acquire new territory, i.e., how to conquer. But reading closely, one notices difficulties in
the argument: contradictions, omissions, seemingly irrelevant details, unsustainable
overstatements, minor revisions, and the like. Careful consideration of these difficulties
—especially Machiavelli’s peculiar use, and apparent misuse, of examples—leads the
reader to the deeper levels of his argument.
Just beneath his surface account of the rules of conquest, Machiavelli explains how to
liberate and unify Italy. The Prince, of course, culminates in an exhortation to do exactly
this. In Chapters 3 through 5, Machiavelli subtly indicates that this enterprise is no less
an act of conquest—with all the attendant brutality—if it is accomplished by a native
liberator rather than a foreign invader. Furthermore, he identifies the cause of Italy’s
division as the Christian Church—and not just the Church as a human institution, but the
Christian religion itself. On a deeper level, Machiavelli argues that Christianity is a
debilitating force that has fundamentally weakened the human spirit. For man to regain
his dignity and his rightful mastery over the world, Christianity itself must be conquered
and displaced.
But in order to conquer Christianity, one must first understand how
IV.
The qualities of the prince
(15-19)
V.
The prudence of the prince
(20-25)
The Medici and the liberation of Italy
(26)
“The hunt” is said to be “learning how to wage war by learning how to conquer a foreign province.” Chs. 1
& 2 are identified as “introductory chapters” and only with Chapter 3 are we said to reach “the beginning of
the hunt proper” (commentary p. 137).
2
This accounts for one of the reasons why Machiavelli wrote the way he did. Had he been more clear
about his intent, the resulting stigma would have scared away all or most of his potential readers. One
might object: but Machiavelli was recklessly outspoken, and his books were banned. To which I reply:
banned, yes, but they were still read and absorbed. Stigma is much more effective than censorship at
ensuring that a book is dismissed without being read. Bans, by inciting interest, often backfire. But stigma
—if it is the right kind of stigma—is surefire. One has only to think of the recent controversy surrounding
The Bell Curve, which acquired the stigma of racism. While the controversy surrounding the book helped
sales, the stigma ensured that the book could not even be considered, much less taken seriously, by elite
opinion. Elite opinion in Machiavelli’s day was a mix of orthodox Christianity and a secular humanism
deeply, if unwillingly or unconsciously, influenced by Christianity (cf. Mansfield, Virtue, p. 31-36). It is
one thing to recommend disreputable but time-honored political tactics that everyone knows are effective;
it is another to attack head-on the basic intellectual and religious tenets of one’s age. Thus it was precisely
—and paradoxically—Machiavelli’s carefully calibrated outspokenness that got his books a hearing.
Machiavelli knew what he was doing when he courted the reputation of an immoral but ruthlessly effective
sage. He ensured that he would always have an audience. As Harvey Mansfield has noted, “to have
written a book that is in the reader’s interest, whatever the level of his brain, is to have written a book that
5
Convention