The Portable Machiavelli

by Niccolo Machiavelli

  The legend of a poisoner girl, raised on snake venom, whose embraces killed her lovers, can be traced as far back as the twelfth century to a book of Arabic origin. The mandrake’s powers as a narcotic and an aphrodisiac were proverbial. According to tradition, the plant’s root possessed a human shape and meant death for the person who uprooted it. In order to procure the plant it was necessary to tie a hungry dog to its root and to urge the dog forward with a bit of food, thus uprooting the plant, killing the dog, yet leaving its master unharmed and in possession of the miraculous herb. In his comedy, Machiavelli transfers the structure of this legend to the play itself, replacing the dog with the poor, unfortunate man who is destined, so Messer Nicia believes, to die after a night of bliss with his wife, Lucrezia. Moreover, Machiavelli has combined the legend of the poisoner girl with that of the mandrake. By inventing the “remedy” wherein the first man must spend the night with the woman to spare the life of Messer Nicia, he has also managed to create a natural situation permitting him to observe the unities of time, place, and action without the slightest hint of any pedantic adherence to the so-called rules of dramatic structure that mar many of the other neoclassical dramatic works produced during this same period.

  THE PLAYERS

  CALLIMACO, a young Florentine in love

  SIRO, his manservant

  LIGURIO, a clever parasite and rascally go-between

  MESSER NICIA, a foolish lawyer

  LUCREZIA, his beautiful wife

  SOSTRATA, her mother

  BROTHER TIMOTEO, a priest whose services are for sale

  A LADY

  PROLOGUE

  God save you, gracious audience,

  since all your graciousness, it seems,

  depends upon your being entertained.

  If you will just keep quiet for a while

  we would like you to hear about

  a strange event that happened in this land.

  See this setting,

  right here on stage?

  Today it is the Florence you live in,

  tomorrow, Rome or Pisa, if you like.

  You’re going to split your sides with laughter.

  On my right there stands the house

  of a doctor of the law

  who learned a lot by reading his Boethius.

  That street there in the dim-lit comer

  is the street of Love—

  whoever falls there cannot rise again.

  You will also get to know,

  if you stay with us for a while,

  a certain friar,

  a kind of abbot or a prior

  of the church across the street.

  A young man named Callimaco Guadagni

  who just got back from Paris

  lives there, in that house on the left.

  He is known among his friends

  as a worthy, noble fellow

  both in looks and deeds.

  He loved too much

  a certain clever girl,

  and how she was deceived by him

  our comedy will explain—

  how nice for you if you could be

  tricked in the way she was!

  Our story has the title Mandrake Root.

  Why call it this?

  The play will tell you why as it unfolds.

  Its author isn’t very famous,

  but if you find you’re not amused,

  he’ll stand you to a glass of wine.

  To entertain you here today, we have

  one poor, unhappy lover,

  a scholar, not too bright,

  a friar who lived a wicked life,

  and evil’s favorite parasite.

  And if all this seems unimportant,

  too trivial to come

  from a man who is wise and serious,

  excuse the author; he is only trying

  with these little trifles

  to brighten up his miserable life.

  There is no other thing

  that he can turn to—

  for it has been impossible

  to show his worth in other arts,

  since no one will reward him for his labors.

  He expects that his reward will be for all

  to jeer and snicker and speak badly

  of all they see and hear.

  It is to this condition, with no doubt,

  throwing our ancient code of valor out,

  we have degenerated totally.

  No wonder, then, that men

  who see their efforts scorned

  do not exert themselves to do,

  no matter what the hardships,

  the work the snow conceals and wind destroys.

  And if by speaking badly of this author

  you think you’ve got him by the hair,

  frightened and dismissed him,

  I warn you that he, too, knows how

  to be just as malicious—

  in fact, he is an expert at the art!

  And, although he owes

  respect to no man

  in all of Italy,

  gladly would he serve

  a man who is his better.

  But let’s ignore those who speak evil,

  and get back to our comedy

  before it is too late——

  Anyway, one should not put too much faith

  in what a bunch

  of foolish people say.

  But, now, here comes Callimaco

  and with him is his faithful servant, Siro.

  They’ll fill you in on everything.

  Pay close attention now and don’t wait

  for me to give you further explanations.

  ACT I

  SCENE 1

  CALLIMACO, SIRO

  CALLIMACO: Siro, don’t leave. I want you a moment.

  SIRO: Here I am.

  CALLIMACO: I believe you were amazed by my sudden departure from Paris, and you are probably wondering right now why I have been here almost a month without doing anything.

  SIRO : That is very true.

  CALLIMACO: If I haven’t told you before what I am about to tell you now, it is not because I don’t trust you, but rather because I feel that the best way to keep a secret is to say nothing unless you absolutely have to. Now, since I believe I shall be needing your help, I want to tell you everything.

  SIRO: I am your servant, and servants should never question their masters or judge their motives; they should, when taken into the confidence of their master, serve faithfully. That’s what I have always done and am still ready to do.

  CALLIMACO: I realize that. I think you have heard me say a thousand times (so one more time won’t matter) that I lost my family at the age of ten and that my guardians sent me to Paris, where I lived for twenty years. And when King Charles started those disastrous wars that destroyed Italy, I decided not to come home but to live in Paris, judging life there to be more secure than here in Italy.

  SIRO: That is true.

  CALLIMACO: And having sold all my belongings except this house, I lived in France for ten very happy years ... SIRO: Yes, I know that.

  CALLIMACO: ... spending my time partly studying, partly enjoying myself, and partly dealing in business. And I did not let any one occupation interfere with the others. And for this reason, as you know, I lived peacefully, offending no one and pleasing all. I managed to get along with everybody—merchants, nobles, foreigners, townspeople, rich and poor alike.

  SIRO: That’s the truth.

  CALLIMACO: But Fortune felt I was too lucky; she saw to it that one Camillo Calfucci ran into me in Paris.

  SIRO: I am beginning to see your problem.

  CALLIMACO: I often entertained him, as I did other Florentines, and in speaking to him one day it happened that we began to argue about whether the most beautiful women lived in France or in Italy. Since I could not argue about Italian women, having left the country as a small boy, another Florentine at this gathering defended the French, while Camillo took the Italian side. A
fter much discussion on both sides, Camillo got angry and claimed that he had a relative whose beauty alone could win the argument, even if every other Italian girl were an ugly monster.

  SIRO: Now I know what you want to say.

  CALLIMACO: He said her name was Madonna Lucrezia, the wife of Messer Nicia Calfucci, about whom he spoke so highly, praising her beauty and her manners so much that all of us were dumbfounded; and his praise filled me with such a great desire to see her that, forgetting all my other plans and no longer caring whether Italy was at war or peace, I set out to see her: and after my arrival, I found that the fame of Lucrezia’s beauty was nothing compared to her real beauty (something that rarely occurs), and I want her so badly that I am nearly out of my mind. SIRO: If you had mentioned it to me in Paris, I would have known how to advise you, but now I don’t know what to say.

  CALLIMACO: I’m telling you, not because I want your advice, but because I need to get this off my chest; and I also want you to be ready to help me if necessary.

  SIRO: I am more than ready, but do you have any hope of success?

  CALLIMACO: Ah, little or none. I’ll explain: in the first place, she is not the type to go along with the plans I have for her, she is extremely virtuous and not given to thoughts of love. She has a rich husband who lets her dominate him, and though he is no longer young he is certainly not over the hill yet. Nor does she have neighbors or relatives who can escort her to soirees, parties, or to the other usual social occasions for young people. No workmen are allowed in the house, and all her servants fear her. Her character has not the slightest speck of corruption in it.

  SIRO: Well, then, what are you going to do?

  CALLIMACO: Nothing is ever so impossible that there isn’t a way to do it. Even though such hope may be fragile and vain, a man’s desire and determination to accomplish a difficult task will blind him to the chances of failure. SIRO: Well, then, what is it that gives you hope?

  CALLIMACO: Two things. The first is the stupidity of Messer Nicia, who is the dumbest, most foolish man in Florence (in spite of his law degree); the second is the desire of both Nicia and Lucrezia to have children, for they have been married six years without any. They are rich and do not want to die without heirs. A third reason comes to mind as well—Lucrezia’s mother was not exactly a saint in her younger days. She’s rich now and I’m not sure how to handle her.

  SIRO: Have you made a move yet?

  CALLIMACO: Yes, I have, but nothing serious.

  SIRO: What do you mean?

  CALLIMACO: You know Ligurio, who often comes to eat with us. He used to be a marriage broker; now he simply begs his meals. Because he is good company, Messer Nicia has taken a liking to him, and Ligurio uses him. Though he never gets invited to supper, he does get a bit of money from time to time. I’ve become his friend and have told him of my passion, and he has agreed to help me in any way possible.

  SIRO: Be careful that he doesn’t trick you, too; these spongers are not to be trusted.

  CALLIMACO: I know that. But when you need somebody, you have to trust him. If we succeed, I have promised him some money; if not, he will at least earn a meal, since I do not like eating alone!

  SIRO: What has he agreed to do so far?

  CALLIMACO: He has promised to persuade Messer Nicia to go with Lucrezia to the mineral baths this May.

  SIRO: How does that fit in with your plans?

  CALLIMACO: What do you mean? Why, such a locale could change her prudish nature, since all one does at a place like that is to have a good time. I would go there myself and arrange all sorts of amusing things to do in order to show myself off in the best way; perhaps I could even become friendly with both of them. Who knows? Only time will tell, but one thing does lead to another. SIRO: It just might work.

  CALLIMACO: Ligurio left this morning to speak to Messer Nicia about it, and he will let me know how things turn out.

  SIRO: Here come both of them.

  CALLIMACO: I’ll keep out of sight so I can speak to Ligurio when Messer Nicia has left him. In the meantime, go about your duties. If I need you for something, I’ll let you know.

  SIRO: I’m off. (Exit Siro; enter Messer Nicia and Ligurio.)

  SCENE 2

  MESSER NICIA, LIGURIO

  NICIA: I think your advice is sound, and I spoke to my wife about it last night. She promised to give me an answer today; but, to tell you the truth, I, for one, am not very excited about going.

  LIGURIO: Why?

  NICIA: Because I am basically a homebody. And then, to have to move my wife, servants, and baggage with me does not suit me. Besides this, last night I spoke to several doctors. One says to go to San Filippo, another to Porretta, a third to La Villa—I think they are a bunch of frauds. To tell you the truth, these doctors don’t know their business.

  LIGURIO: You are probably disturbed more for the first reason you mentioned: you are used to having the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore in view.

  NICIA: You are mistaken! When I was younger, I was quite the roamer. There wasn’t a fair in Prato that I didn’t visit, and there is not a castle around here that I have not been to. What’s more, I have even been as far as Pisa and Livorno. What do you say to that!

  LIGURIO: You must have seen the Carrucola of Pisa.

  NICIA: You mean the Verrucola.80

  LIGURIO : Ah, yes, the Verrucola. Did you see the sea at Livorno?

  NICIA: I certainly did see it.

  LIGURIO: How much bigger is it than the Arno?

  NICIA: Than the Arno? It’s four—no, more than six—no, more than seven times bigger. You don’t see anything but water and water and more water.

  LIGURIO: Well, I certainly am amazed that you see so much difficulty in going to a spa, since you have pissed in so many other different places.

  NICIA: Don’t be childish. Do you think moving an entire household is nothing? Nevertheless, I want children so much, I am ready to do anything. You talk to these doctors about it and find out where they would advise me to go. Meanwhile, I’ll go home to my wife and then you and I will meet there.

  LIGURIO: As you wish. (Exit Nicia.)

  SCENE 3

  LIGURIO, CALLIMACO

  LIGURIO: I don’t think there is anyone in the whole world as stupid as he is; yet Fortune has been so good to him. He’s rich, he’s got a beautiful wife who is wise, has good manners, and is fit to govern a kingdom. Only rarely does a marriage bear out the proverb about marriage which says that God makes men but they find their own mates. Usually it is the excellent man who ends up with some beast or, on the contrary, the fine lady who marries a fool. But from Nicia’s stupidity some good may come: Callimaco has hope. (Enter Callimaco.) But here he comes now! What are you doing here, Callimaco?

  CALLIMACO: I saw you with Messer Nicia, and I was waiting until you got rid of him to hear what you decided. LIGURIO: He is exactly the kind of man you think he is: of little prudence or courage. He would only leave Florence reluctantly. However, I have encouraged him, and finally he told me that he was ready to do anything. I think we could get him to leave if we wanted to, but I’m no longer sure that it suits our needs.

  CALLIMACO: Why?

  LIGURIO: It’s like this. You know that all kinds of people go to those baths, and it is possible that someone might show up who would be attracted to Lucrezia as you are, and he might be richer and more handsome than you. Thus, our efforts might benefit others; competition might make her even more reluctant, or, should she be willing, she might well turn to someone else.

  CALLIMACO: I realize that what you are saying is true, but what am I to do? What choice do I have? Where am I to turn? I have to try something, grandiose or dangerous, ruinous or infamous. It’s better to die than to live like this. If only I could sleep at night, if I could eat, if I could just converse, if I could get pleasure from something—then I wouldn’t mind waiting. But there seems to be no way out, and without any hope I shall die. And if I am to die, then nothing will stop me, no matter how violent or
vicious I have to be.

  LIGURIO: Don’t talk like that; control yourself.

  CALLIMACO: I conjure up schemes like this to keep calm, can’t you see? Either we go on with our plan to send them to the baths or else we have to come up with another plan just to keep me from so much torment.

  LIGURIO: You are right, and I’m the one to do it!

  CALLIMACO: I believe it, though I know that people like you live by deception; however, I don’t think you’ll trick me because, if you do, and I catch you, I’ll do everything to get even with you, and you would then lose my hospitality and the hope of what I promised you in the future. LIGURIO: You can trust me, for even if my reward—which I am eager to get—is not forthcoming, I am a part of this scheme and I want you to consummate your desire almost as much as you do. But let’s leave it at that. Messer Nicia gave me the task of finding a doctor and of discovering which of the baths would be the best one to choose. Now do as I tell you: say that you have studied medicine and have practiced in Paris. He’ll have no trouble believing it—he’s a simpleton; and you are learned and can recite a few words to him in Latin.

  CALLIMACO: How will this help?

  LIGURIO: It would help us send him to whichever bath we choose and enable me to try another plan I have in mind, one which would be quicker, more certain, and more likely to succeed than the trip to the baths.

  CALLIMACO: What are you saying?

  LIGURIO: If you keep your courage up and put your trust in me, I’ll see to it that you have your wish before this time tomorrow. And even if he were able to tell whether or not you were a real doctor (which is not the case), my plan won’t give him time to think or, if he does figure it out, he won’t be in time to spoil my work.

  CALLIMACO: You are reviving me. This is too great a promise, and I now have too great a hope. How will you do it?

  LIGURIO: You’ll learn it all in due time. I have told you enough for now; we have little enough time for action, much less for talk. You go home and wait for me there, and I’ll go find Messer Nicia. And when I bring him to you, take your cue from me and fit your words to mine. CALLIMACO: I’ll do just as you say, but I am afraid that the hope you have given me will go up in smoke.