ewith to redress his wrongs, nor ever so far dishonour him as
to quell the stubborn spirit which prompts revenge. Of all dishonours
those done to the women of a household are the worst; after which come
such personal indignities as nerved the arm of Pausanias against Philip
of Macedon, and of many another against other princes; and, in our own
days, it was no other reason that moved Giulio Belanti to conspire
against Pandolfo, lord of Siena, than that Pandolfo, who had given him
his daughter to wife, afterwards took her from him, as presently shall
be told. Chief among the causes which led the Pazzi to conspire against
the Medici, was the law passed by the latter depriving them of the
inheritance of Giovanni Bonromei.
Another most powerful motive to conspire against a prince is the desire
men feel to free their country from a usurper. This it was which
impelled Brutus and Cassius to conspire against Caesar, and countless
others against such tyrants as Phalaris, Dionysius, and the like.
Against this humour no tyrant can guard, except by laying down his
tyranny; which as none will do, few escape an unhappy end. Whence the
verses of Juvenal:--
"Few tyrants die a peaceful death, and few
The kings who visit Proserpine's dread lord,
Unscathed by wounds and blood."[2]
Great, as I have said already, are the dangers which men run in
conspiring; for at all times they are in peril, whether in contriving,
in executing, or after execution. And since in conspiracies either many
are engaged, or one only (for although it cannot properly be said of
_one_ man that he _conspires_, there may exist in him the fixed resolve
to put the prince to death), it is only the solitary plotter who escapes
the first of these three stages of danger. For he runs no risk before
executing his design, since as he imparts it to none, there is none to
bring it to the ear of the prince. A deliberate resolve like this may be
conceived by a person in any rank of life, high or low, base or noble,
and whether or no he be the familiar of his prince. For every one must,
at some time or other, have leave to speak to the prince, and whoever
has this leave has opportunity to accomplish his design. Pausanias, of
whom we have made mention so often, slew Philip of Macedon as he walked
between his son and his son-in-law to the temple, surrounded by a
thousand armed guards. Pausanias indeed was noble, and known to the
prince, but Ferdinand of Spain was stabbed in t
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