The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him.

This maxim is commonly attributed to Niccolò Machiavelli’s advice literature for princes and statesmen in early 16th‑century Italy, a period of intense factional politics, foreign invasions, and fragile city‑state rule. Machiavelli, a Florentine diplomat and former secretary to the Republic, wrote practical guidance on power after the Medici returned to power and he was dismissed and sidelined. In that setting, the quality of a ruler’s counselors, ministers, and courtiers was not a mere matter of style but a key determinant of state survival: appointments signaled judgment, secured loyalty, and shaped policy execution in a world where intrigue and shifting alliances were constant.

The saying argues that a leader’s intellect is best inferred indirectly—by the caliber and character of the people he chooses to keep close. Competent, candid advisers suggest a ruler confident enough to hear unwelcome truths and skilled enough to recognize talent; flatterers and opportunists suggest insecurity, poor discernment, or a preference for comfort over reality. The line also implies that governance is collective in practice: decisions are filtered through aides, and a ruler’s “mind” is partly embodied in his appointments. As a diagnostic tool, it shifts evaluation from rhetoric to institutional evidence—who is empowered, who is trusted, and what incentives surround the throne.