Lehal Library

‘The death of conversation’, Talleyrand opined. Certainly, when a leader has to rely on appearing respectable to claim legitimacy, he is on thin ice indeed. To this ­long-­drawn-­out conspiracy of pomp and pious circumstance, Machiavelli’s little book was a constant threat. It reminded people that power is always up for grabs, always a question of what can be taken by force or treachery, and always, despite all protests to the contrary, the prime concern of any ruler. In their attempt to dis- credit The Prince, both religious and state authorities played up the author’s admiration for the ruthless Borgia, and never mentioned his perception that in the long run a ruler must avoid being hated by his people and must always put their interests before those of the aristocracy; the people are so many, Machiavelli reflected, that power ultimately lies with them. Liberal and ­left-­wing thinkers were not slow to pick up on this aspect of the book. As Rousseau saw it, the whole of The Prince was itself a Machiavellian ruse: the author had only pretended to give lessons to kings whereas in fact his real aim was to teach people to be free by showing them that royal power was no more than subterfuge. Both Spi- noza and, later, the Italian poet Ugo Foscolo saw it the same way: The Prince was a cautionary tale about how power really worked, the underlying intention being to deprive those who held it of dignity and glamour and teach the people as a whole how to resist it; Machiavelli after all declared himself a republican and a libertarian. The