Chapter 14 — A Prince's Subject of War

The claim with which the chapter opens is not softened or qualified: a prince should have no other aim or thought, and select nothing else for his study, than war and its rules and discipline. This is the sole art that belongs to the ruler. Machiavelli immediately demonstrates the claim's explanatory power: it is why princes who devoted themselves to pleasures have lost their states, and why men from private station have risen to principalities by mastering military command. Francesco Sforza — the condottiere who became Duke of Milan — is the implicit example behind both propositions.

The practical regimen Machiavelli prescribes has two components. The physical component is hunting: a prince should organise regular hunts that accustom his body to hardship and, more importantly, teach him the nature of terrain — how mountains rise, how valleys open, how plains spread, where rivers ford, where marshes form. This knowledge transfers directly to military planning. The intellectual component is historical study: reading about illustrious commanders, examining what made them successful or what caused their defeat, and identifying a model to emulate. Scipio Africanus is the example — the Roman general who studied the campaigns of Cyrus the Great and adapted what he found useful.

Philopoemen, the Achaean general whom ancient writers praised as the last of the Greeks, provides the methodological model. He could not walk through the countryside with friends without stopping to think through military scenarios: if the enemy held that ridge and our forces were here, who would have the advantage? What approach would allow us to maintain our formation? What retreat would be viable? This constant mental exercise converted every landscape into a tactical problem and every peaceful outing into preparation for war. Machiavelli holds this up not as an eccentricity but as the correct attitude toward the terrain of one's country — which is, first and last, terrain one may need to defend.