The Discourses

Manlius Torquatus is a cruel Roman commander who gets excellent results from his men in battle. Valerius Corvinus is humane and friendly, and his soldiers get the same good results.

In a republic, Torquatus’s approach is safer, because “no one can acquire supporters through this method, showing himself always to be harsh and to love the common good alone” (312), where a Corvinus might, in a weak country, use his popularity among the troops to gain undue power. In a principality, though, Corvinus’s approach is better “because a prince must seek in his soldiers and subjects both obedience and love” (313). 

Camillus is an excellent leader but cruel in the manner of Torquatus and stingy with his men when dividing the spoils of war. Also, during a victory parade, Camillus surrounds himself with too much pomp and puffery, which offends the Roman people: “And although such pride and pomp cause them no inconvenience, none the less, they hate anyone who displays them” (315). 

The Romans, nearing victory at Palaeopolis, extend the leadership of Philo beyond his term so he can finish the job. This sets a precedent later used by Marius and Sulla, who retain consulships for protracted periods; in turn, this allows Caesar to retain power long enough to turn his soldiers’ loyalty to him, and he seizes Rome. Had the Romans not begun the habit of extending terms of high office, perhaps “they would also have fallen more slowly into servitude” (316). 

In the Roman Republic, anyone, no matter how poor, can become a leader. Cincinnatus, a leader who retires to his small farm, is recalled as dictator to settle a dangerous military situation. He saves the trapped legions but refuses them their reward, saying: “I do not want you to share in spoils taken from those who almost despoiled you” (317). Cincinnatus then returns to his farm. Thus, “in Rome honour was paid to poverty, and that, for a good and valiant man like Cincinnatus, four jugers [two acres] of land were enough to feed him” (317). 

A rivalry breaks out in a Roman city between plebeians and nobles over the hand of a woman in marriage; troops mass on both sides; the nobles win, and the losing parties are executed. This is one example of how disputes over women can damage a city: “Among the principal causes Aristotle gives for the downfall of tyrants is the one of having injured others through women by raping them, violating them, or breaking up marriages” (319). 

There is one way to control a city beset by rivalries: “[T]he method of how to reunite a divided city […] consists of nothing else, nor can the wound be healed in any other way, but executing the leaders of the disturbances” (320). Forcing the combatants to make peace will fail, since “where much blood has been spilled or other similar injuries have been inflicted, it is impossible for a peace made by force to endure, with the parties meeting face to face every day” (320).

The Florentines try, beginning in 1502, to settle a bloody feud between families in Pistoia by making peace between them, but “greater disorders and greater embarrassments always arose from it” (320). Florence then tries imprisonment, which finally quiets things. Still, as one historian puts it, “while the Florentines tried to reunite Pistoia, they divided themselves” (321). 

During a famine, a rich Roman decides to provide grain to the people at no charge. The senate orders the man executed. Good deeds should be rewarded, but not if they amount to buying the goodwill of others, “which make men partisans and give the man who is so favored the courage to corrupt the public and to weaken the laws” (323). 

When a people are lawless, it is usually because their rulers are lawless. One impoverished principality’s leaders take to robbery, and soon their citizens do the same: “Lorenzo de’ Medici, in confirmation of this maxim, declares: What the ruler does, many do afterward, For the eyes of all are fixed on their lord” (324). 

Camillus becomes Roman dictator for a fourth time and commands obedience because of his excellent character, “and having always conducted that office for the benefit of the public rather than for his own, had acted in such a way that men did not fear his greatness” (325). Most leaders are less fortunate, having to face the envy of others. Killing them is safest but hard to carry out. Being nice will fail, since “kindness is insufficient, fortune varies, and malice receives no gift that placates her” (326). Florentine leaders Soderini and Savonarola both lose power because they cannot overcome the envy of those who crave their office.

It is best, in defending a city, to do so in an orderly manner. Simply to let Romans arm themselves to defend their streets invites chaos, so Camillus organizes an army to guard the capital, “while ordering those who are not enrolled, each and every one, to stay in their homes to guard them”; any leader “who will do otherwise will fail to imitate Camillus and will fail to defend himself” (327). 

For Rome, “in difficult times the Romans were never afraid nor were they humbled. On the other hand, prosperous times never made them insolent” (328). Venice, by contrast, is haughty in victory and pleading in defeat. On one occasion, “after no more than a semi-defeat, they came to this state of unhappiness” (329), even though most of their forces have survived.

The Romans maintain an army of citizens who train regularly and are reminded by their commanders to keep a good attitude during the ups and downs of war. Unlike Venice, such a city “will act with the same spirit on all occasions, and they will maintain the same dignity” (331). 

One way to convince an army never to give up is to get them to commit an atrocity, one which will condemn them during a peace agreement. Soldiers, dissatisfied with their pay from the Carthaginians, attack Carthage. The city sends an emissary, but the soldiers’ leaders inspire them to torture and murder the emissary and his entourage, thus giving them no way out other than total victory. 

A confident army is one that has long trained together, respects its commanders, and observes religious traditions that inspire a sense of impending good fortune: “For in these small things there is the power to keep the soldiers united and confident, which is the primary reason for every victory” (333).

Omens are less important, though, than skill. Says one commander to his second at a battle where the enemy has the advantage in omens: “put your trust in arms and morale, and charge their center at the gallop” (333); this leads to victory. 

Citizens choose their leaders based on three things: the reputation of the candidate’s relatives, the stature of the company he keeps, and the good deeds he has performed. The first two things merely hint at quality, but the third demonstrates it clearly, especially if the deeds are many and great. A prince receives private advice on his appointments, while a people often hear public voices raised in support of or against a candidate, and “the people make better assignments than a prince” (335). 

It is risky to give advice in a dangerous undertaking, for if the project goes badly, the advisor will be blamed. The best approach in giving advice is “speaking your mind without passion and, without passion, defending it with modesty; so that, if the city or the prince follows this advice, they follow it willingly, without it appearing that they are pulled along by your insistence” (339). Such advisors reap less glory but also avoid exile or execution if things go badly; likewise, if their modest advice is not taken and events turn sour, they will look good while their opponents suffer.

Either way, an advisor must give recommendations to his leader at the right time. King Perseus of Macedonia is routed in battle and escapes, whereupon an advisor lists the mistakes the king has made. The king, enraged, shouts, “Traitor, so you have put off telling me until now when I have no other remedy!” (339) and kills him. 

The Gauls and their descendants, the French, are ferocious at the outset of battle but tend to lose heart and give up. This is due to their lack of organization and discipline: “On the contrary, the Romans, fearing dangers less because of their good organization and having no doubt about victory, fought firmly and stubbornly with the same courage and skill at the conclusion as at the beginning” (341). Recent Italian armies have neither ferocity nor organization and are “completely useless” (341). 

It is foolish to base the outcome of a war on a skirmish, but it is useful to engage in a skirmish “so that by beginning to know and to deal with the enemy, the troops will lose the terror that their fame and reputation have provoked in them” (343).

A commander only undertakes a skirmish with “an enormous advantage and the hope of certain victory” (343). As well, no city or pass that is not vital should be protected: “Thus, every time something is lost that is abandoned and the army is still intact, your reputation in war is not lost nor is the hope of winning” (343). 

“It is my deeds, not my words, soldiers […] which I want you to follow” (345), says Corvinus to Roman troops before a battle with the Samnites. A great commander must inspire his men, but only after he has “trained them for several months in mock battles and made them accustomed to obedience and discipline” (346). If he has enough recruits, a great leader can build a great army. 

Hunting is great training for war: it helps a soldier learn how to stalk and flush out an enemy, and how to read “the lay of the land” (347). One Roman army enters a valley, but its leaders quickly realize they can be trapped there; they notice a hill that, once taken, can protect their escape. In this way, their hunters’ instincts save them.

Deceit is dishonorable except in war, when it is virtuous if used against an enemy. Hannibal is famous for his tricks, including false retreats and, when escaping during one battle, “he lit the horns of his cattle” (349). 

If a city can be saved through shameful means, it must be done. A Roman army, trapped by the Samnites, is to be sent home disarmed and in shame. A Roman official advises the consuls that the safety of Rome depends on this army, and that it is better to return in dishonor than die and be of no use, if that will help the city. Thus, “putting aside every other reservation, one should follow in its entirety the policy that saves its life and preserves its liberty” (350). 

When the vanquished Roman army returns home, its consul, Postumius, argues that the city can abrogate the treaty imposed on it simply by sending him back to the Samnites as a prisoner. This is done, and Postumius informs the Samnites that the treaty is expunged; they release him back to Rome. Additionally, Postumius demonstrates that “in defeat [glory] is acquired either by demonstrating that such a defeat did not occur through any fault of yours, or by immediately executing some worthy action that cancels it” (351). 

To know how countries will behave, one must study their past behaviors, and one quickly learns that “they have always acted in the same way and have always employed the same methods in every instance and with everyone” (352). For example, Gaul agrees, for a fee, to defend the Etruscans against Rome, but once they receive payment they balk and blame the Etruscans. The Gauls’ descendants, the French, do exactly the same thing to Florence when it tries to purchase France’s help in a fight with another power. Thus, “the French have always employed the same expedients, and for this reason, it is easy to speculate on how much faith princes can have in them” (353). 

Sometimes it is possible to get help by demanding it under a tight time frame. The Samnite army, chased by the Romans, enters Etruria and insists that the Etruscans should join them against Rome; Etruria, rushed, complies. In a later era, the pope marches his forces against Bologna, telling the Venetians to stand down and ordering France to send reinforcements, leaving them no time to vacillate: “[S]eeing that deferring or negating his request would result in a very obvious provocation of the pope, they both gave in to his wishes” (354). 

Consuls Fabius and Decius together face Samnites and Etruscans; Decius attacks forcefully, but his soldiers soon fade; Fabius goes on the defensive, allowing the enemy to strike blows but parrying them while waiting for the opponents to wear themselves out. Decius’s forces, meanwhile, are losing, so Decius leaps onto the field and dies fighting, while Fabius brings out his reserves and wins the battle: “Thus, it is evident that Fabius’ method of proceeding is more secure and imitable” (355). 

Like cities, families have distinct traits and tendencies. This persists despite marriages, as “[s]uch a thing cannot arise solely from blood-lines” (356): “We can see that the Manlius family was tough and stubborn, the Publicola family was kind and friendly to the people, the Appius family ambitious and hostile to the plebeians” (356). An Appian, becoming censor, refuses to retire after the 18-month term expires, insisting that the law permits five years; nothing can be done about it. In one of his speeches there is “all the usual Appian insolence” (356). 

During a war, a consul is seriously wounded, and senators want the other consul, Fabius, to nominate Papirius Cursor as dictator to save the situation. Fabius and Cursor, however, are personal enemies. Fabius agrees, “moved by love for his native city, even though, through his silence and in many other ways, he indicated that such a nomination weighed heavily upon him” (357). This is an example of good citizenship. 

When the consul is away, a legate oversees the army stationed in Etruria. He notices a group of shepherds wandering too close to the Roman fort; disbelieving that shepherds would not make so foolish a choice, he suspects a ruse and saves the fort from attack. The Gauls, having defeated a Roman army, arrive at the gates of Rome to find them open and unguarded. Suspicious, they refuse to enter the city. In these situations, “a commander of armies must not trust an error that is committed by the enemy in an obvious way; there will always be some form of deceit behind it” (358). 

Roman law provides severe penalties for criminals, and the Roman military has no qualms about banishing or executing soldiers who disobey. When Rome gives citizenship to foreigners, however, their descendants begin to move into the city, “so that the government began to change, departing from those policies and those men it was accustomed to employ” (359). The censor, Quintus Fabius, organizes the city’s population into four sections, “so that they could not, reduced to such small spaces, corrupt all of Rome” (359).