Slavery

Slavery denotes the loss of political freedom and independent agency under a superior power. In the work, it is not treated as a single social condition with one institutional form; it appears across conquered provinces, centralized kingdoms, foreign occupation, and the political origins of new rulers. Its central feature is dependence: those subjected to a prince may obey because they are compelled, because they lack alternative leaders, or because the institutions that once enabled collective resistance have been removed.

Political Subjection and the Loss of Freedom

A newly acquired state that has previously lived under its own laws presents a different problem from one accustomed to princely rule. Free cities retain the memory of their former institutions and can turn the name of liberty and their ancient laws against a conqueror whenever his fortunes decline. A population accustomed to obedience, by contrast, has been formed by dependence on a ruler and may lack both the habit and the organization required to choose a leader from within its own ranks.

This distinction explains why a conquered principality can sometimes be held after the ruling line has been extinguished. Its citizens are accustomed to obeying, yet deprived of the authority to which their obedience was directed; they are therefore less able to unite around an independent political alternative. A stranger may gain them over and attach them to his cause because the old order has left them trained for submission rather than prepared for self-government. Slavery in this political sense is thus not only physical coercion. It is also the destruction or absence of the civic capacities through which a community might restore its freedom.

Centralized Rule and Dependent Subjects

The contrast between the Turkish empire and the Kingdom of France provides the clearest institutional comparison. The Turkish empire is described as governed by a sole prince, with all others functioning as slaves and serving at his pleasure. The sovereign divides the empire into administrative districts and appoints governors whom he can shift or remove. Authority is therefore concentrated in the ruler, while subordinate officials possess no independent hereditary base and do not command a natural affection among subjects of their own.

This centralized structure makes the empire difficult to conquer because an invader cannot easily be invited in by a native nobility. The officials surrounding the sovereign are dependent on him and cannot readily carry the people with them even if they are corrupted. An attacker must therefore rely on direct military strength rather than internal defections. Yet once the sovereign has been utterly defeated, his armies destroyed, and his family extinguished, the conqueror faces comparatively little further resistance, since the remaining officials have neither independent credit nor a popular following.

The Kingdom of France represents the opposite pattern. Its ancient nobles possess rank by descent, hold states and subjects of their own, and are recognized and loved as local rulers. Such a structure makes invasion easier because a discontented baron can open the way to a foreign power. But it makes occupation harder: the conqueror must contend not only with the former ruling family but also with the surviving lords who can lead new movements. Slavery, understood as a centralized relation between sovereign and dependent servants, therefore produces a different strategic result from a layered aristocratic order. The former resists invasion but may be easier to retain after conquest; the latter may facilitate invasion but continually renews resistance.

Conquest, Administration, and Resistance

The treatment of conquered territories depends partly on whether their language, customs, and laws resemble those of the conqueror. States sharing the same province and tongue can be incorporated more easily if the ancient ruling line is destroyed and no alteration is made in laws or taxes. Continuity in administration allows the newly acquired population to merge into the hereditary dominion without a sharp rupture in daily political life.

Where language, usages, and laws differ, the conqueror faces greater difficulty. Residence by the prince can make domination more secure because disorders are detected early, remedies can be applied immediately, and the population is protected from the depredations of distant officials. Colonies offer another means of control: they serve as strategic keys to the province at less expense than a large army, while those dispossessed of their fields and houses are left too scattered and poor to become dangerous. The administrative logic is coercive but calculated. A small group is directly injured so that the larger population can be quieted, watched, and deterred from rebellion.

The contrast between free communities and subordinated provinces remains decisive. The Spartans held Athens and Thebes by installing oligarchies but eventually lost them. The Romans retained Capua, Carthage, and Numantia by destroying them, whereas their attempt to preserve Greece under its own laws and freedom failed and required the destruction of many cities. A free city preserves a political memory that benefits, tribute, and the passage of time cannot entirely erase. A population reduced to dependence may be easier to govern, but the work of maintaining that dependence remains inseparable from the threat of force.

Slavery as a Foundation of Rule

The work also connects slavery with the foundations of princely power. Rulers who rise through good fortune, money, or the favor of another sovereign acquire authority easily but often lack the knowledge and power needed to preserve it. Their position depends on those who made them great, and they may possess neither experienced command nor faithful troops. Unless they rapidly learn to defend what Fortune has placed in their hands, the state has no deep foundation and can be overturned by the first storm.

The same principle appears in military form. Mercenaries have no bond with the state beyond their pay; they may plunder in peace, disappear when war begins, and prove cowardly before enemies. Auxiliary troops are still more dangerous because they are united and remain under the control of the foreign power that supplies them. If they are defeated, the prince is ruined; if they win, he becomes their prisoner. The example of Turkish troops summoned into Greece illustrates how foreign assistance can become permanent subjection: after the war ended, the soldiers refused to leave, and their presence began Greece’s servitude to the infidel.

Slavery therefore names not only the condition of subjects but also the danger faced by rulers who surrender the means of coercion to others. A prince dependent on foreign arms may appear powerful while lacking the actual capacity to command. Secure rule requires institutions and forces tied to the prince’s own authority rather than to the will of mercenaries, auxiliaries, or external patrons.

Servitude, Opportunity, and Liberation

The political meaning of slavery is given its most urgent expression in the final appeal concerning Italy. Italy is depicted as more enslaved than the Hebrews in Egypt, more oppressed than the Persians under the Medes, and more disunited than the Athenians before Theseus. The comparison transforms servitude into a historical condition demanding a founder or liberator. As bondage created the circumstances in which Moses could lead the children of Israel away from Egypt, and oppression enabled Cyrus to reveal his capacity among the Persians, Italy’s degradation is presented as the opportunity through which an Italian hero might display virtue.

This appeal does not erase the violence of subjection. Italy has been beaten, spoiled, divided, overrun, and abandoned; Lombardy suffers devastation, while Naples and Tuscany endure exactions and imposts. Yet the same condition that exposes a people to domination may also create a political opening. Italy is said to be ready to follow any standard if someone will raise it, because the absence of a head and order has produced both misery and a desire for rescue.

Slavery thus functions as a political diagnosis and a dramatic threshold. It marks the extreme failure of independent government, but it also supplies the crisis from which a new principality might arise. The work’s governing tension is that liberation requires power capable of ending subjection, while the methods of founding and securing that power may themselves depend on coercion, military strength, and the destruction of rival institutions.