EDWARD DACRES
1640
Published by David Nutt at the Sign of
the Phoenix long Acre
1905
Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers
to His Majesty
H.C.
[Sidenote: The Life of a Day.]
’I am at my farm; and, since my last misfortunes,
have not been in Florence twenty days. I spent
September in snaring thrushes; but at the end of the
month, even this rather tiresome sport failed me.
I rise with the sun, and go into a wood of mine that
is being cut, where I remain two hours inspecting
the work of the previous day and conversing with the
woodcutters, who have always some trouble on hand amongst
themselves or with their neighbours. When I leave
the wood, I go to a spring, and thence to the place
which I use for snaring birds, with a book under my
arm—Dante or Petrarch, or one of the minor
poets, like Tibullus or Ovid. I read the story
of their passions, and let their loves remind me of
my own, which is a pleasant pastime for a while.
Next I take the road, enter the inn door, talk with
the passers-by, inquire the news of the neighbourhood,
listen to a variety of matters, and make note of the
different tastes and humours of men.
’This brings me to dinner-time, when I join
my family and eat the poor produce of my farm.
After dinner I go back to the inn, where I generally
find the host and a butcher, a miller, and a pair of
bakers. With these companions I play the fool
all day at cards or backgammon: a thousand squabbles,
a thousand insults and abusive dialogues take place,
while we haggle over a farthing, and shout loud enough
to be heard from San Casciano.
’But when evening falls I go home and enter
my writing-room. On the threshold I put off my
country habits, filthy with mud and mire, and array
myself in royal courtly garments. Thus worthily
attired, I make my entrance into the ancient courts
of the men of old, where they receive me with love,
and where I feed upon that food which only is my own
and for which I was born. I feel no shame in
conversing with them and asking them the reason of
their actions.
‘They, moved by their humanity, make answer.
For four hours’ space I feel no annoyance, forget
all care; poverty cannot frighten, nor death appal
me. I am carried away to their society. And
since Dante says “that there is no science unless
we retain what we have learned” I have set down
what I have gained from their discourse, and composed
a treatise, De Principalibus, in which I enter
as deeply as I can into the science of the subject,
with reasonings on the nature of principality, its
several species, and how they are acquired, how maintained,
how lost. If you ever liked any of my scribblings,
this ought to suit your taste. To a prince, and
especially to a new prince, it ought to prove acceptable.
Therefore I am dedicating it to the Magnificence of
Giuliano.’
