LXIII. If by all, or any of these means, which are very probable ones, you should be enabled to protect and preserve Pompey, you would make yourself, sir, the most glorious prince in the world. The Romans would adore you, as the vindicator and defender of their liberty, and would look upon this kingdom, as the only temple which has afforded sanctuary to, and preserved their idol. Other nations will applaud your generous gratitude, and seeing how faithfully you have behaved to your benefactor, there is no prince whatever, who will not be ready and desirous to render you his services. What you may expect from Pompey, is not in my power to express, nor in my imagination to conceive.
LXIV. But admitting, sir, that these well founded hopes should be frustrated, and that heaven should continue to prosper the arms of Cæsar, that Fortune should regulate the motions of its inconstant wheel, so as that it shall always turn in his favour; that we should see the Roman legions batter down the walls of Alexandria, and afterwards be witnesses to the demolition of those of Memphis, and behold all the other cities of Lower Ægypt in danger of being destroyed; and that in consequence of this, we find ourselves under an absolute necessity of capitulating with Cæsar; which is the greatest difficulty and distress, to which we can be driven by Fortune; but please to observe, sir, that although you should be reduced to this necessity, you would even then find your affairs in a better state, than there is any probability of your finding them, provided you follow the advice that has been given you by Theodotus. Cæsar would require you to deliver up Pompey, and it is most likely would offer you in return, the restitution of all he has conquered; for the whole country that is inundated by the Nile, would be of but little value to him, compared to the possession of a person, who by a thousand accidents, might have it in his power to overturn his whole empire. You might then make this exchange, and remain master of your kingdom, and might justify yourself to all the world, by pleading the hard law of necessity as an excuse for what you did. But what infatuation, what madness would it be, sir, for you to persuade yourself, that it would be right at this time to put Pompey treacherously to death, without more advantage to yourself, than what you might obtain hereafter, by delivering him up without infamy? I have said without more advantage, and I ought to add to it with greater danger. If you commit so base an action, it is probable that Cæsar, either from motives of virtue, or excited to it by hypocrisy, will punish you severely. If you think him generous, you must conclude that he will be extremely irritated against you, both for your cruelty, and your ingratitude, and because you offered him a provoking indignity, by supposing him capable of accepting a treachery for a compliment; and because also, you deprived him of a precious opportunity, of manifesting his clemency to Pompey in distress. If you consider him only as an ambitious and profound politician, you may suppose he will act the same part from motives of dissimulation, that he would have acted from motives of generosity, and to gain credit with the world, would treat you as a delinquent. You will have none of this to apprehend, when, forced to it by necessity, you find yourself obliged to deliver up Pompey, because in this last case, the reasons for treating you in the manner we have just been describing will not exist, and because also it was never known, that Cæsar failed to preserve the faith of his engagements, or that he treated with cruelty, those he had vanquished.
LXV. Nor should we omit, that Cæsar’s good opinion of your personal conduct to Pompey, may co-operate with his virtue, and have an influence on his policy. Cæsar is not ignorant, that you have always been well affected to Pompey and his cause, and when Cæsar finds Pompey has perished by your hands, he will readily conclude, that you would have dealt the same treatment to him, and with a better will, provided the victor had been the vanquished. Consider now, what sort of an opinion Cæsar must entertain of you, when he reflects, that your not committing the same treachery by him, is owing to his fortune, and not your good-will, but that in spite of your malevolent disposition, his fortune has insured his safety.
LXVI. The arguments, sir, with which I have proved, that without attending to the justice of the case, it was more for your interest to protect than to destroy Pompey, will serve to prove, that it will be more beneficial to you to entertain him than to send him away. The sending him away, will not oblige Cæsar, but will offend Pompey, and will also make you appear ungrateful in the eyes of the whole world. Pompey driven from this coast, will become a wanderer by sea and by land, in search of some safe hole or corner, wherein to hide himself, till the desperation of one, or the conspiracy of many, shall deprive Cæsar of his life; and in all probability, it will not be long, before this contingent happens. If this event should fall out, Pompey would then be master in much greater security than he ever was, of all that Cæsar at present enjoys. Consider now, if this should ever be the case, what you would have reason to expect from his hands for driving him out of your kingdom, after he had fixed the crown on the head of your father. Cæsar while he rules, as he is not ignorant that you are disaffected to him, will always consider you as an enemy, who only wants power or resolution to act openly as such. The service of your abandoning Pompey, will not oblige him, and will debase you, for he cannot fail to see clearly, that you did it through fear. His dislike to you will continue, and you will add to it, his contempt and disesteem.
LXVII. Further, if you receive and entertain Pompey benignly, you may in consequence of doing it, give yourself credit to a certain amount, for having both Pompey and Cæsar in some degree under your influence, Pompey, in virtue of having him within your dominions; and Cæsar, because he would be disposed to grant you very advantageous conditions, to prevail on you to deliver Pompey up. But I would not have it understood, that I mean to recommend this, as what you ought to do; for my opinion is, that you should absolutely risk every thing to preserve Pompey, because you owe every thing to him. This is what true virtue dictates; but the predicament we are in at present, is that of consulting and considering, the reasons of state and policy for receiving Pompey with a determination of defending him, and at the same time not to extend that defence so far as to endanger the loss of your kingdom. It is true, this would not be doing enough to entitle you to the applause of the world as a generous man; but it would be sufficient to prevent your being condemned as an unjust one. You would save your honour, and not neglect your interest; and the judgment of heaven, with respect to such a conduct, would coincide with that of the world. Pompey would find himself under great obligations to you: Cæsar might perhaps be irritated against you; but the emotions of his anger, would soon give way to his own convenience, and even to yours. If the gods, as they are able to do, should prosper our arms under the command of Pompey, all the world will respect your person, your virtue, and your power; and in spite of all Cæsar can do, after you have sustained the losses enumerated, which will be sufficient to excuse your conduct in the eye of the world, you will at last, by delivering up Pompey, be able to repair all your damage.
LXVIII. This speech appeared to me proper to introduce here, not only for the entertainment of the reader, but for his benefit and caution also; for having in this discourse set forth so many maxims and examples of tyrannic policy, I was apprehensive, that some people of weak understandings, might persuade themselves, it would be convenient and useful to practise them, if I did not at the same time, together with the poison, administer the antidote, and shew by such an example, that the violent expedients which Machiavelianism proposes as convenient, are in general hurtful and pernicious, or at least insecure and not to be relied on, and that in the very cases in which they are represented to be necessary, there are others that might be hit upon, which would answer the purpose much better, and which would admit of reconciling the useful with the honest, provided there is an upright will to adopt them, and a clear understanding to search out and apply them; so that what they call refined policy, is nothing more than a political dross or scum, and the production of gross geniuses, who do not search deeper than the superficies of things. The Machiavelians, seldom attend to more than the immediate effect of the blow their malice meditates, without reflecting, that the political machine is many times disposed to move in such a variety of directions, that it often runs back on, and crushes him who first set it in motion. I have said before, and I repeat it again, that the instances of perverse politicians who have been happy for any length of time, are very few, and that those few, have seldom been blessed with more than a transient ray of the splendor of fortune; and have been almost all shipwrecked by a sudden change of the wind, when they thought themselves sailing on with a favourable gale, and in the most prosperous manner. What infatuation then is it, to pursue a course, where all the rocks in the track of it, are stained with the blood of unhappy sufferers? Or who, with any reasonable expectation of success, can hope to make his fortune, by following and adopting the maxims of Machiavel, knowing the author of them lived poor and despised, and died miserable and abhorred? Perhaps this impious politician, may not improperly be compared to the unhappy Phlegyas described by Virgil, who was not undeceived, till his being convinced of the delusion he had been under could be of no service to him, and who with bitter expressions of lamentation, and in a hideous tone of voice, proclaimed the error of his detestable maxims, to the whole miserable group of the damned:
—Phlegyasque miserrimus omnes
Admonet, & magna testatur voce per umbras:
Discite justitiam, moniti, & non temnere Divos.