the new machiavelli-第2章

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was　Caesar　Borgia　of　Giuliano　or　Lorenzo；　but　a　Prince　it　had　to　be。　　

Before　I　saw　clearly　the　differences　of　our　own　time　I　searched　my　

mind　for　the　modern　equivalent　of　a　Prince。　　At　various　times　I　

redrafted　a　parallel　dedication　to　the　Prince　of　Wales；　to　the　

Emperor　William；　to　Mr。　Evesham；　to　a　certain　newspaper　proprietor　

who　was　once　my　schoolfellow　at　City　Merchants'；　to　Mr。　J。　D。　

Rockefellerall　of　them　men　in　their　several　ways　and　circumstances　

and　possibilities；　princely。　　Yet　in　every　case　my　pen　bent　of　its　

own　accord　towards　irony　becausebecause；　although　at　first　I　did　

not　realise　it；　I　myself　am　just　as　free　to　be　a　prince。　　The　appeal　

was　unfair。　　The　old　sort　of　Prince；　the　old　little　principality　has　

vanished　from　the　world。　　The　commonweal　is　one　man's　absolute　

estate　and　responsibility　no　more。　　In　Machiavelli's　time　it　was　

indeed　to　an　extreme　degree　one　man's　affair。　　But　the　days　of　the　

Prince　who　planned　and　directed　and　was　the　source　and　centre　of　all　

power　are　ended。　　We　are　in　a　condition　of　affairs　infinitely　more　

complex；　in　which　every　prince　and　statesman　is　something　of　a　

servant　and　every　intelligent　human　being　something　of　a　Prince。　　No　

magnificent　pensive　Lorenzos　remain　any　more　in　this　world　for　

secretarial　hopes。



In　a　sense　it　is　wonderful　how　power　has　vanished；　in　a　sense　

wonderful　how　it　has　increased。　　I　sit　here；　an　unarmed　discredited　

man；　at　a　small　writing…table　in　a　little　defenceless　dwelling　among　

the　vines；　and　no　human　being　can　stop　my　pen　except　by　the　

deliberate　self…immolation　of　murdering　me；　nor　destroy　its　fruits　

except　by　theft　and　crime。　　No　King；　no　council；　can　seize　and　

torture　me；　no　Church；　no　nation　silence　me。　　Such　powers　of　

ruthless　and　complete　suppression　have　vanished。　　But　that　is　not　

because　power　has　diminished；　but　because　it　has　increased　and　

become　multitudinous；　because　it　has　dispersed　itself　and　

specialised。　　It　is　no　longer　a　negative　power　we　have；　but　

positive；　we　cannot　prevent；　but　we　can　do。　　This　age；　far　beyond　

all　previous　ages；　is　full　of　powerful　men；　men　who　might；　if　they　

had　the　will　for　it；　achieve　stupendous　things。



The　things　that　might　be　done　to…day！　　The　things　indeed　that　are　

being　done！　　It　is　the　latter　that　give　one　so　vast　a　sense　of　the　

former。　　When　I　think　of　the　progress　of　physical　and　mechanical　

science；　of　medicine　and　sanitation　during　the　last　century；　when　I　

measure　the　increase　in　general　education　and　average　efficiency；　

the　power　now　available　for　human　service；　the　merely　physical　

increment；　and　compare　it　with　anything　that　has　ever　been　at　man's　

disposal　before；　and　when　I　think　of　what　a　little　straggling；　

incidental；　undisciplined　and　uncoordinated　minority　of　inventors；　

experimenters；　educators；　writers　and　organisers　has　achieved　this　

development　of　human　possibilities；　achieved　it　in　spite　of　the　

disregard　and　aimlessness　of　the　huge　majority；　and　the　passionate　

resistance　of　the　active　dull；　my　imagination　grows　giddy　with　

dazzling　intimations　of　the　human　splendours　the　justly　organised　

state　may　yet　attain。　　I　glimpse　for　a　bewildering　instant　the　

heights　that　may　be　scaled；　the　splendid　enterprises　made　possible。



But　the　appeal　goes　out　now　in　other　forms；　in　a　book　that　catches　

at　thousands　of　readers　for　the　eye　of　a　Prince　diffused。　　It　is　the　

old　appeal　indeed　for　the　unification　of　human　effort；　the　ending　of　

confusions；　but　instead　of　the　Machiavellian　deference　to　a　

flattered　lord；　a　man　cries　out　of　his　heart　to　the　unseen　

fellowship　about　him。　　The　last　written　dedication　of　all　those　I　

burnt　last　night；　was　to　no　single　man；　but　to　the　socially　

constructive　passionin　any　man。　。　。　。



There　is；　moreover；　a　second　great　difference　in　kind　between　my　

world　and　Machiavelli's。　　We　are　discovering　women。　　It　is　as　if　

they　had　come　across　a　vast　interval　since　his　time；　into　the　very　

chamber　of　the　statesman。





2



In　Machiavelli's　outlook　the　interest　of　womanhood　was　in　a　region　

of　life　almost　infinitely　remote　from　his　statecraft。　　They　were　the　

vehicle　of　children；　but　only　Imperial　Rome　and　the　new　world　of　to…

day　have　ever　had　an　inkling　of　the　significance　that　might　give　

them　in　the　state。　　They　did　their　work；　he　thought；　as　the　ploughed　

earth　bears　its　crops。　　Apart　from　their　function　of　fertility　they　

gave　a　humorous　twist　to　life；　stimulated　worthy　men　to　toil；　and　

wasted　the　hours　of　Princes。　　He　left　the　thought　of　women　outside　

with　his　other　dusty　things　when　he　went　into　his　study　to　write；　

dismissed　them　from　his　mind。　　But　our　modern　world　is　burthened　

with　its　sense　of　the　immense；　now　half　articulate；　significance　of　

women。　　They　stand　now；　as　it　were；　close　beside　the　silver　

candlesticks；　speaking　as　Machiavelli　writes；　until　he　stays　his　pen　

and　turns　to　discuss　his　writing　with　them。



It　is　this　gradual　discovery　of　sex　as　a　thing　collectively　

portentous　that　I　have　to　mingle　with　my　statecraft　if　my　picture　is　

to　be　true　which　has　turned　me　at　length　from　a　treatise　to　the　

telling　of　my　own　story。　　In　my　life　I　have　paralleled　very　closely　

the　slow　realisations　that　are　going　on　in　the　world　about　me。　　I　

began　life　ignoring　women；　they　came　to　me　at　first　perplexing　and　

dishonouring；　only　very　slowly　and　very　late　in　my　life　and　after　

misadventure；　did　I　gauge　the　power　and　beauty　of　the　love　of　man　

and　woman　and　learnt　how　it　must　needs　frame　a　justifiable　vision　of　

the　ordered　world。　　Love　has　brought　me　to　disaster；　because　my　

career　had　been　planned　regardless　of　its　possibility　and　value。　　

But　Machiavelli；　it　seems　to　me；　when　he　went　into　his　study；　left　

not　only　the　earth　of　life　outside　but　its　unsuspected　soul。





3



Like　Machiavelli　at　San　Casciano；　if　I　may　take　this　analogy　one　

step　further；　I　too　am　an　exile。　　Office　and　leading　are　closed　to　

me。　　The　political　career　that　promised　so　much　for　me　is　shattered　

and　ended　for　ever。



I　look　out　from　this　vine…wreathed　veranda　under　the　branches　of　a　

stone　pine；　I　see　wide　and　far　across　a　purple　valley　whose　sides　

are　terraced　and　set　with　houses　of　pine　and　ivory；　the　Gulf　of　

Liguria　gleaming　sapphire　blue；　and　cloud…like　baseless　mountains　

hanging　in　the　sky；　and　I　think　of　lank　and　coaly　steamships　heaving　

on　the　grey　rollers　of　the　English　Channel　and　darkling　streets　wet　

with　rain；　I　recall　as　if　I　were　back　there　the　busy　exit　from　

Charing　Cross；　the　cross　and　the　money…changers'　offices；　the　

splendid　grime　of　giant　London　and　the　crowds　going　perpetually　to　

and　fro；　the　lights　by　night　and　the　urgency　and　eventfulness　of　

that　great　rain…swept　heart　of　the　modern　world。



It　is　difficult　to　think　we　have　left　thatfor　many　years　if　not　

for　ever。　　In　thought　I　walk　once　more　in　Palace　Yard　and　hear　the　

clink　and　clatter　of　hansoms　and　the　quick　quiet　whirr　of　motors；　I　

go　in　vivid　recent　memories　through　the　stir　in　the　lobbies；　I　sit　

again　at　eventful　dinners　in　those　old　dining…rooms　like　cellars　

below　the　Housedinners　that　ended　with　shrill　division　bells；　I　

think　of　huge　clubs　swarming　and　excited　by　the　bulletins　of　that　

electoral　battle　that　was　for　me　the　opening　opportunity。　　I　see　the　

stencilled　names　and　numbers　go　up　on　the　green　baize；　constituency　

after　constituency；　amidst　murmurs　or　loud　shouting。　。　。　。



It　is　over　for　me　now　and　vanished。　　That　opportunity　will　come　no　

more。　　Very　probably　you　have　heard　already　some　crude　inaccurate　

version　of　our　story　and　why　I　did　not　take　office；　and　have　formed　

your　partial　judgement　on　me。　　And　so　it　is　I　sit　now　at　my　stone　

table；　half　out　of　life　already；　in　a　warm；　large；　shadowy　leisure；　

splashed　with　sunlight　and　hung　with　vine　tendrils；　with　paper　

before　me　to　distil　such　wisdom　as　I　can；　as　Machiavelli　in　his　

exile　sought　to　do；　from　t