie yeares, and was the spring of many evils.

I have before said, and it is true, That the holy seat doth more harme far off than [Page 125] nigh, and it is easie to prove by examples. For by tythes, croisadoes, buls of benefi­ces, A pardons, and other expences, the holy Father, hath ever had cunning enough to draw store of silver from farre provinces, as from Fraunce, Almaigne, England, Spaine, and from other where. And all those huge heaps of treasure, fell in no other place than at Rome and in Italie. So that a good old Civilian Lawyer was wont to say: The Court of Rome hath long time had good skill, to change lead into gold: which act, the greatest Alchymists, and the best exercised Paracelcians of our time could never doe. We also see the Romanes by the meanes of their bullish and lea­den art, maintaine themselves brave, fine, and in good order, whereas these Paracel­cians commonly go all ragged & torne, in great povertie and necessitie, having (as they say) spent their fortunes and patrimonies with blowing the coale, and are of all B men a despised people and of no account.

Yet we reade in our hystories, That our kings of France have many times hindred Popes to draw silver out of the realme, by Annates, Tenthes, Bulles, and other meanes; as in the time of Boniface the eight, Benit the eleventh, Tulius the second and third. But concerning this matter, it is good to marke the determination made in Anno 1410 by our masters of the facultie of Sorbone, and by all the Vniversitie of Paris, which resolved in a general congregation held at the Bernardines, That the French Church was not bound to pay any silver to the Pope in any manner whatso­ever, unlesse it be by the way of a charitable subsidie, and that in three cases onely; namely, to employ the said silver to the conquest of the holy land; for the reunion of Three cases into which the Sorbo­nists doe li­mit the popes pow­er to levie silver in France. C the Greekes with the Latines; and lastly, to preach the Gospell to all creatures. In which cases only, they said, men ought to furnish and provide a charitable subsidie for the Pope; yet with this condition, That the said Pope touch no silver, but that the French Church do appoint and depute treasurers to dispend and distribute it for the purposes aforesaid, and not otherwise. If this magistraticall determination were observed, verely the Pope would not be contented, but the realme would bee much bettered: and if all Christian princes did agree in the observation of this determi­nation, certainely, that would come to passe which Frier Iohn of Rochetaillade prea­ched in his time against the Pope. And because his sermon will not be far from our purpose, I will here breefely rehearse it. D

In the time that the holy seat was at Avignon, about the yeare 1360, there was a Frier minor, called Frier Iohn de Rochetaillade, which set himselfe to preach against the pride, gourmandizes, and superfluitles of the Pope and his Cardinals, which then were at Avignon, and generally against all the prelates and cleargie people, al­so against princes, which too sore oppressed their subjects. Hee alwayes tooke for his text or theme some part of the Apocalipse, and properly applied it to the Pope, Cardinals, and Prelates. Our hystoriographers say, he was a great clearke, and that he foretold the captivitie of king Iohn, and that Pope Innocent the sixt, being much greeved at his sermons, caused him to be imprisoned, fearing (said hee) that by his great knowledge he caused all the world to erre: for that good S. Peter was of opi­nion, E That ignorance preserveth men from erring, and that knowledge brings them into error. And indeed, he that knowes nothing, wherein can he erre? But this good A sermon of frier Iohn de Rochetailiade against the Pope. Frier Iohn amongst other his sermons, he preached one, which was the cheefe cause of his imprisonment, and this was the substance thereof. ‘Masters and ladies, I will tell you a strange case, which in time past of old happened amongst birds, and it is very like that now we see, and hereafter shall see, the like happen to our holy Father, [Page 126] the Pope. You must then understand, that in old time a bird was engendred in the F world, which was the fairest and most beautifull to see that was possible, but it had no feathers. The other birds hearing speake of this featherlesse bird, thought good to goe see it: and being all arrived within the view of her, they found her most ex­cellent, and pitied her, because she could not flie (as they did) for want of feathers. Then held they a Councell, to advise what it were best to doe, that this goodly bird might not die with hunger, for that shee could not flie to get her living. They then resolved amongst them, that each bird should give her part of their feathers; which they did, and as she tooke the feathers, she appeared more and more beautifull; in­somuch, that the other birds gave her still more feathers. As soone as this bird saw her selfe wel emplumed and feathered, and that all the other birds honored her, she G begun to become fierce and proud, and to despise the other birds, and yet not con­tented with the said contempt and despight, she becked also and contraried them in all shee could. Then the other birds againe thought it best, to aduise what was best to doe touching this new bird, which they had emplumed, and which was be­come so stately and insolent. They concluded in their Counsell, That it were best for every one of them to redemaund their feathers, by the meanes of which shee was so exalted in pride, that she made no account of them. Then all the compa­nie of birds finding this new bird, after they had shewed her the proud incog­nisance of her selfe, and them, each one tooke his feathers; the Peacocke first, the Faulcon after, and all the other birds, so that they left her all naked and fea­therlesse. H So masters (said Frier Iohn to the Pope and Cardinals) shall it happen to you, and doubt not thereof. For when the emperours, kings, and Christian prin­ces have taken from you the goods and riches that in former times they have gi­ven you, which you bestow in extreame pride and superfluitie, then shall you re­maine all naked. Where find you, That S. Peter or S. Silvester rid with two hun­dred or three hundred horses? yea, contrarie, their estate was very simple, enclosed and hid within Rome.’ Thus Frier Iohn preaching, spoke but the truth: yet this truth (which is so odious to the world) brought him to prison, where they caused him to finish his daies. I will then conclude this recitall, That if all Christian princes would practise the Magistrall determination of our masters of Sorbonne and of the I Vniversitie of Paris, the same would fall unto S. Peter, which fell unto Frier Iohn his bird.

Yet is it not onely by the change of lead into gold, that his Holinesse dooth Froisart, lib. 2. chap. 132, 133. 135. 140. much evill to provinces farre from Rome, but also by his interdicts and excom­munications. In the time of the aforesaid schisme of Popes, hee of Rome, who was called Vrban, sent Buls unto king Richard of England (who tooke his part, and was an Vrbanist) by which hee commaunded him to make warre upon the king of France, who was a Clementine, and gave him power to levie silver upon the Warre for the Pope of Rome. English Cleargie. Moreover, hee gave so great quantitie of pardons to all them which with a good heart did furnish silver for that warre, that it seemed hee meant K cleane to have emptied both hell and purgatorie of Englishmen: for every man or woman might draw out his father, grandfather, great grandfather, uncles, aunts, children, nephewes, and others ascendants, descendants, and collaterals, by paying so much for every poll. He further promised their soules to be guided right into para­dice, which died in this warre, or which died that yeare after they had paied the mo­ney for that said warre, nor that there should be any necessitie for the said soules to [Page 127] stray out of their way by purgatorie and the Limbo, but to goe right to paradice. A The said buls being thus preached and published through England, there was every where a great prease, that yeare to die, and to give silver, so that in a small time there was heaped up the summe of 2500000 franks. One part of this silver was given to the bishop of London, who was chosen generall to make warre upon the Clemen­tines in Spaine; and the other part was delivered to the bishop of Norwitch, who was elected generall of another armie to make warre upon France, which also was Clementine. And indeed these two armies did much harme, as well in Spaine as in France: yet the bishop of Norwitch being a young man and inconsiderat, entring upon Flaunders an Vrbanist, the king of Fraunce, meeting him therewith 100000 men, constrained him to retire homeward with shame and great losse. B

In the yeare 1513 happened great damage and hurt unto the kings of Fraunce, Annales up­on the said yeare. Du Bellay, lib. 1. of his Me­mories. and of Navarre, by the meanes of an interdict and excommunication which Pope Iulius the second of that name, cast against all the princes which had sent their em­bassadors to the counsell of Pise, whose lands and seignories he exposed and gave as a prey to all men that would take and invade them. For under colour of those wic­ked and detestable buls, the emperour Maximilian and the Switzers, constrained king Lewis the twelfth to abandon and forsake Millaine, and almost all that hee held in Italie. And on the other side, the king of England fell upon Fraunce (which by the Pope was exposed as a prey) with an armie of 3000 English, assaying to conquer part thereof. But God suffered it not: for in the meane time this wicked Pope died, C and the interdict was revoked, and peace made with the English. On the other side also, king Ferdinand of Arragon feigning he would come to prey upon France, en­tred into the kingdome of Navarre, and got and usurped it upon king Iohn d' Albert, The Pope cause of the losse of the kingdome of Navarre from the right heirs. who was disseased thereof, without being defied, yea, before he knew the king of Ar­ragon his purpose: whose successours have alwayes since detained and usurped the said kingdome of Navarre, upon the said king Iohn d' Albret, and upon his lawfull successors, as they doe yet by this title onely of usurpation, prey, and bootie; yet not­withstanding the said unjust usurpers call themselves most Catholike.

I could here accumulate many other examples, of many great domages & losses committed by Popes in strange countries, and even in Almaigne, where they have D commonly sowen warres betwixt the emperour and the princes of Almaigne, but I will content my selfe with the abovesaid examples: for I will not at length handle such an ample and almost infinit matter: but it sufficeth mee to have shewed, That the contrarie of that which Machiavell saith, is true, and that the Pope and his holy seat doe much good in the place where they are, and many evils and mischeefes in farre countries.

And as for that which Machiavell saith, That Italie is the province of Christen­dome, where there is least Religion, he saith very true: but what would hee now say, if he were alive: hee should then find, that if in his time they had so well profited in his schoole, as to be very great Atheists and contemners of God and of all Religi­on, E that now his schollers know farre more than his master. And there is no doubt, but alreadie long agoe, all Religion is contemned in Italie, yea, and even the Ro­mane Catholicke; Will you have a better example, than that which M. Comines rehearseth? He saith, That in the time of king Lewis the twelfth, there were two hou­ses at Florence, which were principall, that is to say, of Medicis and of Pacis, which were in quarell and enmitie together. They of the house de Pacis favoured the Pope, [Page 128] and the king of Naples, and by their counsell and advice did they enterprise to slay F Lawrence de Medicis (who was cheefe of his house) and all his race: and to surprise him the better, unprovided and without heed taking, they resolved to sley and mas­sacre him with all his race and sequele, upon a solemne feast day, at the houre that the great Masse was sung, and that when the priest begun to sing Sanctus, Sanctus, it should be the watch word to rush upon them. And indeed they executed their en­terprise, except that they slew not Lawrence de Medicis (who saved himselfe in the revestrie) but Iulian his brother, and certaine others of his race, were slaine. I de­mand of you, if they which enterprised and gave counsell to attempt such an act, beleeved in the Masse? we need not doubt but they were very Atheists. But if in that time (some hundred yeares agoe) Italie were so furnished with Atheists and contem­ners G of Religion, what thinke you it is now.

In conclusion, Italie, Rome, the Pope, and his seat, are truly the spring and foun­taine of all despight of Religion, and the schoole of all impietie: and as they alrea­die were in Machiavels time (as he confesseth) so are they farre more in this time. For although the papall Church of Rome both heretofore made (and yet dooth) certaine demonstrations to sustaine a Religion, yet in effect it maintaineth it no o­therwise, but by subtilties and words: for it commaundeth indeed to fast the vigils and Lent; but is there any place in the world, where they carelesse for fasting vigils and Lent, than at Rome? It commandeth chastitie to priests; but is there any place in the world, where priests, Cardinals, and others, are more furnished with whoores H and bauds? It also commandeth them to serve their benefices; but of an hundreth priests which are at Rome, there are scant one doth it: their Religion forbiddeth the sale of benefices, sepulchres, sacraments, and dispensations; but is there any place in the world, where there is a greater trafficke of them, than at Rome? It forbiddeth simonie; but where are there any simoniakes, if not at Rome and in Italie? I speake onely of the ordinances which the Romane Church hath made, yet her selfe doth not observe them. For if I would alledge the ordinances of God, which shee obser­veth no more than the other, I should too tediously rehearse them all. But breefely, the Romane Church hath invented a thousand traditions, wherewith it hath burde­ned the shoulders of poore Christians to their great abashment, but in the meane I while the Church it selfe will keepe none of them, rather that holy seat dispenseth with all them of Italie and Rome, and indeed there is no place in the world, where the Popes ordinances are lesse observed, than there, nor where all Religion is in more contempt, as Machiavell himselfe confesseth. Let Christians then make their profit of this confession of Machiavell, and so let them flie the spring of impi­etie, of Atheisme, of corruption of manners, and of the contempt of all Religion, least God punish them and make them perish with such wicked men, as make open profession thereof. K

7. Maxime. A

‘Moses could never have caused his lawes and ordinances to be observed, if force and armes had wanted. B’

THe most excellent men, mentioned in bookes (sayth our Florentine) vvhich became princes by their owne vertue, and not by fortune, vvere Moses, Cyrus, Romulus, Theseus, and such like: for fortune only gave them the occasion, and the matter to execute their vertue. As Moses found the people of Is­rael in captivitie and servitude in Aegypt. Cirus also found the Persi­ans malecontent of the proud government of the Medes. And Ro­mulus C found himselfe deiected from his birth place the towne of Al­ba. Lastly, Theseus found the towne of Athens full of troubles and confusions. Without vvhich occasions, comming by fortune, the ver­tue of their courage had not appeared, as also vvithout their vertue, such occasions had served thē nothing. All those occasions then made these persons happie, and their excellent vertue knew well how to make profit of occasions.

THis Atheist willing alwayes more strongly to shew, That hee belee­ved D not the holy Scriptures, dare vomit out this blasphemie, to say, That Moses by his owne vertue and by armes was made the prince of the Hebrewes. We see by the bookes of Moses, that he was as it were constrained of God, to take the charge to draw the Hebrew people out of Aegypt, to bring them into the land of Canaan, a place of the primitive of spring of this people. And after hee had accepted that charge: we reade, That God gave him power to doe many miracles before Pharoah, and all the people of Aegypt, that he might suffer the Hebrew people to returne in peace into the countrey, from whence they first came. After, having obtained per­mission E to returne, we see how the people were guided on the day time by a visible and apparent cloud, which went before them, and in the night by a pillar of fire. We reade so many miracles done by God in their passage through the red sea, and in the desarts, and how Moses did nothing but by the counsell and power of God a­lone. With what boldnesse then dare this stinking Atheist disgorge this talke, to say that Moses was made the prince of the Hebrew people by his owne vertue, and by [Page 130] armes. Could hee by any other meanes than by the Bible, know how and what way F Moses came to be governour of the Hebrew people: for all Paynim authors speak little thereof, and that which they speake, is but as they read in the said bookes of Moses, or by hearesay of such as read them, seeing it is certaine, that wee have no prophane author in light, that were not many worlds after Moses. If then Machia­vell can say nothing of Moses his doings, but by his owne bookes? with what impu­dencie dare hee deliver out a contrarietie from that is there written? For, to say he was made prince of the Hebrew people by his owne vertue, and by armes, that is as much as to denie streight, that God constrained him to accept that charge, to con­duct the Hebrew people, and that the said people came out of Aegypt by the mira­cles of God, and that they were conducted by the cloud and pillar of fire, and that G God nourished them all the way of the desart; which is (indeed) to denie all that is written in the bookes of Moses. Assuredly, there is no man of so heavie and dull a judgement, but he may wel know, that this most wicked Atheist hath taken pleasure, to search out the most savage Maximes that could bee devised; assuring himselfe, That he should ever find monsters of men, which also would delight in absurd and bestiall opinions, and would give passage and way to his doctrine. And yet the bet­ter to shew his beastlinesse, this doctrine may be overthrowne even by the writings of the Paynims themselves. Trebellius Pollio writeth, That Moses was onely familiar Treb. Pollio in Clau. Cor. Tacit. annal. lib. 21. with God. Cornelius Tacitus (going about to calumniate and blame the Iewish Re­ligion contained in the bookes of Moses) confesseth, That the king of Aegypt made H the Hebrew people to goe out of his countrey, for sores, rottennesse, and other ma­ladies, wherewith the Aegyptians were infected. The Poets and Philosophers, when they sometimes speake of Moses doctrine, they call it sacred Oracles, shewing ther­by, that they confesse, That the deeds and writings of Moses came from God, and not from his owne vertue.

But with what impudencie dare Machiavell compare Moses to these idolaters, Romulus and Theseus? What similitude had they with Moses in their life or in their death? Romulus and Theseus were two bastards, rude & violent men in their youth, whereof the one slew his brother, and the other his sonne; the one finished his daies slaine and massacred by his citizens, and the other was banished and chased from his I owne. Can any finde the like in Moses? But this Maxime of Machiavell hath no need of a more ample confutation; for the truth is so cleare and apparent to the contrarie, that a man may manifestly see, that this Florentine is a most wicked slaun­derer and impudent lier.

Yet thinke I good to marke another beastlinesse and ignorance, in that he saith, That Theseus came to the domination of Athens, because hee found the estate of Plutarke in Thes. the Athenians in confusion: for cleane contrarie he came unto it, because hee was avowed and acknowledged for the sonne of Egeus, king of Athens, and was excee­dingly well liked of the Athenians, because hee had acquired the reputation of a magnanimous and valiant man, in that he slew and overcame many theeves, which K brigandized and robbed the countrey of Attica, and the countries adjoyning. And to say, the estate of Athens was confused, is a jeast of Machiavels invention. And in that he saith, That the occasion and meanes that Romulus had to make himselfe a prince, was because he found himselfe dejected from his birth place, the towne of Alba, doth he not shew himselfe a man of good judgement? For can a man say in good sence and reason, that to bee dejected from his countrey, disavowed of his pa­rents, [Page 131] as a bastard, to be put to nourishment amongst shepheards and beasts, to be A impoverished and destituted of all meanes, that (I say) these are means and occasions to be made a prince, and to be the founder of a towne? If this be true, there will be found men ynough, which have all those goodly meanes to become princes, and so will there be found more princes than other people. But contrarie, the meanes that we reade, whereby Romulus became a prince and founder of a towne, were, That hee was a man, strong and violent, cunning in armes, who gathered together many va­gabonds and people of execution, whereof he made captaines; after, he and Remus his brother founded Rome, and to besole ruler, he slew his brother Remus, and made himselfe king.

8. Maxime.

‘B Moses usurped Iudea, as the Gothes usurped a part of C the Empire.’

WHen people are oppressed (sayth M. Nicholas) vvith famine, Discourse, lib. 2. cap. 9. vvarre, or servitude in their countrey, oftentimes they goe to conquer other countries, vvherein they chaunge their name. As the people of Israel, being oppressed vvith servitude in Aegypt, under the conduct of Moses, occupied a part of Syria, vvhich he called Iudea: even as the Gothes and Vandales occupied also the West Empire. D Likewise also the Maurusians, auncient people of Syria, perceiving the comming of the Hebrewes vvith a great povver from Aegypt, feeling not themselves strong enough to resist them, abandoned their countrey, and vvithdrevv themselves into Affricke, vvhere they conquered ground, and chased avvay the naturall inhabitants. This may be proved by the authoritie of the historian Procopius, vvho vvrit in the life of Bellisarius, That he read letters in certaine pillars vvrit­ten, in the countrey of Maures in Affricke, vvhich contained this in­scription: Nos Maurisci, qui fugimus à facie Josu latronis filij Nave: E that is to say, Wee are the Mauricians vvhich fled before the face of Josue, the cheefe sonne of Nave.

[Page 132] THis Atheist having heretofore said, That Moses was made prince F of the Hebrewes by his owne vertue, and by armes, will now per­suade, that hee was a theefe and an usurper of anothers countrey, without any title or reason, and that he seized upon Iudea, as the Gothes and Vandales did of Lumbardie, Spaine, and other coun­tries of the Romane empire. I have before protested, as I yet doe, that it greeveth me much to defile my paper with so filthie speeches, yet the more am I vexed, that the eares and eyes of so many persons should be occupied in rea­ding and hearing things evill sounding, and so farre from all pietie and veritie: but it is necessarie to discover the doctrine and the doctor of our courtiers at this day; which thinke, that the damnable bookes of this Atheist should serve for rules to con­duct G affaires of Estate, as the sterne serves to guide a ship. To confute then this Ma­xime, Joseph. lib. 1. Antiq. cap. 13. 14. wee know, that the land of Iudea was first called the land of Canaan, having taken that name of Canaan, the sonne of Noe, which dwelt there after the deluge, and was the first stocke of the Canaanites in that countrey: one part of that land was called Palestine or Philistine, which name it tooke of Philistines (a people com­ming from Philistim, Noe his rerenephew) which were a mightie and strong peo­ple of that land, which had the government of the other people of the countrey: one part also of that land of Canaan was called Iudea, of the name of Iuda, who was a prince (even the cheefe) of the twelve patriarkes of the children of Iacob, H from whence came the people of Israel, which planted themselves in that part of the land of Canaan, which was called Iudea. We reade not, that in the time of Moses this countrey was called Syria, neither that it was comprehended under the name of Syria; for from that time the countrey, which after men called Syria, was called the land of Aram, who was the sonne of Sem, the sonne of Noe: although such as came after, under that name of Syria, comprised the countrey of Assyria also, which in Moses his time was called the land of Assur, who was also the sonne of Sem, the sonne of Noe. And therefore is manifestly seene the beastlinesse and igno­rance of Machiavell, when he sayth, That Moses usurped a part of Syria, seeing the name of Syria was not yet invented, much lesse comprised the land of Canaan. But I what could a simple secretarie of the towne of Florence either have read or seene, except the registers of their towne-house? but good authors, Greeke or Latine, he never read, as is easie to judge by his writings, wherein hee alledgeth no story to en­rich his worke, but the bad and slender examples of government of the Genowaies, of the Florentines, of the Pope, of the duke of Millaine, and of other such like pet­tie potentates of Italie; he alledgeth sometimes some words out of Titus Livius, but to so little purpose as may be. Moreover, it is knowne, That the land of Canaan was of God many times promised to Abraham and to his seed (as is seene in Genesis) and that Abraham dwelt there, and his race after him, after he departed from his ne­phew Lot, unto the time that Iacob and his familie were by famine constrained to re­tire K into Aegypt. Should we then say, that when the Hebrews returned from Aegypt to dwell in their originall land, which was promised them of God (who is master of heaven and earth) that they were usurpers, like the Gothes and Vandales? nay con­trarie, they were the just and true possessors thereof, and with good right expulsed and drave out the Canaanites, occupiers thereof, which usurped from them the land of their education, which God had promised and assigned to them for an heritage.

[Page 133] And as for that which he alledged of the Maurusianz, it is a very fable, for the The Mauru­sians came from Media, not from Siria nor Phaenicia. A names of all such nations as were vanquished by Moses & Iosua are plainly set down in their bookes, but there is found no name of Maurusians, neither is there found written in any good author, that in the land of Canaan there ever dwelt any nation called Maurusians: and as for that nation of Africa called Maures, Mauritanians, or Maurusians, it never came out of the countrie of Palestine, but out of Mëdia; in­somuch as by the tongues corruption these people were called Maures of Medes as Salust saith, who is a more credible author than this beast Machiavel, who saith, Salust bello Iugurthi. that the Maurisians of Africke came ancientlie from Siria.

And as for that inscription Nos Maurusi &c. alledged by Machiavel, out of Procopius, true it is that Procopius saith; that in Numidia in Africke, the Maurisians Procopius. lib 4. de bello Vandal. B builded a towne called Tinge, and there set vp two pillars of white stone, where they put the said inscription, in the Phoenician tongue & letters: but Procopius saith not, that hee either saw or read (as Machiavel saith) the said inscription graved in the pillars. And it is not likely to bee true, that they could have endured from the time of Iosua till the time of Procopius, (which were 2500 yeeres & more,) entier and whole beeing of white stone, no not although they had beene of Rocke stone, which will endure longer than the white stone which is soft, seeing the wars and devastations a­riving during that space of time, in Africa, and all the parts of the world. Also other authors (farre more authentike and ancient than Procopius) which speake of the af­faires of Africke, doe nothing touch the said inscription: absurd also it is to say, that C the Maurusians would make knowne to their posterity, that they were cowards, flying before their enemies without any resistance: absurd also it is to say, that in one same towne they should set up two pillars of one same thing; but rather to mortalize the memorie of their flight, they would have erected two pillars, in divers places distant one from another, to the end that if one perished, the other might remaine. But wee need not be abashed of Procopius, who was a Rethorician a Sophister and a Grecian, which are three qualities yeelding presumption, that he might (as too light & for­ward in his accompts) feigne too much touching that inscription. For in the same place hee saith, that the Maurusians a people of Phoenicia, abandoned their country, and went to dwell in Africa, flying before Iosua, & the people of Israel; and father, D that they were a people composed of the Iebusites, Gessurians, and other people na­med in the Bible. But the Bible confuteth him therein. For it is written, that neither the Iebusires, nor the other Canaanites, were driuen out of their countrey, by the Hebrewes, but were made their tributaries. And therfore to conclude this point, nei­ther Machiavel not Procopius (his great author) is therein more to be credited than the Rabbines dreames, which hold; That the Romanes sprung from the Idumaeans, and the Germaines from the Canaanites. Yet let this bee said, not any way to dimi­nish the credit, and authoritie of Procopius, who notwithstanding I con­fesse is well to bee beleeved in the hystorie, which he hath writ­ten touching the gests and wars made in his time, E by the emperour Iustinian and his lieu­tenants Belisarius, Narces, and others.

9. Maxime. F

‘The Religion of Numa, was the chiefe cause of Romes felicitie.’

ROmulus (saith Machiavell) all the time of his kingdome, used Discourse. lib. 1. cap. 12. the Romane people to make warre, which made them martiall, G rude, horrible, fierce, sanguinarie, and without all humilitie and civili­tie: But Numa Pompilius succeeding Romulus in the crowne, percei­ving hee had to doe with a people very hard to governe, and to bring under pollicie without softening and mitigating of their mindes, thought it best to devise some goodlie Religion, well adorned and decked with beautifull ceremonies: because without Religion hee thought it impossible to maintaine any pollicie amongst men. Wher­fore assoone as he came to the crown, he began to make divers good­ly ordinances touching Priests, and the ceremonies of Religion, ma­king the people beleeve, that hee had them revealed from the god­desse H Egeria. And this fell out so well for him, that after his opinion (saith Machiavell) the Religion which hee instituted, was one of the principall causes of Romes felicitie. For it served to give hart and hope to souldiers, to cause them range in battaile, to hould them qui­et in the field, to maintaine good men, and to overthrow the wicked, to appease mutinies in the people, and in all things to make them o­bedient. But a Prince ought not to thinke it impossible for him, which I was possible for king Numa, nor to bee any thing discouraged, if the subiects he hath to deale with, bee any thing wittie, that they vvill not suffer themselves to be carried to a nevv faith. For I may vvell say (saith he) that the Florentine people are not very beastly and rude, yet Frier Ierome Savanarola preaching at Florence, made ten thousand Flo­rentines beleeve, that he prively had conference and spoke vvith God, vvho revealed unto him such things as hee preached in the pulpit▪

MAchiavell having assayed to instruct a prince to reject all Religion K out of his heart, and to be an Atheist, & a contemner of all pietie: now would he persuade him to invent and compose a new Religi­on, that is gallant and beautifull, well farced and stuffed with cere­monies, such as Numa his religion was; yet not to beleeve therein, but for his subjects to beleeve: that with the feare of religion they [Page 135] might the better be detained in their offices & duties; and that the prince might be A the more encouraged to procure the building of a new Religion, such as that of Nu­ma was, he saith; it is no difficult thing to do; alledging the example of the Floren­tines, whom Ierome Savanarola made beleeve what he would, by fayning he had a re­velation from God. But it is no mervaile if this Atheist, who hath no religion, doth thus play with Religions deriding all, willing also to persuade a prince to forge a new one: for out of a vessell full of poyson, what other thing can come but poyson? But it is strange hee will propose Numa, for a prince to imitate in the making of a new Religion, for the greatest thing Numa invented in his Religion, was the temple Dionis. Ha­lic. lib. 1. of Faith, where he established many ceremonies to induce people to reverence their Faith, and to feare perjurie; hee ordeined also, that upon controversies happening B amongst parties, they should bee bound to goe to the said temple, and there sweare with certaine great ceremonies, upon the truth of the points of their conten­tions. Secondly hee persuaded the people, that such as usurped upon the limits of o­thers possessions, were predestinate to the gods of hell, to the end every man might bee afraid to take anothers goods. But doth not Machiavell teach the plaine con­trarie? doth not hee say, That a prince, nor any other ought to observe his faith but for his profit? doth he not also say, That a prince should know the art of trompery & deceit, and that hee should make no scruple to bee perjured? shewes hee not also, That a prince in a conquered countrey, ought to plant colonies and chase away the ancient naturall inhabitants from their goods and possessions. All which things are C directly contrary to the Religion of Numa, which he commendeth so much, but it is likely, that this ignorant beast praiseth Numa his Religion, without knowing that it conteined the points which we now speake of.

I doubt not but some wil judge at the first sight, That this religion of Numa could not bee evill, which taught so good things; as to observe Faith; not to bee perjured, nor to usurpe others goods and possessions; but it must not be approved therefore: for one must not by an evill and false, introduce a good thing. This was good, to bring the people to an observation of Faith; but to build a temple to Faith, to ima­gine it was a god, or goddesse, and to doe service and ceremonies unto her, these were damnable and against Gods honour, from whom they steale the glory that be­longs D unto him, when they, by forme of Religion do honour to another thing than him, be it a creature or devised thing. Therfore was not that a christian oration, which was made by Monsier Capel, the kings advocate in the court of Parliament at Paris, in Anno 1535? whereby praising the dead king Francis the second of that name of happie memorie, because hee had care of Religion, hee shewed, That realmes, and commonweales of the ancient Paynims, which had good care well to observe their Religion, obtained prosperitie in all felicitie. For that (saith he) although their Religi­on was false, and that they lived in error and darkenesse, yet they prospered, because esteeming it good and true, they had it in a singular reverence and observation. This oration of Capel, had truly a little of Machiavell his doctrine, to say, that a false Re­ligion E was cause that the Paynims prospered.

But to shew, that Machiavell knowes not what hee saith, I will here recite an hi­storie Tit. Livius, lib. 10. Dec. 4. to this purpose. In the yeere 574 after the foundation of Rome, in the time of the consulship of Lucius Manlius, and Fulvius Flaccus as men digged the earth in a certaine place in Rome, they found the sepulchre of king Numa, where there were two arches of hewen stone, in the one of which Numa was buried, & in the other were [Page 136] the bookes found which he had written, wrapped in waxe, in such sort as they seemed F to be new, there were seven in Latin, touching the ceremonies of the Religion which hee instituted. Incontinent a fame went of these novels all over, how the bookes of king Numa were found touching Religion, insomuch as every man attended, that they should be divulged, and that by their meanes all abuses in the Romane Religi­on should alwaies bee reformed. Yet to doe nothing rashly, the consuls gave charge to Quintus Petilius lieutenant of justice, well to turne over, and peruse those bookes, and to report the truth of them unto the Senat. Petilius read them from the one end unto the other, and of them certified his opinion unto the Senat: and it was found, that the Religion which was handled in those bookes, was of no accompt, and that it should bee a pernitious and damageable thing to the common wealth, to bring that G Religion into use: so was it resolved by a decree of the Senat, that those books should bee publiklie burnt before all the people, which was done. I would now gladly know of Machiavell, who so much esteemeth the Religion of Numa, without ever having seene his bookes, if hee can yeeld a better jugdment of them than the Lieutenant Petilius, who read them, and than all the Romane Senat. Is not this as a blinde man to judge of coulours, who speakes of a thing hee knowes not.

As for Frier Ierome Savanarola the Florentins shewed well, that hee was no such De com. lib. 2. cap. 25. 53. 54. man as would leade them to any new Religion, neither preached hee unto them any other Religion, but the old Romish Religion, only denouncing unto them somtime the vengeances & punishments of God, which from heaven should fall upon them, H if they repented and amended not their sinnes, and this hee assured them as though hee had had some revelation from God. But amongst other things which hee prea­ched and affirmed most, was, that there should come a king out of France into I­talie, which should deliver the countrey from so many tyranizers and potentates, as then held the countrey in great servage and slaverie. This talke pleased some which desired change, though others delighted not in it. About the time that hee made those sermons, king Charles the eight made a voiage unto Naples, who assoone as hee was seene in Italie, all the world began to say, and beleeve that Frier Ierome was a true prophet, and that hee had well foretould, that which they see come to passe. The worst was, that the said king did nothing worthie of accompt in the voiage, in­somuch I that the best part of Ieromes prophesie (which was to purge Italie of so ma­ny tyranizers) remained yet to accomplish. Then the reputation of this good Frier Ierome, began not onely to diminish, but also men began to say and beleeve that hee was an abuser; so that in the end hee was accused at Florence, to be a most wic­ked heretike; and his enemies said, hee were worthie to bee put into a sacke and to be cast into the river: and because hee still continued to preach his first theme; That the king of France should yet againe come into Italie, to performe that which he had not executed in that first voiage, and that the will of God was so, and if hee did not accomplish it, yet God himselfe would punish it: the Pope and the Duke of Millan, which were hereat troubled, for they thought this was but a bait to cause the king of K France to come another time into Italie, where of they were greatlie afraid, therefore ioyned they together against this poore Frier, and writ to the seignorie of Florence, to doe justice upon him as upon a seducer and an heretike.

Amongst others which tooke Ierome in hand there was found a Frier (for there never was love betwixt the Friers, and the Iacobines) which would needes maine­taine A disputati­on by Fire. against him, that hee was an heretike, and to prove his so saying, he presented [Page 137] unto Ierome the combat, to commit themselves both into the fire, and that hee A which was not hurt by the fire, should be held (as it was reason) for a soothsayer, and the other whom the fire burned, for a lyer and an abuser. Frier Ierome was sore a­bashed to heare speake of such a manner of disputation, and indeed would not ac­cept it: for he was not so learned not so farre a student in Logicke, that he had lear­ned such a kind of argumentation, to prove his doctrine by fire: yet was there found another young Iacobin, a familiar friend of Ieromes, which accepted the combat, to maintaine his friends quarrell. Then was the day and place assigned in the towne of Florence, for those two valiant combattants, both of them to place themselves upon a great heape of faggots, which were laid to that end, for to set fire thereunto as soone as they came upon them. The day assigned being come, behold the two B combattants appeared: but the Iacobin had about him (as they call it) the precious bodie of the Host for his defence, which he tooke betwixt both his hands: the Frier and the Seignorie shewed, That that was no reasonable defence for the Iacobin, and therefore urged him to let goe the Host: but hee would not for any thing de­part from it: insomuch, as by that meanes the combat ended, and each one which came to that place to see those valiant combattants goe to the fire, returned to their houses. But not long after they were all three endighted, and I know not how nor wherefore, they were accused and condemned (for I finde nothing written thereof) but they were all three burnt. Here behold how the Florentines handled this poore Frier Ierome, whom Machiavell reports to have spoken with God. It may be, some C at the beginning had some good opinion of him; but in the end, they made him well know, that he was no such able man, to persuade them either to the Religion of Numa, or to any other Religion: for the most part of them cared for neither the one nor the other.

10. Maxime. D

‘A man is happie, so long as Fortune agreeth unto his nature and humor.’

FOrtune may be compared (saith M. Machiavell) to a great E floud, vvhich nothing can resist, vvhen it overflowes his Cha. 25. De Prince. Discourse. lib 2. cap. 29. bankes vvith great inundations. But vvhen it remaines in his ordinarie course, or vvhen it overfloweth not vvithout measure, the force thereof may easily bee resisted, by levies, ditches, rampiers, and other like obstacles: so Fortune is sometimes so un­measurable [Page 138] in violence, that no vertue can resist her; yet vertue may F afterward repaire the evils vvhich that overflowing violence of For­tune hath brought; it may also very vvell so resist Fortune, vvhich is moderate, and not too violent, as the forces thereof shall not hurt. I iudge therefore (saith he) that prince happie, unto vvhose nature and manner of doings, there happeneth an accordant and a consonant time. For the diversitie of times, make that two (by contrarie meanes) come to one same end and effect; and also, that two (by one same meanes) doe come to contrarie ends. So that if hee vvhich governes himselfe moderately, encounter and meet vvith a time, vvherein his G vertue is requisit, he cannot faile but prosper: yet if the time change, he shall undoubtedly overthrow himselfe, if hee likewise change not his manners and order of life. Pope Iulius in all his actions procee­ded vvith extreame fiercenesse and hastinesse, yet his actions succee­ded vvell, but many others have fared evill, by using too precipitate promptitude and hast: Whereof I conclude (saith he) that men are happie, so long as fortune accordeth to their humour and complexi­on: but as soone as she beginneth to varie and dissent, then goe they H fast downe the vvheele; vvhom also shee determineth to overthrow, she blindeth them ordinarily; shee can likewise chuse fit men at her pleasure to cast downe the vvheele: commonly she applies & gives her selfe to young and inconsiderate people, vvhich are most ha­zardous and prompt in execution, therein imitating the nature of women, which doe best love young men, such as to obey them, must rather be spurred than flattered.

BY this description of Machiavell is evidently seene, that he thinks I that which the poets writ for fables concerning Fortune, is the very truth. For the Paynim poets have written, That Fortune is a goddesse, who giveth good and evill things to whom she list. And to denote, that this shee doth inconsiderately and without judge­ment, they wrap her head in a cloth, least with her eyes she see, and know to whom she giveth; so that she never knoweth unto whom she doth good or evill: moreover, they describe her standing upright upon a boule, to denote her in­constancie and unstaiednesse, turning and tossing, one while on the one side, ano­ther while on the other. Now Machiavell would make men beleeve, that this is true, K and that all the good and evill which comes to men, happeneth, because they have Fortune accordant or discordant to their complexions. Hee after sayth; That shee commonly favoureth young people, such as are hazardous and inconsiderate; to the end, that therby men might learne that rule, to be rash, violent, and headie, that they may have Fortune favourable unto them. But all this doctrine tends to the same end as the former Maximes doe, namely, to insinuate into mens minds and [Page 139] hearts a despight and utter contempt of God and his providence. For let man have A once this persuasion; That no good comes unto us from God, but from Fortune; he will easily forsake the service of God: as also when men beleeve, that evill (that is to say, the punishments of vices and sinnes) come not from the just judgement of God, but onely from Fortune, which inconsiderately and rashly gives evils without consideration, whether they merit them, or no, and as soone to the good as to the wicked; then need we not doubt, but straight such a man is emptied of all feare of God, and readie to fall into every vice. Here may you see the scope and end where­unto this wicked man tendeth to bring princes and other men, leaving no manner of impietie behind to infect and sow his poyson in the world.

But against this we have good preservatives drawne out of the holy Scriptures, B whereby we are assured, That nothing fals to us, but by Gods providence, and that such afflictions as are sent us, are for our good, least the slipperie way of prosperitie make us fall, to our destruction: insomuch, as wee praise God for both good and evill; resolving our selves, that that which unto our carnall sences appeareth to bee evill, is not evill to our soules, but very healthfull and good, because there is a Chri­stian Maxime, That no evill can happen to a Christian, from the hand of God our Father: but my purpose is not here to handle that point of Theologie any further, but I will confute Machiavell, even by the Paynims themselves.

And first I oppose against him almost all the auncient Philosophers, which have maintained, That nothing happeneth, nor is done, without some efficient cause, al­though C to us it be unknowne. True it is, that they make a distinction of causes: for they say, that God is the first cause, which holds in action all other inferior causes; God is the first cause of all things. which they call Second, and makes them worke their effects: and although often­times in this distinction of causes, they attribute some things to second causes, which they should attribute to the first alone, yet notwithstanding, they referre all things to God mediately or immediately. Very true it is, that sometimes they use that name of Fortune, applying themselves to the manner of speech used amongst the people; but there was never Philosopher so beastly, that ever thought her to be any goddesse: but when the auncient Philosophers say any thing comes by fortune, or by adventure, or contingencie; they meane, that the efficient cause of such a thing D is unknowne: for that is their doctrine and manner of speech, to say, that a thing happeneth or chanceth by Fortune, and contingently, when they know not the cause thereof.

Learnedly speakes Plutarke to this purpose, when he sayth; That the poets have Plutarke in libello de For­tuna. done great wrong to Fortune, to say, she is blind, and that she gives her gifts to men rashly without knowing them: for (sayth he) it is we which know it not: for Fortune is no other thing but the cause (whereof we are ignorant) of things which wee see come to passe. And therfore the Stoicke philosophers, although they knew not the second causes of all things, no more than other philosophers, yet used they another manner of speech than they, and attributed the haps and chances of all things unto E the ordinance and providence of God, which they called by the name of Fatum: yet indeed the Fatum differeth much from the providence of God, which the Chri­stians hold. For the Stoickes held, That God could worke no otherwise than the order of second causes would beare and leade him unto: but wee hold, That God is free in operation, and not tied to second causes, without which he can do that which he doth by them, and can change them at his pleasure.

[Page 140] Timotheus an Athenian captaine, comming one day from the war, where his af­faires F had succeeded and sped well, hee was much greeved at some, which said, that he Plu. in Silla. was very happie and fortunate: so that one day in a publike assemblie of all the peo­ple of Athens, hee made an oration, wherein hee discoursed all his gestes and victo­ries, uttering by the way, the meanes and counsell which hee had used in the condu­ction of his affaires: and after all this discourse, Maisters said hee, Fortune hath had no part in all this that I have accounted unto you; as if he would say, That it was by his owne wisedome, that these things had so well succeeded to him. The gods saith Plutarke, were offended at this foolish ambition of Timotheus, insomuch, that he did never after, any thing of account, but all things he did, turned against the haire, till hee came to bee hated much of the Athenian people, that in the end hee was bani­shed, G and chased from Athens. Hereby we may see, that the ancient Paynims, meant to attribute to the gods, that which men in their common manner of speech attri­buted to Fortune, but they never beleeved shee was a goddesse.

When Messiere de Commines speaketh of the constable of S. Pol, who was so great and puissant a lord, yet in the end such evill luck befell him, that his hand was De Com. lib. 1. cap. 18. cut off. Heereof hee makes a question, and wisely, and religiously absolveth it: What shall wee say (saith hee) of Fortune? This man that was so great a lord, that by the space of twelve yeeres, he had handled and governed king Lewis the eleventh, & the Duke Charles of Bourgoigne; hee was a wise knight, and had heaped together great treasures, and in the end fell into her net. Wee may then well say, that this deceitfull H Fortune, beheld him with an evill countenance, nay contrary wee must answere (saith hee) that Fortune is nothing but a poeticall fiction, and that God must of necessitie have forsaken him, because hee alwaies travailed with all his power, to cause the war still to continue, betwixt the king and the duke of Bourgoigne: for upon this war was founded his great authoritie and estate, and hee should bee very ignorant, that would beleeve, that there was a Fortune therein, which could guide so wise a man to obtaine the evill will of two so great princes at once, and also of the king of England, which in their lives accorded in nothing, but in the death of this constable. Beholde the very words of Commines, speaking of Fortune, which senteth as much of a good man, and a good Christian, as the Maxime of Machiavell tastes of a most wicked I Atheist.

And as for that which Machiavell saith, That Fortune favours such as are most hazardous, and rash: Titus Livius is of a farther opinion, who speaking of the victo­rie, Tit. Livi. lib. 2. Dec. 3. which Anniball obtained, nigh the lake Trasimene, against the consull C. Flammi­nius, saith; That evill luck came by the temeritie of Flamminius, which was nourished and maintained in him, by fortune: whereas before, things had well succeeded with him; but now, hee which neither tooke counsell of the gods, nor of men, it was no mervaile, if sodainely hee fell into ruine. This losse of the battaile, was the cause that Fabius Maximus was elected Dictator to go against Anniball, as indeed after his ele­ction, he tooke the field with a new army: and certain time after, being sent for of the Senat, to assist at Rome certain sacrifices and ceremonies, he left in the campe Mi­nutius K his Lieutenant, saying unto him in this manner: I pray you Minutius take heed you do not as Flamminius did, but trust you more in good counsell than in for­tune, better it were to bee assured, not to be vanquished, than to hazard your selfe to bee vanquisher. In another place Titus Livius rehearseth, That Caius Sempronius captaine of the Roman Armie, against the Volsques, trusting in Fortune as a thing Lib. 4. Dec, 1. [Page 141] constant and perdurable, because alwaies before, the Romanes had it in custome to A overcome that nation, used no prudence, nor good counsell, in his conduction, but hazard and temeritie: therefore saith Livie, fortune and good successe followeth & abandoneth rashnesse, and this happeneth most commonlie. Heere you see the opi­nion of Fabius Maximus, and of Titus Livius, much better than that of Machiavell, who would persuade us, that wee had better bee rash, than prudent to have fortune favourable unto us: for certaine it is that the haps which men call of Fortune, pro­ceede from God, who rather blesseth prudence, which hee hath recommended un­to us, than temeritie: and although sometimes it happen, that hee blesse not our counsels and wisedomes, it is because we take them not from the true spring and fountaine, namely from him of whom B we ought to have demanded it, and that most com­monly wee would, that our owne wisedome, should bee a glorie unto us, where­as onely God should bee glorified.

Heere endeth the second part, entreating of such Religion as a Prince should use.

THE THIRD PART, TREATING of such Pollicie, as a Prince ought to hold in his Commonweale. F G

¶ The Praeface.

I Have before in order disposed all Machiavels Maximes, tou­ching Counsell and Religion; and at large I have shewed, That H all his doctrine shootes at no other marke, but to instruct a prince to governe himselfe after his owne fancie, not delivering his [...]are to such as would shew him the truth, and to dispoile himselfe of all pietie, conscience, and religion. There remaines now to handle the third part of his said doctrine, which concerneth Pollicie, whereof there are many parts, for in it are comprehended such Maximes, as concerne Peace, War, Faith, Promise, Oth, Clemencie, Crueltie, Liberalitie, Covetousnesse, Constancie, Craft, Iustice, and other vertues and vices, considerable in publike and politike persons. All these things Machiavell handles in such sort, as it is easie to know, that his onely purpose was to instruct a prince to bee a true tyrant, and to teach him the art of tyrannie. In I which art, verily hee hath shewed himselfe a great doctor, yea far greater than Barto­lus: for Bartolus, (who was a renowmed doctor in the civile law) in his treatise written of tyrannie, wades no thing so deepe in the matter as Machiavell doth, although reading the treatise of Bartolus, it seemes that Machiavell hath learned a great deale of his knowledge: but Machiavell applieth it contrary, seeking, that men should hold it for good, whereas Bartolus speaketh of it as of a damnable thing, which men ought to repulse and shun with all their power: and to conferre a little thereupon, I will here summarily recite certaine points of doctor Bartolus, touching this matter of tyrannie, to shew that which Machiavell hath stolne, yet would applie it to the dutie of a prince, whereas Bartolus at­tributeth it to the iniquitie and mallice of a tyrant. First Bartolus constituteth two kinds K of tyrants, the one in title, the other in exercise. A tyrant in title (saith he) is hee which without any title, or els with a bad title usurpeth a domination and seignorie: A tirant in exercise is hee, who having a lawfull title to dominier and rule, ruleth not iustly and loy­allie as a good prince ought to doe: after this hee numbreth ten sorts of actions, whereby a tyrant is manifested to be a tyrant in exercise. The first action is, when he puts to death the mightiest and most excellent persons amongst his subiects, for feare they should arise [Page 143] against his tyrannie. The second, when he troubleth and afflicteth good and wise men of A his domination, least they should discover his vices to the people. The third action, when he seekes to abolish studies and good letters, to the end wisdome may not be learned. The fourth, when he forbiddeth lawfull and honest assemblies and congregations, fearing men will arise up against him. The fift, when hee hath spies in all places, fearing men speake evill of his evill actions. The sixt, when hee maintaines divisions amongst his subiects, to the end, one part may feare another, and so neither the one nor the other arise against him. The seventh, when he seekes to hold his subiects poore, to the end, that they being occupied in the meanes to get their living, they may machinate nothing against him. The eight, when he seekes to maintaine warre to effeeblish his subiects, and to abo­lish studies, and to make himselfe strong, when he needs. The ninth, when hee trusteth B more in strangers than in his owne subiects, and that he be takes himselfe unto a strange guard. And the tenth action is, when there is partialitie amongst his subiects, and he adhereth more to the one than the other. Which tenne kinds of action, Bartolus proveth by reasons of law to be truly tyrannicall, by which a tyrant in exercise is known and ma­nifested to be a tyrant, and especially (sayth he) by these three kinds; when hee maintai­neth division amongst his subiects; when he empoverisheth them; and when he afflicteth them in their persons and goods, insomuch, that the most part of the people are miscon­tented. And finally, he concludeth, That to such tyrants by right and reason men ought not to obey nor appeare before thē, but that they ought to be dispossessed of their estates. But in all this doctrine of Bartolus can you find one onely point, that Machiavell would C not have applied and taught to a prince? All these tenne kinds of tyrannicall actions, set down by Bartolus, are they not so many Maximes of Machiavell his doctrine taught to a prince? Saith he not? That a prince ought to take away all vertuous people, lovers of their commonwealth, to maintain partialities and divisions, to impoverish his subiects, to nourish warres, and to doe all other the aforesaid things, which Bartolus saith to bee the works of tyrants. We need then no more to doubt, that the purpose of Machiavell, was not to forme a true tyrant; and that hee hath not stolne from Bartolus, one part of his tyrannicall doctrine which he teacheth, which yet he hath much augmented and enri­ched. For he hath added, That a prince ought to governe himselfe by his owne counsell; and he ought not to suffer any to discover unto him the truth of things; and that hee D ought not to care for any Religion (as we have shewed before) neither that he ought to observe any faith or oth, but ought to be cruell, a deceiver, a fox in craftinesse, cove­tous, inconstant, unmercifull, and perfectly wicked, if it be possible, as we shall see here­after. So that hereby apparently may be seene, That Machiavell is a farre greater do­ctor in the art of tyrannie, than Bartolus; yet I compare them not together: For that which Bartolus hath written of tyrannie, was to discover and condemne it: but that which Machiavell hath written, was to cause princes to practise and observe it, and to sow in their hearts a true tyrannicall poyson, under the pretext and name of a princes dutie and office. Finally, there is no cause nor reason to compare this beastly Machia­vell, a simple burne-paper-scribe of the towne-house of Florence, with this great Do­ctor E Bartolus, who was one of the excellentest Lawyers of his time, and for one such is yet acknowledged. But now let us enter into the matter.

1. Maxime. F

‘That Warre is just, which is necessarie, and those Armes reasonable, when men can have no hope by any other way, but by Armes. G’

MAchiavell exhorting the magnificent Lawrence de Me­dicis, to get all Italie, persuadeth him by this Maxime. He shewes him, that Italie is fit and readie to receive a new prince, because it is now falne into extreame deso­lation, more than ever the Iewes vvere in the servitude Hebrewes. of Aegypt. And that this miserable province hath attended to be de­livered from her servitude by a prince (meaning king Charles the eight) H vvhich shee esteemed should bee sent of God: but that by his acts it appeared, that he vvas reproved and abandoned of Fortune, and that now there vvas no other hope to be delivered from their miserie, but in that illustrious house of Medicis, vvhich might vvell enterprise to make it selfe cheefe of that redemption, vvith the Churches helpe, vvherupon she ruled, (meaning of Pope Leo x.) with the aid also of his owne vertue and his owne fortune, favoured of God. And that the magnificent Lawrence might vvell bring it to passe, in proposing to I himselfe for imitation the examples of Caesar Bourgia and Agathocles: And that Italie delights in nothing so much as novelties, and the Ita­lians surpasse other nations in force, agilitie of bodie and spirit. True it is (saith he) that vvhen it commeth to battailes, they vvill never ap­peare, but men must lay the fault thereof upon the cowardise and lit­tle heart of their captaines, because they that have knowledge, vvill not willingly obey, and every man presumeth to know much. He she­weth moreover, That the magnificent Lawrence had good occasion to enterprise the taking of Italie, to deliver it from the slavish servi­tude, K wherein it is, and that enterprise should be founded upon good iustice, because that vvarre cannot faile to be esteemed iust, vvhich is necessarie, and all armes are good and reasonable, when men have no hope otherwhere, but by them.

[Page 145] THis Maxime of Machiavell, is a true meanes to sow both civile & A strange warres all over the world: For if princes had this persuasi­on, that it were lawfull for them to assaile any other prince, under the pretext and shew, that hee handled not well his subjects; prin­ces should never want occasions to warre one against another. And therefore to say, that the magnificent Laurence de Medicis, had just occasion to get Italie, to deliver it from the evill handling of the potentates thereof, which there dominiered and ruled, this in no sort could bee called a just cause of warr; but it rather may be called an evill against an evill, and tyrannie against tyran­nie, because they de Medicis cannot say, that they have any right or title unto Italie. B But if wee consider what tyrannie is, as the elders have spoken thereof, we shall find, that not onely men in old time called such princes tyrants, which handled evill and rudely their subjects, as Caligula, Nero, Commodus, & other like; but also such as hand­led well and kindlie their subjects, when without title they usurped domination upon them, as Iulius Cesar, Hieron of Siracuse, the governours which the Lacedaemonians set over Athens, and other like. And therefore a prince which hath no title over a countrey, cannot lawfully invade it to get dominion there, but by tyrannie, whatsoe­ver good intent he surmise or have, to use the inhabitants friendly when he hath con­quered it: yet he may well aide another prince, having lawfull title to oppose against a tyrannie: because that is a common dutie, whereby all good princes are obliged to C help all such as by title and legitimate cause, doe oppose themselves to resist a tyran­nie. But if a prince goe about to usurpe another countrie (after the counsell of Ma­cbiavell, without lawfull title under a vaile, to deliver that countrey from tyrannie) this cannot bee well and justlie done, unles a man will say, that one tyrant may justlie expulse an other tyrant.

The Romanes have many times by example, shewed this to bee true, and never Titus Liviu [...] lib. 7. Dec. 1 would they deale in warre against any man without just title. The Samnites (which were a mightie people, made one warre against the Campani neighbours unto the Romanes, which sent to Rome to demand succours. They shewed, that they were the None may move warre without just title and cause. Romanes neighbours, and that it well became the Romane generositie and vertue to succour their neighbours, seeing also that by marriages there were infinit alliances betwixt the Romanes and the Campanians; and the Romanes might alwaies draw great commodities and profits from Campania, which was a fertill and plentifull countrie. But they could never obtaine other thing, at the Romane Senates hand for these allegations, but that the Senate sent embassadours to the Samnites, to pray them to cease making warre upon the Campanians, the Romanes neighbours: Then the Campanians deputies said: ‘Well (my masters) seeing you will not now de­fend us, against an unjust & tyrannous invasion, yet at the least defend that which is your owne, for wee yeeld and give our selves to you, yea us and all that is ours:’ Then the Senate, taking title and foundation of this dedition, enterprised the defence of E the Campanians, which otherwise without title they would never have enterprised.

And truely the saying of the emperour Martian, is very memorable and deser­veth good observation, That a prince ought never to move warre, whilest hee could Pomp. Laetus in Martian. maintaine peace: as if he would say, That Armes ought not to bee employed by a prince, but in the defence of his countrey, and not to assaile another. And indeed, a man had need looke about him more than once before hee moove warre, and well [Page 146] consider and examine, if therein there bee just cause, or no: for warres are easie to F commence (as M. Comines sayth) but very uneasie to appease and finish. And upon this we reade, That in the Senate of Rome there was once a very notable disputati­on betweene Cato (one esteemed the wisest of Rome) and Scipio Nasica (who was re­puted the best man of Rome.) The matter was this: After the first Punicke warre, the Romanes made peace with the Carthaginians, by which peace was accorded, That the Carthaginians might not rig any ship of warre, nor moove warre against the Romanes or their allies. It came to passe a certaine time after this peace, that the Carthaginians gathered together many ships: which being reported at Rome, and the matter propounded in counsell in the Senate, Cato and many others reasoned, That warre should be made upon the Carthaginians, because they had gone from the treatie of peace, and that warre might justly be offered unto them, as breakers of G peace. But Scipio Nasica was of a contrarie opinion, That there was yet no sufficient cause to make warre: for although the Carthaginians had gone against the peace, and violated their faith and promise; yet the Romanes received no offence or da­mage as yet: and therefore he was of advice, That the Carthaginians should bee summoned to lay downe their armes, and untackle their ships, and observe peace, even in the articles which they had broken. The pluralitie of voices were of Nasica his opinion, and accordingly, men were sent to Carthage to summon them to ob­temperate and obey the treatie of peace, and to repaire contraventions. They would doe nothing therein, but prepared themselves more to set upon Massinissa their allie H and friend. Then (this comming to counsell in the Senate) all agreed, That then there was just cause to move warre against the Carthaginians, seeing they had alrea­die begun to practise the same against Massinissa, their allie and friend: but there al­so were diverse opinions, whether they should altogether ruinate from the top to the bottome the towne of Carthage, after they had taken it, or to let it still remaine a towne. Cato was of opinion, totally to ruinate and destroy it; because it could not be kept in any fidelitie, but would breake her faith and promise at the first occasion that offered it selfe. Nasica was of a contrarie advice, saying, It was good that Rome had alwayes an enemie, upon whom to make warre, that the Romane people might not be corrupt, and become cowards by too great peace and prosperitie, for want upon I whom to make warre. The resolution of the Senat was in a meane betwixt these two opinions. For it was ordained, That the Carthaginians should be permitted to re­move their towne into any other part tenne mile from the sea. But the Carthagini­ans found so strange the removing of their towne, that they had rather suffer all ex­treame things: insomuch, as by long warre they were wholly vanquished, and their towne altogether rased and made inhabitable.

Very memorable also to this purpose is the advice of the Chancellor de Roche­fort, Annales up­on the year 1488. who was in the time of king Charles the eight. For many counselling this yong king to make war against Francis, duke of Bretaigne, to lay hold of his dutchie: this good Chancellor shewed, That the rights the king pretended to that duke, were not K yet well verified, and that it were good to seeke further into them, before warre was attempted; for it should be the worke of a tyrant to usurpe countries, which belong not to him. According to this advice, embassadors were sent to the duke, who then was at Reves, to send on his side, men of counsell, and the king would doe so on his side, to resolve upon both their rights. This was done, and men assembled to that end: but in the meane while duke Francis died, and the king espoused Ma­dame [Page 147] Anne, his daughter and heire, and so the controversie ended. A

The same king enterprising his voyage of Naples, caused to assemble all his pre­sidents Annal. upon Anno 149 [...]. of his courts of Parliaments, with his Chancellor, his privie Counsell, and the princes of his blood, to resolve upon his title and right to Naples and Sicilie. These lords being assembled, visited the genealogie and discent of the kings of Si­cilie and Naples, & they found, that the king was the right heire of these kingdomes: so that upon that resolution this voyage was enterprised. Hereby is seene the vanitie of Machiavell, who presupposeth, That king Charles had enterprised that voiage to get all Italie, but that Fortune was not favourable unto him: for that was never his deseigne nor purpose; neither assayed he to seize upon any thing in Italie, but of certaine townes necessarie for his passage, in determination to yeeld them up again B at his departure, as he did. And if the king would have enterprised upon Italie, hee had had a farre more apparent title, than the magnificent Lawrence de Medicis, see­ing all Italie was once by just title possessed by Charlemaine, king of France his pre­decessor. But this hath been alwayes a propertie in our kings, not to run over others grounds, nor to appropriate to themselves any seignorie, which appertained not un­to them by just title.

We reade also of Charles the fift, called the Sage, That being incited by his no­bilitie Frois. lib. 1. cap. 245. 25. and people of Guienne, to seize againe, that countrey, which was occupied by the English: he would not enterprise it without great & good deliberation of good Counsell. And therefore he caused well to be viewed by wise and experienced peo­ple, C the treatie of peace made at Bretaigne, betwixt his dead father and the king of England; for that it was told him, that the king of England had not accomplished on his side, that which he was bound to doe. After they had (as they thought) well re­solved him of this point, yet he was not content to be satisfied himselfe, but would, that his subjects should be also well resolved thereof, and especially such as were un­der the English obedience: and to that purpose hee sent preachers covertly into such good townes as were occupied by the English; insomuch, that readily by the preachers inducements there were more than threescore townes and fortresses, which revolted from the Englishmen, and offered themselves unto the kings obeisance. D

This then is a resolved point, That a prince ought not to enterprise to obtaine a If by warre any can be constrained to be of any Religion. countrey, where hee hath no title under colour to deliver the inhabitants thereof from tyrannie. But here may arise a question, if it be lawfull for a prince to make war for religion, and to constraine men to bee of his religion? hereupon to take the thing by reason, the resolution is very easie: For seeing that all religion consisteth in an approbation of certaine points that concerne the service of God, certaine it is, that such an approbation dependeth upon the persuasion which is given to men thereof: but the meanes to persuade a thing to any man, is not to take weapons, to bear him, nor to menace him, but to demonstrate unto him by good reasons and al­legations, which may induce him to a persuasion. But he that will decide this questi­on E by examples of our auncestors, he shall find divers to be for and against. For to reade our French hystories in the lives of Clowis the first, Charlemaine, and some o­ther kings of Fraunce, it seemeth that their studie was altogether bent upon warre Annales up­on Anno 718. against Paynims, for nothing, but to make them become Christians, with hand­blowes and force of armes. But what Christians? That is when the Paynims were vanquished, and that they could no more resist, they were acquited upon condition [Page 148] to be baptized without other instruction. And most commonly, as soone as they F could againe gather strength, they returned to their Paynim religion. And this is well shewed us by the hystorie of one Rabbod, duke of Fricse, who being upon the point to be baptized, and his clothes off, and having one foot in the font, hee de­manded of the archbishop of Sens, which should have baptized him, Whether there were more of his parents in hell or in paradice? The archbishop aunswered him, that the most must needs be in hell, because his predecessors were never bapti­zed. Then the duke drawing his foot out of the water: Well, said he then, I will goe to hell with my parents and friends, and I will not be baptized, to be seperated from them, & so he withdrew himselfe, denying to be baptized. Here I leave you to thinke if this man were well instructed in the Christian doctrine. It seemeth, that at that G day, to be a Christian, it sufficed to be baptized, and commonly Paynims were bap­tized by force of armes.

We reade also, That our auncient kings of Fraunce made many voyages into Turkie and into Affrica for the augmentation of the Christian Religion, and to re­venge (as they said) the death of our Lord Iesus Christ upon the Paynims and Infi­dels. But one time the Paynims themselves shewed them well, that they enterprised such warres by an inconsiderate zeale. For the armie of Fraunce (whereof the duke of Bourbon was cheefe) being in Affrica, making warre against the Infidels, in the time of king Charles the sixt, the captaine generall of the Turkes and Saracens sent an herauld to the duke of Bourbon, to know wherefore he discended into Affrica to H make warre upon them. The duke of Bourbon assembled the greatest lords of the armie to resolve what answer to make to the herauld. After, by the advice of all, it was answered, That they Christians made warre upon them, to revenge the death of Christ the sonne of God, and a true Prophet, which their generation had put to death and crucified. The Turkes understanding this answere, sent againe to the duke of Bourbon, and the lords of France, that they had by some received evill informa­tion upon that matter, for they were the Iewes which crucified Iesus Christ, and not their predecessors: and if the children must needs suffer for their auncestors faults, they should then take the Iewes, which were then amongst them, and upon them re­venge the death of their Iesus Christ. Our Frenchmen knew not what to answere I hereunto, yet they continued the warre, where was done no notable exploit, but by contagion of the aire they were constrained to returne, after they had lost the most part of their armie.

Likewise, in the yeare 1453 the Pope having proclaimed a Croisado in Christen­dome, to run over Turkie, to avenge the death of our Lord Iesus Christ, and to con­straine the Turkes to be christened: the Turke writ letters unto him; wherein he sig­nified, that they were the Iewes which crucified Christ. And as for him, hee descen­ded not of the Iewes, but of the Trojans blood, whereof hee understood the Itali­ans were likewise descended. And that their dutie were rather, both one of us, and the other to restore rather the great Troy, and to revenge the death of Hector their K auncestor, against the Grecians, than to make warre one upon another, as for his part he was readie to doe, having alreadie subjugated the most part of Greece. And that he beleeved, that Iesus Christ was a great Prophet, but that he never comman­ded (as he was given to understand) that men should beleeve in his law by force and by armes: as also on his part, he so constrained no man to beleeve in the law of Ma­homet. Behold the substance of the Turkes letter to the Pope, which seemed to bee [Page 149] as wel, yea, better founded upon reasons than the Popes buls. For verily Iesus Christ A would, that by preaching, his law should be received into the world, and not by force of armes.

In the time when Christendome was devided into Clementines and Vrbanists, by reason of a schisme of Popes, we may well presuppose, that the one thought the Froisar. lib. 2 cap. 132. 133 lib. 3. cap 24. other to be altogether out of the way of salvation: and our hystorians say, That the one part called the other dogs, miscreants, infidels, &c. Their reason was, because they said, that as there was but one God in heaven, so there ought to bee but one on earth: and the aforesaid Clementines held assuredly, That Pope Clement was the true god on earth, and Pope Vrbane the false god, and that the Vrbanists beleeved in a false god, and by consequent that they all strayed from the faith. For as no reli­gion B can stand without beleeving in God, so esteemed they, that they which belee­ved not in the true earthly god, were altogether without all religion, as dogs & mis­creants: & our hystoriographers, which held that opinion as well as the other, said, That from that time the faith was shaken and readie to fall to the ground. The same opinion had the Vrbanists of the Clementines, as the Clementines had of the Vr­banists. We have before in another place, said, That under colour of this diversitie in religion, the king of England, who was an Vrbanist, enterprised to make warre up­on the kings of France and Castile, Clementines. Likewise also the Clementines enterprised no lesse against the Vrbanists, yea, against the Pope Vrbane himselfe, whom they besieged in the towne of Peronse, where he was in great danger to have C been taken, yet in the end he saved himselfe at Rome. The king of Fraunce determi­ned to have passed into Italie, by warre to have destroyed the Vrbanists; but in the end he tooke another resolution, which was to cause the schisme to cease: so he cau­sed to convocate a great and notable assembly in the towne of Rhemes in Cam­paigne, whither in person resorted the emperour Sigismund, and there a conclusion was made to exhort the two Popes to submit themselves to the new election of a Pope, wherein their right should bee conserved unto them: and if they would not submit themselves thereunto, that the Christian princes and their subjects should withdraw themselves from the obedience both of the one and the other. After this subtraction was made (because the said Popes would not obey the exhortation that D was made) there was a new election of a Pope (in a Counsell held at Pise by the em­perors and the kings authorities) called Pope Alexander the fift, a Frier minor, and the other two Antipopes were cursed, as is said in another place. And thus ceased the warres for Religion in all Christendome.

To this purpose also you must know, That during the said schisme of the Cle­mentines Froisar. lib. 4 cap. 33. and Vrbanists, the duke of Bretaigne had peace with the king of Fraunce, and a great assembly was made betwixt them in the towne of Tours. The duke ap­pearing there, some of the kings Counsell shewed him, that hee was disobedient to the king, being of another religion than the king was (for the king was a Clemen­tine, and the duke an Vrbanist) and it was not meet that the vassale should be of a­nother E religion than his soveraigne lord. The abovesaid duke aunswered wisely, That it could not bee called a rebellion or disobedience: for no man ought to judge of his conscience, but only God, who is the soveraigne and only judge of such a matter, and that he beleeved in Pope Vrban, because his election was before Pope Clements. Some of the kings Counsell, of the meanest sort, made a great matter of this diversitie of religion: but the dukes of Berry and Bourgoigne, the kings un­cles, [Page 150] were opinioned, that it was not a sufficient point to stand upon, to put by, an F accord with the duke of Bretaigne: insomuch, that following their advice, an ac­cord was concluded, yea, a mariage of one of the kings daughters with the said duke of Bretaigne.

This example and advice of these two good dukes, mee thinkes all Christian princes should follow, and not cease to agree together for diversitie of Religion, but to remit the judgement thereof unto God, who alone can compound and agree the differences of the same. And not onely amongst princes the bond of amitie ought not to bee broken, for difference of Religion: but also princes ought not to use armes against their subjects, to force them unto a Religion, but they ought to assay all other meanes, to demonstrate unto them by lively reasons their errors, and G so bring them to a good way: and if it appeare not that their subjects doe erre and stray, they ought to maintaine them, and not persecute them, at the instigation of flatterers and envious people. An example hereof is memorable of king Lewis the twelfth, who was called the Father of the people. For in his time certaine Cardinals and Prelates persuaded him to exterminate and utterly to root out all the people of Cabriers and Merindol in Provence (which were the reliques of the Christians, cal­led Albi, then sore persecuted for Christ) telling him, That they were sorcerers, in­cestuous Molinaeus de la Monar­chia de [...] Francois. Anno. 155. persons, and heretickes. They of Merindol and Cabriers having some sente of the aforesaid accusation, sent certaine of their wisest men to remonstrate to the king their justice and innocencie. As soone as these men were arrived at the H Court, the said Cardinals and Prelates did what they could to hinder, that they should not be heard, and indeed told the king, that he ought not to heare them, be­cause the Cannon law holds, That men ought not to give audience to heretickes, nor communicate with them. The king replied, That if he had to make warre upon the Turke, yea, against the divell himselfe, he would heare them. This was an answere worthie of a king. For seeing kings hold in their hands the scepter of justice, this is not to use, but to abuse, To condemne any, & not to heare them. The said king Lewis then hearing the said messengers of Cabriers and Merindol, they shewed him in all humilitie, that their people received the Gospell, the Bible, & the Apostles Creed, the commaundements of God, and the Sacraments, but they beleeved not in the I Pope nor in his doctrine: and that if it pleased his Majestie to send to enquire of the truth of their speeches, they were contented all to die, if their words were not found true. This good king would needs know if it were so, and indeed deputed M. Adam Fumee, his master of Requests, and one M. Parvi, a Iacobin, his Confessor, to go to Cabriers and Merindol, to enquire of the life and religion of the inhabitants in those places; which they did: and after they had seene and knowne all, they made their report unto the king, That in those places their children were baptized, they taught them the articles of the Faith, and the commandements of God; that they well observed their Sabboths, alwayes preaching thereon the word of God: and as for sorceries and whoredomes, there were none amongst them: moreover, they K found no images in their temples, nor ornaments of the Masse. The king having re­ceived this report, what judgement gave he of it? did hee condemne them straight, because they had no images nor ornaments of the Masse? No, he presently swearing by his oth, pronounced, That they were better men than he or all his people. Here may princes learne how to use themselves, in supporting against slanderers, such, in whom there is no appearance of error.

[Page 151] But leaving this question, and againe taking our purpose: certaine it is, That a A prince ought not lightly to attempt warre (as Machiavell persuadeth) and upon A prince ought to seeke all meanes to put out war by a peace. some necessitie, having warre in hand, he ought to search out and accept all honest conditions to get out of it. For sometimes the prince which refuseth honest and reasonable conditions, upon hope that his forces are great, falleth oftentimes into great distresse: and it hath been many times seene, that pettie captaines have made head against great and strong powers of mightie princes.

In the time of the battaile of Poictiers, where king Iohn was taken, the prince of Wales before the battaile, offered the king to yeeld him all that both hee and his Froisar. lib. 1 cap 161. Annales upon Anno 1356 Annales upon Anno 1433. people, had conquered since his departure from Bourdeaux, & also to yeeld him all the pillage: but the king would not accept this offer, but withall asked, that the prince B and foure of the greatest lords of the armie, should yeeld themselves at his will. The prince (who was generous) chose rather to fight it out, than to accept so shamefull and dishonorable an accord; so hee and his army fought valiantly, insomuch that a very little numbar of English, overcame great forces of the French, and the king was taken, and many other great princes and lords, for which to redeeme, the kingdome was so emptied of silver, that they were compelled to make money of leather, which in the middest had onely a note of siluer: and from this battaile proceeded infinite evils, miseries, and calamities, which had not happened if the king had beene so well advised, as to have forgone that war by soft and assured meanes, rather than by the hazard of the battaile. But contrary to king Iohn, king Charles the seaventh, recon­quering C Guienne and Normandie upon the English, never refused any proffer or composition, sought alwaies to recover that which his predecessors had justly lost, without effusion of bloud.

The Romane hystories are ful of such like examples: For that which overthrew the Carthaginians, the king Perseus, the king Mithridates; that which abated the pride of Philip king of Macedon, of that great king Antiochus, and of many others, was, they could never accept the good and reasonable conditions, of peace which was offered unto them by the Romanes, but would rather experiment, what force, foun­ded upon a good right could doe; I say founded upon good right, because a small force which hath right with it, oftentimes abateth a great force, which is not foun­ded D on a good right: the reason is evident, because, hee that knoweth hee hath just cause to make warre, and which seeth that his adversary, trusting much in his forces, will not come to any reasonable composition, redoubleth his courage, his heat, and fighteth more valiantlie, than hee which is driven thereunto, rather upon pride than of any generositie of heart; but the principall reason thereof is, that God who giveth victories, inclineth most often to the rights side, and although sometimes it seemes that the wrong carrieth away the victorie, yet alwaies God shewes by the end & issue, (according to which we must judge) that hee is fot the right.

Above all, the prince ought to appease the warres in his owne countrey, whether A prince ought to appease war in his owne countrey. they be raised by strangers, or by his owne subjects, for, as for such warres, as he may have in a strange land, against strangers it may happen they will not prove so evill, E but hee may provide good souldiers in his neede: and especiallie this point is consi­derable, when a princes subjects are naturallie enclined to warre (as is the French nation) for then necessarily, they must bee emploied in that wherein is their naturall disposition, or els they will move war against themselves, as Salust saith in these words, If (saith hee) the vertue and generositie of princes, captaines, and men of warre, [Page 152] might so well be emploied, and shew it selfe of such estimate in peace as in warre, hu­mane F things would carry themselves more constantly, and men should not see such changes of one estate into another, nor all thing mixed in a confusion as wee see. Therefore a strange warre in a strange country, seemeth not to be very damageable, but something necessary, to occupie and exercise his subjects, but domesticke and civill wars, must needes be shunned and extinguished with all our power, for they be things against the right of nature, to make war against the people of their countrey, as he that doth it against his owne entrails: Therefore saith Homer:

Right wicked are those men which love not parents deare.
Sottish no lesse are they which familie doth hate:
Iliad. 9.
G
But most ungodly they their countrie which doth feare,
With civile warres: so direfull to a quiet state.

The prince also ought to consider, that by civile warres, he more weakeneth him­selfe and his subjects in one yeere, than by a strange warre he can do in thirtie yeeres: civile warres also are without comparison, more ruinous and dangerous than strange warres are.

To this purpose is there in Titus Livius, a notable oration made by the Romane deputies, unto Marcius Coriolanus, which was vnjustly banished from Rome, and Lib. 2. Dec. 1 Dionis. Ha­lic. lib. S. who yeelded himselfe to the Volsques, enemies of the Romanes, & was elected cap­taine H of the Volsques, to make warre upon his country: for as he laied siege to Rome, there were sent to him in ambassage, five great Romane lords, whereof some were his parents, and all his friends, the one of which, called Marcus Minutius spoke thus for them all: ‘Wee are not ignorant deere lord and friend, that great wrong hath beene done unto you at Rome, to banish and drive you from your countrey, for which you have done so much, and so many times, so well fought for it, that you may bee ac­compted as a second father or founder: we know well also that by good right, you are greived and despited against us, for so unjust a judgement, and wrong as is done you. For naturallie hee that is injured, is watchfull against him that injureth him; yet wee cease not to mervaile, that with reason you discerne not them, upon whom you may I justly take revenge, from them which have done you no evill nor outrage, but you indifferently repute for enimies, as much the culpable as the innocent, your friends as them that hate you: which doing, you violate the inviolable lawes of nature, you confound right and wrong, equitie and iniquitie, yea you forget your selfe so much as you make warre upon your selfe, in so doing upon your bloud. We which are your friends, and of the auncientest Patricians, are sent hither, by your countrey and ours, to complaine in her name, for that you violate naturall right, & to pray you to cease from this warre, and to hearken unto a good peace, offering to agree unto you, all that shall be to your honour and utilitie: We confesse that great wrong hath beene done you, in your banishment; but who hath done it unto you? The people (say you) K gave the voice for my condemnation. True it is wee can not deny it, but all the peo­ple is but one voice, although the most part were against you; they then which have given their voices for your absolution, doe they merit that you should make war up­on them, as heretikes? And we Senators, which have beene so sorrowful at your evill, ought you account us as your enemies? But women and children, what have they done unto you? must needes so many innocents fall into perill and danger to bee [Page 153] slaine, pilled and saccaged, that have done you no wrong, but rather favoured you. A If wee demand of you, wherefore you would rase and destroy our goodly buildings, framed by our ancestours, where are the statues and images of their victories and tri­umphs, and wherefore will you abolish their memories? what can you answere? assu­redly you can have no colour to doe this thing, unles you will say, that friends and enemies culpable, & innocents dead and living, ought equally to suffer vengeance, of the injurie was done you: a thing unmeet to bee done, yea to be thought on by a man that hath never so little reason, you should consider (deere lord and friend) the inconstancie of the affaires of this world, the mutabilitie of mens spirits, and to ex­cuse the misfortune which happeneth unto you, to our great greefe, and accept an honourable returne into your country, which desireth you; that for it you may con­tinue B to imploy your vertue, as you have done in times past, by this meanes shall you leave after you, a good and holie reputation of your vertue, to your posteritie; and if you doe otherwise, you shall leave after your death a remembrance, that you were an enemie, a saccager and ruiner of your poore countrey, where you were borne, and wher, you have beene tenderlie and honourably nourished: yet more there is that so long as you live, you shall bee an horror and execration to all the world, yea even to the Volsques, which are now your friends, yea all the world will flie your companie as a theefe or robber. We therefore pray you (deere lord and friend) that you will for­get the injurie, that you have unjustlie, received, and accept an happie, healthfull, & honourable returne into your countrie, into your house, where your poore mother C is, your deere wife, your friends, and deere children, which extreamely weepe and la­ment your absence, and especially since it was made knowne unto them, that you come with a strong hand, to put them to the edge of the sword, as well as others.’ After these ambassadors had thus spoken, there was yet sent to Coriolanus, Veturia, his mother, & Volumnia his wife, carrying in their armes his little children, accompa­nied with a great number of noble women. When Coriolanus see arive in his campe these embassadours, and after his mother and wife, houlding his little children in their armes, were fallen downe on their knees weeping, then nature forced, and burst that hard and obstinate courage of his, so that straight a peace was made, and hee ceased to warre upon his countrey. D

If wee know not what mischiefes and calamities, comes of civile warres, there might be many examples set down thereof, but alas we Frenchmen know too much thereof; and yet manie are enhardened to persever therein, and they cannot bow their hard courage to desist from ruinating, and warring against their mother and countrey. This Paynim Coriolanus, may make them ashamed, who did not persever in making war upon his countrey, although his courage were rude and full of ven­geance, but suffered himselfe to bee vanquished by reason: but they make warre in a contrary course, not making any accompt either of reason, love or pietie, that they ought all to have towards their countrie, parents and friends, letting loose the bri­dle to their passions and vengeances, bursting, ruinating, massacring, sleying, pilling E and destroying from top to bottome, their parents, friends, fellow-citizens & neigh­bours, and generally all our poore countrey, which our poore ancestours left us, so ritch and florishing. I know well, that every one layeth the fault upon his adversary, & that every one saith, that hee it is which fighteth for his countrey, which they of the contrary part will needes ruinate: but easie it is to judge (for him whose judgement is free of passion) who is in the wrong, for they who seekes not another mans, who [Page 154] demands but their owne, and that the kingdome bee reformed by their owne lawes, F and brought into her auncient splendour and renowne, can they bee called ene­mies of the countrey? Is there any thing in the world that is more ours than our soule, our conscience, and our lives? That is true (will some Messier say) you may have assurance of your lives, every one also may have libertie of his conscience, but to speake of reformation, is treason. Yea, but what assurance of life will be given us? even an assurance, that shall be under the safegard and protection of the first wicked man, which will conspire a massacre, who shall be invited to enterprise it by the im­punitie of former massacres. What libertie of conscience can we have, unlesse it be of Machiavels religion, that is to say, to be without religion, without pietie, without the power of a franke and free conscience to serve God? Call you it libertie of consci­ence G to be without religion, or without exercise of religion? nay, it is rather a very slavish servitude. But if it be treason to speake of reforming abuses and corruptions which are in the kingdome, it followeth, that they are guiltie of treason, which pro­cure and purchase the commonwealth, against which both reason and all lawes do pronounce. If therefore the world at this day esteeme enemies of their country, such as seeke nothing but the good thereof, and that they may have left them their soules, consciences, and lives? God and his veritie shall have the victorie, and cause them that come after us to judge otherwise.

Although the horrors and calamities of civile warres are sufficiently knowne in this time, yet will I breefely rehearse two most notable examples. The civile warre H which was in the Romane empire, betwixt Marius and Silla, was an horrible and fearefull butcherie, which filled Rome and all Italie with blood. For both of them were masters of Rome and all Italie, one after another; and so being, they did not cease all they could to kill and massacre one anothers friends and partakers: inso­much, that in a manner all men of qualitie and all good people were slain: for there was no notable man, but he held of the one or the other. Amongst other memo­rable things happening in this warre, this especially concerneth our cause in hand, which fell in the battaile that Pompeius the lieutenant of Silla, obtained a­gainst Florus. lib. 79 Cinna the partener of Marius: for one of Pompeius souldiers having stro­ken dead to the ground one of Cinna his souldiers, hee disarmed him, thinking to I spoile him of all he had, but then finding him to be his own brother, this poore sol­dier fell in a great rage, and almost to a madnesse, that he had so slaine his owne brother: yet straight he caused a great fire of wood to bee made, to turne his bro­thers bodie into ashes, after the manner of the Paynims then: and making great lamentations and sorrowfull exclamations, he laid his brothers bodie upon the wood, then he put fire unto it, and as soone as it was well kindled, he cast himselfe into the fire also, and was burned with his brothers bodie: insomuch, as death united the ashes of those two brethren, which the civile warres had disunited. But yet a farre worse and greater civile warre happened soone after betwixt Pompeius and Caesar, and it endured and continued all the time of the Triumvirate of Octa­vius, K Antonius, and Lepidus, against Cassius and Brutus, and ended betwixt An­tonius Flor. lib. 120. and Octavius. This warre endured two and thirtie yeares, and spread it selfe almost through all the world, which then was in subjection to the Romane Plutarch in Caesar. empire; yea, even the people of the East, West, North, and South, felt their greevous part of this civile warre. It was verefied, That in this unnaturall civile warre from the beginning, till the fourth Consulship of Caesar only, there died of the [Page 155] citizens of Rome, the number of one hundred and seventie thousand. And you A may very well beleeve, that many were after slaine; also, that tenne times as many died in so many provinces as belonged to the Romane empire: insomuch, as these detestable warres swallowed up many millions of men. But the Triumvirate of Octa­vius, Antonius, and Lepidus, was a most detestable union, which accorded to take unto them, all the governement of the commonweale, and to slay all their enemies. But because it often came to passe, that he which was friend of one of the three, was the others enemie, when one would have him slaine as an enemie, the other would lay hold of him to defend him as his friend; yet the abovesaid crueltie so surmounted all humanitie, and the desire of vengeance so vanquished all amitie, that these afore­said captains entred into this detestable complot, that they sold their friends one to another, B to have an enemie in exchange: as that wicked Anthonius to have Cicero his enemie (whom Octavius favoured as his friend) was content in exchange to de­liver his owne uncle by the mothers side, called Lucius Caesar, to Octavius his ene­mie; so that the one was exchanged for the other, and they both died. Can there possibly in the world bee conspired a more barbarous disloyaltie? Is it not a strange thing to heare, that a friend should be betraied to death, to have that cruell pleasure to slay his enemie? Yet by this course and complot died an hundred and thirtie Se­nators, besides many other persons of other qualitie. Antonius also the deviser of this barbarous exchange, received his due reward even by Octavius himselfe, whom hee had induced to commit such cruelties. For in the end they were enemies, and C Antonius being vanquished in the navall battaile at Actium, slew himselfe, so tur­ning upon and against himselfe that barbarous crueltie which hee had exercised a­gainst Cicero and others.

And it needs not seeme strange, if these civile warres of Rome endured so long time, as two and thirtie yeares: for the civile warres betwixt the houses of Burgoigne Monstr. lib. 1. ca. 79. 80, 81, 159, 191 & 198. and Orleance in France, endured threescore yeares, being continued from father to sonne for two generatious. And as for cruelties, me thinkes greater cannot be ima­gined, than them which the Parisians (the duke of Bourgoignes parteners) commit­ted within the towne of Paris. For they massacred the Constable and Chancellor of France, whom they drew and trayled through the towne most filthily, and murdered D also many other great Lords, Archbishops, Bishops, Prelates, and more than three thousand other persons, as well gentlemen as other notable people, which by force they drew out of prisons to murder and massacre them as they did. The captaine of the commons, which committed those barbarous inhumanities, was called Cappe­luche the executioner or hangman of Paris. Those comparteners of the house of Burgoigne, not contented to suscitate such popular commotions & stirs in France, but brought also the English men into Fraunce, which were like to have beene ma­sters therof: yet not herewith content, they caused king Charles the sixt to war against his owne son, who after was called Charles the seventh, and one moietie of the king­dome against another. And not to leave behind any kind of crueltie, no not towards E the dead, they caused to bee spread and published all over Fraunce, certaine Popes buls, wherby they indicted and excommunicated all the house of Orleance and his partakers both quicke and dead; insomuch, as when there died any in the hands of the parteners of Bourgoigne, either by ward, prison, or disease, they buried them not in the earth, but caused their bodies to be carried to dunghils, like carrion, to be de­voured of wolves and savage beasts. What could they have done more to the exe­cution [Page 156] of all barbarousnesse and crueltie? Behold what fruits civile warres doe F bring: wee see it even at this day with our eyes: for there is no kind of crueltie, barbarousnesse, impietie, and wickednesse, which civile warres have not brought into use.

The prince then that is wise, will leave nothing behind, to appease civile warres under his owne governement, but will spend all his care, power, and dilligence, to hinder it, after the example of that good and wise king Charles the seventh, & king Lewis the eleventh, his sonne. Charles the seventh being yet Daulphin (the duke Iohn Monstr. lib. 2. ca. 175. 180, 181, 182, 183 186, 187. of Bourgoigne, a man very ambitious and vindicative) after by secret practise hee had caused to be slaine Lewis duke of Orleance, the onely brother of king Charles the sixt, and after hee had filled the kingdome with warres both civile and strange, G contented not himselfe herewith, but laid hold of the king (who by a sickenesse was alienated of his wits) and of the queene, to make warre upon the Daulphin. These occasions seemed sufficient to such as then governed the Daulphin, and at last to the Daulphin himselfe (being yet very yong) to enterprise an hazardous blow. He then sent to the said duke, that hee would make a peace with him, and prayed him they might appoint a place and day together to meet for that purpose. The day was ap­pointed, & the place assigned at Montean-fant-Yonne, whither the said duke came under the trust of the word of the Daulphin his faith and assurance. As soone as hee arrived, making his reverence unto Monsieur le Daulphin, he was compassed in and straight slaine, and withall also certaine gentlemen of his traine. Philip sonne and H successor of this duke Iohn, tooke greatly to heart this most villanous death of his father, and sought all the meanes he could to be revenged, which still continued the civile warres. This meane while the English did what they could in France, and con­quered Normandie, Paris, the most part of Picardie, and marched even unto Orle­ance, which they besieged. The abovesaid king Charles the sixt, died, so that Monsi­eur le Daulphin his son (who was called Charles the seventh) comming to the crown, and finding himselfe despoiled of the most part of his kingdome, insomuch, as in mockerie he was generally called the king of Bourges. This wise king well conside­red, That if civile warres endured, he was in the way to loose all, one peece after ano­ther: hee therefore laid all his care, power, and diligence, to obtaine a peace and an I accord with the duke of Bourgoigne. Therefore he sent in embassage unto him, his Constable, Chancellor, and others his cheefe Counsellors, to say, that he desired to have peace with him, and that he well acknowledged, that by wicked counsell he had caused his father duke Iohn to be slaine at Monterean, and that if he had been then as advised and resolute as hee was at that present, hee would never have committed such an act, nor have permitted it to have beene done, but hee was young, and evill counselled: and therefore in that regard hee offered to make him such amends and reparation thereof, as he should be contented therewith; yea, that he would demand pardon (althogh not in person) yet by his embassadors (which should have expresse charge thereof) and prayed him to forgive that fault in the name of our Lord Iesus K Christ, that betwixt them two there might be a good peace and love: for hee con­fessed to have done evill, being then a young man of little wit and lesse discretion, by bad counsell so to sley his father. And besides this, he offred to give him many great lands & seigniories, as the Countie de Masconnois, S. Iangon, the Counrie de Au­xerre, Barsur Seima, la Counte de Boloigne, Surmer, and divers other lands: & that during his life he would acquite him and his subjects of personall service, which he [Page 157] ought him as vassale of Fraunce, & yet made many other faire offers unto him. This A duke Philip seeing his soveraign prince thus humiliate himself to him, bowed his courage justly exasperated for his fathers death, & harkened unto peace, which was made at Arras, where there was held an assembly of the embassadors of all Christian prin­ces, of the counsell of Basil, & of the Pope; insomuch, as there were there above 4000 horses. All or the most part of those embassadors came thither for the good of the king and his kingdome, but there was not one there which found not the kings offers good and reasonable, as also did all the great princes & lords of the kingdome, & all the kings counsel: so that his majesties embassadors (which were the duke of Bourbon, the countie of Richemont, constable of France, the archbishop of Rhemes chancel­lor, the lord de Fayette, marshall & many other great lords) in a full assembly in the B king their masters name, demanded pardon of the duke of Burgoigne for his fathers death, confessing (as abovesaid) that the king their master had done evil, as one yong and of litle wit, following naughtie counsell, therfore they praied the duke to let passe away all his evill wil, & so to be in a good peace & love with the king their master. And the duke of Burgoign declared, that he pardoned the king for the honor & reverence of the death & passion of our Lord Iesus Christ, & for compassion of the poor people of the kingdome of France, & to obey the Counsels reasons, the Pope & other Chri­stian princes, which praied him. Moreover, besides the aforesaid things, it was accor­ded to the said duke, that justice & punishment should be done upon all such as [...]ed slain his father, & of such as had given the Daulphin counsell to cause his slaughter, C & that the king himself should make diligent search through all his realme to appre­hend them. Here may you see how king Charles 6 appeased the civile wars of his king­dome by humilitie and acknowledgement of his faults: and from thence forward he prospered so well, that after he had ended his civile wars, he also overcame his forrain wars against the English. And this came of God, who ordinarily exalteth the humble, & overthroweth the insolent & proud. For assuredly it doth not evill become a great prince to temperat his majestie by a gracious humility, softnes, & affabilitie: but (saith Plutarch) it is a very harmonious & consonant temperation, yea, so excellent, as there cannot be a more perfect than this. But if the said king had then had such Counselors as many kings now adaies have, what counsell would they hereupon have given him; D they would have said: That thus to humiliate himselfe to his vassall, as to ask him for­givenes, to confesse his fault, to acquitehim and his subjects of personall service, these were things unworthy of a king: and that a king ought never to make peace, unlesse it be to his honor, but such articles were to his dishonor and disadvantage, and that he ought to have endured all extremities, before he had made any peace, whereby he should not remain altogether master, to dispose of persons & goods at his pleasure. For how would not they say thus, seeing they say at this day, That it is no honorable peace for the king to accord his subjects any assurances with the exercises of their re­ligion, & a reformation of justice: yet you see, that all K. Charles 7 his Counsell, all the princes of his blood, all the great lords of his kingdome, all strange princes embassa­dors, E compelled the K. to passe more hard & uneasie articles to digest, for the good of peace. Should we say, that in so great a number of great personages, ther was not any so wise and cleare sighted as the counsellors at this day & as these Mesiers Machiave­lists: nay contrary, they were al wise men & of great experience in wordly affairs, they were also of great knowlege, as the delegates of the counsel of the universitie of Paris, & of the parliaments, wheras at this day, men know litle more than their Machiavell.

[Page 158] Likewise king Lewis the eleventh, as soone as hee came to the crowne, removed F De Com. lib. 1. cap. 3. 5. & others. from charges and offices, many great lords, and good servants, of the dead king Charles the seventh his father, which had vertuously emploied themselves, in chasing the English out of the kingdome of France; and in lieu of such persons, he placed and advanced men of meane and base condition. Heereupon straight arose civile discention against the king, (which was called the warres of the common weale) and these men complained, that the kingdome was not politikelie governed, because the king had put from him good men, and of high calling, to advance such as were of small estimation, and of no vertue. It was not long before the king acknowledged his great fault, and confessed it, not onely in generall, but also in particular to every of them, which he had recoyled and disapointed: and to repaire this fault, he got againe to him all the said lords, and ancient servants of the dead king his father, delivering G them againe their estates, or much greater: and in somme, he granted to these com­mon wealth people, all that they demanded, as well for the generall as for the parti­cular good of all people, and all to obtaine peace, with extinguishment of civile wars. If he had had of his Counsell the Machiavellists of these daies, they would not have counselled him thus to doe; but rather would have told him; That it became not a king to capitulate with his subjects, nor so to unable himselfe unto them, and, that a prince ought never to trust to such as once were his enemies, but much lesse ought hee to advance them to estates, and that hee should diligentlie take heede of a re­conciled enemie: yet notwithstanding hee did all this, and it fell out well with him, H for he was very well served, of the pretended reconciled enemies: and to this purpose Messier de Commines his chamberlaine, saith; That his humilitie, and the acknow­ledgment of his faults, saved his kingdome, which was in great danger to bee lost, if hee had stayed upon such impertinent and foolish reasons, as those Machiavelists alledge: for all things may not bee judged by the finall cause. What dishonour then can it bee to a prince, to use pettie and base meanes, if so bee thereby hee make his countrey peaceable, his estate assured, and his subjects contented and obedient? what makes it matter, for him that is to ascend into an high place, whether he mount by degrees and staires of wood, or of stone, so that hee ascend.

But this is not all, to say; That a prince ought to bee vigilant and carefull to make I peace in his countrey, for hee must after it is made, well observe it, otherwise it is to Peace ought to be well ob­served. no purpose made; unles men will say, that one ought to make peace, for (after in breaking it) to trap and ensnare them which trust therein. But they which hold this opinion, are people which make no account of the observation of faith, as are the Machiavelists, of whom wee will speake upon this point, in another Maxime. But in­deede, that a peace may bee well observed, it must bee profitable and commodious to them with whom it is made, to the ende by that meanes it may bee agreeable un­to them, and that they may observe it with a good will, and without constraint: for if it be domageable and disadvantageous, making the condition of them, to whom it is given, worse than of other subjects and neighbours? certaine it is, it cannot long K endure: for people that have either heart or spirit in them, cannot long endure to be handled like slaves.

Heereunto serveth the advice of that noble and sage companie, of the ancient Senators of Rome. There was a neighbour unto the Romanes, which were called the Titus Livi. lib. 8. Dec. 1. Privernates, upon which the Romanes made warre, and many times vanquished them. They seeing it was impossible any more to make head against the Romane [Page 159] forces, sent embassadors to Rome for peace: they were caused to enter into the place, A where the Senate did sit and because they had not well observed the precedent treatie of peace, some Senators seemed hard to draw to give their cause any hear­ing, thinking it a vaine thing, to accord a peace unto such as would not keepe any: notwithstanding, some demanded of those embassadors, what punishment they judged themselves to haue merited, which had so often broken the precedent peace. One of them speaking for all, and remembring rather the condition of their birth, than of their present estate, answered; That the Privernates merited the punishment, that they deserve, which esteeme themselves worthie of a free condition, and which have a slavish condition. This answere seemed to some Senators, too hautie and un­beseeming vanquished people, yet the president of the assembly (who was a wise B man) benignly demanded of them, if they were pardoned the invasion of the former peaces, and if now they had a new peace granted them, how they would observe it? The same embassador, with such like hautinesse of heart as before, If said he, yee will give us a good peace, wee will faithfully and perpetually observe it, but if you give us an evill peace, it will not hold long. Some of the Senators disdained and disliked this answere, saying they spoke too proudly, and as it were already to threaten a re­voult, and that it did not beseeme vanquished people, to carry such high mindes: but the wisest and discreetest part of the Senat, thought not this answere evill or imperti­nent, but that this embassador spake like a franke and free man, and that men should not finde it strange, if every man detained in servage, would bee remitted into his na­turall C libertie, as soone as hee can, and hath meanes for his purpose, and therefore resolutely they conclude, That the Privernates must have such a peace, as to bee received Romane citizens, enjoying the same liberties and priveledges, that they of the towne of Rome did. This was performed, and very notable is the reason of their motive: ‘For, say they, there is the peace loyall and assured, where men doe willingly appease themselves, and a man neede not looke or hope for an assured peace, where men are brought to a slavish subjection.’

Heere is also to bee marked, the advice and opinion of Titus Livius dictator, which hee spake in a full Senat, upon that which the Latins demanded, that the trea­tie Dionisius Halic. lib. 6. of peace, that they had with the Romanes, might be confirmed unto them, which D notwithstanding they themselves had broken, in rebelling against the Romanes, and beeing vanquished; ‘Masters (said hee) my advice is, that wee ought to use kindlie and moderarelie, the victorie which wee have had against the Latins: for it is the most excellent praise that can come, either to publike or private persons, not to suffer themselves to be corrupted by prosperitie; but to know how to use that is good, with a modest and equall courage; because all prosperities are accompained with en­vy, yea although they come to oppresse the vanquished, that make no resistance. Moreover wee ought not, so much to trust in fortune, which is too inconstant and mutable (as wee have many times experimented) and therefore ought not to con­straine our adversaries to come to the last remedie, that is dispaire, which often ele­vateth the heart, yea and often the fortune: we have cause also to feare the evill grace E and disfavour, of such as wee would command, which should come to passe, if wee should alwaies shew our selves rude, and sharpe towards such as wee finde faulty. For our ancestors have not obtained the seigniory and domination, which they have left us by shewing themselves sharp & rigorous, but rather by appearing gentle, benigne and easie to pardon: moreover, wee must consider, that nature hath given all men, [Page 160] a desire of libertie, insomuch as the faults which men commit, being drawne on with F desire, are greatly to be excused, and he that would punish them, which desire a good thing, certainely it were the next way to overthrow all good order, and to bring in amongest men a confusion, to murther and sley one another. Finally (masters) wee must consider, that the best and most firme domination, is that, whereby subjects are more detained by good deeds in obedience, than that whereby they are contai­ned in their duties by punishments: for a good will and well liking accompanieth the one, and feare the other; but whatsoever is feared, is also naturally hated: we must also imitate our ancestors, which made themseves great in building of townes, not in ruinating them; in drawing their neighbours into their citie, not in slaying them. I therefore conclude, that wee ought to renew and reconfirme to the Latins, the G treatie of peace.’ This opinion of dictator Largius, was followed by Servius Sulpiti­us, who reasoned next after him, and generally by all the Senat, as full of all reason and equitie: and if at this day, men bee governed by reason, certaine it is that that opinion of Largius, should bee sufficient to shew to any prince, that to have a good and durable peace, hee ought to grant such a one, as men will willinglie observe, which will bee done, whan thereby shall bee accorded a reasonable liberty under a good assurance.

And as for assurances of peace, the elders in strange warres, were wont to use ho­stages, Assurances of peace. but the principall bonds there, was publike faith and oth, whereof wee shall speake in another place: as for civile warres, they had some other particular meanes H beside faith and othe; for they bestowed offices of charge, and publike estates, upon some of them, and the other party if not egallie, yer so justly, as they could to con­tent both the one and the others. This often happened at Rome, when the com­mons of the third Estate, beeing oppressed of the greatest and richest, for that cause there arose up some pupularie insurrection: For the common means they used to ap­pease such stirs, was almost ordinarily to receive them of the third Estate, to the con­sulship, or to be censor, priest or Praetor, or to other offices; insomuch as in the end all offices and Estates, were open to all sorts of people, without distinction of nobles, or basest trades, onely regarding their vertue & good reputation, which alwaies carried away the price; untill they which were rich, began to buy the voices of election. And I truly it seemeth, that when they of the one partie saw themselves recoyled from the estates & charges of the body of the commonwealth (wherof they are members) and that they are rebutted & estranged as suspected persons, that thereby they have just occasion to distrust themselves, as other men put no trust in them: And to this pur­pose, the answere of Brutus is well to be marked (for such as were of the third Estate in Rome) to the delegates and embassadours of the nobles and Patricians. Masters (saith hee) they of the third Estate in Rome, know well that you lords Patricians are indeede men of our word, and that for nothing you will contradict your promises, Dionisius Halic. lib. 6. as wee never knew you did; and that you will very well observe towards them, all that you promise, without any neede of other assurance, than your faith and othe: but K they doe farther consider, that after you which at this present doe governe, they which succeed will not observe that which you have promised: but will enterprice to handle the people tyrannously. And therefore there remaines but one sole assurance to the most weake, which feare them which are stronger than themselves; namely, to find meanes, that the strongest may not hurt them, when they would: for so long as there remaines any meanes to hurt, there will never want will in the wic­ked [Page 161] to execute. After that Brutus had uttered this speech to the embassadors, the A Senat found it was founded upon reason, and they accorded to the people of the third estate magistrates, which were called Tribunes of the people. These had the charge to defend the common people, against great men, with power to imprison all such, as seemed good unto them, and this magistrate proved very profitable, whilest they used it well, but as soone as they abused it, it fell out to bee very pernitious; so is it of all other offices.

To demonstrate, that men cannot keepe a peace, when thereby they are handled like slaves, the example of the Saguntines is very notable & admirable. The Sagun­tines Titus Livi. lib. 1. Dec. 3. a people of Spaine, were besieged by Anniball of Carthage, who held them so straightly in their city, that they had no meane left to escape or resist. They being re­duced B to this extremity, Anniball sent them word by one of his nation called Alorcus, to yeeld themselves to save their lives: For courages (said hee) must needes bee van­quished, when forces failed; and Anniball would save their lives, if they would yeeld to him, and of his grace would deale well with them. These poore people well considered the extreame danger wherein they were, and that they had no meane to escape Anniball his hands, but with yeelding unto him: and to yeeld they should change their free, into a servile condition, which they feared so much, as they loved better to lose their lives; therefore resolved so to deale, as neither their bodies nor their goods, should ever come into the power of Anniball. So they tooke choice of certaine young men of the towne, which they caused to sweare, to defend the gates C of the towne, even to the death; that in the meane while the other townes-peo­ple, might have leasure to execute their determination: after this the cheefe of the towne resorted to the common market place, and there caused to bee laid on a heape, all the goods and treasures of the towne, and about it to light a great fier, within which many cast themselves, and were burned, lest they should fall into An­niballs hands, others shut themselves up in their houses, with their wives and chil­dren, after putting fire thereunto, burnt the said houses, themselves, and their goods; and the said young men, which were trusted with the gates, made an end of fighting and living together. Was not heere (thinke you) an admirable love of libertie? for if they would but a while have lived under Anniball his yoake, there had beene D hope that the Romanes their allies, would have delivered them; but yet they rather tooke choice, to lose their lives, yea, & that by a most strange & cruell death, than to suffer for a small time, a servile subjection under Anniball.

But as it is rare and unlikely, that a servile peace should bee long and well obser­ved; so it is a very great fault, to breake a peace, when it is sufficiently commodious A tolerable peace ought not to be bro­ken. and tollerable. This was the onely cause, of the totall ruine, of that great & flourish­ing commonwealth of the Carthaginians: for after they had many times broken the treatie of peace, which they had with the Romanes, and had beene many times vanquished; in the end they were altogether destroyed, and their townes rased: and the cause that moved the Romanes thus to doe, was, for that they considered that the E Carthaginians would never observe faith, nor promise they made (which alreadie so many times they had violated, especially since they were not at any time, bound to any hard condition of peace, but onely hindered to rebell or waxe great. Titus livi. lib. 3. Dec. 4. and lib. 4. Dec. 5. & Plutarch in P. Aemil.

But the example of king Philip of Macedon, and of Perseus his sonne, is verie no­table in this matter. This king Philip, about some light occasion, enterprised warre against the Aetolians, a people of Greece the Romanes allies. The Aetolians called to [Page 162] their aid the Romanes, & sent an armie into Greece against Philip, under the charge F of captaine Sulpitius, as well to succour the Aetolians, as also the Athenians, which Philip would have destroyed, and lastly to revenge themselves of the king, who co­vertly had aided with silver, Anniball, to make warre upon them: after certaine con­flicts, this king fearing the forces, and vertue of the Romanes, did so much as hee wrought a peace with them: after that they had made this peace, hee observed it very well, all the rest of his life; and the better to keepe it from point to point, hee had or­dinarily in his hands, the articles of that peace, which hee ever read twise a day, that hee might not breake any point of it. When hee was dead, Perseus his sonne succee­ded him, unto whom a Macedonian gentleman, called Onesimus (a faithfull friend and councellor of his father Philip) gave this advice to have ever in his hands, and G often to reade the said treatise and articles of peace, that as his father had done, he might inviolablie observe them, as the onely meane to maintaine him in his estate. Perseus at the beginning did but despise the admonitions of that good seruant Onesimus, but in the end, hee had him in suspition, and put him out of credit, inso­much as the good person, fearing worse unto himselfe, fled to Rome; After this, Per­seus gathering great store of money, and esteeming himselfe strong enough to warre against the Romanes, by little and little, broke the articles of peace, one after ano­ther, altogether contrarying the contents of the articles, & in the mean time covertly prepared for warre: finally the Romanes sent against him the consull Paulus Aemi­lius, with a Roman armie, which in lesse than a month seised upon all Macedonia, and H brought it into the Romane obedience, and tooke prisoners, the king Perseus and his sonne, which hee carried to Rome in a triumph, where they miserably dyed in a pri­son: behold the evill haps of Perseus, for not imitating the example of his father, in the observation of the treatise of peace.

Verely the prince which well considereth the good that comes by living in peace, will alwaies seeke to maintaine it, but at the least within his owne domination, for in peace all things do flourish, and in warre all things are in ruine and devastation: we reade, that in the time of Antonius Pius, all the Romane empire was in good peace, and that by the same meanes all the provinces were rich and flourishing, not onely Capitol. in Antonio. Pio. Plinius in epist. ad Tra­ianum. in goods, but in vertues and sciences: for at that time, good letters flourished al over, I and especially the civile law, which was so well practised, and in all places so good justice administred, that the whole empire was a most excellent, and admirable thing at that time. Moreover, that good emperour tooke a great delight to fabricate and build great works, and common buildings, as the Amphitheater, which he builded at Nismes, where hee was borne (it is called at this day les Arenes) the temple of Adrian, his sepulcher, and another Amphitheater at Rome, and many other goodly houses and publike buildings most sumptuous to behold; he also caused to bee repaired, bridges, gates, waies, & to furnish many townes with store of money, as well to make new buildings in them, as to renew the old; heerein imitating the example of the emperour Trajan his predecessor, who immortalized his name by his publike works and buildings which hee made, even in building new townes, and ioyning rivers one K to another, or to the sea, by great and deepe channels, to aide and make easie the commerce of all countries; also in drying up great fennes and marrishes, and in laying plaine, rocks and mountaines, to make fit waies for travailers, and in doing other notable workes. Such actions as these, are meet workes for peaceable times, and are honourable, and proper to immortalize the name of a prince, as to make [Page 163] warre to have victories and triumphs. We see that the restauration of good letters, A which king Francis, the first of that name (of happie memorie) brought into France in his time, did more celebrate and make it immortall, in the memorie of all Christi­an nations, than all the great warres and victories, which his predecessors had. And truly, princes which love and advance letters, doe well merit, that learned people should send their honourable memorie to all posterity: and such as dispise them, and hold them under feete, are not worthie that hystoriographers, and men of learning, should bring their woords and victories into honour and reputation, much lesse to immortalize them in the memorie of men. For as lawyers say, that they ought not to enjoy the benefite of lawes, which offend and despise them; so the prince, which makes no account of learning, ought not to enjoy the benefit thereof, which is to B make immortall, generous, and vertuous men.

But if we make comparison of the magnificence, and Estate that a prince should Froisar. lib. 7 cap. 353. 4. hold in the time of peace and prosperitie, with that he should hold during war and povertie, there is such difference as betwixt the day and the night: for proofe hereof, I will alledge but the time of Philip de Valois. For wee reade, that in that time (which was a time of long peace) that king had almost ordinarie in his court, foure or five kings wich resided with him, in regard of his magnificence, as the king of Boheme, the king of Scotland, the king of Arragon, the king of Navarre, the king of Maior­que, & many great dukes, counties, barons, prelates, the greatest part of whose char­ges hee defraied, that it might appeare, that the king of Fraunce was a king of kings. It C is certaine, to maintaine this magnificall and great Estate, there must needs fol­low exceeding great expences: but hee might well doe it, for his people being ritch and full of peace, they had better meanes to furnish and provide, for him a crowne, than in the time of warre, to give him a three halfe pence. At that time a king of Eng­land, passed into France, to doe homage unto king Philip, for the dutchie of Guienne, which the English had long time held of the crowne of France: when the English king, saw the traine of the court of France, hee was ravished in admiration, to see so many kings, dukes, counties, barons, princes, peeres of France, constable, admirall, chancelor, marshall, and many other great lords, which reputed themselves happie to obtaine the good grace of king Philip. This moved the king of England far more D easily, and in other meanes to doe his homage, than he thought to have done; and at his returne into England, he said on high: That he supposed, there was neither king nor emperor in the world, that held so magnificent and triumphant an Estate, as the king of France did. Should not we desire to see such a time againe? but we are farre from it, and take no course thereunto: for civile warres cannot bring us unto it, but onely a good and holy peace, well and inviolably observed, by a good reformation of justice, and of all estates, which was corrupted in France: For without it the peo­ple can never prosper, but shall alwaies bee gnawne and eaten even to the bones, and the people beeing poore, the king cannot be ritch, no neither his nobilitie, nor cler­gie: for all the kings revenewes, all tallages, all the nobilities and clergies rents, pro­ceede E from the poore people.

By this which wee have above handled, this Maxime of warre is sufficiently un­derstoode, I will add no more therunto, but that Machiavell shewes himselfe a man of very good grace, when he saith, That the Italians are a people of nimble & light spirits and bodies; for hee cannot more properly note them of inconstancie and in­fidelitie; and when afterward he saith, That willingly they never go to battails, he can not [Page 164] they any better taxe them of cowardise and pusillanimitie? but the reason, wherby F he would seeme to couer this fault, is more to be accounted of, than the rest: For saith he, this proceedeth of the little heart & cowardise of the captaines; as if he said, That all Italian captaines, are faint hearted & cowards, which rather discourage than add heart unto their souldiers to fight. And heerein I beleeve, he saieth truth, for so ma­ny Italian captaines, as wee have seene in France this fifteene yeeres, there hath not been one found that hath done any one memorable exploit: they can indeede make many vaine and brave shewes, and in many subtile stratagems, there are found no better warriors; but in battailes and assaultes of townes, they never by their wills, will come, as their owne Machiavell beareth them witnesse.

2. Maxime. G

‘To cause a Prince to withdraw his mind altogether from peace and agree­ment H with his adversarie, he must commit and use some notable and out­ragious iniurie against him.’

BEcause (sayth Machiavell) men are naturally vindicative and de­sirous Discourse, lib. 3. cap. 32. to take vengeance of such as offend them, it consequent­ly fals out, that they vvhich have outraged or iniured any, but especi­ally if the iniurie be great, they can never trust him they have so iniu­red. For every man feares and distrusteth his reconciled enemie. And I therefore to find meanes, that a prince may never set his heart and mind upon peace, nor reconcile himselfe to any adversarie, hee must be persuaded to practise some outragious act upon his said adversa­rie. So by that meanes he will never trust him, nor be reconciled with him.

BEhold heere, the very counsell that Achitophel gave to Absalon, to make him irreconcilable with David his father, and to place a di­vision Samuel. lib. 2. cap. 26. and perdurable confusion in all his kingdome. For hee ad­vised K Absalon to cohabitate and dwell even with his father Da­vids wives, which was the greatest and most villanous injurie that he could have done unto him: and to this end he did it, that Absa­lon and all they which followed him, might bee utterlie out of hope to make peace with David, and by that meanes: playing upon the desperado, they might gather double courage, and make themselves possessors of the kingdome. For necessitie and [Page 165] dispaire make men hardie and valiant, but what was the issue thereof? even this, that A Achitophell, the author of this counsell, hanged and strangled himselfe, either with dis­paire or feare, that hee had, that David would have punished him: Absalon also soone after miserably perished, as a reward for his adherence and cleaving to so bad counsell.

The like happened to Tolumnius, king of the Veians, which had caused the Fide­nates to revolt from the Romanes: for as the Romanes had sent embassadors to the Titus Livi. lib. 4. Dec. 1. Fidenates, to know the reason of their revoltment, Tolumnius counselled them to slay (as indeed they did) the embassadors; to the end (saith Titus Livius) that the Fidenates might bee to him the more faithfull, and out of hope to bee reconciled with the Romanes, perceiving themselves guiltie of so strange a crime. So the Ro­manes B made warre upon the Fidenates, unto whose succour came Tolumnius, and as hee was in the battaile, Cornelius Cossus a Romane, espying him said, ‘Behold the breaker of humane leagues, the violator of peoples right,’ now shalt thou be sacrifi­ced, for the death of our embassadors: and couching his speare against Tolumnius, ranne at him, and carried him to the earth, where hee slew him, cut of his head, and shewed it, in the front of a number of the enemies, who as soone as they saw the kings head, turned their backes and fled.

The Capuans, after they had received many good turnes, and succours of the Romanes, against their enemies, even when they yet had in their towne a Romane Titus Livi. lib. 3. and 6. Dec. 3. garrison, enterprised to make their profit of the Romanes calamitie, received in the C journey of Cannes: for they seeing that by that journey Anniball, had much enfe­bled the Romane forces, revolted from them, and ioyned to Anniball: they also sent embassadors to Rome, to make the Senat understand, That if they would re­ceive the Capuans in the same degrees of equalitie, with the Romanes, in matters of goverment of the commonweale, by according, that from thence forward one of the consuls of Rome, should be a Capuan, and the other a Romane, that should be a good and an assured meane, for the towne of Rome, to bee succoured by the Ca­puans, against Anniball. The Romane Senators, perceiving the foolish and proude demand of these effeminate Capuans, which were no better warriors than common strumpets, yea so delicate and cowardly, with luxurie and lubricitie, vouchsafed not D to make them any answer, but caused them to be chased out of the Senat. These em­bassadours seeing themselves repulsed from their demaund, returned to Capua, and made report to the Senators of Capua, how they had sped in their embassage. Then these divellish Capuans (according to the guise and nature of all effeminate cowards, which are alwaies cruell for their owne advantage) enterprised in a conspira­tion to Anniball, to have massacred all the Romane garrison, which they had in their towne of Capua; and as they enterprised, so they executed it. The Romane garri­son beeing thus massacred, the Romanes incontinent sent to besiege Capua. Anni­ball not beeing able without his great perill, to leave the siege of Capua, besieged Rome, hoping thereby to draw their siege from Capua: but he was no sooner remo­ved, E but the Romans approched more nigh, & delivered an assault to the towne, and to enter in. Quintus Fulvius lieutenant generall of the Romane armie, caused a pro­clamation to bee made, in the hearing of the Capuans, whereby they made knowne to all the inhabitants of Capua, That all such of the towne, as would resort to his campe within certaine daies, should bee held inculpable, and not consenting to the revolt and massacre made by the Capuans: but none durst enterprise to trust this [Page 166] proclamation; not that they knew not well, (saith Titus Livius) that the Romanes F would hold their words, but because they had left no hope, to obtaine any pardon: yet the most part of the Senators of Capua, concluded to send embassadors to Rome to obtaine grace and pardon, having some hope in the clemencie and placabilitie, so many times proved in the Romane Senat: and indeede their embassadors obtai­ned letters of grace. But one Virius, the principall author of the said revoltment and massacre, was not of that opinion to have recourse, nor any hope in the Senat, jud­ging his crime to be so great, as it was impossible to obtain pardon: and therfore he and 27 other Senatours of Capua of his opinion, resolved thus to sley themselves. They caused a great banket to be prepared, furnished with viands and wine, the most exquisit that could be gotten: and there at their last banket they thought it good to G drinke, till their sences were taken from them; and for their last farwell they drunke every man a glasse of poyson, then embracing one another, they begun all to weepe and lament the ruine of them and their countrey, and to detest the wicked counsell they had taken, to use so outragious a part against the Romans, to take away all hope of peace and reconciliation: so having long wept and lamented, they fell dead up­on the earth one after another. Is not this a notable example, to detest that wicked counsell of Machiavell, to seeke meanes to be irreconcilable? Is there any prince in the world, unto whom a necessitie may not somtimes come to be reconciled with his inferior adversarie? And if reconciliation may alwayes come in good time and for good purpose, how durst this wicked Atheist lay downe this Maxime? Reconcilia­tion may alwais come in good time. H

Lucius Catilina (a man devoid of all vertue, and a bundle of all vice) resolving in his brain to practise a conspiration against his countrey (to assay either to be an ex­ceeding great man, or altogether nothing) drew to his league many Roman gentle­men, such like as himself▪ and considering, that he could not bring to effect his con­juration, without declaring and communicating it to the cheefetaines of his aid, and yet fearing that some of them would discover it; he thought good to make them all take a most execrable oth, that thereby might be foreclosed from them all hope Salust in Ca­tilin. of retiring from his side. So he caused wine to be mixed with humane blood in pots, and made all his companions drinke of it, and withall procured them to sweare with an execration, that they would never disclose the enterprise, he would tell them, but I employ themselves with al their power to execute it. After which oth made, his par­teners, as already culpable of humane blood (which they had already drunke) were so secret, that there had nothing ever ben discovered, if God had not permitted an har­lot, called Fulvia (being greeved, that Curius her ruffian, who was one of the conspi­rators, came not so often to lie with her, as hee accustomed) to draw certaine words out of his mouth, as she demanded of him where he laythe precedent nights. Which Curius being drunke, to enjoy his courtizan, discovered unto her, that the former nights he had been in a company, with whom he should make an enterprise, which would make him rich for ever. As soone as Fulvia knew all the conjuration, shee dis­covered it to the Consull Cicero. Cicero did what he could truly to open all the enter­prise: K but all the conspirators held so well their horrible oth, that not one of so great a number would ever reveale a word. But yet Cicero found meanes to know all, by the declaration which the Allobroges made, which Catiline had appointed to furnish him with people for the execution. But the end of Catiline was such, that he was slain fighting, with a great number of others, and the cheefe of his complices were exe­cuted by justice. Breefely, all they which have practised that wicked doctrine of Ma­chiavell, [Page 167] to commit outragious acts to bee irreconcilable, their ends and lives have A alwayes proved very tragaedies.

3. Maxime.

‘A Prince in a conquered countrey must place colonies and garrisons, B especially in the strongest places, to chase away the naturall and old inbabitants thereof.’

THe best remedie (saith M. Nicholas) to conserve a countrey or Cap. 3. of [...] Prince. a province newly conquered, is to erect colonies, placing strā ­gers there, and from thence banishing all the princes ancient and na­turall inhabitants: For by that meanes the prince should keepe that C countrey vvith a small charge, vvithout troubling the countrey vvith great garrisons, onely iniuring such as hee expulseth those places, to make roome for new inhabitants. And as for them vvhich are chased away, he need not feare them: for they vvill be but some small portion of the inhabitants of that province, vvhich remaining poore and exi­led, shall from thenceforth be little able to hurt: and as for such as shall be left in peace, it is likely that they vvill enterprise nothing, fea­ring by their rebellion to procure a banishment also to themselves as the others have. For men must be tamed by a certain kindnesse, either D in not foyling or altogether discouraging such as are left in the pro­vince, or els ought he utterly to destroy and impoverish them all, as in chasing away and exiling the inhabitants of those places, vvhere he vvill establish colonies: for iniuries done to a man, ought to be exe­cuted in such sort as they may not bee subiect to feare of vengeance. The Romans knew well how to observe this Maxime, sending colo­nies to all the nations vvhich they vanquished, by the means of vvhich Colonies they held the most feeble in their vveaknesse, not suffering them to gather strength, and they also vveakened the power of such E as vvere great and most iminent.

[Page 168] THe distinction of the proprietie of the goods of this world, wher­by F every man ought to be master and assured possessor of his owne, hath been introduced by the law and right of nature, which wils, That to every man beyeelded that which belongeth unto him, or els by the right of nations, which comes all to one end. This di­stinction of proprietie maintaineth the commerce and trafficke The proprie­tie of goods is from the right of na­ture. amongst men, it entertaineth buyings and sellings, permutations, loanes, and such like, which are the bonds of all humane societie: and if the distinction of proprie­tie of goods, be not maintained in the world, all commerce is destroyed, & all con­societie decayed and resolved. For although some poets and philosophers praise the communitie of goods, remembring us of that old golden world of Saturne, yet G it is plainely evident to all people of judgement, that communitie induceth and brings a carelesnesse, idlenesse, discord, and confusion into the commonweale, as learnedly Aristotle demonstrateth in his Pollitiques. Therefore very necessary it is, that the naturall right therein be observed, and every man maintained in the enjoy­ance of his owne good, and that to every man be rendered that which is his owne: yea, this right ought to bee so observed, that it is not lawfull for the prince to breake or violate it: because by reason of naturall right it is inviolable, and none can dero­gate from it. And hereunto agreeth the divine right, whereby it is shewed unto us, that Achab, a king, ought not to take away the vineyard from Naboth his subject: H and hereunto also accord the rules of civile right, whereby it is said, That the right naturall, and the right of nations are inviolable, in such sort, as that right civile and positive, neither can nor ought to derogate any thing from them.

Hereby therefore is seene the absurditie and manifest iniquitie of this Maxime of Machiavell, who counselleth a prince, as soone as hee hath conquered a new countrey, to dispossesse the masters and right owners, of their goods, in townes and places where he shall know it to be expedient to make himselfe strong; and to place there other new masters and possessors of his owne nation, in their places who are dispossessed and banished. For if the prince use this Maxime, certaine it is: first that he violateth the right and law of nature, which hee ought not to doe: secondly, hee I acquireth the enmitie of the inhabitants of that new conquered countrey, which may be a meanes to deject him from all: For in the love of subjects and in their vo­luntarie obedience lieth the firmenesse and assurance of a princes estate, as wee shall speake in another place. It is folly to alledge, that there will bee no malecontents, but only they which are driven away: For such (sayth Machiavell) as remaine in the countrey, will be satisfied, because they abide still: but (as I say) it is folly to thinke so: For certainely, alwaies every one feareth that which he seeth happen to his neigh­bours; and further, not onely our owne losses engender in us miscontentment, but also others losses, as of our parents, friends, allies, yea, of such as are not joyned unto us with other bond, than to be of our countrey, of our tongue, or of our religion, al­though that in all these there is a distinction of more and lesse. Thirdly, they whom K the prince chaseth from their possessions and goods, will ever be so deadly enemies, that all their lives they will leave no stone to remove, to have right and vengeance of such injustice done against the law of nature. And the prince hath no cause to think they cannot hurt him, because they are poore banished people: for it is certain, that there is no little enemie but will be hurtfull. Of how small a beginning did Sertorius [Page 169] arise? He was but a simple Romane gentleman, without authoritie and meanes: yet A with certaine troupes of Barbarians (trained as well as he could) he possessed a good Pl [...]. in Ser­torio & Crass [...] Florus. lib. 52 55, 56. part of Spaine: The Romanes sent against him Metellus, with a great hoast, which could do nothing to him; insomuch, as they were yet forced to send Pompeius with an armie, whom Sertorius braved, calling him the little prentice of Silla: and it appea­red, that if Sertorius had not been slaine of his own people, he had sooner overcome Pompeius, than he him: Yet Sertorius was but a simple souldier, who had neither silver nor treasure; he had no authoritie to command, neither did any obey him against their wils. Spartacus also was but a poore slave, which escaping from his master, gathered together a great number of people, and made strong warre upon the Ro­manes, whom hee many times vanquished: And but that Pompeius and Crassus with B great armies were greatly busied to hinder his desseignes, he had made himselfe ma­ster of Italie. And was not Cleon another poore slave; yet gathered under his condu­ction an armie of 70 thousand other slaves, wherewith he had like to have gotten all Sicilie? And Viriatus was but a shepheard on the mountaines of Spaine, and gathe­ring together a great number of shepheards and theeves, he made infinit worke for the Romanes: yet in the end certaine Romane captains sent against him, not being able otherwise to overcome him, caused him traiterously to be slaine: This the Senat found not good, but greatly blamed those captains, which overcame by so villanous a meane: After Viriatus was slaine, his people disbanded not, but still made warre upon the Romanes; insomuch, as the Romanes were constrained to give unto C them, to appease them, the towne and territorie of Valence in Spaine to inhabite, and so they were satisfied, and gave over their armes. Of late memorie, Philibert de Chaton Prince of Orange, Antonie de Leva, Andrew Doria, the Marquis of Mantua, and many others, whereof we have spoken in other places, which revol­ted against king Francis the first, and did him more hutt, than all the forces of the emperour Charles the fift: yet were they no great lords, in comparison of the king. Therefore he which is a wise prince, will estimate no enemie to be pettie and little, but will guard himselfe from justly offending any man, fearing least by that meanes hee procure enemies: For enmities will come too fast on a man, before hee lookes for them. D

As for that hee saith, That the Romanes had colonies in countries which they Titus Livi. lib. 10. Dec. 1. & lib 7. Dec. 3. & lib. 8. Dec. 4. conquered, they did it not to serve their turnes as fortresses in that countrey (as Ma­chiavell saith) but to disburden the citie of Rome of their too great a multitude of people, which were still stirring up rebellions and seditions in their towne; as in the time of the consulship of Marcus Valerius, and Quintus Apuleius: The towne (saith Titus Livius) was brought to a great quiet and tranquilitie, by discharging it of a great part of the common people, by deduction of colonies: which when they were sent into any countrey, that the Romanes had conquered, the publick and common fields were divided amongst them; yet the old inhabitants were not chased away, neither were their goods taken from them, but only mingled with the Romans E goods, which dwelt with them in their townes in houses they themselves builded, or els, which were publicke and conquered to the Roman commonweale. The Romans also set up colonies, as a multiplication of their race, but not to serve them for for­tresses in conquered countries: and that it was so, appears; because they erected not colonies in all the countries they conquered, no not in the most strongest places, but rather in the amplest, fattest, and fertilest places: These said colonies also were [Page 170] no more faithfull unto them, than the other subjects, but often rebelled, as well as o­thers, F as was seene after the battaile that the Romanes lost at Cannas, against An­niball: for then twelve Roman colonies revolted from them, and entred league with Anniball. And it is commonly seene, that citizens transported into other countreyes doe incontinent degenerate, taking the manners and conditions of the countrie; as came to passe in the townes of Alexandria in Aegipt, Seleucia in Siria, Babilon in Parthia, which were colonies of the Macedonians, and to the towne of Tarentum, a colonie of the Lacedaemonians: for all these foresaid townes, were straight des­poiled of the manners, natures, and the originall generositie of their nation, and be­came soft, effeminate, and cowardly, as they were, into whose countries they were removed.

A great and memorable calamitie, fell to Philip king of Macedonie, by remo­ving Titus Livi. lib. 10. Dec. 4. G to other places, the naturall inhabitants of the maritime and sea townes of his countrey. This king fearing to enter into warre with the Romanes, because many of his neighbours, went to complaine of him to the Senat of Rome, thought it good to stand upon his guard, and something distrusting the inhabitants of such townes as were nigh the sea, hee tooke away from thence, the naturall inhabitants, and gave them grounds in Emathia to dwell in, and in their places, planted the inhabitants of Thracia, in whom he trusted: This caused in all Macedonie a great discontentment: for every one saw, to their great griefe, their ancient poore dislodged, carrying their children on their shoulders, weeping and lamenting their calamities, and making H exercations and imprecations against the king, that it might so happen to the king, and his race, to bee driven from his kingdome and countrey: The king being adver­tised, of this universall murmuration, began to enter into a distrust of every man, and especially of the children of certaine gentlemen, which hee had caused to die; and hee feared, that the saide children, making use of the peoples discontentment, should attempt some enterprise against him: and therefore determined to have sea­sed certaine young children, of the slaine gentlemen, for his better assurance. The­oxena the widdow of a great lord (which was slaine by the king) called Herodicus, resolved rather to make die the children of her and her dead husband, than that they should come into the hands and power of the king: So she resolved to save her-selfe I and them at Athens: and yet if the worst fell, she provided good swords & poisons: after shee was embarked with her children, to obtaine the towne of Athens, shee was followed by another boate of the kings people, which when shee saw that they rowed with great dilligence to the barke wherein shee was: ‘Loe (said she my childen) you have now no other meanes to shun the tyrannie of king Philip but death, which you may see (shewing the swords and the poison) chuse which you had rather die on, either on sharpe whetted swords, or to swallow this poison, on (my children) let the eldest shew themselves most hardy and couragious:’ This exhortation persuaded so much, that they slew themselves, some with swords, some with poyson; then she cau­sed them all to fall into the water, even when they yet had breath, and cast her-selfe after them. Straight the kings people ioyned to the barke, but they found it emptie K of the persons they looked for. The crueltie of this fact, added a new flame of envie and evill will towards the king; so that it seemed to every one, they heard the infer­nall furies, preparing themselves to bring upon the king and his race, the imprecati­ons, which all the world made against him: and indeede it came to passe, by the just judgement of God, that as this poore gentlewoman had caused her owne children to [Page 171] or die; so Philip made to dye by poison, his lawfull sonne Demetrius (a prince of ex­ceeding A great towardnesse) by the false accusation of Perseus, his bastard-sonne. Af­ter certaine time, this king having discovered, that by a false accufation he had mur­dered his owne sonne, hee would needes disinherite the bastard Perseus; and beeing continually tormented with the shaddow and resemblance of his sonne Demetruis, which his conscience alwaies brought before his eies, he dyed desperately, detesting & execrating that wicked Perseus. This Perseus, then his only sonne which remained to succeede him in his kingdome, after a few yeeres raigne, was taken prisoner by the Romanes, and led in a triumph to Rome, where hee miserably dyed in a prison: So the imprecations and curses, which the poore people (chased from their countrey and goods by the king) had poured out against him and his race, fell upon him and B his. Is not this an example, to make the haires to stand upright on princes heads, when men persuades them to dispossesse naturall inhabitants of their countrie and goods? yet at this day, are there too many Machiavelists, which say; It is good to chase away the naturall inhabitants of France, or at the least from certaine places and corners, & to people them with some race, that is good, faithfull and loyall, as Itali­ans & Lombards; yea what wants thereof an Italian colonie, in the towne of Lyons? for besides that, a great part of the inhabitants are Italians, and that other people of the countrey, conforme themselves by little & little, to their actions, behaviours, manner of life, and language; that scant shall you finde any so vile, or paltrie an artisan, but hee will studie to speake Italian: for these magnificall Machiavelists, will C give no countenanee, nor willingly heare any, but such as use their owne language; by that meanes, seeking to bring credit both to themselves, and their tongue. The townes also of Paris, Marseille, Grenoble, and many others of France, are they not full of Italians?

4. Maxime. D

‘A Prince in a country newly conquered, must subvert and destroy all such as suffer great losse in that conquest, and altogether root out the blood and the race of such as before governed there.’

MEn (saith Machiavell) doe vvillingly change their lords, thin­king E Cap. 3. of a Prince. to amend themselves; and this opinion commonly makes them revolt; but most commonly they find themselves deceived, see­ing by experience themselves in vvorse case than before: Wherfore (to such such kinds of revoltings) a prince ought to take out of the vvay [Page 172] all such as he thinks are displeased vvith the change, by any enormious F or great losse that hee hath suffered: For I am persuaded (saith he) that all men of good iudgement hold this without doubt, that the estate of a prince or commonweale cannot long endure in a countrey, un­lesse all such be taken away, which for some great harme they have su­stained by the change, are contrarie unto him. And herein Lewis the twelfth, king of Fraunce, dealt not vvisely; therefore in as little time lost he the dutchie of Millane, as before hee had conquered it: For the Milanois found themselves deceived in opinion, and frustrated of the advantages and commodities which they looked for at his hands, G and also could not suffer the proud handling of that new prince: here vvas then his fault, that he tooke not away all male-contents, vvhich suffered losse in the change, and especially because hee utterly rooted not out the race of the Sforces. But Caesar Borgia did not thus: for ha­ving occupied Romania, of all the lords that he had dispossessed, hee left not one alive that he could catch, and very few escaped. Therefore it is better to follow the example of Borgia, than of king Lewis: For sometimes it succeeds not vvell to imitate the best men: For it vvas H domageable to Pertinax and Alexander Severus, to imitate the mild­nesse and bountie of Marcus Antonius: and to Caracalla, Commodus, and Maximine, that they desired to resemble Severus.

MAchiavell meaning to shew, that his purpose tendeth and aimeth onely to instruct a prince, in all sorts of tyrannie, giveth Dionisius Halic. lib. 4. him heere a precept, which in old time Thrasibulus the Milesi­an, gave to Periander a tyrant of Corinth, & by Tarquine the proud king of Rome, to Sextus his sonne. For Periander having I tyrannouslie obtained the domination of the crowne of Co­rinth where he had no right, fearing some conspiration against him, sent a messenger to Thrasibulus his great friend, to desire his counsell and advice, how to bee assured master and lord of Corinth: Thrasibulus made him no answere by mouth, but commanding the messenger to follow him, he went into a field full of ripe corne, and taking of the highest eares there, & the most eminent hee brused them betwixt his hands, and wished the messenger to returne to Periander his master, saying no more unto him. As soone as Periander heard speake of brusing of the most ancient eares of corne, hee presently conceiued the meaning thereof, to wit, to overthrow and take out of the way, all the great men K of Corinth, which suffered any losse, and were grieved at the change of the Estate, as indeed he did. As much did Sextus Tarquinius, the sonne of Tarquinius the proud: for hee making a countenance of some great discontentment with his father, for his great crueltie towards him, purposely caused a fame, secretly to runne to the Gabinians (then his fathers enemies) that for his safegard hee would flye unto them (if it pleased them to receive him) and would bring with him a good troupe [Page 173] of his servants and friends: These poore Gabinians, not suspecting the intelligence A betwixt the father and the sonne, sent him word, hee should bee very welcome: Hee failed not with a good troupe (by stealth) to goe thither, where ariving they welcom­med him; and (because hee gave them to understand that hee would make warre upon his father, to revenge the injurie done by his father to him & them) they elec­ted him their captaine: As soone as hee saw his foote in, hee secretly sent a messen­ger to his father, to let him understand what command hee had in the towne, and to send him word, what hee should doe: The abovesaid Tarquin led the messenger into a garden, where amongst many other hearbs, then growne up to seede, there were great store of poppie, whose highest heads he struck of a pace, with a little staffe, he had in his hand, and made no other answere to the messenger, who returning to Ga­bium, B told Sextus, his fathers actions; so as hee well understood, what he should doe: Then made hee the people understand, That Antistius Petra (the chiefe lord, and magistrate of the Gabinians) with certaine of his complices, had conspired to de­liver him to Tarquin his father, either dead or alive; and hee shewed letters found in the house of Antistius, written by Tarquin, and sealed with his seale, directed to Antistius, which were found about him (where Sextus had secretlie put them) which he caused to be read before all the Gabinians: as soone as they had heard them, they were so angred and moved against good Antistius (who knew not what to say of this thing he never thought) that straight they stoned him, and suffered Sextus himselfe to punish the compartners of Antistius: Then Sextus having the bridle loose, caused C to be massacred in their houses, all the greatest and noblest of the towne of Gabium; and by that meanes, he and his father proved masters of that poore desolate towne. But this tyrannie and others they committed, caused on the other side, that they lost the kingdome and domination of Rome; so that fishing for a frog, they let goe out of their net a lamprey: so happeneth it ordinarilie, to such as will needes practise this detestable doctrine of Machiavell.

If wee looke into the manner of government, practised by all great conquerors, (not such petie and tyrannous governours as Borgia) and generous monarches, which became the greatest and noblest of the world, as Caesar, Alexander the great, Cyrus, Charlemaine, &c. wee shall finde, that they used most contrary meanes to Ma­chiavells D doctrine: for they exercised no cruelties towards great or little as they made their conquests, but so farre, as the necessitie of warre carried them: Yea they used conquered people with all kindnesse & clemencie; they embraced, and entertained very well, such as were great personages; & altered nothing in the publike state, reli­gion, policie, customes & liberties; but maintained them all, contenting themselves onely with the soveraignite: And this was the cause, why many people desired not to resist them, but to bee their subjects; and they which resisted them, yeelded againe easily, without abiding any great batterie or assaults. Therefore most generously and nobly, dealt king Lewis, to imitate the kindnes and gentlenes of those great Mo­narches, when hee conquered Millan: For although hee after againe lost it, yet it followeth E not that the fault proceeded heereof, That hee would not bee so cruell as to exterminate the whole race of the Sforces: but rather heere of proceeded that losse by the inconstancie of the Millanois, and the machinations of pope Iulius the second, with the Venetians, which thought it not good to have so great a master so nigh them; as the French and Italian hystories doe evidently demonstrate.

And whereas Machiavell maintaineth, That it succeeds not well, for a prince to [Page 174] imitate sometimes the vertuous actions of generous princes, and that therefore he F ought to follow the vicious actions of such as are of no account; he shewed that he is together both wicked and ignorant: for what more wicked doctrine can be given to a prince, than to say, he ought to imitate wicked actions, because sometimes they succeed well? This is as much as to say, that we must by the high waies cut merchants throats, and be theeves, because theeves gaine therby. But if Machiavell and all his favourites would judge of the successe of all things by their end (as they ought to judge) they should find, that those glorious & goodly successes that happen to the wicked, are but meanes, wherewith God serves himselfe to bring them into ruin and utter overthrow, which they merited, as amply I have otherwhere shewed by many examples. And as for the examples he alledgeth, he shewes himselfe by the applica­tion G he makes, a very beast. It succeeded not well (saith hee) to Commodus, Caracalla Spartian & Dion in Se­vero & Caracalla. and Maximinus, in that they would imitate and resemble Severus: ô bravely applied and to good purpose spoken! for Pertinax succeeded Commodus and Severus, Per­tinax; so that Commodus did never see nor know Severus, who in his time was yet un­knowne, being a simple waged souldier, of a base and unknowne race: how should Capitol. in Maximino. then Commodus propose him for an example to imitate? and as for Caracalla his sonne, and Maximin, they were never imitators of Severus, but in his vices; namely, in crueltie; and therefore we need not mervaile, if it succeded not well unto them. Lamprid. in Alexan. Herod. lib. 6. Capitol. in Marco. The emperour Severus had very good vertues; for he was very well learned, and ad­vanced to estates learned people; he maintained a very good policie in the Roman empire; he made good and holy lawes, which are yet in use; hee caused good justice H to bee administred to the people, and kept barbarous nations in a new obedience. Caracalla his sonne had none of those vertues, although Machiavell being very ig­norant of histories, saith he was endued with excellent vertues: for histories attribute no vertue unto him, but that from his youth hee was accustomed to live a la Soul­darde, like a souldier; that hee was not delicate, but patient of labour; but otherwise the most wicked man in the world in all things. And as for Maximin, he in all things resembled Caracalla, but that he was issued from a vile and base race, and a barbarous nation; and Caracalla was an emperours sonne: and as for that which Machiavell sayth, That it succeeded not well to Pertinax & Alexander Severus by their imitation I of the emperour Antonius the philosopher, hee still shewes more his beastlinesse, and that he hath not read the hystories of their lives. For hystories shew, that Perti­nax was slaine of his souldiers, because he appeared to them more covetous than he should have been: So likewise was Alexander slaine for the covetousnesse of Mam­mea his mother towards the souldiers. But we never reade, that Marcus Antonius was ever spotted with that vice of covetousnesse: but contrary, that he was a very liberall prince, nothing holding lesse than a covetous mind: and that herein, as in all other vertues, he was a true philosopher, that is to say, loving good, and hating evill. And therefore Machiavell knowes not what he saith, when he saith it succeeded not well with Pertinax and Alexander Severus, to have a mind to imitate Marcus Antonius: K he had better have spoken onely of the jeasts and matters written in the registers of Florence, whereof he was Secretarie, than so with a foolish interpretation to inqui­nate and corrupt hystories he knowes not.

5. Maxime. A

‘To be revenged of a citie or a countrey, without striking any blow, they must be filled with wicked manners. B’

VAnquished cities or provinces (saith this Florentine) doe mer­vellously Discourse, lib. 1. cap. 35. & lib. 2. cap. 19. vvell revenge themselves of the vanquishers, in recei­ving them gently, and filling them with wicked manners: for so doe they easily prepare and dispose them to be vanquished, by vvhomsoe­ver assaulteth them: as it happened to Annibals souldiers at Capua. For having a long time soiourned there at their ease in all delights and pleasures, they became all, so effeminate, that they vvere never after good for any thing. This corruption of manners comes ordinarily C vvhen corrupted nations frequent amongst others: for they infect them vvith evill manners. And therefore it is, that the Almaigne nati­on remaines so entire and constant in his manners, because the Al­maignes vvere never curious to trafficke vvith their neighbours, nor to dwell in other countries, nor to receive strangers into their coun­trey, but alwayes have contented themselves vvith their owne goods, nouriture, manners, and fashion of apparrell: insomuch, as shunning the frequentation of Spaniards, French, and Italians (vvhich are the three nations of the vvorld most vicious) they have not yet learned D their customes and corruptions.

I Have not here set downe this Maxime, to say it is not very true. For besides the examples we reade in hystories, we know it by experience and sight of eye; seeing wee see at this day all Fraunce fashioned after the manners, conditions, and vices of strangers that governe it, and have the principall charges and Estates: and not onely many Frenchmen are such beasts to conforme themselves to strangers complecti­ons, E but also to gaggle their language, and doe disdaine the French tongue, as a thing too common and vulgar. But if wee well consider this manner of vengeance taught by Machiavell in this Maxime, we shall find it is a most detestable doctrine, as well for them which practise it, as for them against whom it is practised. The example even of Capua, which Machiavell alledgeth, prooveth it. For the Capuans in receiving into their towne Annibals armie, cor­rupted Tit. Livius, lib. 3. Dec. 3. [Page 176] rupted and infected the souldiers of Anniball with all excesse and effeminate wan­tonnesse; F & also by the same meanes they procured their owne ruine and entire de­struction, which soone after happened unto them. The Persian lords, which with their manners corrupted king Alexander the Great, did nothing to their owne ad­vauntage: Plu. in. Alex. For Alexander becomming vicious, they got the evill will of the Ma­cedonians, which tooke displeasure to see their king corrupted: and finally, after the death of Alexander (which came unto him by his dissolutenesse, learned of the Persians) these lords had part of the evill lucke, whereof they were cause: And ge­nerally we may see, that the corrupters of princes and people, take part alwayes in the evill, whereof they are cause, as in other places we have shewed, by many exam­ples of flatterers, which have corrupted their princes. We Frenchmen may yeeld G good witnesse of what account the Italian and Neapolitane nation is, by the frequentation wee had with them in the voyage which was made to Naples, in the time of king Charles the eight: for from thence brought they this disease, which at this day is now called the French poxe, and that we have ever since kept: but yet so, as the Italians and Neopolitanes are not exempt therefrom, but both the one and the other have part of that corruption. Breefely, we ought to detest and hate this wicked doctrine of Machiavell, and reject all vengeance, and follow S. Paules lesson; who commands us to converse with good people and of good man­ners, because the conversation of the wicked, not onely corrupteth good manners, but also soweth those that are wicked. H

And as for that which Machiavell saith of the Almaignes, wee know and see the frequentation of the Almaignes in France, and yet till this present we have not seene, that they have yet gathered corruption of manners. And whereas he sets downe the French nation amongst such as are most corrupted; we cannot denie it: but we may well say, That the doctrine of Machiavell, & the frequentation of them of his nation, are cause of the greatest and most detestable corruption, which is at this day in Fraunce: For of whome have the Frenchmen learned and knowne atheisme, sodomie, trecherie, crueltie, usurie, and such other like vices, but of Machiavell and of them of his nation: So that they may brag, that they are well re­venged of the warres which our auncestors have made in Italie. I

6. Maxime.

‘It is folly to thinke, that with princes and great lords, new pleasures will K cause them to forget old offences.’

CAEsar Borgia (saith Machiavel) during the life of Pope Alexander Cap. 7. Of Princes, Discourse lib. 3. cap. 4. the sixt, his father, usurped the domination of Romania (which [Page 177] is a land belonging to the Church) and vvas called duke de Valenti­nois. A In making those usurpations in favour of the Pope his father, he offended many Cardinals, and amongst others the Cardinall of Saint Peter ad vincula: yet after he consented, that hee should bee elected Pope, after the death of Alexander his father, vvhereof hee soone re­pented. For this new Pope, called Iulius the eleventh, straight be took himselfe to armes to recover that vvhich Borgia had usurped, al­though he had favoured him in his election, vvhich hee should never have done, nor suffered any election of a Pope, vvhich vvas his ene­mie: For (saith he) new pleasures never makes men forget old iniuries B and offences: and therefore Borgia, which in all other things had go­verned vvell, committed a foule fault in the creation of Iulius, and him­selfe delivered the mean of his finall destruction. The same fault cōmit­ted Servius Tullius, king of the Romanes, in giving his two daughters in marriage to two Tarquins, vvhich quarrelled for the crowne, and vvhich thought that Tullius vvould usurpe it upon them. For not only this alliance extinguished the envie and rancour vvhich they had to Servius, but that which is more, it caused one of the daughters to en­terprise C to sley her owne father.

IF seemeth that this which Machiavell telleth of Borgia, boweth something from the truth of the hystorie. For Sabellicus writeth, That during the election of Pope Iulius the eleventh, Borgia was shut up in the Popes tower to be safe and guarded by his enemies: So there was no likelyhood, that a man brought into such an ex­tremitie, as to hide himselfe, and be shut up in prison, for the great multitude of enemies which hee had procured, should have such great credit in the Popes election. But suppose it was true, that Borgia helped Pope Iulius to the D Popedome, and that Pope Iulius was unthankfull for that benefit, for the remem­brance that he had of the old and ancient injuries that Borgia had sometimes done him: what followes hereof? That all great lords will alwayes doe the like, will some Machiavelist answer; and that therefore they ought not to bee trusted: Is not here a goodly doctrine for a prince? Breefely, it is Machiavels mind to teach a prince to trust in no lord, which hee hath once offended, and againe, that none which hath made a fault, or offended him, shall any more trust him, whatsoever reconciliation, peace, concord, amitie, pleasure, and good offices may happen since the offence. Here, behold a most wicked and detestable doctrine, to say, That an offence ought to take so deepe root in the heart of the offended, that by no pleasures, services, or o­ther E meanes, it can be rased out. But Machiavell seemeth something excusable to maintaine this Maxime: for according to the honour of his nation, vengeances, and enmities are perpetuall and irreconcilable: and indeed, there is nothing wherein they take greater delectation, pleasure, and contentment, than to execute a venge­ance; insomuch as, whensoever they can have their enemie at their pleasure, to be re­venged upon him, they murder him after some strange & barbarous fashion, and in [Page 178] murdering him, they put him in remembrance of the offence done unto them, with F many reprochfull words and injuries to torment the soule and the body together; and sometimes wash their hands and their mouthes with his blood, and force him with hope of his life to give himselfe to the divell; and so they seeke in slaying the bodie to damne the soule, if they could: God by his grace keepe all countries, but especially England (which alreadie is so spotted with other vices, and with the do­ctrine that Machiavell teacheth, and which they of his nation practise) that they be not soiled and infected with that immortall and irreconcilable vengeance. For how should it be possible, that any man should be without infinit quarels, and continual, and ordinarie batteries and murders, yea, with parents and friends, and with al other persons, with whom he hath any frequentation; if offences may never be blotted out G but by vengeance? Every one may well know by experience, that they which are a­mongst themselves great friends and familiars, yet commit offences one to another and sometimes have great stirres, despights, and contentions amongst them: But must men as soone as they receive any offence at the hand of a parent, friend, or of any other, forget and blot out all amitie, Christian and brotherly charitie towards his neighbour, and to pardon no faults, but seeke the ruin of him that offendeth us? Surely, this is not onely farre from all Christian pietie, but also from all humanitie and common sence; yea, brute beasts, which have no reason, are not so unreasona­ble: Irreconcila­ble venge­ance con­trary to na­tural right. for a dog which we have offended, will be appeased with a piece of bread, yea, will fawne upon him which beat him, and as much will an horse do and an oxe which H hath ben pricked and beaten, when hey is given them: and as for such as say, that vengeance is lawfull by right of nature, are greatly deceived, as the beasts named before doe shew: True it is, that nature teacheth man and all living creatures to put backe violence with violence, when a man is upon the act, and instant it selfe when as violence is inferred: but it teacheth not, that after the act of violence & outrage is committed, a man ought to seeke vengeance, to put backe that violence & outrage: for this is not to repell and repulse injurie, which already being received, cannot be repulsed; but rather to inferre a new injurie & violence: & withall, that naturall right, To repulse violence with violence, it must be understood with reason & equal mode­ration; that is to say, That such right hath place, when by no other mean in any other I sort, we can shun the violence which is offered unto us: And indeed, the brute beasts themselves shew us we must so use it: for you shall not see a wolfe, nor a swine seeke to put backe the violence offered him, whilest they have place enough to flie, and that they be not brought to a strait: and therfore it is a beastly ignorance, to colour that detestable vice of vengeance, by the right of nature: for it is cleane contrarie, and especially to the irreconcilable vengeance whereof Machiavell speaketh, which he saith, cannot be defaced nor forgotten by new pleasures. But I doe well know, that some Machiavelist will replie upon this doctrine, that Machiavell speaketh onely of princes and great lords, unto whom he saith; That new pleasures cannot extinguish old injuries, and that hereunto accordeth that which Homer saith: K

A mightie king that angry is against one lesse than he,
Hom. Iliad. lib. 1.
Can hide full deepe in spightfull heart, that hard it is to see
His fierce and angry wrathfull mood, till he espies his time,
Revenge to take, according to the greatnesse of the crime.

[Page 179] But let the case be so, that the wrath and irritations of great princes and lords, A dwell longer in their hearts, than in other persons of lesse qualitie, as the meaning of Homer seemes to be: hereof it followeth not, that a prince is implacable, and that he cannot be appeased by any pleasures or services. It seemes that Homer noted no other thing in the particular natures of kings and great lords, but that they knowe how for a time to dissemble despights and offences perpetrated against them, and can attend opportunitie to revenge them (a thing very true, and that wee see often practised:) But it is farre from Homer to say, that kings and princes cannot be appea­sed by pleasures and good services that may bee done unto them after the offence, yea, in humiliating and reconciling themselves to them. Homer speakes here of cho­lericke kings, which are not masters of themselves, not being able to command their passions B and affections which raigne in them, and which doe darken their reason and judgement, such as was king Agamemnon, of whom he especially spoke in the place above alledged. For many good and wise kings and princes are seene, which Good prin­ces encline to pardon. can so well make their passions and affections obey reason, that not onely their wise judgement never suffereth, that a desire after perpetuall vengeance shall take root in their hearts; but rather will not leave in their memorie the offences that are done them, but will forget and pardon them of their owne motion, before any pardon be demanded: for their wisedome judgeth, that those passions of vengeance, besides that they doe but torment and make leane the heart of a prince, are altogether con­trarie to the principall vertue, which ought to shine in a prince as clemencie, gentle­nesse, C and goodnesse, a vertue making a princes estate pleasing and assured, which ought principally to shine in privat offences, as justice ought especially to shine in publicke offences, as shall be spoken more at large in another place: although even in publicke offences it is sometimes requisit for the publicke good and utilitie, that the prince use clemencie and forgetfulnesse.

To this purpose is very regardable the opinion, that in the Senat, that great and Titus Livi. lib. 4. Dec. 3. wise person Quintus Fabius Maximus held. When the Romanes begun to get up and reprosper, after their ruine at Cannas, many of their allies, which had revolted to Anniball, profered to come to them againe: Amongst others there was one Clas­sius Altinius Arpinus, who came to Rome, and made the Senat understand, That he D had meanes to bring the towne of Arpos, where he inhabited, into their hands: The matter comming to deliberation in the Senate, some argued, That it was not good to trust in this Altinius, nor in any other Arpinois, seeing they had violated their faith by revolting unto Anniball, and that it were folly to make account of such peo­ple, which have their faith as variable as fortune: and as for his offer, to deliver the towne of Arpos, he did it for no good affection hee bore to the Romane common-wealth, but because he saw the affaires thereof dissolve and decay. But Fabius reaso­ned in another sort: ‘Masters (said he) they which have spoken before, seeme to give their opinion, as if we were alreadie in good peace, forgetting the time lately passed and not considering that we are yet in the heat of warre: As for me, I think we stand E in need to devise all the meanes wee can find out, to containe our allies from revolt: But if the necessitie of times lately past, and their weakenesse have drawne them on once to a revolt; and if after, it bee not lawfull for them to returne and to reconcile themselves, who can doubt, but at length all our allies will turne from us to the Car­thaginians? My advice then is, That we should not reject a reconcilation with such as revolt from us, although they have not been so constant as they should bee in a [Page 180] faithfull adherence unto us.’ The opinion of Fabius was followed by all the Senate, F and by the meanes of Altinius the Romanes reseased the towne of Arpos.

But it seemeth, that the persuasion which Quintus Metellus used in the name of all the Senate, unto Aemylius Lepidus and Fulvius Nobilior, censors of Rome, is very worthie the marking, to shew, that vengeances and enmities ought not to bee perdurable in great lords, but ought to appease themselves, and be reconciled one to another. The said two censors beeing two of the greatest princes and lords of Rome, which had been consuls, and endued with other great offices and estates, and at that time were censors, which was the greatest office of all: For censors tooke cognisance of all the abuses of magistrates and senators, and might put them out: These two being enemies (although companions in one charge) the Senate deter­mined to seeke meanes to agree them: so they sent unto them a great number of the G principall senatours, amongst which, Quintus Metellus, who had the charge to speake for all, in a temple where the censors were, begun to remonstrate and tell unto them, as followeth: ‘Wee know (right honourable censors) that you are now in an estate to reprehend and correct the manners and faults even of senators, yea, it is in you to governe and correct us, and not in us to reprehend you: Yet have wee one thing from the Senate to say unto you, whereat all good men in you are offen­ded and scandalized: When we consider of you apart, we know you to be such, as in all the towne there cannot bee found men more capable and fit to bee censors and correctors, than you: but when we looke on you together, we feare you are not well H coupled; neither is that wherein you please us, so profitable unto us, as it may be domageable unto us, if that you two disagree together: Therefore wee all in gene­rall entreat, that you will finish in this temple your enmities and rancours, and that in a good union of counsell and amitie, you will establish elect senators, review our knights, and exercise all other points of your censorship. Titus Tatius, and Romu­lus warred one against another, yet after governed in this cittie together in good concord and amitie: When warres are finished, it is often seene, that men become good friends and faithfull allies, which before were mortall enemies:’ There is a com­mon Amities ought to be immortall, and enmi­ties mortal. proverbe worthie of observation, That amities ought to be immortall, and en­mities mortall: Therefore good masters censors, we beseech you bee reconciled to­gether, I and hearken unto the Senates just petition. Straight after this short orati­on, although either of the said censors desired and were instant to make it appeare to the said senators, that with good & just cause they hated one another; yet they both submitted themselves to whatsoever arbitrement of those senators. The said Sena­tors then thought it good, that they should give their hands and faith one to another in token of reconcilation and amitie, and that both should sweare in that temple, that earnestly and without all fiction they finished their hatred, and in all true love reconciled themselves: This they did, and solemnely swore, that with a good heart, and without all hypocrisie, they banished and departed from all evill will, and be­came ever after good friends: All the Romane Senate (saith Titus Livius) praised K and greatly approved this reconcilation in these censors.

It is then an act of a good man and of an honourable nature, to bee facile and prompt to reconcilation, and not to engrave in our hearts perpetuall enmities and rancours, as Machiavell teacheth: and good men ought not only to be facile in re­concilation, but they ought also to contemne and disdaine all revenges by way of action and violence, as beeing a course unlawfull, unfitting and unbecomming [Page 181] him, that would conserve in himselfe the reputation of an honourable & good man. A And this is it, which the hystorian Salust notably saith: ‘A good man (saith he) loves better to bee vanquished, than by evill meanes to doe injurie: and to vanquish, in what sort soever it be, if on the vanquished there be practised too bitter a revenge, it is an evill and damageable thing, which often bringeth the totall ruine of Commonweales.’

Moreover generous and vertuous princes, ought not onely to bury and blot out all old injuries, with new benefits; but also even recent and new offences (which doe more nigh than old touch the heart) ought to bee forgotten, in consideration of ancient pleasures and merites. The Caerites the Romanes allies and neighbours, breaking their faith and treatie of confederation, aided and succoured the Tarqui­nian B people, which made warre upon the Romanes: The Tarquinians and their suc­cours being vanquished, the Caerites could doe no better, than in all humble man­ner submit themselves to the Romanes, unto whom they sent embassadors, which in substance made this oration to the Romane people: ‘Masters (said they) may it please you to remember, how in the time of your callamitie, when the Gauls tooke, pilled, and burnt the citie of Rome, that you sent into our towne of Caeres, all your priests, Vestall nuns, and all the sacred images of your gods; insomuch as then Caeres was as your holie revestrie, yea the onely refuge & safegard for all your holy things, which there were well received and conserved: Wee therefore pray you, in favour of the gods, whose sacred Images wee have preserved, in the ruine and combustion C of Rome, that now in this prosperitie, you will take pittie and bee mercifull unto us, as wee had of you in your adversitie. If now wee have committed any hostile thing against you, it came rather upon furie and follie, than of any good counsell: wee bee­seech you therefore, that you will not suffer our ancient good deeds, which wee pla­ced and bestowed upon people far from all ingratitude, to perish by a new evill deed, and in your prosperitie, handle not as enemies them which in your adversitie, you elected for friends.’ The people (saith Titus Livius) were much moved by the an­cient merit of the Caerites, rather to forget the new fault, than the old benefit, and a An old plea­sure putteth out a new offence. peace, and remission of their offences, was accorded unto them.

The same moderation of minde, used Francis the first of that name of good me­morie, D towards the inhabitants of Rochell, in Anno 1541. The Rochelois falling to mutunie, against certaine of the kings officers, about the impost of Salt, but acknow­ledging Du Bello. lib 9. of his Coment. their fault, they humbled themselves before that good king, demanding par­don, which hee granted in an oration, with a grave and discreet admonishment, very worthie such a king and Christian prince in these words: ‘My good subjects and friends (for such may I well call you, since you acknowledge your faults) the office and dutie of subjects is so great towards their prince, that they which faile in that dutie, commit so great a crime as they cannot perpetrate a greater, nor more pu­nishable, for the inconveniences which may thereupon follow: For every estate of The publick estate lieth in wel com­manding & wel obeying a well instituted monarch, and commonweale, consisteth in two points: namely, in E the just commandement of the prince or superiors, and in the loyall obedience of subiects: If either of these want, it is as much, as (in thelife of a man) the separation of the bodie and of the soule; for in man, life can no longer endure, than the soule desisteth to command and governe the body, and that the body desisteth from o­beying the soule. God grant mee grace, that I may not faile in the commandement, which hee hath given mee over you, which I doe acknowledge to hold of him, as a [Page 182] thing whereof I must make account unto him: and although according to that F command I have over you, I may reasonably practise the punishment of justice up­on you; yet because it is a thing more covenable for a prince, to prefer mercy and clemencie, before the rigour of justice; but especially towards such as repent, and demand pardon; I pardon you with a good heart: seeing likewise, that I know you are children of good fathers, whose fidelitie hath beene many times experimented, by my predecessors, I had rather forget your new misdeede, than your ancient merits; I hope also that from henceforth, you will as willingly bee enclined to obey mee, as my naturall inclination is to pardon you. I will not doe to you, as the emperour did to them of Gaunt,’ which having committed them under the slavish servitude of a citadell, defiled his hands with their bloud: My hands (thanks bee to God) are Crueltie takes love from sub­jects to their prin­ces, cleare from the bloud of my subjects; and indeede hee lost the hearts and amitie, G of his subjects, by shedding their bloud; but I hope that my mercie and clemency, shall confirme your hearts & love towards me your king, who kindly handleth you as a good father; and that if you and your predecessors, have beene in times past good and faithfull subjects; you will bee much better heereafter: ‘I pray you forget this offence which is happened, and for my part, I will not remember it at any time of my life: I pray you also bee as good subjects, as you have heeretofore beene, and I hope God will give mee grace to bee better towards you, than I have beene. God our Lord and creatour, pardon you, and I doe heartely forgive you, all you have done without excepting any thing.’ At this word, proceeding from so magnificall H and generous a king, all the Rochelois began to weepe for joy, and crying Vive le Roy, they prayed God to conserve in all prosperitie so good a king, so kind and mer­cifull. Then upon the kings commandement, all the bells of Rochell were rung, all their gunnes were shot off, and bonefires made, in signe of great rejoycing.

And so much there wants, that good princes have beene enclined to vengeance, that contrary, the principallitie it selfe, makes them forget all affection of venge­ance, Spartian in Adrian. that they had before: as wee reade of the emperour Adrian, who being come to the empire, forgot all his former enmities; insomuch as one day soone after he Ascending unto honor is descen­ding from vengeance. came to the empire, encountring a capitall enemie of his, hee said unto him: Thou art escaped. I

King Lewis the twelfth, before hee was king, being but duke of Orleance, had many troubles: For, in the time of king Charles the eight his predecessor, his ene­mies Annales upon Anno 1488. thought to have taken him prisoner, but hee saved himselfe in Bretaigne, whi­ther hee was persecuted with an army, and battaile was given him, and the duke of Bretaigne, who tooke his part at S. Aubin (where the kings armie got the victorie) and the said duke of Orleance, were taken prisoners, led to the castle Luzignen, and from thence brought to the great towre of Bourges: After all this, there was a con­corde amongst them, and the said duke came to the crowne: Being king, they which followed him into Bretaigne, and to other places during his adversitie, persuaded him to bee revenged, of such as had made warre upon him, at the kings command: and they shewed unto him, that the cause of his then persecution, came not by king K Charles his motion, who was then within age but by his principallest Counsellors and governours, such as was Messire Lewis de la Trimonille, and others. But that good king Lewis shaped them this answere, worthie of so gentle and christian a king, that could command his choler and passions: Nay (saith hee) a king of France, may not revenge injuries done to the duke of Orleance.

[Page 183] King Phillip the hardie a gentle prince, a lover of peace, and very easie to graunt Annal. up­on the year 1272. A pardon. The countie de Foix in his time rebelled, but at the request of a sonne in law of the countie, this good king pardoned him his fault, and gave him againe cer­taine land, which hee caused to bee seized, and moreover made him knight, and at Court retained him into his service. This is far from nourishing enemies, and per­petuall vengeance, as Machiavell teacheth.

But heere might I accumulate and heape up many other examples, of Caesar, Augustus, Traian, Marcus Antonius, Constantine, Charlemaine, S. Lewis, Charles le sage, Alexander the great, of Sirus, and generally of all the good princes, which ever have beene, all which were endowed with that excellent vertue of clemencie, and were farre from all vengeance. But these I have recited, I hope may serve suf­ficientlie, B to shew by good reasons and notable examples, that that passion of irre­concilable vengeance, is unseemely and unworthie a good prince.

And as for the examples, wherewith Machiavell serves himselfe, they bee but examples of tyrants, and such as were of no account: and of such people I know men had neede take heede: for although for a time, they dissemble their choller and their appetite to vengeance, yet will they not faile to discover it, as soone as they see a commodious time, to bee revenged with advantage. But all Princes resemble little, the Tarquines, or Pope Iulius whereof Machiavell speaketh: For Tarquin who enterprised to sley king Servius Tullius his father in law, to obtaine the kingdome of Rome, shewed well by that act and many other, that hee was a very tyrant: His C end was also such as commonly tyrants have: for he was driven from his kingdome, which hee had unduly and unjustly usurped, and was compelled to passe the rest of his daies in great povertie, as a private person, banished from Rome with all his children. And as for Pope Iulius, hee was knowne for a true and disloyall tyrant, who greatlie abused the bountie of king Lewis the twelfth: For that good king tooke from the Bentivolians, Boloigne, and many other townes from such pettie lords as occupied them, and delivered them into the popes hands, because they were lands belonging to the Romane church: Yet in recompence, this good Pope, by published bulls, exposed the whole kingdome of Fraunce for a prey, to whom­soever would take it, together with all the countries and lands of the allies of D Fraunce; and so Iohn de Albert king of Navarre, lost his kingdome, and king Lewis lost Millaine, and almost all that hee held beyond the mountaines, as wee have said in another place. And this was the recompence, the king received for all his benefits, of this disloyall and wicked Pope, of whom in his time was made a Pasquil at Rome, and registred in our annales, which in this sort speakes to his holinesse:

Of Gennua thy father was, from Greece thy mother came,
A child then borne upon the sea, what good in thee can bee.
Genuais deceivers are, Greekes huge lyers are by fame. E
No faith in sea, thou hold'st these points most fully all in thee.

7. Maxime. F

‘A Prince ought to propound unto himselfe, to imitate Caesar Borgia the sonne of Pope Alexander the sixt. G’

IT is not possible for me (saith M. Nicholas) to give better Cap. 14. Of the Prince. precepts to a new prince, than to lay before his eyes for an example the acts of Caesar Borgia, duke de Valentinois, sonne of Pope Alexander the sixt: And although his affaires little prospered, yet it vvas not vvholly his fault, but rather the malignitie of an extraordinarie Fortune. First then by the meanes of the Pope his father, he troubled all the Estates of Italie, that he might the more as­suredly H seize upon part of them: A thing he easily effected: For at the instigation of the Pope his father, and of the Venetians, the king of Fraunce, Lewis the twelfth, passed into Italie, and so soone as he arrived at Millaine, hee gave succours to the Pope to subiugate Romania, vvhich straight vvas reduced under the hands of Borgia, for the repu­tation of the French puissance. Secondly, because at Rome there were two mightie factions, the Colonoise and the Vrsine, against whose en­terprises he feared they would oppose themselves; hee got on his side the Vrsine faction by faire vvords and promises, by the meanes wher­of, I hee beat downe the French forces, and overthrew the Colonois: This being done, he gained the gentlemen, as vvell of the one faction as of the other, honestly according them, retaining them in his house, giving them governments of townes, and other honorable charges, after their merites and qualities: insomuch, as in a little time the Vrsine and Colonois faction remained vvithout cheefetaines. After this, by faire and sweet vvords, accompanied vvith good presents, he caused the Vrsines to come to him unto Synagyllia, vvhich being once toge­ther K in his hands, he slew them all. Having thus suppressed those two factions, and seeing himselfe peaceable, and all Romania and in the dutchie of Vrbin, to make himselfe feared, & to represse the insolencies of the pettie lords of that countrey, hee sent thither, for governour, Messiere Remiro Dorco (a severe and cruell man) unto vvhom he gave [Page 185] full power: Who exercising his crueltie, committed many executions, A by meanes vvhereof, he vvith feare made all the countrey tremble, and so, as peaceable and obedient as might be. What then did Borgia? To make the vvorld beleeve, that such cruell executions vvere not done by his command nor by his consent, suddainly he caused publickely the head of Messier Romiro to be cut off: after this, being afraid of the Frenchmen, he refused any more to be served with the French forces; so he put them away, and to assure himselfe against them, he sought al­liance vvith the Spaniards, vvhich then made vvarre in the kingdome of Naples, and so were farther off to hurt him, than the French which B abode at Millaine: Besides all this, he put to death all the lords, which hee had wronged, and all their generation, and very few escaped; least a new Pope after his father, should take occasion to warre upon him, to reestablish those lords, or their posteritie in their heritage: & as for the Lords, which hee had not offended, hee drew them almost all on his side, to help him to bridle a new Pope, that hee might not en­terprise any thing against him: his purpose was to make himselfe lord of all Tuscane, and after, lord of all Italie: And already hee had C under his protection Pise and Sienna, and Luca inclined unto him. But Pope Alexander his father dyed, and failed him at his neede, so that his domination beeing yet as a thing hanging in the ayre, which was nothing solide, Pope Julius the eleventh easily dispoyled him. Borgia seeing that fortune (which before had shewed him so good a countenance) turned her backe, and prooved so maligne and con­trary unto him, fell sicke and dyed; and upon his death bed hee said; He had prevented and thought upon all inconveniences that might happen unto him but death, which hee never supposed would D so soone have come.

IS not heere a gallant life, and a goodly hystorie to propose, for princes to imitate, or rather a marke of Gods just judgement, Caesar Borgia an example of Gods judgement. which wee see, hee ordinarily exerciseth against such detestable tyrants, which by all manner of cruelties and disloyalties seeke to dominier: For God in the end, brings all their desseignes and goodly enterprises into smoke, and makes them die in lan­guishment E and confusion, and in displeasure, that they have e­ver lived to see themselves falne into a mockerie and reproch with all the world, by their wicked enterprises: Yet this is not all; for dying full of all vices, not grieved for the evils they have done, but rather, for that they had no meanes nor leisure to doe more mischiefe, they depart from this languishing life, to goe suffer eternall paines, by the just judgement of God, who yeeldeth to the wicked, [Page 186] persevering in their vices, the reward of their merit. Is not this wicked Borgia a faire F example to us (who at his death confesseth, that hee thought not to have lived so lit­tle a while) to admonish us, to bee alwaies ready prepared to appeere before God? Horace himself an heathen poet, teacheth us to make no assurance upon the time to come, neither to set our care and hope thereon, when hee saith:

God covers, as with night obscure,
Alwaies the end of life future;
Hor. lib. 3. Car. Ode. 29.
And laughes to see affraid the man,
Of that which no waies see hee can:
Of time present bee carefull then; G
All other things doe flit from men,
As water in the river.

But to understand the goodlie patterne, which this Atheist proposeth heere for a prince to imitate, I thinke it good, a little more amplie to discourse the life and ge­nealogie Sabellicus Ennead. 10. lib. 9. and Enne. 11. lib. 2. of Caesar Borgia: Hee was a bastard sonne of Pope Alexander the sixt, but it is likelie hee legitimated him: for according to the cannon law, the Pope may legitimate the bastards of other priests, and by consequent also his owne: This Pope by nation was a Spaniard, and before hee was Pope, called himselfe Roderic Borgia: but comming to the Popedome, he tooke the name of Alexander; that he and his son, carrying the names of two of the most victorious monarchs that ever were (that H is of Alexander the great, & Iulius Caesar) they might make al the world tremble under them: Hee came to the Popedome, by the art of Nigromancie, as some have writ­ten, which say hee made a composition with the divell, which appeared to him in the forme of a protonotarie; but others write, hee came to it by silver, in bying cardi­nals voices. Philip de Comines (one of that time) saith, that he came to it by silver; as also Iovinianus Pontanus, who writt this Epigramme:

Christ, Sacraments, altars are sould by Alexander Pope
Hee bought them very deare, hee deare then may sell them I hope, I

But it is not much respective I hope, whether hee came to the Popedome by Ni­gromancie, or by silver; for, it is not impossible but he might come to it by both. This Roderic besides the said Caesar, had many other bastards, and especiallie one, which in the night time, during his lascivious whoring in the towne of Rome, was massacred, and the next morning his bodie was found in a sacke, cast into Tiber, and it was never knowne who did it: Hee had also a bastard daughter called Lucrece, which (either for that hee avowed her not for his, or otherwise) was married to one of his bastards, yet entertained by him, as Pontanus writeth:

Heere lyeih shee that Lucrece is by name, K
But Thais is indeede, also by Fame:
Pope Alexanders daughter in law shee is,
His wife most vile, his daughter eke iwis.

But above all his other bastards, hee most singularly loved that Caesar Borgia, in­somuch [Page 187] that as soone as hee came to his papacie, hee gave him his bishopricke of A Valence in Spaine, and made him cardinall, and hee was called cardinall of Va­lence: But this cardinall, having the winde in his sterne, by meanes of the Pope his father, began to cast many things in his head; as first to cast away his ecclesiasti­call state, for a temporall and lay state; then tooke he armes determining to winne all Tuscane or Hetruria, then all Italie, and after consequently, all the nations which Great and vaine des­seignes of Caesar Borgia belonged unto the empire, in the time of Iulius Caesar: so indeede hee forsooke his red cap, and in steede of cardinall of Valence, hee was called duke of Valentinois, and incontinent, by deceits and disloyalties, hee adventured upon great enterptises. Hee tooke for his device, Ou Caesar ou rien; as willing to say, that he made no account to bee a lesse lord than Iulius Caesar was; which device in the end fitted him better B than hee thought: for, in place whereas hee aspired but to one of the two, that is to bee Caesar, or altogether nothing, hee prooved to bee both: Caesar by name, and nothing in deede. Moreover, as for the meanes hee tooke to effect his disseines and imaginations, Machiavell hath discoursed them before: but hystoriographers say, that his subtill deceits and devices, were at the first suspected and discovered, and that all the potentats of Italie knew straight, the intention of him and his father, to tend unto the usurpation and domination of all Italy; and therefore prepared they to hinder them in all they could: and after that the pope his father was dead, hee was incontinent left and abandoned of every man, and had much to doe, to finde where to hide himselfe; for all his enemies, which hee had offended, arose against C him, & especially the Vrsins, which straight sought meanes to massacre him. Fabius Vrsin the son of Paul (whom Borgia had caused to be slaine) sought him every where, and encountring one of Borgia his familiars slew him, cut him in pieces, and washed his hands and mouth with his bloud: heereupon saith Sabellicus: ‘I doe not thinke, that there can bee found a more notable example than this of Caesar Borgia, to ad­monish us to governe our lives with moderation: He might have beene the second after the Pope his father, in the ecclesiasticall order, and have had rich and good benefices, as many as hee would, but forgetting himselfe too much, and importu­ning fortune too much as a mother, hee straight experimented her, a most cruell stepmother: hee refused to maintaine himselfe in a right high and honorable de­gree, D to bee altogether disgraced, and brought to nothing. But certainely there is nothing which is of lesse endurance, than an evill counselled prosperitie: for it or dinarily rejecteth great things, to bring upon it selfe, calamitous and sad things. Se­condly, hee finding himselfe destitute of friends and meanes, in the middest of the cruell enmities of men, not being able otherwise to save himselfe, when his father was dead, hee reputed it great advantage, that hee was shut up, and guarded in the Popes tower, till there was a new chosen.’ Behold the censure of this learned Sabelli­cus, touching the life and cariage of this Caesar Borgia, which is full contrary to the minde of Machiavell: For where as Machiavell counselleth a prince, to imitate the actions of Borgia, Sabellicus discounselleth it, and faith, That his life ought to serve E for an example to all men, for governing themselves as hee did, least they fall into the same downefall that hee did.

To dispute heere of the disloyaltie, crueltie, and other vices, which Borgia used in all his negotiations; and to proove, that his life ought not to bee imitated, but ra­ther detested, were a superfluous thing: For the common senses of all men, which have never so little judgement, doe sufficiently shew to all the world, that the said vi­ces [Page 188] are so detestable, that the users of them cannot but light on the like end, that F Borgia did. First, because God customably doth so reward such wicked tyrants: Se­condlie, because it ordinarily commeth to passe, that they are greatly hated of eve­ry one; insomuch as every man guards himselfe from them, as from a furious beast, and the first that can get him at advantage, thinkes he doth good to the common weale, when he riddeth him from the world; yea, each man watcheth to catch him in his snare: Therefore no man will give a prince, so dangerous and so detestable coun­sell, as to use Borgia for a pattern of imitation; unles he would carry him unto the top and fulnesse of all wickednesse and cruell tyrannie, which seemeth to bee the end whereat Machiavell aimeth, as wee shall see more at large heereafter.

But whereas Borgea (saith hee) caused the head to bee taken from Messier Ro­miro G Dorco, the executioner of his crueltie; I confesse it was true, and avow, that he did well therein: For if Messier Romiro, would excuse himselfe and say, that his master Borgia commanded him to doe such cruell executions; that were no good excuse, because hee should rather have forsaken his estate and goverment, than to commit cruelties, without any forme of justice, against the law of God and reason: The ci­vile lawes themselves willeth, that none should obey his prince, when hee comman­deth any massacre or unjust slaughter, till thirtie daies bee past after the command; that in the meane time either their friends, or the magistrate, may persuade the prince, to pacifie his choller, and to hearken unto reason. And because the law hereupon made by the emperours Gratian, Thesiodus, and Valentinian, is worthie to be marked, I doe thus translate it: ‘If it happen that heereafter (say they) wee com­mand H any rigorous vengeance contrarie to our accustomed manner against any, we will not that straight they suffer punishment, nor that our command be straight way executed: but that the execution surcease the space of thirtie daies, and that in the meane time, the magistrate keepe the prisoner safely: Given at Verone the fifteenth of the kalends of September, in the yeere of the consulship of Antonius and Sya­grius.’ It is then seene by this law, that Messier Romiro was justly punished, as a man too prompt and forward to execute crueltie: And if this law had been well observed in France, there had not beene found so many, and such rash massacres, but the com­monwealth had beene in farre better estate, and the meanes of peace, more facile I and easie.

Moreover, the prince which will propose one man alone as his patterne, and ex­emplar True pat­terns which a prince ought to propose to imitate. to imitate, hee shall finde many, which have beene as vertuous as Caesar Borgia was vicious: But seeing the greatest and most excellent persons at all times, were ever men, that is to say, not every way absolute, but defectuous and vicious some way; it is best therefore that a prince doe adict himselfe to imitate all vertuous men in generall, and each of them in their particular vertues: As if wee speake of heathen princes, hee may propose to imitate the clemencie of Iulius Caesar in using his vic­torie: for hee ever simply contented himselfe to vanquish, without crueltie, and with out bloodshed, as farre as hee could: Hee may propose to follow the moderation of K Augustus Caesar in the government of the commonweale, and his dilligence to esta­blish peace, in the whole Romane empire: For he never omitted any thing, which might bee a meane to bring all the world to peace and tranquilitie, after the civile warres, and he managed the commonweale with such moderation, as it seemed rather a civile government, than a monarchie: He had also another vertue, well worthie of imitation; for he was a good justicer, and himselfe not only dealt in making laws and [Page 189] ordinances according to the rules of justice, but also he himselfe often heard mens A causes, and judged them their right: hee was also a lover of learned men, and of knowledge, and greatly rewarded them; and these vertues of Augustus, were fit for a prince to imitate. The bountie and lenity of Traianus; the love of peace in Pius; the deepe wisedome, the humanitie and facilitie to pardon, and the love and studie of good letters in Marcus Antonine, are also worthie vertues for a prince to follow. But without any longer stay upon Paynim princes, which had not the knowledge of Christian religion, a prince shall finde sufficient to imitate, yea, and not to goe far­ther than the kings of France. Charlemaine was as generous and victorious, as ever was Caesar; yet besides this; hee was very liberall towards good people, a prince con­tinent, gentle, facile to pardon enemies, and endowed with a singular pietie and feare B of God; For hee caused ordinarily the Bible and S. Augustine to be read unto him; and nourished poore people in his pallace, which sometimes served himselfe at the table. Saint Lewis was a good and wise king, fearing God, and a good justicer; for hee often sent into all his provinces commissaries, to bee informed of the abuses, covetousnesse, and rapines of magistrates, and caused them which were found faul­tie, to bee well punished. Wee reade one thing of him, not unworthie to be remem­bred, That one day as hee was praying unto God, reciting certaine petitions of the psalmes of David, fit for that action, one comes sodainely unto him, to desire a par­don for one that had committed a fault, which was death by law; hee as sodainely graunted it; but straight falling into a verse of the psalme, which saith: Beati qui fa­ciunt C Iustitiam in omni tempore. Blessed are they which doe justice at all times: hee immediately called him againe, unto whom hee had graunted the said pardon, and revoked it, with this notable sentence: That the prince which may punish a crime, and doth it not, is as culpable himselfe, as hee that committed it; and that it is a worke of pietie, and not of crueltie to doe justice: Besides he was very chast, far from all lubricitie, and never thirsted after revenge. Charles le Sage was a very benigne and humble prince, who did nothing but by well digested counsell without rashnesse, loving the good and safetie of his subjects; hee was also a prince that very much feared God, he tooke great delight in reading the Bible, and would his people should reade it, and to that end, he caused it to bee translated into French. The Prince then D which will determine with himselfe, onely to imitate those three kings, in the a­foresaid vertues, certainely hee shall have for himselfe a true pattern and example, such as Christian prince ought to have; and not to propose to himselfe this bastard priests sonne, who was a very monster, and an exemplar of all wickednesse: I name him a bastard, because according to the divine and civile law, hee was not le­gitimate, although by the cannon law, the Pope may legitimate priests bastards, and by consequent his owne, as hath beene above touched: Yet notwithstanding this question is not without doubt, whether the Pope can legitimate his owne bastards? Question, if the pope can legiti­mate his owne chil­dren. and the reason of the doubt is, because the doctors of law hould, That legitimation is an act & exercise of jurisdiction: But it is an undoubted Maxime, that none can E exercise jurisdiction in his owne deede; & therefore it seemeth, that the illation doth not evill conclude, That the Pope cannot legitimate his owne bastards: but seeing wee are entred into this talke, wee will deeper looke into the matter, to draw out some good resolution, from this question, by the way onely of a tentative and pleasant disputation, and not of a full determination heereof: For as Cato saith amongst seri­ous things, ioyous and mery things would bee sometimes mixed.

[Page 190] Vpon this question then, namely; Whether the Pope can legitimate his own ba­stards? F there do appeare unto us many strong and ample arguments, as well in law, as in speculative Theologie, and as well for the affirmative, as the negative. For, on the affirmative, they alledge that by law and right of nature it is given to man to pro­create his like; so that when the Pope exerciseth the act of procreation, therein hee doth nothing which agreeth with the law of nature: This for the first: Secondly they alledge that Popes are called fathers, and therefore they ought to have children, for the name of father is relative to the name of the son, & one of them cannot be with­out the other: Thirdly it is a point altogether peremptorie, and such as no reply can bee made against it, namely, that by the cannons and papall constitutions, it is ex­pressely determined, that the Pope ought to bee garnished and furnished with geni­tories, G otherwise hee were incapable and unable to bee Pope, by the disposition of law, without any other declaration. Insomuch as if there happen so great a mischiefe and unhappie hap to Christendome, as by adventure they elect an eunuch Pope, all whatsoever hee doth were nothing woorth, nor of any value; so that his bulls and collations of benefices, his dispensations, fulminations, aggravations, pardons, legi­timations, and other like provisions should have no strength, vigor nor effect: which is an admirable point in law, to say that a privation of genitories should induce a nullitie of bulls, as if the Popes power depended altogether upon his genitories: But hereof some yeeld this reason, because say they; eunuches commonly are effeminate, having neither the force nor power which naturall men have, so that it should not H bee found strange, that the cannons will, that the Pope must be accounted without force and power, when he is without genitories. Others whom this reason satisfieth not, doe say, That the cannons in this place containe a right positive; and what­soever hath been constituted by a positive right, a reason cannot be rendered of it; and that we must content our selves and be satisfied, that it hath beene so ordained, That the Pope ought to have genitories, without further enquiring the reason ther­of: Yet if it were requisit to yeeld a reason of that constitution, we must rather say, it was ordained, to shut the gate of the Popedome from Papesses or shee Popes, which otherwise might have crept into that holy seat, as the Papesse Ioan did. But out of this doctrine of the cannons, which importeth, That all Popes ought to be furni­shed I with genitories, men draw out corolaries and consequences, which marvellou­sly serve to the confirmation of the affirmative of our question: For if it bee so, say the cannonists, that it is requisit by a necessitie, that the Pope must have genitories; it followeth, that it is for some end and use: For it were very absurd to say, that by the cannon law, any thing hath beene ordained without any end, because all humane actions are done to some end and utilitie, and by consequent (with stronger reason) the ordinances of the cannon law ought to tend to some end: But it is so, that ge­nitories can serve for nothing but for generation; and therfore it followeth, that the Pope ought to use them to that worke. And if any object, that he ought to use them for generation in the estate of marriage; the replie to overthrow it, is very readie, K founded upon the universall vow of the Catholicke Romane Church, whereby all Ecclesiasticall persons (and especially the Pope, chiefe of them) have made a vowe never to be married: If then it be not lawfull for the Pope by the doome of the Ca­tholicke Romane Church to be married, as also by cannonicall constitutions, it is of necessitie that he have genitories (which he cannot have, but for some use) it ne­cessarily followeth, that he may and ought to have bastards. This argument may bee [Page 191] reduced under the first forme of the first figure of Syllogismes in Barbara; which (as A the Logicians say) of all other are the best concluding arguments. But (say they) ta­king now this conclusion for a cleare and well prooved Maxime, that the Pope by disposition of right ought to have bastards; wee shall easily come to the affirmative of our question: For they are called legitimate children, which are procreated after the ordinance and permission of law and right, and therefore the Popes bastards shall be found alreadie legitimate from their creation; but much more, when farther the Pope himselfe (which can doe all in all) legitimateth them: For this legitima­tion is a superabundant act, which cannot but serve, and at the least cannot hurt; because that which is abundant, impaireth not the rest; & that each act ought to be taken to some end and profitable operation. B

They which hold the negative part of our question, have other contrarie argu­ments. The Pope (say they) is bound, as other Ecclesiasticall people are, to the gene­rall vow of the church, and therefore he ought to observe the vow as well as others; especially, that he may bee a good example to other priests: For if the Pope (who commonly is an old man) dispence with himselfe to have bastards, and doe breake chastitie and continencie required in the priestly order; what an example should that be for a companie of young priests, which are idle and at their case? To say that nature hath given men genitories for procreation, it is true (say they;) but they must be used in marriage: And if that be a good reason, we may then say, that it is lawfull for all priests to breake the vow of chastitie: But the truth is contrarie: For none C ought to make himselfe priest, nor to bind himselfe unto that vow, unlesse hee know in himselfe a power to observe it. To say also, that Popes are called fathers, this is true (say they) but it must be understood spirituall fathers, not carnall fathers: And wher­as by the holy decrees it is ordained, That the Pope ought to have genitories, that is to shew (say they) that he is a perfect man, having all his members, as it is requisit he have: And when that decree was made, that the Pope should have genitories, wee must not understand thereby a dispensation from the vow of the universall church, whereunto he remaineth alwaies tied and bound: For by the Cannons, the Pope cannot dispence against a statute and ordinance of the universall church: So that by consequent (say they) he cannot have bastards, which are not alwaies bastards & D illegitimate; and he cannot justly legitimate them, because hee cannot exercise an act of jurisdiction in his owne cause or action. These are the reasons of such as hold the negative part of our question. True it is, that they accord well, that by plenitude of power, the Pope may legitimate his owne bastards, when hee expresly declareth, that he will have it so of his full and absolute power: and herein all the Cannonists agree. For when they speake of the fulnesse of the Popes power, they speake as of a deepe pit, which is bottomelesse, from whence none can come out, when they are once in, no more than if a man were sunke into some unmeasurable & infinit deepe gulfe of the sea: For they hold, that it is an infinite thing, which hath neither end nor beginning, neither up nor downe, neither banke nor bottome, neither mid­dest E nor extremitie: yet without wading too farre in it, we will speake a little thereof something merrily: for the matter is pleasant ynough, as it hath been handled of the doctors of the facultie of Theologie, which doe not well accord in this point with the Cannonists and Decretists. Of the pow­er of the pope and of their coun­sels.

We must then presuppose and understand, that there is an old and ancient que­stion, which is not yet decided for want of a judge, that is, Which is the great master, [Page 192] the Counsell or the Pope. This question hath been many times disputed upon, but F it could never find a competent judge to dissolve it: For who durst take upon him to judge the Pope, seeing kings and emperours are his subjects and vassales (as hee saith) and doe owe him obedience, and are bound to hold his bridle and stirrops, when he mounteth on horsebacke? The subject and inferior cannot be a judge over his lord and superiour, this is certaine: And indeed there was never found king nor superiour, which durst enterprise to end that strife betwixt the Pope and the Coun­sell: so that untill this day it remaineth undecided: yet during this said strife & con­tention, the Cannonists have alwayes firmely held their opinion, which is, that the Pope is the greatest master; but the doctors of the facultie of Theologie have held and practised the contrarie, that the Councell is cheefe master: The Cannonist doctors doe found upon many reasons, which seeme not to bee weake, nor evill, to G such as will not examine things too subtillie: For (say they) the Pope and the Coun­sell represent God and the Church; and even as God is above the Church, so the Pope ought to be above the Counsell: Moreover, a certaine thing it is, that every Counsell is compounded of men in kind (I doe discreetly say, in kind, to cut off an objection, namely, that the Counsell might be composed of beasts in wit and know­ledge:) But the Pope is more than a man, and by consequent is greater than the Counsell. As for this point, that the Pope is more than a man, there need no doubt be made therof: for there are expresse texts ynough in the Cannon law, which hold C. quanto. & sim. ex de trā ­slat. epis [...]o. & resolve it in proper tearmes: These Cannonist doctors also hold upon this point, H That the Pope is neither God nor man: not that therefore they meane, that hee is a beast, but that there is a certaine thing betwixt them, which is more than a man, and lesse than God. The third argument of the Cannonists, is, that they say: That the Pope representeth the great and cheefe shepheard, and the Counsell the pettie and underling shepheards; and that therfore the Pope must needs be above the Coun­sell, as the head shepheard is above inferiour shepheards. The fourth argument is, because the keyes of Paradice were given to S. Peter, who after left them unto the Popes his successors, not to the Counsell: So that (say they) if the Pope would rigo­rously deale with them of the Counsell, hee would not suffer them to enter into Pa­radice; for, to enter into it, we must only speake unto him, seeing he only carieth the I keyes thereof; yet he will not doe his worst unto them, although they give him great occasions, calling themselves greater masters than he.

The doctors of the facultie of Theologie (to sustaine the contrarie, and to make appear, that the Counsell is greater than the Pope) use many subtile and speculative arguments, into which every man cannot enter, for their great subtiltie: for when they speak of this matter, they seeme to beat, into as smal dust as Epicures Atomes, the subtilties of S. Thomas de Aquin, and Scotus: For they destinguish the Pope from the papalitie, and say, that there is a spirituall papalitie, and a potestative papa­litie, and that both of them are not alwayes concurrent in one papall subject. For the spirituall papalitie may bee deficient in the subject, by a defectuositie of science, K and the potestative by a defectuositie in the election: After this, they give many li­mitations to the said double papalitie, according to which, they say the Popes power and actions ought to be governed. But without entring into these so subtile argu­ments, out of which I cannot dispatch my selfe with credit, I will only touch such as may best be comprehended of men of meane understanding. They first say, that the Counsell may create and depose the Pope, as hath been many times seene; therfore [Page 193] the Counsell is greater than the Pope: for hee that hath power over another, to A make and unmake, must needs be the greater master. Secondly, they say, the Coun­sell representeth the universall Church, which cannot erre in faith: and the Popes have often erred in faith, and amongst them have beene found many heretickes, which for such have been condemned in Counsels: and therfore men ought rather to preferre the Counsell, which cannot erre, before the Pope, which is subject unto error. They also say, that even after the Cannons themselves, the Pope alone cannot decide the articles and differences of faith, but that it appertaineth to the Counsell; and therefore that the Counsell which hath a more excellent power, than the Pope, must needs be reputed greater than hee. Fourthly, the Pope, although he be presi­dent of the Counsell, yet he neither hath nor ought to have but one voice, no more B than a simple bishop; and therfore all the body of the Counsell must needs be more than hee, as the body of a court of parliament is more than one of the presidents thereof. Fiftly, they say, that when our Lord promised to give the keyes of paradice, hee said thus: I will give you the keyes of the kingdome of heaven: Here you must note, that he speaketh in the plurall number, addressing his speech to many, namely to all his Apostles, not to S. Peter alone, and he speaketh also of many keyes, which can be in no lesse number than two, seeing there is a plurall number: but these two keyes, are the keyes of knowledge, and the key of power, wherof the first belongeth to the Counsell properly, yet the Pope beareth them both in his armes: without the key of knowledge; they say the other is not to bee accounted of, neither can in any C sort open the gate of Paradice, for the doubtfull crookes and bendings of the inward parts of the locke, and the hidden bolts thereof, which cannot be opened, but by the key of knowledge: insomuch, as seeing the Counsell holdeth the principall key, it followeth, that it is greater master than the Pope. These are in summe the cheefe ar­guments of these doctors, that I remember at this present: But besides these argu­ments, there is also a practise held in that cause, as well by all princes as universities, which have ordinarily judged and practised, that the Counsell is above the Pope: As in the time of king Philip le bel, the fourth of that name, Pope Boniface the eight Annal. upon Anno 12 [...]6. Monst. lib. 1. cap. 67. made a Decretall, whereby he generally forbad all emperours, kings, and princes of Christendome to levie any tribute upon the cleargie, upon paine of a present ex­communication, D without any other commissance or declaration: The king, because this was against his priviledges, (by the advice of his Counsell, the prelates of his countrey, and the facultie of Theologie of Paris) appealed from the Pope, as inferi­or, to the first future Counsell, as superior. Likewise, in the time of Pope Alexander the fift, who would needs levie tenthes upon the French cleargie, it was resolved by all the universitie of Paris likewise, to appeale from him and his bull to the first gene­rall Counsell. And to be short, appellations have been common from the Pope as inferior, to the Counsell as superior: And indeed, the doctors in Theologie hold all determinately this Theorique, That the Counsell is greater than the Pope: yea, some Theologians have gone so farre, as to say, that men may well be without the E Pope.

By the abovesaid discourse is seene, that our masters of Theologie have desired to circumscribe the infinite plenitude of the Popes power, by giving him a master, and a superior; namely, the Counsell, to keepe him within his limits. But I finde his power cut much shorter by other means: and first, upon this generall rule, The Pope 1. Limit. of the Popes power. may doe all: they adde a condition and moderation thus: Clave non errante, Provi­ded, [Page 194] that the key doe not erre. This is a moderation right pleasant, which compre­hendeth F as much or more than the rule it selfe: For if you will search the bulls, ordi­nances, and dispositions of the Pope, you shall not find one which containeth not some derogation from law and right: which derogation & repugnancie from right, the Pope doth, by vertue of his power, and because it so pleaseth him: So that accor­ding to the said condition, laid downe by the divines, we may well say; such bulls are of no value, because they containe an error in law, against which the Pope hath no strength, according to that saying, Clave non errante. Likewise, by the same modera­tion and restriction it may be said, that a great part of the Cannons and Decretals are nothing worth, because they are derogatorie from the divine law, or equitie, and naturall reason; or els, because by these Cannons and Decretals, there is added to the holy Scripture, which God hath forbidden: The key then of Popes beeing thus G falsified in so many sorts and manners (as every day it is) there can little good remain in any thing the Pope hath ever done or yet doth, but all or the most part shal be no­thing for want of power, which is the greatest nullitie that is.

There is yet another restriction or exception from the foresaid rule, which Saint 2. Limitati­on. Thomas de Aquin maintaineth firmly & stoutly, that is: He saith, That the Pope may do all things, but except that he can make no new articles of the Faith: This is an ex­ception, which stretcheth far and wide, & much diminisheth the infinit power of the Pope: For if it be true, that he can make no new articles of faith, it followeth, that we ought not to beleeve nor give credit to any thing the Pope hath invented himselfe: H and so we ought simply to hold our selfe to the word of God, and not to looke to any additions, subtractions, nor multiplications of the Pope: Wherefore by Thomas his limitation, what precepts soever are added to the Decalogue, as this: Dominicis die­bus missas audito, On Sundaies heare Masses, and such like, are utterly to be rejected: And generally, all that the Popes have ordained, which is contrarie, or in any man­ner repugnant from any place of holy Scripture, must be cast off as a new article of the faith. For we must as well in deed as with the mouth, confesse and beleeve all that is contained in the old and new Testament, and all the verses generally of the whole Bible ought to bee unto us so many articles of the Faith; although there are some more principall and necessarie than others: insomuch, as all the Popes doctrine, I which repugneth the least verse of the Scripture, is to be rejected as a new article of the faith, by the said exception of S. Thomas.

Besides the two foresaid limitations, there is yet another very common amongst 3. Limitati­on. the Theologians and Cannonists: For herein do they agree, That an hereticke Pope hath no power, nor ought to have any obedience yeelded unto him. This hath often served for a meane to cut off and to limit the Popes power: For ever when he waxed too wild, furious, and troublesome to the world, then would they cast him this bone to knaw on, to say, Thou art an hereticke: and so was hee often abandoned, so that none made any account of him: as it happened to Pope Benedict of Avignon, suc­cessor of Clement the sixt: For this Benedict sent buls to the king of France, whereby K he flatly excommunicated the king and all his realme, because the king would not suffer silver to goe out of France into Avignon: The abovesaid king had his recourse to the Vniversitie of Paris, and especially to our masters of the facultie of Theolo­gie, which straight concluded and resolved, That Pope Benedict was an heretick un­worthie the name of a Pope, and that men ought not to obey him, his bulls being of no value, as granted by one without all power: and therefore according to that re­solution, [Page 195] the said buls were rent and torne in pieces, and all obedience denied the A Pope. You may demaund why this Pope was called an hereticke: I answere, that I know not, for our hystorians have not set downe in what articles of the Faith he er­red: And it may be, that of purpose they imposed the name of an hereticke, and not because he was so, for he knew nothing of the Scriptures, neither knew he what the name of an hereticke meant: yet for such was hee accounted and pronounced, al­though he knew no Theologie, nor had ever seene any thing of the Bible, but onely that which is drawne out of it, and inserted in the Missall and Breviarie: He was also a reasonable good clarke in the Cannons, yet not one of the profoundest therein, but he knew sufficient for his provision. Likewise, the Pope Boniface, of whome wee have before spoken, was declared an hereticke by the said Vniversitie and facultie B of Theologie, not that he erred in the Faith (for it was a thing whereof hee had lit­tle care) but because he would needs enterprise upon the kings priviledges: But as soone as he was declared an hereticke, all the kingdome of France retired from his obedience. Pope Iulius the second, was not declared an hereticke by the Vniversitie, because they thought it better so to proove him in Italie at a Counsell there, that so Italie it selfe might also withdraw from his obedience: And indeed (do the Pope what he could) a Counsell was held at Pise, where he was endighted for an heretick, but he died before the sentence was given. Breefely, of old it was a good and gentle meanes to bridle the unmeasurable power of the Pope, to declare and descrie him for an hereticke: Our masters also of that time (I know not what they do now) defi­ned C an hereticke to be he, which either in fact or opinion doth contrarie to the do­ctrine of the church: So it was very easie to convince Popes of heresie: for although they maintained no opinions contrarie to the doctrine of the Catholicke Romane faith, yet no doubt they did many things reprehensible by that doctrine; and that sufficed straight to make them heretickes.

You have heretofore understood the controversie betwixt the Pope & the Coun­sell, Monstrel. lib. 2. cap. 231, 237. lib. 3. cap. 5. 103. 112. and how the Counsels favorers & partakers have often beaten down the Popes hornes, and cut his combe: Now will I recite, how that the Pope got a good revenge once: It was in the yeare 1437, when Pope Eugenius the fourth held the Romane seat: At that time a Counsell was kept at Basil, by which amongst other things, it D was decreed, That Eugenius should loose his Popedome, & in his place should come Ame de Savoy, called Pope Foelix, who a little before had resigned to his son Lewis his dutchie, lands, and seignories to become an hermite at Ripaille, a solitarie place in Chablais. This Pope beeing chosen, Eugenius begun straight to cause very rigo­rous bulls to be published against him, and anathematized him, if hee continued to call himselfe Pope. Foelix the new Pope stood stiffe, and all the Counsell for him, which was translated from Basil into the towne of Geneva, where this Pope held Pope Foelix sate at Ge­neva. his seat, and from thence dispatched as forcible bulls against Eugenius, & made no account of his anathematizations; but hoped well that hee should remaine master and head of the Church (at the least on this side the mounts) if once he could place E his seat at Avignon, as other Popes had done: But because he placed his seat at Ge­neva, the king of Fraunce would not depart from the obedience of Eugenius Pope of Rome, although he something enclined to the Counsell of Basil, and approved the resolutions made there. Moreover, he did so much, that in the end hee agreed Pope Foelix with Pope Nicholas, successor of Eugenius, in the year 1447: And Pope Foelix contented himselfe to be the Popes perpetuall vicar in Savoy, after hee had [Page 196] enjoyed tenne yeares the Popedome; having alwayes his seat at Geneva, as well of F Pope, as of the Popes great perpetuall vicar. And after this concord made, Foelix acknowledged Pope Nicholas for true Pope, as also did all they which had elected Foelix, & remained with him at Geneva: Therfore from that time forward was there Felix sate Pope at Geneva. no Pope at Geneva, neither would they of Geneva receive any into their citie again as I heare. And for as much as the Pragmaticke sanction (which were certaine arti­cles touching the matter of benefices, which were resolved upon in the said Coun­sell) greatly diminished the Popes revenues, and the Bullists and Datances at Rome; the Pope never ceased, till he had abolished it in Fraunce, by the meanes of a bishop of Arras, a great favourite of the kings, whome the Pope made cardinall, giving him a red hat in recompence of his paines. So from that time was aboli­shed G the said Pragmaticke, which had endured and was after a sort observed & kept in France for the space of thirtie yeares, to the great discontentment of the nobles and of such as were rich (who could not so easily and fitly, whilest the Pragmaticke lasted, abuse the Pops bulls and indulgences) as they did before and since. True it is, that whilest the Pragmaticke was in force (which favoured learned men) the no­ble and rich men by quirkes and litigious contentions of law, so troubled the poore graduates, that they were commonly repelled from the fattest benefices: for officers of justice have commonly more respect to the money of the rich, than to the lear­ning of the poore: and they found it an unseemely thing, to give to some poore master of art, or to some bachelour or doctor in Theologie, an abbey or bishoptick H of ten or twentie thousand pound a yeare: They thought such fat and pleasant mor­sels were not for men of base qualities, which had not used to keepe abbots and bishops tables in Sorbonne, or other colledges. Therefore that rule of equitie, which wils, that poore & base men should not soare & mount so high, as they might become too rich, and so destroy and corrupt themselves, caused our master of the parliament still to drive away all poore masters of Art, bachelours, doctors, and li­centiates in Theologie, and in the decrees, from great and fat benefices, notwith­standing the Pragmatick sanction: but they maintained them to enjoy cures, chap­pels, monachall portions, and other little prebends of small revenue: And surely, this equitie of the courts of parliament was great and admirable: For they consi­dered, I that there is nothing that corrupteth more, vertuous men, nor that sooner causeth them to be idle & given to voluptuousnesse and other vices, than the great abundance of goods and riches; and that there is nothing more proud than a base proud man, which suddainly ascendeth into some great degree of honour and ri­ches: And therefore esteemed they, that it was more expedient to give the good and rich benefices to noble and rich people, than to this poore and base masters of art, and doctors, Sorbonnists and Decretists: for these would but have been cor­rupted and made proud thereby, and the noble and rich men could not have been more corrupted, neither prouder than they were alreadie. But finally, the Prag­maticke having been after a sort practised and used by the space of thirtie yeares, K it was quashed and abolished by king Charles the seventh: And a certaine time af­ter, Pope Pius the second (who in poesie had before beene another Ronsard, and was called also Aeneas Silvius) utterly condemned to all reproch, that poore prag­maticke sanction, namely, to bee publickely trailed and drawne through the streets of the towne of Rome, in token and signe of irrision, ignominie, and infamie there­of, and of the Counsell that made it, which so durst fasten himselfe unto the [Page 197] Popes sanctitie: After sentence was pronounced, this poore Pragmaticke was A ignominiously drawne through the towne of Rome: And there might you have seene all the Dotaries, Bullists, Copists, and Notaries, about the court of Rome, leape, daunce, laugh, gibe, and mocke at this poore Pragmaticke, in re­venge of the losses and domages which they had by it sustained. And heerein truly the Counsell received a great checke, which made it well appeare to the Pope, That hee was greater master than the Counsell, whatsoever our masters, Occham, Gingencourt, & Gerson have said, written & maintained to the contrary, & whatso­ever all the facultie of Theologie have resolved, that the Counsell is greater than the Pope.

The Pope not onely sayth he is greater than the Counsell, but also, than all the B kings and emperours of the world, as is prooved by many of the Popes Cannons and Decretals: and therefore, upon this point it is not amisse to rehearse the sto­rie of Pope Innocent the third, and of an emperour of Constantinople, which raig­ned about the yeare 1200. This Pope had written certaine letters unto that empe­rour, whereby he rebuked, and spoke to him as to his varlet: The emperour made him a modest answere, sending him word, That hee was much abashed, that hee should write unto him in so loftie and imperious a stile, and that therein hee obser­ved not the commandement of Saint Peter his predecessor, who wils and enjoynes all persons to obey and be subject unto the king, as to the most excellent, and unto magistrates under him, his deputies: concluding by this place, That the Pope C ought to acknowledge himselfe to be subject unto the emperour, and not so brave­ly to speake to him, as to his inferiour. But Pope Innocent failed not to frame him this answere: ‘Thy imperiall sublimitie marvelleth that wee durst rebuke thee, be­cause thou hast read in S. Peter, prince of the Apostles, That every man ought to be subject unto the king, as to the most excellent, and to magistrates, by him esta­blished: But thou hast not well considered the person of him that speaketh: For the Apostle writeth to his subjects, That in all humilitie they will yeeld him obe­dience: and when he sayth, To the king, as the most excellent; it must be understood of the temporaltie: for without doubt, the Pope in spirituall things is the more excellent, and is so much the more to be preferred before kings and emperours, as D the soule is to be preferred before the bodie: And if thou haddest read that which is written of the sacerdotall and priestly prerogative, thou mightest better have knowne this: for it is written, Behold I have appointed thee over nations and king­domes, that thou mayest root out, dissipate, build, and plant: Thou oughtest also further to know, That God hath placed in the firmament of Heaven two great lights, the Sunne to lighten the day, and the Moone to lighten the night: Likewise for the firmament of Heaven, that is, for the universall Church, God hath made two lights, that is to say, two powers, namely, the Papall, which lighteneth the day, and that is spirituall things: and the Royall or imperiall, which lighteneth the night, that is to say, terrene and earthly things: If then thy imperiall greatnesse E did well understand these things, thou shouldest know as great difference to bee betwixt us and thee, as is betwixt the Sunne and the Moone: and that kings and emperours are subject under the Pope, as the Moone is under the Sunne.’ Behold in summe Pope Innocents answere unto the emperour of Constantinople; which containeth a profound Theologicall exposition, to make flies laugh. About this time there were also erected and set up in the Church two strong pillars of the [Page 198] Papall power and doctrine; namely, the orders of the begging Friers, and the F Decretals.

For the last point which we will touch of the Popes power, shall bee that which the learned Poet George Buchanan saith, who speaking of this matter, toucheth the white: for he saith, That the ancient governours of Rome (which were kings, con­suls, and emperours (have subjugated and vanquished both earth and sea; but that this was nothing, or small in regard of the moderne dominators of Rome, which are the Romane bishops: For the first bishops of Rome, as S. Peter, S. Clement, and certaine others by their good and holy life gained heaven and paradice, which is alreadie more than the earth and the sea, which the old Romanes conquered: But what have the last bishops done, as Pope Gregorie the seventh, Boniface the eight, G Silvester the second, Iulius the second, Iohn the two and twentieth, Alexander the sixt the father of Caesar Borgia above mentioned, and other Popes their like, they have done more than their predecessor bishops, or the ancient kings, emperours, or consuls of Rome: for they have valiantly conquered hell (saith Buchanan) and have Popes have conquered hell. made themselves masters and peaceable possessors thereof, notwithstanding all the forces and resistance of Pluto and all his sequell, which would not suffer, that Popes should dominier in hell, but would only receive them as his vassales: But the chance hath happened contrarie; for the Pope is at this day, and hath beene long time, a peaceable dominator and lord of hell, and Pluto is no more but his vassale, and the simple executioner of his commandements, and as it were the gaoler of the Popes H prisons: insomuch, as when at this day the Pope dispatcheth buls of pardons, or croisadoes (as did Pope Leo the tenth in his time) he commandeth the angels of pa­radice to go seeke the soules of prisoners in hel (after once their ransome be paid) & Pluto and his officers to open their gates, and set them at libertie without contradi­ction, upon paine to loose their charges and estates: And thinke you that Pluto durst disobey one only word of the Pope his soveraigne? It is very certaine, that he durst not once grunt nor contradict him in any thing, but (all he can possible) maintaine his amitie, and to doe him all the services he can. Here is the substance of that which Buchanan speaketh of the Popes power, in these verses:

In alder time with yron sharpe, and by their navall warre, I
Old Rome subdued sea and land, though nigh it were, or farre:
But after that, the Romane bishops soar'd to heaven on hie,
By knowledge, bountie, patience eke, and their humilitie:
No more remaines to their succeeding Popes, but only hell,
Whereof possessors are they sure, they have it conquered well.

8. Maxime. A

‘A prince neede not care to bee accounted cruell, if so bee that hee can make himselfe bee obeyed thereby. B’

Caesar Borgia (saith Messier Nicholas) was reputed cruell, yet by his crueltie hee brought into order, and into his obedience the Cap. 17 of the Prince. whole countrie of Romania: Wherefore the prince neede take no great care, to see himselfe in reputation to be cruell, so that thereby he maintaine his people in a faithfull union and obedience. For the cruell and rigorous executions of a prince, doe but privately hurt certaine particulars, which ought not to be feared; and the two great lenitie of C a pitifull prince, is the cause of infinit evils, which grow up and engen­der in their kingdomes, as murderes, thefts, and other like: Insomuch as a man may well say, that a pitifull prince, is cause of more evills than a cruell prince. The example of the emperour Severus may serve vs for proofe heereof, for hee was very cruell, and by his crueltie over­came Albinus & Niger, & the most part of their friends, & so wrought himselfe a peaceable empire, which hee long time held, beeing well o­beyed, and reverenced of all the world. D

I Have heeretofore shewed, how Caesar Borgia, by his crueltie obtained for enemies, almost all the potentates of Italie, and thereby so well assured his estate, that incontinent as his father was dead, he was invironed with enemies, destitute of friends, despoiled of the lands he had usurped, and constrained to hide himselfe to save his life. This tragicall issue accordeth not very well, with that which Machiavell heere maintaineth, saying B [...]rgia was erected by the credit of his fa­ther & not by his cru­eltie. That the crueltie of Borgia, was the cause that hee got the peaceable domination of Romania: For to say truth, it was not his crueltie (which easilie might have beene resisted, Borgia of himselfe beeing without power) but it was the favour and feare of E the pope his father, who commanded the French powers, and made himselfe feared of all christian princes. For at that time men feared more the popes simple buls, than at this day they feare either the keies of S. Peter, or the sword of S. Paul (which hee said hee had) or all his fulminations, excommunications, agravations, reagravati­ons, interdicts, anathematizations, or all the forces and meanes hee can make. And [Page 200] who would make account of all those at this day? seeing even the Romanes them­selves F make but a mocke of them. But in the time of Alexander Borgia, yea in the time of Pope Iulius the eleaventh his successor, all that the Pope would and ordai­ned, was held of christian princes for an ordinance as from the mouth of God, yea, even when the Pope ordained things manifestly wicked: as when Iulius delive­red as a prey, the whole kingdome of France, and the lands of the kings allies. For the king of England, of Arragon, and the emperour Maximilian, beleeved all, that it was a sufficient cause to set upon the king and his allies, and that it was even as an ex­presse commandement of God. The world then, and even princes, being then over­taken with that beastly superstition and follie, wee neede not bee abashed, that Caesar Borgia, had the meanes to possesse Romania, under the shadow and favour of the G Pope his father, & that with the aide of the king of France: and it was plainly seene, that that good hap to subjugate Romania, proceeded from favour, and not from crueltie (as Machiavell saith) because as soone as that favour ceased, all his case was overthrowne, and it was straight seene, that his utter ruine arived, as is said. I doe then maintaine cleane contrary from the Maxime of Machiavell, and say, That cruel­tie is a vice which ordinarily bringeth [...]o princes the ruine of them, & their estates, and that clemencie and gentlenes is the true meanes, to maintaine and establish a prince firme and assured in his estate.

For proofe heereof reasons are cleare and manifest: for wee call crueltie, all exe­cutions which are committed upon men, their lands and goods, without any forme H of justice, or against all right and equitie: heereupon it followeth, that as violence is directly contrarie to right and equitie, so also is crueltie, and that crueltie is no other thing but manifest violence. But according to the Maximes, even of philosophers, No violent thing can endure; So it followeth, that an estate founded upon cruelty, can­not long endure. Moreover crueltie is alwaies hated of every one; for although it bee not practised upon all particulars, but upon some onely; yet they upon whom it is not exercised, cease not to feare, when they see it executed upon their parents, friends allies and neighbours: But the feare of paine and punishment, engendreth hatred; for one can never love that, whereof hee feares to receive evill, especiallie when there is a feare of life, losse of goods and honours, which are the things wee hold most I precious: and of that which wee hate, wee by the same meanes desire the losse and entier ruine, and search out, procure and advance it with all our power. But it is im­possible when all a people shooteth at one same marke, that a tyrant or cruell prince (for all is one) can long endure, or that hee can doe so much, as there shall not arive unto him, some disastre or evill fortune: And if sometimes it please God to suffer him to live long, it is to cause him to take the higher leap, that in the end hee may have the sorer fall: As wee see it well painted in poets tragoedies, where many tyrants are seene (which enduring long time, have done no other thing during the space of their life, but knit cordes, fasten gallowes in some imminent places, whet swords and dag­gers, & temper poisons) for afterward to drinke the poison, to stab the dagger in their bosomes, or hang themselves on the gibet, in the sight of all the world; which laugh­ing and mocking them, say, it is well employed: & we must not say, that such tragoe. dies are but poeticall fictions; for hystories are full of such tragicall ends of tyrants, which have delighted to shed their subjects bloud, and to handle them cruellie. Cruell peo­ple are commonly co­wards.

This vice of crueltie, proceeding from the weaknesse of such as can not com­mand their choller and passions of vengeance, and suffer themselves to bee gover­ned [Page 201] by them, never happened in a generous and valiant heart, but rather alwaies in A cowardly and fearefull hearts. Therfore when one day, one advertised the emperour Mauricius, that the captaine Phocas entended and wrought evill against him; and another maintained that he was but a coward, and too fearefull to bring any thing to passe: the emperour Mauricius answered, ‘So much the more ought I to take heed: for those cowardly and fearefull people, when they enterprise a crueltie, and that they have advantage, they can never hold any measure therein.’ And this vice of crueltie (saith Marcellinus) may be called the ulcer of the soule, proceeding of Amian. Mar. lib. 27. feeblenesse of the mind, and cowardise of the heart: And therefore sicke and disea­sed people are more chollericke than they that are in health, and miserable and des­perate men, more than they which are at their ease and contented. And hereupon B (saith Marcellinus) that the cause why Valentinian was a cruell man, came because of the choller, which so ruled in him, that as soone as any spoke unto him any word that displeased him, he changed colour, voice, and gate, and could not commaund himselfe, nor keepe from committing many cruelties and injustices, his judgement was so with choller oppressed. Finally, it was the cause of his death: For one day the Quadians demanded peace of him, and by their embassadors excusing themselves of a rebellion, he began to speak to those embassadors in so great anger, rehearsing his kindnesse & humanitie before used unto them, that at once his voice and words failed him, as if he had been strucken with a deadly blow, and withall begun to send out a mortall sweat: he was incontinent carried to a chamber, and laid upon a bed, C and by the advice of one of his physicians, a veine was opened, but it was not possi­ble to draw a drop of blood out, the said choller had so burned and dried his inward parts: so he died. A notable example, for princes to take that consideration of their health, that they never suffer choller nor crueltie to abide in them: for such pas­sions once taking an habit in them, they burne & rost their entrailes, and so will not suffer them to live long. But they ought further to consider, that such vices also doe soile and defile the reputation of that generositie and magnanimitie that ought to be in a prince: For we have seene, and doe ordinarily see, that chollericke and cruell men have almost alwayes been and are cowards and fearefull, but generous and vali­ant men are gentle and full of humanitie. Princes ought further to consider, that if D they be once spotted with crueltie, they never make good end; and God will have it so: because he that committeth crueltie, violateth the divine law, which forbiddeth to shed mans bloud, and to sley, but by forme of justice: He also violateth the law of nature; for he destroyeth his like, which nature hath produced, and which hath gi­ven that instinct even to brute beasts, not to destroy beasts of their own kind; there is also a precept of the law of nature, not to offend another: Hee likewise violateth the civile law, whereby is forbidden all murder and homicide, upon paine of death: Is it then any marveile, if sanguinarie and bloodie princes have commonly evill ends, seeing they violate the divine, naturall, and civile lawes, approved of all people and nations. E

There was never a more cruell nor a more cowardly man, than Caligula the em­perour: for he quaked and trembled as he went to warre to heare speake onely of his Sueton in Calig. cap. 45. 46. 47. [...]2 58 59. enemies, without seeing them. Making warre in Almaigne, in a forrest nigh unto him, he caused certaine Apostata Almaignes to lie in ambush, and commaunded one of them when hee was at dinner, to declare unto him that the enemie was dis­covered in the said forrest: As soone as he heard this, hee incontinent sounded the [Page 202] trumpet, and placing his battaile in array, he caused them to assault that poore for­rest, F which he made to be cut all downe: and having so obtained this goodly victo­rie against this forrest, he came backe againe with great vaunt and fiercenesse, ta­xing and reproching the cowardise of such as remained behind, and were not pre­sent at this great overthrow: Was not this an act of a generous & a valiant prince? Another time he caused to ordaine and place his battaile strong and in good order to fight, and commanded that every one should march in his ranke, and that al their artillerie and all other furniture for an assault, should be prepared for a ready fight, yet no man knew his intent what hee would doe: When his armie had marched in order of battaile to the shore of the great Ocean sea (which was nigh) hee then com­manded al his souldiers and men of warre to fish, & gather into their hose, bosomes, G and murrions, as many oysters as they could carrie, saying, it was the spoile and boo­tie conquered from the Ocean, which hee would have to bee carried to the Capitoll of Rome, in signe of that notable victorie obtained against that great Ocean: Also he caused to be builded upon this shore an high tower, for a memoriall of this hap­pie journey. After, hee sent to Rome to prepare against his comming a goodly tri­umph as could be, to triumph upon the great Ocean, which he had so valiantly van­quished, and the spoiles thereof did bring to the Capitoll. Are not these heroicall acts to overthrow a forrest, and fish for oysters? For crueltie, whereof this monster was full, I will say no other thing, but that he had alwayes a servant expert in cutting off of heads, which ordinarily at his dinners and suppers beheaded poore prisoners H in his presence, and for his pleasure. I leave to speake of so many good people as he brought to their deaths: for I should never have done to rehearse all his cruelties. His end was, that his people conspired against him, taking for their watchword Re­doubles, when they all fell upon him, and massacred him with thirtie blows in his age of 29 yeares, after he had raigned three yeares and ten months.

The crueltie of Nero, which caused to be slaine Agrippine his mother, Britanni­cus his brother, Octavia his wife, Seneca his master, and all the most vertuous and good people of Rome, even of the Senate, are notorious ynough, and should bee too long to recite: And never man was more feminine and cowardly, than he: for he was never found in any warre: But he had good and valiant lieutenants, which acqui­ted I themselves well, whilest he played upon the citheron amongst singers and com­mon players of enterludes. His death was strange: For being abandoned of all the world, but of some four or five servants, he sought to hide himselfe in a litle house of pleasure in the fields, which appertained to Phaon, one whom he had enfranchised: being there, his men pressed him to slay himselfe quickly, least he fell alive into the hands of his enemies: for none of them would doe him the pleasure, as to slay him: Then he commanded them to make for him a grave, and laid him downe upon the earth for a measure thereof: but whilest they were making of the grave, behold a lac­quey of Phaons came, who brought a decree from the Senat, whereby Nero was de­clared an enemie of the Commonwealth, with commandement to seeke him out, K & to punish him as a publick enemie: After he had read this decree, he took his two daggers, and proved whether they both were sharpe ynough: after, hee put them in the sheath, saying his houre was not yet come: yet straight hee prayed his men, that they would begin a little to weep & lament. Soon after, he desired, that some of them would shew him by example how hee should sley himselfe: But perceiving knights arriving, and doubting they came to take him, hee gave himselfe a stroke with his [Page 203] dagger in the throat, with the help of Secretarie Epaphroditus: & he being yet alive A there entred a centenier, which fained, that he came to succour him; unto whom hee answered, that it was too late, & the last word that he spake, was Voila la foy; See what faith: He died at the age of 30 yeares: And it was an admirable thing, that he which had caused so many others to be slaine in his time, could never find a person, that in a need would sley him, but was forced to doe it himselfe. A thing also worthie it is to be marked, that at his last sigh hee complained, that none kept faith with him, with him I say, that was full of all disloyaltie: And wherfore should they? do tyrants think, that men will keepe faith with them, seeing they themselves breake it with every one: If they so thinke, they are deceived: For to abandon a tyrant, and not any way to sup­port him, is to observe faith to his countrey and to the Commonweale. B

We have before in another place discovered the cruelties and unhappie ends of Commodus & of Bassianus Caracalla, both which were faint-hearted & cowardly prin­ces, never performing any warlike act, or which tasted of any generositie or courage. Wee may number with them Didius Iulianus, Heliogabalus, Gallienus, Maxentius, Philippus, Phocas, Carinus, Zeno, and many other sluggish and faint-hearted princes, that never did any good thing, which also by their crueltie have brought themselves to miserable ends; for they died violent deaths, and raigned not long. We may also adde to those examples of princes (or rather tyrants, which were very cruell & of litle generositie) the example of Herodes crueltie towards his children, whereof wee have spoken before: The example also of the emperor Tiberius, who constrained men to C die by languishing in prison, by no means willing to accelerate their deaths, though Sueto. in Tib. cap. 6. they praied him; & he tooke from them their sollace, to studie, reade, or to talke with any person. The examples also of the emperours, Otho, Vitellius, Domitianus, Macri­nus, and other like, all which were very cruell, and little generositie in them; they all in small time finished their lives, and by the sword. But for as much as the death of Domitian is worthy the noting, to shew That tyrants cannot shun the divine justice, I will here recite how he was massacred. First wee must understand, that this cruell ty­rant Sueto. in Do­mitian, cap. 10, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, &c. caused many great lords to die, which were the principall senators of Rome, and even some which had had the consularie dignitie, yet had they done nothing that merited so much as a reprehension: as Cerecalis, Salvidienus, Glabrio, which he caused D to die, saying, that they were enterprisers of novelties: without either proofe or vaila­ble conjecture: He made also to die Aelius Lamia (whose wife Domitia Longina he had taken from him) only because he spoke these words: Alas I say not a word: & Salvius Cocceanus, because he celebrated the day of the nativitie of the emperour Otho his uncle: & Metius Pomposianus, because there was a brute, that he was born in a royall constellation; and going to a certaine place, he caried with him a figure of the world, and the orations of kings and captaines, which he found in Titus Livius, and because he imposed those names, Mago and Anniball to certain his slaves: He also caused to die Salustius Lucullus, because he had invented a new forme of halberds, which hee called Lucullienes: and Iunin Rusticus, because he had written the praises of two ve­ry E good men deceased, called Taetus Trasea and Elvidius Priscus, whom Rusticus had called most holy persons; and therefore were all philosophers banished both Rome and Italie: He caused his cosin Flavius Sabinus to die, because the trumpeter or com­mon criet, had (according to custome) openly proclaimed, That he was chosen new emperour, & he should have said, new consull: he put to death also Flavius Clemens, another cousin, for a light matter of suspition: & many other great cruelties towards [Page 204] good people and men of qualitie, which for prolixitie I rehearse not: yet will I say; F that to make himselfe be the more feared and reverenced, and to heape up his exe­crable wickednesse, when his officers made any publicke crie, or sent any command to the people, the subscription was alwayes thus: Your Lord and God commands it so to be done: In the end seeing himselfe evill beloved of all the world; he would needs Admirable meanes of Domitians death. know of the divines and astrologers, what should be his end: hee sent for a very fa­mous astrologer, called Ascletarion, of whom hee demaunded when and how hee should die? Ascletarion answered him: Sir, not to hide any thing, I know by art, and I find that you shall be soone slaine: And thou, said Domitian, of what death shalt thou die? Sir, answered he, I find by art, I shall be eaten with dogs: Well (replied Domitian) I will keepe thee well from that adventure: and straight to convince him of a lie, he commanded him to be slain, & to be buried, & after, his body to be burnt into ashes, G according as the Romanes used to burie their dead: But it happened after hee was slaine, as they thought to have burnt his bodie into ashes, in a publicke place, the fire being lighted to burne the body, there suddenly arose a great tempest, which ejected the bodie (halfe burnt) out of the fire, which incontinent was torne in pieces and eaten of dogs. This beeing reported to Domitian, hee was much afraid of this hap: So that as well, for that Ascletarion had said unto him, as for that other diviners had told him the day and houre he should be slaine, he thought it good to stand up­on his guard: and the better to see them which came behind him, he caused to floore all his gallerie (where he most often walked) with a kind of shining stone, from which H as in a glasse there proceeded such a brightnesse, as hee might easily see whatsoever was behind him. The foretold-day being come, and the houre approching (which was five) he asked what of the clocke it was: one expressely answered him that it was six of the clocke, to assure him that the danger was past: but about that houre of five there knocked at his chamber dore one Stephanus his chamberlaine (who was one of the conspirators against him) his left arme hanging in a scarfe, as if it had been hurt, signifying to him that he would declare the conjuration entended against him. This was the cause that Domitian suffered him to enter: who straight after his entry, af­ter reverence, presented unto him a request, containing the discourse of the conjura­tion, whereof he let him reade a good part; at which, seeing him astonished, he stab­bed I a poinard in his bellie: wounded as he was, he would faine have revenged him­selfe, but his other houshold servants entered to massacre him, giving him seven mortall wounds. Behold an admirable example to shew, that there is no prudence nor humane foresight, that can hinder that the judgements of God be not executed upon tyrants. But if any demand, how diviners and astrologers could so justly fore­tell the death of the emperour Domitian: I answere, that we must beleeve, that this said prediction was not by art or science: but the evill spirit would give boldnesse of enterprising, unto Domitians enemies, in making them know by frivolous divinati­ons his fatall houre, that they might beleeve, the starres and heaven, to aid their en­terprise. And God above (who serves himselfe with such meanes as pleaseth him, to exercise his justice) gives efficacie to the spirit of error. The same effect came of the K divination of Caracalla: for it was the cause that Macrinus enterprised to sley him, although he never before thought of it, till the astrologers declared their divina­tion; nay he would never have done that enterprise, if that divination had not con­strained and drawne him unto it.

Master Philip de Comines reciteth to this purpose a very memorable hystorie, [Page 205] that happened in his time: He saith there was at Naples a king called Alphonsus, a A bastard of the house of Arragon, who was marvellous cruell, a traitour and dange­rous: for none could know when he was angry, he could so well manage his counte­nance, yea, and often betray men, as he made them good cheare: and he was a man wherein there was neither grace nor mercie, neither had hee any compassion of the poore people: This king Alphonsus had a sonne also as wicked as he, called Ferrand, who had found means to bring before him (under his fathers assurance) many prin­ces and barons of the countrey, to the number of foure and twentie; and amongst them the prince de Rosane his brother in law, having married his sister; all which hee caused to be imprisoned, notwithstanding the faith and assurance which he had gi­ven them, insomuch, as some remained foure or five and twentie yeares prisoners. B As soone as the king Alphonsus was dead, and Ferrand his sonne was king; the first thing hee did at his comming to the crowne, was to massacre all those said great princes and barons (which he himselfe had imprisoned, during his fathers life) by a Moorean slave of Affrica, which he rewarded, and straight after the execution sent him into his countrey. This king Ferrand, or Ferdinand, having newes of the said murder, (as the king of Fraunce Charles the eight, enterprised the conquest of Na­ples) judging himselfe unworthie to be king, because of his great and abhominable cruelties, sent embassadors to the king to agree and to be at an accord with him, of­fering to yeeld himselfe tributarie to the crowne of Fraunce, to hold the kingdome of Naples of him, and to pay him 50000 crownes yearely: But the king, who knew C there was no fidelitie in the Arragonian race of Naples, would enter into no trea­tie with the king Ferdinand, who being in dispaire to be ever able to hold that king­dome against the king of Fraunce, having his owne subjects his enemies, died for sorrow and dispaire, and left his sonne Alphonsus his successor. This Alphonsus the new king was as wicked as his father, and had alwayes shewed himselfe pittilesse and cruell, without faith, without religion, and without all humanitie; insomuch, as per­ceiving that king Charles approched Rome, his conscience also judging himselfe to be an unworthy king, he resolved to flie into Spain, and to professe himselfe a monke in some monasterie: But before hee fled, hee caused to be crowned king at Naples a young sonne of his, called Ferdinand, who was not yet hated in the countrey, his D nailes beeing not yet either strong or long ynough to doe evill: This done, hee fled into Sicilie, and from thence to Valence in Spaine, where he tooke the habite of a monke, and in a little time after died of an excoriation of gravell. But it was mar­vellous that this cruel tyrant should be so seized of feare, as he should go in no good order away, but left all his moveable goods, and almost all his gold and silver in his castle at Naples: And this feare proceeded to him from a faintnesse of heart; for (as Comines saith) never cruell man was hardie: And when one desired him onely to stay three dayes to packe up his goods: No no (said he) let us quickly depart from hence, heare you not all the world crie Fraunce, Fraunce? Men may see how an evill consci­ence leaves a man never in quiet: This wicked man (knowing, that by his crueltie hee E had procured the hatred of his subjects, the wrath of God, and the enmitie of all the world) was tormented in his conscience, as of an infernall furie, which ever after fretted his languishing soule in the poore infected and wasted bodie. And to end this tragoedie: straight after he had saved himselfe, the king of Fraunce obtained the kingdome of Naples: And a little while after, the said young Ferdinand sonne of the said Alphonsus, died of a feaver and a flux: So that within the space of two yeares, [Page 206] God did justice on foure kings of Naples, two Alfonses, and two Ferdinands, be­cause F of their strange cruelties, which were accompained with disloyall impietie and oppression of subjects, for alwaies those keepe company together.

A like punishment happened by the conduction and judgement of God, to that Comines lib. 1 cap. 132. 133. and Bellay lib. 1. of his memories. cruell king Richard of England, king Edward the fourth his brother. This king Ed­ward deceasing, left two sonnes and two daughters all yong, and in the tutelage and goverment of Richard duke of Glocester his brother: This duke desiring for himselfe the crowne of England, caused his two nephewes cruelly to be slaine, and made a re­port to goe, that by chance they fell of a bridge, and so were slaine; His two nieces he put into a religion of Nunnes, saying they were bastards: because (saith hee) the dead king Edvard their father, could not lawfullie espouse their mother, for that be­fore G hee had promised to espouse a gentlewoman, which hee named; and the bishop of Bath beeing present, protested it was so, and the promises of marriage were made betwixt his hands. The duke of Glocester having thus dispatched both his nephewes and nieces, caused himselfe to be crowned king of England, and because many great lords of England, murmured at this crueltie; this new tyrant king (which named him­selfe king Richard the third) made to die of sundrie deaths, all such as hee knew had murmured against him or his tyrannie: After all this, when hee thought hee had a sure estate in the kingdome, it was not long before God raised him up for enemie, the earle of Richmond, of the house of Lancaster, who was but a pettie lord in power, without silver and without force, who but a little before was detained prisoner in Bre­taigne: To whom certaine lords of England, sent secretly, that if he could come into H England, but with two or three thousand men, all the people would come to him, & make him king of England. The earle of Richmond, hasted to king Charles the eight then raigning in France, by whose permission hee levied people in Normandie, to the number of about 3000 men; after, hee embarked with the troupe, and tooke his course to Dover, wher king Richard attended him, with 4000 men; but God conduc­ted that busines, sending a contrary wind, which landed the said earle in the northern parts of England; where without all interruption landing, they which sent for him met him, & by consent marched toward London: King Richard met him on the way with 40000 or 50000: as they came nigh one another to give battaile, the most part I of king Richards people turned to the earle of Richmonds side: Yet that king (who despaired otherwise to bee maintained in his estate, than by a victory upon his ene­mie) gave battaile to the earle, and was slaine fighting, after hee had raigned about a yeere: And the earle of Richmond went right to London with his victory, and the slaying of that tirant: Then tooke he out of the monastery, king Edwards two daugh­ters, whereof hee espoused the elder, and was straight made king of England, called Henry the seaventh, grandfather of the most ilustrious Queene Elizabeth, at this present raigning.

Alfonsus king of Castile, the 11 of that name, who began his raigne Anno 1310, & Fr [...]isar. lib. 1. cap. 230. 231 241. 242 243. raigned 40 yeeres, left after him Peter & Henry his bastard sons. This king Peter was K a prince very cruell & inhumane, & amongst other cruelties he committed, he cau­sed to die Madame Blanche his wife, daughter of duke Peter of Bourbon, sister of the queene of France, & of the dutches of Sauoy: He made also to die, the mother of the said Henry, his bastard brother, also banished & slew many lords & barons of Castile: Insomuch as by his crueltie, hee acquired the hatred of all his subjects, yea of stran­gers his neighbours; so that his bastard brother, being legitimated by the Pope, at [Page 207] the earnest sute of the nobilitie of Castile, and the help of the king of France Charles A le Sage (who sent him a good armie under the conduction of master Iohn of Bour­bon, countie of March, & of Messier Bertrand of Guesclin, after constable of France) hee enterprised to eject king Peter out of his kingdome of Castile, and to make him­selfe king, and did according to his enterprise: For, as soone as hee was entred with forces into Castile, all the countrie of all sorts, abandoned that cruell king Peter, who fled and retired to Bourdeaux, towards the prince of Wales, praying him to give him succours, against his bastard brother: This prince who was generous and mag­nanimous, graunted his demaund, under colour that the said Don Peter was a lit­tle of his parentage (but in truth, moved with desire of glorie, and to acquire the re­putation to have established a lawfull king in his kingdome, against a bastard which B the French had set in) so did hee enterprise to goe inro Castile with a strong army, to establish king Peter in his kingdome: All succeeded so well unto him, that hee got a battaile at Naverret against king Henry, who fled into France, and king Peter was established in his kingdome: The prince of Wales exhorted him to pardon all such as before had borne armes against him, and from thence forward to become gentle and kind towards all his subjects, which hee faithfully promised to bee: But hee did no such thing, but againe exercised his cruelties and vengeances, as well upon the one as the other. In the meane while, Henry the bastard, gathered a new army with the help of the king of France, which was conducted by the said Messier Bertrand of Guesclin, and unlooked for, they gave an assault (nigh unto Montiell in Castile) to C king Peter and put him to flight, with a great overthrow of his people: King Peter sa­ved himselfe in a castle, which was incontinent besieged, and seeing himselfe evill provided within it, hee by stealth sought to save himselfe with a few people, but he was encountred by the said Henry his bastard brother, who slew him with his owne hand: By which meanes the said Henry with his race remained peaceable kings, in the king­dome of Castile, and king Peter finished his life unhappie by reason of his great cruelty whereof hee could never be chastised.

By the abovesaid examples it seemes unto mee, That a prince may easely judge (if hee be of any judgement) how pernitious and damnable the doctrine of Machiavell is, to enstruct a prince to bee cruell: for it is impossible that a cruell prince should D long raigne, but we ordinarily see that the vengeance of God (yea by violent meanes) followeth pace by pace, crueltie. Machiavell for confirmation of his doctrine alled­geth the example of the emperour Severus, who indeede was a man very cruell and sanguinarie, yet raigned eighteene yeeres, or there abouts, and dyed in his bed. But unto this I answere that the cruelties of Severus seeme to bee something excusable, because that he had for competitors in the empire Albinus and Niger, two of grea­ter nobilitie than hee, and which had more friends: Insomuch as it seemed necessa­rie for him (to weaken the two competitors, and to withstand their friends from hur­ting him) to use that crueltie to kill them; Yet hee pardoned many Albinians, and re­conciled himselfe unto them: moreover hee exercised part of his cruelties, in the E revenge of the good emperour Pertinax, which was a lawfull cause; yet withall had he in himselfe many goodly and laudable vertues, as wee have in other places rehear­sed: so that, as his crueltie made him much hated, his other vertues wrought some mitigation thereof. Lastly, hee made no other end, than other cruell princes: for hee dyed with sorrow (as saith Herodian who was in his time) for that hee saw his chil­dren Dion in Seve. Herod. lib. 3. such mortall enemies one against another, and that Bassianus the eldest, had en­terprised [Page 208] to kill his father, who yet did pardon him: But Bassianus pardoned not F his fathers phisitions, which would nor obey him, when hee commanded them to poison his sicke father; for as soone as his father was dead hee hanged and strangled them all. Heerein also God punished the crueltie of Severus, that having exercised all these cruelties and slaughters, well to establish the empire in his house, hee was frustrated of his intention: For of those two sonnes Bassianus and Geta, one slew the other; and Bassianus after he had slaine Geta, endured not long, but was slaine by Macrinus, and left behind him no children. Therefore although it seemed that God spared to punish Severus crueltie, for his other good vertues, yet remained not hee unpunished; for seeing his sonne (who had learned of him to bee cruell) durst enterprise to slay him, hee dyed of griefe and sorrow: And wee neede not doubt but G his conscience assaulted him greatly; for he might well thinke, that it was a just divine vengeance, to see himselfe so cruelly assaulted by his owne blood, and to see machi­nated against himselfe, by his owne sonne, the like crueltie which hee exercised a­gainst others, yet he dissembled this & pardoned his sonne: For how durst he punish that vice, that hee had learned him? therefore this example of Severus serveth little or nothing to maintaine the doctrine of Machiavell; neither is one example so considerable against a million of others contrary: for men must make a law of that which happeneth most often, and in many examples, not of that which seldome happeneth.

When Anniball began to execute evill his businesses in Italie, and that the Ro­manes H having taken courage, began to follow him neere, and to hould him short, he tooke a cruell counsell, which much advanced his ruine: For the townes and fortres­ses, which hee could not guard, hee ruinated and destroyed, that his enemies after him, might not draw any commoditie from them, nor make any use of them: This was a cause that their courages, which tooke part with him were alienated from him; for saith Titus Livius, Example toucheth men more than doth callamitie and losse.

It was a great crueltie in the duke Iohn of Bourgoigne, when hee durst so much enterprise, as to cause to bee slaine the duke of Orleance, the kings onely brother; Monst. lib. 1 cap. 38. 39. 112. which crueltie cost many heads, and was cause of infinit evils in the kingdome of France, and finallie was the cause that the duke himselfe was massacred, on the same I manner that hee had caused to massacre the duke of Orleans: But yet it is a thing more strange, that this duke durst maintaine that he had great neede to commit that massacre: Yea he found a doctor in Theologie, called master Iohn Petit, who durst affirme in tearmes of Theologie, that that act was goodly, praiseable, and worthie of remuneration. True it is that in the time wherein wee are, there are found many such doctors of the bottle, patrons, & defenders of sinnes and vices, such as this Iohn Petit: but as in the end hee was knowne to bee a lyer and a slanderer, and his propositions condemned hereticall; so God will cause his imitators of this time, in the end to bee found like him: but that the asse may appeare by his eares, I have briefely set downe his oration. K

The duke of Bourgoigne, having made himselfe the stronger in armes within Paris, hee tooke order that there should be held a Counsell, and an assembly, therein to propose his justifications: In which Counsell assisted Monssier le Daulphin,, the king of Sicile, the cardinall of Bar, the dukes of Berry, of Bretaigne, of Lorraine and many contes, barons, and many other great lordes, and the rector of the Vniversi­tie of Paris, accompanied with many doctors, clearkes, and bourgesses: There was [Page 209] brought in by an usher, master Iohn Petit a doctor in Theologie, before all those no­bles, A to justifie the act of the duke of Bourgoigne. After then they had given him au­dience, with both his hands, hee tooke off his great square doctorall bonnet from off his head, and began to speake in this manner; ‘My most redoubted lordes, Monseig­nior the duke of Bourgiogne, contie of Flanders and Arthois, twise peere of France, An oration of a doctor in Divinity. and deane of Peares, is come before the most noble, & most high Majestie royall, as to his soveraigne lord, to doe him reverence in all obedience, as he is bound by foure obligations, which commonly are set downe by doctors in Theologie, and of the cannon & civile law; Of which bonds the first is, of neighbour to his neighbour; the second, of parent towards his parent; the third, of vassaile towards his lord; and the fourth will bee, that the subject not onely offend not his lord, but also revenge such B offences as are done against him. There are yet other obligations, that is, That the king hath done much good & honour to my lord of Bourgoigne: For it pleased him, that Monseignior le Daulphin should espouse his daughter, & that the son of my said lord of Bourgoigne, should marry madame Michelle daughter to his royall majesty; and as S. Gregorie saith, Cum crescunt dona, crescunt rationes donorum, that is, when gifts encrease, so doe their obligations also. All these obligations are cause that my lord of Bourgoigne hath caused to slay the duke of Orleance lately dead, which act was perpetrated for the very great good of the kings person, of his children, and of all the realme, as I shall so sufficiently shew, as every man shall bee satisfied: For the said Monseignior of Bourgoigne, hath charged me by expresse commandement C to propose his justification, which thing I durst not denie, for two causes: The first because I am bound to serve him, by an oth taken of mee three yeeres agoe: The second, because hee hath given mee a good and great portion, every yeere to keepe mee at schole, because hee considered I was smally benificed, which pension did mee great good towards my expences, and yet will so doe mee long, if it please God and my said lord of Bourgoigne. But when I consider the great matter I have taken in hand to handle before this noble companie, great feare troubleth my heart: for I know I am of small sense, feeble of spirit, and of a poore memorie, so that my tongue and memory flieth away, and that small sence I was wont to have, hath now altoge­ther left mee, so that I see no other remedie, but to commend mee to my God and D creator, and to his glorious mother, & to Monseigneur S. Iohn the Evangelist prince of Theologians: And therefore I humbly beseech you, my most redoubted lords, & all this companie, if I say any thing which is not well said, to attribute it to my sim­plenesse and ignorance; that I may say with the Apostle, Ignorans feci ideoque mise­recordiam consecutus sum, that is, I did it of ignorance and therefore am I pardoned. But some may here make a question, saying, It appertaineth not to a Theologian to make the said justification, but rather to a jurist: I answer, That then it belongeth no­thing to me, which am neither the one nor the other, but a poore ignorant man, as I have sayd, whose sence and memorie faileth: yet a man may say and maintaine it, That it well belongeth to a doctor in Theologie, to defend his master, and to say and E preach the truth. Men need not then be abashed if I lend my pore tongue to my lord and maister who hath nourished me: For it is now in his great need that I lend him my tongue; & they that love me the lesse for it, I thinke they commit a great sinne, and hereof every man of reason will excuse me: Then to begin this Iustification, I take my theame upon that which S. Paul saith, Radix omnium malorū cupidit as, quam quidam appetentes, erraverunt à fide. These words are in the first to Timothie, the sixt [Page 210] chapter, and are thus englished: Ladie Covetousnesse of all evils is the root, which F makes men disloyall. Some may object to me, that pride is the first of all sinnes, be­cause Lucifer by his pride, fell from Paradice into hell; and also because it is said in Ecclesiasticus, chap. 10. Initium omnis peccati, superbia: that is, Pride is the beginning and root of all sinne. All men may then argue from this place; Then is not dame co­vetousnesse: But the answere hereunto is, that there are three manner of covetous­nesse, that is, of Honor, of Riches, and of Carnall delectation: but the first kind com­prehendeth pride, ergo, &c. This covetousnesse also of honor, comprehendeth vain-glorie, wrath, hatred, envie; insomuch, as hee that is spotted with this kind of cove­tousnesse, is enflamed with vaine-glorie, and angrie against his lord, whose place and domination he would gladly occupie, and moreover hateth and envieth him: And G al these crimes together, which proceed from covetousnesse, when they are commit­ted against his prince, are called, Treason, which is the greatest crime that can bee. Thus much for the first point of my theme, That dame Covetousnesse is the root of all evils. The second point is, That she maketh them become disloyall: for with a de­sire to dominier, they enterprise against their lord, whereas they should be loiall un­to him, as I shall shew hereafter by many goodly places. But as is fit; to shew my lord of Bourgoignes justification, I will take that place of dame Covetousnesse, which I have alleadged for my Major, and after I will come to my Minor, and so to the Conclusion.’

‘For proofe then of my Maior, I wil note and propose eight principall Verities, by H manner of a foundation, out of which I will inferre eight Conclusions, as it were correlatives, the better to ground the justification of Monsieur de Bourgoigne. The first Veritie is, That every subject and vassale, which upon covetousnesse enterpriseth against the corporall health of his king and soveraigne lord, to take away his most noble seignorie, committeth the horrible crime of treason, and is worthie of double death, that is, of the first and of the second. I prove it, because every disloyall sub­ject and vassale against his soveraigne, sinneth mortally. Ergo, &c. Also I prove it by S. Gregorie, who sayth thus: Tyrannus est proprie qui non Dominus reputatur, non iuste principatur, aut non principatu decoratur: That hee is a tyrant, which is not the true Lord, or which ruleth not justly, or which is not honoured by his principalitie. Also I I prove it by S. Iohn the Evangelist, who saith: Qui vivit non morietur nec laedetur à morte secunda: that is to say, That he that shall have victorie upon lady Covetous­nesse, and her three daughters, Ire, Hatred, and Envie, shall not need to feare the se­cond death, namely, eternall damnation.’

‘The second Veritie is, that in the aforesaid case, wherein the subject or vassale is worthie of double death; yet the vassale is more to be punished than the simple sub­ject; and a baron more than a simple vassale; and a countie more than a baron; and a duke more than a countie; and a kings allie more than a stranger. I prove it, be­cause the obligation of a duke or the kings kinsman towards the king, is by many de­grees greater than of a countie, baron, or of a vassale: Ergo, then the punishment must be in an higher degree: And that my consequence is good, I prove it, because K the degrees of obligations and prerogatives doe correspond and fully answer to the degrees of the punishment, and so as they are greater, so ought the punishment to be greater, as I have before alledged out of S. Gregorie: Cum crescunt dona, crescunt rationes donorum. As gifts encrease, so ought the reasons of gifts (that is obligati­ons) to doe: I prove also my said Veritie by another argument. It is a greater scan­dale, [Page 211] that a duke or the kings allie should goe about to take away the kings seigno­rie, A than if it were a poore subject: Ergo then, the punishment ought to bee grea­ter, seeing the scandale is greater. Thirdly, I prove my said Veritie, because there is a greater perill of a great man than of a little; therefore the remedie of punishment ought to be greater to withdraw great men from yeelding and obeying the enemie of mankind, and dame Covetousnesse.’

‘The third Veritie is, That in the case aforesaid, when the vassale committeth trea­son, meriting double death, then is it lawfull for every subject, according to the lawes morall, naturall, and divine, to kill without any command that traitour and disloyall tyrant; and it is not onely lawfull, but also honourable and meritorious. I prove this veritie by twelve reasons in the honour of holy Theologie: The first, of a doctor, B which upon the second booke of the master of Sentences, sayth: Qui ad liberatio­onem patriae, tyrannum occidit praemium accipit, & facit opus laudabile & meritorium. That is: He which sleyeth a tyrant, to deliver his countrey, receiveth a reward, and doth a laudable and a meritorious worke. The second authoritie is taken out of that excellent doctor Salceber in his book of Policraton, who saith: Amico adulari non li­cet, sedaurem Tyranni mulcere licitum est, quia ei licet adulari quem licet occidere: that is: It is not lawfull for any to flatter his friend, but with faire words he may wel bring a tyrant asleepe, for it is lawfull to kill him. The third authoritie is of many doctors in Theologie, all which I set downe but for one, that I may not exceede the number of three, namely, of Richard de Mivile, Alexander de Halles, and Astensis, which C hold the foresaid conclusion: And for a greater confirmation, I adde hereunto the authoritie of S. Peter, who sayth: Subditi estote Regi quasi praecellenti: that is, Let each man obey his king, as the most excellent and soveraign. My three second rea­sons of the twelve, are founded upon the authoritie of three morrall philosophers. The first, Licitum & laudabile est cuilibet subditorum occidere tyrannum: that is, It is lawfull & praiseworthie for every man to sley a tyrant. The second authoritie is from the noble morallist Tully, who sayth in his Offices, That they which killed Iulius Cae­sar, were worthie of praise, because he had usurped the seignorie of Rome by tyran­nie. The third authoritie is out of Boccace, who sayth: That men may well conspire and employ armes against a tyrant; and that it is a thing most holy and necessarie, D that a tyrant ought not to be called, king nor prince, and that there cannot be a more pleasanter sacrifice, than the bloud of a tyrant. After these authorities alledged out of Theologians and Moralists, I come now to the authoritie of Legists: And because I am not a Lawyer, it sufficieth me to speake the sentence of the lawes, without alled­ging them: for in all my life I never studied the cannon and civile law but two years, and that was twentie yeares agoe, so that I could learne but a little, and might easily forget that little by the length of time, since I learned it. The first authoritie out of the civile law, is, That it is lawfull to kill forsakers of knighthood: but who can more forsake knighthood, than he which forsakes his king, who is the chiefe of all knight­hood? The second authoritie is, That it is lawfull to kill theeves and robbers by high E wayes: It is lawfull then to kill a tyrant, which continually watcheth and intendeth the death of his soveraigne lord. I come now to three authorities of the holy Scrip­ture. The first is that of Moses, who without authoritie slew the Aegyptian: who ty­rannized over the people of Irael: For at that time Moses had not the authoritie of a judge over the people of Israel, which was delivered unto him nigh fortie yeares after that he had slaine the Aegyptian. The second authoritie is the example of Phi­neas, [Page 212] who without any commandement slew the duke Zambry, because he allied him F selfe by carnall love with a Sarracene woman; whereupon Phineas was commended and reverenced in three things, in love, honour, and riches. The third authoritie is that of S. Michael the archangell, who without the commandement of God or a­ny other, fought against the tyrant Lucifer, so disloyall to God his soveraigne, who went about to usurpe the seignorie of God: The said S. Michael was favourably re­warded in three things, that is, in honour, love, and riches: in love, because God lo­ved him more than any other Angell: in honour, because God made him a perpe­tuall prince of the heavenly hoast: in riches, because God gave him riches as much as he desired or could carrie away: so it appeareth, that my third Veritie is well pro­ved by twelve reasons, in the name of the twelve Apostles: of which reasons, three are taken from the holy Theologians, three from Moralists, and three from Le­gists, G and the three last from the holy Scripture, and they goe alwaies from three to three.’

‘My fourth Veritie is this: It is more meritorious and honourable, that a tyrant be slaine by the kings parents, than by a stranger; and by a duke, than by a countie; and by a barron, than by a simple vassale; because therein shineth more the love & obe­dience of the sleyer, and is more honourable to the king to be revenged of a great man, than a base and meane man.’

‘My fift Veritie is: That alliances, promises, othes, or confederations ought not to be kept, if for keeping them, there come any prejudice to the prince or to the com­monweale; H but to keep them, is to do against the morall, naturall, and divine lawes. I proove this Veritie by thus arguing: Whensoever two contrarie obligations are concurrent, a man must keepe and observe the greatest, and breake the least: But in this case, the bond unto the prince and commonwealth is greater than any other promise or consideration: Ergo then wee must observe the obligation towards the prince and commonwealth, and breake all other obligations, othes, and confedera­tions. Also in arguing thus: Whensoever a man doth a thing better than that which he sweares to do, he is not perjured in doing that better thing, & omitting that thing which he swore to doe (as expressely the master saith of Sentences in the last of the third) but in this propounded case, it is better to kill a tyrant, although a man have I sworne not to kill him, than to let him live, as hath been above shewed: Ergo then it is no perjurie nor evill done, to sley a tyrant against his sworne promise, alliance, or confederation that he hath with him. Also Isiodorus in his booke of soveraigne good sayth, That wee must not observe an oth, whereby a man shall bee forced rashly to commit an evill: but in our case a man shall bee forced to an evill by such a promise and oth: Ergo he must then not observe it.’

‘The sixt Veritie is: That if so it happen, that the alliances, othes, or confederati­ons, turne to the prejudice of one of the promisers, hee is in nothing bound to keep them. This veritie is prooved in thus arguing: The end of every commaundement is charitie, as the Apostle saith: but the cheefe charitie beginneth at our selves: Ergo the commandement to observe the faith and promise, ought not to bee observed, if K it be contrarie to the charitie, which we ought to have towards our selves, according to that which is said of the Cannonists: Frangenti fidem, fides frangatur eidem: Hee that breakes faith, faith ought to be broken to him againe: Also in all promises that are made, every man must include, If it please God: But certaine it is, it pleaseth not God, that we should do any thing against the law and order of charitie: Ergo, &c.’

‘The seventh Veritie is: That to every subject it is lawfull, honourable, and meri­torious A to kill a tyrant by deceits, speculations and dissimulations. I proove it first by the authoritie of the morall philosopher Boccace above alledged: Also by the exam­ple of king Iehu, who dissembled to approve the service of Baal, to trap the sacrifi­cers, for which he was praised: Also by the example of Ioiada, who by treason caused Athalia to be slaine, for which he was praised: Also of Iudith, who slew Holofernes by dissimulation, whereupon she is praised: And this is the fittest death for tyrants to die on, that is, to be slaine villanously by watchings and espiements.’

‘The eight Truth is: That every subject which enterpriseth and worketh against his soveraigne lord by Necromancie and invocation of devils for covetousnesse to have the crowne, is a violator of the Catholicke faith, and worthie of double death, B the first and the second: For S. Bonaventure (in his second book, Distinction the sixt) saith, That the divell never pleaseth the will of such men, but first idolatrie and infi­delitie are mingled together: For as faith serveth much to the operation of the mira­cles of God, so infidelitie is as requisit in the operation of divellish things: The di­vell also will doe nothing for such men, unlesse they agree to yeeld him the domina­tion over them, whereof he is very desirous: Also that great doctor in the ninth ar­ticle, in Secunda Secundae, saith and affirmeth, That invocations of devils never come to effect without a fore-going of a corruption of faith, idolatrie, and an expresse compact with divels. And this opinion doe the venerable doctors, Alexander de Hales, Richard de Mivile, and Astensis hold, and commonly all the other doctours C which have writ of this matter.’

‘Here you see my eight Verities well proved: I come now to eight Correlatives. The first is: If it come to passe, that in the case aforesaid, these invocators of devils and traito [...] [...]o the king be imprisoned, and some of their partakers deliver or cause to deliver them hee ought to bee punished with the same punishment as they are themselves, namely, with the first and second death. Secondly, every subject that ma­keth a bargaine with any man to empoyson his soveraigne lord, although the en­terprise come not to effect, is also well worthie of death. Thirdly, every subject that by dissimulation of pastime causeth apparrell to be made to put on his soveraigne lord, and to put fire therein, thinking to burne him, is also worthie of double death. D Fourthly, every subject making alliance with the mortall enemies of the king & the kingdome, is also worthie of death. Fiftly, every subject which fraudulently setteth dissention betwixt the king and the queene, making the queene understand that the king hateth her, and counselling her to goe out of the realme, she and her children, offering safely to conduct her out, is worthie of the like death, as above. Sixtly, every subject that giveth the Pope to understand false things, as to make him understand, that his king and lord is not worthie to hold the crowne, nor his children after him, is worthy of like death. Seventhly, the tyrant that hindereth the union of the church and the deliberations of the Cleargie, for the utilitie of the holy mother Church, ought to be punished as an hereticke and schismaticke, and meriteth, that the earth E should open and swallowe him, as Dathan, Core, and Abiron. Eightly, the subject which by empoysonments and viands, seekes to cause the king or his children to die, is worthie of the aforesaid death. The last is, that every subject, which with souldiers causeth the people and countrey of his soveraigne to bee eaten up and exiled, and which taketh and distributeth his money at his pleasure, and makes it serve his turne to procure alliances with his lords enemies, ought to be punished as a very tyrant [Page 214] with the first and second death. And here I make an end of my Maior of the justifica­tion F of Monsieur the duke of Bourgoigne.’

‘But I come now to declare my Minor, wherin I have shewed, That Lewis late duke of Orleance, was so much embraced with ladie Covetousnesse, of the honours and riches of this world, that hee would have taken away the seignorie and crowne of Fraunce, from the king his brother and his children, by temptation of the enemie of hell, using the aforesaid meanes: for he found an Apostata monke, expert in the di­vellish art, unto whom he gave a ring and a sword, to consecrate them to the divell: This monke went into a solitarie place, behind a bush, where he put off all his gar­ments to his shirt, and fell on his knees, so invocating devils: Straight there appea­red two devils, apparelled in darke greene, whereof the one was called Hernias, and G the other Estramain: Then this monke did unto them as great reverence & honour as he could doe to God our Saviour: and one of the devils tooke the ring, and the o­ther the sword, and after vanished away; the monke went away also. Hee returned in­to that place againe, and there found the ring, having a red colour, and the sword, wherewith he thought to have slaine the king: but by the helpe of God, and of the most excellent ladies of Berry and Bourgoigne, the king escaped. Also the said duke of Orleance made an alliance and confederation with the duke of Lancaster, who in like manner warred against king Richard of England his lord, as is above­said. Item, He went about to have carried away the queene and her children, which hee meant to have carried into the countie of Luxembrough, to take his will of H her, which the queene would not agree to. Item, Hee practised to make Monseig­nior le Daulphin eat an impoysoned apple, which was given to a child, who was charged to give it to none but to the said Daulphin: but it so happened, that the child gave it to one of the sonnes of the said duke of Orleance, who di [...]d thereof. Item, The said duke hath alwayes favoured the Pope in the extraction of money out of the kingdome, to obtaine of him a declaration against the king and his ge­neration of inhabilitie to hold the kingdome, and to give it unto him. Item, He hath held armed men in the fields by the space of 14 or 15 yeares, which did nothing but pill, exile, rob, ransack, and sley the poore people, and force women and maids. Item, He laid tallages upon the kings subjects, and emploied the silver in making alliances I with our enemies, to come to the crowne, and besides hee hath committed many great crimes, which my said Monseignior le Bourgoigne, reserveth to declare in time and place.’

‘It followeth then by good consequence, that my said lord of Bourgoigne Conclusion ought not to be blamed for sleying the said duke of Orleance, and that the king should like that deed well, and to authorize the same as much as were needfull: And besides, he ought to be rewarded in three especiall things, that is, in Love, Honour, and Riches, as were S. Michaell the archangell, and the most valiant Phineas: that is to say (as I thinke in my grosse and rude understanding) That the king our lord ought more than before to beare amitie, loyaltie, and good repu­tation K to my said lord of Bourgoigne, and to cause to be published letters patents through all the realme. God graunt it may bee so, who bee blessed world without end. Amen.’

Here is in substance the Oration of that venerable doctor in Theologie, unto which I have not added one word, onely I have shortened certaine long and reite­rated allegations, whereby might be seene the beastlinesse of this our master, a man [Page 215] hired to justifie one of the most execrable murders that ever was committed. Very A notable is the rhethoricke and art of this venerable doctors Oration: which in the Exordium or beginning to obtaine benevolence, confesseth, that he is an ignorant man, without sence or memorie: And to make a reason why hee hath enterprised to be in these causes advocate, he saith it is for a pension, which the duke of Burgoigne gave him towards his living: After for proofe of his Maior, he alleadgeth places of Scripture so evill applied, as children at this day will discover his follie: And for no­table authors he alledgeth a sort of sottish scholasticall sophisters of Theologie, as Alexander de Hales, Salceber, Mivile, and other like. His Correlatives and his Mi­nor, are the false imputations wherewith the duke of Bourgoigne charged the duke of Orleance. Moreover, this Oration was reviewed by the masters of the facultie of B Sorbonne, with the bishop of Paris, and the Inquisitor of faith, and there were con­demned for heresies these propositions following. Every tyrant may be slaine by his vassale and subject, without commandement of justice. Secondly, S. Michael slew Lucifer without Gods commandement. Thirdly, Phineas killed Zambry without the commandement of God. Fourthly, Moses slew the Egyptian without the comman­dement of God. Fifthly, Iudith sinned not in flattering Holofernes, nor Iohn in lying, that he would honour Baal. Sixtly, it is not alwaies perjurie, when a man dooth that, which he hath sworne not to doe. Which articles having been declared hereticall, they were condemned to be burnt publickely, as also M. Iohn Petits bones, who had maintained them (for he was at this judgement dead and buried at Hesdin) and the C said articles were executed and put into the fire, but not the doctors bones, for they could not be gotten, because the duke of Bourgoigne then held Hesdin.

Surely it is a strange thing and very deplorable, that there should be any such men in the world, which durst maintaine with reasons so horrible a crime farre from all common sence, and all reason and humanitie, as is a massacre done and executed practisedly, without any forme of justice. Is not this to call things with contrarie names, that is, to call injustice, by the name of justice; crueltie, by the name of cle­mencie; night, by the name of light; evill, by the name of good, and the devill by the name of an Angell? Is not this to praise that which is to be despised and detested, to follow that which is to be fled, to love that which is to be hated, to bring into a con­fusion D the distinction of good and of evill, and to overthrow the order which God and nature have established in the distinction of good and evill things. But after I have shewed, that crueltie cannot bee but pernicious and cause of a princes ruine (whatsoever Machiavell saith to the contrarie) it will not be to any evill purpose now to shew; That kindnesse, clemencie, and goodnesse, are the true means to esta­blish a princes estate in firmitie & assurance: But because we shall handle hereafter another Maxime, where it shall bee more proper to discourse this matter, wee will reserve the speaking therof to that place. E

9. Maxime. F

‘It is better for a Prince to be feared than loved.’

MEn (saith our Florentine) doe love as it please them, and do feare G as it pleaseth the prince: Therefore the prince (if hee bee vvise) ought to found himselfe, and to leane that vvay vvhich dependeth up­on himselfe, and not that vvay vvhich dependeth upon another. If the prince can have both together, to bee feared and loved, that is the best: but it being a very difficult thing for to embrace both, it is more assured to be feared, than to be beloved.

THis Maxime is a saying or proverbe, which our elders have attribu­ted H to tyrants, Oderint dum metuant: that is, Let them hate, so be it they feare. Caius Caligula usurped this auncient proverbe, as Su­etonius saith, and put it in practice during all the time of his raign; Sucto. in Ca­ligula, cap. 30 and he ended (as commonly such princes doe end) which will ra­ther bee feared than loved, as in another place wee have said. The emperour Tiberius would needs something mitigate this proverbe, not allowing to make himselfe feared, and yet disdained not hatred: For he was wont to say, as by the way of a proverbe or device: Oderint dum probent, that is, Let them hate, so they al­low. But it seemes he made an evill match in coupling hatred with approbation: for I that which a man hateth, hee dooth not willingly allow; and that which a man al­loweth, hee hateth not also. Moreover, all such sayings and proverbes (Let them hate, so they feare, and Let them hate, so they allow) are but tyrants devices, and our forefathers have so esteemed them, and tyrants have alwayes practised them. As Nero, when he perceived that by his cruelties he was feared and redoubted, he brag­ged, that none of them which had been emperours before him, had any understan­ding how to command, neither knew they the power they had, to make themselves be obeyed: But that power was well made knowne to himselfe, for men made him well to feele▪ That power evill exercised, acquireth hatred to him that exerciseth it, and hatred, ruine and destruction: So happened it to Caligula, so to Tiberius, and K so will it alwayes fall unto them, which seeke to bee feared, rather with hatred, than with love.

As for that which Machiavell sayth, That the prince is feared as he will, and as it pleaseth him: If this were true, all should goe well for him: for hee would alwayes be so feared, as none should oppose themselves against his desseignes and comman­dements, but that every one should come under the yoke, and obey him purely and [Page 217] simply: But experience shewes us the contrarie, and makes us see and know, That a A prince cannot long be obeyed, if that which he commandeth bee disagreeable and found unjust of him that should obey: insomuch, as at the first occasion that pre­senteth it selfe, they unyoke themselves, and their obedience endureth no longer than force and necessitie endureth: And because no force nor necessitie can actually endure long time: (because no violent thing naturally lasteth) therefore it followeth, that disagreeable commandements cannot long be observed; and that obedience, founded upon feare, is incontinent broken: For the equitie & justice of a comman­dement is the sinew thereof: And as the bodie cannot move without sinewes, unles only for a leape like a stone; so a commaundement, which for want of equitie dis­pleaseth Equitie is the sinew of the commā ­dement. the obeyers, shall never be well put in action and practised, unlesse it bee for B a small time, and at the beginning.

And as for that which Machiavell saith, That it is very hard for a prince to bee feared and loved together, it is cleane contrarie: For there is nothing more easie for A prince may well be seated and loved toge­ther. a prince, than to obtaine them both, as reason sheweth it: Because it is certaine, that a prince which maintaines his subjects in good peace, keepeth them from oppressi­ons, causing all them to bee punished, which would oppresse them, and which will maintaine their liberties, and punish the breakers of them, and who will observe a good pollicie in his countrey, that therein there may be a free & assured commerce, without imposition of tributes or burdens, and he that shall cause good justice to be ministred to every one, it is certaine, that such a prince shall be greatly beloved of his C subjects, yea, and feared thus: When men understand, that the prince ministreth good justice in every place, without support, favour, or corruption, leaving not pu­nishable faults unpunished, and is not prodigall in graunting favours and pardons, unlesse they have a good foundation upon reason and equitie, certaine it is, that hee shall be redoubted and feared, not only in his own countrey, but in strange countries also. For example hereof, are all the ancient and good emperours, as Augustus, Tra­ian, Adrian, Antonine, and others, which were together feared, beloved, and reveren­ced. I could here alleadge almost all our auncestor kings of France, which with good justice, were not onely redoubted of their subjects, but also of all their neighbours: yea, that good reputation of justice in them, was a cause, that often strange princes D have submitted their contentions to the judgment of the Court of Paris in France, as we reade in histories: And because they caused to be ministred good justice, think you they were the more hated? no, not of the wickeder sort, which are forced by their consciences to love and admire the good and vertue, although their lives bee con­trarie: And how should they not be beloved of their subjects, beeing good kings as they were, seeing Frenchmen are of that nature, that they can never hate their king, how vicious soever he be, but alwaies impute vices and faults to some of his gover­nors and Counsellors, rather than to him? Truly, if princes had alwaies good men a­bout them, they could never bee vicious, at the least to the detriment of the Commonwealth: Therefore by good right, men do impute the evill E government of a countrey, rather to a princes Coun­sellors, than to himselfe, as we have pro­ved in another place.

10. Maxime. F

‘A Prince ought not to trust in the amitie of men.’

MEn generally (saith Machiavell) are full of ingratitude, varia­ble, Cap. 17. of a Prince. G dissemblers, flyers from dangers, and covetous of gaine, and so long as they profit by thee, so long thou maiest hold them in thy lap, and they will offer thee their lives, goods, and all they have, even when there is no neede; but in a necessitie they will turne their gar­ment and away: So that a prince which leaneth upon such a rampire, shall at the first fall into ruine: yea they vvill sooner be offended when a man will use love tovvards them, than if by rigour hee seeke to bee H feared, because men make lesse accompt to offend him, vvhich useth him gently and lovingly, than him of vvhom they are afraid: Because amitie is onely founded upon some obligation, vvhich easily may bee broken, but feare is founded upon a feare of punishment, vvhich ne­ver forsakes the person.

AS well this Maxime as the former, is a plain tyrannous precept: For as saith the Poet Aeschilus:

No friend to trust, what common more?
Amian. Mar­cell. lib. 16.
I
Each tyrant hath this ill in store.

This is the reason why Denis the tyrant of Sicile, caused a strong house to be built, where he dwelt, environed with deepe ditches full of water on all sides, over which there was no entrie but a draw bridge, which was every night taken in by himselfe, and certaine lose planks of the bridge brought into his bed chamber, which ever the next morning hee carried himselfe to the bridge againe: Hee caused also his daughters to learne to bee barbars, to poule and trimme his head and beard, and all this did he, because hee durst trust no man in K the world to doe those things. Yet Commodus a cruell tyrant also, used another more Lamp. in Commod. sure receit: For, trusting no man with his haire of head or beard, hee himselfe burnt them with a candle. I leave you to thinke, if such people bee miserable, whose con­sciences are tormented in such sort, that it judgeth them worthie to have all the world for a capitall enemie, in such sort as they dare put no confidence in any, but are in continuall feare and torment.

[Page 219] Far contrarie from this doctrine of Machiavell, is the exhortation which Misipsa [...]a [...]ust in bello Iugurth A the good king of Numidia gave, a little before his death, to Iugurtha and his other children, admonishing them amongst themselves to maintaine a good amitie and concord: ‘It is not (sayth he) puissant armies, nor great treasures, by the meanes of which a prince ought to conserve and maintaine his estate, but by his friends, which are not acquired, either by force of armes, or by gold & silver, but by good offices & loialtie: But who ought to be a more loiall friend than one brother to another? or whome can he trust, who shall be an enemie to his owne blood? I leave you a king­dome firme and assured, if you be good; but feeble and weake if you be wicked: for by concord small things encrease, but by discord great things fall to ruine.’ Behold a breefe exhortation, but very weightie, to shew how necessarie it is to have good B friends, and to maintaine good amity and loyaltie amongest parents. Like unto this is the oration which Silla made to king Boccus of Mauritania: ‘Wee are very joyfull (said hee) that thou rather seekest to bee a friend, than an enemie of the Romane people: for, even from her birth, the Romane people being poore, have alwaies bet­ter loved to acquire friends than slaves & servants, & have ever thought it more assu­red to command voluntary people, than any by constraint: King Boccus then can­not chuse a better amity than ours, which can both favour thee, & aide thee, & will never hurt thee; & to say truth, neither we, nor any other can have too many friends.’

The amitie and friends which a prince may obtaine by a good and just govern­ment, may serve so to assure him of every man in his estate, that hee shall have C neede of no guard, if hee thinke good to bee rid of them, as did that good empe­rour Traian, who often went to visit & see his friends, onely accompanied with foure Dion in Tra­ian. or five gentlemen, without any guard of souldiers. The like did the ancient kings of France, which knew not that kind of guard wee have now, of gunners and halberdi­ers, but ordinarily marched without other companie than gentlemen, which onely bare their swords about them.

Amitie (saith Cicero) is the true bonde of all humane societie; and whosoever will take amitie from amongst men, as Machiavell doth from amongst princes, he seekes to take away all pleasure, solace, contentment and assurance that can bee a­mongst humane creatures: For the friend is another our selfe, with whom wee re­joyce D in our prosperitie, and our joy encreaseth, when wee have unto whom to communicate it: for wee are also comforted with him in our adversitie and sorrowes, and our sadnesse is more than halfe diminished, when wee have upon whom to dis­charge, by amiable communication, the bitternesse of our heart. Moreover although wee bee sometimes blind in our owne causes, yet our friend marketh our faults, and kindly sheweth them unto us, and giveth us good counsell in our affaires, which we cannot take of our selves: Briefely, humane life without amitie, seemes no other thing then a sad widowage, destitute of the chiefe sweetnesse and comfort, that can bee gathered in humane societie, as Cicero, Plutarch, and other great philosophers, have learnedly discoursed, unto which I send them, which will more amply under­stand E the good and utilitie of Amitie.

I will not denie, but many such friends will bee found, like them whereof Machi­avell speaketh; which will seeme to bee our friends, as long as they hope to draw any profit from us, and which will make us faire offers, when they see we have neede, but will turne their backes in our necessities: There are indeede but too many such, and wee are but too often deceived with them; yet wee may not disdaine the good [Page 220] for the evill; neither may wee defame friendship, for the vices and incommodities F which accompanie it: For, amongst corne, commonly growes darnell, and amongst wholesome hearbs, some are venemous, which in outward shew seeme to bee faire and good; yet men may not cast away a thing so necessarie as corne, for the feare to finde darnell or drauke in it, nor the wholesome hearbs, for such as bee venemous: But wee must seeke as much as may bee, to know, and to separate that which is evill, from that which is good. And heere, that manner of electing friends, which Au­gustus Caesar observed, is worthie observation: for hee did not easily retaine every man in his friendship and familiaritie, but ever tooke time to proove and finde their Sueton. in Aug. lib. 66. vertues, fidelitie and loyaltie. Such as hee knew to bee vertuous people, and which would freely tell him the truth of all things (as did that good and wise Maecenas) G and which would not flatter him, but would employ their good wills sincerely in the charges he gave them, after he had well prooved them, then would he acknowledge them his friends: but as hee was long and difficile to receive men into familiar amitie, so they which hee had once retained for friends, hee would never forsake them, but alwaies continued constantly his friendship towards them: Adversitie also is a true touchstone to proove who are fained or true friends: For when a man feeleth laborinthes of troubles fall on him, dissembling friends depart from him, and such as are good, abide with him as saith Euripides:

Adversitie the best and certain'st friends doth get; H
Prosperitie both good and evill alike doth fit.

11. Maxime. I

‘A prince which would have any man to dye, hee must seeke out some appa­rent colour thereof, and then hee shall not bee blamed, if so bee that hee leave his inheritance and goods to his children.’

WHen a prince (saith master Nicholas) will pursue the death Cap. 17. Of the prince. of any man, he ought to colour it with some iust colour; and when hee puts him to death, hee must abstaine from K the confiscation of his goods: for his children which abide behinde, will sooner forget the death of their father, than the losse of their patrimonie: And withall, let him know, That nothing makes a prince so much hated, as when hee comes to touch the goods and wives of his subiects.

[Page 221] THis is also another tyrannicall precept, like to the former. For it Corne. Taci. Annales lib. 1 and 4. A is a custome with tyrants, to impose false accusations and blames, against such as they will cause to die, sometime before the execu­tion, sometimes after. Wee have shewed before, an example of Domitian, who for light and no causes, tooke occasion to make ma­ny great Romane lords to dye, which were of him suspected, as to tyrants all good and vertuous men are ordinarily, which are better than themselves. The emperour Tiberius (saith Tacitus) at the beginning of his raigne, hated men of eminent vertue, and such also as were extreamely vicious, suspecting the vertue of some, and fearing to be dishonoured, and despised by the vicious: But after he came B to the fulnesse of all vices, and loved most such as were most vicious; hee practised too much this principle of Machiavell, against many vertuous and honourable men: for, hee caused to dye a learned and most excellent man called Cremutius Cordus, because hee writ an hystorie, wherein hee praised Cassius and Brutus: He slew also Aemylius Scaurus, for writing a tragoedie which pleased him not, and many other like railors, whereby hee sought to cover his tyrannie. Nero likewise after hee had slaine his mother, writ lies to the Senat, to bee published all over, how he had discovered a great conspiration, that his mother had intended against him, to cause his death; and that hee was constrained to sley her, to prevent her. In like sort Cara­calla after hee had slaine Geta his brother, caused a fame to bee spred all over, that C hee himselfe escaped faire, for his brorher would have slaine him. Briefely all tyrants use to doe so, practising their cruelties and vengeances, ever under some pretext or false coulour, as Machiavell teacheth: And there are none at this day, which can­not examplifie this position, with many late and fresh examples in our time. For the massacres of Paris, executed on S. Bartholomewes day, and the execution after, made of captaine Briquemand, of Maistre Arnand of Carignes, of contie Mongomery, and of the lord of Monbrum, and other like, were all coloured with false imputations, by these Messers Machiavellists, and by wicked judges their slaves, as every one knoweth.

And as for that which Machiavell saith, That the children, of such as are un­justly D caused to die, take no care, if so bee their goods bee not taken from them: Dion in Ne­roue. and in A [...]to. Carac. I beleeve few men will accord with him, in this point, for every one which hath a good mans hart, will sooner make account of honour and life, than of goods. But certaine it is, if the successor, his sonne or other kinsman, despise and make no ac­count to pursue by lawfull meanes, that justice bee done, for the unjust death of the slaine men, whom hee succeedeth, that he leeseth his honour, and by the civile lawes is culpable and unworthie of the succession. Moreover the injurie done in the per­son of the father, is reputed done to the sonne himselfe: and the contrarie: As also every man esteemes himselfe to suffer injurie, when any of his parents or friends doe suffer it: Insomuch as such violent executions are without doubt more intolle­rable, E than the losse of goods, and do much more stronglie wound the hearts of men, which are not destitute of naturall love towards their bloud, and such as have their honour in any recommendation, than all other losses and damages that they can suf­fer: and although the Machiavellists hold for a Maxime, That a dead man biteth not or makes no warre, yet the death of a man, oftentimes is the cause of many deaths, and of great effusion of blood, as more at large shall be said, in another place.

12. Maxime. F

‘A prince ought to follow the nature of the Lyon, and of the Fox: not of G the one without the other.’

YOu must understand (saith this Florentine) that men fight in two manners: the one with lawes, when mat­ters Cap. 18. 19. Of the prince. are handled by reason: the other with force: The first is proper to men, which have the use of reason: The second appertaineth to beasts, which have neither rea­son nor intelligence: But because the first is not sufficient to keepe men and to maintaine them, in inioying of things belonging unto H them, they must needes oftentimes have recourse to the second, which is force. Wherefore it is needefull, that a prince can well play the beast, and the man together: as our elders have taught, when they writ, that Chiron the Centaure, halfe a man and halfe a beast, was given as an in­structor for the prince Achilles: For heereby hee gave to understand, that a prince ought to shew himselfe a man and a beast together. A prince then beeing constrained well to know hovv to counterfet the beast, hee ought amongst all beasts to chuse the complexion of the I Fox, and of the Lyon together, and not of the one without the other: for the Fox is subtill, to keepe himselfe from snares, yet he is too weake to guard himselfe from vvolves: and the Lyon is strong enough to guard himselfe from vvolves, but hee is not subtill enough to keepe himselfe from nets: A man must then bee a Foxe to knovv all subtilties and deceits, and a Lyon to bee the stronger, and to make vvolves a­fraid. The emperour Didius Iulianus knevv vvell hovv to play the Fox, to come to the empire, in promising men of vvarre great sommes of mony, to obtaine the empire: For after he vvas chosen; hee played K them a Foxes part, deceiving them, in giving them much lesse than hee promised: but not knovving vvithall hovv to play the Lyon, hee vvas incontinent overthrovvne: For Severus, vvho vvas cunning to play both, came against him vvith great force; insomuch as hee vvas [Page 223] slaine by his owne souldiers of his guarde, which went to Severus side. A And in the meane while Severus seeing that the captaine Albinus, was in Gaule, with a puissant armie; and captaine Niger in Levant likewise with a great army, hee played the Fox, to allure them by faire vvords: that they would not hinder him to obtaine the empire: for hee feared them, because they had great forces in their hands, and that they were more noble, and of more ancient houses than hee: Hee made them great promises, especiallie hee promised Albinus to associate him in the empire, and to give him the name and authoritie of Caesar, vvhich vvas the like title, as at this day is king of the Romanes: And as for B Niger, hee held his children in his hands as hostages, under coulour of honour and favour, so that hee the lesse feared him. As soone as hee had thus by playing the Fox and deceit, stayed Albinus and Ni­ger, hee ended his enterprise, to make himselfe knowne a peaceable emperour: But after this, taking unto him the nature of the Lyon, he turned his forces against Albinus & Niger, and overcame them both, one after another: So that by knowing vvell how to play these tvvo beasts, the Lyon and the Fox, hee made himselfe a peaceable empe­rour C vvithout competitor. Contrary, the emperour Maximin, after he vvas elected emperour by the souldiers of his hoast, could not play one part of the Fox, but only of the Lyon, which was the cause that he endured not, and that many vvere elected, to hinder his quiet posses­sion of the empire, insomuch as in the end, hee vvas overthrovvne and slaine of his ovvne souldiers.

MAchiavell hath not yet handled a discourse more worthie of D his sufficiency than this: For hee teacheth by this Maxime the manner to be a beast, and especially how a prince should in all his behaviours use himselfe like a beast: Thinke you I pray you, that to teach, how being a man, you may imitate a beast, is a small matter? I know well that our Machiavelists, will say, that heerein is hid a secret of philosophie, & that Machiavell mea­neth that a prince should be as subtill as a Fox, & violent like a Lyon; not that he must go with foure feet, or that he must dwell in the deserts of Ara­bia, or in holes in woods, or commit other such like actions, as the Fox & Lion doe. Well I am content to agree unto them this morall sence; and that their master E meant here to declare some singular & memorable doctrine: Let us now come to ex­amine it: He saith then, when a prince cannot fight like a man, that is by reason; he ought to fight like a beast, that is, to use force and subtiltie. To this I answere, that a prince in his quarrell hath either reason or right on his side, or els hee hath them not: If hee hath them not, he ought not to fight against any man: for each war ought to have his foundation upon reason, as other where wee have shewed: If the prince [Page 224] hath reason on his side, and he with whom hee hath to doe, refuseth to come to rea­son, F then the prince may justly constraine him by force of armes: and this is not cal­led to fight like a beast, nor like a Lion, but it is to fight as a man using reason, who employeth his owne corporall force, and the force of his horses, of his armies and walls, and of all other things offensive and defensive, to serve for instruments and meanes to execute that which reason commandeth and ordaineth: so that force em­ployed Force is a servant of reason. to his right use, is no other thing but a servant of reason, which obeyeth her in all her commandements: and therefore therein there is nothing of a beast, and they which thus employ their forces, doe nothing that holds of a beast. As for guile and subtiltie, I say likewise, that in warre a man may lawfully use subtilties against his enemies, if so be his faith and the rights of warre bee not violated, and this is not G called foxlike subtiltie, or unlawful deceiving, but it ought to be called militarie pru­dence: And therefore in warre to use subtiltie, fraud, and militarie sharpenesse of wit (for all those names may be well used) is not to counterfeit the beast, nor to play the Fox. But I know well, Machiavell is of another mind, namely, That a prince is not bound unto right, faith, or religious promise, to hinder him that he may not use now force, and now subtiltie, according as the one or the other may best serve him, to come to the end hee pretendeth: For of faith and promise, or of right and reason, men may not speake in Machiavels schoole, unlesse it be to mocke at them, which esteeme such, most holy bands of humane societie: but concerning faith and pro­mises, we shall have another Maxime, wherein we shall rip up this matter to the bot­tome: H but here only I will shew that these foxlike subtilties and deceits, whereof Ma­chiavell meanes in his speech, doe not ever succeed well to them who use them, but most commonly they fall into their owne nets.

When Anniball (by meanes of an ambuscado) had entrapped the captaine Tit. Livius, lib. 7. Dec. 3. & lib. 3. Dec. 4. Marcellus, lieutenant generall of the Roman armie (who was slaine upon the place) he found about him his sealing ring: hee considered straight upon a subtile device, namely, to write unto the Salapians (which dwelt nigh) in the name of Marcellus, by which he sent them word, that the next night hee would come into Salapia, and that they should hold the garrison of the towne ready. Crispinus, the lieutenant of Mar­cellus, knowing Anniball to be a master of subtile inventions; doubting this, sent I suddainly through all the townes, word, that Marcellus was dead, and his ring in An­nibals hands, and that they should beleeve no letter under the name of Marcellus: The Salapians having received this advertisment, and Annibals letters, also put their garrison in armes; and as Anniball approched the towne, he caused such to march first as could speake the Roman tongue: As soon as they arrived at the gates, they called the guards thereof, which playing well their parts, at the last tooke up the port-cullis on high, and suffered about six hundred of Annibals souldiers to enter in: then let they fall the port-cullis, and cut in pieces all them which entred, which cau­sed Anniball thus to be taken in his own net. Thus was he knowne and discovered for a Fox, so as often they turned his owne nets upon him, as they do upon Foxes, when K Counsell of subtiltie perillous. they catch them, by bending their nets backward. And truly, it is most often seene, that such subtilties as tast of trecherie and disloyaltie, succeed not well: For as cap­taine Quintius said to the Aetolians: ‘Subtile and audacious counsels are at the first very agreeable and pleasant, but to guide, they are difficill and hard, and full of sorrow in the end.’

Concerning this subtiltie and perfidious deceit, a notable advice is given by the Tit. Livius, lib. 2. Dec. 5. [Page 225] Senate of the auncient Romans. The Romans being upon the point to move warre A against Perseus king of Macedonie, they first sent embassadors unto him, & amongst them, Martius Phillippus, to know the deseignes of that king, and to trie if he would repaire the faults and injuries which he had committed against the Romanes. The said embassadors found that king but slenderly prepared for warre, and altogether Tit. Livius, lib. 2. Dec. 5. evill disposed to acknowledge or repaire his faults: Therefore making him under­stand, that he need to looke for nothing at the Romanes hands but amitie, and that at their hands he might easily look for a good peace or truce, with this hope leaving him, they returned to Rome. Soone after they were arrived, they declared in full to the Senate, all that they had done in Macedonie, and especially, how they deceived king Perseus, in making him beleeve, that hee might at his pleasure have peace or Treaties of craftinesse rejected of the Romans B truce, wherein they thought to have wrought well: But the abovesaid old Senatours begun to answere them, That they liked not, neither would countenance such trea­ties as be not beseeming the Romanes: & that their auncestors used not to vanquish their enemies by deceits and subtilties, nor by nocturne battails, nor by simuled and fained flight, and so suddenly to returne, nor by other deceits, but by true and per­fect vertue: For their custome was ever, to denounce warre before they begun it, yea sometimes they assigned the place of battaile. Our auncestors mooved with this sin­ceritie and loyaltie, would not employ the physician of king Pyrrhus their enemie, who offered to poyson his master for a certaine summe of silver, but they discovered to the king the disloyaltie of the Physician: that also by this said sinceritie they would C not take the children of the Falisques, which were delivered them by their owne schoolemaster, but sent the schoolemaster bound and all his schollers backe againe to the Falisques: And that such doings become Romanes well, and not to use the subtile deceits of the Punickes, or the craftinesse of the Grecians, which esteemed it more honorable to deceive their enemie, than to vanquish him: And that although for the present time, subtiltie hath profited, yet the enemie vanquished by deceits, never holds himselfe for vanquished, but hee onely which acknowledgeth himselfe surmounted by true vertue without any subtiltie or deceit. Behold what was the opi­nion of these old and wise Senators, which rejected and despised the Fox-like subtil­ties, whereof Machiavell makes such great account. D

In the yeare 1383, the duke of Anjou, brother of king Charles le Sage, went into Italie with a puissant armie to conquer Naples and Sicilie: Amongst other lords which accompanied him in this voyage, was the earle of Savoy, who led with him a good companie of knights: as they were in Poville and Calabria, seeing none to resist them, they begun straight to devise of a place where they might assuredly have resistance: and it was made knowne to the duke of Anjou, that the strongest place of all that countrey, was the Egge-castle of Naples, which is builded in the sea, with­in which, Charles de la Paix, a competitor of the said kingdome of Naples, remai­ned: The duke of Anjou enquired by what meanes he might come to have it: There came then straight an Enchanter unto him, who said, that he would helpe him unto E it in like manner as he helped Charles de la Paix, who now held it. And how is that, answered the duke? Sir, answered the Enchanter, I will cause a grosse and thick cloud to arise out of the sea, which shall have the forme of a bridge, whereof your enemies shall be so afraid, that they shall yeeld themselves to you: Yea but (replied the duke) can men passe upon that bridge: Sir (said the Enchanter) I will not assure that, for as soone as any do make the signe of the crosse as they passe, or do any way crosse their [Page 226] legs or their armes, or otherwise, all will fall to the ground, and goe to nothing. The F duke of Anjou began to laugh, and after sent for the countie of Savoy to have his counsell upon this matter, whereof hee made a recitall: The countie entreated the duke as soone as the Enchanter came againe to him, to send him to his chamber, for I would talke with him a little: The duke the next morning sent him unto him. When this Enchanter was come into the earle of Savoyes lodging: Well sir (said the earle) you say you will make us enjoy the Egge castle: Yea (Sir) for Charles, which now possesseth it, obtained it by my meanes; and I know he feareth me more than all the forces that can come against it: Well (replied the Earle) I will deliver him from that feare, and I will not have him say, that so many brave knights as wee are, could not vanquish so weake an enemie as Charles de la Paix is, but by the meanes G of an Enchanter: So (saith he) call hither the hangman; who being come, he com­manded, that in the court the Enchanters head should be cut off, which was done. For this wise earle had no mind to vanquish by deceits, and enchantment, but by true and naturall vertue: And surely generous hearts doe alwaies disdaine crafts, sub­tilties and deceits, which also cannot long last: for after a prince or captaine hath a name that he useth it, and then especially when a thing is to bee done seriously and plainely, men doe alwayes thinke they intend some subtiltie or deceit. And if it suc­ceeded well to Severus his using of deceit, so it doth not to all men, nor to the most part: and Severus was greatly diffamed for such frauds, but his other vertues made him prosper. H

But should we call this beastlinesse, or mallice, which Machiavell saith of Chiron? or hath he read, that Chiron was both a man and a beast? Who hath told him, that he was delivered to the prince Achilles, to teach him that goodly knowledge to be both a man and a beast? Xenophon saith, that Chiron was Iupiters brother (so great a Xenoph. de Ven [...]t. man he makes him) full of great knowledge, and of all vertue, generositie, pietie, and justice: nay he saith further, that Aesculapius, Nestor, Amphiaraus, Peleus, Telamon, Theseus, Vlisses, Castor, Pollux, Aeneas, Achilles, and almost all great persons, which the Grecians place amongst their gods, of him learned these vertues, whereby they have obtained immortall praise, and the reputation to be gods: Hee saith also, that Chiron was not in the time of Achilles, but long time before: but because the prince I Achilles was instructed and nourished in his discipline, vertue, and manner of life, men say he was Achilles his instructor. True it is, that the Poets have called him a Centaure, because he tooke great pleasure in riding of horses, and in hunting, which are exercises well beseeming a prince: But although he loved horses, and the exer­cise of knighthood, yet was he never esteemed to hold any thing of a beast, but ra­ther of the divinitie, as being endowed with all excellent vertues, which bring men nigh God, and take them fardest from beasts. And therefore the beastly mallice of Machiavell is seene, in perverslie abusing the example of that valiant and generous prince Achilles, to persuade a prince not to sticke to governe himselfe after the imi­tation of beasts; seeing that Achilles was instructed, as is said, by Chiron the Cen­taure, K a man and a beast, which learned him how to live both like a man and a beast: for this is false and devised; for Chiron rather held of divinitie, than of a beast, nei­ther was Achilles instructed, but in all heroicall vertues: And we never read, that hee ever used any Foxlike subtiltie or unlawfull policie, or any other thing unwoorthie of a magnanimous prince, well nourished and instructed in all high and royall vertues.

[Page 227] But since Machiavell travaileth so much to persuade princes to learne how to A play the Lion and the Fox, wherefore doth he not persuade them also to carry those two beasts in their armes? We see many which beare Lyons (because it is in some things a generous and a noble beast) but there are sildome seene in armes any Foxes pourtraied; because every noble and generous man which loveth vertue, disdaineth and hateth all deceit, falshood, and Foxlike dissembling, as things very unfit for gen­tlemen. The Machiavelists, which esteeme it so fit, that a prince should know how to play the Lion and the Fox together, the more to authorize this Maxime, should ca­rie Foxes in their armes: But they would not be knowne to be that they are, to the end they might the better deceive the world, and lest men crie after them, The Fox, The Fox. B

13. Maxime. C

‘Crueltie which tendeth to a good end is not to be reprehended.’

ROmulus (saith Machiavell) at the beginning of his kingdome, Discourse, l [...]b. 1. slew Remus his brother; and afterward consented to the death of Tatius Sabinus, king of the Sabines, whom he associated in his roi­altie, that he might unite together in one same citie, the two people, the Romanes and Sabines: It vvould seeme to many men of grosse conceit, that Romulus proceeded evill, to begin his kingdome vvith D the murder of his owne brother, and that it vvas an act of evill exam­ple: But as for me (saith M. Nicholas) I am of a far other opinion: For it is a generall Maxime, That the state of the Commonwealth cannot be vvell laid and compounded of new lawes, if the Lavvmakers and Iudges be many, but there ought to be no more than one onely per­son and spirit, to doe, rule, and ordaine all: And therefore the prince vvhich desireth to come to that point, is not vvorthy of any reprehen­sion, if he commit any extraordinarie exploit to come thereunto: For E that violence vvhich destroyeth all, is greatly to be reprehended, but so is not that vvhich tendeth to make things in better state: Therefore is Romulus vvorthie of praise, that he himselfe slevv his brother, & cau­sed to sley Tatius his cōpanion, that hee alone might establish a good policie at Rome, as after he did, erecting there a Senate, by vvhich hee [Page 228] vvas counselled in all his affaires both of peace and vvarre, and they F made also good rules & ordinances. A like praise is due to Agis, king of Sparta, vvho sought to conforme the corrupted state of the Lace­daemonians, and to establish in use, the auncient ordinances of Licur­gus, but knowing that the Ephori might hinder and contradict him in his deseignes, he caused them all to be slaine, whereby hee got great renowne, yea, as much or rather greater than Licurgus himselfe, the first author of such lawes: True it is, that Agis could not make an end of his good entents and purposes, because of the unluckie deseignes of the Macedonians, vvho making vvarre upon him, vanquished him G to the hinderance of his gallant enterprises.

THere was never murder nor crueltie, which is not coloured with some pretext or shew of good: some cover themselves with justice, affirming all that they doe, to be founded upon a good reason and equitie, and that justice would have done no lesse, than that which they have executed; and that their execution is the shortest way of justice, which would otherwise have beene too long: so that in place of murderers, cut-throates & massacrers, they are not ashamed to call themselves ab­breviators H of justice: And why should they bee ashamed; seeing that justice at this day, is so practised, as they make her serve but as a palliation or coverture, for all as­sassiments, murders, and vengeances? Every mans eyeseeth, that in many places justice serveth to no other turne, but to lend her name to such as will seeme to doe well, when they doe evill against their owne consciences, therein following the doc­trine of Machiavell: Murderers therefore & massacrers, may well from henceforth cover themselves, with the name of abreviators of justice, without reprehension, see­ing officers of justice take also that trade upon them, and cause as unjust and wicked executions to bee done as they. Both of these truely (according to this Maxime of Machiavell) doe pretend for their mischievous wickednesse, a laudable end, and I doe say, it is to minister and exercise justice, when they doe the aforesaid executions: Others cover their murders with another end; namely, the publike good, saying that their murders and massacres, are done to shun a greater evill, which would have come by him or them that they have slaine or murdered. There are some which make a covering of peace and tranquilitie, and so will say, That the murders which they did or caused to bee done, were executed to establish peace, and to make trou­bles to cease. Breefely, after Machiavells doctrine, there cannot bee found so cru­ell a tyrant and murderer, but hee should be justified, praised and remunerated, be­cause all murders, massacres, and assasinates, are alwaies found done to a good end, K and the most cruell hangman and executioners, will never want a colour for their most detestable and sanguinarie actions. Notwithstanding what pallations & shewes so ever that take, the worke alwaies shewes who was the workeman; and in the end their colours will deceive them, like the deceitfull painting of harlots: so that their maske or visard taken from them, murder will alwayes bee found murder, and theft, theft, and they wicked men, as they are, although most subtillie they play the [Page 229] Foxes, according to their masters doctrine, yet in the end, they wil be alwaies known Murder is alwaies murder, to whatsoever end it bee done. A for Foxes: And though they sometimes deceive, before they bee knowne, they are therefore after, double punished, in regard of the profit they get by deceiving, when none will beleeve or trust them in any manner, no not even then, when they have an intention and will, not to deceive at all: For alwaies men presume of them, as men ought to presume of deceivers and wicked men, which are without faith and promise, for men hold them for such, and they can bee held for no other, in regard of their actions and behaviours, of their lives past. This then is the first evill procee­ding from Machiavells doctrine, which is that they themselves which practise it, bring evill to themselves, and are discryed, hated and evill beloved of all men.

The other inconvenience, which followeth this Maxime, is that, if the prince per­mit B Crueltie o­verthrow­eth justice. men to commit murders, under colour of a good intent and end, hee shall breake the order of justice, which hee ought to observe, in the punishment of of­fenders, and so shall turne all upside downe, and bring his estate and countrey into confusion and perill: for when justice goeth evill, all goes evill, & when well, all goes well, as in another place shall bee shewed more at full. Murders and massacres also never remaine long unpunished; for God incontinent sendes them their reward, as came to Romulus (Machiavells owne example) who was an unjust murtherer, and in the end was murdered himselfe. And in our time wee see examples enough, and I beleeve wee shall see more, in such as the hand of God hath not yet touched: But amongst these evills and inconveniences, which ordinarily lay hold of these murde­rers, C and follow them, even to their graves, with furies, feares, and torments, which vexe their consciences, I could heere alledge, for a confirmation of this Maxime, that which S. Paul saith, That we must not doe evill, that good may come thereof: But I have alreadie said in another place, thar I will not imploy the sacred armour of the holy scripture, to fight against this profane and wicked Atheist, but I will still give him this advantage, to contend with his owne armes; namely, with profane authors, which were not Christians, and which heerein alone resemble him; for in other things hee holds nothing of them, and especially in the matter whereof wee speake, they have beene most farre from his detestable doctrine.

When Tarquin the proude king of Rome, saw that hee had so behaved himselfe, Titus Livius lib. 1. 21. Dec. D as he had utterly lost the amitie of his subjects, then resolved to cause himselfe to be obeyed by feare; and to bring it to passe, hee tooke to himselfe, the knowledge of capitall causes against great men, which before appertained to the Senate, to make himselfe the better feared and obeyed, and so hee put to death, such as he thought good, under certaine pretextes and colours, thinking thereby the better to assure his estate; But how did hee assure it? Thus, hee so practised this doctrine of Ma­chiavell, that hee became extreamely hated of all men, in such sort, as his subjects not being able to beare his tyrannie, did drive him out of his kingdome, where hee miserably died.

And so much there wanteth, that the ancient Romanes delighted in massacring E and slaying, that they hated even the too rigorous punishments of offenders, as the punishment of Metius Suffetius Albanois, who was with foure horses drawne to death, for a strange and damnable treason by him entended: For although he me­rited to bee so handled, yet the Romanes had the crueltie of the punishment in so great disdaine and detestation, that every body turned away their eyes (saith Titus Livius) seeing so villanous a spectable: And it was the first and last time that ever [Page 230] they used that rigorous punishment. Likewise it greatly displeased the Romanes, that some (thinking to doe well) caused to bee slaine a Tribune of the people, a very se­ditious F man called Genutius, who ceased not to trouble the commonwealth, by divi­sions, whereby hee stirred the common people to uproares: If Genutius had had his lawfull tryall, it is likely hee would have beene condemned: but therein there was this mischiefe, that none durst lay hold upon him, for the reverence of his estate, during that yeere, but hee must needes have beene suffered either to doe what hee would, or els to resist his dessignes by other meanes, then by accusation, and not at all to condemne him, before hee were out of his office: This seemed a goodly co­lour to dispatch him, to shun seditions and troubles, which this Tribune raised, yet the execution which was made without course of law, was found nought, and of an evill example and consequence, and was the cause of great mischiefes and broyles G which followed after.

And as for that which Machiavell writeth, that Romulus caused to slay Tatius Dioni. Halic. lib. 2. Titus Livi. lib. 1. Dec. 8. his companion in the kingdome, the better to rule and governe the towne of Rome, this is false: for histories doe witnesse, that after hee had caused this execution to be made, hee became cruell and proud, towards the Senators, exercising tyrannie in many things, insomuch as the Senators themselves slew him, even in the senat house, and cut him in little pieces, whereof every man tooke one piece in his bosome: so that the bodie of Romulus was not found: for they hired one to say that hee did see the bodie flie into heaven, and the said Senators helping this bruite and report, Plutarch in Romulo. placed him in the letanie of their Gods, and persuaded the people, that hee ascen­ded H into the heavens both in body and soule. But they gave Romulus his reward, for the murdering of his brother Remus, and his companion Tatius, and they murde­red him, as hee had done them. For briefely it is a generall rule, that murderers are alwaies murdered, which rule hath seldome any exceptions.

But whereas Machiavell saith, That well to rule and governe a common wealth, there would bee but one person to medle therein, there hath beene alwaies the con­trarie Titu [...] Livi. lib. 3. Dec. 8. practised. When the Romanes thought it good, by good lawes and ordinan­ces to governe the estate of their common weale, they considered, that the number of two Consuls (which were their soveraigne magistrates) were too few, and there­fore they abrogated and tooke them cleane away, and elected ren men in their pla­ces, Dionisius. 14 Halic. lib. 10 I unto which they gave the same authoritie, which the Consuls before had, and especially gave them power and expresse charge, to make lawes and ordinances, for the pollicie, government and justice of the common weale. They made the lawes of the twelve tables, which endured long after them, yea at this day some of these are in good use and observance. Naturall reason also sheweth us, that a law and rule made and examined by many braines, must needes bee better, than when it is made by one alone: but because I have touched this point more at large in another place, I will wade no further therein.

As touching that which Machiavell saith, of Agis, Plutarch in his life, speak­eth otherwise thereof; for hee saith, that hee was the most meeke and quiet man, in K Plut. in Agid the world, who sought to reforme the estate of Sparta, by all good and honest meanes, and to bring into force and use, the ancient lawes of Licurgus: and be­cause the Ephori opposed themselves against his desseignes and purposes, hee prac­tised that Lysander and Agesilaus, should bee advanced to the estate of Ephori, as they were: But Agesilaus, overtaken with auarice, refused to sticke to the effecting of [Page 231] this good purpose of king Agis, so that he could not any way bring to passe that A good reformation which hee intended. Heere is all which Plutarch saith, he speakes no word that Agis should cause the Ephori to bee slaine, but contrary that the Ephori brought Agis to his death, neither speakes hee of any enterprise of the Macedonians: And I know not where Machiavell hath fished for that hee heere writeth, unles hee take it out of his owne braine, and then oweth hee nothing to any man, seeing it is his owne: But howsoever it bee, hee can learne it of no au­thor, which shall not bee alwaies convinced of a lie, by that learned Plutarch, who speaketh as I have set it downe.

14. Maxime. B

‘A prince ought to exercise crueltie all at once, and to doe pleasures by lit­tle and little. C’

HE vvhich vvill invade a principalitie (saith our Floren­tine) Cap. 17. Of the prince. vvhatsoever, is to bee sharpely and cruelly practi­sed, vvould at the first entrie bee dispatched vvith all ex­pedition, that there may be no occasion to returne of­ten to one businesse, to the end, that afterward by gra­cious and good dealing he may the sooner bring under and tame his subiects: for iniuries and offences ought to be committed all at once, that beeing the lesse time felt by subiects, they may stirre and anger D them the lesse: And contrarie, pleasures must be done by little and lit­tle, that by often iteration thereof, they upon vvhom such benefites are bestowed, may the more desirously and pleasantly drinke them up, and imprint them in their hearts. It is true indeed, that many there have been, vvhich because they vvere cruell, could not long time continue their principallitie in peace; but that happened unto them, because their cruelties vvere not handsomely and vvell exercised: But they may bee accounted vvell exercised, vvhen they are committed but once, as it vvere upon a necessitie to assure himselfe, and to avoid and shun a E greater inconvenience, for augmentation of the Commonweale. Aga­thocles the Sicilian, by the practise of this Maxime, became king of Si­racuse: This gallant vvas but a potters sonne, and all his life vvicked and full of vices; yet those his vices vvere accompanied vvith a great [Page 232] bravenesse of courage he followed armes: By little and little he did so F much by his iournies, that he became Praetor of Siracuse; and being in that estate, desirous to make himselfe king, and to usurpe the tyran­nie, he caused the people and the Senat of Siracuse to bee assembled, making them understand, that he vvould execute some great matters of importance before them. The people and the Senate being assem­bled (at a vvatch word he had given unto his soldiers) they put to death all the Senators and the most noble of the people, and so made him­selfe soveraigne lord of the towne without any empeachment. Who­soever then considereth the prudence of Agathocles, and the greatnes G of his courage, to enterprise and to execute so great a thing, mē would not iudge him inferiour to any other captaine before him. In our time during the raign of Pope Alexander the sixt, Oliver de Ferme was edu­cated and brought up young, by one that vvas his mothers brother, called Iohn Foglian, vvho sent him to learne the militarie art under cap­taine Paulus Vitellius, thereby to come unto some honourable estate. This Oliver being a gallant and personable man, and of a quicke vvit, after a good space he had followed the vvarre a la Solde, for vvages, he H scorned this base manner of life, and determined vvith the helpe of certaine citizens of the towne of Ferme, to get possession, & to make himselfe master and lord of the towne: To obtaine this, he vvrit a letter to his uncle Iohn Foglian, whereby he signified, That wheras he having been long time out of his countrey, had not all the time seene his pa­rents and friends, and now comming to visit them, that they of the towne might thinke he had been honorably employed in his pursute of vvarre, desired his said uncle to find meanes that he might as hono­rably enter, with an hundred horse of his friends and servants; and that I he would doe so much as in some good order also to meet him; vvhich should be not only to his honour, but also to his uncles that had nou­rished him Messier Iohn greatly reioyced at these newes, and failed in nothing to prepare all that vvas possible to honour his nephew; inso­much, as the vvhole towne every vvay celebrated and reioiced at his comming thither, conducting him vvith all honour agreeable to his discent, unto the Towne-house, vvhere he abode certain daies, whilest he made all things readie for the execution of his enterprise: At the last K he prepared a great banket, unto which hee invited his uncle, and all other most noble persons of the towne of Ferme: At the bankets end, he begun to fall into talke of weightie matters concerning Pope Alex­ander and his son the duke de Ʋalentinois, and their enterprises, wher­unto [Page] his uncle, making a certaine answere; Oliver began to smile, and A vvithall told him, that such an answere vvould have been made more private, as also all their vvhole talke of that matter: Therefore giving them to understand, that he vvould discover unto them certain secrets of that matter, he drevv them apart into a chamber, and as soon as his uncle and the noblest & greatest of the cōpanie vvere there set down, suddainly entred a great company of souldiors (vvhich he had hired and hid in some place nigh)vvho massacred and put to death in a mo­ment his owne uncle and all the others in his companie: This murder being executed, Oliver being followed of his soldiors, overran straight B all the towne, besieged the soveraigne magistrate in his pallace, and did so much, as finally every one vvas constrained to yeeld him obe­dience: This done, he made himselfe soveraigne lord of the town, and he there established a certaine polliticke government, but yet caused all such to be slain as might be malecōtent vvith that change, or could any vvay hurt him: And vvithin a little vvhile after, by good, civile, and militarie ordinances, he not only made himselfe assured in the seigno­rie of the citie of Ferme, but also made himselfe redoubted of all his C neighbours: Yet the evil lucke vvas, that he suffered himselfe to be de­ceived by Caesar Borgia, vvho by faire vvords drew him to Sinagallia, vvhere catching him, hee caused him to be hanged and strangled, and if had not been this evill adventure, he vvas a man likely to have done great things.

MAchiavell persisterh in giving tyrannicall precepts unto a prince, teaching him by this Maxime a very exquisite meane, to tame a people newly reduced into his obedience, & to ob­taine D their grace and favour: That is (saith he) that a prince at his first entry and at once doe make an horrible slaughter of al such, as he doth suspect might hinder his deseignes and pur­poses; the others which remaine, he may bring on with gentle­nesse, and assure them unto him, by bestowing pleasures upon them by little and little. But I pray you, is there so brutish a man in the world, who sees not the absurditie and wickednesse of this doctrine? How is it possible, that a Great crueltie cannot be put oat of mens hearts. prince should make himselfe either loved or obeyed in a new conquered country by such barbarous usage, seeing they themselves, which use all the kindnesse they can, have much a doe to obtaine it? Assuredly, there is no nation so effeminate and ser­vile, E that will not suffer themselves to be cut in pieces, before they will subject them­selees under such a prince, whose entrie hath been so cruell and sanguinarie, as Ma­chiavell counselleth: yet if it so fall out, that for a time a people be forced under such a yoke, it is impossible that such a subjection should longer endure than that force continueth. The example alledged of Oliver de Ferme, doth well shew it: for he con­tinued not long, no more than did Caesar Borgia, who by the like meanes had usurped [Page 234] the domination of Romania, as hath beene before said. But can a man imagine a F more cruell and detestable act, than that which Machiavell rehearseth of Oliver de Ferme? who (under the pretext of amitie) massacred most wickedly his owne pa­rents, and such as had given him so honourable an entertainment as was possible? Yet Machiavell proposeth this gallant example, for a prince to imitate, as hee had before done, with the example of Caesar Borgia: And as for Agathocles, true it is (as Suidas and others write) hee usurped the tyrannie of Sicile, by causing with treason and treacherie the chiefe rulers of Siracuse to bee slaine: but what end made hee also? even such as hee merited: For, being desirous to make great his domina­tion over Italie; hee thought best to practise with intelligencers, which kept not their word with him, insomuch as his purpose being broken and anihilated, by the same meanes of treason and unfaithfulnesse, by which hee made himselfe great, hee died G with griefe and heavinesse of minde. And still are not these the judgements of God, who ruinates tyrants by the same waies, which hee suffers them to get up and come to advancement? And although Agathocles had so bad an end, as his life also had beene very wicked, yet dare Machiavell compare him with the greatest and most vertuous captaines, that have in times past beene, and to offer him as an example, for a prince to imitate: So that men may well say, that this wicked Atheist, hath no other purpose in his bookes, than to persuade a prince to become a tirant and most wic­ked, by embrasing all vices, and chasing away all vertue: but heeretofore I have suf­ficiently discoursed upon the effects of crueltie, and therefore neede speake no more heereof. H

But is not this a wise reason, to say, That crueltie ought to be exercised all at once, that it may not bee too often felt, as that is which is practised by little and little at many times: And why? that which is practised all at once is not felt, but at the instant it is practised: Nay contrarie wee commonly see, that such great cruelties as men commit against a great number of persons, doe so wound and irritate the hearts of all the kinsefolke and friends of them that bee murdered, that they feele it during their lives, yea sometimes the wound bleedeth even to the third generation: But the cruelties which are committed at many and divers times, doe not so farre pene­trate the courage, nor pricke men so lively to the quicke, although continuance encreaseth discontentment. No man also can deny, but that it is a thing far more I fearefull and horrible to our senses, to see a great slaughter, and a great heape of murdered persons, than to see one onely or two: And no man can promise to him­selfe, that that prince will handle him kindlie, who practseth such a generall massa­cre and slaughter, as Machiavell counselleth, whatsoever good counte­nance hee after sheweth of his gentle and kinde carriage: For the first apprehension of his crueltie, will bee found so fast sticking and engraven in the hearts of men, that no demonstrati­ons of gentlenesse and humilitie succeding, can abolish or rase it out. K

15. Maxime. A

‘A vertuous tyrant to maintaine his tyrannie, ought to maintaine parti­alities and factions amongst his subiects, and to sley and take away such as love the commonwealth. B’

IT most commonly happeneth (saith Machiavell) in coun­tries governed by princes, that that which is profitable to Discourse lib. 2. cap. 2. and lib. 3. cap. 3. him, is damageable to subiects, and that which is profitable to his subiects, is damageable unto him: Which causeth oftentimes princes to become tyrants, better loving their profit, than their sub­iects: As also the contrary makes subiects often arise against their prince, not able to endure his tyrannie and oppression. To keepe sub­iects C then, that they doe not conspire and agree together to arise a­gainst his tyrannie, hee must nourish and maintaine partialities and factions amongst them: For, by that meanes shall you see, that distrus­ting one another, and fearing that one wil accuse and disclose another, they will not dare to enterprise any thing: But heerewithall hee must cause all them to be slaine, which love libertie, and the commonwealth and which are enemies to tyrannie. If Tarquin the last king of Rome, had well observed this Maxime, and had caused Brutus to bee slaine, no man would have beene found, that durst have enterprised any D thing against him, and then might hee alwaies after, have exercised his tyrannie at his pleasure without controlment.

HEere before Machiavell hath shewed, how a prince should best become a tyrant; namely, by exercising all manner of crueltie, impietie, and injustice, after the examples of Caesar Borgia, of Oliver de Ferme, and of Agathocles: Now hee shewes how hee in his tyrannie, may maintaine and conserve himselfe, that is, by feeding and maintaining partialities and divisions amongst his subjects, E and in causing such to die, as appeare to bee curious lovers of the common weale, because none can love the good and utilitie of the common-weale, but hee must bee an enemie of tyrannie: as contrary, none can love tyrannie, but hee must needes bee an enemie to the common weale: For, tyrannie draweth all to him­selfe, and dispoileth subjects of their goods and commodities, to apropriate all to himselfe, making his particular good of that which belongeth to all men, and [Page 236] applying to his owne private profit and use, that which should serve to all men in F Tyrants draw all to themselves. generall: So that it followeth, that whosoever loveth the profit of a tyrant, by conse­quent hateth the profit of his subjects, and hee that loveth the common good of subjects, hateth also the particular profit of a tyrant. But thus speaking, I doe not meane of tributes, which are lawfully levied upon subjects: for the exaction of taxes, may well bee the worke of a prince, and of a just ruler, but wee speake of the proper and particular actions of tyrants.

Surely indeede if there bee any proper and meete meane to maintaine a tyran­nie, it seemes well, that that which Machiavell teacheth is one, To maintaine sub­jects Titus Livius lib. 4. Dec. 4. in partialities and devisions: For as Quintius saith, (when he exhorted the townes of Greece, to accord amongst themselves) Against a people which are in a good unitie amongst themselves, tyrants can doe nothing, but if there bee discord G amongst them, an overture is straight made, for him to doe what hee will: I freelie then confesse (& if I would deny it, experience prooves it) that in this point Machia­vell is a true doctor, who well understands the science of tyrannie, & no man can set downe more proper precepts, for so wicked a thing, than such as this Maxime containeth; namely, to sley all lovers of the commonwealth, and amongst other subjects to maintaine partialities. Surely if anything serve to maintaine a tyrannie, these seeme most proper and covenable: for they are made from the same mould that tyrannie it selfe is, and drawne from one same spring, of most execrable wicked­nesse and impietie. H

But yet I will hold, that neither these tyrannicall precepts, nor any others can long maintaine a tyrant, or a tyrannie: For the ordinance of God, being farre Tyrants are impious. stronger than the detestable precepts of Machiavell, repugneth them, and never suffereth tyrannie to bee of any long endurance; as wee have before shewed, by the examples of Nero, Caligula, Caracalla, and Domitian, as Sophocles saith:

No man did ever see,
Sopho. in A [...]ac. Flagel.
A tyrant once to proove godlie.

And because tyrants are alwaies full of impietie, God (with whom they strive) I brings his justice upon them, yea commonly he makes them passe the edge of the sword, or else to die some other strange and violent death: For as Iuvenall saith:

A tyrant seldome life doth end,
But by the sword, which God doth send.
Corneli. Taci Annales. 5.

And besides that, God brings them to a tragicall and miserable end, even du­ring their lives, are they continually tormented in their consciences with feares, di­strusts, and furies, which so trouble them day and night, that they obtaine no rest. To this purpose Tacitus rehearseth, That when the emperour Tiberius was come to the K highest degree of his tyrannie, remaining in a place nigh to Rome, called Cheuri­eres, he writ a letter to the Senat, which shewed, that he felt himselfe every day more and more tormented and troubled in conscience, because of the cruelties and inju­stices which he exercised. This is then not without cause (addeth Tacitus) that an ex­cellent wise man affirmeth (meaning Plato) That if tyrants soules might be seene un­covered, a man should see them torne and wounded with blowes of crueltie, riotous­nesse, [Page 237] and wicked counsell, as we see bodies ulcerated with rods and cudgels. What A pleasure could Denis the tyrant of Sicilie have, who trusted none? Also when one day a certaine philosopher told him, that he could not be but happie, who was so rich, so well served at his table, and had so goodly a pallace to dwell in, and so richly furni­shed: he answered him: Well, I will shew thee how happie I am: and withall hee led that philosopher into a chamber gallantly hanged with tapistrie, and caused him to be laid on a guilded rich bed to repose himselfe; there were also brought him exqui­sit and delicate viands, and excellent wines: but whilest certaine servants made these provisions for Monsieur the philosopher, who was so desirous of a tyrannicall feli­citie, another varlet fastened by the hilts to the upper bed feeling, a bright shining sharpe sword, and this sword was hung only in a horse haire, the point of it right o­ver B the philosophers face so newly happy, who incontinent as he saw the sword hang by so small a thread, and so right over his visage, lost all his appetite to eat, drinke, or to muse at, or contemplate the excessive riches of the tyrant, but continually cast his sight upon that sword: And in the end he prayed Denis, to take him from the sup­posed beatitude, wherin he was laid: saying, That he had rather be a poore philoso­pher, than in that manner to bee happie: ‘Did not I then say well to thee (answered the tyrant) That we tyrants are not so happie as men thinke, for our lives depend al­wayes upon a small thread?’

What repose could Nero also have? who confessed, that often the likenesse of his mother (whome hee slew) appeared to him, which tormented and afflicted him; Sueto. in Ne­ro, cap. 34. C and that furies beat him with rods, and tormented him with burning torches? What delicatenesse or sweetnesse of life could Caligula and Caracalla have? which caused alwaies to be carried certaine coffers full of all manner of poysons, as well to poyson Tyrants tormented of furies. others as themselves in cases of necessitie, for feare they should fall alive into the hands of their enemies. Heliogabalus also, what comfort had he in the world? who provided alwayes cords of silke to hang himselfe in, and brave poynards and golden swords, exceeding sharpe, in like manner at a need to sley him. And indeed it is one of the greatest wisdomes that can be in a tyrant, to take a good course for his death, when it is necessarie and expedient for him: for they are often troubled, & doe come short therein: as we see of Nero, who in his need could find no man that would sley D him, but he was forced to sley himselfe: True it is, that his secretarie held his hand, that with more strength and lesse feare he might dash the dagger into his throat, yet neither his secretarie nor any other person would of themselves attempt it. If this secretarie had been one of Machiavels schollers, it is likely he would have prooved more hardie.

But we have to note, as well upon this Maxime, as upon the former, that as by his precepts here, Machiavell tendeth and goeth about to forme a tyrant, that also we ought to hold for a true tyrant, every prince and ruler, which useth these precepts, Markes of tyrants. and practiseth them: that is, hee which useth the cruelties before commended by Machiavell, which maintaineth his subjects in division and partialitie, and which E seekes to sley all them which love the commonweale, and which desire a good re­formation & a good policie in the commonweale: There are also other tokens and markes whereby to know a tyrant, as them which wee have before alledged out of doctor Bartolus, and them also which hystoriographers have marked to have been in Tarquin the proud: For they say, when he changed his just and royall domination Dioni. Halic. lib. 4. into a tyrannicall government, he became a contemner and a despiser of al his sub­jects, [Page 238] as well the meane people, as the nobilitie and Patritians; he brought a confusi­on F and a corruption into justice; he tooke a greater number of waiting servants into his guard, than his predecessors had; he tooke away the authoritie from the assembly of the Senate, which it alwaies before had; moreover, hee dispatched criminall and civile causes after his fancie, and not according to right; hee cruelly punished such as complained of that change of estate, as conspirators against him; he caused many great and notable persons to die secretly without any forme of justice; hee imposed tributes upon the people against the auncient forme and regalitie, to the impoveri­shing and oppression of some more than of others; hee had also spies to discover what was said of him, and afterward punished rigorously such as had blamed either him or his government: These be the colours wherewith the hystories do paint Tar­quin, G when of a king he became a tyrant: and these are ordinarily the colours and li­verie of all tyrants banners, whereby they may be knowne. It seemeth that Tarquin forgot nothing of all that a tyrant could doe, but that he slew not Brutus, which was a fault in the art of tyrannie (as learnedly Machiavell noteth it) which fell to bee his ruin: But the cause hereof was, that Brutus in the court counterfeted the foole, wher­by Tarquin had no suspition of him: For none but wise men and good people are suspect and greevous to tyrants, but as for counterfeting fooles, unthrifts, flatterers, bauds, murderers, inventors of imposts, and such like dregs and vermine of the peo­ple, they are best welcome into tyrants courts: yet even amongst them are not ty­rants alwaies without danger: for amongst such fooles sometimes happeneth a Bru­tus, H who at last will plat out their ends: so that ever their lives hangs by a small thred, as Denis the tyrant sayth.

But the example of Hieronimus (another tyrant of Sicilie) is to this purpose well to be noted. This Hieronimus was the sonne of a good and wise king, called Hiero, (whom also they well called tyrant, because he came not to that estate by a legitimate title, although he exercised it sincerely and in good justice) who when he died, left this Hieronimus his sonne very young and under age: For the government therefore of him and of his affaires, he gave him fifteene tutors, and amongst them Androno­dorus and Zoilus, his sonnes in law, and one Thraso, which he charged to maintaine the countrey of Sicilie in peace, as he himselfe had done by the space of fiftie yeares I of his raigne: but especially that they should maintaine the treatie and confedera­tion, which he had all the length of his time, duly observed with the Romanes. The said tutors promised to performe his request, and to change nothing in the estate, but altogether to follow his footsteps. Straight after Hiero was dead, Andronodorus being angry because of so many tutors, caused the king (who was then but 15 yeares old) to be proclaimed of sufficient age to bee dismissed of tutors, and so dispatched himselfe as well as others, of that dutifull care they ought to have had of their king and countrey: After, he got to himselfe alone the government of the kingdome, and to make himselfe to bee feared under the kings authoritie, hee tooke to him a great number of waiters for his guard, and to weare purple garments and a diademe upon K his head, and to goe in a coach drawne with white horses, altogether after the man­ner of Denis the tyrant, and contrary to the use of Hieronimus: yet was not this the worst; for, besides all this, Adronodorus caused the yong king his brother in law, to bee instructed in pride, and arrogancie, to contemne every man, to give audi­ence to no man, to bee quarelous, and to take advantage at words; of hard accesse, given to all new fashions of effeminacie and riotousnesse, and to bee unmeasurable [Page 239] cruell, & thirstie after bloud. After Andronodorus had thus framed to his minde this A yong king, a conspiration was made against him (unto which Andronodorus was consenting) to dispatch and sley him, but it was discovered, but yet executed, which A conjura­tion disco­vered, yet executed. was strange: For one Theodorus was accused, and confessed himselfe to bee one of the conspiracie: but being tortured and racked to confesse his complices and parte­ners in that conspiracie, knowing he must needs die, and by that meanes desiring to be revenged of that yong tyrant, he accused the most faithfull and trustiest servants of the king: This young tyrant rash & inconsiderat, straight put to death his friends and principal servants by the counsell of Andronodorus, who desired nothing more, because they hindered his deseignes: This execution performed, incontinent this yong tyrant was massacred and slain upon a straight way by the conspirators them­selves, B which before had made the conjuration, the execution whereof was the more easie, by the discoverie thereof, because (as is said) the tyrants most faithfull friends and servants were slaine. Soone after the tyrants death, Andronodorus obtained the fortresse of Siracuse, a towne of Sicilie: but the tumults and stirres which he raised in the countrey (as he thought for his owne profit) fell out so contrarie to his expe­ctation, that finally he, his wife, and all their race, and the race of Hieronimus were extermined, as well such as were innocent, as they that were culpable. And so doth it ordinarily happen to all young princes, which by corruption are degenerated into tyrants: So fals it out also to all them, which are corrupters of princes, to draw them into habits of all wickednesse. C

Lastly, here would not bee omitted altogether this wickednesse of Machiavell, who confounding good and evill together, yeeldeth the title of Vertuous unto a ty­rant: Is not this as much as to call darkenesse, full lightsome and bright, vice good and honourable, and ignorance, learned? But it pleaseth this wicked man thus to say, to plucke out of the hearts of men, all hatred, horror, and indignation, which they might have against tyrannie, and to cause princes to esteeme tyrannie, good, hono­rable and desirable.

16. Maxime. D

‘A Prince may as well be hated for his vertue, as for his vice.’

THe emperour Pertinax (saith Machiavell) vvas elected emperor Cap. 19. Of the prince. E against the vvils of his men of vvarre, vvhich before had custo­mably lived licentiously in all vices and dissolutenesse under the em­perour Commodus, his predecessor: insomuch, as Pertinax, a vvise and vertuous prince, vvas hated of his men of vvarre, because they feared [Page 240] he vvould reforme them and bring them into their old militarie disci­pline. F The like happened to the emperour Alexander, a prince en­dowed vvith many goodly vertues. Hereupon ye may note (saith he) that mallice and evill vvill is acquired and got, as vvell amongst men by their vertues, as by their vices: And therefore if a prince vvill con­serve himselfe in his estate, he must accommodate and apply himselfe to the humors of such as can hurt him, hee must also imitate and fol­low their vices and corruptions: For in such cases, good vvorkes and vertues are pernicious and contrary unto them.

TO the end that a prince, if he have any love & inclination to vertue, G may utterly despoile himselfe of all, and make no accout of it, but as a thing not only unprofitable, but domageable also, Machiavell here proposeth this Maxime: as though he would say, that betwixt vertue and vice there is no difference; and that it makes no matter which of them a prince doe follow, provided, that hee follow that which will be most profitable to maintain him: And because vice seemes to be most sit to maintaine a tyrannie, his counsell is, that a prince should follow it: And if any will replie hereunto, that vice will make a man be hated and evill beloved of all the H world, yea, and of his owne subjects, he answereth, that so will vertue doe also, and al­ledgeth the examples of two emperours, Pertinax and Alexander Severus, which (saith he) were hated of their souldiers for their vertues. I pray you is there any de­vill in hell that could sow and maintaine a more wicked doctrine than this? If we take away the difference of vice and vertue, and that we make them but one, wherein dif­fer we from brute beasts? Surely herein only, that we shall be more full of vices and wickednesses than they are, because the spirit of man is more readie to invent al sorts of vices and deceits, than the nature of beasts: But the common sence, reason, and judgement of all men, and the daily experience which we perceive with our eyes, do manifestly shew us, that as well in this Maxime, as in others, Machiavell is a most impudent lier: For not only all good and vertuous princes have alwayes beene well I Good prin­ces loved, & evill princes hated. beloved and liked, but also the vicious and wicked princes have alwayes been & are evill beloved and hated of all the world, if it bee not long of their flatterers, which make a shew they love them, whilest they have means to draw any profit from them. But because I have somewhat at large handled this point by examples, in another place, where I spoke of the friendship of flatterers, I need not againe here to re­peat it.

Yet I must needs say and confesse, touching men endowed with excellent vertues, that sometimes it fals unto them, as it doth to men which be bleare and weake eyed, touching the light of the Sunne: for like as they cannot beare nor endure the light K and brightnesse of the Sunne beames: so men of small vertue cannot abide and en­dure men of great and excellent vertue: As many times it fell out amongst the A­thenian people, which could not suffer men in whom appeared vertues more great and iminent, in comparison of the common vertues of other men: insomuch, as they had a law in their commonwealth, whereby from tenne yeare to tenne yeare they banished ever, some of the most excellent persons of their citie, and they called [Page 241] that law, the law of Ostracisme: and their reason was, because people of high vertue A were something suspected, that they would seize upon all the domination of the commonwealth, if they should be alwayes suffered to encrease: And it may be this reason was not altogether impertinent in the popular estate of the commonwealth of Athens, where there was some likelyhood, that a great man endowed with great vertues, might by little and little steale away the peoples hearts and favour, and after­ward to take to himselfe the sole domination and authoritie of the commonweale: and notwithstanding they had this law at Athens, which they often practised against the greatest and most vertuous persons, as against Pericles, Themistocles, Alcibiades, and other such like great and good men: yet this was not because they hated their great vertues; but contrarie they greatly admired them, yet were they suspected un­to B them, and could not endure them by comparison, no more than men that are bleare eyed, can abide the Sunne. And men must not thinke, that when they bani­shed men by their Ostracisme, that therein they imputed unto them any villanie or dishonour, but rather this kind of banishment was honorable, and they which were banished, were esteemed men of great & excellent vertue: True it is, they could have been content to have escaped that honour, as also many persons of base vertue, which would have been glad to have been so banished by an Ostracisme, as it hap­pened to one Hiperbolus, a man of small vertue, whom yet the Athenians so honou­red, to banish him by an Ostracisme, but they never shewed the like favour to any o­ther of his qualitie: Neither was this, because Hiperbolus had committed any fault, C which merited, that they should so banish him; but because it so fell out at the end of ten yeares (at which time they must needs put in practise that law:) The Athenians having then, necessarie use of their good and greatest men, knew not upon whom better to practise it, than upon this bad companion, who with his audaciousnesse and popular sermons, had gathered together great riches: Hiperbolus then (having no long time made himselfe knowne to the Athenian people by his orations) recei­ved this honour and recompence, to bee banished by the Ostracisme, the greatest honour that ever he had in his life. At Rome likewise all the world had in great ho­nour and admiration the great honestie, plainenesse, and severitie to maintain lawes of Cato the lesse, yet the people never emploied him in any great charges or estates, Plutarch in the life of Cato de Vtica D but rather bestowed their likings upon men endowed with meaner vertues: and the Romans could not persuade themselves, that it was expedient for them to elect into the Consulship, or into any other supreme magistracies, any man of excellent ver­tue, such as Cato was, yet could they not but admire and highly praise him. Titus Li­vius Titus Livius lib. 1. Dec. 1. lib 8. Dec. 4. & li. 5. Dec. 5 also witnesseth, That the great vertues of Furius Camillus, Paulus Aemylius, and of Scipio the African, were much admired of that people, yea, praised and exalted even to heaven: but yet were they suspected, and for such accused and rejected: Their accusers could say no other thing against them, but that they were too much hono­red and esteemed, because of the great victories and magnificall triumphs which they had had. Petilius, the accuser of that great Scipio, said, That it was a great shame, E that every man esteemed that the citie of Rome (governesse of the whole world) was as it were hid under the shaddow of Scipio, as though he alone should and ought to have all the honour and credit of the whole commonwealth, and to hold it cove­red under his shaddow: Scipio replied nothing to this accusation, neither knew he in­deed what to replie, unlesse hee had said, that there was no reason his vertue should hurt him: but knowing well that his citizens could not abide him, he banished him­selfe [Page 242] from Rome, and withdrew himselfe to Liternum, into a rurall house which hee F had there, where he finished his dayes: Breefely, then it may bee said, that men are sometimes made suspected (but especially to the common sort of either base or no vertue) because of their great and iminent vertues, but yet neither hated nor de­spised.

But in a prince this ought to have no place; for the more vertuous that men bee, Excellent vertues ought not to be suspe­cted of a prince. the more they ought to love and honour them, and to serve themselves with them: for in so doing, the vertues of such good and vertuous servants are imputed unto the prince himselfe, as we have before shewed; neither can a prince ever draw any great services from men of small vertue: for good services are the effects of vertue: And as no man out of a bush or bramble, can get good peares or other pleasant fruits, because such kind of plants have not that kind of vertue in them to produce G such kind of fruits; in like sort, a prince cannot looke for gallant and good services from vicious men of base vertue: A prince also can have no just occasion to hold for suspected, men of great vertue, for many reasons: first, because such persons have in greater recommendation the integritie of their fame and honour, than men have which are of meane fortune, or (as they say) of a base hand, and therefore will not ea­sily attempt any filthie or wicked thing, which may turne to their dishonor. Second­ly, because seeing themselves beloved, honoured, and recompenced for their good services by their prince, their love and desire well to serve him, will more and more encrease, and so prove a meanes directly contrary to all evill enterprises. Thirdly, be­cause men of excellent vertue are alwaies of generous and great courages & minds: H but it is a thing altogether repugnant to all generositie, to commit wicked enterpri­ses against a good prince: yea, and a worke of faint-hearted villaines. Finally, in the time wherein wee are (principalities and kingdomes being bestowed either by here­ditarie succession, or by the election of certaine nobles, and not by an election tu­multuarie and violent of corrupted persons) they should be very madde, to aspire to his place, or to enterprise any evill against him, to deprive themselves of that good they alreadie enjoy, without all likelyhood to attaine unto better: And if with al this, a vertuous man have any feare of God, he will enterprise no evill against his prince, even for this only cause, that God willeth and commandeth, that we obey our prince and that we honour him above all things in the world: so that he which disobeyeth I him, disobeyeth God; and who despiseth him, despiseth God also: And hereunto, more than to any other reason, ought all such as account themselves Christians, to have especiall regard, to deliver faithfull & voluntarie obedience (seeing God com­mands it) to their lawfull prince.

And as for that which Machiavell sayth, That the emperour Pertinax was hated Capitol. in Pe [...]in. He­rod. lib. 6. of his men of warre, for his vertue, is very false: for although in all other things hee was a notable good and vertuous prince, yet was he much and sore spotted with that filthie vice of covetousnesse and illiberalitie (which hereafter Machiavel teacheth to be a notable vertue for a prince) insomuch, as being come to that high degree of a K Romane emperour, yet commonly dealt he in the traffique of merchandize, for the inordinate desire of gaine: and as soone as he was created emperour, yea, and even by his people of warre, yet was hee so farre from being bountifull in recompensing them, that he cut off from his souldiers, certaine pensions which the emperour Tra­ian his predecessor had given them for their nourishment & maintenance: This co­vetousnesse was the cause he was despised of them and slaine. And as for Alexander [Page 243] Severus, it was also the covetousnesse of Mammaea his mother, which was the cause A that the people of warre hated them, yea, and slew them both together, as Herodian witnesseth, who lived at that time. And therefore the examples of Pertinax and of Alexander, are by Machiavell to no purpose alledged, to shew that princes are hated for their vertues: yet although it were true, that such souldiers as slew Pertinax, were people hating vertue; as also they which slew Alexander Severus (which had ga­thered all corruption of vices under his predecessor Heliogabalus) it followeth not, that of such examples we must make a rule and Maxime: For theeves and murde­rers doe hate justice and magistracie, yet followeth it not, that a prince is not alwaies more loved than hated, by doing good justice. Breefely, such examples are excepti­ons and defailances of the rule, which notwithstanding doe not cease to remaine al­waies B true and certaine, no more nor no lesse, as philosophers say, that that rule is certaine and true, That the Summer is hoter than Winter, although there be some daies in Winter more hot, than there be other some daies in Summer.

17. Maxime. C

‘A Prince ought alwayes to nourish some enemie against himselfe, to this end, that when he hath oppressed him, hee may bee accounted the more mightie and terrible.’

PRinces (saith our Florentine) make themselves great, whē they Cap. 19. Of the prince. D overcome vvaightie and difficult things, vvhich hinder their deseignes: Therefore a good and vvise prince vvith a cer­taine ingenious care, vvill nourish some enemie against himselfe, to the end, that happening to oppresse him, his riches and greatnesse may the better encrease: For such an enemie shall serve him as a suffi­cient matter to encrease his greatnesse, and as a ladder, to ascend the higher.

BEhold a Maxime of the same note as the former, hereunto ten­ding, E That a prince doe alwayes seeke meanes to make himselfe to Tyrants want not enemies. be feared, rather than loved: But a prince which observeth the do­ctrine of Machiavell, needs take no great care to seeke meanes to nourish an enemie against himselfe: for there will bee ynow, and more than one would, both within and without his countrey, yea, [Page 244] in his owne house: But to say that he can oppresse them all, to make himselfe feared F and redoubted, that is no assured thing: but rather contrarie he may assure himselfe, that in the end, either one or other will oppresse and ruinate himselfe. When Mi­licus Cornel. Tacit. Annal. 15. had discovered to Nero a great conjuration practised against him, hee perfor­med that which Machiavell prescribeth: for by oppressing and causing to die, al the conjurators and enemies, and all their friends and allies, he made himselfe so feared and redoubted, that there was not in Rome, great or little, but he trembled for feare, only to heare the name of Nero: Such great men, whose friends and parents were put to death, came and fell downe on their knees before him, and thanked him for the good and honour he had done them, to have purged and cleansed their paren­tage and alliance from so wicked men as those he had slaine: Others in signe of joy G for the death of their friends and parents, caused their houses to be hung with law­rell, and made sacrifices to the gods, to give them thankes for so great a good as was happened unto them: They celebrated also great feasts of joy as they had been ma­riages: The Senate also for their part (being also in a great terrour) ordained, there should be processions and publicke sacrifices, to yeeld thankes to the gods, that this conjuration was discovered; yea, they caused to be builded and consecrated a chap­pell to the Sunne, in the house where the conjuration was made, because it shined to the discoverie therof: They builded also a temple to the goddesse Health. Nero thin­king that all these joyes were true and unfained (yet were they but simulations) exer­cised still more and more his butcherie, and in the end made himselfe so assured, (by H reason he was feared and redoubted of all the world) that he was of opinion, that he had obtained the upperhand of all his enemies: but it was cleane contrarie: For by this strange slaughter with so many other wickednesses, whereof hee was full, hee brought himselfe into a deadly hatred of all the world: insomuch, as the provinces of the empire revolted from his obedience one after another, and in the end he was abandoned of every man, unlesse it were of some foure or five of his meanest ser­vants, which kept him companie in his flight, untill he had slaine himselfe, as is said in another place: therfore Nero needed to take no thought how to nourish enemies against himselfe, as Machiavell teacheth in this Maxime; for hee never wanted a great number, as all tyrants have ordinarily. I

And how should not tyrants have good store of enemies, seeing even good De Com. lib. 1. cap. 107, 108, 109, 100, 111. and wise princes, doe not want them? To this purpose master Phillip de Comines makes a very good discourse, saying, That it pleased God to give to all princes, king­domes, and common weales, an opposit and contrary unto them, that both the one and the other might the rather bee held in their duties; as England hath Fraunce; Scotland hath England; Portugall hath Castile; Grenado hath Portugall; the prin­ces and common weales of Italie, are contrarie one to another, and so it is of all God hath givē to eve­ry seignorie his opposit. countries, and seignories of the earth: For, if there bee any prince or common­weale, which wants his opposite to hould him in feare, straight one shall see him fall to a tyrannie and luxuriousnesse: Therefore God by his wise providence hath K given to every seignorie and to every prince his opposit, that one by the feare of an other, might be stirred up to a modest and temperate carriage. And there is indeed nothing (saith hee) that better holdeth a prince in his duetie, nor which causeth him to walke more upright, than the feare of his opposit and contrary: For the feare of God, nor the love of his neighbour, nor reason (whereof commonly hee hath no care) nor justice (for there is none above himselfe) nor any other like [Page 245] thing can hold him in his duetie, but onely the feare of his contrary. After that Com­ines A had dispatched this question, hee entreth into another, which dependeth heereof: What is the cause (saith hee) that commonly princes and great lords have Princes have not the feare of God, nor of charitie, for want of Faith. not the feare of God, nor love to their neighbours? He answereth, the want of Faith: for if a prince beleeved verely the paines of hell, to bee such as indeed they are, hee would doe no wrong to noe man, nor retaine an others goods unjustly: For, if they beleeved assuredly (as it is true and certaine) that they are damned in hell, and are never like to enter into paradise, which retaine other mens goods, without making satisfaction, or that doe any wrong to any, without amends unto him: It is not like­ly there would bee found a prince or princesse in the world, or any other person, which would with-hold anothers goods (were it of his subjects, vassailes, or neigh­bour B) in good earnest, or would put any to death wrongfully; no, not to hold them in prison, nor take from one to give to another, nor procure any dishonest thing a­gainst any person: If then they had a firme faith, and beleeved the paines of hell to bee horrible and great, without other end or remission for the damned, knowing a­gaine the shortnesse of this life, they would not doe that they doe: And for example (saith hee) when a king or a prince is a prisoner, and that hee feareth to die in pri­son, is there any thing so deere in the world, which hee would not give, to come out? Certainely, hee would give both his owne, and his subjects goods altogether: As wee have seene king Iohn of France, being taken prisoner, by the prince of Wales at the battaile of Poitiers, who paied 3000000 of franks for his ransome, and acqui­ted C to the English all Aquitane, or at least as much as they then held, and many o­ther cities, townes, and places, all which came to the third part of the kingdome, which was thereby brought into great povertie, that no coine was there currant but it was made of leather, with a little naile of silver in the middest of it: And all this gave king Iohn, and Charles the sage his sonne, for the said kings deliverance out of prison: And, if they would have given nothing, yet the English would not have put him to death, but at the worst have kept him in prison: And yet if they had caused him to die, the paine that hee had suffered, had not beene comparable to the thou­sand part of the least paine in hell: Why then did king Iohn give all that hath beene said, and so overthrew his children, and the subjects of his kingdome? because hee D beleeved that which hee saw and knew well, that otherwise hee could hot bee deli­vered. But you shall not finde a prince (or else very few) that if hee had a towne of his neigh [...]ours, would yeeld it for the feare of God, or the paines of hell: It is then the want of faith, because princes beleeve not that God will punish the wrongs they doe to another, and that they doe not also beleeve, that the paines of hell are hor­rible and eternall, as they are. Yet is this certaine, that god will punish them, as well as other men, though not in this world, yet assuredly in the other: Yea will some say, but who will informe against them, or dare stand before God, for that purpose? I answere that the complaints, teares, and clamours of the people, will bee infor­mers, and shall complaine before God against princes; the dolorous and sorrow­full E lamentations of orphants and widowes, whose fathers and husbands they have caused to die, shall stand as complainants before God; and generally all they, which they have afflicted and persecuted in their persons, or in their goods, shall present themselves before our lord, the true judge, with pittious teares and doloures, and shall serve for witnesses and accusors: and God who is a just judge, shall punish such princes, as doe not feare him, and it may bee will not attend to punish them in the [Page 246] other world but in this world: But let them know, that when it pleaseth God to punish F princes, as they are greater than simple people, so hee will bring them to a greater fall: and a true token, that God beginneth to ruinate a prince, is when hee so dimi­nisheth his sences, that he makes him flie the counsell of the wise, and elevateth into Signes of a princes ru­ine. credit with him, new people, violent, unreasonable, and foolish, slothfull, and flatte­rers, which doe and speake all things to please them: for when wee see this happen to a prince, wee may well say, that God prepareth his ruine.

Behold in somme, in his proper tearmes, the opinion of that wise knight Messi­re Phillip de Comines, of the cause why God raiseth enemies unto princes; which opinion truely is very christian, and proceeding from a man of a wise judgement, and well experimented in affaires of State, wherin the said Comines was exercised, by G the space of thirtie yeeres, in the time of king Lewis the eleaventh, and Charles the eight his sonne, in embassages and other great and honourable charges: Hee was no such pettie burnepaper as Machiavell, who dealt in nothing, but in registring and writing of the small broiles and troubles, of one house of the towne of Florence, and comming out of no better aschoole, dare deale to give lessons and documents to princes and mightie kings, to teach them how they should governe, or rather how they should become tyrants: But contrary, he that will reade the hystorie of Comines, shall finde many good precepts, which that good knight hath marked by experience in his time, which indeede are good and proper, as well to informe and instruct a good prince, as they of Machiavell are to informe a most wicked tyrant. H

Vpon this speach above alledged of Comines, that God diminisheth the sences of such princes as hee will ruinat, I will adde for a confirmation, the saying of an an­cient wise man, alledged by the poet Sophocles.

Agreeing well to veritie,
The saying of the wise man is:
Sophocl. in Aulig.
That which most evill you do trie,
Most good it seemes to you iwis.
Thus when wee stir up God to ire,
Hee plagues us much for our desire. I

18. Maxime.

‘A prince ought not to feare to bee periured, to deceive, and dissemble: for K the deceiver alwates findes some which are fit to bee deceived.’

THe prince (saith master Nicholas) which will become great, Discourse lib. 2. cap. 13. & cap. 18. of the prince. and make great conquests, it is necessarie that hee learne well [Page 247] the occupation and art of deceiving, as John Galeace did, who by that A art tooke the dutchie of Millan, from Messire Bernard his uncle: The Romanes also under that name of allies and confederates, so deceived the Latine people and many others, that they reduced them into a servitude and subiection, yet they never espied it, untill the end. True it is, in this art of trompery & deceit, men must needes use great fainednesse, dissimulations, and periuries; and the prince which shall bee heereunto (as it were) made by nature and art, shall alwaies ob­taine prosperous successe in his affaires: For men are commonly so simple, and doe so soone bend to present necessities, that the deceiver B alwaies finds some, which will suffer themselves to be deceived: Heere­upon we may alledge infinit examples of peace, truce, and promises which have beene broken by princes, yet have had good event: And heereof wee may alledge one example of fresh memorie, of Pope A­lexander the sixt, who never did other thing, but made an art of abu­sing men, neither ever applied his minde to other studie, neither ever was there found man, that would confirme his promises with more horrible othes, nor that lesse kept and observed them: Yet his trom­peries C and periuries succeeded all well unto him, for hee knew vvell e­nough therein, how all sorts of men must be handled.

IN this Maxime is an amplification of that which hath beene before set downe by Machiavell, when hee said, That a prince ought to know how to play the Fox; for now explicating, what it is to play the Fox, hee saith, it is to know how to deceive, to dissemble, and to bee perjured; and that a prince ought to bee adorned with these goodly vertues of trompery, dissimulation, D and perjurie: But as for trompery, which men call subtiltie, wee have of it above sufficientlie spoken: And as for perfidie and perjurie, wee shall af­ward speake in another Maxime, and therefore heereupon wee will make no long discourse, because wee will not often repeate one same thing: And withall that there is no man in the world, of so small a judgement, who doth not well see that this Maxime containeth a detestable doctrine, altogether unworthie not onely of a prince, but of every man, of what condition so ever hee bee: And I doe not beleeve that the Bohemians, who goe from countrey to countrey, telling good fortunes, juglers, or rather runnagate roagues, which make an occupation of deceits and abusing of the world, will not condemne this Maxime, as wicked and abhominable, if E they bee made judges.

And as for that which Machiavell saith, That the deceiver will alwayes find some that will suffer themselves to bee deceived, I confesse there will bee ever found some idiot fooles and sots, that he may deceive, yea that sometimes he may deceive sharp witted and wise men: yet notwithstanding, it is as certaine, that there is not so great a deceiver, but he is sometimes deceived: For as soone as a deceiver is discovered to [Page 248] be one, every man takes heed to negotiate and traffique with him, or if they bee for­ced F to have to do with him, for feare to be deceived, they will do their best to deceive The decei­ver is often deceived. him: And herein the most part of the world make no conscience, but thinke it not onely lawfull, but praise-worthie to deceive a deceiver: insomuch, as he which hath once a name to be a cousener and deceiver, all men will dispence with themselves to deceive him if thēy can: and by that meanes the deceiver having cause to take heed of many sundry persons, it is impossible but he should be often deceived, and be of­ten catched in his owne nets. Therefore Machiavell his reason, That the deceiver shall alwayes find them which will be deceived, doth not so well conclude, as it see­meth: For if the deceiver find alwaies some to deceive, he shall also find some which will deceive him: and it may be sometimes, for one that he deceiveth, hee may find sixe which will deceive him: because none can bee so perfect in the art of trompery G (which art Machiavell so much recommendeth to a prince) but also hee shall al­waies finde others, which know more than himselfe in some points, and many toge­ther doe know more than one alone, in all points of that art, one in one point, and another in another: So that in the end hee himselfe shall see alwaies (according to the common proverbe) the deceiver shall bee deceived.

As it happened even to Pope Alexander the sixt, whose example Machiavell heere alledgeth; for the end of all his tromperies and perjuries, was to make his ba­stard Caesar Borgia, lord & king of all Italie, and after, of all christendome if he could: But the issue of his desseignes and purposes was a tragicall act, as wee have before discoursed in another place. Moreover, the cause why that many times this Pope H deceived christian princes, and even the king of France Lewis the twelfth, was: For that in that time men so greatlie feared the Popes bulls and interdictions, and that they beleeved him to bee a true lieutenant of God, on earth, so that they durst not discredit any thing hee did, but rather beleeved all his wordes as oracles: but at this day children would mocke at his actions, and few men will bee baited with his allurements.

But for whereas Machiavell saith, That the ancient Romanes under the deceit of The Ro­manes al­lies & sub­jects were not slaves. those names, Allies and confederats, brought into their subjection and servitude the Latin people their neighbours, is a plaine and pure lie: For they subjugated all men by warre, at divers times as wee reade in hystories. True it is, that after once they van­quished I and brought them under, they then made treaties of peace and confede­rations, which were not greatly to the advantage of such as were overcome, as in reason they might: For if by the right of nations, such as are vanquished by warres, may be bondslaves of the vanquishers: by a stronger reason may the vanquishers re­serve to themselves some preheminence, over the vanquished: But the preheminen­ces which commonly the Romanes reserved to themselves, in all their treaties, were that the allies and confederats, should not make warre upon any without their con­sent, and that they should contribute unto their souldiers in their warres: Moreo­ver they left to all people, their franchises, liberties, goods, religion, magistrates, and all other things, without altering any thing, and without imposing upon them tri­butes K of mony or such like. This cannot bee called a servitude, as Machiavell calls it; or if it bee a servitude, there are no people in christendome, whether they be sub­jects of princes, or common wealthes, which are not in a double, and quadruple servitude.

And whereas Machiavell saith, That a prince ought to know the art of trompery, and [Page 249] deceit, some will aske (to take heede of it) which are the precepts of the art: Wher­unto A I answere for Machiavell, that no man can give precepts, practicale or sin­gular which may bee applied to every busines, to avoide deceit and fraude: But the generall precepts of art (which the philosophers call Axiomes in philosophie) are these; Bouldly to forsweare themselves; Subtilly to dissemble, to infinuate into mens minds and to prove them; To breake faith and promise, and such like as heeretofore wee have handled, and shall doe heereafter: But heere we must note one thing, which is, That one well experienced in the art of trompery, will not alwaies practise that principle, To breake faith, for if he ordinarilie doe it, hee shall offend against an­other principle, which commands, To dissemble subtilly: For by, every where and e­ver breaking of faith, hee shall discover himselfe to bee a manifest deceiver, whereas B hee ought to dissemble, and to make an outward countenance not to bee so, but ra­ther to bee a good and an honest man: And therefore to observe all the principles, of that art together, without breaking one in observing another, hee shall in small matters keepe his faith, to breake it in great things, and in matters of consequence. Heereof Fabius Maximus admonisheth Scipio to take heede: ‘Thou desirest Scipio Titus Livi. lib. 8. Dec. 3. (saith hee) to make warre upon the Carthaginians in Affricke, under an hope thou hast to have the favour of king Siphax, and of the Numidians, which have pro­mised thee aide and succours: But take good advice how thou trustest in the barbarous nations, which commonly make no account to breake their faith & to deceive: True it is, in small matters they will keepe their faith with thee, well to assure thee in C their promise and loyaltie, that they may afterward breake it, to their great profit and advantage, as soone as they see they have meanes and occasion in their hands, altogether to ruinate thee.’ This was the admonition, which that wise Fabius, gave to Scipio, then a yong captaine. What then should a man doe, to guard himselfe from such deceitfull faith of deceivers, which appeeres and shewes it selfe in little things, and is defective in great matters? A man must doe that which Scipio answe­red to Fabius: ‘I know well (lord Fabius saith hee) how a man must leane upon the evill assured faith of Syphax, and the Numidians. I thinke so much to leane, and rest my selfe upon them, as may serve my turne, so that yet alwaies I hold my selfe upon my guardes, to warrant my selfe from all perfidie and treacherie. D’

Moreover there is yet another remedie against such deceivers and dissemblers, which promise much and in their hearts have no other intention, then in no thing to keepe their promises: that is to shun and flie from them, as from hell, and from more than capitall enemies, as Homer teacheth us:

Hee that one thing in heart, another in mouth doth beare:
Fly him an enemie thine, and as hell-fire him feare. E
Homer. Iliad. lib. 9.
[...]

20. Maxime. F

‘A prince, who (as it were constrained) useth Clemencie and Lenitie, ad­vanceth his owne destruction. G’

IN an hundred times (saith Machiavell) it vvill scant happen Discourse, lib. 1. cap. 32. once, that the good and comfort vvhich a prince doth to his subiects, vvhen he seeth himselfe as it vvere forced to doe it, by feare of rebellion, or otherwise, is gratefully received of them: For commonly the people, for benefits so granted by their prince, are not thankefull, but rather thinkes themselves beholden to such as draw their prince unto the bestowing of such benefits upon necessitie and constraint: And this is often the cause that the people seeketh occasi­ons H and meanes to draw the prince into that necessitie. And therfore a prince ought never to attend that extreame necessitie, to shew him­selfe kind and liberall; for there is like to be so little helpe therein, as it vvill rather advance his ruine.

IT should bee best and more expedient, for a prince to prevent all his subjects, with good and courteous dealings, than to at­tend till hee see himselfe constrained to diminish his rigour, I and (as the common proverbe saith) to bend or breake. Not­withstanding the counsell here given by Machiavell, is alto­gether wicked, and cannot but bring into ruin a prince and his estate: for in summe, his counsell is, To hold hard against his subjects, nothing to abate his rigour, nor to use any kindnesse or graciousnesse, then and when he sees himselfe, to doe it, constrained and pressed thereunto. If a prince then will stand stiffe alwayes rigorously to handle his subjects, and to oppresse them, The rigour of a prince is the cause of deniall of o­bedience. without abating any thing thereof, although he heare of their grievances and com­plaints, and that hee see them prepared to rebellion, and to denie their obedience; what other thing can there follow, but the entire ruine of him and his estate? For K wherein consisteth the estate of a prince, but that his subjects agree together for to yeeld him obedience: If then by his obstinate rigour and evill dealing, hee so doe, as he brings his subjects into that necessitie to denie him obedience, will not that be the ruine of him and his estate? There is no man of good judgement, but he knows this: Therefore said the poet Sophocles:

Even as hard steele in fire we see A
In pieces breake most easilie:
So minds too hard and fierce which bee,
Most oft with fall on ground doth lie.

Wherefore this precept whereby Machiavell would make a prince stiffe and in­flexible against his subjects, can bring to him but his owne ruine: as it happened to Roboam the king, who when his people humbly desired an ease and mitigation of their tributes, he obstinately and proudly denied them: For this king following such counsell as Machiavell giveth here, made answere to his subjects, that so much there B wanted, that he had any intent to abate any thing of his former dealing with them, that contrarie he determined to augment rather his rigour towards them: And for this cause did the greatest part of his kingdome cut themselves from his rule and obedience.

And to say, that the people are unthankfull to their prince for benefits accorded Constrai­ned graunts are not without profit. as it were by constraint, this is false, and experience shewes us the contrarie: For the people is not so speculative, that they will cause to seeke out and examine the impul­sive cause, which moved the prince to commit or ordain any thing, but holds them­selves contented with the good and profit which redounds to them by that ordi­nance; and the enjoying of the good they receive, bringeth unto them such a plea­sure C and contentment, as it moves them to thanke their prince for that good, and to praise and blesse him, yea, to pray unto God for his conservation and prosperitie. In all the peace that was made in Fraunce since the civile warres, there hath alwayes been seene an experience thereof: For a man may well say, that the king accorded peace to the Protestants as it were by constraint, which indeede is contained in the edicts of peace: for the king himselfe so declared it in other edicts which hee made when the warre was renued; as he declared by an edict in the yeare 1568, wherein hee saith, That hee had alwayes had in his heart to abolish the religion of the said Protestants, and the cause of his before suffering it, had been as by constraint, and to accommodate himselfe to the time. The Courtiers also have alwayes called it the D Suffered Religion, and the Catholicke Romane, the authorised Religion: Although then that those goodly edicts of peace were accorded by the king against his heart, yet ceased not the people to be thankfull unto the king, yea, to praise and exalt him as a lover of the good, and repose of his poore people, and to blesse and praise God for him both publickely and privately. But put the case, that were true which Ma­chiavell saith, That the subjects of a prince cannot be thankfull for a benefit accor­ded by constraint, it followeth not therefore, that such a benefit and a better hand­ling must needs be unprofitable and without fruit: For certaine it is, that alwaies this will make cease the complaints of the people, and cause them to desist from all re­bellions and whatsoever enterprises are intended & machinated against him. Titus E Livius sheweth us by many examples, this to have many times happened at Rome, where the commons entered into seditions and rebellions against the Patricij, and such as were great men in authoritie, but they were appeased incontinent as soone as the great men graunted that which they desired: And yet wee find not, that the great Patricians and nobles of Rome did almost at any time accord unto the com­mons, but as constrained and against their wills: There was amongst them men of as [Page 254] good wits and judgement, as Machiavell, (such as Coriolanus, Appius, Caeso, Fabius, F and other like) which cried, that they must not accord to common people (under the pretext of their seditions and rebellions) what they demand, because it is an evill ex­ample, and as it were to give occasion to the people ever to rebell, and be seditious, causing their faults to turne to their profit: but notwithstanding all these reasons, the most part of their wise Senators found it more expedient, to bow and give place to the tumultuous people, than to resist them. There hath beene many times seene in Fraunce, rebellions and stirres of the people for new imposts, which straight were stayed, by taking them away: And indeed naturall reason sheweth well, that it ought so to be: For in all things, of what sort soever they bee, as soone as the cause is taken away, men also take away the effect thereof: Moreover, I will not denie but this is of G very evill consequence, that a profit should come of a rebellion and sedition: but upon this point it is worth noting, that seldome or never people arise without some great, just, and urgent occasion: & therefore if the prince have not done his dutie to cut off that occasion before, but that thereby there arise rebellion & sedition, he may not find it strange nor evill, to remedie it, rather late than never, and so to purge his negligence. A prince in stead to harden his heart against his subjects (as Machiavell teacheth) shall doe better, not to bee so obstinate, but to plie and bow his courage, when the good of the commonweale and his owne requireth it? following the ad­monition which that wise knight Phenix gave to the prince Achilles his disciple.

Appease thy selfe Achilles strong, thy hardened heart abate, H
A mortall man it not becomes implacable to bee:
Hom. Iliad. 9.
Though power most, and honour eke on gods attend and wait,
To prayers of us mortall men, yet yeeld they, we doe see▪

Good princes have ever so used, and neve [...] were hindered by Machiavels subtile distinctions: That he which oweth obedience, ought to humble himselfe first, and Foolish di­stinctions of the Machi­avellists. that the prince ought to accord nothing to his subjects, but of his owne proper mo­tion, least he be seene to receive a law of them, unto whom he should give lawes, and that he ought not to capitulate with them: and that it should be a very dishonoura­ble I thing for a prince to be seene doing any thing by constraint and against his will, with many other such speculative, frivolous, and foolish reasons. For wee see by the hystoriographers, that wise princes never regarded such childish reasons, but bowed and mitigated themselves, as they did see the safetie of their subjects, and the con­servation of their owne estates required: And they never esteemed an health­full and good counsell, dishonorable, neither such meanes & con­ditions to be wicked or disadvantageous, when thereby they might conserve the love and obedi­ence of their people. K

21. Maxime. A

‘A wise prince ought not to keepe his Faith, when the observation thereof is hurtfull unto him, and that the occasions for which he gave it, bee ta­ken B away.’

A Prudent and an advised lord (saith Messier Nicholas) neither Cap. 18. Of the prince. & discourse, lib. 3. cap. 42. can nor ought straightly to keep his Faith, vvhen such obser­vation is preiudiciall unto him, and that the occasions and necessities, vvhich caused him to make his promise, are alreadie past and extinguished. If all the men of the vvorld vvere good, this pre­cept vvere to be blamed: but seeing the ordinarie vvickednes of men, C vvhich themselves keepe no Faith; neither is the prince also bound to observe it towards them. Neither is it to be feared, that a prince can­not alwaies find sufficient reasons to cover and colour that violation and breaking of his Faith: Likewise, it must be considered, that all for­ced promises may bee broken (especially vvhen they concerne the Commonwealth) as soone as the force is passed. Hereof do we reade many examples, and this is every day seene and practised in our time, That not onely forced promises are not kept amongst princes after that the force is out, but also all other promises are no more obser­ved, D after that such occasions faile, vvhich vvere the cause of making such promises.

ALthough the other Maximes of Machiavell may bee called wicked and detestable in the higest degree, yet doth this Maxime carrie away the prize above all others, which concerne du­ties amongst men: For whosoever will take away Faith and loy­altie from amongst men (as Machiavell would doe) he withall takes away all contracts, commerce, distributive, and politicke The life and humane so­cietie can­not stand without Faith. E justice, and all societie and frequentation one with another; none of which can stand, but by the observation of Faith. But if it were so, that for want of observation of Faith one towards another, men durst not sell, buy, exchange, lend, or make other contracts, and that men durst not make any commerces of marchandize one with another, nor observe any publicke policie; wherein should we differ from brute beasts? In nothing, but that we should be worse [Page 256] than they: for then every one must dwell by himselfe; there should need no townes F nor borroughes to dwell together, but men might bee vagrant and separated one from another, taking by force the goods one from another: insomuch, as a man might say, that to take away Faith from amongst men (as Machiavell dooth) is to bring them into a brutish estate, wherein they cannot live, nor subsist, nor enjoy the necessarie commodities which one receive of another, and by consequent it is to induce and to bring a ruine and an universall deluge to all mankind. Yet if any Ma­chiavelist will replie, that the intent of their master, is not to take away all Faith from amongst men, but onely to breake Faith, when there is profit in doing it: I answere him, that in effect that is all one, and that these two things are almost equipollent, to take Faith altogether away, and to breake it ever when there is appearance of profit: G For he that buyeth, and promiseth to pay, may say after he hath received the mar­chandize, that by this doctrine he is dispensed withall to pay nothing, because it is for his profit to have both silver and the marchandize: He also unto whome a man lendeth any thing, may say he hath a dispensation from Machiavell, not to yeeld a­gaine that which was borrowed, because it is for his profit to keepe it: And so in all contracts and commerces, men may cover the breach of Faith with the vaile of uti­litie and profit, and by that meanes banish and chase away all Faith from men. Be­hold the effect and consequence, of this detestable and wicked doctrine of Ma­chiavell.

Which to confute, might well suffice the apparent evidence of evill, and the ab­surditie H which followeth thereupon: whereof the most rusticall idiots of the world may judge: Sufficient also were one place of holy Scripture, whereby God com­mandeth us to hold our Faith and promise, yea, to our damage: But I will (as I have said before) combat against this prophane Machiavell, by paynim and prophane authors, and shew him, that he hath but slenderly read his Titus Livius, upon whom he hath written his discourses full of ignorance and wickednesse. Sextius and Lici­nius (Tribunes of the Romane people) to obtaine the favour and grace of meane people endebted, would needs that a law should passe by authority, whereby all deb­tors might preaccount in payment of their debts to their creditors, all the interest money which they had before paied them, and that the rich men which possessed I more than five hundred acres of land, should be constrained to release the land they had more, to be divided amongst the poore. Appius Claudius Crassus, Patrician, op­posed himselfe against this law, and shewed, that it was pernicious and domageable: Because (saith he) by such a law, publicke Faith, which is the bond of all humane so­cietie, is broken: for the goods and possessions which the rich men hold, they have obtained them or their auncestors, by contracts of buying, selling, exchanging, and other like, wherein there alwaies passed Faith and othes: and that therfore they which will take from the rich, that which they have gotten unto them by a good and law­full title, confirmed by that bond of Faith and oath; it were the meanes to abolish, and to take away al Faith from amongst men, without which no humane societie can K stand: and likewise to make creditors leese their debts, by imputing unto them inter­rests long time before paied in satisfaction of the debt; that should be also to breake Faith and promise of obligations, and to make an overture to all deceit and distrust, in such sort, as the contract of love and such like should bee abolished. By those re­monstrances, founded upon good and solid reasons, Appius Claudius hindered that law from passing, or being authorized: there was then such account made of Faith, [Page 257] which they preferred before all difficulties and particular necessities: And afterward, A many times, that law of taking away from rich men that which they possessed more than five hundred acres, was refreshed & brought into question by other Tribunes, to have it to passe, but it never came to effect; yet there arose of it infinite seditions, murders, pilleries, and other innumerable evils: A thing which well sheweth, that the violation of publicke Faith draweth alwayes with it, a great Iliade of evils and Titus [...]ivius lib. 3. Dec. 3. calamities.

The Romanes seeing themselves one day want money for the maintenance of their armies, and paiment of souldiers; the Senat consulted what provision to make for this want: none of them thought it good to impose a taillage or tribute upon the people, which would prove very greevous in many sorts: at last they all agreed, B that souldiers must needs be paid: For (said they) if the commonwealth stand not by Faith, it cannot stand by riches: It were therefore better to spend the good of the commonwealth in loyally paying souldiers wages, and so acquite themselves of their Faith towards them, than to spare the commonwealth by the failing of Faith and word. All the Senat being of this advice, expedient then it was as they thought to find money: and therefore a charge was given to the Praetor Fulvius, in an orati­on to the people, to shew them all their publicke necessities, and to exhort such as were growne rich by farming grounds belonging to the commonwealth, to lay out some silver for the maintenance of the armie in Spaine. Fulvtus so well persuaded, that the farmers accorded to lay downe a certaine summe of money, as much as was C demaunded, upon conditions, to enjoy their farmes for three yeares, and that the commonwealth would take upon them the perils of the sea, which might come unto them in their commerces, by shipwracks and hostile incursions: For they were certaine, that such money as they lent to the commonwealth, was as assured unto them, as in their hands, upon the publicke Faith: and if the Romanes had not had that good reputation, they should not so soon have found money for their need: But they that have that vertue, Well to observe their word, shall never want with whom to contract.

King Perseus of Macedonie determining to make warre upon the Romanes, sent embassadours to the Achaeans, a people of Greece, and allies of the Romanes, to D draw them on his side, and only required of them a Diet, where they were assembled to heare the said embassadors: But Callicratides (a notable man amongst the Achae­ans) was of advice, That they should give no eare unto that king Perseus, nor to his embassadors, because the Achaeans had already confirmed an alliance by Faith and oath with the Romans, & that upon that Faith was founded all the assurance of their estate; and that Faith had that propertie, that it will not be violated nor suspected in any sort whatsoever: And therfore it was a breach of Faith, only to affoord audience Faith will neither be violated nor suspe­cted. to that king, whome they saw plainely prepared to make warre upon the Romanes: This reason founded upon the authoritie of publicke States, was the cause that no­thing was accorded to Perseus. And likewise heereunto accordeth the saying of E the emperour Antonine: That the most lamentable thing in this world is, when Faith is broken and violated by friends, and without the same, no vertue can bee Dion in Mar­cel. assured.

To this purpose, that Faith cannot bee suspected, that is notable, which Fabius Titus Livins lib. 2. Maximus, D [...]ctator, did. Anniball being in battaile array nigh Rome, conceived this subtile device, to ruinate and utterly to destroy all the houses in the fields, both for [Page 258] pleasure and for other necessarie uses, but onely the houses and commodities apper­taining F to Fabius: And this hee did to bring a suspition upon Fabius, that hee had made some secret compact with Anniball against his Faith and dutie. Fabius know­ing well, that it was not sufficient perfectly to observe his Faith, but that also he must be exempt from all suspition, sent straight his sonne to Rome, to sell and rid him of all he had without the towne, which he did: and so assured his publicke Faith, by his particular damage, taking from the people all sinister opinion they might take of him. And assuredly, there is nothing in the world more pleasant, than when Faith is sincerely kept, even in adversitie, and when we have most to doe: Therefore the Ro­manes esteemed such, their good and loyall allies, as kept their Faith loyally, during the time they had warres in hand: as did Ptolomeus, king of Aegypt, when the Ro­manes had to doe with Anniball and the Carthaginians: for he was alwayes firme G in the confederation and alliance which he had made with them; insomuch, as their warre being finished with Anniball, they sent embassadors to Ptolomie, to thank him, for that in their so doubtfull and hazardous affaires, his Faith had not altered, and to pray him to continue.

Attalus, king of Pergamus in Asia, came to the degree of royaltie by his ver­tue: Titus Livius lib. 3. & 7. Dec. 4. for he was neither sonne nor successor of a king, neither had hee the heroicall vertues of Hercules, of Alexander or Caesar to conquer a kingdome: yea, breefely he had nothing in him (saith Titus Livius) that could either aid or bring hope unto him at any time to be a king, but onely riches, which he bestowed and used so well, that by the meanes of them, and by his fidelitie towards the Pergames, he became H king of Pergamus, after he had once vanquished the Gaules of Asia: As soone as he was come to this degree, he allied himselfe by confederations with the Romans, and alwaies kept his Faith perfect and entire: insomuch, as well by the integritie and constantnesse of his Faith, as by good justice, hee raigned foure and fortie yeares, and left his kingdome stable and firme to Eumenes his sonne, whose domination Fidelitie a good inhe­ritance. the Romanes greatly augmented, because he continued in his fathers loyaltie, who at his death charged him, to repute that fidelitie to be the best heritage hee left him.

There was nothing in the world which the old Romanes had in greater reverence Titus Livius lib. 1. Dec. 1. lib. 4. Dec. 3. and observation than their publicke Faith: Therefore had they a temple of Faith, I where men swore and solemnely promised all their treaties of peace, truces, confede­rations, alliances, and other such like, and those who first did violate it, were esteemed dedicated to the gods of hell: and with a like sinceritie did they also observe their Faiths in particular contracts: so that every one thought they could not better as­sure a debt, than in lending to the commonwealth: yea, when by reason of great wars their treasuries were emptie of money, such as had the custodie of pupils and wid­dowes portions, and other like, would bring all to the treasurers of the common­wealth: For every man (saith Titus Livius) thought he could not better place his sil­ver, nor better assure it, than under the publicke Faith. K

When Scipio the Affrican entred into Sicilie, wiih his armie, to passe into Afri­ca, because hee entred into it as a friend, hee would suffer no man to take any thing from the Sicilians: But (saith Titus Livius) thinking that the first thing hee should doe, was to maintaine & defend the publike Faith, hee by a proclamation comman­ded every man in his campe to yeeld, and to give to the Sicilians all their owne what­soever: Hee also deputed judges to heare and determine all complaints, touching [Page 259] such causes: This so pleased the Sicilians, that from thence forward, they shewed A themselves very affectionate to aide the Romanes, in their Affricke warre.

Whilst Anniball was in Italie, Valerius Levinus being Consull, there was a loane of money made of the Romane people: Afterward it came to passe that Scipio hav­ing passed into Affrica with his armie, the Carthaginians sent unto Anniball to come and defend Carthage, and the countries of Affrica, insomuch as he was con­strained against his will to returne: As soone as hee was voided Italie, although the Romanes had not ended their warre, neither were out of great affaires, yet Levinus certified the Senate, that during the time of his consulship, there was a great somme of monie borrowed of the people, that it was time to pay it, and that hee in parti­cular was bound in this case to acquite the publike Faith: therefore hee desired that B that borrowed money might bee restored: The Senate liked well of his speach, and it was decreed that the said monie should bee paied at three payments, the first in­continent, the other within two yeeres, & the last within two yeeres after that: When it came to the third payment, there was no money in the treasury to pay it, because of the great affaires, that the commonwealth had in their warres: Vpon this neces­sitie, the Senate resolved, that whatsoever came of it, they must acquite their publike Faith, and therefore they gave to particular persons the lands & possessions belong­ing to the commonwealth, in payment, for every mans debs, retaining onely upon every acre three halfe pens rent, to shew, that that land had beene the common­wealthes, with this covenant, that such detbters should have their payment in mo­ney, C as soone as the common wealth had silver, if they had rather have money than land.

This Romane vertue, straightly to observe Faith, was not onely resplendishant in the bodie of the commonwealth, but also amongst particular persons, which ne­ver Titus Livius lib. 10. Dec. 3 had regard to any thing in the world so much, as in the keeping of their Faith. When Scipio was in Affrica, warring upon the Carthaginians, hee accorded a truce with them, if they would for that purpose send ambassadours to Rome, which they did: Whilst the said embassadors made their voiage to Rome, Asdruball a Car­thaginian captaine, breaking the truce, distressed and tooke 230 Romane ships, upon the sea: Whereof Scipio beeing advertised, sent to Carthage embassadors, to D shew the Senate that breach of the peace, so unfit for people that demanded peace: But these Romane embassadors were so evill intertained at Carthage, that the com­mon people had like to have stoned them, so that they were forced to go back againe. Not long after, the embassadors which the Carthaginians had sent to Rome, re­turned, and passed through the campe of Scipio: What did Scipio, he sent for them, and shewed them how their people had violated the publike Faith, by breaking the truce, and offending the right of nations, by the violent repulsing of his embassadors which hee sent, Yet, said he, I will doe nothing against the custome of the Romanes, in the holy observation of the publike Faith, neither any thing uncomely to my selfe: and after this speach, hee sent them away, not doing to them any harme. Heereby E men may know, that at that time, the scoffe and jest so much used of the Canonists, was not in use: Frangenti fidem, fides frangatur eidem: Faith must bee broken to him that breaketh Faith. Caesar also had this propertie, that hee would never imitate the treacherie and disloyaltie of his enemies, nor breake his Faith unto them, although they broke theirs: ‘And indeede (as that wise captaine Quintus Cincinnatus said) naturall reason, sheweth us, that wee must not sinne, for others example, nor breake [Page 260] a law, because others have alreadie broken it, nor commit that fault which we repre­hend F and condemne in others.’

These ancient Romanes were so scrupulous and exact observersiof their Faith, Titus Livius lib. 8. Dec. 2. that not onely they esteemed, that a man did violate it, when hee did any thing a­gainst it, but also whensoever hee suffered any thing to bee done by others, which see­med to bee to the detriment of that Faith. As when Anniball besieged and ruined the towne of Saguntum in Spaine, which was an allie of the Romanes; because they could not give succours to the Saguntines, before the taking of the towne, they thinking that heerein their Faith was something engaged, never ceased till they had rebuilded and repeopled it: And therefore warred they in Spaine, by the space of foureteene yeeres, at unspeakeable charge, and vanquished the Turditans, which brought in Anniball against the Saguntines, & made them tributaries to the Sagun­tines, G & drive the Carthaginians wholy out of Spaine, and redeemed all the Sagun­tine slaves, which Anniball had sold, after the taking of the towne; and recalled from all parts, such as were escaped, to repeople the towne: So well affectionated were these old Romanes, to leave nothing behinde, whereby they might make knowne, That a publike Faith, was the thing of the world, which they had in most singular recommendation.

Iugurtha king of Numidia in Affrica, slew wickedly his two brethren, the natu­rall Salust. de bel­lo Iugurth. and legitimate children of good king Micipsa, who left his kingdome, as well to the said children, as to the said Iugurtha, his adoptive sonne, borne of his brother: The Romanes which greatlie loved that good king Micipsa, were much greeved, H that this adoptive, had dealt so wickedly with them, unto whom the kingdome bet­ter belonged than to him (yet hee had both spoiled, and withall bereaved them of their lives:) Notwithstanding, hee desiring to goe to Rome, they gave him a safe conduct to goe and returne, because hee made the Senate beleeve that hee would justifie himselfe: When hee came at Rome, hee sought (for his justification) to ob­taine friends by great presents; but hee could no way cause his fact to bee appro­ved; yet hee returned into his kingdome in all assurance: for although hee merited well, by reason and justice to have beene staied, seeing the execrable act which hee had committed, and that it appertained to the Romanes, to doe justice thereof, be­cause they had the protection of the children of Micipsa, yet notwithstanding saith I Salust, the publike Faith got the victorie.

After that the emperour Nerva, was chosen emperour, hee entred into the Se­nate, Dion. in Nerva. when it was assembled, and after hee made them understand how kindlie and temperatelie, hee meant to behave himselfe in the government of the empire, hee added for a conclusion an oath and promise, That never by his ordinance and com­mand, hee would put to death any Senator: A thing which greatlie pleased all the companie, and especiallie because that cruell emperour Domitian his predecessor, whom hee succeeded, had caused a great number to die, yea for frivolous and tri­fling causes: What followed? It happened that certaine Senators conspired against K that good emperour, and that the conspiration was discovered: but that good prince seeing that the conspirators were Senators, and that hee had given to them all, his Faith and oath, that hee would cause none of them to dye, loved better to ob­serve his Faith and oath, than to punish with death those Senators, which had well merited it: What will our Machiavellists say heere, which most cruelly put to death & massacre against publik Faith, even such as no way have deserved any punishment.

[Page 261] But it is time to leave those ancient Romane examples (for wee should never Beliay. lib▪ 1. Of his me­mories. A have done to rehearse them all) now let us come to domesticall examples. In the yeere 1508, king Lewis the twelfth (who then held the dutchie of Millan) made a league at Cambray, with the emperour Maximilian, and pope Iulius the eleventh, to expulse at their common charge and expences, the Venetians, out of the firme land, as usurpers of that they held, upon the empire, upon the Church, and upon the dutchie of Millan: And it was accorded, that in the yeere following, at a convenient and good time, every one of the said three princes shoule appeare upon the place with his army, and every man should have that yeelded unto him, that was his owne, after they had conquered the said countries, which the Venetians held: The king according to this accord, came himselfe in person, with his army, and many great B princes and French lords, but the emperour and the pope failed: Yet the king fee­ling himselfe strong enough alone, gave battaile to the Venetians, and got the vic­torie, insomuch as their chiefetaines were taken, and 2000 slaine, and almost all the townes, which the Venetians had on firme land, yeelded to him: What then did this good king? although the other two held not their Faiths unto him, and that having then the dutchie of Millan, hee alone might easily have kept, all that he had conquered, yet notwithstanding hee voluntarilie yeelded to the emperour, Verone, Vicence, Padua, and otherplaces belonging to the empire, and to the Pope, Rimini, Faence, Cervia, Ravenna, and other church townes: Heereby this good king shew­ing in what great recommendation hee had the observation of his Faith, and to C maintaine whole and perfect his promise: For if with excuses, hee would have dealt deceitfully, to have broken his Faith (as Machiavell saith hee ought to have done) had hee not a faire pretext, to say that others had not held promise with him, might hee not have the said, that hee was nor bound to reconquer theirs at his owne char­ges, by the traict of their league? Might hee not well have beaten the Pope with his owne Cannons, alledging as before. Frangenti fidem, fides frangatur eidem: But he was a plaine man, without guile, and sincere, hee sought no evasions or refuges, but an upright observer of his Faith and promise, yet Machiavell reprehends him, because hee used not deceits and tromperyes, as the popes Alexander & Iulius did.

The memorie is yet fresh, of the great warres which the emperour Charles the D fifth, and Francis the first, king of France had together: as also how they objected Bellay. lib. 8. Of his me­mories. one to another, the observation of Faith in their publike escripts and writings, yet whatsoever imputations were laid by one to another, experience manifested the truth in the yeere 5539, when the emperour under the word of the king passed through France, to goe from Spaine into Flanders, where the people of Gant were risen up against him, for in that passage, the emperour shewed well that hee be­leeved, the king was a prince, who would keep his Faith unviolated, when he trusted his owne person under it, notwithstanding all the warres, enmities, hostilities, and other differences which had so often happened betwixt them two, and were not yet extinguished: And certaine it is, that if the emperour (who was a wise prince) had had the least doubt in the world of the kings Faith and loyaltie, hee would never E have put himselfe in his hands, and especially for so small an occasion, as in hast to goe build a citadell, in the towne of Gant; insomuch as his fact, contradicteth his mouth and word: For before hee had many times given an intimation to the king, not to hold and observe sincerely his Faith, but as by his own fact, he shewed that he beleeved the contrary of that hee had said, so found hee by experience that the king was [...] [Page 264] the part hee plaied with the king of Armenia, succeeded not alike unto him; which F king he sent for, to come unto him, being then nigh his country, making him to un­derstand, that hee would agree him, with his children, with which then the king had some dissention: For as soone as hee came to him, hee caused him to be taken pri­soner, and to bee bound, and to bee cast into a straight prison, as hee had done with Augarus: But the Armenians having discovered this perfidie and disloyaltie, rose up in armes, and would not submit themselves under the obedience of that perfidious Caracalla. Hee also played another part of treacherie, under the pretext and shew of marriage, with the king of the Parthians, Artabanus: For hee writ letters unto him, whereby hee signified unto him, that the empire of the Romanes, and that of the Parthians, were the two greatest empires of the world; and that hee beeing the G sonne of a Romane emperour, could not find a partie more sociable unto him for a wife, than the daughter of Artabanus, king of the Parthians: he therefore praied him, to give her to him in marriage, to the end to allie and joyne together the grea­test empires of the earth, as thereby also to impose an end to their warres: This king at the first denyed him his daughter, saying, that such a marriage was very un­fit, because of the diversitie of their tongues, manners, and habits; as also for that the Romanes never heeretofore allied or married with the Parthians: But upon this refuse, Caracalla insisted and pressed him more strongly than before, and sent to Artabanus great gifts, so that in the end hee gave to him his daughter: Where­upon Caracalla assuring himselfe, that hee should finde noe hostilitie in the Parthi­an H countrie, entred bouldly farre into the countrie with his armie, making men un­derstand, wheresoever hee passed, that hee went but for to see and make love to the kings daughter: On the other side, Artabanus prepared himselfe and his retinue, in as good order as was possible, without any armie, to goe meet his new sonne in law: What did this perfidious Caracalla? As soone as the two parties were joyned, and that king Artabanus came nigh him to salu [...]e and embrace him, he commanded his souldiers earnestly to charge upon the Parthians: Then straight the Romanes embraced and entertained the unarmed Parthians, with great blowes of swords and other armes, as enemies, and as if there had been an assigned battaile, in so much as there was a great slaughter made of the Parthians; but the king Artabanus, with the I help of a good horse escaped with great difficultie and danger: So that this simuled and disguised marriage, although pleasant to Caracalla and his friends, yet were they sorrowfull to many poore Parthians. Artabanus beeing saved, determined well to revenge himselfe of that villanie and trecherie: but Macrinus releeved him of that paine, who within a little time after, slew that monster Caracalla, who was already des­cryed through all the world because of his perfidie.

Besides, that perfidie and violation of Faith, is the cause, that none wil beleeve nor Perfidie is the cause of the ruine of the per­fidous. trust them which once have used it, yet proceeds there another upon it: which is, That breach of Faith is ordinarily cause of the totall destruction & ruine of the per­fidious and disloyall person. The example above alleadged of Anniball, may well K serve to prove it: for his trecherie was first a cause that none would trust him: second­ly, it was the cause that another perfidious person seeing him without friends or meanes, enterprised to play another part of perfidie, which forced him to poyson himselfe. We have also in another place before, recited the example of Virius, and other Capuans, to the number of seven and twentie, which desperately slew them­selves, because they had broken their Faith with the Romanes: But amongst other [Page 265] examples, that of king Syphax of Numidia is most illustrious and memorable: This A king promised Scipio, that he would aid and give him succours against the Carthagi­nians. The Carthaginians knowing this, found meanes to lay a bait for this king by Titus Livius lib. 9. & 10. Dec. 3. a faire Carthaginian damosell, called Sophonisba, one of a great house, who by her enticements so drew him into her nets, that she caused him to breake his Faith with Scipio, and made an alliance and confederation with the Carthaginians (by the mar­riage of Sophonisba) whereby they accorded, that they would have alike friends and enemies. Scipio beeing hereof advertised, was much both astonished and greeved, yet hee thought it good resolution not to attend, whilest the two powers of king Sy­phax and of the Carthaginians were joined together: Hee then so hasted, that hee placed his armie before king Syphax, who was going with thirtie thousand for the B helpe of the Carthaginians, and overcame all those succours: insomuch, as Syphax himselfe was taken prisoner, his horse having been slaine under him, & was brought alive to Scipio; who demaunded of him wherefore he had broken his Faith with the Romancs, which he had so solemnely sworne betwixt his hands: This poore captive king confessed, that an enraged follie had drawne him unto it by the meanes of the Carthaginians, which gave him that pestilent furie, Sophonisba, who by her flatteries and enticements had bereaved him of his understanding. After, this miserable king was in a triumph by Scipio led to Rome, & died miserably, & his kingdome brought under the obedience of the Romanes, which gave a good part of it to Massinissa, another king of Numidia, who had ever been loyall and faithfull unto them in the C observation of their Faith: So that Syphax lost himself and his kingdome by his per­fidie and breach of Faith, and Massinissa acquired great reputation and honour, and greatly amplified and enlarged his kingdome, for rightly observing his Faith and loyaltie.

Charles the simple, king of Fraunce, in his time made strong warre upon Robert, Annal. up­on the year 916. duke of Aquitaine, and vanquished him in a battaile nigh Soissons, where duke Ro­bert was slaine. Heber, countie de Vermandois, brother in law of that Robert, was so greeved and displeased at that overthrow, that he enterprised a part of perfidie and villanie, to catch the king his soveraigne lord: therefore with a countenance of ami­tie, he invited the king to a great feast in the town of Perone, whither the king came D with many other great princes and lords: but the said countie caused them all to be taken prisoners, and shut them within the castle of Perone: Afterward hee enlarged all the said princes and lords, upon condition of their promises, never to bear armes against him, but still retained the king prisoner in the said castle, where he died with­in two yeares after. Lewis (the third of that name) his sonne, succeeded him in the crowne; who at his first entry revenged not the death of his father upon countie He­ber, fearing some insurrection in his kingdome, because of his great kindred and friends: yet at the last he also made a great and solemne feast, unto which he entrea­ted the great lords and barons of his kingdome, and even countie Heber, and his friends and kinsfolkes: As they were all assembled at that feast, behold there arrived E out of England a currier (a thing fained by king Lewis) who (booted and spurred) fell upon his knees before the king, and presented letters unto him on the king of Englands part: The king tooke those letters, and caused them to be read low by his Chancellor, the rather to deceive: As soone as he had read them, the king began to smile and say on high to the companie: Truly men say true, that the English are not wise: My cousin of England sends me word, that in his countrey a rusticall & clow­nish [Page 266] man had summoned his lord (whose subject hee is) to a dinner at his house; and F as soone as he came there, he tooke and detained him prisoner, and after strangled him, and villanously caused him to die: Therfore he sends me word, to have the opi­on of the princes, barons, and lords of Fraunce, to know what justice should bee done upon that subject: I must make him an answere, and therefore my masters I pray you tell me your advices. What thinke you (said he to the countie de Blois the most auncient) to this matter my good cousin? The countie de Blois answered, that his opinion was, That the said rusticall fellow should die ignominiously, and that ac­cording to his desert. All the other princes and lords were of the same opinion, yea, even Heber, countie de Vermandois. Then tooke the king the word, and said: ‘Coun­tie de Vermandois, I judge thee and condemne thee to death by thine owne word: G for thou knowest, that in the shew of friendship, and under the shaddow of a feast in thy house, thou diddest invite my dead father, and being come, thou retainedst him and brought him most villanously to his death: therefore by thine owne confession thou doest merit a most ignominious death.’ Straight after, the king commaunded that he should be hanged and strangled, which was done: So this perfidious and dis­loyall Heber received the reward of his perfidie and breach of Faith, as hee himselfe judged to have merited.

Edward king of England, the second of that name, was much governed by the Frois. lib. 1. cap. 5. 13, 14. house of the Spensers, which took upon them the handling of all the affaires of the kingdome, and despised farre greater lords than themselves: The said king having H lost a battaile at Esturmelin against the Scots, all England imputed the evill lucke of that losse unto the evill government of the Spensers. They beleeving that the great lords of England, which envied their credit, had caused this brute to bee sowne, re­solved to take vengeance thereof, by a most perfidious & disloiall meanes: For they persuaded the king to convocate a generall assemblie of States, to advise and pro­vide (as they gave to understand) for the affaires of the kingdome: The princes and lords of the kingdome not doubting any thing, assembled at the kings commaund: But incontinent as they were assembled, king Edward (whome the Spensers had per­suaded, that his princes and lords meant to get his kingdome from him) comman­ded them to be taken, & arrested prisoners: which was done; and without any know­ledge I of cause, he cut off the heads from two and twentie of the greatest lords and princes of the kingdome: and amongst them there was beheaded Thomas duke of Lancaster, the kings uncle, who was a good and a sage prince, and who after was cannonized and saincted. This perfidie joyned with crueltie (for commonly the one goeth with the other) was the cause that the said king was deprived by all the States of England, of his royaltie, as unworthie to carrie the crowne, and was confined to prison, where he finished his daies: And the Spensers, authors of such disloialtie, were executed and rigorously punished, according to their merits: For after they had ben drawne on hurdles through the streets all over the citie of Herford; their privie parts were first cut away and cast into the fire; then were their hearts taken out of their bel­lies, K and also cast into the fire; after their heads were cut off and carried to London; and the bodies of every of them were quartered, and every quarter caried into other severall towns, to be set on the tops of their great gates, in detestation of their great perfidie and disloyaltie, which they used towards the said lords.

It was also a great perfidie in Charles the last duke of Bourgoigne, in that hee De Comines, lib. 1. cap. 78. and Annal. 1475. gave safe conduct to the contie of S. Pol constable of France, to come to him with [Page 267] good assurance, and then tooke him prisoner, and delivered him to king Lewis the A seventh, who making his processe at Paris, his head was cut off in the place de Greve. True it is, that the said countie had committed great faults, as well against the king, as against the duke: hee had also alwaies studied to nourish warre betwixt the said two princes; yet notwithstanding it was a very dishonorable and infamous thing, for the duke to take him prisoner, after hee had given him his faith and assurance, by the safe conduct which hee graunted him: For if hee had not beene, hee had (according to his determination) with his silver, fled into Almaigne, & from thence in time he might have made his peace, and againe have come into the kings favour: But he was deceived as before: and the said perfidie was so much the more infamous and dishonest, because it was perpetrated by this duke of Bourgoigne, for the cove­tousnesse B to gaine the townes of S. Quinten, Han and Bohain, which belonged to the said countie, which the king gave to the said duke, to the end, hee would deliver and betray him. But behold the just judgement of God, who permitted, that this duke of Bourgoigne was in the end beaten with the same rods wherewith hee had beaten the countie of S. Pol: for being twice overthrowne at Granson and Morat, by the Suissers, the siege of Nus, succeeding evill unto him, and also, having lost the dutchie of Lorraine (which before he had unjustly occupied upon the duke of Lorraine, who conquered it) all these traverses and troubles engendred such greefe, sad­nesse, and confusion in his spirit, and great indisposition in his person, that hee was never after whole, either in bodie or mind: His wits thus comming into decay, there C came into his braine a distrust of his owne subjects, and therefore thought good to serve himselfe with strangers, and to chuse a loyall and faithfull nation, he addressed himselfe to a countie de Campobache, an Italian, and gave him charge to bring with him many Italians to his service, as hee did. This was the last act of the Tragedie of his life: For this countie de Campobache ceased not till he had betrayed him unto the duke of Lorraine before Nancy, which the said duke of Bourgoigne held besieged, and there was slaine in an assault, which the duke of Lorraine gave him, to constrain him to raise the siege. And so in like sort, as by perfidie and violating of his faith, he had caused the constable of S. Pol, to leese both life and goods: so by the treason and perfidie of Campobache, hee both lost his life and his house was ruinated and D [...]ent in pieces, which was the greatest house in Christendome, next unto that of Fraunce.

He should never have done, that would set downe all the calamities & mischiefes proceeding of perfidie and breach of publicke Faith. It caused the ruine of Car­thage the great in Affrica, which for a long time was one of the greatest and most flourishing commonweales that ever was in the world. It was the onely ruine of Co­rinth, of Thebes, of Calchis, which were three of the greatest, fairest, and richest ci­ties of Greece. It was the cause of Ierusalems destruction and of all the countrey of Iudea: yea, breefely, there never happened any great subversion and desolation in the world, were it of citties, commonweales, kingdomes, empires, great captaines, great monarchs, or of strong and flourishing nations, but it came upon perfidie and E the breach of Faith. True it is, that it draweth at the taile with her crueltie, avarice, and other like companions: but yet perfidie is the mistresse and governesse of all: She breaketh peace; she renueth civile and strange warres; she troubleth people & nations which are quiet; she destroyeth and impoverisheth them; she overthroweth right and equitie; she prophaneth and defileth holy and sacred things; she banisheth [Page 268] and chaseth away all pietie, justice, and the feare of God; she bringeth in Atheisme F and contempt of all religion; she defaceth all amitie and naturall affection towards parents, our countrey, and nation; she confoundeth all politicke order; shee abro­gateth good lawes and customes: Finally, what mischeefes hath there ever beene in the world, which that hideous monster (Perfidie) hath not engendred: Assuredly, it is an Alecto, an infernall furie, excited and called lately from hell, to the vexation and Perfidie an infernal fu­rie. Subtill pal­liations are not profita­ble. Titus Livius lib. 1. Dec. 3. utter overthrow of this poore world.

And as for that which Machiavell sayth, That a man may finde reasons and co­vertures to cloake and colour the breach of Faith, this hath no place amongst good men which respect their honour, which also repute palliations but trumperies and frauds, and doe make mens perfidies but the worse and more damnable. The Car­thaginians G after the first Punick warre, made a treatie of peace with Caius Luctatius, lieutenant generall of the Romane armie, upon which treatie, Luctatius made this reservation; Vnder the good pleasure of the Senate and Romane people: This treatie pleased not the Romanes; and therfore as soone as they were advertised therof, they certified the Carthaginians, that they would not ratifie it. Not long after, Asdru­ball, lieutenant generall of the Carthaginian armie, made another treatie with the Romanes, wherin they comprehended the Saguntines: This treatie a long time was observed on both sides, yet the Carthaginians, never expresly, only secretly, appro­ved and ratified it: At the end of which time, the Carthaginians sent Anniball to besiege Saguntum, which they tooke and ruinated. The Romans after this, sent em­bassadors H to Carthage, to know wherefore the Carthaginians had done contrary to the treatie of peace made with Asdruball, wherein expressely the Saguntines were comprehended. The Carthaginians in their Senate would have cloaked and colou­red this fact (according to Machiavels counsell) with certaine fond subtilties, saying, that they never ratified the treatie made by Asdruball, and that it was as well lawfull for them to disavow that which Asdruball had done therein, as the Romans had ab­rogated the truce of Luctatius. This colour seemed to have some appearance in it, but being more narrowly entred into, nothing will be discovered, but deceit and fal­lacie: For there must a greater estimation be made of a ratification by Deed, than by Word, as the assurance of Deeds is far greater than that of Words: so that the I Carthaginians, which by the space of many yeares had approoved effectually the treatie of Asdruball, could by no meanes afterward reprove it, as also because in that truce there was no reservation contained, as there was in the treatie of Luctatius: The Romane embassadours then espying the palliation and quarrelling deceit of the Carthaginians, vouchsased not otherwise to replie, but to present to their choise, ei­ther peace or warre: The Carthaginians left that choise to the Romans, which chu­sed warre; by which the Carthaginians lost themselves and their countrey: And this came of their deceitfulnesse and breach of Faith.

Not unworthie the rehearsall, are the subtile distinctions of king Antiochus his Titus Livius lib. 4. Dec. 4. embassadour unto Titus Quintius, lieutenant generall of the Romane armie, then K resident in Greece, to defend the Greeke townes in their liberties against that bar­barous king. This king perceiving his affaires, could not well succeed against the powers of the Romans, which by the Grecians themselves were drawn into Greece, purposed to seeke peace without any further hazard: Quintius made Menippus and Hegesianax, the kings embassadors, to understand, that the only meane of peace was, that their king should avoid Europe, and leave Greece at libertie: Hereunto Menip­pus [Page 269] replied by goodly distinctions well trussed together, whereby hee shewed, that A there are three kinds of confederations and treaties of peace: one, with such as are vanquished by warre, unto whom the vanquishers may give law: the second kind, when two enemies, equall in forces, doe make peace without battaile; in which kind, as they are like in force, so ought the compacts and conditions of peace to be alike and egall: and the third is, when they which never were enemies before, are reduced to amitie and confederation, in which kind, neither of them ought to give law to the other: adding to this distinction, that the king their master was of this third kind, and that therefore they were abashed, that Quintius would give him a law, saying, That he must needs avoid Europe. Quintius, who was nothing expert in making di­stinctions, unlesse it were with the sword, although otherwise of good naturall sence: B ‘Well (said he) you have made me a distinction, and I will make you another: There are two kinds of warres; the one may be made in Asia, the other may be made in Eu­rope: Touching the last kind, the Romans have just cause to enterprise wars against your master for the guard of the townes of Greece, least they should fall into the hands of Antiochus, according as they have preserved them from the hands of Phi­lip king of Macedonie: and as for the first kind, the Romanes are content not to deale at all: and if king Antiochus your master will make warre in Asia, let him doe it, we will not hinder him.’ The said embassadors (which accounted to have brought much to passe by their subtill distinction) were much astonished, when they heard this contradistinction of Quintius: for they could not replie one word: And in the C end ther was no remedie but Antiochus must passe (by the distinction of Quintius) to avoid Europe. Hereby is seene, that such subtilties and palliations in treaties of peace and observation of Faith, are but ridiculous things: For the affaires of the world ought to be governed by a common sence and solid judgement, and not by subtilties of distinctions, which should bee sent unto Sophisters and Logicians, to maintaine their arguments in schooles.

The Grecians have alwaies been great masters in subtilties (as their writings Thusi. lib. 1 de bello Pe [...]o. shew) yea, too much: for often it hath happened, that determining to governe the affaires of their commonweales, rather by subtill reasons, than by arguments foun­ded upon good judgement, they have overthrowne themselves into utter ruines and D confusions. Hereof there is a very memorable example in the Peloponesiake warre described by Thucydides, which endured eight and twentie yeares, and well nigh ru­inated all Greece from top to toe, as wee say: for it was founded upon a subtiltie of small importance. This was the matter: Two of the greatest commonweales of all Greece were the commonweales of the Athenians & of the Lacedaemonians, for all the rest were small in comparison of them, and were in a conjunction by a associa­tion either with the one or the other, except some few, as that of the Corcyrians, which neither associated with the Athenians nor with the Lacedaemonians. These two great commonweales had a treatie of confederacie together, wherein amongst other articles there was one which said, That if any of the cities of Greece, which E were not then leagued with either the one or the other of the commonweales, would associate themselves either to one or the other, they lawfully might. But so it happe­ned, that the Corcyrians had warre against the Corinthians, which were associated with the Lacedaemonians: insomuch, as the Corcyrians feeling themselves weake, practised to enter into league and societie with the Athenians, shewing them, that they might receive them into their societie: The Corinthians on the contrary de­monstrated [Page 270] to the Athenians, That if they received the Corcyrians into their socie­tie, F to aid them in this warre against them, it were to doe against the said article, the which was to bee understood in the wholesomest and best sence, and not to the de­triment and ruine of the confederates: and that such as would so interprete it, That it were lawfull for the Athenians to receive the Corcyrians into their societie, for them to warre upon the Lacedaemonians, Corinthians, and other confederates, comprehended in the said treatie, should be an interpretation to an evill sence, too easily making an overture to breake the said treatie of peace, after the appetite of a third, which was no confederate: And that therefore the said article must of neces­sitie bee understood, in such manner, as the reception of new associates might bee without the domage and prejudice of such as were comprehended in that confede­ration. The Corcyrians replied, That although in the said article be not expressed, G that it should be lawfull to receive associates, to make warre against confederates or others: yet must it be so understood, especially, when new associates make warre for a good right and just quarrell, as ours is (said they) against the Corinthians: and that the treatie could not be violated, neither is the interpretation contrary to equitie, whensoever men will maintaine right and reason. The Athenians made no account of the interpretation of the said treatie which the Corinthians set before them, al­though it was conformable and agreeing to the sence and equitie of that confedera­tion, but rather held it better to sticke unto the Corcyrians: On the other side, the Lacedaemonians banded themselves for the Corinthians their associates, as reason H required, and by that meanes those two great commonweales were brought to the skirmish of warre one against another, by meanes of the Corcyrians and Corinthi­ans, which set them together by the eares. After the Athenians and Lacedaemonians entred warres together, they drew after them all the rest of Greece, or the most part into the same skirmish, some of the one part, some of the other: but this Pelopon­nesiack warre was great, cruell, long, and such as had almost utterly overthrowne the estate of Greece upside downe: and all this came upon the captious interpretation (contrarie to all equitie and reason) which the Corcyrians made of the foresaid arti­cle of the treatie of confederation.

In like manner was the subtill disputation of such as caused Pompeius, that famous I Plutarch. in Pomp. captaine, to die. After Pompeius had lost the battaile of Pharsalia against Caesar, he embarked on the sea with his wife & certain of his friends, hoovering about Aegypt, hoping there to be welcome, and entertained by the young king Ptolomaeus, in con­sideration of the pleasures which hee had sometimes done to his father. At his ap­proching the land of Aegypt, he sent a messenger in a boat to that young king, who was in the towne of Pelusium, to know if he would receive him in assurance: But in­deed the kings affaires were then managed by three base persons, which understood nothing lesse, than well to governe affaires of State, whereof the first was a meane chamberlaine of his; and the other two, Theodotus the Rhetorician his schoolema­ster, and Achillas his domesticall servant: These three venerable persons fel to coun­sell, K to deliberate what answere the king their master should make to Pompeius: At the beginning they differed in opinion, one saying, that it were good to receive him, and the other, not: But in the end al three accorded in the worst opinion they could have taken, which was, to receive Pompey, and to slay him: Which opinion, this goodly Rhetorician Theodotus persuaded to the other two by his subtile reasons. If we receive Pompeius (saith he) certaine it is, wee shall have Caesar for an enemie, and [Page 271] Pompeius for a master: If we receive him not, they will be both our enemies; Pompey A for rejecting him, and Caesar, because we have not stayed him: But if we receive him, and put him to death, Caesar will thanke us, and Pompeius cannot revenge himselfe upon us, nor endammage us: for a dead man is no warrior. Vpon these goodly rea­sons of that subtile rhetorician, the conclusion was taken by these three bad peo­ple, to put to death this great person Pompeius, who had had so many triumphs and victories in his life, & who had seene to wait on him sometimes five or six great kings at once, to entreat him as an arbitror of their contentions and differencies. If these bad Counsellors had considered the greatnesse of Pompeius, who had so many pa­rents and friends, vertuous and great lords, as also the magnanimitie of Caesar, which would vanquish by true force, and not by perfidies and treasons, they would never B have staied upon the cold and foolish subtilties of this gentle Rhetorician, and they would not have concluded the death of so great a man: But yet they concluded it, and executed their conclusion, causing Pompey to die, as soone as he had taken port in Aegypt: But it was not long ere they received the reward of their perfidie, foun­ded upon that subtiltie: for Caesar soone after arrived in Aegypt, unto whom Pothi­nus and Achillas presented the head of Pompeius, thinking greatly to pleasure him: Caesar turned his face backward, because he would not see him, and begun to weepe, and withall commanded to put Pothinus and Achillas to death, which had profe­red him that present, which was presently done: And that subtile reason of Theodo­tus, who persuaded them, that Caesar would thanke them for their murder, was not found C true. Theodotus seeing this execution, and finding himselfe very culpable, fled, and yet lived certaine yeares, miserably wandring and begging here and there, fea­ring (being known) to be massacred of the world, which every where had him in exe­cration: But in the end, after the death of Caesar, Brutus by chaunce light upon him, and caused him to die miserably, after he had made him endure infinit torments. Be­hold the end of those three Counsellors of that young king Ptolomaeus, who also by their evill conduction made but a poore end: for he was slaine in a battell nigh Nile, and none could ever find his bodie. Would to God such as resemble at this day these three Counsellors, might receive semblable guerdon and reward as they did, to learne them to conclude the committing of massacres and the use of perfidies D and treasons, which will not faile them in the end: for God is just.

But the skoffe which Theodotus alledged in the fore-mentioned counsell, That a dead man makes no warre, is at this day ordinarily in the mouthes of our Italianized courtiers, & thereupon they ground their counsels, to sley and massacre all such as they hate: We must (say they) sley this and that man, it is good to dispatch them, for a dead man makes no warre: But if a man reply upon them, that a dead man yet may because of warre, although he can make no warre: what would they answere? Dare they denie so apparent a thing, as we see with our eyes, and whereof hystories fur­nish us with infinit examples. Lewis duke of Orleance, king Charles the sixt his bro­ther, after the duke Iohn of Bourgoigne had caused him to be slaine, made no warre E indeed, but yet was the cause of a civile warre in Fraunce, which endured more than sixtie yeares. Pompeius after he was slaine, made no more warre: but his death was the cause of a great and long civile warre, in the Romane empire. The violating and Iudges, 19, 20. death of a Levites wife, was it not the cause of a warre, wherein there died more than sixtie thousand men. They which were slaine at Vassi, Anno 1562, drew not they on a civile warre, which endured too long? They also which were slaine in Anno 1572, in [Page 272] the moneth of August by the great townes of Fraunce, but especially Paris; were not F they cause of great warres? It is therefore a foule and an inconsiderate saying, to al­ledge, that a dead man makes no warre, thereupon to found their massacres and slaughters, without considering the consequences thereof. Hereupon is very me­morable, the speech that Geta the yong prince made to the emperour Severus his Spar. in Geta father. Severus having vanquished Albinus and Niger his competitors to the em­pire, begun to make a great slaughter of the greatest lords and gentlemen of Rome, which had taken part with Albinus or Niger, because they were of a more noble house than Severus: As then, day by day he was committing his slaughter, he one day said unto Bassianus & Geta his children (as men spoke of that fact) I shall by this meanes ease you of all your enemies: Hereupon Geta his sonne demanded of him: My lord and father, them which you meane to put to death, are they a great number? Yea G (answered Severus) and told him the number: All they (replied he) have they neither parents, allies, nor friends? Yea, they have many (said Severus:) You then (said Geta) will leave us more enemies than you take from us. This wise speech of this young prince, touched so well the heart of Severus (although he was cruell) that hee would needs cease from his slaughter, but that Plautianus and other courtiers, which at­tended the enriching of themselves by confiscations, incited him to continue. Let murderers then hold themselves assured, that for one they have slaine, they stirre up tenne enemies: And yet is not this all: for all the rest of their life they have soules and consciences tormented with the remembrance of such as they have most wic­kedly H murdered: and the shadowes and remembrances of them shall alwayes bee before their eyes, as a feare and terror unto them. O how the shadow of that great Admirall shall strangely torment these great enterprisers of massacres! it will never leave them at rest, but shall bee a burning flame, which shall agast and fearefully ac­companie them even to their sepulchres. Let them then hearken unto the menace and threatening he makes in his tombe against them:

Although the soule from bodie mine cold death hath ravished,
Virgil Aene. lib. 4.
Yet absent I will follow thee, yea, with a flame full blacke
My shaddow alwaies shall appeare about thee as one dead,
Which shall revenge on thee my blood, thou, who no ill doest lacke. I

I thought good by the way to touch, what warre the dead makes or what cause of war they are, to refute that saying of the Machiavellians, That a dead man makes no warre. Let us now come where we left, Of subtilties, which wee say ought not to bee practised in the government of the affaires of State, and that thereby none may cover any perfidie.

When Anniball had gotten the battaile of Cannas, against the Romanes, hee toke a great number of prisoners, and because he more loved money, for their ran­some, than to hold them, hee sent a certaine number of them to Rome, to practise and worke their redemption, but hee made them sweare and promise, that they K would returne to him, and so did let them goe upon their Faith: But one advised himselfe of a subtile device when hee came at Rome, to returne no more, yet none should say hee broke his Faith: For having passed a good piece of his way towards Rome, hee suddenly returned backe againe to Anniball, fayning hee had forgotten something; after againe followed his companions, and so they all came to Rome: [Page 273] But their affaires comming to bee debated in the Senate, none would yeeld to re­deeme A the prisoners; insomuch as they all which came to Rome for that purpose, returned very sad to Anniballs campe, except hee which returned by the way, who with these came not to the campe, but remained in his house, thinking hee was well discharged of his Faith and othe: But when the Senate heard tell of the fallacious and deceitfull returne of the said souldier, so unworthy and unseemely for a Romane, they commanded him to bee drawne out of his house, and by force to bee led unto Anniball. Heereby you may see then, that no wise people of good judgement (such as were the ancient Romanes) can approve such subtile palliations and covertures of an infraction and breach of Faith, such as Machiavell persuadeth to a prince.

A like deceit was in the king of France, Phillip the sixt of that name: for having Froisart, lib. 1. cap. 10. B made an oth (as almost all his ancestors, kings of France had done) never to run over or attempt to besiege, or take any thing belonging to the empire; yet desiring the castle of Tin; the Bishops nigh to Cambray (which troubled him much) caused his sonne the duke of Normandie, as the chiefe generall of the armie, to besiege it, and himselfe went thither also, as a simple souldier, without any command at all: By which subtiltie the king Phillip could not save his oth; for hee that doth any thing by a mediator, is as much as if hee had done it himselfe, neither did the deceit suc­ceede well unto him: for both the duke of Normandie was constrained to raise his siege, from before the castle, and not long after the king lost the battaile at Cressy.

The emperour Valentinian, in his time was cruell in his actions and dealings, Amm. Ma­rel. lib. 28. C and had many officers like himselfe: Amongst other such, there was a criminall judge called Maximus, who as hee examined certaine criminall persons, promised them if they would confesse the truth▪ they should suffer no punishment, either of sword or fire: These poore accused persons (as often men doe) confessed things they had never perpretated, trusting upon his Faith and promise: But this wicked judge cau­sed them to bee beaten downe and slaine with leaden hammers, thinking by this ca­villation to save his oth: God would, that for a recompence hee should after be han­ged and strangled, under the emperour Gratianus, a gentle and kind prince: For it of­ten happeneth, that such cruell judges, which have bestowed great paines to make their d [...]lligence allowed of the cruell princes, have beene after paid their wages and D received their due recompence, of some good prince succeeding.

Nabis was a tyrant, who without right or title got soveraigne possession of the commonwealth of the Lacedaemonians, and there committed many cruelties and Titus Livius lib. 5. Dec. 4. indignities: The Aetolians (a furious and cruell kinde of people) esteemed that it would bee a great glorie and honour unto them, if they could slay this tyrant any way, and that all Greece, especially the Lacedaemonians, would thank them: So they enterprised to joyne themselves unto him, under a pretext and shew of Faith and so­cie [...]e the better to overthrow him. Alexamenes was deputed captaine and conduc­tor, of the Aetolian forces, to effect that enterprise, who did so much, as hee entered into league and confederation with Nabis, who at that time greatly feared the Ro­manes: This league being past, Alexamenes persuaded Nabis, that both together E they must often exercise their souldiers, by bringing them into the fields to wrastle, leape, skirmish, and practise other millitarie exercises, to shun idlenesse, and to make them good souldiers: Nabis beleeved him, insomuch as one day beeing in the field together, Alexamenes came behinde him, and threw him cleane over his horse with a blow hee gave him, and then presently caused him to be slaine and massacred. [Page 274] This being done, Alexamenes & his people returning towards the towne of Sparta F from whence they departed, thinking to seize upon the castle, to guard themselves, from all assaults of the tirants frinds, but they could not obtaine it: For the Lacedae­monians so disdained & greeved at that most perfiidious & villanus part of the Aeto­lians against their king Nabis (although they desired no more than his death) that they furiously rushed upon the Aetolians, which were dispersed through the towne, (and looked not for their paines to be so recompensed) that they slew them almost all, and amongst them Alexamenes himselfe: such as escaped the sword were taken prisoners and sould.

For the last example of this matter, I will set downe that of Ioab, David nephew 2. Samuel. 2. 3. 20. 1 Kings. 2. and constable, unto whom hee did good and great services: Yet David comman­ded G Salomon his sonne, that hee should put to death Ioab his cosin germane (as hee did) because of his perfidie: for hee had slaine Abner and Amasa (two other great captaines) traiterously, under the coulour of amitie. Ioab seemed to have great cau­ses to justifie his fact: For Abner had slaine Asahel, Ioabs brother, and therefore Ioab could not but receive just sorrow and feeling thereof: Moreover Abner had followed the contrary part to David, standing for the house of Saul: Amasa was a rebell and a seditious person against David, and had followed Absalons part; so it was evident, if Ioab had had our Machivellists, judges of his fact, they would not onely have ad­judged him innocent, but for a remuneration they would have made him some great amendes, with the goods of Abner and Amasa: but the judgement of David, which H hee made at his death, against his sisters sonne, who had done him infinit good and great services, shewed well how execrable and detestable Ioabs perfidie was to him: And heereby princes have to learne, to imitate this holy and wise king, by whose mouth God teacheth them, that they ought to observe their Faith and promise, yea to their domage; a doctrine fully contrary to the doctrine of this filthie and wicked Machiavell.

To conclude, Perfidie is so detestable a thing, both to God and the world, that God never leaveth perfidious and Faith-breaking persons unpunished: Oftentimes hee waits not to punish them in the other world, but plagnes them in this, yea often strangely and rigorously, by exterminating (as it were) in a moment all their rase, I wives; and children, as the Poet Homer (although a Panim) hath wisely taught us, saying:

Though straight the God of heaven lay not his punishment divine,
Homer. Ili. 4
At all times on the perfidious for his great periurie:
Yet neither hee himselfe, nor child can skape his ire in fine,
No nor his wife, but all destroyed by hand of his shall bee. K

22. Maxime. A

‘Faith, Clemencie, and Liberalitie, are vertues very domageable to a prince, but it is good, that of them, hee have onely some similitude and likenesse. B’

THere is no necessitie (saith our Florentine) that a prince Cap. 18. Of the prince. should bee garnished with all these vertues, but it is requi­sit that hee have an appearance of them: For I dare well say this, that having and observing them in all places, they will fall out mervelous domageable unto him: And contrarie, the maske and semblance of them is very profitable: and indeede wee see, each day by experience, that a prince is often constrained to goe from his C Faith, and from all charitie, humanitie, and religion, to conserve and defend his owne; vvhich verely hee shall incontinent lose, if exactly hee will observe all points, which make men to bee esteemed ver­tuous.

MAchiavell sets heere downe three vertues, Faith, Clemencie, and Liberalitie, which hee reproveth in a prince as domagea­ble and pernitious, effectuallie to use them: But whosoever can recover the maskes and similitudes of them, as they are natu­rallie D portraied, hee shall doe well to adorne and decke him­selfe with them, as whores and courtizans doe, which apparell themselves like women of honour, to make men beleeve that they are honest and good women: But I will not stand heere upon invectives, to confute, or cause men to detest such a filthie doctrine: For what man is so brutall or ignorant, that seeth not with his eie, how Machiavell delights to mock & play, with the most excellent vertues amongst men? As for the Faith which is and ought to bee amongest men (for Machiavell speakes not of the Faith, which is towards God) wee have discoursed upon it, in the former Maxime: And as for Li­beralitie, wee shall speake upon it in another place: Heere wee will speake of Cle­mencie, E and examine Machiavells doctrine, whether this doctrine can bee domageable to a prince or no?

To shew that Clemencie cannot bee domageable, but profitable to him, unto Clemencie profitable & honoura­ble to such as are cle­ment. whom God imparteth that grace, to bee indued therewith, an argument drawne from the contrary concludes well and evidently for this purpose: For if crueltie (which is directly contrary to Clemencie) bee pernitious and domageable to him, [Page 276] that is infected therewith, as wee have above shewed: It followeth, that clemencie, F and gentlenesse is both profitable and honourable to him that is indued and ador­ned therewith: And indeede it is a vertue, both agreeable and amiable with everie man, which bringeth to whatsoever person it dwelleth in, favour, grace, amitie, ho­nour, and good will of every man to doe him pleasure: All which are affections that can never bee idle, nor without some operation of their naturall effects, as the fire cannot bee without his heating, nor light without shining: so that, a man debonaire and gentle (I speake of all men in generall, but especially of a prince) the chiefe meanes to obtaine the favour, grace, amity, and reverence of the people, he cannot avoide when he will, but feele great utilities, agreeable contentments, pleasures, be­nefits, great assurance farre from all feare, and most exceeding great repose and G tranquilitie in his soule and conscience: But in order to diduce the good effects & utilities, which proceede from clemencie: I doe advertise the reader, that I speake of that vertue in his most ample signification, according whereunto it comprehendeth, not onely mercie and kindnesse towards offenders, but also bountie, goodnesse of nature, mansuetude of manners, popularitie and facilitie to accommodate himselfe to the peoples humors, and (to all such as a man hath to command) also humanity, and officious affabilitie towards all men. For briefely, all these aforesaid vertues, are like the honnie and sweetnesse of a well complectioned and setled soule, which sweetnesse may well bee called in one word, Clemencie, although according to his divers effects and respects, men give it divers names. H

This naturall kindnesse and bounty of the soule then (which men call Clemencie) being in a prince, the first produceth this effect, that shee will soften and mitigate the punishments of offendors, yea sometimes will forgive and altogether acquit them, according as the circumstances of the fact, and of the persons doe require: For a prince ought well to consider, When, How, To whom, & Wherefore, he par­doneth a fault, because it is not clemency but crueltie (as the king S. Lewis said) when a prince may doe justice, and doth it not: But forsomuch as equitie is the soule of justice, which oftentimes is repugnant and contrarie to the rigour of lawes and or­dinances, therefore a prince must needes employ his clemencie, to bring equitie in use, by dispensing with the punishment of offendors, which should suffer by the ri­gor I of lawes: But if there bee no equitie nor vailable reason to persuade a prince to dispense with the law, then is hee bound to doe justice, otherwise hee merits to be re­puted, not clement, but cruell and culpable of the crime, which he would not vouch­safe to punish: And in this point very necessarie it is, that a prince bee wise and vi­gilant to guard himselfe, that hee be not surprised nor deceived, and that he use not crueltie in steade of clemencie, by the ordinarie opportunitie of such as sue for par­dons: And not to fal into this inconvenience, whensoever the fact is of evill example, and that the commonwealth hath interest therein, the prince ought not to use re­mission and grace, without knowledge of the cause, and without good counsell.

The emperour Marcus Antonine governed himselfe very wisely in his use K of clemencie, to such as committed crimes: for as to them which had not perpetra­ted Capit. & Dio. in Mar [...]o. Vulc. Galli­canus in A­vidio Cassio. great and erronious faults, and had not taken a custome therein, he mitigated and lenified such punishments, as were ordained by lawes, by some other lighter pu­nishment: So in weightie crimes of evill consequence, he was inexorable, & for them had no favour, much lesse pardon: And in regard of offences committed against himselfe particularly, hee was as prompt and voluntarie, to pardon as was possible, [Page 277] and so it appeared in the case of Avidius Cassius: For Cassius being in Esclavonia A with a Romane armie, hearing a false report, that this good emperour was dead; and beleeving this fame to be true, he enterprised to make himselfe emperour, and for such made himselfe to bee knowne and saluted by his armie: After, having certaine notice that he was in good health, hee was much abashed and withall troubled, that so rashly he had enterprised upon his masters estate: yet notwithstanding hee desi­sted not from holding & carrying himselfe as an emperour, fearing that some would sley him so soone as hee forsooke his forces, having so farre embarked and engaged himselfe therein: yet could he not shun that which he so much feared, for hee was slaine by certaine of his captaines, which thought thereby greatly to please Marcus Antonine, and carried to him his head: Antonine seeing the head of Cassius, was B exceeding greeved and sorrowfull thereat, and said to them which brought it, That they should not have slaine him, since hee had not so commaunded, for so had they taken from him the use of mercie: Hee rather desired they had brought him alive, that he might have reproched the benefites received at his hands, and with reason have shewed him how little cause he had to conspire against him, so also might hee have shewed himselfe a better friend unto Cassius, than Cassius had done to him. Yea but Sir (replied one of the captaines:) What if by sparing the life of Cassius, he had gotten the victorie of you? ‘We doe not feare that, answered the emperour: for wee have not so honoured the gods, nor lived in such sort, as Cassius could have vanqui­shed us. No good princes or very few were at any time vanquished or slaine, or de­spoiled C of their estate, but only such as well merited it, as Nero, Caligula, Otho, Vitel­lius, and other like, which were cruell and full of vices, and like Galba and Pertinax, which were exceedingly given to covetousnesse, than which vice, nothing becomes a prince worse: But Augustus, Traian, Adrian, our father Antonius Pius, and such like, as they modestly governed, so deceased they honourably and without violence. Cassius was a good and valiant captaine, whose fault wee desired to have pardoned, because it rather proceeded of temeritie than of evill will against us, beeing persua­ded when he made his enterprise, that we had ben dead: and although he could never have excused himselfe, but that he had greatly injured our children, which by right and reason ought to succeed us in our estate, yet would not wee have had him to die D for that: for if our children merited to succeed us in the empite, Cassius could not have overthrowne their estate: but if contrary, Cassius had better deserved than they to governe the comomwealth, and had been better beloved, it had also been reaso­nable and just hee had been emperour.’ By this answere of that good emperour, a man may see how facile and easie he was to pardon offences against him, which is a very covenable vertue in a prince: for a prince can hardly rigorously punish faults committed against himselfe, but he shall be taxed and blamed for rigour and cruel­tie, although the fault merit greevous punishment, as the same emperour witnesseth by his missive rescribed unto the Senate, which made too rigorous a pursute against the complices of Cassius: And because the said letters containe notable sentences E worthie of such a prince, I will here translate them. ‘I pray (saith he) and require you (Masters) that in regard of the Cassian conspiration, you will depose and lay aside your censure, and conserve my pietie and clemencie, yea, your own, and let none die that be culpable: let no Senator be punished, nor noble blood bee shed: let such as are banished, be called againe, and let their consiscated goods be yeelded unto them againe, and would to God that I could revoke and call again to life such as are dead: [Page 278] For there was never found, that a prince committed a good vengeance of his owne F greefe, but it was alwayes thought too rigorous and sharpe, though never so just: I would have you then to pardon Cassius his children, his sonne in law, and his wife: How should I not say pardon, since they have done nothing, let them live in all assu­rance, and so know that they live under the empire of Marcus: Let them enjoy their fathers patrimonie, his gold, his silver, and other their goods, that they may be rich, assured, free, and let them be examples of our pietie and clemencie, also of yours, in the mouth of al the world. Neither (ô ye Conscript Fathers) is it any great clemencie to pardon the children and wives of such as are banished and condemned, since I demand and pray for pardon, even of the culpable themselves, whether they be Se­nators or knights, that you may deliver them from death, from confiscations, from G infamie, from feare, from envie, & from all injuries, and that you will do this, whilest we raigne, that they which were slaine in the tumult for enterprising against us, bee not defamed.’ After this missive was read in the Senate house, all the Senators with an honorable acclamation begun to crie, The gods conserve Antonine the clement, Antonine most pittifull, Antonine most mercifull: The gods perpetuate thy empire into thy race: We wish all good to thy Wisedome, to thy Clemencie, to thy Do­ctrine, to thy Nobilitie, and to thy Innocencie. This acclamation declareth well how amiable & acceptable Clemencie makes a prince: for there is nothing in the world that better gains the hearts of men, nor that brings to a prince more reverence and love, than this gentlenesse and lenitie of heart: And indeed this good emperour by H his Clemencie got thus much, that after his death, all Rome made a certaine ac­count, that he was ascended into heaven, as to the place of his originall: Because (said they) it was impossible, that so good a soule, endowed with so excellent vertues, shold come from any other place than from heaven, either returne againe to any other place. The very name of Antonine was also so reverenced and loved of all the world from father to sonne in many yeares and generations after him, that many empe­rours his successors caused themselves to bee called Antonines, that the rather they might be beloved of the people, though that name belonged not unto them, nor were of the race or familie of Marcus Antonine: as did Diadumenus the emperour Macrinus his sonne and his companion in the empire, and as also did Bassianus and I Geta, Severus his children, and Heliogabalus, they were all surnamed Antonines. But as this name appertained not unto them, so held they nothing of the vertues of that good emperour, with whose name they decked themselves. Yet many reprehended in Marcus Antonine this his great Clemencie, whereby he so easily pardoned such as had conspired against him, saying, That he provided evill for the safetie of himself and his children, to suffer conspirators to live: This was but a meanes to emboulden wicked people to enterprise conspiracies: and amongst others, the empresse Faustine his wife, found it evill and of bad consequence, that he punished not rigorously the partakers of Cassius, whereupon he writ a very memorable letter to this effect. ‘Very religiously dost thou (ô Faustine, my deare companion) to have care of the assurance K of us and our children: but whereas thou admonishest me to punish the complices of Avidius Cassius, I do advertise thee, that I had rather pardon them: for nothing more recommendeth a Romane emperour amongst all nations, than Clemencie. That was it which placed Iulius Caesar in the number of the gods; which hath con­secrated Augustus; which gave that most honourable title of Pius, that is, gentle and godly to thy father: Finally, Cassius himselfe had not beene slaine, if my advice [Page 279] had been demanded in the slaying of him. I pray thee therefore my deare compa­nion A be not afraid, but hold thy selfe assured under the protection of the gods, who no doubt will guard us, because pietie and Clemencie are so pleasant and agreeable unto them.’

For a resolution then, certaine it is, that nothing can so become, or is so worthy of a prince to practise, as Clemencie, by pardoning such as offend him, and even them which have committed some fault, that may bee excused by some equitable reason, and by mitigating the punishments of the law to such, as upon custome commit no excesse, and which otherwise are vertuous and valorous people, and their offence not exceeding great and hainous: for if otherwise a prince use his Clemencie, with­out having these considerations before his eyes, his fact will rather hold of crueltie B and injustice, than of clemencie: but for a man to practise it with a counterpoise and equall ballance of equitie, justice can be nothing interressed, but rather shall bee re­duced and applied to his true rule.

But assuredly, as a princes Clemencie bringeth to his subjects the fruit of a good equitie, so doth it also acquire unto himselfe this inestimable good, to be beloved of every one, as was Marcus Antonine the emperour. The like happened to Vespasian Sueto. Vesp. Pas. cap. 14. & 15. in [...]i [...]o. cap. 1. & 9. the emperour, who was greatly beloved for his great Clemencie and gentlenesse: for he was so gentle, kind, and clement, that he easily forgot offences committed a­gainst him, yea, he would doe good to his enemies: As when he maried and endow­ed very richly and honourably the daughter of Vitellius, his enemie, which warred C upon him: Moreover, hee would never suffer, that any were punished, who did not well deserve it. Likewise his sonne Titus was so good and clement, that hee was ne­ver blamed for bearing evill will to any man, & often he had this word in his mouth: That he had rather perish himselfe, than lose any: He was of the people surnamed, The delights of mankind, for his kindnesse and Clemencie. In like sort Traian, Adrian, Pius, Tacitus, and many other Romane emperours were so beloved and reveren­ced of their subjects for their naturall humanitie and Clemencie, that they are pla­ced after their deaths in the rowle of their gods.

Moreover, whensoever a prince shall be soft and clement, there is no doubt but Clemencie cause of good works his subjects will imitate him therein: for it is the peoples nature to conforme them­selves D unto their princes manners, as the Proverbe saith:

The example of the princes life in all things commonly
The subiect seekes to imitate with all his possibilitie.

But whensoever subjects doe imitate that most excellent vertue of Debonairetie and Clemencie, certaine also it is, that the whole bodie of the commonwealth is much better composed, more quiet, and better governed: For when men are given to that vertue, they will withall addict themselves to Iustice, Temperance, Charitie, Pietie, and all other vertues, which doe ordinarily accompanie Clemencie, from E whence cannot but arise the estate of a most perfect common-wealth. Therefore we reade, That in the time of the aforesaid emperour Marcus Antonine, the world Capit. in Marcel. was commonly well reformed in good manners: for every man studied to imitate him in his vertues, and especially in his moderation and gentlenes; insomuch (saith Capitolinus) as he made many good men of such as were very bad before, and such as were good, he made them better. This is also the cause why debonaire and gentle [Page 280] princes are alwaies so praised and esteemed, not onely by men of their time, but also F by all Hystoriographers, and all posteritie, because they are ordinarily cause of ma­ny goods to all their subjects: as by contrarie, cruell princes are alwaies diffamed du­ring their lives, and after their deaths, because of great mischeefes, whereof they are cause, authors and executors. This is well painted out by Homer, when he saith:

A wicked man, full of fierce crueltie,
Behind his backe of all accurst shall be;
Odys. lib. 19.
Both during life, and after death also,
Defame on him in every place shall go:
But contrarie, the good and sincere man G
Will grave in mind his praise all that hee can.
How all men in each place set forth his praise
To borders even of nations strange alwaies.

But I doe well know, that hereupon the Machiavellists will say and replie, That if a A princes Clemencie is not the cause of evill. prince will be so facile, to pardon and to practise Clemencie, he will thereby incite men to take experience of that his vertue, and by consequent provoke them to com­mit evill and excesse, under the hope of impunitie: hereunto I answere in a tripar­tite sort: First I say, That if a prince use Clemencie, without derogating from his ju­stice (as above we have said he ought to doe) there will follow no impunitie of a pu­nishable H crime, nor by consequent any provocation to commit any excesse puni­shable: for justice shall alwayes have her course, although by Clemencie it may bee moderated. Secondly, suppose that the Clemencie of a prince might bee a meanes or occasion unto men, to take more license to doe evill, yet could not this take place but in persons of evill nature: for men of good natures and disposition will rather be incited by a princes clemencie to be good like him, by following his vertues, than to bee wicked and ungodly thereby: The prince also which shall bee endowed with Clemencie, will love and follow other vertues, and hate vices, and by consequent will honour and advance vertuous people, and hate and recoile from him such as are vi­cious: This will cause the wicked, which are enclined to vices, to guard themselves I from committing punishable faults: for although they promise to themselves an ea­sinesse, to entreat pardon for their faults by the princes Clemencie, yet can they not promise to themselves to be beloved and entertained of him, but rather evill liked and unadvanced. Thirdly, although Clemencie cannot but draw with it some ini­quitie and injustice (as verily a prince cannot so evenly poise and weigh his affaires in the practise of Clemencie, but there will be alwaies found within them some in­justice) yet that evill which followeth Clemencie, is not so great, that we ought ther­fore altogether to take away Clemencie from a prince, from whence proceeds infi­nit goods, profitable and commodious, as well to the prince himselfe, and his estate, as to his subjects & the whole commonwealth, as may easily be collected out of that K which hath been already said, and shall be spoken hereafter.

The auncient Romanes doe confesse, that their facilitie to pardon, hath many Titus Livius lib. 1. Dec. 4. times brought warres upon them, as also revoltments of their allies and confederats. But what then? Left they therefore alwayes to shew themselves prompt and volun­tarie to use Clemencie towards such as offended them? nay rather it was the vertue, whereof they made greatest estimation, and which they most practised, knowing [Page 281] well, that Clemencie was the true foundation of the greatnesse and estate of the A commonwealth. And this is it which the embassadour of the Romanes spake in an assembly of the Aetolians (a people of Greece) which were sollicited rather to allie themselves with king Philip of Macedonie against the Romanes, than with them to renew their alliance. ‘Our auncestors (saith he) have often experimented, and we also have seene, that because ever wee have beene easie to pardon, wee have occasioned many to experiment our Clemencie; yet were wee never so discouraged, as we would not at all times use equalitie to such as have broken their Faiths unto us, and such as holily observed them, as also reason wills, that such as are loyall and faithfull be bet­ter beloved, favoured and respected than others: Have wee nor warred upon the Samnites, by the space of seaventie yeeres? and during this time, how many times B have they broken their Faiths? how many times have they risen up against us? yet have wee alwaies received them for our allies, after, by marriages have wee come to an affinitie with them, and finally, wee have received them for concitizens into the the towne of Rome. The Capuans revoulted from us, to allie themselves with An­niball; but after wee had besieged them, there were more in the towne which slew themselves, pressed with an evill conscience, than wee caused to dye, after we had ta­ken the towne by force, and left them their towne whole and their goods. Having also vanquished Anniball, and the Carthaginians, which had done us so many mischiefes and so often broken their Faiths, yet left wee them in peace and liberty. Briefely ô Aetolians (said hee) you should know and beleeve, that the Romane peo­ple C will alwaies have Clemencie, in most singular recommendation, and you shall doe farre more for your selves, to replant your selves into our amitie and alliance, unles you love better to perish with Phillip, than to vanquish and prosper with the Romanes.’ Vnto this remonstrance of the Romane embassadors, the Aetolians States would deliver no answere, but amongst themselves resolved secretly, neither to be on the one side, nor the other, and that at the end of the warre, they would joyne them­selves to the strongest, which in the end was their bane, yet found they refuge in the Romanes Clemencie: And verely Clemency is such a vertue, as a prince may never dispoyle himselfe of, although sometimes it seeme hee get harme thereby: For Cle­mencie is not cause of any evill, but onely the malice of men doth abuse it; yet it D doth not therefore follow, that it is to bee rejected, because a man may abuse it, no more than to cast away all wine, as a pernitious thing, because therewith many are drunke: But let us now come to the other effect of Clemencie.

Besides the effects whereof, wee have above discoursed, which are to temper the rigour of justice, to make the prince beloved, reverenced, and praised of all the world, and to fill his subjects with good manners, there are yet, three other effects worthie of note in a princes Clemencie, that thereby hee may bee better obeyed, more as­sured in his estate, and may augment his domination: And to touch those three points in order one after an other, I will presuppose for the first point: That a prince makes himselfe easily and well obeyed, when the wils of his subjects are of themselves A clement prince better obeyed. E well disposed to yeeld obedience: But it is certaine, when a prince is debonaire and clement, that his subjects will bee alwaies well disposed to obey him, for two reasons: The one because he shal be beloved, & the amitie which his subjects beare him, shall incite and stirre them more willinglie to obey him; The other reason, because being soft and gentle, his commands also are sweet and gratious, founded upon reason and equitie, and this will cause them easily to yeeld obedience, because there is nothing [Page 282] that more enduceth a subject to render his prince obedience, and to obey his com­mand, F than when themselves do see and judge, that the commandement is both rea­sonable & equall, for equitie is the sinew of the commandement & of the law, which makes it forcible and brings it into action, and without this equitie, the law cannot endure, nor long bee observed.

Therefore the lawes and ordinances which the Romanes, gave to the Macedoni­ans, Titus Livius lib. 5. Dec. 5. after they had brought Macedonie under their obedience, endured very long be­fore they were in any thing chaunged or corrected: For they were so upright and convenient for that nation, as the usage it selfe (saith Titus Livius, which is the true corrector of lawes) found nothing to reprehend or correct, by the experience of many yeeres. Very memorable also is the manner of the Romanes use, to make How to make good lawes. lawes, and especially those which they gave to the Macedonians: For they were not G contented to handle and deale with them in their Senate, to cut and stretch them after their fancies (as some doe at this day, which make lawes in their chambers with such as themselves) but elected ten delegates or deputies, wise and honourable men, which went all over Macedonie, to inquire and bee informed of the manners and conditions of the countrie people, and of their antient customes and liberties, and to have their peoples aduice of such lawes as were fittest for them: By this meanes they made very covenable lawes for the nation of the Macedonians, which they found good, holy and equall, and they willingly obeyed and observed them, with good hearts, without any constraint: And assuredly this is the best meane when men makes new lawes and ordinances, that is to have the aduice of such as are to have H & obey them, to know of them the discommodities that by them may fall out, which they must needes know better than any other: And for this reason the antient kings of France, made their lawes and ordinances, by the advice of the States generall, or at the least by the assemblie of a great number of barons, prelates, and wise peo­ple of each great towne, of the kingdome, which assembly they called the kings great Counsell: And the Romane emperours, made their lawes by their Senates advice, as wee have in another place said. And indeed it is a rash presumption of one man a­lone, or a few men, to thinke they can make lawes of themselves and covenable or­dinances, for a people and a nation, without having the advice of them of that nati­on, yea of many & of divers countries: The ancient Romanes were of a better judge­ment, I than such presumptuous persons, and they never received law, till it was well tossed and handled, and till every one were hard speake, that would either persuade or disuadethe law, which was to be enacted: Therefore (saith Titus Livius) it came often to passe, that the Tribunes (whose office it was to cause the law to bee received or rejected by the people) desisted from the receit of a law, being moved so to doe by the reasons and remonstrations of such as disuaded it: and often times also op­posing themselves against the reception of a law, they departed from their oppositi­on, being moved thereunto by the reasons of such as persuaded, and truely if the lawes and ordinances, which are made for the government of a kingdome or other K principallitie, were so well examined before they were concluded, and that everie man were heard, in a generall assembly of States, to persuade or disuade them, so ma­ny absurd, and weake lawes, would not bee made as are, neither by consequent would they bee so evill observed as they are: For they should be made equall & commodi­ous for such as should obey them, and so would each man obey them with good will, because as is said, Equitie is that which holdeth law in action & observation.

[Page 283] Moreover none neede to doubt, but when he that hath authoritie to command, Dion. in Pompeio. Plutarch in Lucul. A is beloved, that by that meanes he shall not bee better obeyed. Lucullus was a valiant and wise captaine, who executed great matters against Mithridates & Tigranes, two of the greatest kings of Levant, and of all Asia, but in the end not being able to obtaine the love of his souldiers, hee was in hazard by their disobedience to have overthrowne all the glory and honour, which hee had acquired: This disobedience of his army, was the cause that the Romanes called him from Levant, before hee had altogether ended the subjugating of those two kings, and sent in his place Pom­peius, who did nothing else but (as I may say) gathered the fruit that Lucullus had sowne, and carried away the honour and triumph of his paines and travels: For the necessitie was such, that Pompeius must necessarilie bee sent in Lucullus his place, B for that Lucullus was nothing obeyed of his people of warre, because they loved him not, he was so sterne and uncourteous: and as soone as they had obtained Pom­peius for their captaine generall, they greatly obeyed him, because hee was unto them gentle, clement and affable, insomuch as he did with them, what hee would, and by their forces and valloures hee brought all the East under the Romanes obedience: This then was a great evill hap for Lucullus (who otherwise was endowed with ex­cellent vertues) that hee could not use softnesse, clemencie, and kindnesse towards his souldiers, and have gotten love, and to have contained them in his obedience, but so to lose the fruit of his travailes and victories, not wholy finishing that where­of hee had taken charge. C

But yet greater evill lucke happened unto Appius Claudius, who was so excee­ding Titus Livius lib. 2. Dec. 1. rigorous and imperious, that hee caused his souldiers, rather to hate than love him: Hee being Consull and captaine generall of the Romane army, against the Volsques, practised in the campe towards the souldiers, the same rigour and severity which hee did against the common people at Rome, and cared not to bee beloved, but onely sought to make himselfe to be feared: This was the cause that his people of warre would not obey him, but as constrained, they executed their charge co­wardly and negligently: When hee commanded to march quickly and swiftly, his souldiers would goe slowly and softly; when hee came towards them to command them any thing, they would not vouchsafe to regard him, but fixed their eyes on the D ground, and as hee passed by, cursed him: Hee once went about to assemble them all in one place, to have persuaded them to have performed their dueties in a bat­taile, but in place being assembled, they scattered themselves hither and thither: When hee saw this manifest disobedience, in lieu to correct his rigour (which was cause thereof) hee augmented and redoubled it, by causing them to bee whipped with rods, and by putting to death the captaines, which dispersed themselves, when they should have joyned together, and at last he fell to decimer and to tythe all the rest of his army by lot, putting to death one of each ten through his army: Yet for all this hee did nothing of account or to his honour: Returning after to Rome, hee was accused by the tribunes of his great severitie and inclemencie, and by not get­ting E the love of his souldiers, hee effected nothing but his dishonour and shame: But fearing to bee condemned, hee procured his owne death in his house: and this evill hap accompanied with great opprobrie & ignominie, had not happened unto him, if hee had beene of a gentle and good nature, to have obtained love.

The Bountie, Clemencie, and Gentlenesse of a prince manifest themselves by many meanes towards his subjects, as by good tractations and comforts, farre from [Page 284] oppression, by maintaining their liberties and franchises, by making edicts & equall F ordinances, and in observing, and causing good justice to be observed: But the plea­santest meane which most contenteth the subjects, is, when the princed dooth them this honour, to communicate himselfe to them, deales in publick affaries with them, and demands their advises, aids, and meanes: for subjects seeing themselves on the one side so much honoured of their prince, as to be called into the participation of his counsell, and seeing and understanding on the other side the urgencie of the publicke affaires, and just reasons wherefore the prince demaundeth such a thing or such a thing, it is certain, that they will obey much more voluntarily, than when they know nothing of his affaires, and when they know not wherfore, nor wherein, mony should bee employed that is demanded. This was seene and practised at the begin­ning in a parliament held at Tours of the generall States during the raigne of king G Charles the eight, Anno 1483, as M. Philip de Comines witnesseth: for the poore peo­ple De Comines, lib. 1. cap. 109, 110. of Fraunce were before vexed and eaten up by the space of 20 yeares and more with great tallages and imposts, and great civile warres, which never comes without a great ruine: yet notwithstanding, seeing themselves so much honoured by their prince, as by him to be convocated together with the States to understand publicke affaires, and therein to give their aid and advice, not onely the States accorded to their king, the impost which he demaunded, but also humbly besought his majestie, that it would please him to assemble them againe within two yeares after, and that if his said Majestie had not money ynough to dispatch his affaires, they would at his H pleasure furnish him: and that if he had any warre, or that any would offend him, they would employ their persons and goods for his service, and never would denie him any thing whereof hee had need. Behold then how this soft and sweet manner of a princes actions, to conferre of his affaires with his subjects, makes him so obei­ed, as by this meanes hee may sooner obtaine a great thing, than by rigour a small thing. And to this purpose he askes certaine questions with a good grace▪ ‘Might it Comines. not bee accounted a farre more just thing both before God and the world by such force as this, to levie money, than upon a disordinate will? For no prince cannot o­therwise levie it but by tyrannie: would priviledges, to take it at their pleasure, bee alledged against so good subjects, which so liberally give that which is demaunded? I was such an assembly daungerous and treasonable? according as some men of base condition and baser vertue say, alledging that to congregate the States, is, to dimi­nish the kings anthoritie, and to commit treason: but rather those commit treason towards God, the king, and the commonweale, which hold estates and offices, which they never merited: neither serve they to any other thing, but to whisper and tattle in princes eares, things of small account: and they feare nothing more than great as­semblies, that so they may not appeare and bee knowne as they are.’ These words of Comines are very notable to be applied to our time.

Let us now come to the other effect of the Clemencie of a prince, which concer­neth the assurance of his estate. Hereupon I thinke every man will confesse unto me, K A clement prince assu­red in his State. that there is nothing that better assureth a prince in his estate, than when hee hath no enemies: But a debonaire and gentle prince shall never lightly procure enemies, but rather daily friends: because that vertue of Clemencie is of it selfe so amiable and attractive, that they are alwayes loved, which are endowed therewith: And if sometimes enemies arise against a good and gentle prince (as the envie and desire to have and to make themselves greater, causeth ambitious and covetous men some­times [Page 285] to enterprise upon such clement princes) yet very hardly shall such enemies A shake their estates, or prevaile against them, and especially if that prince with his Clemencie, have about him a good Counsell: For his vertues will procure him ma­ny friends of his neighbours, and make his subjects voluntarie and obeisant; inso­much, as it shall be very easie for him to resist the enterprises of such as will invade & set upon him. We reade, that the emperour Alexander Severus was very modest, Lampri. in Alex. Sever. soft, clement, and affable towards all his subjects, wherewith Mammaea his mother was not content: So that one day she said unto him, that he had made his authoritie not regarded, but contemptible by his Clemencie: Yea, but (answered hee) I have made my estate so much the longer and more assured: And in truth he had in likely­hood lived longer time: but she so ruled him, that he got the evill will of his subjects, B and so did his sonne by the extreame avarice and arrogancie that was in her, which caused the death of them both. The same notable speech of Alexander is attributed to Theopompus king of Sparta, who knowing, that the puissance of a king is good and Plutarch in Apo. excellent, when kings use it well: but because there were farre more kings which a­buse their powers, than that use them well, he provided for himselfe and his successors certaine Censors and correctors, to reprehend them of their faults, which were cal­led Ephori: Certaine then said unto Theopompus, that by this establishment of Ephori he had lessened and enfeeblished his power: Nay then (said he) I have fortified it, and made it perdurable, meaning to say (as true it is) that there is nothing which better fortifieth, nor which makes more firme and stable a princes estate, than when he go­vernes C himselfe with such a sweet moderation, that even he submits himselfe to the observation of lawes and censures. The emperour Severus otherwise endowed with Spart. & Dion. in Carac. many great vertues, had not this good, to be debonaire and clement, but rather was rigorous and cruell: yet he knew well, and himselfe confessed, that Clemencie is a vertue most worthie of a prince, and he much desired to bee so esteemed, although his actions were contrarie. I know well, that here the Machiavellists may reply upon me, that he faigned and only made a shew, to esteeme of Clemencie, upon a certain kind of playing the Fox, and dissimulation, which Machiavell holdeth to be conve­nient for a prince: Here unto I make a double answere: And I say, suppose in this place Severus meant to play the Fox, yet when he so much praiseth Clemencie, and D so faine would seeme clement, he therby seemes to approve that vertue, as both low­able and good. Secondly, I say, that it is credible, that Severus, although he was ex­ceeding sanguinarie and cruell during his raigne, yet in the end he found, that it had been better for him, if he had been Clement: for with his owne eyes he saw Plautia­nus his greatest and especiallest friend, and Bassianus his eldest son (whom with him­selfe he associated in the empire) both of them (though not together) conspire to slay him; insomuch, as he durst not punish them, because they had learned of him to be sanguinarie and cruell: and at the end of his dayes, the last words hee spake, were, That he left the empire firme and assured to his Antonines (meaning Bassianus and Geta, which he named Antonines, that they might be beloved) provided, that they proved good princes: but if they were wicked and cruell, then he left them weak E and evill assured: And indeede these last words were as a prophecie to his children: For Bassianus his eldest sonne (who succeeded him in the empire) was as cruell as he, and begun to exercise his crueltie, in slaying with his owne hand Geta his brother, and after continued it upon his friends and other notable people a great number, which he brought to their deaths: and therefore was not his foot long in the em­pire, [Page 286] but (according as his father prophecied of his death) hee was soone despoyled F thereof, and of his life withall: for he was slaine by Macrinus his lieutenant, and li­ved but nine and twentie yeares, whereof he raigned sixe. The emperour Domitian also was a very cruell prince, yet he greatly praised Clemencie in a prince, and ordi­narily, when he reasoned upon any affaire in the Senat, he often enterlaced amongst his speeches some commendations of his owne Clemencie, although he was most cruell and wicked. And breefely, we may say and conclude, that this vertue of Cle­mencie is so excellent and lowable of it selfe, that even the wicked, which reject it, are notwithstanding constrained to have it in estimation, and to confesse it is a vertue worthie of a prince.

From the beginning that Rome was reduced into the forme of a commonweale, G and delivered from the tyrannie of the Tarquins, the people were sent to the warre Dioni. Halic. lib. 5. without wages, and whilest they were at the warre for the commonweale, the interests and usuries which they ought to the rich (for alwaies the poore are debters to the rich) left not to encrease and multiplie; insomuch, as when the souldiers returned from the warre (some being maimed and wounded) in stead to have rest in their hou­ses, they had the usurers on their backs, which demanded the usuries run on, during the time of the warre: Hereupon arose there in the towne a great sedition, for the poore amongst the people could not suffer this rude handling, that they thus should be tormented with seisures and pawning of their goods, and with imprisonments of their persons, for the interests growing during the warre, and being in the common­wealths H service. This cause finally comming in deliberation in the Senate house, Va­lerius Publicola (who was one of them which helped away the tyrant from Rome) spoke thus: This the usurers rigorous dealing, is but a new tyrannie: and it is but a small thing for us to have expulsed from Rome the tyrannie of the Tarquins, if now wee will establish another: & that it was too unreasonable, that souldiers should pay interests running on, whilest they served the commonwealth, since also they served without wages. Therefore he exhorted the Senate to releeve the people of those in­terests for their content, and that afterward they might with so much the better will serve the commonweale at a need: For els (saith he) certaine it is, if there be a conti­nuance of this rigorous dealing, it will bring the people into a great disobedience, & I a sedition into the commonwealth, the estate wherof by this means may be shrewdly shaken and hazarded: But if the people be kindly and graciously used in acquiting them of the said interests, by this meanes you shall make most assured the estate of the citie. The Senate followed this advice of Publicola, knowing well, that the fir­mitie and assurednesse of the publicke State is founded upon Clemencie and Gentlenesse.

Anniball making warre in Italie, meaning to goe to Capua, commanded one of Titus Livius lib. 2. Dec. 3. the prisoners he held, to guide him to a place called Casin, which was in the way to Capua: This prisoner supposing Anniball had bidden him guide him to Casi­lin (and that because Anniball spoke not well the Latine language) hee conducted K his armie on that side to Casilin, farre from the way to Capua: Anniball perceiving hee was evill guided, caused to whip and hang the prisoner which had done this before he would heare any excuse. This rigorous execution and other cruelties that he used, never caused such as were allied with the Romanes, to breake from them, al­though on every side they saw themselves in great perill, because (saith Titus Livius) they knew that they were commanded by a just and a moderate government, and [Page 287] by good people that hated crueltie, therefore refused they not to obey (which is the A true bond of Faith) the best, most prudent, and humane.

Antiochus king of Syria, and a great dominator in Levant, having enterprised a Titus Livius lib. 7. Dec. 3. warre against the Romanes, they sent against him Lucius Scipio, for captaine generall of their armie, although otherwise he was no great warriour: But the cause why the Romanes delivered so great and honourable a charge unto him was, because the great Scipio the Affrican, his brother had declared, that if Lucius his brother were chosen generall captaine to goe against Antiochus, he should be there as his lieu­tenant: As then they both were in Greece with the Romane armie, making warre upon that king, it so happened, that the only sonne of Scipio the Affrican was taken prisoner by Antiochus souldiers: Antiochus having this young lord in his hands, B entertained and used him very honourably, knowing that that great Scipio was of such Clemencie, that he would never forget, that the pleasure and that the amitie of so great a personage might stand him in good stead in some great necessities, as losse of a battaile, or of a captivitie, or such like. Not long after Scipio fell sicke, whereof Antiochus hearing, he sent him his sonne without ransome, fearing Scipio would die with greefe and melancholie, by whose death he doubted to leese a good refuge: For that king (saith Titus Livius) trusted more in the Clemencie and authoritie of Scipio alone, for the uncertaine and doubtfull haps of warre, than in his armie of 60000 footmen, and 12000 horsemen. Is not here, thinke you, an admirable effect of Cle­mencie, that an enemie dooth better assure his estate upon his enemies Clemencie, C than upon his owne forces?

But what need we any more to amplifie by examples or authorities this point? doth not ordinarie experience shew, and ever hath done, that all good and clement princes have alwaies been very assured in their estates: as Augustus, Vespasian, Tra­ian, Adrian, the Antonines, and many other Romane emperours, and the most part of our kings of Fraunce, which were clement and debonaire, doe fully proove this which I say: for they raigned very peaceably; died of naturall deaths; and after their deaths were greatly lamented of the people. Here I may not forget a notable sen­tence of the emperour Antonius Pius, which hee received from Scipio the Affrican, Capit. in Pio. Sue [...]. in Au­gust. cap. 35. which was this, That hee loved better to preserve one of his subjects, than to sley a D thousand of his enemies: Assuredly, a sentence of a good and clement prince, who delighted not in shedding of blood, as our Machiavelists doe at this day, which are so covetous of such blood, as they account their enemies, that whensoever any of marke, fals into their hands, they will not give him for an hundred pounds: They may well say contrary to Scipio and the emperor Pius, that they had rather slay an enemie, than save an hundred friends. Are not these people worthie to commaund? Neither make they any account more of their princes subjects, than of slaves, which men may beat, scourge, or sley at their pleasure, as beasts: as indeed there hath been late­ly a burne-paper-fellow, a writer for wages, one of these Machiavelists, who durst publish by writing, That the authority of a prince over his subjects, is like that which E a lord hath over his villaine and slave, having power over death and life, to sley and massacre them at their pleasure without forme of justice, and so to despoile them of their goods. And how comes this? Thinkes this sot, that the office of a king is like to the office of a gally captaine, to hold his subjects in chaines, and every day to whip them with scourges? Surely, they which hold that opinion, doe merit to be so handled, yea, that some good gally captaine would twice or thrice a day practise that [Page 288] goodly doctrine upon their shoulders: but how much more notable and humane, is F the doctrine wee learne of the life of Augustus Caesar? who so much feared, that men had such an opinion of him, that he would not take away, but onely diminish the libertie of the people, that he could never abide and suffer to be called Dominus, that is to say, Lord, but abhorred it as an injurious name, & full of opprobry, because it hath some relation to Servus, which is to say, servant, or slave: he being farre from the affectation of such great and magnificall names, as many great men have since well liked of, without shewing the effect of them.

The third point now remaineth, which is to shew, That the Clemencie of a prince A prince by Clemencie encreaseth his domina­tion. Dionis. Halic. lib. 2. Plutarke in Caesar & A­lexand. is cause of the encreasement of his domination. Hereupon we reade a memorable hystorie of Romulus, who was so clement, soft, and gentle towards his people, which G he vanquished and subjugated, that not only many particulars, but the whole multi­tude of people submitted themselves voluntarily and unconstrainedly under his o­bedience. The same vertue was also cause, that Iulius Caesar vanquished the Gaulois: for he was so soft and gracious unto them, and so easie to pardon, and used them eve­ry way so well, farre from all oppression, that many of that nation voluntarily joyned themselves unto him, and by them he vanquished the others. When Alexander the Great made great conquests in Asia, most commonly the citizens of all great cities met him, to present unto him the keyes of the townes: for he dealt with them in such Clemencie and kindnesse, without in any thing altering their estates, that they liked better to be his, than their owne. H

Anniball having taken the towne of Saguntum in Spaine, was so feared and re­doubted, Titus Livius lib. 2. Dec. 3. that the most part of Spaine submitted themselves under his obedience, and abandoned the Romane societie, because they had not aided Saguntum against Anniball: The Romanes (to repaire their fault whereat they tooke much greefe) sent great forces into Spaine under the conduction of Publius Scipio, father of the Afri­can, and of Cneius his uncle: Anniball to containe in obedience the Spaniards, tooke in hostage their children, their brethren, or parents of all the nobilitie of the coun­trey, and the notablest citizens of the good townes, and set them under guard at Sa­guntum, under the charge of some small number of souldiers. God would, that those hostages should find meanes to escape from their prison, yet it was their haps to fall I into the hands of the Scipioes. The Scipioes having possession of them, in place to re­venge themselves upon them (as they feared) for the fault they and their parents had made by their revoltment from the Romanes, they welcommed and dealt with them very graciously, and sent them all to their parents and houses. This Clemencie and kindnesse of the Scipioes was cause, that soone after all Spaine forsook the obedience of Anniball and the Carthaginians, and fell under the government of the Romans, which they would never have done, if these hostages had been dealt with after the counsels and precepts of Machiavell.

Yet the example of Clemencie in Scipio the Affrican, is more notable than this Titus Livius lib. 3. Dec. 3. of his father and uncle. After the deaths of his said father and uncle, this young lord K full of all generositie and hardinesse, came to besiege new Carthage in Spain (which the Carthaginians of Affricke had founded there) and did so much, as hee got it by assault: Besides, the great riches which he found within the towne, he found there al­so within that towne a good number of Spanish hostages, which the Carthaginians held there for the better assurance of other townes of Spaine, which they had regai­ned upon the Romanes after the death and overthrow of the Scipioes and their hoast. [Page 289] Scipio as soone as the towne was taken, caused all the hostages to be brought before A him, and wished them to take good courage, and that they should feare nothing, for they were falne into the power of the Romane people, which loved better to bind men unto them by good deeds than by feare, and to joyne all strange nations unto them, rather by a societie, than by a sad servitude. After hee had thus encouraged them, hee dispatched messengers through all Spaine, to the end every man might come thither to seeke his hostages, and in the meane while gave expresse charge to Flaminius his treasurer to handle them well and honourably: Amongst other hosta­ges, there was a young ladie of a great house, which was brought to Scipio, which was of so great beautie, that as she passed by, she dreweach mans regard upon her: This ladie was fianced unto one Allucius, prince of the Celtiberians. Scipio taking know­ledge B of her parents, and to whom shee was fianced, also that Allucius extreamely loved her, he sent for them all: Her parents came with a great quantitie of gold and silver for her ransome: Allucius came also: They all beeing present before Scipio, hee said to that young prince Allucius: ‘My deare friend, understanding, that ardently you love this young ladie (as her beautie well meriteth it) I thought it good to keepe her for you, as I would my affianced should be kept for me, if the affaires of the com­monweale permitted me to thinke upon the action of legitimate love: in favor then of your affections, I have preserved your loves inviolated: in recompence whereof, I only desire and pray you, that from henceforth you will be friends unto the Roman people: and if you will credit me as a good man, that is desirous to follow the traces C of my father and uncle, which you knew: Know you, that in our towne there be many like to us, and that there is no people in the world, which you ought lesser to desire for enemies, nor more for a friend.’ After Scipio had thus graciously entertained this young prince, he was so filled with shame and joy, that presently he prayed the gods that they would acquite to Scipio that great benefit, for hee could never doe it. The said ladies parents stepped forward, and presented unto him a great quantitie of gold and silver for their daughters ransome, which although Scipio refused, yet they pres­sed it so sore upon him, that he accorded to take it, and bad them lay it before him; which they doing, Scipio called Allucius, and said unto him: Good friend, besides the dowrie which your father in law will give you, my desire is, that you will take this sil­ver D at my hands, as an encrease of her dowrie. Allucius very joyfull of so great a be­nefit, thanking him greatly, returned with his lover in great contentment unto his countrey: where as soone as he came, he sowed the fame of those things through all Spaine, saying, That there was come into that countrey a young lord, like the gods, which vanquisheth all men, by armes, by clemencie, and magnificence: Within a smal time after he came to the service of Scipio with 1400 horse. Not long after came also to Scipio the parents of the other hostages which he had taken in new Carthage, all which he yeelded unto them, conditionally to be the Romanes friends. Hee gave also to a great lord called Mandonius, his wife, who was sister of another great lord, named Indibilis, which were exceeding joyous thereof, and promised Scipio all fide­litie: E Amongst those prisoners also, there was found a young prince, called Massiva, the nephew of Massinissa king of Numidia, which he sent to his uncle, after he had honourably apparrelled, mounted and accompanied him. This was the cause that Massinissa stucke so firmely to the Romane partie, wherein he constantly persevered all his life, and greatly aided Scipio, to the overthrow of the Carthaginians: And as for the Spaniards (whose hostages Scipio had sent home without ransome) they per­formed [Page 290] many great favours to him in all his Spanish wars: Breefely, this great Cle­mencie, F kindnesse, and gentlenesse of Scipio, were the cause that all his high & migh­tie enterprises were ever facile & easie unto him: But herein appeared in him a dou­ble Clemencie, namely, that the two lords above-named, Mandonius and Indibilis revolted, and so caused all their countrey to revolt also, upon a false fame that run of Scipioes death: But after finding the report false, they resolved yet once againe to proove his Clemencie as an assured refuge, and so went & fell on their knees before him, desiring pardon, & confessing their faults. Scipio after he had rebuked them, said unto them in this sort: ‘My friends, by your merits you shall die, but you shall live by the benefit of the Romane people: And although the custome be, to take all armes from rebels, yet I will not take them from you, but if you fall any more into such a G fault, I shall have reason with armes to take armes from armed people, but not from disarmed: Therefore seeing you have many times experimented the Romanes Cle­mencie, take heed also you prove not their vengeance and wrath.’ By this example then of Scipio it appeares, that a prince ought alwaies to be enclined to Clemencie, wherby he may obtaine friends, augment his dominations, shun Gods indignation, the envie of men, and to do to another that which he would should be done to him­selfe. This is it which Romulus said to the Antenates and Caeninians, which hee had vanquished & subjugated: ‘Although (said he) you have merited to suffer al extreame things, for that you rather loved warre against us, than our amitie: yet many reasons Dioni. Halic. lib. 2. moove us to use our victorie moderately, in respect of the indignation of the gods, H unto whom pride is odious, the feare of the envie & evill will of men, and because we beleeve, that Mercie and Clemencie is a great releese and remedie for the miseries and calamities of mortall men, which we would gladly entreat of others in our owne distresses and calamities: We therefore pardon you this fault, and leave you in the same enjoiance of your goods, as you were before.’

The Romane Senat had alwayes Clemencie in great recommendation, yea, even towards them which had often rebeled. The Ligurians (which now we cal Genevois) Titus Liviu [...]. lib. 2. Dec. 2. rose up against the Romanes many times; insomuch, as they sent against them Mar­cus Popilius, Consull, with a puissant armie. Popilius having subjugated and vanqui­shed them, he took their armes from them, dismantelled and destroied their townes, I and sould the goods and persons of such as were taken in warre. The Senate thought this very hard, to sell so many men, which implored the Romanes mercie, and tooke it to be an evill example, to cause their enemies from thence forward in desperat sort to have recourse to armes, as an extreame necessitie, rather than to their Clemencie: So it was ordained, that they should be redeemed which were sould, & their goods also that could bee recovered; that the Ligurians should also have their armes: and withall, Popilius was countermanded to returne, and give over the government to an­other of Liguria.

Camillus, generall captaine of the Roman armie, besieged the town of Falisques, Titus Liviu [...] lib. 5. Dec. 1. the Romanes enemies: The schoolemaster of Falisques enterprised a great wicked­nesse K and villanie: for making a countenance to lead (for sport & pastime) the youth of the towne, which were committed unto him to be instructed, he straight brought all that youth to Camillus his camp, hoping he would give him some good recom­pence, speaking in this manner: Lord Camillus, I yeeld into your hands the towne of Falisques, for I here bring you their deare & loving children, which to recover, they will easily yeeld themselves to you. ‘To whom Camillus answered: Wicked wretch, [Page 291] thou addressest not thy selfe to thy like: We have by compacts no societie with the A Falisques, but by nature we have: we are not ignorant of the right of warre and of peace, which we will couragiously observe: we make not warre upon yong children: for even when we take townes, wee pardon them, so doe wee also to them which beare armes against us: Thou wouldest vanquish the Falisques by deceit and villanie; but I will vanquish them by vertue & armes, as I overcame the Veians. After this, Camil­lus commaunded to bind the schoolemasters hands behind him, and to give all the schollers roddes in their hands, which whipped him naked into the towne.’ As thus in this sort the children brought their master to the towne, all the people ran to see the spectacle, which so changed their courages, before full of wrath & hatred against the Romanes, that straight they sent delegates to Camillus, to desire peace, admiring B the Romane clemencie and justice. Camillus knowing, that he alone could not enter­prise to conclude a peace, sent the said delegates towards the Senate of Rome; where arriving, they made this speech to the Senat: Having (my masters) been vanquished by an agreeable victorie both to gods and men, we yeeld our selves to you, knowing, that our estate shall be better under your domination, than in our owne liberties and customes: The issue of this warre will serve hereafter for a double example to al man­kind: for it seemes you doe better love loyaltie in warre, than present victorie: And we being provoked by your kindnesse and loyaltie, do gladly and willingly yeeld you the victorie. We offer our selves your subjects, and we shall never repent our selves of your domination, nor you of your loyaltie. The peace and alliance accorded to the C Falisques, Camillus entred Rome in triumph, and was more esteemed to bee a victor by Clemencie, than if it had been by Armes.

He that would here collect so many examples as hystories doe furnish us concer­ning this matter, should never have done, but I satisfie my selfe with the most me­morable amongst them: for in a notorious and evident thing, there is no need to insist more amply.

23. Maxime. D

‘A Prince ought to have a turning and winding wit, with art and practise made fit, to be cruell and unfaithfull, that he may shew himselfe such an one when there is need.’

IT is good (saith our Florentine) that a prince should appear Cap. 18. Of a prince. E to be loyall, piteous, liberall, yea, and effectually to bee so, vvhensoever hee seeth it is profitable unto him: But yet a princes spirits must be so flexible, so ductible and easie to bee led, so handsomely and naturally fitted, and with custome used, as he can do [Page 292] the contrarie at all times at a need: For most commonly necessitie re­quires, F that a prince should shew himselfe disloyall, cruell, fierce, and niggardly.

THe Philosophers call habitude that promptnesse & aptnesse which men acquire by frequent exercise of the actions of every art. As a Taylor by customable exercise of cutting and shaping, obtaines an habit and dexteritie, to know well how to make garments. An Ar­cher in a crosbow or gunne, by the often exercise of shooting, ob­taineth that habitude, to draw well, and to shoot nigh the white: G and so it is in all other actions and sciences, every man may get an habitude by fre­quent exercise. Machiavels mind then is, That it is not sufficient for a prince some­times to be cruell, perfidious, fierce, covetous, and illiberall; but by frequent exercise of crueltie, perfidie, and covetousnesse, he must obtaine an habitude, promptly, dex­teriously, and handsomely at his pleasure to practise these goodly vertues at a need. For if by frequent exercise hee could not obtaine this habit, it might so fall out, that in his necessitie he should be found to seeke in the practise of them in that sort which should be requisite and necessarie: even as an Archer or Gunner cannot know how handsomely to handle his Bow and Gunne to come nigh the marke, who not past once or twice before hath handled them: Because (as Aristotle saith) one sole acti­on H makes not an habitude, no more than one alone Swallow brings a certaine assu­rance of the Springs comming: But I pray you, is not this a triumphant doctrine for a prince to be taught? nay, rather to teach some devill of hell: for since the nature of divels cannot tend but to evill, a man may say, that it should be very covenable that they had (as I beleeve they have) Machiavell to teach them the precepts of the art of wickednesse: As this Maxime must needs be one of them, whereby hee wills, that these vicious qualities of crueltie, perfidie, and niggardlinesse should be in a prince, not as in an habit and perfection: But I will not stand to confute here this Maxime: for before, we have sufficiently spoken of crueltie and perfidie, and at large demon­strated, how unworthy they are for a prince: And as for Covetousnesse, we shal have I occasion to speak of it in another Maxime: yet I would desire all persons which have in them any pietie and love of vertue, to learne to detest so abhominable a doctrine, as this which Machiavell here teacheth: for there was never Arabian, Scythian, or Turke, which ever taught a more strange & barbarous doctrine, as to persuademen to make habitudes of vices? Let us also learne to discerne spirits before we beleeve them. If Machiavell had been knowne to be such a man as I hope he shall bee deci­phered by this discourse, it is likely he should not have done so much harme as hee hath done. And finally, let us thanke our good God, which hath not permitted, that our spirits should be infected with such a corruption, as to approove or follow such abhorrent doctrine from pietie and reason, and such monstrous & savage opinions: K For as Thucidides calleth them, servants and slaves of absurd opinions, such as follow evill counsell sooner than good, as the Athenians often did: So do I beleeve them to be double, yea, centuple slaves and miserable, which suffer their spirits to bee persua­ded and deluded with the doctrine and impietie of Machiavell.

24. Maxime. A

‘A prince desirous to breake a peace, promised and sworne with his neigh­bour, ought to moove warre against his friend.’

THe prince (saith Machiavell) having made certaine ca­pitulations B with his neighbour, vvhich long time have Discourse. lib. 2. cap▪ 9. beene established and well observed, so that hee feareth directly to breake them, lest he fall to open warre vvith his said neighbour, he must stirr him by taking armes against his friend, knowing that the other vvill feele himselfe touched, vvhen the assault is delivered to his friend and confederate, and vvill sustaine and re­venge him, and so shall it seeme that hee himselfe▪ is the first provo­ker of warre and breaker of peace▪ C

MAchiavell, because hee hath above taught, that a prince may alwaies finde coulours inough to palliate and cover the infrac­tion of faith, now hee gives a rule, saying; That to palliate a rupture of peace or confederation, with a prince his neighbour, hee must assaile his confederates friend: Wee have before am­ply disputed against these subtill palliations, and have shewed by many examples, that the issue hath alwaies prooved evill to them that use them: And surely such cautells and subtil­ties, D are not onely most unworthie of a generous prince, but also of all other men, and by lawes hee is no lesse punishable, that hath done wrong to a man, by cautell and subtiltie, than if hee had done it by force.

The ancient Romanes, by the forme and course they had to make confederati­ons and peace with the people their neighbours, shewed well how far they were from Titus Livius lib. 1. Dec. 2. this doctrine of Machiavell: For the Pater Patratus (who was the stipulator or ma­ster of the ceremonies or arbitrer of peace) after all articles accorded, of the one part, and of the other, & oathes taken, pronounced a great height, these words; The first of the two people which breaketh the peace, bee it by deliberate counsell, or by subtill deceit, graunt ô Iupiter, that the same day, hee may bee bruised and beaten, E as now with this flint stone, I bruise this pig: and therewithall after this speach, hee with a stone beats downe a porke pig. Briefely they no lesse detested the rupture of a peace, made by a subtiltie, than if it had beene made by an open warre: They al­so held it for a thing certaine, that alwaies the evill fortunes of a renued warre, fell upon them which had broken the peace: but because we have above discoursed up­on this matter, we will passe on to the next Maxime.

25. Maxime. F

‘A prince ought to have his minde disposed to turne after every winde, and variation of Fortune, that hee may know to make use of a Vice, when G neede is.’

A Good thing is not alwaies profitable, nor in season, and of­tentimes a prince who would practise it, shall thereby draw Cap. 18 & 25 Of a prince. on his owne destruction: For sometimes it fals out, that ne­cessarily hee must use that which is evill, and vice: Therefore a wise prince, ought to take great heede to the time, and to the windlike variation of Fortune; and ought to have knowledge, to serve himselfe H with a vice, for his profit and advantage, vvhen time requireth it: O­thervvise if hee alwaies follovv vertue, and that vvhich is good, there are seasons so contrarie to it, by the chance of Fortune, that inconti­nent, hee vvill fall into ruine.

BEcause a Prince that hath beene nourished in vertue, as he reades Machiavell, might make some difficultie to beleeve him, and to esteeme that it should evill become him, altogether to despoile himselfe of vertue, to put on vice: For this cause, Machiavell (de­sirous I to resolve this doubt) sheweth heere that it is not uncome­ly for a prince, to change from vertue into vice: And to encourage him to make this change, he saith, That sometimes, such a time and season may hap­pen, that it is necessarie for a prince, to know how to use a vice, to serve fortunes turne, which commonly oppugneth vertue: Yet there is no man, of so small judge­ment, that sees not with his eies, that this doctrine containeth two points, altoge­ther wicked. One to say it is necessarie to a prince, for the conservation of his estate, to use vice: The other to approve and allow lightnesse and inconstancie of man­ners, by changing good into evill: As for the first point, wee have heeretofore am­plie handled it, where we have shewed, That good princes, which were given to ver­tue, K have alwaies prospered in their estates: but contrary, the wicked, which excee­ded in vices, have alwaies had hard fortunes and evill haps in their kingdomes, and have come to unluckie ends: As for the other point Inconstancie, we must heere touch, in few words. Constancie is a compa­nion of all other ver­tues.

I will then presuppose, that Constancie is a qualitie, which ordinatilie accom­panieth all other vertues: yea it is as it were of their substance and nature: There­fore [Page 295] is Iustice defined, A constant will to yeeld to every man, that which belongeth A unto him: And Temperance may bee also defined, A constant moderation to use well all things: and Prudence, A constant provision in all affaires, and so of all other vertues: Heereupon I make this illation, Since constancie is of the nature and sub­stance of all vertues, and as it were mixed amongst them, that thereof it followeth, That hee which is inconstant, can have no vertue in him, for vertue goes not with­out Constancie: Machiavell also (as beastly as hee is) so understood this: for by degrees going about to leade a prince, and all them, which follow his doctrine, to a soveraigne wickednesse (as philosophers leade men to a soveraigne good) he hath considered, that he must make for his foundation, Inconstancie: For an incon­stant man disposed to turne with all windes, can never bee but full of all sorts of vi­ces, B and voide of all vertue: Because in vertue there can fall out no change nor va­riation, since all vertues doe accord and agree amongst themselves: But amongst vices, there may be changes, inconstancies, & variations, because often they are con­trary, and doe hold the places of extreames: As for example: Avarice and Prodiga­litie are contrary vices, as also are Temeritie and Cowardise, Ignorance and maliti­ous subtiltie, Crueltie & Dissolute lenitie, Ambition, and the Despight of Honour, and so of other vices: Inconstancie then may well pearch amongst vices, flitting and moving from one to another: But amongst vertues, she can finde no place, because as I have said, they all naturally so hold on Constancie, that without it they cannot bee vertues. Machiavell then was not any thing deceived, when thinking to leade a C prince, unto a soveraigntie of wickednesse, hee furnisheth him with inconstancie and mutabilitie as the windes: for as soone as the prince shall cloth himselfe with Pro­theus garments, and that hee hath no hold nor certitude of his word, nor in his actions, men may well say, that hee is abandoned of phisitions, and his maladie is incurable, and that in all vices, hee hath taken the nature of the Camoelion. At the hands of such a prince which is inconstant, variable in his word, mutable in actions and commands, there is nothing to be hoped for, but evill, disorder, and confusion.

How much more notable and worthie to bee engraved in princes hearts, is that Titus Livius lib. 6. Dec. 3 sentence of Scipio the Affrican: That they are vanquishers, which being vanquished, doe give place vnto Fortune: But the better to understand this, I will set downe the D occasion of this notable speach. After by an evill hap of warre, Scipio his father and uncle were overthrowne, with the most part of their armie in Spaine, the day being come, whereupon they elected their magistrates at Rome; none durst hazard him­selfe, to demand the government of Spaine, for evill luck which happened to the two brothers Scipioes: Heereat the Romane people, beeing very sad and sorrowfull, cast their eies upon the great men of the citie, to see if any of their hearts would a­rise, to demand the government of Spaine: and because none did it, they esteemed the affaires of the common weale, to bee in a deplored and desperate estate: The a­bove said yong lord Scipio (who after was called the Affrican, of the age onely of two and twentie yeeres) arose and demanded of the Romane people, the said govern­ment E of Spaine; shewing by a grave oration, full of magnanimitie, and assured con­stancie, That his carriage should be good, and that they needed not feare, that in re­gard of his yong age, there should bee found in him any temeritie; for he would doe nothing but by good counsell: And although the name of the Scipioes might seeme unluckie, in regard that his father & unckle, had ben vanquished & slaine in Spaine, that notwithstanding hee doubted not, but to turne the chance of Fortune: Briefely [Page 296] by a great and favourable consent of all the people, hee was chosen governour of F Spaine, and generall captaine of the Romane armie: As soone as hee was in this estate well assured of his vertues, hee began to speake to every one, with such a ma­jestie and constancie, as all men became fully resolved that hee would well acquite himselfe of this charge, to the honour and benefit of the common weale: After be­ing in Spaine, hee convocated the old bands, which remained after the defeating of his father and unckle, and used unto them good words & reasons, giving them thanks for the fidelitie, they had borne to his diseased father and unckle, and that ioyfullie they had received him, for their captaine generall, although hee was yong of age, for the good hope they had of him, which was of the race of their dead captaines, and that hee would so well performe his dutie, that they should truely know, that he was of the race of their dead captaines: The publike Fortune (said hee) of the Romane G common weale and your vertue, must needes keepe us from all despaire of our af­faires: For this good luck, hath ever beene fatally given us, being vanquished in our great warres, yet ever notwithstanding to remaine victors, by resisting by constancie and vertue, all malignitie of Fortune.

The same Scipio another time (but long after) speaking to Zeusis and Antipa­ter, Titus Livius lib. 7. Dec. 4. embassadors of the king Antiochus, which demanded peace of him, after he had beene vanquished, used these words full of gravitie and wisedome: The peace (saith hee) which you demand now that your are vanquished, wee agree unto you, with like conditions as you offered before our victory: For in all fortune, good or evill, we have Constancie stirreth not for prospe­ritie or ad­versitie. alwaies the same courages; neither can prosperitie exalt us, nor adversitie humble us H too much: And if you your selves were not good witnesses thereof, I would aledge no other testimonie, then that of Anniball, who is in your army: Therefore make knowne unto the king your master, that wee accord unto him, the same peace which wee offered him before our victorie. Heere may you see, how constant the Romanes were in vertue, without any change either of prosperitie, or adversitie. Heere is no Machiavelizing, wee must not goe to the schoole of Scipio, nor of the ancient Ro­manes, nor of any other valiant princes, to learne Machiavells doctrine, to have an unconstant and mutable courage, to change and to turne as the winde: This must bee learned in the schoole of a sort of Italian Machiavelists, resembling harlots which love every man, yet love no person, and which with doubtfull and unstayed I mindes, runne heere and there, like Tops.

Wee commonly say, That the king is the lively law of his subjects, and that the prince ought to serve for a rule to his people: but is it not a ridiculous thing▪ to say, That the law ought to bee a thing unconstant and mutable with every winde? Nay contrarie, the law ought to bee firme, constant, permanent, inviolable, and inviola­bly observed, else it is no law: And therefore amongst all mortall men, the prince is hee, which ought to bee most constant and firme, to shew, that hee is the true and lively law of his people and subjects, unto whom his carriage and actions, ought to serve for a rule. A prince then must bee of one word, and to take heede, that he bee Constancie of a princē wherein it ought to be employed. not mutable nor double of his promises, and that hee alwaies have a magnanimous K and generous courage, tending to vertue, and the publike good of his kingdome, & principallity, and that no trouble nor adversitie, may abate that generositie and con­stancie of courage; nor any prosperitie, make him swell with pride, whereby to draw him from vertue: In a constant course, hee must shew himselfe grave and clement, & these two should be in him with a temperature: such gravitie is requisit for the ma­jestie [Page 297] of his calling, with such clemencie and affabilitie, as his subjects desire in him: A In all his actions hee must alwaies shew himselfe to bee one man, loving and amia­bly entertaining men of vertue, and of service, and alwaies as constantly rejecting vicious people, flatterers, lyers, and other like, from which hee can never draw out good services: Finally, hee ought to bee constant in retaining his good friends and servants, and not to take a sinister opinion of them, without great and apparent cau­ses, and in all things to governe himselfe constantly, by good counsell, and to bee master of himselfe, that is to say, of his affections and opinions, for to direct them alwaies to good and sage counsell, such as were those great Romane monarches, Augustus Caesar, Vespasian Traian, Adrian, the Antonines, Alexander Severus, Constantine the Great, Theodosius, and other like: Such before them, were the great B Darius, king of the Persians and Medes, conquerour of the monarchie of Affrica; the great king Sirus, and Alexander the Great: Such also were the ancient kings of France; the great Cloius, the generous Charlemaigne. the good S. Lewis, Philip August the conquerour, Charles le Sage, Charles the seventh, the victorious Lewis the twelfth, father of the people, Francis the great restorer of letters, Henry the se­cond le Debonaire, and many others: These bee they that a prince must propose to imitate, not such of no account, as deserves not a place amongst princes, such as Agathocles a potters sonne, and usurper of the Sicilian tyrannie; or Oliver de Ferme, a barbarous and most cruell souldiour, who massacred his owne parents & friends, to usurpe the tyrannie of the place of his nativitie; or that Caesar Borgia the Popes C bastard, full of all disloyaltie, crueltie, inconstancie, and other vices, and farre from all Royall vertues, which Machiavell proposeth for patternes to bee imitated of princes. Reasonlesse creatures themselves, doe they not shew that a prince ought to bee constant, to maintaine his subjects in peace and tranquilitie, without stirs or motions? The king of honnie Bees, is hee not alwaies resident and abiding in his hive with constancie, to keepe his little subjects in tranquilitie? And whensoever a­mongst these small creatures, there are found some unconstant and straying kings, which cannot abide in their hives, and within the circuit and limits of their power, do we not see that they bring all their little people out of order? For straight as their king begins to stirre and goe out, his subjects remoove withall; so that oftentimes by D the remooving of the king, hee himselfe is lost, with all the troupe of his little sub­jects, by precipitation & headlong casting himselfe, by his inconstancie, into marri­shes & pooles, where, both himselfe and his are lost: Set princes then, and all other ment learne of these pettie creatures, how necessary Constancie is unto them, and that they beeing unconstant and variable (as Machiavell teacheth them) they can not faile but destroy and ruinate themselves and others.

Heereupon is very woorthie to be noted, that which Euripides saith, That a good and vertuous man never changeth his manners, for the change of either aire or countrie, or either for prosperitie or adversitie: his verses englished are these.

An evill ground under an heaven sirene, E
good store of Corne oft times doth bring wee see:
Eurip. in He­ [...]ba.
Good ground also, with a sharp aire I weene,
bad store of fruit produceth unto thee:
Yet by the heavens a good man or an ill,
his nature change will not for any hap:
[Page 298]
For alwaies wicked, wicked prooveth still, F
and good men, good will prove, for evill clap
In good mens hearts theres no adversitie,
in life of his can breede diversitie.

And assuredly this facion of the Machiavellists, with each wind to change man­ners, cannot bee found any way good, by good and vertuous men, who have their hearts in a good place; no more than they can approve the riming verses, which the Machiavellists have alwaies in their mouths.

Cum fueris Romae Romano vivito more, G
Cum fueris alibi vivito sicut ibi.

That is to say,

When thou at Rome, a Romane life then must thou lead,
when other where, doe as they doe, in the other stead.

For these manners are proper to the Chamaelion, which take all coulours of the place where hee is, and of the Polypus, which alwaies seemes to bee of the coulour of the earth, whereupon it shineth: But this is not convenient nor comely for a good man, who ought alwaies to bee constant in vertue, without changing or va­rying, no not though the heavens should fall upon him: But because the Poet Ho­race, H very elegantly describeth what kind of person a constant man ought to bee, I will set it downe, as an end of this Maxime.

So constant is a good man alwaies in his life,
that hee stirres not for all the peoples rage and strife:
Hor. lib. 3. Carm. Ode 3.
The tyrants fierce cannot move him, nor boistrous winde
which all the sea doth turne: nor thunder claps I finde:
His constant vertue cannot alter any way,
No though the heavens should fall upon his head, I say
No feare could touch his hautie heart, by night or day. I

26. Maxime.

‘Illiberality is commendable in a prince, and the reputation of a mechanique K or handicrafts man, is a dishonour without evill will.’

IF the prince (saith he) vvill bee liberall, incontinent hee impove­risheth Cap. 8. & 16. Of a prince. himselfe, and beeing poore shall bee despised of every [Page 299] man: And if hee will repaire and help his poverty, by pilling his sub­iects, A hee shall make himselfe hated of them, and shall bee reputed and handled as a tyrant: But contrarie being covetous, he shall be iudged puissant, and having wherewith to furnish any affaire, vvhen it happe­neth, hee shall bee honoured and esteemed: And if the reputation of a mechanicke or illiberall person, be dispersed of him, this cannot bee hurtfull unto him, seeing by force hee seekes nothing at his subiects hands: Yet a prince may vvell bee prodigall of anothers good, as of booties, acquired by vvar, as Cyrus, Alexander, & Caesar, but of his own hee ought to bee an houlder, and illiberall: For there is nothing that B more consumeth it selfe, than largenesse and freenesse of giving, which by the practising thereof, leeseth the meanes to be practised. In our time, vve have seene no great matters effected, but by such men as had the reputation to bee covetous, all others have come to nothing. Pope Iulius vvas liberall, till hee obtained the Popedome, but as soone as hee had gotten it, hee forsooke that trade, to the end to make warre upon the king of France, Lewis the twelfth, as hee, did. The king of Spaine likewise, hee understood that king Ferdinand (grandfather of C the emperour Charles the fifth) had not so happely atchived so ma­ny great enterprises, if hee had affected to bee esteemed liberall.

IN my opinion, this Maxime should not please courtiers, ei­ther Machiavellists or others, which ever like best, that a prince bee not onely liberall, but rather profuse and prodigall, so farre are they from opinion that hee should bee covetous: But cer­tainely as illiberalitie and covetousnesse is damnable, and no way beseeming a prince, so also is profusion and prodigalitie: D But most praiseable it is, that he hould a course betweene both, and that hee bee liberall, acknowledging the services which is done him, and to use bountefulnesse toward good and vertuous people, and for the advancement of the commonwealth: For that is true liberalitie, when men employ to good uses the goods and gifts dispended, and not when they employ them to evill uses: But to shew how liberalitie ought to be exercised in a prince, wee will first speake of Illiberalitie and prodigalitie his two extreames.

As for Covetousnes, which Machiavell houlds to bee covenable for a prince, certaine it is, that there is nothing in the world which makes him more contemp­tible Covetous­nesse cause of a princes ruine, and despighted than it doth: for of it selfe it is odious in all men (because it is E filthie and mechanicall) but especially in princes, which as they are constituted in a more ample and opulent fortune, than other men are, ought also to shew them­selves more liberall, and further removed from Illiberalitie and Covetousnes. The emperour Galba, otherwise a good and sage prince, but suffering himselfe to bee governed by some about him, which were rapinous and covetous, hee himselfe al­so Tacit. lib. 17 Annales. Dio. in Galba being too hard to his souldiers, thus destroyed and defiled all his vertues: But [Page 300] that more is, this his covetousnesse and the rapines of his officers, cost him his life, F brought him into contempt, and after, to bee slaine of his souldiers. The emperour Pertinax was good and one of the most wise and moderatest princes, that ever was, Dion & Cap. in Perti. and who a man might say, to bee as it were irreprehensible, and a very father of the people (hee alwaies so studied every way to comfort his subjects) but he was so spot­ted and defiled with that vice of covetousnesse, that hee thereby became hated and contemned of his men of warre, so that they slew him. The emperor Mauricius was Pomp & Laetus in Mauritio & Pho [...]a. a very niggard, yea so great was his covetousnesse, that hee delighted in nothing, but heaping up of treasures, and would spend nothing: whereby every man tooke occa­sion to blame and despise him: The great store of treasure which he had, made Pho­cas his lieutenant (who otherwise was a man of no account & a coward, but as cove­tous G as his master) to sley him, and to obtain the empire: But yet Phocas being come to the empire, continued in his covetousnesse more than ever was found in Mauri­cius his predecessor, and respected nothing but heaping up of treasures, by rapines and extorcions, without any care of government of his empire: This miserable cove­tousnesse & carefulnesse of this traitor Phocas, was the cause of his owne ruine, & the entier dissipation of the Roman empire: For during his government there were cut off from the Roman empire, Germanie, Gaul, Spaine, the most part of Italie, & Sla­vonia, and Mesia, the most part of Affrick, Armenia, Arabia, Macedonia, Thracia, A­siria, Mesopotamia, Aegypt, and many other countries; wherof some cut themselves from the empire, and other were occupied by the king of Persia, and other poten­tates, H which was an exceeding great evill hap, and very memorable, that thus the Romane empire should fall in pieces, by meanes of this emperours covetousnesse.

This happened not alone to Phocas, to have lost his domination, by the meanes of his covetousnesse; for the like fell to king Perseus of Macedonie: This king hav­ing Titus Livius lib. 4. Dec. 5. enterprised warre upon the Romanes, gathered together great store of treasures, but when it came to bee distributed, to have souldiers, hee shewed himselfe so hold­ing and covetous as was possible: For having caused to come from the Gaulois, ve­ry great succours into his countrie, by the covenant of a certaine summe of mony, which hee promised them; yet refused to deliver them silver when they came, excu­sing himselfe amongst his people, that it was a dangerous thing, to receive so great a I number of strangers in his countrie, for fewer would serve him: Briefely saith Titus Livius, hee did but find meanes, to bring all those treasures into the Romanes hands, for their bootie: for the Gaulois seeing themselves thus mocked by this king, re­turned, spoiling all his countrey as they passed: and after, the Romanes vanquished Perseus, and got all his treasures, which hee lost with his crowne, and his life, and this fell unto him, by his covetousnesse.

Marcus Crassus a Romane citizen (being worth 350000 crownes of annuall reve­new) Ioseph. Antiq lib. 14. cap. 8. & 13. Pluta. in Crasso. was yet so covetous, that seeing Lucullus, had enriched himselfe by the Le­vant warre, never ceased till he had obtained charge and commission to make warre upon the Parthians: And that which incited him, most to purchase that charge, was, K that hee had heard say, that Pompeius (who had made warre there not long before) had had goodly meanes to heape up great treasures, if he had listed, as hee might have pilled the temple of Ierusalem, where the treasures of sacred vessels, and of the widdowes, and orphants, mounted to the summe of two thousand Talents, or five millions of Crownes: So Crassus resolved to rob that temple, to redouble his riches, and therein not to bee so scrupulous, as Pompey had beene: And so indeede Crassus [Page 301] passing by Hierusalem against the Parthians, pilled the temple, and to himselfe ap­propriated A all that treasure, which partly was the goods and substance of poore wid­dowes and orphants: Crassus going on, came into Armenia, and from thence came to the Parthians, where he gave battaile to king Herodes, or rather to Surena his lieu­tenant: but Crassus losing the battaile (where his onely sonne was slaine) escaped on foot, thinking to save himselfe, which he could not doe, but in the end was overtaken and slaine, and his head carried to Herodes, who with it served himselfe in a play of a Tragoedie, which was plaied before him, where they talked of an hunter which had slaine a great savage beast. Here may you see the tragicall end of this insatiable co­vetous wretch Crassus, who was justly and soone punished, for his great and horrible sacriledge which he had committed in the holy temple of Hierusalem. B

By these examples then it is evidently seene, That Covetousnesse is customably the cause of the ruine of such princes and great lords as are infected therewith: so farre is it off, that it is profitable, as Machiavell saith: Yet true it is, that there have been some (but very few) which being covetous, notwithstanding have not been ru­inated by that vice; as the emperour Vespasian: but the reason wherefore the cove­tousnesse of Vespasian was not cause of his destruction, is for that he exercised it not Dion. in Ves­pasi. cap. 16, 17. else but upon his rapinous magistrates, and because hee employed on good uses, and for the utilitie of the publicke good, such money as his avarice heaped up, yea, he even practised great liberalities towards good people; and ruinated cities, to re­build them. Surely, if those reasons be well considered, they will serve Vespasian for a C lowable excuse, if it so be that a vice can be any thing excused: For first there was no great harme, that he should draw water from such spunges (as such magistrates were) which had sucked and drunke up the substance of the people, and to cause them to regorge and cast up the booties whereof they were full: And (in my opinion) there were no harme if they did the like at this day; for what harme is there to take from a theefe? The other excuse is yet more considerable, that Vespasian employed not upon his owne pleasures and delights, the silver which his covetousnesse had colle­cted, but bestowed it on good uses for the good of the commonwealth. And certain­ly, there is nothing that more troubles subjects, which pay tributes, than when they see, that the prince spendeth evill, the silver which is levied upon them, which would D alwaies more liberally furnish them with a crowne, than they would do with a penny, if they saw their money well bestowed. Our king Lewis was herein something like Ve­spasian: for he levied much mony upon his subjects, yea, triple so much as his prede­cessors had done: but he spent it not in his pleasures and delights, nor other disso­lutenesse, nor in practise of liberalitie upon unworthy people, but upon good things, about the affaires of the kingdome: as to buy peace with his neighbors, and to cor­rupt strangers, which might serve therein or in other affaires: Moreover, he did not as the emperour Mauricius, or as king Perseus, which heaped up great treasures, and then durst not touch it: for (as Comines saith) he tooke all, and spent all.

Princes then which levie money upon their people, are something excusable, E when they employ them upon good uses; and especially, when they have that discre­tion to pill the pillors, and to tansacke theeves and eaters of the poore people, and Profusion cause of ru­ine in a prince. Sueto. in Ca­lig. cap. 37, 38, 40, 41. spare other good subjects, which are not of that sort: But such as make great levies upon the people, and doe bestow them evill, they cannot bee any thing excused in their covetousnesse and prodigalitie. The emperour Caius Caligula succeeding Tiberius, found an inestimable treasure, even 67 millions, and 500000 crownes. [Page 302] To calculate this unmeasurable summe after the proportion of 1240000 crownes, F which made 32 Mule loads (as du Bellay saith) which were sent to Fontarabie in the yeare 1529, for king Francis the firsts ransome, it should be found, that the 67 milli­ons of Caligula should make about 1800 Mullet loads, which is an huge and a most admirable treasure: yet did this monster spend all this, in lesse than a yeare: But was this possible, will you say, that so great heapes should be laid out in so litle space? Yea I say: for this brainelesse foole caused houses to bee builded upon the sea, yea, and that should be onely, where men said it was deepest: So that there to make good foundations, he was forced to cast in great heapes of stones, as great as high moun­taines, and so much more, as any thing was impossible, so much rather loved hee to doe it. Moreover, he delighted to bring downe mountaines and rockes, to equall G them with flats and plaines: so in plaines to erect mountaines: & this also must needs be done, even the very day that he commaunded it, upon paine of life: He would al­so cause bathes to be made in waters of very precious sents, he would make prodigall bankets, wherein he would serve excellent pearles and other precious stones, which he would cause to be liquified and dissolved, as they might be drunke: Again, he cau­sed ships to bee made of Liburnian Caedars, whose sternes were all covered with pearles, and within them were builded bathes, galleries, halls, and orchards, and there sitting amongst dauncers and players of instruments, he caused himselfe to be cari­ed in those ships about the coasts of Campania. By these unmeasurable and mon­strous expences, he saw the end of that great treasure (left by Tiberius) in lesse than a H yeare: Hereof came it, that wanting silver, he converted himselfe to rapines, and to lay great and new imposts upon his subjects, yea, tributes upon victuals, upon pro­cesses, upon labourers salaries, upon harlots gaines, upon players gaines, and upon many such like things: and so having againe gathered huge heapes of crownes, up­on a covetous pride, to touch and handle money, hee delighted to walke bare foot, and to tumble upon it: By this meanes (and with crueltie and other vices) he was ha­ted of all the world, and incontinent slaine: And in truth he was inexcusable, for in­venting new and great imposts upon his people, seeing hee so evill employed the money.

The emperour Nero likewise laid great imposts and levies of money upon his I Sueto. in Nero. cap 27. 30 32. Dion in Nerone. subjects, and quashed and made void the Testaments of such as would not make him their heire: As an ingrate person to his prince, he by force took treasures out of tem­ples, and committed infinit other extortions: But how expended he all this money? In making sumptuous bankets, as Caligula did; in giving unmeasurable gifts to flat­terers and bad people, and upon other strange dissolutenesse: He alwaies apparrelled himselfe with exceeding rich & precious habites, yet he never put on garment twice; he played away great summes of money at once: he fished alwaies with golden nets, the cords whereof were knit with purple and scarlet; he never went abroad with lesse than a thousand coaches or litters drawne with Mules, whose shoes were all of silver, all the Mulleters also were gallantly and costly apparrelled: Sabina Poppea, his wife, K caused the coaches wherein she rid; to be drawne with cords, and all other furniture for her mules, of gold: Whensoever shee went abroad, there waited on her 500 shee Asses, which gave milke, and that milke was drawn out every day to make bathes for her to bathe in: Breefely, Nero made so great and riotous expences, that no silver could suffice him: insomuch, as spoiling his provinces of their goods and riches by rapines and imposts, and withall practising great cruelties (for rapine and crueltie [Page 303] are alwaies companions) he brought upon himselfe the hatred of all the world, and A came to a miserable end, as we have above said.

The like happened to the emperour Vitellius, who in a yeare spent in bankets without all measure, nine millions of crownes. Dion saith, That in a vessell served at Dion. in Vi­tel. Sueto. cap. 13. his table, he had so many tongues, braines, and livers of certaine strange and exqui­sit fishes and birds, as cost ten thousand crownes. Suetonius sayth, That his brother bestowed a supper upon him, whereat was served two thousand exquisit fishes, and se­ven thousand exquisit and precious birds, besides all other services. These so exorbi­tant and unreasonable expences, drew him into covetousnesse, rapine, and crueltie which was the cause that he was massacred and slaine, and raigned but a yeare and tenne daies. B

Here might I adde to these, the examples of Domitian, Commodus, Bassianus, and many other Romane emperours, which held of the two extremities of Liberalitie, namely, Covetousnesse and Prodigalitie, using Covetousnesse and rapine, to heape up silver, and Profusion to spend them; all which had the like end, as Nero, Caligula, and Vitellius had: But hereby is sufficiently shewed in those examples, the contrarie of the Maxime, which Machiavell saith is true, and that a prince which is covetous and hard, cannot prosper, but especially, when he naughtily bestoweth the treasures and money which he heapeth up. Now there remaineth to shew, That Liberalitie is profitable and necessarie for a prince, when he applieth it to good uses.

When Alexander the Great departed from Macedonie to goe to the conquest Plutarch. in Alexand. of Asia, hee caused all the captaines of his armie to appeare before him: At their C comming, he distributed unto them almost all the revenue of his kingdome, inso­much, as he left to himselfe almost nothing: Amongst them, one of the said cap­taines, called Perdicas, said unto him: What then will you (Sir) keepe for your selfe? Even Hope, answered Alexander: We then shall have our part thereof (replied Per­dicas) since we goe with you. Thus Perdicas and certaine other also, refused the gifts which their king offered them, and were as thankfull, as if they had accepted them: So that they accompanied him in his voyage of Asia, full of good will, to serve him, as they did: For he was so well served of these valiant Macedonians, his subjects, that with them he conquered almost al Asia: so the Liberalitie of Alexander was very pro­fitable D unto him.

The ancient Romanes had this custome, ordinarily to encrease the seignories and Titus Livius lib 7. Dec. 4. Plutarch. in Caton. dominations of the kings their allies, as they did to Massinissa, king of Numidia, un­to whom they gave a great part of the kingdome of Syphax his neighbor, and some part of the countrey of the Carthaginians, after they had vanquished Syphax and the Carthaginians: as also they did to Eumenes, king of Pergamus, in Asia, unto whom they gave all they conquered upon king Antiochus from beyond the mount Tau­rus, which came to more than foure times so much as all Eumenes his kingdome. They also practised great Liberalities towards Ptolomeus, king of Cyprus; towards Attalus, another king of Pergamus; towards Hiero king of Sicilie, and many others. And what profit got they by all this: even this, that in the end all the countries and E kingdomes fell into the Romans hands, either by succession and testamentarie ordi­nance of those kings, or by the will of the people, or otherwise. And this reputation of Liberalitie, which the Romans acquired, was the cause, that the kings and poten­tates of the world affected and so greatly desired their amitie and alliance. Silla, Ma­rius his lieutenant, making warre upon king Iugurtha, persuaded Bocchus, king of Salust. de bel­lo. [Page 304] Mauritania, to take part with the Romanes against Iugurtha, because (saith hee) the F Romanes are never wearie with vanquishing by beneficence, but doe alwaies enrich their friends and allies.

The king Cotis of Thrace having promised the Romanes, that he would proove their good and faithfull friend, and to that effect having delivered them hostages, notwithstanding they aided king Perseus of Macedonie against the Romanes, when after by warre king Perseus was vanquished, wherin Bitis the said king Cotis his sonne was taken prisoner, this king would have ransomed his sonne, and withall made cer­taine frivolous excuses: ‘The Senate made him this worthie answere, That the Ro­manes knew very certainely, that hee had preferred the good grace and favour of Perseus before their amitie, but that therefore they would not cease to give him his G sonne and his hostages, because the benefits of the Romane people are free: inso­much, as they better love to leave the price and the recompence within the hearts of such as receive their said benefits, than to be readie to receive prompt and quicke satisfaction.’

Augustus Caesar seeing himselfe have many enemies, which he had gotten by ci­vile Dion. in Au­gust. warres, he knew not whether he should put them all to death, or what hee should doe: For he on the one side considered, that if he caused all to die, then the world would thinke, that either he was entring into the butcherie of a civile warre, or els to usurpe a tyrannie: and on the other side he feared, that some mischeefe would hap­pen unto him, if he suffered them to live. The abovesaid Livia his wife (which was a H good and sage ladie) shewed him, that he ought to gaine his enemies, which he fea­red, by liberalitie and beneficence: Hee followed this counsell, and begun with one Cornelius the nephew of Pompeius, whom hee advaunced into the office of Consull, and in like sort to others, which he tooke to be his enemies, he practised beneficence and bountifulnesse, in such sort, as he gained all their hearts. But because the remon­strance which Livia made to Augustus, is very memorable, I will here summarily re­cite it: ‘I am very sorrowfull (my most deare lord and spouse) to see you thus greeved and tormented in your spirit, so that your sleepe is taken from you: I am not igno­rant, that you have great occasions, because of many enemies, which you will have still, feeling in themselves the deaths of their friends and parents, which you have I caused to die during those civill wars; & withall, that a prince cannot so well governe, but there will be alwaies mailcontents and complainers. There is this moreover, that this change of estate which you have brought into the commonweale, by reducing it into a monarchie, makes, that a man cannot well assure himselfe of such as they esteeme to be their friends: yet I beseech you (my good lord) to excuse me, if I a sim­ple woman take that hardinesse to tel you my advice upon this matter: which is, that I thinke there is nothing impossible to represse by soft and gentle meanes: for the natures of such as are enclined to do evill, are sooner subdued and corrected by using clemencie and beneficence towards them, than severitie: For princes which are courteous and mercifull, make themselves not onely agreeable and honourable to K them upon whom they bestow mercie, but also towards all others. And by contrary, such as are inexorable, and will abate nothing of their rigour, are hated and blamed not only of them, towards whom he shewes himselfe such, but of all others also. See you not (my good lord) that either never or very selde physicians come to cut the sicke members of the bodie, but onely seeke to heale them by soft and gentle mendi­caments? in like sort are maladies of the spirit to be healed: And the gentle medica­ments [Page 305] of the spirit may these well be called, Affabilitie and Soft words of princes to­wards A every one, his Clemencie and placabilitie, his Mercie and debonairetie, not towards wicked and bad persons, which make an occupation to do evill, but towards such as have offended by youth, imprudencie, ignorance, by chance, by constraint, or which have some just excuse. It is also a very requisit thing in a prince, not only to do no wrong to any person, but also to be reputed such a man as will never do wrong to any man; because that is the meane to have the amitie and benevolence of men, which a prince can never obtaine, unlesse he doe persuade them, that he will do well to the good, and that hee will doe wrong to none: For feare may well bee acquired with force, but amitie cannot bee obtained but by persuasion: so that if it please you (my lord) to use benefits and liberalitie towards such as you esteeme your enemies, B and towards such as feare, you will doe them wrong, you shall easily gaine them and others from henceforth for your friends.’ This remonstrance of Livia was the cause that Augustus let loose and set at liberrie all them which were accused to have en­terprised any thing against him, satisfying himself with the admonishments he gave them, and besides gave great goods and benefits unto some of them, so that as well those as other of his enemies became his friends and good subjects. Behold heere what good came to Augustus by his beneficence and liberalitie.

The emperour Marcus Antonine feared nothing more than the reputation of an hard and covetous man, and alwayes wished and desired, that such a spot of infa­mie Dion. in Marco. might never bee imposed upon him: And indeede, all his carriage and actions C were such, that none could impute unto him any spot of Covetousnesse, but al Libe­ralitie worthie of a good prince: for first hee established publicke professours of all sciences in the towne of Athens, unto which he gave great wages, which prooved a most profitable act to the commonweale, woorthie of such a prince: and this was partly the cause, that in his time there was so great store of learned people in all manner of sciences: insomuch, as the time of his kingdome was and hath ben since called the golden world. In our time, king Francis the first of happie memorie, did imitate the example of this great and wise emperour, establishing publicke lectures at great wages in the Vniversitie of Paris, a thing wherof his memorie hath ben and shall be more celebrated through the world, than for so many great warres as hee va­liantly D sustained and demeaned, during his raigne. Secondly, the emperour Anto­nine forgave the people all the fiscall debts and arrerages which they ought him, by scedules, obligations, or otherwise for fiftie yeares before, which was an huge and un­speakable liberalitie: But he did this to take away all meanes & matter, from all offi­cers and fiscall procurators, of molesting and troubling his subjects afterward with researches and calling on of old debts. Thirdly, hee never laid impost or extraordi­narie exaction upon his people, but handled them in all kindnesse and generositie: He never made profuse and superfluous expences, but held an estate both at home and in the court, sober and full of frugalitie: And finally, to shew how he delighted in liberalitie, he caused a temple to be builded to Beneficence. E

Behold here a true patterne, after which princes should conforme themselves to know how to practise that goodly vertue, Liberalitie: And very notable is that point that that good emperour Antonine held the estate of his house ruled by frugalitie and sobrietie, and farre from the straunge profusions of those monsters, Caligula, Nero, and Vitellius: for he considered, that it were much better to employ for the publicke wealth of his empire; the revenues and money therof, than in riotousnesse [Page 306] and vanities; and that such unmeasurable profusion constraineth a prince to fall to F rapines, and to deale evill with their subjects, because (as the common proverb saith) Vnmeasurable largesse hath no bottome. Therefore did that great emperour Traian Dion in Tra­iano. Lampr. in Alex. Spar in Andria. also hould his estate soberly governed, and hee maintained no unprofitable persons in his service. No more did the emperour Severus, who would not suffer in any offi­ces any persons to be placed, which were not necessarie: They had also good sallaries and rewards of him, yea, he would often rebuke them, for not demaunding gifts of him: And wherefore (saith he) wilt thou, that I should be thy debter, seeing thou as­kest me nothing. Adrian also had this propertie, that hee gave great gifts unto his good friends and servants, and made them rich, before they demaunded any thing: And above all, hee was liberall towards professors of letters, and learned men, which he enriched: but he much hated such as by evill meanes became rich, and generally G all good emperours were adorned with the vertues of liberalitie and munificence, which they practised with such moderation and prudence, that they were never spot­ted, neither with Machiavels Covetousnesse, nor his Prodigalitie: And therefore they flourished and prospered during their raignes, and left after them a perpetuall memorie to posteritie of their vertues and praises.

Our kings of Fraunce, as Clovis, Charlemaigne, Lewis the piteous his sonne, Ro­bert, Henry the first, Lewis le Gros, Lewis the eight, S. Lewis, and many others, were very liberall, but they exercised their liberalitie and principalitie upon the Church and Churchmen, which they but too much enriched. Yet wee reade, that Charle­maigne was also very liberall towards learned men, and that he spent much in foun­ding H and maintaining the Vniversitie of Paris. And a man may generally marke in our kings of Fraunce, a Christian liberalitie, which they have alwayes had, that is, That they have been great Almoniers, exercising their liberalitie upon poore peo­ple, which is an exercise of that vertue, exceeding woorthie of a Christian prince, which he should never forget.

By this abovesaid, I hope the Maxime of Machiavell is sufficiently confuted, and that it evidently appeareth by our examples and reasons, That Covetousnesse is domageable and dishonourable to a prince, as also is his contrarie profusion, and that Liberalitie is profitable and honourable unto him: And as for the reasons which I Machiavell alledgeth, they are foolish and false, as his Maxime: For to say, That a rich prince shall be esteemed puissant, because he hath great treasures, that reason dooth evill conclude. King Perseus of Macedonie (of whome wee have spoken) had The power of a prince lieth not in treasures. great treasures, yet left he not to be esteemed a king pusillanimous and of small va­lour, and such was his reputation in his owne countrey, and amongst his owne sub­jects. Crassus also was knowne to be more richer than Pompeius; but he was not estee­med so valiant nor so good a man, neither in his life had hee the tenth part of Pom­peies honours. Mauricius and Phocas Romane emperours, by their covetousnesse heaped up great treasures; but were they therefore esteemed puissant and valiant? nay contrarie they were esteemed cowards, and in the catalogue of such emperours K as held the most abject and infamous places.

But I pray you let us come to the reason. When a prince hath the fame to bee a great treasurer, doth he not give his neighbours occasion to seeke meanes to enter­prise upon him to obtain those treasures? Wherfore is it, that the Venetians (which if they list, might bee the greatest treasurers of the world) have made a law amongst De Con. l. b. 2. cap. 21. them, to have no treasure in their commonwealth, other than of armes? It is because [Page 307] they know well (as they be wise) that if they heape up treasures in money, they shall A but prepare a bait to draw rheir neighbours on to make warre upon them: but warres come too soone, and under the pretext of more occasions than we would, therefore we need no baits to draw it upon us. It is not then best for a prince to bee reputed a man full of treasures and silver, as Machiavell thinketh: for money of it selfe can­not but serve us for a bait to attract and draw upon us them which are hungry and desirous of it. And although commonly, money is thought to be the sinewes of war, yet are they not so necessarily required, that without money warre cannot bee made. I will not here alledge the poore Hugonet souldiors, which most commonly warred without wages: but I will onely alledge the militarie estate which was in the Roman empire in the emperour Valentinians time, and since: For in that time the militarie B art was so policied, that every souldior tooke for a moneth so much bread, so much wine, so much larde, and so much of other necessarie things: His habites also were new from tearmeto tearme, and all other things necessarie, so that he touched either none or very little money, yet had he all that he wanted. And indeede, money serves but for commutation: for men cannot eat it, nor apparrell themselves with it, nor if he be sicke, can it heale him: Wherefore then serves it? For a prompt, quicke, and ea­sie commutation: For if you have money, you straight have whatsoever you neede: If then by other meanes and policie order be taken, that a souldior have all he needs (as was done in Valentinians time, and others) it will be found, that money makes not a prince puissant. Moreover, I doe confesse, that it is certaine, that in the militarie po­licie C which we have at this day, which is, that a souldior shall receive in money all he needeth, that money is very necessarie, and that without it a man can doe no great thing, and that they are as sinewes, or as the maintenance of the sinewes of warre, but yet by good husbandrie a prince may have sufficient of it, and without Cove­tousnesse.

As for that which Machiavell makes no account of, that a prince bee reputed to be a Mechanique, I leave it to them to thinke which have, I will not say, the heart of a prince, but onely of a simple gentleman, that hath honour but in a little recom­mendation, if they would not bee greeved to bee reputed a mechanique person. I know well, that the nobilitie of Italie, which more commonly trade and deale with D marchandize, than with armes, care not for that name of a mechanique, so they may get money: But the gentlemen of Fraunce, of Almaigne, of England, and of other countries of Christendome, are not of the humor of that mechanique nobi­litie, neither would they for any thing in the world be so reputed, as Machiavel would persuade them.

And as for the examples which Machiavell alledgeth of Pope Iulius and of Fer­dinand king of Spaine, which (he said) were covetous, yet effected great matters: I answere him in one word, That it prooveth nothing of that hee saith: for Pope Iulius made no great prowesses not conquests, as every man knoweth: and king Ferdinand in the exploits and enterprises of warres was not covetous, for any thing we reade in E hystories: And if that were true which Machiavell saith of those two, I will oppose alwayes against those two obscure examples, them above alledged, which are farre more illustrious and notable, and by the which I have shewed, that Covetousnesse hath alwayes been pernicious to princes; and Liberalitie without profusion, profita­ble and honourable.

For a resolution then of this matter, I say, That the vice of Ingratitude accompa­nieth [Page 308] ordinarily covetousnesse, and that none can bee covetous and illiberall, unlesse F he will proove ingrate to his friends and good servants, which is one of the greatest vices, wherewith a prince can bee noted: For it is impossible that his affaires can bee well governed, without good and loyall ministers and servants, such as hee can never have, being ingrate: Therefore a prince ought well to ingrave perpetually in his me­morie, the sentence of king Bochus, who said, It was lesse dishonourable, for a prince to bee vanquished by armes, than by munificence: And therefore that good em­perour Salust in bel­lo Iugurth. Titus, whensoever he passed any day, without exercising some liberalitie and beneficence, said to his friends: O my friends, I have lost this day, meaning that that was the chiefe marke, at which a prince should shoot, to wit, Beneficence, and that otherwise hee emploies his time evill. G

27. Maxime. H

‘A prince which will make a straight professiion of a good man, cannot long endure in this world, in the companie of so many other that are so bad.’

MAny (saith Machiavell) have vvritten bookes, to instruct a prince, and to bring him to a perfection in all vertues, as Xeno­phon Cap. 15. Of a prince. did in the institution of Cyrus: There are also many philoso­phers and others, which by their vvritings have formed Ideaes and fi­gures of monarchies and common vveales, whereof there were never I seene the like in the world, because there is a great difference betwixt the manner, that the world liveth in, and that it ought to live: He then that will amuse and stick upon the formes of philosophers, monarchs, and common weales, by dispising that which is done, and praising that vvhich ought to bee done, hee shall sooner learne his owne ruine, than his conservation: Leaving then behinde, all that can bee imagined of a princes perfection, and staying our selves upon that which is true, and subiect to bee practised: By experience I say (saith Master Ni­cholas) K that the prince vvhich vvill maintaine himselfe, ought to learne hovv hee may sometimes not bee good, and so ought to practise it, according to the exigence of his affaires: For if alwaies he will hould a straight profession of a good man, hee cannot long endure in the companie of so many others, which are of no valew.

[Page 309] THis Maxime meriteth no other confutation, than that which resulteth A from the points before handled, for wee have at large de­monstrated, that the truth is cleane contrary, to that which Machi­aveell saith heere, and that princes which have beene good men, have alwaies raigned long and peceably, and have beene firme and assured in their estates: and the wicked contrary, have not raigned long, but have violently beene deposed from their estates: And as for ideaes and formes of perfect monarchs, and commonweales, whereof some philosophers have Patterns to imitate must be perfect. written, they handled not that subject, saying there were any such, but to propose a patterne of imitation for monarchs, and government of commonweales: For when a B man will propose a patterne to imitate, hee must forme it the most perfect, and make it the best hee can; and after, every man, which giveth himselfe to imitate it, must come as nigh it as he can, some more nigh, others lesse: But a prince which pro­poseth to himselfe Machiavells patternes, such as Caesar Borgia, Oliver de Ferme, Agathocles, how can hee doe any good thing, or approch to any good, seeing the patternes hould nothing thereof: Patternes then which men propose to imitate, must bee the best set downe that they can bee, that if in our imitation wee hap to erre, from a perfect image of Vertue, yet we may so so & in some sort expresse it in our manners: But what meanes Machiavell, when hee saith, That men must leave behinde, that which authors have written, of a princes perfection, to draw us unto C that, which is now a daies practised: What is this? but in a word to tell us wee must leave the good precepts of vertue, to abide and stay our selves upon vices, and a ty­rannie: For they which have written of a princes perfection, have set downe nothing which may not well bee practised, and if a prince cannot fully doe and practise all the precepts which are written, hee may at the least practise part of them, one more, another lesse: But wee must not say, that if a prince cannot bee perfect, that there­fore hee must altogether forsake, and cast off all vertue and goodnesse, and take up a tyrannie and vice: For as Horace saith:

Hee that in highest place cannot abide, D
Let not the meanest place him bee denied.

So that it seemes, Machiavell knowes not what hee would say, when hee houlds, That wee must not stay upon that which authors have written of a princes perfecti­on, but upon that which is practised, and in use: For if hee meane, that vice alone is in use, hee then giveth wicked counsell and advice, and if hee will confesse that good and vertue is in use and practise, then will it follow, that wee must not reject that, which is written of a princes perfection, although a man cannot come to the perfectnesse thereof, for alwaies it is good and praiseable, to come as nigh thereun­to as wee can. E

And touching that which Machavell saith, That a prince who is a good man, can not long endure amongst so many others, that valew nothing: I see well that hee meanes, heereby to persuade a prince to apply himselfe to the wicked, and to doe as they doe, and to bee wicked with them which valew nothing: But if Machiavell had well considered, That goodnesse and vertue, are alwaies in price and estimation, yea even with men of no valew, which are constrained to praise that, which they hate: [Page 310] And if hee were resolved (as it is certaine) that subjects doe commonly apply F themselves willinglie to imitate their prince, (Dion witnesseth that in the time of the emperour Antonine the philosopher, many studied philosophie to be like him) hee would never have given this precept to a prince, to accommodate himselfe to the vices which are in facion and use: but contrary, hee would have taught him to follow goodnesse and vertue, to draw his subjects thereunto, and to receive honour and good reputation in the world: But in truth wee neede not mervaile, if Machi­avell hould opinions so farre discrepant from the way of vertue, for that is not the path, whereby hee pretends to guide and conduct a prince; but his way, is that which leadeth to all wickednesse and impietie, as wee have in many places demonstrated.

The ancient Romanes one day, found certaine verses of their prophetesse Sibilla, G where it was said, That the Romanes should alwaies chase out of Italie, every strange enemie, if the mother of the gods were brought to Rome: The Romanes (which were very superstitious in a vaine religion) sent straight embassadors to Delphos, towards the oracle of Apollo, to know where they might finde the mother of the gods: The oracle sent them to king Attalus of Pergamus: Attalus led them into Phrigia, and shewed them an old Image of stone, which in those quarters, they had alwaies called the mother of the gods: The said embassadors, caused that image straight to bee embarked, and brought to Rome, whereof the Senate being adver­tised, it fell in deliberation amongst them, who hee should bee, that at the gates should goe to receive the mother of the gods: and it was concluded, that that must H be the best & most vertuous man in the citie: When then it came in question, who was the best in all the towne; every man (saith Titus Livius) desired the lot might fall upon him, and theere was not any, but he loved better to be elected the best man The title of a good man more estee­med of the Romanes, than to be Consull or Dictator. of the citie, than to bee chosen either Consul or Dictator, or into any other great estate: The election fell upon Scipio Nasica (coosin germane of the Affrican) who was a young man, but a very good man, and the sonne of a good father; who went to receive that old goddesse of stone, mother of the Gods: But I doe demand of you, if those good Romanes, had beene instructed in the doctrine of Machiavell, and had learned of this Maxime, That it is not good to make a straight profession of a good man; would they so much have wished, that this election had fallen upon I them and preferred this title of a good man, before so high dignities of a Consull or Dictator? certainely no: but they which hould contrary to the doctrine of Ma­chiavell, make more estimation of goodnesse and vertue, than of the greatest riches and dignities.

And indeed, there is nothing more certaine, but that it is the goodliest and most honourable title, that a man can possibly have, To bee a good man: And let it not displease great lords, which are imbarked in the highest title of honours of Consta­bles, Marshals, Admirals, Chancelors, Presidents, Knights of the order, Go­vernours, and Lieutenants of the king, and other like great States: for all those titles, without the title of a good man, valew nothing, and K indeed are but smokes to stifle them which have them: But I confesse, that if they have the title of a good man, with these titles, then are they worthie of double honour, and to bee beloved and respected of all the world.

28. Maxime. A

‘Men cannot bee altogether good, nor altogether wicked, neither can they perfectly use crueltie and violence. B’

IOhn Pagolo (saith Machiavell) usurped Peruse (which was Church land) by murdering his cosins and nephewes to come to the seignourie: This vvas a man accomplished in all vices, vvithout conscience, and kept his owne sister: Pope Iulius the eleventh, in Anno 1505 going about to reunite to the Church, such lands as vvere dismembred from it, by the usurpation of many parti­cular lords, tooke his iourney to Peruse, without any armes, accompa­nied of many Cardinals, vvith but a simple guard; yet this traine vvas C garnished with baggage and moovables of valew inestimable: Pagolo vvho knevv vvell, that hee came thither to dispossesse him of his seig­norie, yet had not the courage to sley both him and his Cardinalls, al­though he might easily have done it, and have enriched himselfe with the bootie, but suffered himselfe to bee taken, and carried away by the Pope his enemie: This was not any remorse of conscience, that made Pagolo commit this fault, but it vvas because hee knevv not in a neede to be altogether vvicked: Heereupon I conclude, That men leave to D leese great fortunes and occasions, vvhich happen unto them, because they knew not how (in a neede) to be altogether wicked.

THis Maxime is a true end and scope, whereunto Machiavell would leade a prince, and all such as follow his doctrine; namely to Machiavell teacheth a soveraigne wickednes. be altogether wicked, in all perfection of wickednesse. The degrees to come to this so high and soveraigne wickednesse, have (for the most part) beene alreadie declared: For Machiavell hath shewed, That crueltie, perfidie, impietie, subtiltie or deceit, covetousnesse, and other like (which are the degrees whereby men mount the top of all wicked­nesse) E are very fit and meete for a prince, and that hee ought to bee decored and a­dorned with them: But now complaines hee, that men (although they bee otherwise full of vices) yet they cannot use them so dexteriouslie and handsomely, as that they may mount to the highest, greatest and soveraignest wickednesse: and that it is a great fault and brings unto them great domages in their affaires. I pray you can there bee found amongst the Scithians, Arabians or any other barbarous nation, [Page 312] which live without law or policie, a more detestable and infamous doctrine, than F heere is taught in Machiavells schoole? May not any man see that hee buildeth by his precepts, a true tyrannie? yea that hee useth the like method to teach his sove­raigne wickednesse, that philosophers doe to teach the soveraigne good: For as Ari­stotle, Plato, Cicero, and others which dealt in writing of the soveraigne good, first shewed the vertues and good manners, whereby they must ascend thereunto, as by degrees: so this stinking doctor Machiavell, useth the same manner, teaching a prince all kinds of evill and wickednesse, which may leade to the highest degree and top of all vices, and of all evill.

But I will not long stay in refuting this Maxime, for I thinke I have before so well beaten downe those degrees, whereby hee would have princes ascend to that G height of all wickednesse, that hee that followeth the way which wee have shewed shall not neede to feare mounting thither, but rather not doubt the contrary: Wee have also made appeare by reasons and notable examples, That they which give themselves to the vices of perfidie, impiety, cruelty, & other vices, which Machiavell teacheth, come ordinarily to evill ends: so far is it off to be domageable, That a man cannot bee perfectly wicked, as most impudently hee affirmeth: And as for the ex­ample of Pagolo, which hee alledgeth, it is a strange thing, how this gallant should not attaine to the full top of all wickednesse, since they of his nation, have common­ly their spirits so prompt, and quicke to all evill and corruption: But it is credible, he was some luskish and faint hearted fellow, which wanting no good will to slay the H Pope, onely wanted courage to enterprise and performe it: But some may say that Pagolo feared to doe well, if hee had slaine the Pope Iulius, and therefore hee would not doe it, because hee would not doe good, but onely apply himselfe to evill and v [...]ee, as Machiavell teacheth: And indeede if hee had slaine this Pope, hee had done great good to all Christendome of that time, for he lighted and stirred up warres a­mongst Christian princes, and delighted in nothing so much, as to sow trouble eve­ry where, yea hee vaunted, that hee would doe more with S. Pauls sword, than all his predecessors had done, with S. Peters keies. Pagolo then (who had sworne to the doc­trine of Machiavell, as is to bee presumed) would not bee the cause of so great good, as by slaying that monster, to doe so much good to Christendome: But Machia­vell I found hee did evill, that hee slew not the Pope, and speakes thereof, as a man passionate: for there was never man, a greater enemie to the Pope, than Machia­vell. I therefore doe greatlie mervaile how Papists can esteeme of Machiavell: But indeede they which esteeme so much of him, are not papists, though they say they are; but are a people, which in their hearts, make no care either of God, or of the divell, nor of the Pope, nor of the popedome, no nor of any re­ligion; but are very Atheists, full of impietie, like their master, yet indeed they goe well to Masse, & there is good policie in it; for therein they make to appeare, that they have so well profited in their Machiaveline phi­losophie, K that they are come to the perfection, that their master taught them in this Maxime.

29. Maxime. A

‘Hee that hath alwaies carried the countenance of a good man, and would become wicked to obtaine his desire, ought to colour his change, with B some apparent reason.’

WHen a man desires to change from one qualitie to another (saith Discourse lib. 1. cap. 42. our Florentine) as when hee will become wicked for some cause, having alwaies before carried the countenance of a good man, hee must doe it discreetly, and before seeke occasions (by providing him­selfe in the meane while nevv friends) to leane upon in the place of the ancient, vvhich abandon him: And heerein a great fault was com­mitted by Appius Claudius, who was one of the ten soveraigne poten­tates C of Rome, for hee having alwaies shewed himselfe a lover of the people, humane, kind, communicative, of easie accesse, a good iusticier going after about to usurpe the soveraigne domination of Rome, he too sodainely changed his qualities, into other cleane contrary, tur­ning his roabe, as it had beene from vvhite to blacke, which vvas the cause that the vvorld incontinent discovered his hipocrisie and pour­pensed mallice, and pointed at him vvith their fingers: So could hee not attaine his desseines and purposes, vvhich hee might have had, if D fairely by little and little hee had changed, alwaies seeking some ap­parent occasions, to become cruell, fierce, rigorous, unsociable, and to have provided himselfe friends of like qualities, to maintaine him as is said.

THis Maxime is like that of Renardizing and fox like deceit, wher­of wee have before spoken: For this is a precept, how of a good man to become wicked, and yet the world should not perceive it: And (saith Machiavell) hee must not bee so grosse as at the first E arivall, to change from good to evill, as from white to blacke, be­cause this change may be perceived of the world; but he must pro­ceede unto it, by a cautell and subtiltie, seeking palliations and coulours to hide his change, and to give apparent reason thereof: As if a man will become cruell, he must cover his cruelties, with some appearance of Iustice: if he will become rapinous and a catchpoll, hee must cover his rapines, with some appearance of necessitie and pub­like [Page 314] utilitie: Thus doth he change himselfe by little and little, and so from good shal F he become wicked, and none perceive it: And it is good to bee noted, the compari­son which Machiavell makes of the chaunge and varietie of manners, by the chaunce of colours: For as blacke never takes white well, his contrarie, unlesse first white bee tainted with some other colour, as blew or red: So the chaunge (saith Machiavell) from good to wicked, is never made unto any good purpose, without some pretext and shew, which gives to a man an appearance betwixt good and evill.

Here is a singular precept in the art of wickednesse, To become wicked, and yet the world shall not perceive it: for if the world know it, then it is an ignorance of the art which wills a knowledge, well to dissemble, and that a man should bee apt and fit to G know handsomely, to faine and deale, with his visage and countenance, to deceive men: By joyning then together these two precepts, To be a dissembler, and to be wic­ked, to doe evill, it will follow, that this Maxime is very proper for this art: for it tea­cheth how to doe to become wicked, and not discover himselfe to be so, but alwayes to observe the pretext of dissimulation.

You see then (and he that sees not is very blind of sence and understanding) that this abhominable Florentine persevereth still to teach a prince the art of wickednes: But for so much as before we have disputed against all the kinds thereof, as likewise against hypocrisie and dissimulation, I will speake no more hereof. And as for the example of Appius Claudius, one of the tenne potentates of Rome, which Machi­avell H alledgeth, serves nothing for his purpose: For Appius exercising an office which endured but a yeare, carried himselfe well for that first yeare, which was the cause that he and his companions were continued in their estate another yeare: but with great difficultie obtained they that continuation; for it was as it were a breach of their law to continue an office to any person more than a yeare: Appius seeing, that it should be impossible to obtaine of the Romane people, a continuation for a third yeare, thought it good now to make himselfe feared, by seeking to obtaine his estate by force: and like ynough he had gotten againe his office, had there not happened a warre against the Romanes, which came nigh unto them: and therefore Appius and his companions, could doe no lesse (if it were but to defend themselves) than I levie an armie: but none would obey them, because the time of their offices was ex­pired, and that they acknowledged them no more for lawfull magistrates: so that for want of obedience they were constrained to forsake their offices, & to submit them­selves to the peoples mercie, who set in prison Appius Claudius and Spurius Oppius, where they died, and banished the other eight, and confiscated their goods. The cause then why Appius could not obtaine the tyrannie which hee had enterprised, was not, for that hee changed too suddainely from good to wicked, but because the time of his office being expired, he could not be obeyed: and herein, all the dissi­mulations and foxlike dealings of Machiavell, could have done him no good: for as soone as any mans office was expired at Rome, hee that held it, must come out, were K he good or wicked, because such was the law.

Moreover, this Maxime here, is not onely wicked, but also hard to practise: For very difficult it is, that a man should change from a good man to a wicked, and not bee perceived, though in his actions he use many palliations and dissimulations: For amongst people there are alwayes some one which is not a beast, but (as the pro­verbe is) can know flies in the milke, and which straight can discover the dissimulati­ons [Page 315] of those Machiavelizing Foxes, and can crie, The Fox, that men may take heed A of him.

30. Maxime.

‘A Prince in the time of peace, maintaining discords and partialities B amongst his subiects, may the more easily use them at his pleasure.’

OVr auncestors of Florence (saith Machiavell) especially such Cap. 20. Of a prince. as vvere esteemed the vvisest, have alwaies held this Maxime, That Pistoye must be held in obedience by the means of Partialities: And for that cause they nourished in certaine townes belonging un­to them, discords, the more easily to governe them. The Venetians also, mooved vvith the like opinion, maintained in the townes of their C government, the factions of the Guelfes and Gibelines, that their sub­iects minds being occupied vvith such studies, might have no leisure to thinke upon rebellion: yet a prince, vvhich (as they say) hath any blood in his nailes, vvill not nourish such Partialities in time of warre: For so may they bring him much hurt: But in time of peace he may by such meanes handle his subiects much more easily.

WHensoever the commonwealth is governed by a good prince, who D useth good counsell in the conduction of his affaires, and gets the love of his subjects, it is certaine, that both in time of peace and warre he shall be obeyed alwayes: For the most part of the people will obey him voluntarily and without constraint, some for love, others for feare of his justice, which he shall have well established in his domination. And therefore this Maxime cannot be but domageable and pernitious to a good prince, which be­ing Partialitie pernitious to a prince. practised, alienateth him from the love of his subjects: for if he nourish Partia­lities amongst his subjects, he cannot possibly carrie himselfe so egally towards both parties, but in them both will be jealousie and suspition: insomuch, as each partie will esteeme the other to be more favoured of the prince than they, whereupon hee E will hate his prince, and by that meanes it may come to passe, that the prince shal be hated of both parties, and so both the one and the other shall machinate his ruine, which he can hardly shun, having al their evill wills. And suppose he had but the evill will of the one partie, yet could he not be assured, seeing men are naturally enclined to a desire to ruinate and destroy that which they hate, and that not onely many, but even one alone particular, may well find and encounter meanes to bring to passe his [Page 316] purpose, and to execute an enterprise, as before we have demonstrated by many ex­amples: F Therfore this Maxime cannot but be very pernicious and very perillous for a prince, who wil use it: But it may be a tyrant may make use of it, to hinder a concord of the people, which may proove ruinous and perillous unto him: for when a peo­ple accordeth, a tyrants nailes have no great power upon them, neither can easily in­troduce or practise tyrannicall actions upon a people which is in good concord; because he refuseth the yoke, and denieth obedience unto wicked ordinances and new burthens, and without obedience nothing by him is brought to effect. Therfore Partialitie the founda­tion of ty­rannie. they which meane to introduce a tyrannie into a countrey, doe first cast this founda­tion of Partialitie, as the certainest meane to establish and build a tyrannie: and al­though no tyrannie be ever firme or assured, & that we seldome or never see, tyrants G live long, because all tyrannie comprehendeth violence, and that by nature violent things cannot endure; as also, that God sets in foot and exerciseth his justice upon them, yet for all that, is there not a better nor more expedient meane to establish a tyrannie, than to place and plant a Partialitie amongst the people: And this is the marke and end whereat Machiavell shooteth to establish a tyrannie, as we have be­fore shewed in many places.

It may be Machiavell learned this Maxime of Claudius Appius, who was a man of courage, and very tyrannicall towards the Romane people▪ and if all other Se­natours had been of his humor, assuredly the Senate had usurped a tyrannie in the citie, and changed the Aristocraticall estate into an Oligarchie: but most common­ly, H he remained alone in his opinion: But wee must understand, that at Rome there was tenne Tribunes of the people (which were magistrates established to conserve the liberties and franchises of the meane people, against the tyrannicall enterprises of the great men of the citie) which had power to oppose themselves against all no­velties, as new lawes, new burthens and imposts; and after a firme opposition, none might passe any further: They also had power to propose and pursue the reception of new lawes, as they knew it was requisit and profitable for all the people; whereby it often came to passe, that the Tribunes sought to make passe and to receive lawes, to the great dislike of the Patricians and Senatours, and to the utilitie of the meane people. The abovesaid Claudius Appius alwaies gave the Senate advice, to sow a Par­tialitie I Titus Livius Dec. Dionis. Halic. lib. 9. amongst the said tenne Tribunes, and by the practise of that same amongst them, they might oppose themselves against laws, which others would have to passe: For (said he) by this meanes the Tribunes power shall ruinate it selfe, without that we shall seeme any way to meddle therein, and without that the people shall know, that any of our action is in it. This counsell of Appius was many times followed, but in the end they found it did them no good: For after the Tribunes were partialized one against another, and that thereby nothing could passe nor be concluded by way of deliberation and accustomed suffrages, then fell they to armes and seditions: So that in the end the people were constrained by force to plucke from the Patricians, that which they would not permit to bee handled and disputed, by the accustomed K way of good deliberation and conclusion by pluralitie of voices. Thus oftentimes the Patricians were constrained (to appease the people) to grant them things which by reason they might have persuaded them to leave: for it is the nature of men to desire alwayes that which is denied them, as the Poet Horace sayth very well, expres­sing that which happeneth ordinarily in the world:

That which denied is most commonly, A
Desired is of us most ardently.

Moreover, it often came to passe, that the Patricians desired to make passe to the people (by meanes of the Tribunes) some law, which seemed unto them profitable for the commonwealth, but they could not come to their pretences, because they had fashioned the Tribunes to a contradiction one of another: And of those Tri­bunarie partialities arose at Rome, great insurrections of the people, and great mur­thers and effusion of blood, as there did, when the two brethren Graccht were slain: And therefore that goodly counsell of Appius (whereupon Machiavell hath made B his Maxime) was cause of great evils and calamities, as surely it is easie to judge, That all Partialities and divisions are cause of ruine and desolation amongst a people: whereof we are also advertised by him who is truth it selfe, our Lord Iesus Christ, who saith, That every kingdome divided in it selfe, shall be desolate. And if there be any Machiavelist so grosse headed, as hee cannot comprehend this in his spirit, yet may he see this by experience in Fraunce, if he be not altogether blind: and if hee be French, he cannot but palpably touch it in the losse of his goods, and in the death of his parents and friends, unlesse he be a lazer▪ or without sence: For all the late ru­ines of Fraunce, from whence have they proceeded, but from the partialities of Pa­pists and Hugenots, which strangers sowed and maintained thereof. It is solly to say, C that the diversitie of Religion was cause thereof: For if men had handled all contro­versies of Religion, by preachings, disputes, and conferences, as at the beginning they did, they had never falne into any Partialitie: but since men came to armes and massacres, and that, by constraint they will force men to beleeve, partialities sprung up, which was the onely marke whereat all strangers shot, that thereby they might plant in Fraunce the government of Machiavell.

The Chalcedonians were well advised, not to beleeve the counsell of the Aetoli­ans, which resembled this doctrine of Machiavell, and the counsell of Appius: for when the warre was open betwixt the Romanes and the king Antiochus, the Chal­cedonians, allies and friends of the Romanes, caused to be assembled the States of D their countries, to resolve upon that which Antiochus made them understand, That his onely comming into Greece, was to deliver the countrey from the subjection and servitude of the Romanes, and therefore required them to allie and conjoyne themselves with him. The Aetolians (which were very unconstant and mutable peo­ple with each wind, as are the Machiavelists) chanced to be in that assembly, and per­suaded the Chalcedonians, that it was certaine, that the king Antiochus had passed from Asia into Europe, to deliver Greece from the Romanes servitude, and that they thought it best, that all the cities of Greece ought to allie and contract amitie with both the two parties, the Antiochs and the Romanes: For (said they) if wee allie our selves with both parties, when the one would offend us, the other will revenge us. E The Chalcedonians not finding good this counsell of the Aetolians, knowing well, that as none can serve two contrary masters, so neither can they allie themselves with two nations enemies, and that they which will entertaine two contrarie parties, shall often fall into the malegrace of both: And therefore Mixtion, one of the principals amongst the Chalcedonians, made to the Aetolians a very wise and notable answere: ‘Wee see not (masters Aetolians, say they) that the Romanes have seized upon any [Page 318] towne in Greece, neither that therein they have placed any Romane garison, nor that F any payeth them tribute, neither know we any, unto whome they have given any law, or any thing changed their estate: And therefore we do not acknowledge our selves entangled in any servitude, but that we alwaies are in the same libertie which we have alwayes been: Being therefore free, we stand in no need of a deliverer, and the com­ming of the king Antiochus into Greece, cannot but hurt us, who can performe no greater good unto us, than to withdraw himselfe farre from our countrey: And as for us, we are resolved to receive none within our townes, but by the authority of the Ro­manes, our allies.’ The Chalcedonians then governed themselves after this answere, and it happened well unto them. But the Aetolians were almost all ruined and lost by practising their foolish opinion, to entertaine both the Romanes and Antio­chians, together: for so were they of necessitie forced to seeke practises, alwayes to G maintaine warre betwixt that king and the Romane commonweale, to the end, that the two powers might alwayes stand on foot, without abilitie one to overthrow ano­ther, because otherwise could they not attaine to their desseigne and purpose, which was to keepe themselves in friendship with both parties: yet thus seeking and practi­sing to sustaine them both, and maintaine them enemies, they made themselves ha­ted of both: So that after the retreat of Antiochus into his countrey, these miserable Aetolians fell into a desperate case, like to have torne one another in pieces, burde­ning and accusing mutually one another to be the inventors of that wicked counsell: yet in the end, by the Romanes clemencie and bountie, which pardoned them, they H had a certaine subsistence, though in a meane sort.

In the towne of Ardea, a neighbour of the Romanes, there was a like partialitie, Titus Livius lib. 4. Dec. 1. as there is at this day at Genes: for now at Genes the people is banded against the nobles, and they will by no meanes receive any for duke of Genes of the nobilitie; insomuch, as all dukes of Genes must needs be villaines and base men of race, and it may be there will be found in France of the like race, as at Genes: The like partialitie (I say) being in the towne of Ardea, betwixt the nobilitie and the people, it happened that two young batchelers, one of the people, and another of the nobilitie, fell at de­bate one against another, about the obtaining in marriage a yong maid of excellent beautie, but of a base and carterly race: Great bandying there fell out about this ma­riage, they of the nobilitie all casting their heads, and employing their abilities for I their gentleman, who loved and desired that maid; and they obtained so much, as they got the maids mother on their side, who affected, that her doughter might bee placed in a noble house: But contrarie, the people which were for the other young man of their owne race and qualitie, did so much for him, as they gained the maids tutors, which thought, that it was more reasonable, that their pupill should espouse an husband of her own qualitie, than to mount into an higher degree: for that equa­litie ought (as much as might be) to bee observed in marriage: Vpon altercation of this marriage, the parties were drawn unto justice, and the maid was adjudged to the gentleman, after the advice of the mother: yet although by law the gentleman got K the cause, by force he could not: for the tutors with strong hand forced the maid from her mother: The gentleman unto whom she was adjudged, being almost enra­ged at this tape and injurie that was done him, gathered together a great companie of other gentlemen, his parents and friends, and gave charge upon those which had taken away his betrothed wife: Breefely, there was a great stirre and noise through the towne, and a great number slaine on both sides; and at last the gentlemen re­mained [Page 319] masters of the towne, and the people were driven away: The people straying A about the fields, ruinated the houses and possessions of the nobles: The abovesaid nobles sent to Rome, embassadors for succours: The people likewise sent to the Vols­ques (people of Tuscane) for their aid: By this meanes the Romanes and the Vols­ques fell to warre one against another: But the Romanes carrying away the victory, beheaded the principall authors of the insurrection, which happened for this marri­age in the towne of Ardea, and confiscated all their goods, which was adjudged to the communaltie of the Ardeates. Here you see how the partialitie which was in the towne of Ardea, was cause of that great calamitie and combustion: and therefore well to be noted, are these words of Titus Livius: The Ardeates (saith he) were conti­nually in an intestine warre, the cause and commencement whereof proceeded of the contention B of partialities, which alwaies have and will bee ruinous and domageable to people farre more than externe warres, than famine, than pestilence, or than all o­ther evils, which the gods doe send upon citties, which they will altogether destroy. These words are full contrarie to the Machiaveline doctrine, as indeed they are the words of another manner of author than Machiavell, at whome I doe much mar­vell, that he dare attempt to write discourses upon Titus Livius, since any may see, be understands him not, and his doctrine is also cleane contrarie to that of Titus Li­vius. Vnto the said sentence of Titus Livius, I will adde that which he reciteth from Quintius Capitolinus, who admonishing the souldiors of his armie: ‘Our enemies (said hee) come not to assaile us upon any trust they have in our cowardize or their C owne vertue, for many times alreadie they have assayed both the one and the other; but it is for the confidence they have in our partialities and contentions which now are betwixt the Patricians and the people: for our partialities are the venome which empoysoneth and corrupteth this citie, because we are too imperious, and you too unmeasurably desirous of libertie.’

The partialities of the Carthaginians, were they not cause of their utter ruine? There were two factions at Carthage, the Barchinian (whereof was Annibals house) Titus Livius lib. 1. Dec. 3. and the Hannoenne contrarie. As soone as Amilcar the father of Anniball, was dead, the Carthaginians elected for captaine generall of their armie, Asdruball their citi­zen, one of the Barchian faction, which they sent to make war in Spaine with a great armie. D This Asdruball had learned his art of warre under Amilcar, which was the cause why he sought to have Anniball nigh him (who at that time was very yong) to administer unto him the same benefit which he had received at his fathers hands, and therefore writ to the Senate of Carthage. The Senate brought this to deliberation, and Hanno his advice being demanded, he reasoned in this sort: ‘Masters (said he) me thinkes the demaund of Asdruball is very equall, yet I am not of opinion, his request should be graunted him: For it is equall in that hee desireth to restore a like benefit to the sonne, as he hath received of the father: yet may not we herein accom­modate our selves to his will, and give him our youth to nourish after his fancie. I am then of advice, that this young Anniball be nourished and educated in this cittie, E under the obedience of lawes and magistrates, and that he be learned to live after justice, and in egalitie with others, least this little fire do one day raise up a farre grea­ter.’ The wisest and best advised of the Senate were of this opinion, but the pluralitie (which was of the Barchian faction) was to send young Anniball into Spaine to the warre, who as soone as he came there, was much beloved of the souldiors; as well be­cause he resembled his father Amilcar, as for his militarie vertues. Not many yeares [Page 320] after, he was chosen captaine generall of the Carthaginian armie: But as soone as F he was setled in that estate, he accomplished the prophesie of Hanno, for hee lighted the great fire of the Punicke warres against the Romanes, whereby in the end the Carthaginians were utterly ruined: All this proceeded but from the Partialitie which was at Carthage: for as soone as the Hannonians reasoned one way, the Barchini­ans must needs reason to the contrarie, and they studied for nothing, but that by the pluralitie of their voices, their opinion might obtaine the upper hand, without any care or consideration, what opinion was the best: And thus ordinarily happeneth it, where there is any Partialitie: For then men give themselves more to contradiction, than to judge after an wholesome sentence, and without passion of that which is pro­fitable and expedient.

The Partialities of the houses of Orleance and Burgoigne (in our grandfathers G memorie) were they not cause of infinit miseries and calamities, wherewith France was afflicted by the space of more than threescore yeares? and of the entier ruine of the Bourgonianne house? Lewis duke of Orleance, the alone brother of king Charles the sixt, tooke for his devise (Mitto.) Duke Iohn de Bourgoigne tooke for his (Ac­cipio) challenging as it were thereby an egalitie with the only brother of the king, un­der colour, that he was richer than hee: This commencement of contrarie devices, which they caused to paint in their banners of their launces, and on their servants li­verie coats, erected a great Partialitie; insomuch, as the duke of Bourgoigne enter­prised to cause the duke of Orleance to bee slaine (as hee did.) The children of the duke of Orleance (because justice was not executed on their fathers massacre) levied H armes: Duke Iohn also by armes resisted them, insomuch, as all the realme was parti­alized about the quarrell of these two great houses: After, duke Iohn was slaine at Monterean-fante-Yonne, in a strange manner: whereupon his sonne Philip, willing to revenge himselfe, sent for the Englishmen, which he caused to passe through Fraunce, and occupied at least the third part of the kingdome of France. This duke Philip made peace with the king, but he had a son (Charles his successour) who would never put trust in the king of Fraunce, fearing himselfe, because of the warres which his father and grandfather had raised in the kingdome, but would needs graple with king Lewis the eleventh. This king (who was too good for him) raised him up so ma­ny enemies on all sides, that the house of that duke came to ruine. Behold the fruits I of partialities, which Machiavell recommendeth so much to a prince! And hereup­on should well be noted, the saying of master Philip de Comines: That Divisions and partialities are very easie to sowe, and are a sure token of ruine and destruction in a countrey, when they take root therein, as hath happened to many monarchies and commonweales.

De Comines to prove his alledged saying, setteth down other examples, The Par­tialitie of the houses of Lancaster and Yorke in England, whereby the house of Lan­caster was altogether ruined and brought downe, and the one house delivered to the other, seven or eight battailes betwixt three and fourscore princes of the royall blood of England, and an infinit number of people. This here is no small thing, but it is ra­ther K an example, which should make us abhorre all Partialities. Hee further saith, That by the meanes of the said Partialitie betwixt these two houses, many great prin­ces and lords were banished and chased from England, and amongst others, that he saw a duke of the house of Lancaster, the cheefe of the league of that house, and brother in law of king Edward the fourth, who saved himselfe in Bourgoigne, yet in [Page 321] so poore estate, that hee went bare foot and without hose after the traine of duke A Charles of Bourgoigne, demaunding his almes from house to house. Hee after reci­teth the tragicall acts of the duke of Warwicke; of the kings, Edward and Henry; of the prince of Wales; of the dukes of Glocester and Somerset, which are strange hy­stories, that cannot be heard or read without great horror, and cannot but make men detest all Partialities and divisions.

In the time that Anniball made warre upon the Romanes, there were created Titus Livius lib. 1. & 7. Dec. 3. & lib 4. & 5. Dec. 1 Consuls together at Rome Marcus Livius and Claudius Nero, which bore great en­mitie one towards another, and of long time: The Senate fearing that these enmi­ties betwixt those two Consuls, should cause some Partialities in the administra­tion of their estate, which might turne to the domage of the publicke good, admo­nished B them both to be reconciled together. Marcus Livius made answere, That it was not needfull, and that their enmities and Partialities, should cause them with en­vie, to seeke one to doe better than another: but the Senate was not of that advice: For they remembred, that in the time of the Proconsulship of Quintius Paenus, Caius Furius, Marcus Posthumius, and Cornelius Cossus, the Romane armie had been van­quished and chased by the Veians, because of the Partialities of the cheefetaines, which could not accord in their counsels and deseignes, but tended alwayes to con­trarie ends. The like also happened in the Proconsulship of Publius Virginius, and Marcus Sergius: But the most memorable and latest example, which the Senate had before their eyes, was the losse of the battaile at Cannes, where the Romans lost C fiftie thousand men, which losse happened by the discord & Partialitie of two cheefe­taines, Paulus Aemylius, and Terentius Varro. These examples mooved the Senate to exhort these two Consuls, Livius and Nero, to a reconciliation, not beleeving that their Partialitie could serve them for any thing, but evill to conduct the affaires of the commonweale; insomuch, as being constrained by the Senates authoritie, they accorded and reconciled themselves together, and very well acquited themselves in their charge, and overthrew together a succour of fiftie thousand men, which As­druball conducted and brought over into Italie, to Anniball his brother: In this defeat also, Asdruball himselfe was slaine, and his head secretly carried and cast into Annibals campe, who yet knew no newes of that journey: When Anniball saw D the head of his brother, he then deplored his fortune, and despaired of his affaires, knowing, that the Roman vertue would never bow nor stoope for either misfortune or calamitie.

The reconciliation then and concord of Marcus Livius and Claudius Nero, were the cause of a great good and utilitie to the commonwealth, and remounted the af­faires Concord very profi­table to the common­wealth. thereof into a great hope, and abated the pride that Anniball had taken of the battaile at Cannes; as also by the contrarie, the Partialitie of Paulus Aemylius (who was a wise captaine) and of Terentius Varro (who was very rash and headie) was the cause that the Romane Commonwealth was almost utterly overthrowne, and that Anniball was mounted into so great pride and hope, to bee master thereof. E

Concord then, & not Partialitie, is profitable and healthfull to a commonwealth: and to this purpose is verie memorable, the oration of Fabius Maximus, to the Ro­mane Titus Livius lib. 10. Dec. 3. people. Fabius being elected Consull (which was the greatest magistracie in the Romane common weale) five times, and twise having had for his companion Publius Decius; the people at this time would needs take for his companion, Lucius [Page 322] Volumnius: But the above said Fabius arose upon his feet▪ and turning himselfe to­wards F the people, said: ‘My masters, I have alreadie had in two Consulships, for com­panion Publius Decius, and wee have carried our selves together, in a very good con­cord, therefore I pray you to give mee him, yet this time also, in favour of my age, which hardly can now accustome it selfe with any other companion: You know that there is nothing more firme, for the tuition of the commonweale, than magi­strates which accord well: for every man will communicate his counsell more pri­vately, with him hee knoweth, and who is of manners and conditions accordant with his owne, than with another.’ At this request of Fabius, the people accorded unto him, Decius for his companion, yea, and that with such joy and comfort, as each man thought that from so good concord of two Consuls, there could not proceede G any thing, but good and profit, to the commonwealth.

The Romanes one day, having no silver in their publike treasure, to make warre which they then had on their armes, the Senate gave charge to certaine Senators, Titus Livius lib. 5. Dec. 1. to remonstrate to the people, that each man should make them readie to doe their best, for the defence of the common wealth, and that none ought to abandon the defence of their counrrey, for want of sould and payment of wages: This was so well done, as first the knights offered, for nothing to serve the commonweale: Inconti­nent after this offer made, there runne to the pallace grear troupes of people, to cause themselves to bee enrowled to march in warre without wages: The above­said Senate, caused and ordained, that the colonels of souldiours, as well foote as H horsemen, should assemble their regiments, and by orations give them great thanks, in the name of the Senate, and of the commonwealth, for this their good will, free­ly to serve the commonweale: which commission they all executed, highly prai­sing the generositie of the Romane souldiors: Hereby all the world was taken with so great joy for this great concord and unanimitie of great and small, to conserve the commonweale, that every one wept for joy, and cryed on high: ‘That assuredly the citie of Rome was most happie, invincible and eternall, by this concord: That the knights were most brave men, worthy of praises: That the people were good and lowable, and that the debonaritie and kindnesse of the Senate had beene vanqui­shed by the prompt and voluntarie obedience of the people.’ Here you may see what I opinion the Romane people had of concord, so farre were they off to thinke that Partialities were good.

But when wee say, That concord is good, necessarie and profitable for the con­servation of the publike good; I say not, that heerein is meant, that all persons which deale in the commonwealth, ought of necessitie, to bee of one humour, of one vice and complection; For rather contrary, they must needes bee gentle and sharp, affa­ble and fierce, severe and pittifull, such as Appius, and Publicola, Catoes and Caesars: For as in the Lute, if the strings were all of one sound, the harmonie were worth nothing, but being of divers sounds, tending to one melodie, it prooves a pleasant and agreeable harmonie; so in a commonweale, or in a princes Counsell, if all were K of one humour and inclination, their advices and government could not be good, but beeing of divers natures (yet tending to one end, which is the common good) their opinions shall alwaies bee better debated, by divers and contrary reasons, and by conclusions, better taken and better digested. This it is which Tullius Hostilius king of the Romans, said to Suffetius dictator of the Albanois; The Partialities (saith Dion. Halic. lib. 3. he) which thou reprochest unto us, are profitable, and not domageable to the com­monwealth, [Page 323] as thou saist: For wee contend together, who shall most profit it, great, A or young, ould, or new citizens: And because to maintaine a publike estate, two things are necessarie, Force in warre, and Prudence in counsell, wee will contend and debate upon them both, who shall doe best, and who shall shew himselfe most vertuous in warre, and most prudent in counsell: This Partialitie then, which is in counsell, when all men tend to the publike good, are well according discordances, which in the end make a very sweet harmonie.

I conclude then this matter, with the saying of Comines, That if a prince which is in peace, maintaine Partialities amongst his subjects, they will bring him into warr, and if hee bee once in warre, they will bring him unto ruine and confusion: I con­clude then, That a prince above all things, ought to take heede, that hee nourish no B Partialities, unlesse it bee (saith hee) amongst women: For a prince may take plea­sure Partialitie amongst women. in maintaining a Partialitie amongst the ladies and gentlewomen of his court, and so may alwaies have some pleasant newes to laugh at, and take his pastime: But yet I could like better, that amongst the ladies of a princes court, there should bee such a Partialitie, as there was in times past, amongst the Romane ladies: The Titus Livius lib, 10. Dec. 2. Patrician ladies had a chappell, dedicated to the Parrician Pudicitie or chastitie, unto which place they often went, to make their devotions, in a great troupe: These ladies being one day in their chappell, there arived Verginia, who was a Patrician, but shee was married to Lucius Volumnius, who was of the third estate, although al­so a great lord: These Patrician ladies would by no meanes suffer Verginia to enter C into their chappell, because shee was not married to a Patrician, but thrust her back: Verginia said, shee was by race a Patrician, and that shee was a chast wife, without reproch, and married to a lord, who had received great honour and estates, in the commonwealth, and was now in a high degree thereof, although by race hee were but of the third estate: Notwithstanding whatsoever shee could say, these Patrician ladies would not suffer her to enter into their chappell: Verginia seeing this (to shew that shee was a chast ladie) caused an altar to bee erected to Pudicitie, and dedicating it in the presence of a great troupe of other Patrician ladies: ‘I dedicate (saith she) this alter to the Patrician Chastitie, and doe admonish you all, that the same contention, which is amongst our husbands who shall bee most valiant and D vertuous, may also bee amongst us, who shall bee most chast, and that you may so doe, and behave your selves, as this altar may bee more holily and chastly reveren­ced, than this chappell heere.’ Behould heere a contention worthie of vertuous and sage ladies! But at this day, ladies contend, who shall best dance, paint, and decke, themselves, and to doe such like thjngs, as doe not leade them into the chappell of the Romane Patricians, nor to the altar of Verginia her Chastitie, but rather doe leade them cleane contrary. E

31. Maxime. F

‘Seditions and civile dissentions are profitable and blamelesse.’

I Say against the advice of many (saith master Nicholas) G that dissentions and civile seditions, are good and profi­table, and that they vvere rhe cause that Rome is mounted into the loftie degree of empire, vvherein it hath beene: I know well that some hold, that it vvas rather her valiancie in armes, and her good fortune, vvhich so high hath lifted her up: But they which hold this, doe not consider, that deedes of armes cannot bee conducted vvith­out good order and good policie, and that is it policie, vvhich com­monly leadeth to good fortune: But certaine it is that seditions have H beene cause of good order, and of the good policie, vvhich vvas esta­blished at Rome: And in summe, all the goodly acts and examples of the ancient Romanes, have proceeded from this fountaine of se­ditions: For good examples proceede from good nurture and edu­cation; good nurture proceedes from good lawes and policies; and the mother of good lawes, are seditions, and civile dissentions, which inconsideratly most men condemne.

IT were to bee desired, that Machiavell and his nation, which I esteeme Seditions and civile dissentions so profitable, had re­served them for themselves, with all the utilitie and profit that is in them, and not have participated them with their neigh­bours. As for France, they might well have spared the Seditions and partialities, which the Italian Machiavelists have sowne on this side the mounts, which caused so much bloodshed, so ma­ny houses destroyed, and so many miseries and callamities, as every man feeles, sees and deplores. Would to God then all civile dissentions, had remained amongst the Florentines, and other Italians, who doe love & finde them good, so that the French K men, had beene without them; then would not France bee so rent and torne in pie­ces, as it is, and it should not bee enfeeblished more than halfe in his forces; the people should not bee so poore as wee see them, nor so naked of his substance, and all good meanes: For civile dissentions have brought to the realme, such a ransacke and discomfiture of goods, and have so abandoned and overthrowne all free com­merce and good husbandry (which are the two meanes to store and fill a countrey [Page 325] with abundance of goods) that at this day, there are seene no good houses, but they A which were wont to bee, are ruinated and altogether impoverished and made bar­ren: Seditions cause of ra­vishments, of goods, & of cessation of com­merce▪ and agriculture. And truely it is as in a forrest, when a man sees all the goodly oakes hewen downe, and that there remaineth no more there, but thornes, shrubs, and bushes; For even as such a forrest, which either hath none, or few trees in it, meriteth ra­ther the name of a bush, than of a forrest; so the kingdome or commonweale, whose good & ancient houses are impoverished, deserveth rather to be named by the name of a desart, than of a kingdome or commonweale.

Moreover, the reason which Machiavell alledgeth, whereby hee would proove Seditions to bee good, is very grosse and foolish: for follow with this, Because Sedi­tions are sometime not the cause but the occasion, that there are made some good B lawes and rules, That they are therefore good: This reason is like the argument of a certaine philosopher, whom Aulus Gellius mocketh, who would maintaine, that the fever quartaine is a good thing, because it makes men sober and temperate, and to guard themselves from eating and drinking too much. Such philosophers as de­light to broach such absurd opinions, deserve to bee left without answere, with their Seditions and fever quartaines, to draw out such profit from them, as they say doe proceede out of them: Doth not the common proverbe say, That from evill manners, doe proceede good lawes? and doth it therefore follow, that evill manners are goods? that is, doth it follow, that white is blacke, or blacke white? The grossest headed fellowes know well, that law makers, never set downe lawes, but onely to re­forme C vices, and abuses, which are in a people: so that indeede, no lawes would have beene made, if the people walked uprightly, and committed no abuses, nor had any vices: For lawes are not set downe, but for transgressors, and to hould intempe­rate persons within limits, and bounds: Heereof followeth it, that abuses, vices, stray­ing, and lusts, are occasions of good lawes, and prudent princes and law makers are the efficient causes of them; but it doth not therefore follow, that vices, abuses, and straying lusts, are good things.

Moreover, it is not alwaies true, that which Machiavell saith, That Seditions are causes, or occasions of having good lawes and rules: The Seditions which were rai­sed up at Rome, by Tiberius Gracchus, and Caius his brother, Tribunes of the people, D which were so great and sanguinary, were not cause of any good lawes: They were the cause, that they both were massacred, as they merited, but they were neither cause nor occasion of any good law or rule: and how should they bee cause thereof, seeing they tended to authorise and make passe wicked lawes, and to despoile true masters and proprietors of their goods? For Tiberius Gracchus, pursued by his Seditious faction that a law (called Agraria) might bee received and authorised, whereby it was not lawfull for a Romane citizen, to possesse above ten acres land, which was as much to say, as to take away the more from them, which had more: And because Marcus Octavius his companion, in the Tribunate, opposed himselfe to hinder the passage of this law, as both wicked and unjust; Gracchus would needes have had him E dispatched of his estate, and sought to make a Triumvirate of himselfe, of his bro­ther, and of his father in law, to divide amongst the people, rich men goods: This was the cause that the great lords of the citie, by the advice and counsell of Scipio Nasica (who was accounted the best man thereof) slew him in the Capitoll, and cau­sed his body to bee cast into Tiber: His brother Caius Gracchus beeing Tribune of the people, a certaine space after, sought againe to bring up that law Agraria, and [Page 326] would needs devise one out of his owne braine; whereby it was ordained, that in all F judgements and conclusions of affaires, there should be 600 knights, and 300 Sena­tors, all having voices; & this did he, to have the pluralitie of voices, at his command, knowing that the knights, would alwaies easily encline to his pursutes, and so could hee not faile to obtaine what hee would, if at all deliberations, there were twise as many knights as Senators. But this was a wicked law, tending to overthrow and weake the authoritie of Senators, and therefore they hindered it: For Lucius O­pimius Consull (by the decree of the Senate) caused the people to arme themselves, and to goe assaile Caius Gracchus, with the seditious of his troupe: and in the conflict Gracchus was slaine, with Flacchus his fellow in the Triumvirate. Finally, the seditions of these two bretheren Gracchi, tended but to bring forward wicked lawes, G and heereof came no good, but they were cause of infinit murders, and of great effusion of bloud.

The seditions also, which were raised up at Rome, by the Triumvirate of Octavi­us, Antonius, and Lepidus, what good brought they to the commonwealth? They Dion. in Augusto. were cause of infinit mischiefes, of great and long civile warre, of the death of an infinit number of persons, of the ruine, impoverishment and pillage of the provin­ces of the empire, and finally of the change of the estate of the commonwealth, in­to a monarchie: And although that the subjects of the Romane empire, did not then feele any harme by that change, because they light on a good prince, Au­gustus; yet after they felt it, under five or sixe emperours, all which successively fol­lowed, H Augustus, that is to say, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero, Otho and Vitelli­us, all which were bad emperours, and governed very tyrannicallie.

Herodianus writeth, That the Greekes were first subjugated, and brought under subjection by the Macedonians, and after, by the Romanes, because of their accu­stomed Herod. lib. 3. seditions, whereby they bannished or caused to die ordinarilie, the most va­liant and generous persons that they had in their commonwealth: And yet after they were brought under the Romanes yoke, they could not hould themselves from beeing seditious, yea even when there were many competitors to the empire: for ever they banded for some one, which was after cause oftentimes of the racing, rui­nating and destroying of their best townes, as happened in the time of Severus, to I such as partialized for Niger.

Before the Romanes had subjugated the Gaulois, Gaule was divided into pettie commonweales (as Iulius Caesar saith in the commentaries) which notwithstand­ing were leagued together, and held a diet, once a yeere at Dreux to parlie and confer of the whole countries affaires: But at last there fell a partialitie amongst them, insomuch, as there became great warre betwixt the Sequanois and the Autu­noys: The Sequanois drew to their succours the Alemains, under the conduction of Ariovistus; and the Autunois the Romanes, under the conduction of Caesar: Caesar ariving in Gaule, to succour the Autunois, did so well, as hee planted greater division and sedition through all Gaul, and by that meanes subjected it to the Ro­mane K empire. And it was a province, which the Romanes esteemed most opulent and rich of all them under the empire: so made they their account, to draw ordi­narilie out of it, greatest store of silver: And indeede, after Gaul was made subject unto the Romanes, it was alwaies much vexed with imposts, and tributes, and with the extorcions & pillages of governours; which (to cover their robberies with some coulour) said, it was needefull to hould the Gaulois poore, least they rebelled a­gainst [Page 327] the Romanes, against whom they had aunciently made warre, and obtained A upon them many victories.

The tenne Potentates which were created at Rome in the place of Consul, would Dionis. Halic. lib. 11. needs usurpe a tyrannie, and continue in their estate beyond the time established by lawes: But what meanes used they? even sedition: For so long as they could main­taine sedition betwixt the people, and the Patricians, their tyrannie was in some as­surance, but as soone as great and small of the citie, were at an accord, the ten Po­tentates, were withall straight ruined and overthrowne. But this example, is very fit to confirme the Maxime of Machiavell, according to the end whereunto it tendeth, which is, to establish a tyrannie: for seditions and civile dissentions, may something serve a tyrants turne to maintaine him in his tyrannie, but because heeretofore wee B have sufficiently parlied of tyrannicall actions, and alledged many examples, which in their places may bee found, wee passe on.

32. Maxime. C

‘The meanes to keepe subiects in peace and union, and to hould them from Rebellion, is to keepe them alwaies poore.’

THe townes (saith Machiavell) which are placed in leane Discourse lib. 1. Cap. 22 lib. 2. cap. 7. lib. 3. cap. 16. and 25▪ and barren soiles, are customably united and peaceable, be­cause the inhabitants there, being ever occupied in plough­ing, D and labouring the earth, have no other meanes nor leasure to thinke upon seditions & rebellions: And contrary, townes situated in fat and rich countries, are easily enclined to stirres and diso­bediences: For truly, strifes & debates, which arise every day amongst men, proceede onely of riches, and abundance of goods, & rich peo­ple will not suffer themselves to bee handled as wee commonly see Therfore did the Romanes maintaine in poore estate, their Colonies, and assigned them small possessions, least they should rise up against them; yea even within their owne towne, a long time raigned, a very E great Povertie, notwithstanding which, the citizens left not to bee vertuous people, & imploied in great publike charges, as were Quintus Cincinnatus, Marcus Regulus, Paulus Aemilius, and many others which were very poore, yet executed great things. And surely wee have ever [Page 328] seene that povertie, hath produced better fruits than riches, and that a F people being rich and fat, have alwaies beene more prompt to rebel­lion, and disobedience: Therefore it is an healthfull and good reme­dy, to hould subiects poore, to the end that by their riches they nei­ther may corrupt themselves nor others.

HEere may a man see the very counsell, which Guiemand gave to Giles, governour for the Romane emperour in the towne of Soi­sons, and the neighbour countries. Chilperick the fourth of that name, king of France, had for one of his most especiall friends and G counsellors, this Guiemand, who was a valiant and sage French ba­ron. This king sometimes led a slipperie and disordinate life, so that to furnish his pleasure and unmeasurable expences, hee was constrained to impose upon the people great imposts, and to commit great exactions. The French, which at that time were of an austere courage (saith the hystorie) begun to hate him and beare him evill will, and to resolve amongst themselves to seize his person, and to appoint a tutor for him, and so to take from him all his young and bad counsellors about him: which he perceiving, demaunded Guiemand his advice, what he should doe: Guiemand counselled him to flie, and to give place to the French ire, which in his absence hee would appease, and as soone as they were quieted, hee would recall H him: He also parted a gold ring in two, and gave one moietie to the king, saying: Sir when I send you this other halfe, which I keepe, it shall be unto you a certain token, that you may boldly come againe, and without feare. Chilperick then retired towards the king of Thuringe, and in his absence the French elected for their cheefetaine, the said Giles, governour of a great part of Gaule, which the Romane emperor then held: This Giles called Guiemand to be about him, as one of his Counsell, because he was reputed a wise man: Guiemand dissembled the best he could by the space of nine yeares, all which time he was about this Giles, yet never forgetting the amitie and fi­delitie which hee bore to his king: But amongst other things which hee counselled this governour, this was one, that hee gave him to understand, that the Frenchmens I natures is, to be rudely handled in great subjection, and to take great heed they doe not enrich themselves; for they are farre better poore than rich, and when they are rich, and at their ease, then doe they incontinent rebell against their prince. Breefely, by this goodly counsell (whereof he desired such issue as after happened) hee put in that Romane governours head, to lay great imposts and exactions upon the French people, and withall to practise cruelties. This was the cause that the Frenchmen (by the advice and secret handling of Guiemand himselfe) called againe their king Chil­perick, unto whom Guiemand sent the halfering which he had. The king returning, the French gentlemen met him even at Bar, where they dealt with him most hono­rably: The king also forgave them all new tributes and imposts, and from thence K forward governed himselfe wisely, and of a Sardanapalus, which he had been before his flight, he became after his returne a noble and valiant prince, and chased the Ro­manes from a good part of Gaule which they held, and greatly enlarged the limits of the realme of Fraunce. Therefore is it evidently seene, that the Maxime of Ma­chiavell, or the counsell which Guiemand gave to Giles (which is one same doctrine) is not very good, and that the issue thereof cannot be but evill.

[Page 329] And to argue this point by reason, I thinke every man will confesse unto me, that The force of a prince cō ­sisteth in the riches of his countrey. A it is more expedient for a prince to bee king and lord of a rich and plentifull coun­trey, than of a barren and poore countrey: for a withered and poore country cannot nourish any great people: Moreover, a poore and barren countrey cannot produce and bring forth things necessarie to the tuition thereof, as abundance of corn, wine, fodder, money, and other things. Finally, to make a kingdome strong and puissant, (as well to maintaine it, as to augment it) there is a necessitie, that it bee copious and rich of all things. And although Machiavell in a certaine place where he speaketh of warre, maintaineth, that the common saying is false, That money are the sinewes of warre, this hindereth not, but that which we say may be true: For suppose it bee true (as Machiavell by his foolish subtiltie maintaines, that it is the good soldiors which B are the sinewes of the warre and not money; yet these sinewes cannot stirre, nor bee brought to any great actions, without clapping upon the cataplasme of money: So that if money be not the sinewes of warre (after the foolish subtiltie of Machiavell) because they have not of themselves either motion or operation: yet at the least are they the meanes which causeth the sinewes to moove, and without which souldiors can doe nothing, or at least, without paiment, in equipolent kinds to mony, as victuals, apparrell, and armour. And if it be objected unto me, that there are some poore nations, which notwithstanding are puissant and warlicke, as were the Macedonians in the time of Alexander the Great, and these were poore in regard of the Greeks, Persians, and Medes; and as at this day are the Tartarians and Scythians; and as the C Suisses were within this hundred yeares: Hereunto I doe many wayes answer: That first I will not denie, that the nations or poore countries cannot bee but naturally good warriors (as commonly all Northernly nations are, of which number, are the Macedonians, Scythians, and Tartarians; yea, the Suisses also & the Almaignes hold now of the North) But this their martiall vertue proceeds not from their povertie: For in Affricke, America, and in many other places of Asia, and in many Islands there are many poore nations, yet nothing warlicke: But if poore nations, which are naturally warlicke, become rich in their countrey, they will not therefore leese their warlicke vertue: As the Suisses at this day are very opulent and rich, yet are they no­thing lesse valiant in warre, than they were in the time of the battaile of Morat (about D a hundred yeares since) which they got against the duke of Bourgoigne: in which time they were so poore, that many of them could not discerne vessels of silver from peuter, as M. de Comines saith. The Macedonians also, became very rich, after that under the conduct of Alexander, they had conquered Asia, yet remained they al­wayes generous and valiant. The Romanes also in time of the foundation of Rome, were very poore, but within a small time they became very rich, yet therefore lost not their valour and generositie. It is not then the povertie of the country which makes a warlicke people, but rather the nature and inclination of the heaven, which likewise is much aided, when the countrey may become rich.

If there be opposed unto me also, That we see many princes and private persons, Riches is more re­quisit for a generall, than parti­culars. E which doe evill abuse their riches, as Caligula did 67 millions of gold, which Tiberius left him; and as Caesar did the great treasures which hee heaped up in Gaule, and as many others did. Hereunto I doe two wayes answere: First, I say, it followeth not, that r [...]ches and treasures are evill, because some abuse them, no more than wine is to be condemned, because many are drunke therewith. And although there bee some princes and other persons which have abused their riches, there are also many which [Page 330] use them well. I moreover say, that the consequence is not good in this case, from F the particular to the generall: For I confesse well, that it should be better and more profitable for the commonwealth, that in a countrey there were many houses mean­ly rich, than some little number excessively rich, because oftenest that excesse proves very pernitious to him that enjoyeth it, who is thereby sometimes incited to stray out of the limits of lawes and temperance. But suppose it true, that great riches is most commonly domageable to particulars; it therefore followeth not that they are not, nor may bee in a countrey in generall: but the more rich a countrey is, so much more is it strong and puissant, if so be that it be so well governed, as the particulars abuse not their richesse: which they will not doe (especially being under the yoke of good laws and good magistrates) if every man have not too great abundance ther­of, but in a mediocritie according to their qualities and degrees: for such a meane G seemes very requisit and profitable, because they are meanes and aids to come unto vertue, and to bee exercised therein: but the excesse is often pernitious, as it was in many particular Romanes in Caesars time, which were so exceeding opulent & rich, that their excessive riches drew them out of the limits of vertue, to give themselves unto all luxurie, and to enterprise novelties and changes.

But when I say, that unmeasurable riches are pernitious most often to particular A prince ought not to the saw­rize. persons, I meane also of the person of a soveraigne prince: For it is neither good nor profitable, that a prince doe treasure up nor make heapes of riches: for it serves but for a bait, to draw unto him enemies, or to engender quarrels and divisions after him: & we often see, that princes great treasures are causes of more evill than good. H That infinit treasure of threescore and seven millions of gold, which Tiberius left af­ter him, for what good purpose served it? It served to commit a thousand villanies and unprofitable expences, full of corruptions, which Caligula would never have made, if he had not found that treasure? And the treasure which Charles le Sage, king of Fraunce, left behind him, wherefore served it, but to sowe enmitie and division amongst brethren: for Lewis duke of Anjou got it, for which the dukes of Berry and Bourgoigne bore him evill will, and on their sides also (to get treasures) they caused great exactions to be laid upon the people. And what good did this treasure to the duke of Anjou? but tended to the destruction of him and his treasure, in the con­quest of the realmes of Naples and Sicilie. The great treasures of king Croesus of Li­dia I incited him to warre against king Sirus of Persia and Media, to his owne destru­ction. The treasures of Perseus, king of Macedonie, made him put so great confi­dence in his forces, that hee would needs have warre with the Romanes, and so lost all, together with himselfe. Breefely, it is neither good nor profitable for a prince to heape up, nor to have great treasures and riches enclosed in one place. And what then? must a soveraigne prince be poore? No: But contrarie, he had need bee rich and very opulent: for otherwise he shall be feeble and weake, and cannot make head against his enemies: but his riches and treasures must be in the purses and houses of his subjects, that is to say, a prince must so deale, that his subjects by good handling K The surest treasure of a prince, is in the sub­jects purses. and maintenance of good peace, may abound and be rich, that their townes may be maintained in their liberties and franchises, and in free commerce, and that the la­bourer and all others may be comforted and preserved from extraordinarie and ex­cessive imposts, and from exactions and pillings of magistrates, and of a companie of ruffians and violent persons, which under colour, that they hold the place of an Archer in the kings militarie ordinances, or some horseman, therefore will they eat [Page 331] and ruinate the poore labourer and others, under colour of a commission to receive A tenthes, and of others under pretext to receive some taile or money royall, and of others under diverse other pretexts: For to say true, the pettie and inferiour people is as much or more foiled and spoiled by magistrates, and such as usurpe the office of magistrates, as by the imposts of mony which are destined for the prince. If a prince then shoot at this marke, that through all his countrey and lands of his obedience, his subjects be rich and abundant, and that there be the greatest number that can be of good and rich houses, then shall there be so many treasurers for him, and he shall never want in his need: For the nobleman shall servein good order, yea, at his owne expences if need be in affaires of warre; the merchant and laborer shall furnish him with silver and souldiors; the Cleargie will willingly contribute their tenthes: breefe­ly, B the prince shall find ordinarily good and assured recourse in his subjects purses, which will be the best treasuries he can have: for in place to give great wages to other treasurers (which can often subtilly steale from their prince, without being percei­ved) these treasurers will take no wages of their prince, nor steale from him, neither will his treasure perish in their hands. And truly, the true and assured riches of a prince, which he cannot lese, and which cannot faile him, is the richesse of his sub­jects: for other of the princes treasurers may be undone by the povertie of collectors of the princes debts, or by some other chance of warre or shipwrack; but the treasure that is in all the peoples hands, is not subject to hazards: And therefore the prince cannot better treasure up wealth and enrich himselfe, than by growing rich by good C dealing with his subjects. The Venetians (which are wise Politickes) use this: For it is a capitall crime in their commonwealth, to speake of gathering money for a publicke treasure: But their particulars are so rich, that the publicke cannot bee poore.

By the abovesaid reasons it seemeth unto me, that the Maxime of Machiavell is Povertie makes men enterprise novelties. sufficiently confuted; and that it is seene, that a prince for the good of his estate, ought to maintaine his subjects rich and not poore: For to say that poore subjects will be more tractable and obedient, and will more easily thrust their heads under the yoke, and wil better beare burdens when they are laid upon them, it is rather contrarie. This was the opinion of the emperour Galba, who said (when one told him, D that Vitellius enterprised upon the empire) that there were no people lesse to be fea­red, than such as are every day in thought to live, and therfore he being such an one, was not to be feared. But Galba knew well in the end, to the losse of his life, that his saying was not true, and that a person in necessitie will seeke all meanes, good & bad, right and wrong, to obtaine his purpose. The same cause of povertie made also Otho to enterprise to aspire to the empire: For he himselfe said, that he had rather die in warre, in hazarding himselfe to come to an empire, than to die in prison for his debts. Therefore said Iulius Caesar to such as were poore and great spenders, or which were loadened with crimes, that they stood in need of a civile warre; meaning, that the Sueto. Caesar. Dict. cap. 1 [...]1 best meane to put away their povertie, was to see pilleries and thefts permitted (as E they are in civile warres) to gather silver and other goods good cheape, with little la­bour. And to this purpose is very notable the sentence of Salust: Alwaies (saith he) men of one citie, which have no goods, doe envie good people; doe make most ac­count of such as are naught; doe hate the present government, and desire a new; and disdaining their owne affaires, doe studie for a change, because povertie cannot in­curre any hazard of losse.

[Page 332] If it were needefull to confirme this by examples, to shew, That poverty hath ma­ny F times been cause of great insurrections and civile warres: We reade that at Rome Dion Halic. lib. 5. 6. 7. there were many stirrs and seditions against usurers, which eate up, and impoverish­ed the people, and caused great faintnesse. The like often happened in France: for in the time of king Philip Augustus the conquerour; in the time of S. Lewis; in the time of king Iohn; and many other times, the Iewes and Italians, which held bankes, Annal. 3. and practised usuries in France, whereby they ruinated the people, were chased and bannished out of the kingdome. The factions of Mailotins, and of such as carried coules, and hoods of divers coulours, and other like popular inventions, tending to seditions and civile warres, were not founded upon any other foundation than that, For poore people of base estate, are alwaies the authors & executioners of such fac­tions and seditions. In the time also that France was under the obedience of the Ro­mane G empire, we reade that the Gaulois rose up often, when they sought to impo­verish Dion in Aug. them by undue exactions: As in the time of Augustus, there was in Gaul one Licinius, a receiver of imposts, who practised great and undue exactions upon the people, unknowne to Augustus; and because at that time, part of Gaulois pay­ed tributes, each chiefe of every house a certaine summe by moneth; this master de­ceiver made a weeke but sixe daies, and a moneth, but of twentie foure daies; so that in the yeere, were foureteene moneths, and so two fell to his profit: Augustus being advertised heereof, was much grieved, yet did no justice thereon. Not long af­ter, Augustus sent for governour into Gaul, Quintilius Varus, who was a great lord, and before had had the government of Siria, where he had filled his hands: Ariving H in Gaul, hee sought to doe there, as hee had done in Siria, and began to commit great exactions upon the people, and to deale with them, after the Sirian manner, (that is) like slaves: The Gaulois seeing this, made a countenance, voluntarily to ac­companie Varus and his army, against the high Almaines, upon which hee made warre; but after they had conducted him and his army into a straight, whence hee could not save himselfe, they set upon him, & defeated & cut his army in pieces. Va­rus & the other great lords of his company, slew themselves in dispaire: And heere­upon the Gaulois rebelled against the Romane emperours many times; as under Nero, under Galien, & under many others, and at the last freed and cut off themselves altogether from the obedience of the empire: Whereupon I conclude, That to I goe about to hould the people poore (as Machiavell counselleth) there can arise nothing but insurrections, feditions, and confusions in the commonwealth.

But the meanes that a prince ought to hould, to inrich his subjects without weakening his owne power, is first to take away all abuses, which are committed up­on Means how a p [...]ince may enrich his subjects. on the people, in the collection of ordinarie tributes: For a prince most righteously may levie ancient & accustomed tributes, to sustaine publike charges, otherwise his estate would dissolve: And he ought not to follow the example of Nero, who once would needes abolish all tributes and imposts: and because the Senate shewed him that hee ought not to doe it, hee imposed other new, without number. For a good & wise prince, will doe neither the one nor the other, but without inventing any new K tributes, will maintaine himselfe in the exaction onely of the ancient, which hee will cause to bee received, the most graciouslie, and without stirre of the people that can bee; which to doe, it seemes to bee requisite, that such taxes & imposts, be duely laid without favour, or respect of persons: which in times of ould, was a reformation that the king Tullius Hostilius made in his time at Rome, whereupon hee was much prai­sed, [Page 333] and his poore people comforted: Men must also imitate the ancient Romanes, A which excepted no person, from patrimoniall tributes, which are such reall burdens Titus Livin. lib. 6. Dec. 3. lib. 3. Dec. 2 as are payed in regard of grounds, whereunto they belong: For there was neither Senator nor bishop, but hee paied as well as they of the third estate: There must also bee a provision made, that the receivers and treasurers (which are they which doe most hurt to the people) may no more pill and spoile the world: There must also an hand bee houlden, that so excessive usuries be no more practised, under the name of pensions and interests; and that it bee permitted to deliver silver, to a certaine mode­rate profit, which upon great paines it may not bee lawfull to exceede: for to forbid at once all profit, is to give unto men occasions to seeke out palliations in contracts, by sales of pensions; by letting to hire fruits; by selling to sell againe; fained renu­merations, B & such like coulours: There must be a provision made, that strangers, ban­quers, nor others, may no more make themselves bankrouts: And here would bee brought in use, a law, made in the time of the emperour Tiberius, whereby it was or­dained, that no man might hould a banque, upon a great paine, which had not two Sueton. in Tib. cap. 48. third parts of his goods in ground of inheritance: moreover there must bee expres­sed the superfluities of apparell, of banquets, and other like, whereby men doe so im­poverish themselves, this shall bee a cause that povertie or to have little, shall bee the more tollerable: ‘For as Cato the elder said, in an oration for the law Oppia (against the great estates and luxuries of women:) It is a great evill, and dangerous shame, the shame of povertie & parcimonie, but when the law forbiddeth superfluities & exces­ses C of apparell, and other vaine expences, it covereth that shame with an honourable mantle of living after lawes, seeing that it is a most praiseable thing, and the contra­ry, punishable and vituperable: And assuredly saith hee, it ordinarily commeth to passe, that when wee are ashamed of that, whereof wee should not, wee will not be a­shamed of that, whereof wee ought to have shame.’ Finally a prince must be a good justicer, ever respective that the meaner & poorer sort, be not oppressed by the grea­test, neither by such men as are violent or evill livers: All those things shall bee no charge to the prince, to bring to passe: yet by these meanes, hee may greatly inrich his subjects, which then will never spare any thing they have, at their princes de­mand. The people of the earledome of Foix, are of their owne natures rude and D stubborne enough, yet wee reade, That in the time of Gaston, contie of Foix (who was in the time of king Charles the sixt) his subjects paied him so great tallies and imposts, as hee held a kings estate, though hee were but a counte: Yea they payed him them, very liberally, without constraint, and bore unto him, great amitie and be­nevolence: and whereupon came this? but because hee maintained them in peace, when all his neighbors about him, were in great warre, and that hee maintained so good justice amongst them, as none but hee alone pilled and vexed them. And cer­taine it is, that if men must needes bee robbed and spoiled, they had rather to bee so dealt with, by one man alone, then of many; and that subjects will beare it better at their princes hands, than of particulars; but especiallie, when extreame and hard tal­lies E and imposts are laid upon subjects, if they bee descried to bee imployed for the publike good, and that it bee something softened and sweetened by a good peace & justice: And therefore de Comines together praiseth and reprehendeth king Lewis the eleventh his master, saying That hee pilled and oppressed his subjects, but yet hee would never suffer any other to doe them any evill, or any way to rob or spoyle them.

[Page 334] But to many it may seeme, that that we have abovesaid, tendeth too much unto F the dispraise of Povertie, which notwithstanding seemes to bee praised and recom­mended by our Christian religion: But hereunto I answer, That Povertie of it selfe, is neither praiseable nor vituperable, but men must judge of them according to cir­cumstances. For if it bee suffered with an holy patience, by a Christian man, who takes in good part, and contenteth himselfe with the vocation, whereunto God hath called him, and with the meanes which he hath given him: and if it bee accompa­nied with a simple and gentle spirit; assuredly such a Povertie may bee placed in the ranke of the greatest vertues: For it is no small vertue to bee able well and constant­ly to beare Povertie, without straying out of the path, but rather a very difficill and rare thing: Therefore the Panims themselves, praised and admired Aristides, Phoci­on, G Lisander, Valerius Publicola, Fabricius, Curius, Quintus Cincinnatus, Menencus, Agrippa, Paulus Aemilius, and many other great persons, which have carried them­selves, like good and vertuous people, though they were very poore, because they suffered Povertie, with a great and constant courage, and without straying any thing from vertue. Yet so much there wanteth, that Christian doctrine approveth this Po­vertie of begging; that contrary it forbiddeth plainely, that none bee suffered to beg: And likewise the word of God witnesseth unto us, That good men will not wil­linglie suffer their children to beg their bread, for alwaies God assisteth, and giveth them meanes: Therefore Monkes called Mendicants, have gone too far, in praising, extolling, and exalting Povertie, not taking it as it must be understoode by the word H of God: And so it is like they will soone repent, that from the beginning they have made so deepe a profession of Povertie, against which they have many times since pleaded, kicked, and spurned, yet could never bee rid, nor dispatched of it, but alwaies have beene compelled by Popes and Parliaments, alwaies to hould and observe it as a thing wherein lay and lyeth all the perfection of the orders: But be­cause this account and narration is pleasant to tyred and wearied readers, I will a lit­tle discourse upon the warres of these Mendicant friers.

You must then know, that these Mendicants, at their first entrie into the world (to renowne their names) proposed to themselves, straightly to follow the estate of per­fection, How the Mendi­cants plea­ded against Povertie & lost the cause. that by their owne merits they might enter into Paradize, and cause others I to enter into favour of them, and with their authoritie: This estate of perfection, they constituted in three points, Chastitie, Obedience, and Povertie: Of the two first points, wee will not speake heere, but onely of the last point, which is Povertie: Of this Povertie also they have made three kinds, High, Meane, and Base: High Po­vertie (which the Franciscan Friers attribute unto themselves) is that which hath no­thing in this world, neither in proper nor in common any way, that is, neither fields nor house, nor possession, nor rents, nor pension, nor beasts, nor moveables, nor ap­parrell, nor bookes, nor rights, nor actions, nor fruits, nor any other thing in the world. Behold here indeede a soveraigne, pure, and exceeding neere Povertie, wher­in there neither wanteth any thing, neither is there any thing to be reprooved, since K it hath nothing at all. The second kind (which is for the Dominicans and Iacobins) is a Meane Povertie, which hath nothing particular or proper, but only somethings in common, as bookes, apparrell, and daily victuals. The third and last kind (which the Carmelites & Augustines have retained for themselves) is Base Povertie, which may have proper, common, and in particular, whatsoever is justly necessarie to life, as apparrell, bookes, certaine pensions, and some lands, for helpe of their kitchin, and [Page 335] necessitie of their living. And it is good, to note in those good brethren the Carme­lites A and Augustines, how humble they shew themselves, to bee contented with so base a kind of Povertie, without any desire to mount higher, as acknowledging themselves, unworthie and incapable, for to ascend into so high and superlative a degree.

These Mendicants then (being obliged and restrained unto Povertie, by a solemn vow which they make at their profession, in their orders) they are so annexed, united, and incorporated in it, and with it, that never after they could be never so little sepera­ted or dismembred, what diligence or labour soever they used to do it; hereof they have found themselves much troubled and sorrowfull: For howsoever gallant and goodly the Theorique of Povertie is: yet in practise they have found it a little too B difficile and hard. And indeede, if you consider more nigh, the Theorique thereof (especially of that high and soveraigne Povertie) I know not whether you can finde any thing in the world more excellent or more admirable: For they which make profession thereof (in my opinion) come something nigh an Angell like nature; be­cause the Angels have no need of the use of the earthly & corruptible goods of this miserable world, but onely take care of divine and spirituall things. More also, they which make profession of this high Povertie, have this advauntage over the rich men, which possesse the goods of this vale of miserie, that they are not wrapped in so many mischeefes and travailes, which accompanie those goods; but are franke and free, taking no care nor thought for ploughing, manuring, sowing, reaping, grape-gathering, C lopping of trees, grafting, eradicating, cutting, planting, building, selling, buying, or doing any other like things, which concerne the affaires of the world: From all these things they are free and exempted, having nothing which hindereth them to be in a continuall contemplation and meditation of divine things, to come in time unto a great and deepe wisedome, yea, to approch to the Angelicall nature of the Cherubins and Seraphins, which have no other occupation, than to con­template and exalt the Divinitie. But also if on the other side you consider the great difficulties in this so strict and straight use of Povertie, you shall find it verily a sad and unpleasant thing: For it is an approoved Maxime, as well of the Mendicants, as of all other monkes, yea, of all men in generall, That every man must live: But a man D cannot well live, with contemplations and mediations; for the bellie is not satisfied with such viands, but it must needs have bread and victuals, which grow and proceed from the earth and possessions of this world: Whereof it followeth, That they must needs have possessions to obtaine victuals, or at least, they must buy and obtaine of them, unto whom possessions doe belong.

But the profession of Povertie (especially of that high one) repugneth and con­trarieth all this: For thereby it is not lawfull to have any possessions, nor to acquire corne, wine, or other victuals, for as much as by the acquisition thereof (whether it be by sale, donation, exchange, or other like) the acquirer and obtainer thereof makes himselfe a proprietor and master of the thing which hee obtaineth; which is not E lawfull to doe for such as make profession of high Povertie, which can no way bee propriators of any thing, be it moovable or unmoovable, victuals, apparrell, or any other thing whatsoever, as is said. Therefore you see, that the practise of Povertie is something greevous and troublesome, and not so pleasant as the Theorique: For as for Theorique, you cannot find a thing more pleasant nor facile, nor which lesse hin­dreth a man in worldly affairs, nor which meriteth more to be praised and esteemed [Page 336] in all good companies, and especially in great feasts and bankets, after the old pro­verbe, F which saith:

Hee that implete is of viands,
Fasting, to others recommands.

But upon these difficulties touching the practise of Povertie, the Mendicants have made many great questions and scruples of conscience, which many Popes have sought to resolve, yet could never satisfie nor content those brethren. Amongst others, the Friers Minors were greatly troubled in their spirits upon this; that by their rule (which the blessed S. Francis left them) it is said by an expresse article, That the G brethren of that order can have nothing proper in any manner, neither may they have any meanes to live, but to beg hard and without shame: For there are amongst them which thinke, that this may be understood of simple proprietie, and not of usu­fructe or use thereof: So that retaining the usurpation only of possessions and other things graunted unto them, rejecting the proprietie of them, they thinke not to vi­olate any part of their rule. But they that give this interpretation of the rule, dare not justifie their interpretation thereof, least they contradict the testament and last will of blessed S. Francis, their founder; whereby hee had ordained and expressely forbidden, That none should glose upon his rule; and that none should say, that it ought to be understood thus or thus; and that none should obtaine Apostolicall let­ters H from the Pope, either to adde thereunto or declare: insomuch, as on the one side, not daring to adventure to give declarations and new sence to the rule, & on the other side, beeing held so short thereby, that they dare, neither have nor acquire any thing, their consciences are mervellously troubled and tormented; and especi­ally, since some of their adversaries call them theeves, and prooving it by this argu­ment. Whosoever possesseth or eateth another mans goods, whereas hee hath no­thing, nor can have any thing of his owne, hee is a theefe: But the Mendicants, and especially the Friers Minors doe possesse habites, bookes, moovables, chambers, bribes, asses, and other moovable goods, and do eat bread and pittance, in all which goods they can have no right of proprietie, nor other: Ergo then, &c. Vnto which I argument assuredly they cannot answere: For if they replie, that in these goods by them possessed, they have the use simply without any proprietie; besides, that they have given an interpretation to the said rule, against the testamentarie prohibition of their glorious founder; a man may replie upon them, that if they will say they have a right of use in the said goods, it will then follow, that that right should be to them in proprietie, and that therefore having the proprietie of that right, they should al­wayes find themselves breakers and gainsayers of their rule, which prohibiteth, to have any thing proper, whether possessions, rights, or other goods. Hereat let every man thinke, if it must not needs be very greevous to those good Friers Minors, that men should thus argue against them by subtile arguments, to proove them theeves, K as living on other mens goods, and of that which was not theirs, like birds of prey: And so much the more this pincheth them, because they see, that high Povertie (whereby they pretend to mount to the degree of perfection) is the cause whereup­on this blame and diffame commeth. But they dare not well complaine nor speake a word, but onely tollerate all things in all patience and humilitie, not without great scruple of conscience, which many amongst them make, whensoever they thinke in [Page 337] their spirits, that that which they eat, is not their owne, neither the apparrell that A they weare; and that they have not nor can have in them any propertie, any right, any usufructe, nor any simple usage: yet could they not so represse this their greefe of mind, but it would by many tokens breake out; yea, and that meat, which with sad minds and striving consciences they had crammed their bellies withall, was againe disgorged and vomited. Finally, after they had remained a long time in that anguish and perplexitie of spirit and of conscience, it happened that they created a Pope at Rome, who in his youth had been a Frier Minor, who was called Pope Nicholas the C. Exist. de verb. sig. 6. Platina in Nicol. 3. third. The Friers seeing, that such a Pope (who once was one of theirs, and who knew the difficulties which were in the practise of this High Povertie) could not bee but favourable unto them, held a Chapiter generall, where they resolved to send cer­taine B delegates and embassadours to this Pope, humbly to beseech him to do them this favour and grace, as to take away and cut off all the said difficulties. These dele­gates then in the yeare 1280 hasted towards the S. Paternitie of this Pope, and shew­ed him from the Chapiter generall of their order, the great and indissoluble difficul­ties wherein they were, for the intelligence of the rule of blessed S. Francis, and for the observation of the prohibitions contained in his Testament, and generally for the whole practise of that High Povertie; humbly beseeching his said Paternitie to provide therefore, as he knew to bee requisit: yet they most humbly shewed unto him, by forme of advice (without any mind of presumption, to give any interpreta­tion to the said rule) that it seemed unto them, that the glorious S. Francis neither C understood nor would, that they should be left naked of all goods: For by the same rule, he had commanded them to observe the Gospell, and to follow the traces of Ie­sus Christ: But Iesus Christ (said they) had a purse and silver in it, as wee reade in the Gospell, and that therefore they thought it should bee permitted unto them so to have also. Moreover, they said, by rejecting the goods and testimentarie legacies, that good Christians would give them, that they so should bee homicides of them selves, and tempters of God, because they deprived themselves of things necessarie for the conservation of their lives: Also, that this great and High Povertie leadeth to the estate of bestialitie: because wee can obtaine no knowledge, without having bookes either in proprietie, or in use. Also, suppose they ought to have nothing at all D proper in particular, it therefore followeth not, that they ought to have nothing in common: and therefore that his Holinesse might well permit them to have goods under the common name of the Covent. And that the blessed S. Francis having commanded them by his rule to beg hardly, & without shame, by consequent hath permitted them to take whatsoever any man giveth them in almes, be it moovable or unmoovable, silver or cloth, to enjoy or use as their owne. Moreover, they humbly remonstrated unto him, That often in cases of maladies, and other necessities, they were forced to borrow, which they could not repay, unlesse they had whereof to doe it: and that therefore it was necessarie unto them to be permitted to acquire & heape up, to satisfie such as had lent them in their necessitie for their credit sake. Vpon this E supplication and remonstrance, Pope Nicholas caused to assemble the colledge of Cardinals, which in their Conclave examined well this great cause; and by their ad­vice hee ordained and declared, That the Friers Minors could have nothing in pro­prietie, neither in particular, nor in common, because the true perfection of the or­der consisteth in this point, to be dispropriated every way of all goods, without ha­ving or retaining in them any right: But he reserved unto them the fact (and not the [Page 338] right) of the usage of goods, which by legacies, or otherwise, might fall and apper­taine F unto them, retaining to himselfe and to the Romane Church the proprietie of those goods: Conditionally also, that this fact and deed of usage bee not excessive, and that in the said Friers, there alwayes shine a notable and apparent Povertie: And answering to their reasons, hee said, That our Lord Iesus Christ desiring to yeeld to our infirmities, and to condiscend to our imperfections, thought it good to have a purse and silver in it, but yet that notwithstanding to have a purse and silver, is of it selfe an action of humane infirmitie and of imperfection. And as for that they say, that the abdication and rejection of all proprietie of goods, may proove an homi­cide of himselfe and a temptation of God: he answereth no: but that the true way to perfection, is altogether to commit himselfe to the providence of God, without ha­ving G any care to provide for living; and that the meanes of begging (which by their rule was permitted unto them) could never faile them: and that also neither was it needfull to have store of victuals, that they might the better observe their said rule: but especially in that article, whereby they are enjoyned to fast every Friday, the Vi­giles, Advent, and Quadragesima, which commeth to halfe the yeare or therabouts: And that as their Povertie ought to be straight, so their victuals also ought to bee straight and sober, and that they ought to eat little: for it agreeth best with that so high Povertie. And as for that they say, that it may be lawfull for them to have goods in common: hee answereth, that is very evident, no, because the rule restraineth them to a rejection and abdication of all proprietie: and that which is common to many, H may well be said by right to be proper to all in Genere, or generall, and to every one in Specie or particular. And finally, upon that last point wherein the Friers doe un­derstand, that in cases of necessitie they are forced to borrow, and that therefore they desire permission to acquire, to repay; Pope Nicholas answereth them, That they have not well proceeded therein, to contract either borrowing or lending, because in that kind of contract there is a translation of proprietie from him that lendeth, in him which receiveth: And as the Legists say: Mutuum est cum fit de meo tuum, that is, A thing is lent, when that which is mine, is made thine. To shun therefore this in­convenience, hee gave them an acute and an ingenious counsell; which was to pro­cure and find meanes, that they which had devotion to give to their Covent, should I appoint for them principall payers in their place, of things which were necessary un­to them in their maladies, or otherwise, towards them, which would furnish them thereof; or that they should name some one (of whom they might be assured, to him that would give them any legacie) to be executor of his will, by employing the lega­cie to satisfie the furnitures made, or to make, for the Friers: Vpon condition notwith­standing, that the proprietie and possession of the silver or other thing bequeathed, bee in no sort transferred unto the said Friers, but alwayes to remaine with him that bequeathed it. Behold in summe, how Pope Nicholas resolved the difficulties of the Mendicants, touching the practise of their povertie: For he permitted unto them the use of goods which fell unto them, and reserved the proprietie of them to the Ro­man K Church: and besides permitted them to accept Testamentarie legacies, by per­sons interposed. Wherein hee well shewed what a good friend he was of that order, and that he forgot not the place wherein he was nourished in his youth, yet left he a scruple in his bull: wherupon there fell out no lesse contentions than before, because he circumscribed his permission or indulgence, with this condition: That alwayes there should shine in these Friers, an holy and manifest Povertie. This was a condition [Page 339] which touched them very nigh, as shall bee said hereafter. A

Yet the Mendicants seeing themselves to have a permission by his Apostolicall bull of Pope Nicholas, to cause legacies and foundations to be given unto them, in­continent they begun to practise themselves diligently to have them. And because they considered, that by sermons they might easily draw the devotion of the people towards them, they rushed upon that practise with all their might: which so well suc­ceeded unto them, because the bishops and curates of that time (as for the most part they were at that day) were but beasts, and could not preach at all, neither well nor ill, but the most sufficient onely knew their masse at the most. The Sermons then of these Mendicants, being of great estimate and credit with the people, they straight drew unto them store of legacies, pensions, and foundations, they never forgetting, B (either at the beginning or end of their Sermons) to recommend the works of cha­ritie towards their covents, deciphering their necessities at large, and very eloquent­ly, assuring the good people, that they might thereby gaine Paradice for them and theirs, by doing good to their said Covents. By this meanes also they drew to them the practise of burials and confessions, insomuch, as every man and woman went to the Mendicants to be shriven; which failed not, but alwayes enjoyned them for pennance, to give something to their Covents, and to cause Masses to be said for them. And whensoever it came to the extreame confession in the article of death, they exhorted the diseased to elect their sepulture in their Covents, and so to give them good legacies and benefites. Breefely, they wrought so well and diligently by C practise upon practise, that legacies and benefits even rained on all sides upon them, to the great prejudice of Curates, which lost almost all their auncient and accusto­med oblations, and which saw their offertories and suffrages to goe to nothing in their open sights, to their great greefe.

This was the cause that about the yeare 1311, the Curates (being countenanced Cap. 1. De Sepult. in ex­travag. by bishops) complained much to Pope Boniface the eight: saying, that the Mendi­cants troubled them in their auncient possessorie of Sermons, Confessions, and Se­pultures, and that they thought it was most reasonable, that they to whome apper­tained the charge of soules, should also have the bodies of the dead to burie, and that they should heare them in confession, unto whom they administred the sacraments▪ D Moreover, they shewed, that the Mendicants invented many novelties, as to preach within their Covents, at the same houre that the Curates said their parochiall mas­ses, and that they also preached withour their Covents, without either the Bishops license, or the Curate of the place: And by such practises and novelties, the said Mendicants had taken away from the said Curates the most part of their obventi­ons and revenues, and so brought their estates almost to nothing: therefore most humbly they besought his Paternitie to remedie those abuses, and to maintain them in their auncient possessions. Pope Boniface upon this complaint of the Curates (for which all Bishops and Prelates entreated) would give provision, and by his ordi­nance which he made, with the advice of his brothers Cardinals, he exhorted much the Curates to take patiently, that the Mendicants have right & authority to preach, E confesse, and burie, shewing them, that it was free to the people, to goe heare a ser­mon, to confesse themselves, and to chuse their scpulture where they thought good. Moreover, to doe them right in this, that the Mendicants frustrared the said Cu­rates of their practickes and obventions, hee ordained, That from thence forward the said Curates (least they carried the name of Curate in vaine and without profit) [Page 340] constituted by Apostolicall authoritie, that they should levie and retract a fourth F part, from all legacies, foundations, and other obventions, which the said Mendicants could obtaine, and might any way fall and come unto them by meanes of the said Sermons, Confessions, Sepultures, or otherwise: forbidding the said Mendicants for no cause to preach in their Covents at the houre that parish Masses, or at the houre that Bishops or their Vicars doe preach: And not to preach out of their Co­vents, without the permission of the Bishop or the Curate of the place: Exhorting moreover the said Curates and Mendicants respectively to live and carry themselves together from thence forward, in good peace and concord, and by no meanes to suf­fer, that the spirit of division (the enemie of human nature) be so familiarly acquain­ted with them. G

The Pope Boniface having made this ordinance and rule betwixt the Curates and Mendicants, soone after they entred further than ever, into contentions and debates: For when Curates went into the Mendicants Covents to aske their fourth part of the practickes and obventions of the said Mendicants, they would straight joine al­together, and make such a shouting, braying, and hissing at the poore Curat, calling him beast, ideot, asse, and saying he could not well reade his Masse, nor decline their name: And further, would aske them certaine pettie questions out of Grammer, and bid them turne something into Latine, to shame them. And thinkest thou beast (said they) that we have taken paines to prepare meat to put in thy mouth? Belongeth it unto the Asse, to reape that which wee sowe: Goe, goe beast to thy Breviarie, if thou H canst reade it, & come not into our Covent to beg any thing, unlesse thou wilt have our discipline: goe and studie thy Dispauterie, and Amo, Quae Pars, and come not hi­ther to trouble and defile the pure fountaine of holy Theologie, wherein thou un­derstandest nothing: some others cried, come, come, unto our Refectorie, and wee Cap. 1. De Privileg. in etravag. will lay the Trebelliane fourth part on their shoulders. These poore Curates then (seeing the said Mendicants approch them, beating one hand against another, let­ting downe their coules, and lifting up their fists) in a great feare retired out of their Covents. And knowing no way possibly to obtaine their due, which had been gran­ted them by Pope Boniface, they offered their greefes and sorrowfull complaints to Pope Benedict the eleventh, in the yeare 1304, or thereabouts. But the Mendicants I were not cowards, to remonstrate also their good right on their side, and amongst o­ther reasons especially shewed, that as by good right none wil withdraw a Falcidie or fourth part from devout & godly legates; so none ought to take a fourth Trebelliane from their practickes and obventions, seeing they were bestowed on them for godly causes also. Pope Benedict after good deliberation upon this waightie matter, with the advice of his Cardinals, and of certaine other good old doctors of Law, found, that the Mendicants their reasons were well founded in right, and that there was no apparent reason, wherefore they should pay to the said Curates the fourth part of their practickes and obventions: For although there was some colour in that, that the Curates said, That they ought to have the fourth part of obventions and reve­nues K of Mendicants, because they had the name and title of Curates, even as an heire ought to have the fourth Trebelliane free, because he hath the name and title of heire: yet in this rule there is a fallacie (said these old doctors) in regard of Legates for godly and devout causes: For Legates are exempt from delivering of fourth parts: such like as those which Mendicants take of godly Christians. And for con­firmation of their opinion, they alledged Godfredus in Summa, Azo, Hugolinus de [Page 341] Fontava, Guilliermus de Cuneo, Rainerius de Foro Livio, Hubertus de Bobio, Petrus de A bella Pertica, Oldradus de Ponte, and many other old doctors of Law. They alledged also certaine strong pillars out of Bartolus and Baldus, upon which they said their opinion was founded. And therefore Pope Benedict, mooved with their allegations and with equitie, rased and made of no validitie the ordinance of Pope Boniface in that case, taking away and utterly abolishing the said fourth part: yet something to content the Curates, he ordained, that they should have the halfe of the funerals of such as were buried with the Mendicants, that is to say, the halfe of the spoiled things which served for the conduction of the bodie (as torches and cloth about the cof­fio) which was no great bootie, in comparison of legacies, obits, foundations of mas­ses, and other obventions, yet there was no helpe, the Curates must needs be conten­ted B with this sanction and decree for this time.

Yet hereof engendred a greater quarrell than ever, betwixt the Curates and Mendicants: For the Curates said high and cleare, That Pope Benedict had done them wrong, to take from them the said Trebelliane upon practickes and obventi­ons of Mendicants, and that those new come beasts would have all, and would spoile all Curates of their goods and revenewes: And that under the title and name of Mendicants and contemners of the goods of this world, they manifested them­selves to bee rapinous hypocrites, which will needes have all, by right or wrong. These Curates so cried and complained, and so well remonstrated their right unto Cap. 2. De Sepult. in Clem. Pope Clement the fift of that name, at the Counsell of Vienne, Anno 1311, that the C Pope rased the ordinance of Pope Benedict, and againe brought into force that of Pope Boniface.

Moreover, in the said Counsell of Vienne there was demonstrated unto the said Pope Clement, that the said Mendicants had greatly abused the commission of Pope Cap. 1. De Verb. sig. in Clem. Nicholas, who had reserved, That alwayes in the order of the said Mendicants there should shine an holy and apparent Povertie: yet alreadie the said Mendicants had so well practised and profited in their trade, that there was no more amongst them any appearance of Povertie: For each day they instituted heires, they gave legacies pensions, and revenues, vines, gardens, and other possessions, also they builded their Covents like royall pallaces: insomuch, as there appeared in them nothing but ri­chesse D and opulencie, so much there wanted, as in them appeared any ensigne or to­ken of holy Povertie, as should shine in them according to their rule, and the reser­vation and condition which Pope Nicholas set downe in his bull. Pope Clement ha­ving understood all this by the advice of the said Counsell, declared the said Men­dicants (although he himselfe had been one) incapable to be heires, to receive te­stimentarie legacies, or to have possessions, rents, or pensions, yea, to have barnes of corne, or cellars of wine, unlesse in time of great necessitie, or to have precious Church ornaments or houses sumptuously builded. Breefely, this Pope to their great greefe, brought them againe to their first practise of High Povertie, Meane, and Base, and cut neere their wings, that they might not forsake and abandon it from E thence forward: yet hee tooke not from them their usage of fact, of some small and few goods, as many as might be necessary for their simple nourishment, therin com­prehending the youth of the order, and without any thing departing from their Povertie: so that alwayes there might remaine something unto them justly, where­of to live.

But Pope Iohn the two and twentie of that name, in Anno 1324, tooke yet from [Page 342] them the said usage of Fact, and sent them purely and simply to their clap-dish, and F begging for their living, saying, That the said usage of fact, reserved to Mendicants, imported and attributed unto them a propertie; because the act of use is proper to them which exercise it; and therefore whosoever hath that act of use, hee by conse­quent hath something proper, which after hee concludes by his bull, that all that goodlie subtiltie and invention of Pope Nicholas, to leave the use of goods to Men­dicants, and to reserve the propertie of these goods to the Romane church, was but a simulation and hipocrisie, wherewith the Mendicants seeke to cover themselves, and abandon fairely that holy Povertie, wherein they have constituted the estate of perfection, and whereunto hee sent them.

When the Mendicants saw themselves thus disgraded and remitted, as deepe as ever into their Povertie, they were much offended, but then there was no order nor G means to remedie it, but for a long time, made the best of it they could. About three­score and sixeteene yeeres after this ordinance of Pope Iohn (that is Anno 1490) there was a Pope created, called Alexander the fift, a Candiot by nation, who had Monst. lib. 1. cap, 56. beene a Fryer Minor in his youth, unto whom these Mendicants resorted, and shew­ed him, that they were the true Curates, and pastors of the people, because they had right and priviledge from the Apostolike seat, to confesse all people, and to burie their bodies, and that those whom they confesse were held and reputed both well and duely confessed, without any neede to be againe confessed to Curates, and those which they burie, were knowne and reputed to bee well and duely buried: They fur­ther H said, that they had priveleges to preach to the people, & to say Masses, as good and vailable (at the least) as them of Curates, yea the people liked them better, & said they were devout, and more frequented them, than such as Curates said: And withall they said, that in their covents, there was great store of Masses, and at all times, to the great profit and commoditie of every man: For they, which for their breakefast in the morning, or when they were to ride forth, had neede of a morning Masse, they should finde there some readie said, at three or foure a clocke: They likewise which rise late, as good old and devout women, found Masses at nine, ten, and eleaven a clocke, yea as many as they would, betwixt five a clocke in the morning, untill dinner time: They further remonstrated, to the paternitie of this holy Father, that the said I Curates were asses, and shod beasts, which could not acquite the due of the least ser­mon, which was made in all the yeere, and which lived not upon their cures and be­nefices, but suffered them to bee served, by as ignorant Vicars as themselves, which cared not for any thing, but to make profit, by farming their said cures, whereby they committed infinit abuses, seeking onely to clip their sheepe, without giving them a­ny spirituall foode: But as for us (said they) wee distribute unto them spirituall meat, in all larges and abundance, as well by celebration of Masses, and other divine ser­vices, as by multiplication of sermons, within and without our covents: Wherefore it evidently followeth (said they) that we are the true and actuall Curates of the peo­ple, performing and executing all the acts of legitimate Curates, & that they which say they are Curates, are so but in a shaddow and fantasie onely, and that they are un­worthie K to carry the name and title they have, and thereby to enjoy the fruits, de­signes, oblations, obventions, and other revenewes & practikes, which such Curates possesse: So they concluded in this, that it would please his Paternitie, to create, esta­blish, and constitute them, the alone and true Curates, and to put them in reall and actuall possession of the said cures, and of the revenewes and dependences of them, [Page 343] with inhibitions to such as called themselves Curates, and to all others, not to trou­ble, A molest nor hinder them in any sort, by themselves or by interposed persons, up­on paine to encurre the indignation and malegrace of S. Peter, and of S. Paul, and of perpetuall damnation, without any hope of grace, pardon or appeale. Vpon this goodlie remonstrance, containing so ponderous and considerable reasons, Pope A­lexander referred the matter to counsell, and by the advice of his Cardinals, granted to Mendicant Friers, all that they demanded, and caused with great expedition to goe out faire and ample bulls, & well leaded: These good Mendicants friers, as soone as they had got out their bulls, came straigbt from Rome to Paris, to cause them to bee received & registred in the court of Parliament: But before they presented them to the said court, they advised and concluded, that it was most expedient to have the B people favourable, and on their sides: Therefore through all a whole lent, they prea­ched at Paris in all their covents, the contents of their bulls, saying, That they onely were the true Curates, & pastors of soules, by the ordinance & creation of the Pope, Gods lieutenant on earth, of whose power none ought to doubt; and exhorted the people so from henceforth to acknowledge them, to the end to shunne the paines set downe in our holy Fathers bulls, against all contradictions thereof: And in their sermons they forgot not to make invectives against a companie of Curates, which knew nothing, but to take the revenewes of their cures, without any deserving them, neither spared they also, to taxe & detest their beastlie and too notorious ignorance: But yet were they something deceived in their opinion, for at Paris many cures were held, and possessed by doctors, Theologians of Sorbonne: These doctors, then fea­ring C the consequent of these bulls of the Mendicants, and that thereby they might be dispossessed of their cures, incontinent mounted also into pulpits, to counterpreach and blazon the said bulls, and them which had obtained them: Therefore they shewed to the people, That from all times, exceeding all memory of any man living, Curats were in actuall and legimate possession, to take and receive tenths, oblations, obven­tions, and other fruits, and revenewes, affected and dependants to cures: And the Mendicants, contrary to ther proper profession of mendicitie, were in possession, sea­son and injoyance of Povertie, meane, and base, respectively without any trouble, hinderance, or contradiction, in the knowledge and view of all the world: And that D therefore every one ought to be maintained & guarded in his possession, without any innovation, that is, all Curates of the goods and revenewes of their cures, and Men­dicants of their Povertie and begging: and for proofe thereof, they alledged many good places, saying it was written; That man must give to Caesar that which is Caesars, and to God, that which is Gods, which is to say, that wee must needes yeeld to every man, that which belongeth unto him, to Curates tenths, & oblations, and to Mendi­cants, their begging and almes: They further said That it was reasonable, that the name should answere to the thing, and that since that Friers, Iacobines, Carmelites, & Augustines, have chosen that name of Mendicants, that really and in effect, they ought to be beggers, and not Curates; A short time would not serve, to set downe & E discover all the reasons and alligations, which the Curates preached and blazed a­broad, against the Mendicants, and the Mendicants against Curates: For neither the one nor the other, ever studied better sermons, than they did in this contestation & contention: The Curates defended themselves, by their long possession, and by the ancient and moderne cannons, which assigned them their charge of soules, & which compare them to Levites; yea even in taking their tithes: They alledged also, Non al­ligabis [Page 344] &c. that is, Thou shalt not binde the throate of the Oxe which treadeth out F the corne; and Dignus est operarius &c. that is, The workeman is worthie of his sal­larie or wages, and many other like places, which they had at their fingers ends: And to confute those Mendicants bulls, they said, they were but new come, wherwith they doe trouble the world; and that before that they were borne, the people was as well preached unto and instructed, and Masses, confessions, and other divine services as well done and exercised, as since they came into the world; & that they had nothing in them, but bable and certaine subtilty, wherewith they brought the people asleepe, and persuaded them, that they are learned, although they know nothing; and that they are full of hipocrisie and simulation, making an outward profession of Pover­tie, yet tending in effect to no other end, but to have and heape up goods and reve­newes. They moreover said, that it was a mortall sinne, to give any thing to these G Mendicants (unles some few bribes and almesses) because that they which gave them either silver or possessions, or rents, or revenues, made them to be condemned in hell, by causing them to breake their vow of Povertie, and by making them breake their rules, which they had sworne to observe. And that they which are the cause, that any other doth any evill and sinne, are as culpable, as hee that doth it. The Mendicants to the contrary, alledged their Apostolicall bulls, and the Popes power, and said, It was an heresie heresie one of the greatest, and most insupportable that could be in the world, to say, That the said bulls ought to have no place; because that was as much, as to re­voke into doubt the high & unmeasurable power of the great vicar of God: and that H they which preach against the said Apostolicall bulls, should feele the smart of it. They also tooke the places of scripture before alledged, Non alligabis, Et dignus est mercenarius &c. saying, that they formally made for them; for they were the true ox­en which treade out the graine, & the true workemen which travaile in divine service: and that they say more Masses in a moneth in one of their covents, than there is said in all the cures of Paris in a yeere: and that for one man and one woman, which those Curates confesse, they confesse an hundreth, and for one body, which the Cu­rates burie, they burie an hundred, and therefore, for Curates to alledge these places, they cut but themselves, with their owne knives: And as for their sermons (said they) these masters Curates will bee so proud, to compare them with ours. Doe not all I men see, that commonly they can doe nothing, but at the Offertorie, speake a few words, which they have learned by heart from their master, to get their offrings in? Doe they not likewise see, that every one mocks them, because of their ignorance & evill life, and that commonly there is no good play, that hath not a Curate in it? But as for us, you see how wee preach (said they) in pulpits, our sermons are other manner of things, than their proemes, and there is no more comparison to be made betwixt their speeehes and our sermons, than to compare a calfe to an asse: More­over if wee should come to a disputation, to speake Latin, were these Curates to be compared unto us? the least novices in our covents, shall alwaies say a lesson, more sufficiently than these Curates, if they will but learne it: Finally, all this lent passed K in sermons, and contersermons of the said Mendicants, and Curats, all which of the one part and the other, sought to winne the peoples favour and devotion, to en­joy the fruits & revenewes of Cures: After the Lent was passed, they came to justice, for the Mendicants pursued the reception and enrowling of their bulls, entreating the court of Paris, to admit and allow them, whereupon the said Curates of Paris, formed an opposition: As the parties proceeded in their causes, they respectively [Page 344] alledged, by intendits, replies, duplications, triplications, the reasons and meanes A touched before, and farre more reasons, which touched the quicke: But the evill luck was for the Mendicants, for upon the point of their good hope, to obtaine the cause on their side, Pope Alexander died: Then the Curates beganne to oppose against them, that the said bulls, had no force nor vigour in them, unlesse they were confir­med by Pope Iohn the foure and twentie of that name, successor of the said Alex­ander: The Mendicants (much grieved heereat) sought to obtaine a confirmation, but could not: For the Curates got before them, insomuch as the poore Mendicants seeing themselves out of hope, to obtaine the reception and enrowling of their said bulls, resolved to leave the pursute thereof, and the Iacobines first left the cause, and the others consequently: So that the Curates were maintained diffinitively, in the B possession and enjoyance of their cures, and of the revenewes depending thereunto: and the Mendicants were maintained in their possession and season of their beggery, with expresse inhibitions (accorded by the consent of the said Curates) not to trou­ble nor molest them in any sort, and each to beare his part of the law charges.

These Mendicants seeing themselves fixed & fastened to their Povertie, more than ever, tooke it with the best patience they could possibly, for so were they forced to do: Yet notwithstanding, some particulars amongst them, which were the most angry & had most credit, did so much, as they obtained for them, provisions and reservations, from the Pope, of certaine cures and other benefices, with dispensation to hould and possesse them, notwithstanding their vow of Povertie: The abovesaid Curates of C France, fearing the consequence, made their complaints to king Charles the sixt, then raigning: The king by the advice of his Counsell, made an ordinance, in the yeere 1413, wherein hee much praiseth the rules of the Mendicants founders, in that by them it is ordained, that they ought to live in Povertie and Mendicitie, without having any thing in common or in particular, saying that such an ordinance is both salutarie and good: And that Povertie is so annexed to the Monachall profession of Mendicants, that the Pope himselfe cannot separate them: which considered, hee forbiddeth expreslie, that none shall have regard to the said provisions, obtained by any Mendicants upon cures or other benefices, and if any bee in possession, that hee bee taken out, and they which are not yet received, that none should receive them in: D And commanded all baylifes, stewards, and other officers of the realme, not to suffer so pernitious, yea so superstitious a thing to have place, but rigorously to punish such as stand against this ordinance, notwithstanding all bulls, provisions, and dispensati­ons of the people, to the contrarie: So that by this, the kings ordinance, the Mendi­cants were more strongly tyed to the possession and enjoyance of their Povertie and beggerie, as well in generall as particular, this happened at the pursute of the said Curates, their adversaries.

But yet a strange case it is, that the passions and hatred of men, should bee such, as they have no end: The said Mendicants were so farre from contentment at this ordinance, that they bare great mallice to all Curates, yea the one beheld the o­thers, E with an evill eye, and could not hould themselves from reciprocall detractions, and evill speaches, and from blazing on another in pulpits, taxing the abuses and he­resies one of another, and describing one anothers marchandize. When Pope Six­tus the fourth, came to his papacie, in the yeere 1472, the Mendicants became very proude, because hee was a fryer minor, and waxed insolent and audatious against Curates, assuring themselves that the Pope would support them in all things: The [Page 346] Curates then not beeing able to suffer the detractions, skoulding and insolences of F these Mendicants, complained to the Pope, who could doe no lesse than seeke to ac­cord them: For this effect hee deputed foure Cardinals (that is) the Cardinall of Hostia, of Praeneste, and of S. Peter ad Vincula, and of S. Sixtus to heare the diffe­rences of the said Curates and Mendicants, and in quietest manner to compound them: The Cardinalls heard the parties in their alligations, and did so much with them, as they submitted themselves to their finall judgement: After this to set a firme Cap. 2. De Tre [...]ga, & pace in ex [...]ra. Articles of peace be­twixt the Curats and the Mendi­cants. and finall peace, betwixt the said parties, they pronounced for them an amiable sen­tence, which was authorised by the Pope, in Anno 1478, and containeth the Articles following, That Curates from thence forward, should no more say, that the Mendi­cants were authors of heresies, seeing that the Faith hath beene greatlie brought to G light by them: And likewise the Mendicants shall preach no more, that parishoners are not bound to heare the parochiall Masse, of their Curate on Sundaies, and so­lemne feasts, seeing that by the Cannons, they are thereunto restrained and obliged. Item that neither the one nor the other, shall any more sollicit persons to chuse a sepulchre in their churches, but shall leave it at the free election of every man. Item that the said Mendicants, shall preach no more, that the parishioners are not bound to confesse themselves to their owne Curates, at the least at Easter, since that by right they are bound thereunto, and that every good parishioner, ought to make his Easter, with his owne Curate, without any thing derogating by that article, from the priveledge which Mendicants have to heare confessions, and to enjoyne pennance, H to confessed and repentants. Item that the Mendicants, in their actions of preach­ing, of saying Mattins, and ringing their Bells, doe not enterprise upon the houres that Curates say their service, unlesse it bee by the consent of the parties. Item, that the Mendicants shall no more turne away persons and parishioners from their pa­rish Masses, neither shall Curates take away the devotion of parishioners, from the Mendicants, but rather aide and succour them. Behold in summe the articles of this peace, and arbitrarie sentence betwixt the Mendicants and Curates, which the Pope Sixtus greatly approved, and generallie exhorred them all to concord and union, in the name and as Vicker of him, who said Pacem meam do vobis, Pacem meam relin­quo vobis, I give you my peace, I leave you my peace: By which articles of the said I arbitriall sentence is seene, how these Curates and Mendicants publikelie blamed one another: And all this proceeded not but from the ardent zeale they all had, not to the edification of the people, but to have their offrings and oblations: for since that time, they could so well manage and deale, with the poore ignorant world, that they made them give them whatsoever they would, especially such as were sick, when they were at confession, and demanded absolution from purgatorie and hell, they would never absolve them, unlesse they gave to their Covents and churches, what­soever they desired.

This conclusion heere is also cleane contrarie to the Maxime of Machiavell, That Povertie cannot be a cause to hould a people in peace and obedience, seeing it K was cause of so many discords and disientions, even amongst them, which made pro­fession thereof, and which constituted their perfection therein: By this discourse also wee may note, the sanctitie of Mendicants (wherewith this poore world hath beene so much ravished) which from the beginning of their birth in this world, have rai­sed up so many riots and strifes against Curats, & all for the paunch: For they begun and florished, in the time of Pope Gregorie the ninth, Anno 1230, which Pope was Platina in Gregorie 9. [Page 347] then much troubled with resolving the hard points about their Povertie; & amongst A other points resolved them, That it ought to be understood, not only in the abdica­tion of all proprietie to particulars, but also to the generall, as Pope Nicholas reci­teth it in his abovesaid Decretall: For that of Pope Gregorie is not found printed in the bodie of the Cannon law, as the others are, whereof before we have made men­tion. But herein is no great losse, no not though all the Cannon law were lost with it: For although some thing be good in it, yet the most of it is good for nothing but to maintaine wickednesse, abuses, and Romanish superstitions, that it were expedient to burie that little good in it, so that all the evill might bee choaked with it: For from hence there is come into the world infinite (both spirituall and corpo­rall) calamities. B

33. Maxime. C

‘A Prince which feareth his subiects, ought to build fortresses in his coun­trey, to hold them in obedience.’

THe Prince (saith Machiavell) vvho hath more feare of his owne Discourse lib. 2. cap. 24. & cap. 20. of the prince. people, than of strangers, must build Fortresses: but hee that doubteth strangers more than subiects, needeth not: For the best Fortresse that is, is not to be evill beloved of subiects, and if a prince be once evill beloved of his people, there is no Fortresse can save him. D True it is, that Fortresses may bee profitable to a prince in time of peace, to give more courage to him and to his Governours, establi­shed in them, to hould the people in subiection, and to use against them greater audacitie and rigour: But yet this shall be but vveake as­surance, unlesse the prince have meanes to raise up a good and strong armie, to tame his subiects, if they vvill needs rebell: For to thinke to tame them by reducing them to povertie, Spoliatis arma supersunt: Armes remaine yet to the unarmed. Also to unarme them, Furor arma ministrat: Furie administreth armes inough. Likewise, to slay the cheefe E heads of the people, more heads vvould arise, as of the Hydra. The Sforces builded the castle at Millaine, vvhich done, they iudged, that by the means of that Fortresse they might vvith assurance handle their subiects at their pleasure, and therefore spared no kind of violence: in­somuch [Page 348] as they acquired the hatred and evill vvill of their subiects, F vvhich vvas the cause that the French, their enemies, caried away Mil­laine at the first assault, and the Sforces had no good by their fortresse, but vvere spoiled of all the dutchie.

ALthough Machiavell have not dealt with the art of tyrannie Machiavell hath hādled all the parts of the art of tyrannie. in his writings by a methode, yet hath hee not left behind, any part of that art: For first he hath handled, How a tyrannie ought to be builded, that is, by crueltie, perfidie, craft, perjurie, impi­etie, revenges, contempt of counsell and friends, entertaine­ment G of flatterers, tromperie, the hatred of vertue, covetous­nesse, inconstancie, and other like vices, whereby hee hath de­monstrated, that men must ascend as by degrees to come unto a soveraigne wickednesse. Secondly, hee hath shewed how one ought to bee maintai­ned and conserved in that high degree of wickednesse and tyrannie, namely, by main­taining amongst subjects partialitie and seditions, and in holding them in povertie and necessitie. Now he yet addeth another mean, namely, to build Fortresses against his subjects, as by making in good townes, citadels, and by building forts upon brid­ges and common passages, and other like castles and fortresses: and Machiavell thinkes this meane ought to be practised, and that other aforesaid meanes are not so H sufficient, well to establish a tyrannie: For Povertie (saith he) is no sufficient meane to containe a people in obedience, for they are never unfurnished of armes: And though they should take them from them, and should sley their cheefetaines, yet that would not suffice, because the anger and furie of the people would furnish them with sufficient armes, and that cheefetaines would arise unto them, like Hydra her heads.

But I will not stay long in the confutation of this Maxime, but onely I will say this, That experience makes us wise, and that the invention of Citadels (which in our time princes have builded against their subjects) hath been cause of infinit evils: For all commerce and traffique hath been and is greatly diminished in townes, where I they have been builded, and there have beene and are committed infinit insolencies by souldiors against citizens; and there neither hath come nor will come to princes which have builded them, other good than great expences and evill will of their subjects: For this construction of Citadels, is an apparent shew, that the prince tru­steth not his subjects, but especially, when they are builded any other where, than in the limits and borders of kingdomes and countries against strangers. When the sub­jects know that their prince distrusteth them, they also esteeme, that hee loveth them not. And when the subject is not beloved of his prince, he cannot also love him, and not loving him, hee obeyes him not, but as constrained, and in the end will get his head out of the yoke, as soone as there will fall out a fit occasion. Here is the profite K of Citadels.

Yet I will say this by the way, That our Machiavelists of Fraunce, which were authors and enterprisers of the massacres of S. Bartholmew, read not well this place The Machi­avelists of France, doe not alwayes follow their master. of Machiavell, which wee come to alledge: For they said, That men must not stay upon fishing for froggs, but men must catch in their nets the great Salmons, & that one Salmons head was more worth than tenne thousand froggs; and that when they [Page 349] had slaine the cheefetaines of pretended rebels, that they should easily overthrow A the rude and rascally multitude, which without heads could enterprise nothing. These venerable enterprisers should have considered that which here their Doctor Machiavell saith (which also since they have seen by experience) That a people can­not want heads, which will alwayes rise up, yea, even those heads which bee slaine. If they had so well noted & practised this place of Machiavell, as they do others, so much blood would never have ben shed, & their tyrannie it may be had longer endu­red than it hath done: For the great effusion of blood, which they have made, hath incontinent cried for vengeance to God, who (according to his accustomed justice) hath heard the voice of that blood: and for the crie of the orphant and widdow, hath laid the axe to the root of all tyrannie, and alreadie hath cut away many braun­ches B thereof, and (if it please him) will not tarry long to lay all on the ground, and so establish Fraunce in his auncient government.

As for Fortresses in frontiers of countries, they have been long time practised, and are profitable to guard from incursions and invasions of enemies, and to the end such as dwell upon the borders, may the more peaceably enjoy their goods. Wee reade, That the emperour Alexander Severus gave his Fortresses upon frontiers, to Lamprid. in Alex. Pomp. Laetus in Con­stant. Magno. good and approoved captaines, with all the lands and revenewes belonging unto them, to enjoy during their lives: to the end (saith Lampridius) that they might be more vigilant and carefull to defend their owne. And afterward, the emperour Con­stantine the Great ordained, That the said Fortresses, with their grounds and reve­newes, C should passe to the heires of the said captaines, which held them as other manner of goods and heritages. And hereupon (some say) have come such, as the civile law call Feudi.

34. Maxime. D

‘A Prince ought to commit to another those affaires which are subiect to hatred and envie, and reserve to himselfe such as depend upon his grace and favour.’

A Prince vvhich vvill exercise some cruell and rigorous act (saith cap. 7. & 14. of a prince. M. Nicholas) he ought to give the commission thereof unto E some other; to the end, he may not acquire evill vvill and enmi­tie by it. And yet if he feare, that such a delegation cannot bee vvholly exempted from blame (to have consented to the execution which was made by his Commissarie) he may cause the Commissarie to be slaine, [Page 350] to shew that he consented not to his crueltie, as did Caesar Borgia, and F Messire Remiro Dorco.

THis Maxime is a dependancie of that goodly doctrine, which Ma­chiavell learned of Caesar Borgia (which although it was very cru­ell) yet meaning to appeare soft and gentle, following therein the Maxime which enjoyneth dissimulation, committeth the executi­on of his crueltie to Messire Remiro Dorco, as at large before wee have discoursed that hystorie. And because we have fully shewed, that all dissimulation and feignednesse is unworthie of a prince, we will stay no lon­ger G upon this Maxime: Well will I confesse, that many things there be which seeme to be rigorous in execution (although they be most equall and just) which it is good a prince doe commit to others, to give judgement and execution by justice, as the case meriteth: For as the emperour Marcus Antonine said, It seemeth to the world, that that which the prince doth, hee doth it by his absolute authoritie and power, ra­ther than of his civile and reasonable power. Therefore to shun that blame and sus­pition, it is good that the prince delegate and set over such matters to Iudges, which are good men, not suspected nor passionate, not doing as the emperour Valentinian did, who would never heare nor receive accusations against Iudges and Magistrates, which hee had established, but constrained the recusators or refusers, to end their H cause before those Iudges only: Whereby he was much blamed, and his honor im­peached and disgraced: For truly, the cheefe point which is required to cause good Passionate Iudges can­not judge well. justice to be administred, is, That Iudges be not suspected nor passionat: because the passions of the soule and heart doe obfuscate and trouble the judgement of the un­derstanding, and cause them to step aside and stray out of the way. It is also a thing of very evill example, when a prince with an appetite of revenge, or to please the passions of revengefull great men, dooth elect Iudges and Commissaries that bee passionate, and which have their consciences at the command of such as employ them: As was done in the time of king Lewis Hutin, in the judgement of Messire Enguerrant de Marigni great master of Fraunce; and in the time of king Charles I the sixt, in the judgement of the criminall processe of Messire Iean de Marests, the kings Advocate in the parliament of Paris: And a man may put to them the judge­ments given in our time against Amie du Bourg, the kings Counsellor in the said parliament, and against captaine Briquemand, and M. Arnand de Cavagnes, master of the Requests of the kings houshold, and against the countie de Mont­gomerie, and many others: For the executions to death, which followed, manifested well, That the Iudges were pas­sionate men, their consciences being at the command of strangers, which governed K them.

35. Maxime. A

‘To administer good Iustice, a Prince ought to establish a great number of Judges. B’

TO have prompt and quicke expedition of good Iustice (saith Machiavell) many Iudges must be established, for few can dis­patch Discourse lib. 1. cap. 7. few causes, and a small number is more easie to gaine and be corrupted, than a great number: And vvithall, a great number is strong and firme in Iustice against all men.

EXperience hath made us wise in France, that this Maxime of Ma­chiavell is not true: For since they multiplied the Officers of Iu­stice C Multiplici­tie of Offi­cers. cause of the cor­ruption of [...]ustice in Fraunce. in the kingdome, by the encrease of Counsellours in parlia­ments, by erection of Presidents seats, by creation of new or alter­native Officers, we have processes and law causes more multiplied, longer and worse dispatched than before: insomuch, as by good right and by good reason the last Estates generall held at Orleance, complained to king Charles the ninth, of that multiplication and multitude of Officers, which ser­ved not (as it doth not yet) but to multiplie law causes, to ruinate and eat up the peo­ple, and yet no better expedition of Iustice than before, but rather worse and notori­ously more long and of greater charges to the parties. Vpon which complaint it was holily ordained, That offices of Iustice, which became vacant by death, should bee D suppressed, and that none should come in their place, untill these Offices were redu­ced to their auncient number, as it was in the time of king Lewis the twelfth. And by the same meanes it was also ordained, That the said Offices should be no more sold, but conferred and bestowed by the king (at the nomination of men, notable and of qualitie in every place) to persons having good reputation of honestie, and whose abilitie in knowledge shall bee examined extemporally, at the opening of a booke before their reception. But the Machiavelists have rased and quashed these two arti­cles; The Machiavelists have made deare Offices in France. the last, to have silver for the sale of Offices; and the first, to bring foyson and a­bundance of marchandize: for the greater number there are of Offices, so much the better is the trafficke and commerce, because there are every day more times of respite, whereof to make money. And wee must not thinke, that the abundance of E Offices hath brought a low prise & cheapnesse to their marchandize: For contrary, it hath made them dearer by a third or halfe within this tenne yeares: insomuch, as an Office of a Counsellor in a parliament, which was not wont to cost past three or foure thousand Franks, will now cost two or three thousand crownes of the Sunne: And the Offices of Presidents and Procurers Generall (which were not woont to be [Page 352] sold) are within this little time sold, as all other Offices, at the tax and price of tenne, F twelve, fourteene, yea, twentie thousand franks, according as they are, and according to the greatnesse of the parliaments: For they are not all at one price. But I pray you upon whom do our Machiavelists of France bestow these Offices; upon beasts or ambitious men? For learned men will not buy them, if they be not drawne on by ambition; but they had rather be reputed (as Cato said, being put by the Praetorship, which he demanded) worthie to be Presidents or Counsellors, than to be so in effect, by the price of silver. As for them which are beasts and ignorant, they have some rea­son to make provision for that marchandize, to get whereof to live, and pay their debts: otherwise should they die for hunger, or els bee despised and pointed at with the finger, for that by reason of their ignorance they shall be employed in no affairs G of Iustice, and shall have no practise. And truly, these be they, which within this lit­tle time have made this kind of marchandize so deare: For because they are in great number, thy run thither fast, with great desire to have: Which is the cause, that the Machiavellists seeing so many marchants to arrive, so exceeding eager to buy, doe hold up without all reason the price of their marchandize, and will by no meanes de­part with it, but to him that offereth most. But I will not here stay to dispute against these buyers and sellers: For I am of opinion, that all their processes shall bee made at the first Estates that are holden.

By the resolution then of the Estates of Orleance, it is seene, That this Maxime of Machiavell was reprooved and condemned, and that it is neither good nor pro­fitable H for the commonwealth, that there should bee a great number of Officers of lustice, but that it were better there were a meane number of them: And this might easily be judged and knowne by naturall reason. For the prince which shall establish a great number of Officers to administer Iustice, either he must make a multiplici­tie of degrees of Officers, or he must establish many in one same degree. If he make many degrees of Officers, then Iustice shall be longer, and more prolonged and per­nitious: because they which plead, must passe through the hands of many Officers, by many instances from one degree to another. And therefore it is evident, that the multiplicitie of Officers in degree, cannot bee but domageable and pernitious. If the prince make a multitude of Officers in one same degree (as was done in Fraunce I when Presidiall seats were instituted, when new Counsellors of parliament were ad­ded to the old, and when many lieutenants and other Officers were new created) the great number will not cause Iustice to bee better nor more promptly ministred: but contrarie, shall bee the cause of great charge and procrastination: For much time goes away, whilest many Iudges are gathered together to one place, to reason one after another, and after, as saith the Proverbe:

Affaires to many committed,
Are alwayes carelesly regarded.

Moreover, suters alwayes desire with their owne mouthes to informe the Iudge of K the principall points of their cause, fearing something should bee left out, either by negligence or too much hast. And withall, which is said in a common proverb, That the lively voice toucheth better than the writing, and better engraveth a thing in the spirits of men. This desire of the parties, to cause the Iudge well to understand their right, is not reprehensible, but just and reasonable, and which ought not to be denied [Page 353] them: yet in the meane time the multiplicitie and great number of Iudges, maketh A this point very difficult and uneasie: For men have not so soone spoken to all, and finding one, he straight finds not another: Moreover, if the matter to judge, be easie and without difficultie, wherefore serves it to assemble a great sort of Iudges, to de­cide the cause, since one alone can as well dispatch it, as many? And withall, that one alone can rid more matters in his studie in a day or two, than an assembly can doe in a moneth: For a man may labour his cause at all houres, in the morning, all the day, at night by candle light, on holy dayes and working dayes, whereas the bodie of an assemblie will not travailene sit but certaine houres, and on certaine daies. If the matter to be judged be difficult & hard, it may seeme at the first, that many can bet­ter judge of it than one alone: because many eyes see clearer than one eye alone: B and withall, there is not so great appearance of corruption in many, as in one alone: But for these difficulties, there are other easier provisions than by multiplication of Officers: For there needs but good consideration to establish in every subalterne seat, one Officer alone, which were a good man, of good knowledge, and well stipen­ded: For being a just man, and well stipended, he will not be easily corrupted, lesse a great deale (it may bee) than a great number of such as are at this day: and beeing learned, and of good knowledge, hee will easily resolve difficulties: withall also in a case of difficultie he may take for an assessor some one of the most sufficient Advo­cates of his seat, & privatly heare in his studie the parties and their Counsell; & up­on their hearing, to resolve of the difficultie in deed and in right, yea, he himselfe with C wise inspection into all things with the helpe of his bookes, may dispatch and rid himselfe out of all difficulties, being learned and of good judgement, as he had need be. Moreover, inferiour Iudges can hardly judge evill, unlesse they erre either in Fact or Right: from which they shall guard themselves, if supreme Iudges performe well their duties, by not sparing the personall adjornaments against such as by grosse ig­norance doe erre in Right, or which by the negligent inspection into their causes, do erre in Fact. And assuredly, if such Iudges have good Censors, which will marke their faults, and will reproove and correct them, Iustice shall bee as well administred by one alone in every inferiour seat, as by many. But our soveraigne Iudges are glad of the faults of their inferiours: For their evill judgements brings the greater pra­ctise D unto them, to fill their purses, to pay for their Offices, to glut their avarice, and to furnish the unmeasurable pompes of themselves and their wives. So that to Iu­stice, the same happeneth which dooth to an humane bodie: For when the head is whole, it will purvey and provide for the necessities and maladies of the members, and seeke out all things fit for that purpose: but when the head is diseased, all the members feele it: So the corruption which is in parliaments, makes, that all Iustice in inferiour courts, is depraved and corrupted.

I resolve then against the saying of Machiavell, That it were better, that ther were but one person, in every estate or degree of inferior justice, than a great multiplici­tie of Officers: but my meaning is not, to stretch this unto soveraigne Iustice, but E contrarie, I thinke that it is good and necessarie, that judgement bee executed by more than one person; namely, by a meane number of good, and well chosen men: For a judgement given by a notable companie, hath more waight and gravi­tie (as a soveraigne judgement ought to have) than that which comes from one a­lone: Also because a soveraigne judgement, may sometimes take his foundation upon the pure and simple equitie (which sometimes directly repugneth the locall [Page 354] customes, ordinances, and lawes written) it is good and necessarie, that equitie F bee juged to bee equitie, by the braine and judgement of many: and it is not meete, that one alone should take upon him, that great licence, to depart from authentike and received lawes, to follow his owne opinion, which hee will call equitie: For that should bee as it were, to give power to every particular Iudge, to judge after his fan­tasie, against received and approoved right, and so to suffer to passe under the name of equitie, huge iniquitie. Since then none may easily and without great reason, de­part from received and approoved lawes, it followeth that none may easily also in­duce an equitie, against the said lawes, unlesse to induce it, hee use great and delibe­rate consideration and examination, and doe well ponder the circumstances & con­sequences, by a good and experimented judgement, which one alone cannot doe, except hee bee of some exceeding invention, knowledge, and experience, and of a G good and sound judgement, such a one as can hardly bee found: Therefore it is much better, to commit to many (not to every one, but unto such as are well chosen) that power to induce equitie against received lawes, than to one alone: Besides this, it appertaineth unto soveraigne judges, to examine the new edicts and lawes of prin­ces, to marke and note, if there be any thing hard in them, which it were good to mi­tigate and lenifie; which they must either themselves doe, before they allow or di­vulge them, or else must they signifie to the prince, a cause why they approove them not. This, one alone can never so well doe, as many (how great and wise so ever hee bee) because the spirit of one man alone, is not capable, to see and comprehend all the particular cases, which may bee applied to the matter of an edict, neither in me­morie H or cogitation can hee comprehend, whatsoever absurditie, incommodity, or iniquitie, can bee in a law. But many, casting and discoursing in their mindes every thing, one foreseeing one thing, and another another, by examining and disputing upon the matter, may the better perceive and comprehend the law, and inconveni­ences thereof. For it is not to bee doubted, but that by the dispute of learned and sufficient men (which doe examine by a good judgement, reasons contrarie, likely, conjuncts and adjuncts of every thing) may farre better, comprehend the difficul­ties and in commodities of a edict, than by the reasoning of one alone. The manner which the Romanes anciently observed, in the making of new lawes, shewes this, for they which proposed and preferred them, were commonly men of good spirit, great I judgement, and experience in the affaires of the common weale; but yet every man (great and small) was heard to contradict that law which was proposed, yea some­times it was found, and often, that a base person, of small estimation, which had nei­ther great knowledge nor experience, yet hath noted in that law, absurdities and in­conveniences, which were causes of rejection, or at the least of moderating and cor­recting it. Againe for that soveraigne judges, are as it were censors and correctors of of inferior judges, it is very requisit, that they bee many in number: because it will seeme hard for a magistrate to bee corrected by one alone, unto whom (it may be) hee would not give place in any thing, either in good knowledge or experience: Fi­nally, because corruption is more to be feared in soveraigne judges, which have none K above them to correct their faults, than in subalterne and inferiors, who themselves may bee corrected; therefore it is requisit that soveraigne judges bee in number, for many are more uneasie to bee corrupted, than one alone: I confesse then, in the soveraigne degree of justice of a prince, it is good and expedient, that hee have a sufficient number of persons, to exercise it, provided alwaies, the number be not too [Page 355] great, and unbrideled, for the qualitie is therein more requisit than the quantitie. The A like is, to bee of the kings Counsell, where it is good and requisit, there bee many heads, as we have said in another place. For confirmation of my saying, I will alledge no other thing, than the example of our ancestors: For in the time, and before king Lewis the twelfth, inferior Officers were not many in one seate and degree of justice, for there was but one in every seate thereof, to administer it; namely a Provost, or or­dinarie judge, in the first degree; a lieutenant generall, or bayliffe (as they call him) or steward in the second degree; but in soveraigne courts of Parliaments, and the great Counsell, they were many, yet not in so great number, as they bee at this day.

But seeing wee are in hand with meanes to establish a good justice, I will touch therein some small points, which I have marked in histories. Wee must then presup­pose, B Good Iu­stice con­sisteth in good lawes and good Magistrates that to cause good Iustice to bee administred, a prince must needes have good lawes, and create good Magistrates and Officers: As for lawes some concerne the decision of matters, and other the formalitie of processe: Touching such as concerne the decision of matters, it seemeth well that there hath beene sufficiently provided, by the locall custome of every countrey, and by the right or law written: Well might it bee desired, that the doctrines of the docters of the civile, and cannon law, were well chosen, and the good set a part and authorised: For though in judgements wee can hardlie lacke them, yet are they so confused, and wrapped with contrarie opini­ons, that they which hope to finde in the doctors gloses and commentaries the solu­tion of some doubtfull question, doe often fall into inexplicable laborinthes, and for C treasure doe finde coales: Which would not come to passe, if the good doctrines which often come in use, and which are founded upon reason and equitie, were sepa­rated and distinguished from the troupe and mixture of those doctors writings. And touching lawes, which concerne the formalitie and conduction of processe and li­tigations, it seemes to mee, there hath beene sufficient provision in France, by Roy­all ordinances: But it seemes not to bee sufficient, that a prince make good lawes, well and rightly to conduct and leade, to the end, the processes and contentions of subjects: but it wil bee very requisit and necessarie, that hee make lawes to prohibit and hinder, the birth of these processes and contentions; for otherwise good Iustice and readie expedition of causes, shall indirectly serve for an occasion to increase and D multiplie, because men will bee made prompt and voluntarie to move actions, when they are assured to have speedie and good Iustice: So that to shunne this, and to make that the thing which of it selfe is good and holy, bee neither cause nor occasi­on of evill, it shall bee (as I have said) very requisit to have good lawes, to hinder the birth and originall of contentions, wherein it seemes to mee, that the said Royall ordinances are defectuous and maimed: So is there great neede of some Licurgus or Solon, to make those said laws, mens wits are so wilde, and their spirits so mervaisously plentifull and fertill, to bring forth contentions and differences, and so easily to dis­cent one from another: yet notwithstanding I thinke not that it is impossible, some­thing though not altogether, to represse this arising, and secunditie of law cau­ses, E but because it will bee too long now to discourse, wee will reserve it for ano­ther time.

But it is nothing to have good lawes, if there bee not withall good magistrates, for their execution: for the magistrate, is the soule of the law, who gives it force, vi­gour, action, and motion, and without whom the law is but a dead, and an unprofi­table thing. A good magistrate then is a most excellent thing, yea the most excel­lent [Page 356] in the world, yea he is a very rare thing, at the least in his time: yet might there F bee sufficient in a mediocritie, if they were well chosen and sought for: But now the first that payeth most is received, without any care to chuse the fittest: Dion writeth, That the emperor Caius Caligula, had an horse called Velocissimus, which he so much loved, that he made him often to dine and sup at his table, and caused him to be ser­ved with barley in a great vessell of gold, and with wine in great caldrons of gold al­so: Not contented thus, to honour his Velocissmus, hee determined with himselfe to advance him unto estates and offices, and to the goverment of the commonwealth, Caligula would make his horse a con­sul of Rome and so resolved to make him Consull of Rome, and had done it (saith Dion) if hee had not beene prevented by death. The Machiavellistes of this time, which reade this in Dion, can well say, that this was an act of a sencelesse and mad man, to give such an estate to a beast: Yet doe they finde it good at this day, to give estates to as G sencelesse beasts, & more dangerous than Velocissimus was: for (if the worst had falne) if Velocissimus had beene created Consull of Rome, hee could have done no other harme to the commonwealth, nor to particulars, unlesse it had beene a blow with his foote, to such as had saluted him too nigh; but hee would never have made any extortions, pillings, or other abuses, which the beasts of our time commit, which are placed in Offices: And this is it which Horace saith, That wee mocke him which is evill favouredly powled, and him that weareth a rent shirt under a silke coate, or Epist. 1. lib. 1 that hath his gowne on the one side long, and on the other, short: but he is not moc­ked, who wasteth great goods riotouslie, who overthroweth right, and committeth infinit sinnes and abuses in his charge, men will peradventure say hee doth evill, but H not that hee ought to bee punished.

How many Offices bee there in France, more fit for Velocissimus, than for them which hould them: And that which is least perilous, every man doth laughat, but this which is most dangerous to a commonweale, no man dare so much as say, it ought to bee amended, much lesse corrected: For there is a simple beastlinesle and igno­rance, and a malitious beastlinesse and ignorance: The simple ignorance is like to that of Velocissimus, which can doe neither good nor evill, but malitious beastlinesse and ignorance, is a beastly ignorance of all good and right things, but of a great capacitie to hould all vices and wickednesse, such as our Machiavellistes: If then a man must needes choose one of the two; who sees not that it were more expedi­ent I to choose a simple beastlinesse? Can any then denie, but it were better to have for a magistrate Velocissimus, than some of our Machiavellists, or our Office-chea­tors, which comes by retaile, unto that which they bought in grosse.

But the prince, who resolves with himselfe, to establish good Magistrates (with­out which, hee can have no good justice, though his lawes bee the best in the world) he must consider and note many things, both in particular persons, and in bodies in generall: for hee should take notice what an office it is, for which hee should pro­vide an officer, and accordingly seeke a person whose vertue and sufficiencie may be Proportion geometri­call to bee observed in providing of Officers. Aristo. lib. 1. Ethniks. correspondent and equall unto the functions of that estate: For a farre greater suffi­ciencie is required in a President, than in a Counsellor; and in a Councellor, than K in an inferiour Iudge; and in a Iudge, than in a Chatellaine or castle guarder: Heere it is, where ought to bee observed the Geometricall proportion whereof Aristotle speaketh, by giving to the most fittest and sufficientest, the greatest estate, & to them which are meanely fit, meane offices, and estates, and the least, to such as are least suf­ficient: This it is, which Fabius Maximus shewed to the Romane people, when they [Page 357] would needs create Consulls, two yong lords, that is, Titus Octacilius (Fabius his A nephew) & Aemilius Regillus, when Anniball made warre in Italie: ‘Masters (said hee) if wee had peace in Italie, or that wee had warre heere, against a lesser captaine than Anniball, so that there were place to amend and correct a fault, when it were made, wee would not hould him well advised, that would hinder your election, and as it were withstand your libertie: But in this warre against Anniball, wee have made no fault, but it hath cost us a great and perillous losse, therefore am I of advice that you doe elect Consulls, which match Anniball: For as wee would, that our people of warre were stronger than our enemies; so ought wee to wish, that our heads and cheefetaines of warre, were equall to them of our enemies: Octacilius is my nephew, who espoused my sisters daughter, and hath children by her, so that I have cause to B desire his advancement: But the commonwealthes utilitie is more deere unto mee.’ And withall, that no other hath greater cause than my nephew, not to charge himselfe with a waight, under which hee should fall. The Romane people found his reasons good, therefore revoked their election, and by a new suffrage elected Fabius himselfe, and gave him for a companion, Marcellus, which assuredly were two great and sage captaines.

This rule to elect magistrates equall to every charge, above all ought to bee well practised in the election of soveraigne judges, for after they have judged, if they have committed a fault, it cannot but very hardly be repaired: so that the reason which Fa­bius alledged, having place in the election of soveraigne judges, the provision which C followed it, meriteth well to bee drawne into an example and consequence, for the good and utilitie of the princes subjects.

The particular qualities, required in a Magistrate, cannot better nor more briefe­ly Particular qualities required in a Magistrate bee described, than by the counsell, which Iethro gave to Moses: For hee advised him, to elect people fearing God, true and hating covetousnesse: Surely this coun­sell is very briefe for words, but in substance it comprehendeth much. For first, the Magistrate which shall feare God, will advise to exercise his Office, in a good con­science Exod. cap. 18. and after the commandements of God, and above all things will seeke, that God bee honoured and served, according to his holy will, and will punish [...]uch as do the contrary. If the Magistrate feare God, hee will love his neighbour as himselfe, D because God so willeth, and by consequent he will guard himselfe from doing (in the exercise of his estate) any thing against his neighbor, which he would not should be done against himselfe: Briefely hee will in a booke (as it were) write all his actions, to make his account to that great Lord and master, whose feare hee hath in him. Se­condly, if the Magistrate bee veritable, and a lover of truth, it will follow that in the exercise of his Office, as well in civile, as criminall matters, hee will alwaies seeke out the truth, and shut his eares to impostures and lies of calumniators and slanderers, which is no small vertue, wherein Iudges often erre. Also, a magistrate that loveth truth by consequent, shall bee of sufficiencie, knowledge, and capacitie, to exercise his estate: for Ignorance and Truth are no companions, because Truth is no other thing but light, and Ignorance darkenesse. And for the last point, If the Magistrate E hate covetousnesse, hee will not onely guard himselfe from practising it, but also he will correct it in others: and by cutting of this detestable vice (the root of all evill) he shall keepe downe all other vices, which be like rivers proceeding from this cursed and stinking spring. And as wee see, that the covetousnesse of wicked magistrates is cause of the length of law causes, because they have a desire, that the parties which [Page 358] plead before them, should serve their turnes (as they say) as a cow for milke; where­by F it followeth, that the poore people are pilled, and eaten even to the bones, by those horseleaches: Also contrarie, when the Magistrate hateth covetousnesse, hee will dispatch and hasten Iustice to parties, and not hould them long in law, neither pill and spoile them; a thing bringing great comfort and help to the people: Briefely then, if these three qualities which Iethro requireth in Magistrates and Officers of Iustice, were well considered by the prince, in such sort, as he would receive none into an Office of Iustice, who feared not God, loved not veritie, and hated covetousnesse, certainelie Iustice would bee better administred, to his great honour, and the utilitie of his subjects.

I will not say, that amongst the Paynims, there were Magistrates, which had the G true feare of God, for none can have that, without knowing him, and none can truly know him, but by his word, whereof the Paynims were ignorant; yet were there Pay­nims, which had the other two parts which Iethro required in a Magistrate. When Cato the elder was sent governour & lieutenant general for the Romanes, into the Isle Titus Livius l [...]b, 2. Dec. 4. of Sardaigne, hee found that the people of the countrey, had alreadie a custome for many yeeres before, to expend and bestow great charges at the receit, and for the honour of all the governours, which were sent from Rome; hee found also through all that countrey, a great companie of bankers and usurers, which ruinated and eate out the people by usuries: As soone as hee was arived in his goverment, he cassed and cut off this, and would not suffer them at his arrivall, to bee at any charge for his H entertainment: Hee also drave out of the countrey at once, all the said bankers and usurers, without any libertie given them to stay, upon condition to moderate their usuries, which some found hard and evill, thinking that it had beene better, to have given to these bankers and usurers, a meane to their usuries, beyond which they might not passe, than altogether to take from them the meane, to give and take mo­ney to profit, a thing seeming prejudiciall to commerce and trafficke: But so much there wanted, that Cato stayed not upon these considerations, beleeving that the per­mission of a certaine, might easilie be disguised and perverted, and that men which bee subtill in their trade, might easily in their contracting and accompting, make them lay downe eight for ten, or twelve for fifteene: Briefely Cato governed him­selfe I so in his estate and government, that the fame of his reputation, was of an holy and innocent person.

Hee was in all matters assuredly a brave man, hee was a good souldiour, a good lawyer, a good orator, cunning both in townes and in rurall affaires, proper in time Titus Liviu [...] lib. 9. Dec. 4. of peace, and as proper in time of warre, a man of severe innocencie, and who had a tongue that would spare no mans vices, even publikely to accuse them, as indeed in all his life hee never ceased to accuse vicious and evill living people, to make them bee condemned by Iustice, and especially in his age of nintie yeeres, hee accused one Sergtus Galba. This man stepped one day forward, to demaund the Office of Cen­sor, which was an Office very meete for him, because he delighted more to blame K and reprehend the vices of men, than praise their vertues: In the pursute of this Of­fice of Censor, hee had many competitors, which also demanded this estate, not so much for the desire they had to have it: For they did well forsee, that if Cato were Censor, hee would practise a rigorous Censorship, and that he would disgrade ma­ny Officers and Magistrates (as this lay in the Censors power) which were far from good. And this which feared them most, was, that Cato himselfe, as hee sued for that [Page 359] Office said openly, that if hee were chosen Censor, hee would bring to their tryall, an A heape of vitious corrupted Magistrates, and would reforme offices, by redusing them into the first forme, and disgrading inculpable and unworthie officers; and that they which opposed themselves to the pursute heereof, did it for no other cause, but be­cause they feared the touch: B [...]iefely, hee did so much that not onely hee was elected Censor, but also gave him for a companion in his Censorship Lucius Valertus, whom he demanded, because he was like humorous as himselfe. These two being Censors, they failed not to remove many out of their places, for they cassiered many Sena­tors and Magistrates, yea such as were of great houses and nobilitie: They caused their houses to bee demolished and overthrowen, which had builded on publike ground: They caused divers ponds and lakes to be paved, which were full of mudde and durt, B and to repurge all the gutters, sinkes, and jakes of the citie: They greatly heightened and raised the farmes of the commonwealth hands, which before had beene held at a low price, by persons which by complots and intelligences, had let them out farre dearer: Briefely they administred a very lowable and profitable Censorship, whereup­on Cato was surnamed Censorius. Would to God wee had at this day such men, and that princes would employ them; for the commonwealth stands in great need, so to bee purged of so many evills and corruptions, as doe infect and ruinate it.

King Charlemaine and S. Lewis may in this place serve for examples to all kings, Annales upon Anno 809. and 2253. and princes: For we reade, That these two good kings, true lovers of good Iustice per­forming the Office of good Censors, sent often in their time, commissiaries and en­questors C through all provinces, to bee informed against the abuses of Magistrates, and such as they found in fault, and did not well observe all edicts, and ordinances, they were rigorously punished: Insomuch as during their raignes, Iustice was excee­ding well administred, to the great help and comfort of the people. The prince ought also in his election of Magistrates, to advise himselfe well, to chuse officers, which in judgement will have no respect of persons: For the Magistrate ought to yeeld right egally to the poore as the rich, according to the merit of the cause, and not after the desert of persons. From the beginning of the Romane commonwealth, they had ei­ther none (or few) lawes written, to end contentions & differences amongst them, but Iudges ought to ha [...]e no acception of persons. they were ended, as seemed good to Magistrates, which alwaies gave a coulour to D their sentences, by certaine decrees and judgements, which they said had ben before given in like cases: By this palliation and deceit (saying, that they had been so before judged) they administred Iustice after their owne fantasies, yea in such sort as they al­most Dion. Halic. lib. 10. alwaies carried away the gaining of the cause: for Magistrates (which were at their command) supported and favoured them. The meanest sort of people percei­ving, that under coulour of former judgements, they were abused, and so that they al­most alwaies lost their causes, against the great men of the citie; many beganne to quarrell and complaine: Insomuch as that the Tribunes publikely proposed, that it was necessarie there were ten potentates elected, in the place of two Consuls, to administer the commonwealth, and write lawes & ordinances, wherby from thence E forward the differences and law controversies might bee decided, and not after the fantasies and former judgements of Iudges & Magistrates. The great men after their custome, opposed themselves against this. Heereupon there arose a great stirre and sedition, within the towne of Rome, which neither the Consuls nor Senate could any Good Iu­stice cause of peace, & evill, cause of Sedition. way appease: But at the new creation of Consuls, it happened that Lucius Quintius (who dwelt in the fields, in a little husbandry hee had) was elected Consul, and sent [Page 360] for to his village, where they found him at his ploughes taile, ploughing his finall F possessions: This good person was honourably brought as soveraigne Magistrate in­to the towne: as soone as hee was arrived, hee beganne to exercise his estate, and to administer justice to every man, as well poore as rich, without respect or exception of persons. He in a little time, dispatched all ould causes, which had long hanged in sus­pence, by the meanes of prorogations which rich men made: and behaved himselfe so discreet and just in the handling of all causes, as he was generally esteemed a good and equall judge. Hee abode all day in the pallace, to heare and dispatch causes, and hee gave audience to every man very patiently and benignely, and used speedie and good Iustice, to one and others indifferently, having no regard to persons, but to the merits and to the Iustice of the cause then in the question onely: By this meanes G Quintius brought to passe, that not onely the great men, were no more suspected judges to the meanest, but also Iustice was so agreeable and plausible to the people, that the sedition ceased, and all the people were appeased, so that none demanded any more to have new lawes, whereby to judge causes, but every man greatly contented himselfe, to have for a law so good and equall a judge, and Magistrate. And surely there is nothing in the world, which sooner ceaseth seditions and stirres, nor that better maintaineth publike peace and tranquilitie, than a good Iustice, admini­stred by good and equall Magistrates: But on the contrary, a wicked Iustice is of­ten cause of uproares, insurrections, and civile warres, as poore France can say at this day. H

The example of both these cases appeared certaine yeeres after Quintius was Dion. Halic. lib. 10. & 11. out of his magistracie: for they which succeeded him, had not that grace nor dex­teritie, well to administer Iustice: insomuch as the Tribunes tooke up againe their determination, to create ten Potentates, to write lawes and ordinances, after which men might bee judged in all causes: And indeede the Senate (as it were constrained) accorded to this creation, & there were chosenten Potentates, which with great deli­beration composed the lawes of the twelve Tables, which were found very good and equall: and not onely they proposed and made in publike places the said lawes, and engraved them in Tables of brasse, but which more is, they certaine times admini­stred Iustice to every man, after these lawes, with great uprightnesse and equitie: And amongst other Potentates, there was Appius Claudius, who shewed himselfe very I soft and affable to the meanest people, and heard them patientlie, and did them very good and speedie Iustice; so that the people made no account of the Tribunes, think­ing they needed not to runne unto the Tribunes for help, since Appius alone per­formed not onely the Office of a good Iudge, but also of a Tribune, to sustaine the good right of the meane people. But this good Iustice endured but a yeere: for the second yeere, the said Potentates being made to continue but for a yeere in their e­states, resolved altogether so to remaine, without ever despoiling themselves of that Office: And to gaine people to their faction, they beganne to doe Iustice cleane con­trarie to that of the first yeere, using favour and subornation, alwaies giving sentence K to the profit of them which were on their side, to sustaine their tyrannie: By this meanes they drew many persons to bee of their factions, and wrought a great par­tialitie within the towne of Rome, some houlding for the ten Potentates, others a­gainst them: But in the end their imperious and tyrannicall arrogancie towards one and others, was the cause that the partialized people accorded, and great and little set themselves all on one side against them, wherupon fell their totall ruine: insomuch [Page 361] as the first yeare of their estate, by their good Iustice they brought and maintained a A good peace in the citie: but in the second yeare, by their evill and wicked justice they reduced all into troubles and confusions within the citie.

Vnto this example of the tenne Potentates, might we compare the wicked, parti­all, and venale Iustice, which hath raigned in France since fifteene yeares (which is and hath bene the principall cause, and as it were the nurse of all troubles and sedi­tions) and that little of good Iustice which wee see to shine (as a lightening, which soone passeth away) after the first troubles in Provence, when the President de Mor­sen, and certain Counsellors were sent thither: For the little good Iustice which they did in that quarter, in so little time as they remained there, was the cause that the peo­ple of Provence (which naturally are very hot and furious) carried and guided them­selves B in the other following troubles, more modestly than any other of the French nation.

We have before said, That Quintius patiently heard all them which demaunded justice of him: which is a point, that all Iustices and Magistrates ought well to ob­serve: For according to the right of nations and of naturall equitie, none ought to be condemned without being heard. In the time that the Tarquins were chased from Rome, they underhand practised many citizens, by promises and otherwise to com­mit a treason to the commonwealth, and to establish Tarquin the Proud in his estate. The corrupted citizens procured to them many slaves of the best sort of citizens, by promises of libertie and other good recompences: insomuch, as all the hired peo­ple C being in a very great number, concluded upon a secret conspiration, that the said citizens should one night seize upon the strongest places of the towne; and that the said slaves should sley their masters in their beds as soon as they should hear a noice that should be made through the towne, for a watchword: and this being done, some should goe and open the gates to the Tarquins. There were two brethren, Marcus and Publius Laurentius, which were of this conjuration: these many times were tor­mented in their beds in sleepe, by hideous and fearefull dreames, this made them go to their Divines, to know from whence these dreames proceeded. The Divines told them they proceeded from some wicked enterprise which they had in their heads, which they could not well bring about, & it were good they left off, that they might D be no more tormented with such dreames. This was the cause, that the two brethren discovered all the conspiration to Servius Sulpitius, one of the Consuls. Sulpitius saw an evident and nigh perill to the commonwealth, if suddainly it were not provided for: yet did he not thinke it good to deale in the punishment of the culpable, before they were well vanquished and plaine matters averred against them (as our Machia­velists of this time doe, which take law against men after they have slaine them) but secretly communicated the fact to the Senat. The Senat referred to him to proceed in that matter as he thought fittest for the utilitie and conservation of the common­weale. Sulpitius considering then, that amongst the conspirators there were many great persons and well allied, and that he might reape great envie and hatred, if hee E caused any to die without an open conviction of the fact, hee resolved to bring the cause to a cleare and evident proofe. He then tooke such order, as the strong places of the citie were guarded by good men on a certaine night assigned, and so sent to Tullius Longus, his companion in the Consulship (who then besieged the towne of Fidenes) that he should come to Rome with a good part of his armie: and he dealt so, as he arrived nigh the gates at the houre of midnight, at the night assigned, and that [Page 362] there he should stay, til Sulpitius sent him word. This done, he gave charge to the two F brethren Laurentines (which had discovered the enterprise unto him) to advertise their complices, as from the side of the Tarquins, to execute their desseigne that night, and that they all should meet in the market place, the better to know what eve­ry man should doe. This was so done: insomuch, as the conjurators being altogether assembled in the publicke market, the Consull Longus was assigned to enter into the towne with all his forces, and so in the market place were all the conjurators environ­ned and wrapped in by the good order that Sulpitius had taken: so that they were all by this meanes convicted of the fact: insomuch, as none of their parents or allies could denie the crime. This was the cause that every man said after (when it came to the punishment of the conspirators) that it were a good deed to punish them, and G that Sulpitius had well performed his dutie. Breefely, by this cleare & evident proofe which Sulpitius drew out of this conspiration, he obtained great honour and praise, whereas hee should have heaped upon himselfe great envie and evill will of the al­lies and parents of such as were culpable, if he had caused them to be executed with­out great and evident verification of the crime.

Helpidius also, lieutenant of Iustice at Rome, in the time of the emperor Constan­tius, Am. Marcel. lib. 21. A Iudge ought to feare to offend his conscience. shewed himselfe a good and sincere Iudge: For being commaunded by the em­perour to racke and torment a poore accused person, he would never doe it, because he found no matter nor sufficient proofes against him to do it: but humbly besought the emperour rather to discharge him of his Office, than constraine him to doe a H thing against his conscience.

The prince then which will make a good election of magistrates, ought to take care to chuse persons, which like Cato will not winke at vices, and which will patiently heare parties, and judge equally, as did Quintius: which will be diligent, well to draw out the truth of the fact, before he give judgement upon any, as did Sulpitius: which may be such persons as feare to offend their consciences, like Helpidius. And briefly, that they be fearers of God, lovers of truth, & not covetous, according to Iethro his counsell: Thus doing, hee need not feare to have his justice well ruled and holily ad­ministred. He must take heed he doe not like the emperour Tiberius, who gave his Offices to great drinkers and gourmandizers, taking pleasure to see a man tunne up I much wine and viands into his bellie: Neither ought hee to imitate the example of Suet. in Tib. cap. 42. A [...]. Marcel. lib. 23 & 27. the emperour Iulian the Apostata, who for a Iudge (one time) gave to the towne of Alexandria in Aegypt, a most cruell and turbulent man: And when it was told him, that this Iudge was a man very unwoorthie of such an Office: I know nor (sayth hee) how unworthie he is: but because the Alexandrians be turbulent and covetous per­sons, I will give them a like Iudge, which may deale with them after their merits. This was a very inconsiderate part of this emperour, to give a wicked magistrate to a cor­rupted people for their amendment: for that is, as if one should give unto a diseased person a wicked physician to heale him. There was the like fact committed in our time by the Machiavelists; but no marvaile if Atheists follow the traces of an Apo­stata, K for the one is as good as the other. Neither ought the prince also to doe as the emperor Valentinian, who constrained the parties to subject themselves to the judg­ment of suspected Iudges to bee their enemies: For all these said emperours were greatly blamed by authors of their time, and are yet by all hystories, for their so evill choise of unworthie men in Offices, which rather they ought to have recoiled and dejected, as many other emperors did, which for farre lesse causes have cassierd and [Page 363] dispatched them out of their Offices; as some have written, That Augustus Caesar A cassierd a magistrate as ignorant and incapable, because hee writ Ixi in place of Ipsi. And Vespasian cassierd another, because he perfumed himselfe & smelled of muske, saying, he would have loved him better, if he had smelled of Garlicke. And Domitian cassierd another, because he delighted in dauncing and puppet playes: for Domitian (although otherwise very wicked) had this good in him, that he caused wel to be cha­stised, all such as our Machiavelists are at this day. Likewise also Fabricius Censor, cassierd out of the Senate Cornelius Rufinus Senator, because hee had vessels of silver weighing tenne marks, which at this time comes to 40 crownes. But I leave you to thinke, if they would not then have rigorously punished such as doe spoile and eate the people; which sell Iustice, or which commit like abuses (which at this day are manifestly B tollerated in France) since they cassierd men out of their Offices for farre lighter causes, as to faile in the orthographie of a word, to smell of a perfume, to daunce, to have plate of the value of tenne pound: for these things seeme not to be great faults, but at this time men do rather make vertues of them.

But it is not ynough, that a prince make good election of his Officers and Magi­strates by the consideration of each mans particular vertues, but also, in seats where he must needs establish many Iudges together; hee ought to take good advisement well [...]o compose the bodie of that assembly, by considering the qualities required, to give a good harmonie and temperature to all the bodie. And for this purpose hee ought to compose and temper it of persons of divers estates and divers countries: C as for example: A parliament and judgement seat (which ought to bee composed of many) ought not to be made of men, all of the Nobilitie or of the Clergie, or of the third estate, but some of every estate: Likewise, it ought not to be composed of men all of one towne, but they ought to bee taken from divers jurisdictions or dio­cesses: And those two points have aunciently been observed in France, according to royall ordinances so enjoyning. But in the time wherein we are, wee may adde by the like reason, That in a parliament or the like seat, they ought not all to be Catho­like Romanes, and none of the Reformed Religion: For if the estate of the Clergie for the conservation of her priviledges, hath well obtained, that in all such places there be magistrates of the Clergie (although they bee of the same religion in all D points with the Catholike Lay-men) why should they denie it to men of the professi­on of the Gospell? To this purpose we reade, That at Rome there was a time where­in there was many more knights in the assembly of Iudges soveraigne of causes, than of Senators: insomuch, as by soveraigne judgement, Publius Rutilius (who was a good and sincere man) was condemned to banishment (because hee had repressed the excessive and undue exactions of Publicans in Asia) being evill beloved of the knights, which were the greater number of the assembly. The Senatours disdaining and grieving at this wicked judgement, stirred up Livius Drusus Tribune of the peo­ple: at whose pursute there was a law made, That from thence forward the Senatours and knights should be of a like number in the judgements of causes: Which law was E found good and profitable to the commonweale? as by the contrary they found not good that law which before Caius Gracchus (who also was a Tribune of the people) would have caused to passe, wherby he sought to these, that in the judgement of cau­ses there might be two knights against one Senator: For herein there is no equali­tie nor equitie; and therefore by good reason that law was rejected, yea, and to the ruine of Gracchus, who was slaine in the too earnest pursute of that law.

[Page 364] Iosaphat also, king of Iudea, after he had established good magistrates through F the townes of his kingdome, and expressely enjoyned them to execute good justice Paral. lib. 2. cap. 1410. Antiq. lib. 9. cap. 2. to every man, without having any regard, but to the feare of God, and not to the ri­ches nor the dignitie of persons, finally established a seat like a parliament, in the towne of Ierusalem, composed of persons elected from all the lines and families of his kingdome, as Iudges, holding the degree of supreame jurisdiction, unto which, men might only appeale from the sentences of inferior Iudges. The same tempera­ture kept also the ancient Romanes in all sorts of their magistrates: For they not on­ly had of their nobilitie, but also of their knights, and of the third estate to the con­tentment of every one: and that magistrates being so temperated, they so might be suspected neither to great nor little. This is it which was said of Marcus Valerius (that G Dionis. Halic. lib. 7. valiant and wise Senatour and great captaine of warre) persuading the Senate to re­ceive the people to Offices, and into the administration of the commonweale. ‘Ma­sters (said he) all they which will well establish a publicke estate, ought to consider, not only that which is present, but also that which may come: But certainly, if the whole administration of the commonweale remained alwaies in the hands of such as are rich and puissant, it might so come to passe in succession of time, that some small number of them would usurpe a tyrannous domination over the people: But when some of the people shall be mixed amongst such as are rich and puissant, they dare enterprise no tyrannie, fearing to be punished by the lawes; whereof the magistrats of the people may pursue against them the observation. Finally, so much the greater H terror and feare we propose before the eyes of transgressors of lawes and corrupters of manners, by putting against proud and covetous men, many observers and wat­chers in their heads, so much the better shall the estate of our commonwealth bee established and assured.’

A Prince having by good election well ordained the magistrates of his Iustice, A Prince ought to pu­nish evill Iudges, and to reward good men. hee ought after, to consider how hee may maintaine them in their dutie to walke up­right, and to keepe themselves from corruption. To doe this, hee must observe two things: To cassier them which deale evill in their charge, yea, that hee punish them according to the greatnes of their faults, and that he recompence & remunerat them which deale well in their charges. Wee have above set downe some examples of cer­taine I emperours, which chastised their vicious magistrates, which examples doe me­rit well to be drawne into a consequence, at the least for great faults of magistrats: But above all, a prince ought alwayes to have before his eyes the example of the king S. Lewis, who of his kingdome sent often Commissaries throgh his provinces to get information of the abuses of magistrates, that he might doe justice thereof: For this example meriteth well to be practised in the time wherein we are. Moreover, the em­perour Alexander Severus practised very well these two points, wherof now I speake: Lamprid. in Alex. touching the punishing of evill magistrates, and remunerating the good. For on the one side he so hated wicked magistrats, which abused their Offices, that one day there comming to his Court one Arabinus, who was reported to have committed thefts K in the administration of his Office, he begun in a great choller. O gods immortall? Arabinus not onely liveth, but dare appeare in the Senate, and before mee. On the other side, Alexander would remunerate and bountifully reward such magistrates as were good, and well acquited themselves in their charges: For (said hee) good magi­strates which are good men, must be bought and enriched: but wicked men of no va­lue must be impoverished and driven away. Wee may also alledge the example of [Page 365] the most part of our ancient kings of France, which stipended well their Officers of A Iustice: For although it seeme, that the wages which they take at this present is little; yet at the time when their wages were first constiuted and set downe unto them, they were great and sufficient ynough to maintaine them unto whome they were given. And there is no doubt but a man might as well and honourably maintaine himselfe some 60 years agoe with 300 pound a year, as now for 1000, for truly, since that time, all things have proved foure times dearer. Whereupon it followeth, since expences are quadruple, and that the wages of magistrates are not raised, that it were requisite they were augmented, the rather to encourage them to doe their duties, and to take from them all occasion and excuse of abuses.

Hereupon some have thought, that to shun abuses & corruptions of magistrats, B it were good and expedient to make them temporall, as for two or three yeares, or els Magistrates in Fraunce ought nei­ther to bee temporall nor ambu­latorie. to make them ambulatorie, by remooving of them from time to time from one pro­vince to another. This opinion hath been held by a great person of our time, which seemeth to be founded upon many good reasons: For if magistrates were temporall, by consequent they should be subject to the Syndiks, and to give account of their ad­ministration: and if they were ambulatorie, they should not know the persons sub­mitted to their jurisdictions, neither could they contract with them any inward fa­miliaritie and love, which often doe cause Iudges to stray out of the right way, & do draw the curtaine from the eies of Iustice: And both by the laws of the Romans, and the ordinances of king Lewis, and many other kings his successors, the magistrates of C Provinces could neither be perpetuall, nor might they be magistrates in the provin­ces where they were borne. Yet if we consider, that France is composed of divers pro­vinces, which have every one their courses of law, different, wee shall find, that it were impossible to find magistrates fit to administer justice in every severall province for want of knowledge of the different stiles, customes, and manners of every severall countrey, which are not well learned but by use and practise: And also old men and many persons very capable to exercise offices of magistracie, neither can nor wil sub­ject themselves to an uncertaine removing from one province to another: for the af­faires of their familie could not well beare it, yet every man must have care of his fa­milie. We see also, that men advanced to Offices, although men learned & capable, D yet at the first have not had the dexteritie well to applie their knowledge to use, for it is obtained by the handling of matters & experience. Wherupon it followeth, that if magistrats were temporall, they should be at the end of their time even then when they begun to understand how they ought to handle their Offices, & by appointing deputies in their places, the like would come to them: and so would it come to passe, that in Offices there would be placed, more often new men than well experienced; a thing neither good nor profitable to the commonweale. And for this cause we read, that the emperour Antonius Pius continued alwaies in his time his magistrats, which Capit. in Pio. in their Offices acquited themselves well. And in the time of Severus, and other em­perors after him, it was practised, that to the Office of the Praetorian praefecture, they E should alwayes provide some one of them which before had served as an Assessor, and knew therefore how he should handle that Office. And certainly, in the Romans time there was this incommoditie in the matter of magistrates, that often they were at the end of their time, before they understood how they should administer; as a captaine Niger, lieutenant of the warre for the emperor Marcus Antonine, complai­ned to him. But that incommoditie was much more supportable in that time, than Spart. in Ni­gro. [Page 366] at this day it can bee, in Fraunce: for the Romane magistrates seldome decided pri­vate F and particular causes: but in Fraunce, magistrates must deale in all causes.

After that the prince hath well established his justice as well by publication of A Prince ought him­self to mini­ster Iustice. good lawes, as by institution of good magistrates, yet is he not discharged: For he ought himselfe also to deale therin. And this is another point of the Counsell which Iethro gave to Moses: For after he had counselled him, what magistrates hee should establish under him, he added more, That Moses ought to reserve unto himselfe the knowledge and decision of great affaires, which are of consequence. And assuredly, this is a point very necessarie, and which a prince ought not to leave behind: for hee is debtor of Iustice to his subjects, and ought to give them audience in things wher­of he is to have necessarie knowledge: for all things are not proper to bee handled before magistrates established by the prince: but there are many things, wherof the G knowledge ought to appertaine to the prince alone: as when a meane man wil com­plaine against some great lord or magistrat, or against Publicans and exactors of the princes money, or when a man labours for a pardon, gift, recompence, and many o­ther like: The prince then ought himselfe, either alone, or in his Counsell to give of­ten audience unto his subjects: For we reade, that by the primitive creation of kings Dionis. Halic [...]ib, 1. & 5. and monarchs, the authoritie which was attributed unto them by the people, consi­sted in three very notable points: whereof the first was, To minister good justice unto their subjects, by causing them to observe the lawes and customes of the countrey, and to take knowledge themselves of the injuries which are great and of consequence amongst their subjects. The second point was, To convocat an assembly of a Senat, to H handle the affaires of the commonwealth. And the third, To be the cheefetaine and soveraigne of the warre. And for as much as the first dutie of kings consisteth, to do good justice unto their subjects, the auncient Grecians (even Homer) calleth them [...], that is to say, Distributers of justice. This is it where­fore almost all good princes have had their ordinary daies of Audience, wherin they took knowledge of the complaints and grievances of their subjects, and administred right and justice unto them. Iulius Caesar tooke great paine and travaile to heare cau­ses, and to administer justice, and to cause them to observe lawes which concerned Suet. in Cae­sar, cap. 43. in Aug. cap. 3 in Claud. cap. 15. in Galba, cap. 7. 8, 9. Domitiano, cap 8. the commonwealth: as especially the law Sumptuariam, which would permit no ex­cesse in bankets, nor dissolutnesse in apparell. Augustus Caesar likewise kept an ordi­narie I Audience, which he continued untill night: yea, being evill at ease, he in a litter would be carried to the pallace, or hold Audience in his house. The emperour Clau­dius also (although hee were of an heavie and dull spirit) yet held hee his Audience, and administred right to parties. So did Domitian, who (how wicked soever he was in other deportments) with great industrie and diligence administred good justice unto parties, and often revoked decrees from the Centumvirat seat, which for favor were given, and spared not to punish corrupted Iudges. The emperour Galba likewise (al­though he was of the age of threescore and twelve yeares, when he came to the em­pire) yet dealt with audience of parties, and administred justice. So did Traian, Adri­an, the Antonines, Severus, Alexander, and many other Romane emperors give Au­dience K to their subjects, and administred justice unto them. And very memorable is that which is written of the emperor Adrian, namely, That one day as hee went into the fields, he was required by a poore woman (who had watched to speake with him) to doe her justice upon a certaine complaint she made unto him: The emperour ve­ry Dion. in A­drian. kindly said unto her, That that was no place where she should require justice, and [Page 367] sent her away till another time: The woman replied upon him: Sir (said she) if you wil A not doe me justice, wherefore deale you to be emperour? Adrian was never moved hereat, but staied still, heard her, & did her justice. If we read the hystories of France, wee shall find, that it hath yet beene more ordinarie and common with our auncient kings to hold Audiences (which men called Lict de Iustice, The Bed of Iustice) than with the Romane emperours. Charlemaigne king of Fraunce, and emperour, besides Annal. upō Anno 809, & 814, & 1215. that he tooke great care, that Stewards, Bayliffes, and their deputies, should walk up­right without abusing their Offices, would also, that they should reserve unto him all great causes, or such as were amongst great lords: Then caused hee the parties to appeare before him, he heard them patiently, and agreed them amiably, if he could by any means: and so he gave his sentence, and good and prompt justice. King Lewis B the first of that name (surnamed le Debonaire, because of his good and holy conditi­ons) following the traces of Charlemaigne his father, held a publicke Audience in his pallace three times in the weeke, and heard the grievances and complaints of e­very one, executing to all quicke and right justice. But what good came there here­of? Even this (saith the hystorie) that the publicke good in this good kings time, was so well governed and administred, that there was almost no man found amongst his subjects, which complained, that any man did him wrong or injurie, but al men lived in great peace and prosperitie, one not daring to offend another, for the feare they had of the kings good justice, which he would administer himselfe, and so cause his ministers to doe after his example. So much could that royall vertue of Iustice doe C for the maintenance of peace and prosperitie in a kingdome. King Philip Augustus (surnamed the Conquerour, for his great prowesses and conquests) was also a good Iusticer, and willingly heard the complaints of his subjects: insomuch, as one day understanding, that Guy Counte de Auverne used greatly to pill and violently to spoile his subjects and neighbours, exacting upon them great summes of money a­gainst their wils, and without the kings consent their soveraigne, and having found him culpable hereof, condemned him (by the advice of the barons of the realme) to lose his land and seignorie of Auverne, which from that time was united to the crown. We may also place here the good justice of the kings, Charles le Sage, Charles the seventh, Charles the eight, Lewis the twelfth, and of many other kings of France, Annal. up­on Anno 1255 & 1269 Gaguin in the li [...]e of S. Lewis. The good justice of Lewis. D which gave oedinarie audience to the complaints of their subjects, and to doe them justice. But it shall suffice to close up all this matter with the example of that good king S. Lewis, who amongst other vertues wherewith he was endowed, he was a very good and upright administer of justice. This good king having a great zeale to esta­blish a good Iustice in his kingdome: first hee would and ordained, That the good and auncient lawes and customes of the kingdome should be well and straitly obser­ved, upon the paine he would take of his Bayliffes, Seneshals, and other magistrates, if they caused them not to bee well observed. And to the end the said magistrates might carry themselves well in their offices, he chose other officers, the best that hee could find, of which he secretly enquired of their vertues and vices. And to the end E they might administer good and breefe justice to the poore as to the rich, without exception of persons, he forbad them to take presents (unlesse some present of victu­all, which may not exceed tenne shillings by the weeke) nor any other benefites for them or their children, neither of them which were in contention, nor of any other person of their bailiwike and territorie, and commaunded they should take nothing within their perfecture or jurisdiction: For this good king considered, that presents, [Page 368] benefits and desire to gain, are the means wherby magistrates may be corrupted, and F therfore to shun all corruption, he must cut off the meanes therunto. Moreover, he very rigorously punished such officers of Iustice as abused their estates, & spared not even great lords themselves, but punished them after their merits: as happened to the lord de Coucy, who caused to strangle two yong Flamins, when he found them hunting in his woods. For the king caused to be called before him the said lord, who fearing to be handled as he had delt with the Flamins, wold have taken the hearing of the cause from the king, saying, he was to be sent for before the peeres of France. But the king forced him to abide his judgments, & indeed had made him die, if great lords (parents & friends of the said lord de Coucy) had not importuned so much the king for his par­don: unto which the king accorded, that he shold have his life, but yet he condemned him to the warre against the Turks and Infidels in the holy land by the space of three G yeares (which was a kind of banishment) and besides condemned him in a fine & pai­ment of 10000 Paris pounds, which were bestowed on the building of an Hostle Dieu at Ponthoise. This king gave not easily any pardon, nor without great deliberation: And (for a devise) he had often in his mouth that verse of the Psalme of David: Hap­pie are they which doe iudgement and Iustice at all times. He said also, That this was no mercie but crueltie, not to punish malefactors. Moreover, he was a king full of truth, chast, charitable, and fearing God; which are vertues exceeding woorthy for a good prince, and which commonly accompanie good justice. But the godly precepts hee The tenne commande­mēts which the king S. Lewis at his disease, gave to his eldest sonne. gave (being in extremitie of his life) to king Philip the Hardie, his sonne and succes­sor, H doe well merit to be written in letters of gold upon the lintels of doores, and the houses of all kings and Christian princes, to have them alwaies before their eies. My deare sonne (saith he) since it pleaseth God, our Father and Creator, to withdraw me now from this miserable world, to carrie mee to a better life than this; ‘I would not depart from thee my sonne, without giving you for my last blessing the doctrines and precepts which a good father ought to give to his sonne, hoping you wil engrave in your heart these your fathers last words. I command you then my deare sonne, That above all things you have alwaies before your eies the feare of God, our good Fa­ther: for the feare of God is the beginning, yea the accomplishment of all true wise­dome, & if you feare him, he will blesse you. Secondly, I exhort you to take all adver­sities I patiently, acknowledging, that it is God which visiteth you for your sins, & not to wax proud in prosperitie, accounting, that it comes to you by Gods grace, not by your merits. Thirdly, I recommend unto you charitie towards the poor: for the good you doe unto them shall be yeelded unto you an hundred fold, and Iesus Christ our Saviour shall account it done unto him. After, I recommend to you very straitly my deare sonne, that you cause to keep well the good laws & customes of the kingdome, and to administer good justice to your subjects: for happy are they which administer good justice at all times: and to doe this, I enjoine you, that you be carefull to have good magistrates, and command you them, that they favor not your Procurators a­gainst equitie, and that you rigorously punish such as abuse their Offices: for when K they make faults, they are more punishable than others; because they ought to go­vern other subjects, and to serve them for an example. Suffer not that in judgement there be acception of persons, and so favour the poore onely as the truth of his fact doth appeare, without favoring him as to the judgement of his cause. Moreover, I command you, that you bee carefull to have a good Counsell about you of persons which be of staied & good age, which be secret, peaceable, & not covetous: for if you [Page 369] doe this, you shall bee loved and honoured, because the light of the servants makes A their masters shine: Also more, I forbid you to take tallages or tributes upon your subjects, but for urgent necessitie, evident utilitie, and just cause; for otherwise you shall not bee held for a king, but for a tyrant: Further I command you, that you be carefull to maintaine your subjects in good peace and tranquilitie, and observe their franchises and priveledges which before they have enjoyed, and take heede you moove no warre against any Christian, without exceeding great occasion and rea­son. Item I exhort you to give the benefices of your kingdome, to men of good life, and good conscience, not to luxurious and covetous wretches. My deere sonne, if you observe these my commands, you shall bee a good example to your subjects, and you shall bee the cause that they will adict themselves to doe well; because the B people will alwaies give themselves to the imitation of their prince:’ and God by his bountie maintaine you firme and assured in your estate and kingdome: Thus finish­ed this good king his last words, full of holy zeale, and correspondent to his life, passed and yeelded his soule to his creator, which had given it him. His sonne king Philip third of that name, called the Hardie, because of his valiancie which he shew­ed against the infidels, and against other enemies, as well during the life, as after the death of his father, made good profit of these excellent commands, and maintained the kingdome in good peace, and great prosperitie during his raigne.

For an end heereof, I doe note in this good king Lewis, That it is very true which the scripture witnesseth unto us; That the lust shall spring up, and receive of God C the blessing of a good and long generation: For there were more than three hun­dreth yeeres, that the race of this good king held the crowne of France, yea there was no more any other race of the blood royall, but his: For the house of Valois, and the house of Burbon, have issued from this good king: God by his mercie graunt grace to princes of this time, which are discended from so good a roote, that they may engrave in their hearts the godly commandements of this king, whose mea­ning verily, was not onely to prescribe to the said king Philip his sonne, but generally to all his posteritie.

36. Maxime. D

‘Gentlemen which hould Castles and Jurisdictions, are very great enemies of commonweales. E’

THe Leages and Cantons of Almaigne (saith Machiavell) live very peaceably, and at their ease, because they observe Discourse lib. 1. cap. an equalitie amongst themselves, and suffer no gentlemen in their country; and those fevv they have, they so hate them, [Page 370] that vvhen by adventure any of them fall into their hands, they put F them to death, and take none to mercie, saying, they are they vvhich destroy all, and hould schooles of wickednesse: I call (saith hee) them gentlemen, vvhich live of their revenew, without giving themselves to any trade: These in a countrey are very dangerous, and above all, high Iusticers vvhich hould Castles and fortresses, and which have a great number of vassailes and subiects which owe them faith and homage. The kingdome of Naples, the land of Rome, Romaigne, & Lombar­die, are full of such manner of men, and they are the cause that hither­to no good estate politicke can bee constituted in those places, for G they are formall and capitall enemies of the civile estate of common­weales.

THey which have frequented the countries of Almaigne, and of Sui­ses, may well give Machiavell the lie, for that he saith in this Maxi­me: for in those countries may bee found many gentlemen great Iusticers, having under them, men, jurisdictions, and castles, which were not onely maintained in their nobilitie and authoritie, but also are there greatly respected and imployed in publike affaires: H And so much there wanteth, that there they hould a schoole of wickednesse, that contrary, onely they hould the countries in peace, every one in his owne countrey, and doe see justice administred to their subjects. I will not denie but there are gentle­men in Alemaigne, in the countrey of Suisses, in France, and other where, which are bad inough, and which are violent and vitious, yet for some few wee must not con­demne all in generall, as Machiavell doth heere, who saith, they bee dangerous peo­ple in a countrie, and that they are enemies to an estate politicke: I know not if those hee named bee such (namely the gentlemen of Naples, of Romania, of Lumbardie, and of Rome) and I am content to confesse unto him, because I will not contest and strive against him, upon a fact which hath some appearance of truth: But I deny un­to I him, that on this side the mounts they are such, but contrary wee see that it is one­ly the Nobilitie of France, and other neighbour countries, which authorize & pro­tect justice, and which make it to bee obeyed: Yet will I also confesse that the gen­tlemen on this side the mounts, are very dangerous, and great enemies unto such a politicke estate as Machiavell hath builded by his writings, that is, a Tyrannicall: For hystories tell us, that our ancestors, especially the barons, lords, & gentlemen, have vi­gorouslie alwaies opposed themselves against tyrannies, and would never K suffer them long to grow up or take roote; which is a naturall thing in the French Nobilitie, & good, though evill for the Machiavellistes strangers which are come in­to France to practise their tyrannies: for by Gods grace, they shall (with much a doe) take any deepe roote there.

37. Maxime. A

‘The Nobility of France would overthrow the estates of that kingdome, if their B Parliaments did not punish them, and hould them in feare.’

THe kingdome of France (saith Nicholas) is a kingdome more living under lawes, than any other, whereof their Par­liaments Discourse lib. 1. cap. 1. are the gardiants and maintainers, especially, that of Paris: And hitherto that kingdome is maintained, because the Par­liaments have alwaies beene obstinate executors and resisters against the Nobilitie, without which the kingdome of France had come to ruine. C

MAchiavell had done much better to have medled onely with the estate of Florence: for hee shewes well his ignorance, and that hee never knew the estate of France, nor how it hath beene governed by our ancestors: For I pray you, where hath hee found this, that the kingdome of France, would dissolve and come to ruine, but that the Parliaments are executors a­gainst the Nobilitie? Is not this as much to say, as the French Nobilitie will ruinate the kingdome, if it bee not brideled and held short by Parliaments, and that it were better there were none? I doubt not D but that Machiavell thus though: For wee see it by the practise of the Machiavel­lists, which never shot at other marke, than to ruinate in France all the Nobilitie, the better to establish their tyrannie, at ease without contradiction: And for this effect have they cassed, violated, and overthrowne all the good lawes of the kingdome, by the meanes of which it hath alwaies hitherto been maintained: and Machiavell con­fesseth and said true, which his disciples having well marked, and desiring to ruinate the said kingdome, have not fayled to beginne by the lawes thereof, knowing well Since what time Parlia­ments of France were instituted. Before Par­liaments the king­dome was no lesse flo­rishing in peace and good iustice than since. that having ruinated her foundations, she will be easily dissolved and overthrowne.

But to confute this Maxime, I will alledge no other thing but that wee see in our French hystories, That our kingdome was as much or more flourishing, and better E governed before there were any Parliaments in France, than since: For the Parlia­ment of Paris (which is the ancientest) was established and constituted in the time of king Philip le Bel, Anno 1294. That of Tholouse, during the raigne of Charles the seventh, Anno 1444. That of Bourdeaux, in the time of the same king, Anno 1451. That of Daulphin, in the time also of the same king (but by the authoritie of king Lewis the eleventh his sonne then Daulphin, and then inhabiting in Dauphine) in [Page 372] Anno 1453. The Parliaments of Dijon and of Provence, in the time of the said king F Lewis the eleventh. That of Rovan, in the time of king Lewis the twelfth, in Anno 1499. And that of Bretaigne, was erected onely in the time of king Henry the second, in Anno 1553: But before there was any newes of all those Parliaments, was not the kingdome large and flourishing, rich in peace, flourishing in warre? None can deny this, without giving the lie to all our hystories, which doe witnesse, that in the times of Clowis, Charles Martell, Charlemaigne, Philip August, S Lewis, and of many other kings of France, the kingdome greatly flourished in peace and warre: Yet was there no newes of all the Parliaments abovenamed: And so much there wanted, that the gentlemen troubled or ruinated the estate of the kingdome, when there was no Par­liaments; that by contrary, they were they which exercised in person, the estates of G baylifes and seneshals, and ministred justice to every man through the provinces, and when they were constrained to goe out, they appointed themselves a lieutenant to exercise their offices: And as for appellations from their sentences, they were dis­cussed by a generall meeting of the deputies of provinces, and good townes of the kingdome, which congregated at a place assigned by the king, once a yeere: Which assembly men well called a Parliament, in the ould French tongue. But those assem­blies were not formed offices, neither in any thing are like the Parliaments at this present, but rather are like the assembly of our Estates generall. There did sit the de­puties of the Short robe, whereof the most part were gentleme [...] which they called Lay men, and the deputies of the Long robe, which wee call clerkes (although since, H councellors clerkes are onely called Clerkes, & Lay men they which be married) with the Peeres of France, when they would sit with them: Therefore gentlemen were em­ployed to doe justice to the people, not onely in offices of baylifes and seneshals, but also as delegates of townes and provinces to assist in the assembly of Parliament, which otherwise men called the court of Peeres. It is therefore seene, that the say­ing of Machiavell is a meere slaunder, and that the Nobilite of France is not such as he makes it (although in all estates there be both good and evill) and that of all times, even before ther were any Parliaments, the Nobilitie were employed to maintaine the kingdome in peace & repose by their exercise of the charges & offices of justice.

And would to God, that yet at this day gentlemen would not give themselves so I much to armes, but that some of them would studie the civil law, that they might ex­ercise offices of Iustice. The ancient Romanes made no lesse account of a civile ver­tue, Many of this time despise let­ters and the noblenesse of vertue. Salust. in Catelin. wherby a man knew how to maintaine peace & justice in his country, than of the military vertue, whereby we are defended from strange oppression. And indeede it is a small thing (as Salust saith) to bee puissant in armes without, when within wee have no counsell. For the Barbarians, as the Scythians and Tartarians, are greatwar­riors against their enemies and neighbours, yet amongst themselves they have no counsell, no good policie, no well governed justice, no letters, sciences, nor schooles, and in summe they are Barbarians, though they bee warlike. Whereby appeareth how much it serveth to the publike estate of a countrey, to have within it a good K justice, and a good policie, and fit and capable people well to manage it. But our gen­tlemen at this day (at the least many) have letters and sciences in too great despight, and doe thinke it doth derogate from their gentry and nobilitie, if they know any thing, and make a mocke at such as deale with a pen and inckhorne, which is one of the greatest vices which at this day raigneth amongst the Nobilitie. And if they de­lighted not in ignorance, but would vouchsafe onely to reade hystories; they should [Page 373] finde that Iulius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius, Adrian, Marke Antonine, A Severus, Macrinus, and many other emperours were very learned in letters and sci­ences, yea themselves writ bookes. Wee reade also in our hystories, that king Char­lemaigne, king Robert, Charles le Sage, and of recent memorie, king Francis the first of that name, were princes endewed with good knowledge, for their times: I say for their times: for the time wherein were these ancient kings (except the said king Fran­cis) were full of barbarousnesse and ignorance, and farre from the learned world of the emperours, which wee have before named. I will also note another notable vice, which runnes currant amongst gentlemen at this day, which is, That they make so great accompt of their Nobilitie of blood, that they esteeme not the Nobilitie of vertue; insomuch as it seemeth to some, that no vices can dishonour or pollute the B Nobilitie and gentry which they bring from their ancestors. But they ought well to consider, that to their race there was a beginning of Nobilitie, which was attri­buted to the first that was noble, in consideration of some vertue which was in him. If then the Nobilitie and gentrie of race tooke his originall and spring from vertue, it followeth that so soone as it houldeth no more of the said spring, it is no more Nobilitie, nor gentrie, no more nor lesse than the water which commeth and springs from a neate and cleere fountaine, when it polluteth and corrupts it selfe in filthie boggs, carres, fennes, and miery sinkes, shall bee called the fountaine water, since it hath corrupted it selfe in filthie mire and clay, but shall bee accounted cor­rupt and stinking water, although it runne from a most pure and cleare spring. We C reade that the emperour Marke Antonine, made so great account of the Nobilitie of vertue (although hee himselfe was most noble, and of an ancient race) that in comparison of it, hee made no estimate of Nobilitie of race, therefore married hee his daughters to persons which were not of great ancient Nobilitie, but to such as were wise and vertuous, such as none were found like amongst the most illustrious races of Rome. Maecenas also was a great lord in the time of Augustus Caesar, issued of a royall race, yet hee made no account of that Nobilitie of blood, in comparison of that true Nobilitie which is of vertue: Hee loved, honoured, praised, and en­riched learned men, yea was very familiar with them, and had them ordinarily at his table, although otherwise they were of base race: This his love and favour, which he D bore to learning, was the cause that his name by them was immortalized, and heere­upon such as are liberall, and love learned men, are called Maecenates. The Poet Ho­race greatly praiseth him, because hee preferred the Nobilitie of vertue, before that of race, when hee saith:

Thou saist tru [...] Macenas, what matters it to thee:
Serm. lib. 1. Sa [...]ir. 6.
On what [...] is borne, so that borne hee bee free.

Therefore gentlemen of [...], ought not to despise such as by their vertue may bouldly say, & carry themselve [...] [...]or Nobles, [...] [...]ught to respect them, and acknow­ledge E in them, the cause from wh [...]nce their Nobilitie of blood tooke their originall & commencement. They also which are Noble, not onely of race, but also of vertue, ought verily to be respected and doubt honoured: for as the Poet Euripides saith:

At the good accounted [...], of Noble blood to bee:
Euri. in Hecu.
But double is his honour, whom, wee vertuous doe see.

[Page 374] Heere will I ende these present discourses, exhorting and praying the French F Nobilitie, and all other persons which love the publike good of France, to marke and earnestly consider the points which above wee have handled against Machia­vell: For so may they know how wicked, impious and detestable the doctrine of that most filthie Atheist is, who hath left out no kind of wickednesse to build a tyrannie accomplished of all abhominable vices. They which know this, I beleeve will coura­giousl [...]e employ themselves to drive away and banish from France, Machiavell and all his writings, and all such as maintaine and follow his doctrine and practise it in France, to the ruine and desolation of the kingdome, and of the poore people. I could much more have amplified this discourse, if I would have examined all the doctrine of Machiavell: For hee handleth many other very detestable and strange G things; as the meanes to make conspirations, and how they must bee executed, as well with sword as with poyson, and many other like matters: But I abhorre to speake of so villanous and wicked things, which are but too much knowne amongst men, and have contented my selfe to handle the principall points of his doctrine, which merit to bee discovered, and brought to light.

I pray God our Father and Creator, in the name of our Lord Iesus Christ our onely Saviour and Mediator, that he will preserve his Church, and his elected, from the contagious and wicked doctrine of such godlesse and prophane men as are too common in the world: and that he will not suffer them which are of his flock to bee tossed and troubled by a sort of turbulent and ignorant spirits: But that he will grant H us grace alwaies to persevere in his holy doctrine, & in the right way which he hath shewed us by his word: and well to discerne and know abusive, lying and malitious spirits, to detest and flie them, and continually to fol­low his truth, which will teach us his feare and his com­mandements, and by his grace will bring us unto eternall life: So bee it. I K

FINIS.

THE INDEX OR TABLE OF Machiavels Maximes, confuted in those dis­courses, divided into three parts.

The Maximes of the first part doe handle such Counsell as a Prince should take.

  • A Princes good Counsell ought to proceed from his owne wisedome, otherwise, he cannot be well counselled. Max. 1.
  • The Prince, to shun and not to bee circumvented of Flatterers, ought to forbid his friends and Counsellors, that they speake not to him, nor counsell him any thing, but only in those things whereof hee freely begins to speake, or asketh their advice. Max. 2.
  • A Prince ought not to trust in Strangers. Max. 3.

The Maximes of the second part, handling the Religion which a Prince ought to observe and be of.

  • A Prince above all things ought to wish and desire to bee esteemed De­vout, although he be not so indeed. Max. 1.
  • A Prince ought to sustaine and confirme that which is false in Religion, if so be it turne to the favour thereof. 2.
  • The Paynims Religion holds and lifts up their hearts, and makes them hardie to enterprise great things: but the Christian Religion, persuading to Humilitie, humbleth and too much weakeneth their minds, and so makes them more readie to be injured and preyed upon. 3.
  • 4. The great Doctors of the Christian Religion, by a great ostentation and stiffenesse have sought to abolish the remembrance of all good letters and antiquitie. 4.
  • [Page]When men left the Paynim Religion they became altogether corrupted, so that they neither beleeved in God nor the Divell. Max. 5.
  • The Romane Church is cause of all the calamities of Italie. Max. 6.
  • Moses could never have caused his lawes and ordinances to bee obser­ved, if force and armes had wanted. 7.
  • Moses usurped Iudea, as the Gothes usurped a part of the empire. 8.
  • The Religion of Numa was the cheefe cause of Romes felicitie. 9.
  • A man is happy so long as Fortune agreeth to his nature & humor. 10.

The Maximes of the third Part, entreating of such Policie as a Prince ought to have.

  • That Warre is just, which is necessary: and those Armes reasonable, when men can have no hope by any other way but by Armes. Max. 1.
  • To cause a Prince to withdraw his mind altogether from peace & agree­ment with his adversarie, he must commit and use some notable and outra­gious injurie against him. Max. 2.
  • A Prince in a conquered countrey, must establish and place Colonies or Garrisons, but most especially in the strongest places, and to chase away the naturall and old inhabitants thereof. Max. 3.
  • A Prince in a countrey newly conquered, must subvert and destroy all such as suffer great losse in that conquest, and altogether root out the blood and race of such as before governed there. 4.
  • To be revenged of a citie or countrey without striking any blow, they must be filled with wicked manners. 5.
  • It is follie to thinke, with Princes and great Lords that new pleasures will cause them to forget old offences. 6.
  • A Prince ought to propound unto himselfe to imitate Caesar Borgia, the sonne of Pope Alexander the sixt. 7.
  • A Prince need not care to be accounted Cruell, if so be that hee can make himselfe to be obeyed thereby. 8.
  • It is better for a Prince to be feared than loved. 9.
  • A prince ought not to trust in the amitie of men. 10.
  • A prince which would have any man to die, must seeke out some appa­rent colour thereof, and then hee shall not bee blamed, if so be that he leave his inheritance and goods unto his children. 11.
  • A prince ought to follow the nature of the Lyon and of the Fox, yet not of the one without the other. 12.
  • [Page]Cruelty which tendeth and is done to a good end, is not to be reprehen­ded. Max. 13.
  • A Prince ought to exercise Crueltie all at once: and to doe pleasures by little and little. Max. 14.
  • A vertuous Tyrant, to maintaine his tyrannie, ought to maintain par­tialities and factions amongst his subjects, and to slay and take away such as love the Commonweale. Max. 15.
  • A Prince may as well be hated for his vertue, as for his vices. 16.
  • A prince ought alwaies to nourish some enemie against himself, to this end, that when he hath oppressed him, he may be accounted the more mightie and terrible. 17.
  • A prince ought not to feare to be perjured, to deceive, and dissemble: for the deceiver alwayes finds some that are fit to be deceived. 18.
  • A Prince ought to know how to wind and turne mens minds, that he may deceive and circumvent them. 19.
  • A Prince, which (as it were constrained) useth Clemencie and Lenitie, advaunceth his owne destruction. 20.
  • A wise prince ought not to keepe his Faith, when the observation therof is hurtful unto him, & that the occasions for which he gave it be takē away. 21.
  • Faith, Clemencie, and Liberalitie, are vertues very domageable to a prince: but it is good, that of them he only have some similitude & likenes. 22.
  • A Prince ought to have a turning and winding wit, with art and practise made fit to be cruell and unfaithfull, that he may shew himselfe such an one when there is need. 23.
  • A prince desirous to breake a peace promised & sworn with his neighbor, ought to move warre against his friend with whom he hath peace. 24.
  • A prince ought to have his mind disposed to turne after every wind and variation of Fortune, that he may know to make use of a vice when need is. 25.
  • Illiberalitie is commendable in a prince, and the reputation of an han­dicrafts man, is a dishonour without evill will. 26.
  • A prince which will make a strait profession of a good man, cannot long continue in the world amongst such an heap of naughty & wicked people. 27.
  • Men cannot be altogether good nor altogether wicked, neither can they perfectly use crueltie and violence. 28.
  • He that hath alwayes caried the countenance of a good man, and would become wicked to obtain his desire, ought to colour his change, with some apparent reason. 29.
  • A prince in the time of peace, maintaining discords and partialities a­mongst his subjects, may the more easily use them at his pleasure. 30.
  • [Page]Civile seditions and dissentions are profitable, and not to be blamed. 31.
  • The meanes to keepe subjects in peace and union, and to hould them from rebellion, is to keepe them alwayes poore. 32.
  • A Prince which feareth his subjects, ought to build fortresses in his countrey, to hold them in obedience. 33.
  • A Prince ought to commit to another those affaires which are subject to hatred and envie, and reserve to himselfe such as depend upon his grace and favour. 34.
  • To administer good Iustice, a Prince ought to establish a great number of Judges. 35.
  • Gentlemen which hold Castles and Jurisdictions, are very great enemies of commonweales. 36.
  • The Nobility of France would overthrow the Estates of that kingdome, if their Parliaments did not punish them, and hould them in feare. 37.
FINIS.

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