that the ruler in question should be the man to rid Italy of
foreign oppression.
Who was this ruler? Shortly before Machiavelli had been
released from prison, Pope Julius had died and been
replaced by Giovanni de’ Medici, il Magnifico’s son, the
man who had become a cardinal at thirteen. This was
March 1513. When he started work on The Prince some
months later, Machiavelli had intended to dedicate the
book to Giovanni’s brother, Giuliano, who had been put
in charge of Florence after the Medicis’ return. However,
when the effeminate Giuliano began to move away from
politics and was replaced in Florence by his aggressive,
warlike nephew Lorenzo, Machiavelli decided to switch
the dedication to the younger man.
Thus far the writer showed himself flexible in the face
of changing events. Yet there is something ingenuous and
almost endearing in the clever diplomat’s miscalculation
here. The brilliant reasoning required to convince yourself
that you had got a grip on politics and history, the profound
analysis that would demonstrate to your fellow intellectu-
als that you were as clear-headed as Livy, Tacitus and
Thucydides put together, were not the qualities that a
young and hardly well-read Medici prince was likely to
comprehend, never mind enjoy.
Given the book in 1515, Lorenzo probably never opened
it and certainly didn’t take time to study Machiavelli’s care-
fully crafted reflections. Then, even if he had read it, would