Machiavelli

by Miles J. Unger

  Setting out on horseback, Bishop Soderini and Machiavelli arrived in Urbino on June 24, where they hurried to pay their respects to the new lord of the city. The palace to which the two Florentine envoys were now escorted remains one of the great monuments of the age. Begun some forty years earlier by Federico da Montefeltro, the successful condottiere and humanist patron, it projected an air of cultivation and refinement at odds with the violent profession of its master.xvii With its classically proportioned courtyard, fine library—one of the most extensive in Europe—and its famous study paneled in inlaid woods conjuring with startling verisimilitude the trappings of a scholar’s life, the palace was a monument to Renaissance ideals if not realities.

  Only a few days earlier the palace had been home to Federico’s cultivated but sickly son, Guidobaldo, and his accomplished wife, Elisabetta Gonzaga. The current occupant was a far more forceful figure, more along the lines of Montefeltro senior though without Federico’s interest in books and other scholarly pursuits. What Valentino did possess, however, was a flair for theatrical display, at least when such display could be employed to intimidate his rivals. This aspect of Valentino’s character was made immediately apparent to Soderini and Machiavelli, who were made to cool their heels in an antechamber, their anxiety and apprehension increasing with each passing minute while the new lord of the city spun his webs.

  It was nearly midnight before the two envoys were admitted into the great man’s presence. In a setting made portentous by the flickering torchlight, Machiavelli came face-to-face with the man who, more than any other, exerted a strange fascination on him and who—seen through the mists of intervening years, and then in idealized and exaggerated form—would serve as a model for the ruthless tyrant of The Prince.xviii

  Unlike an earlier encounter with the equally charismatic Savonarola, this time Machiavelli did not prove immune to a great man’s charms. The dispassionate distance he was able to maintain when harangued by the preacher dissolved before the victorious general surrounded by the spoils of victory. The impact of this initial meeting can be judged by the amount of space in Machiavelli’s writings devoted to the career of Valentino, out of all proportion to his actual achievement. It is no exaggeration to say that Valentino was his muse, the mythical exemplar of the will to power that to Machiavelli was the engine driving all human history.

  While the government Machiavelli served was weak, pointing this way or that as the wind shifted, or more often pointing no place in particular in the belief that it would thereby avoid offending anyone, Valentino was decisiveness itself. Machiavelli’s admiration comes through in the dispatches he sent from Urbino. “This Lord is of such splendid and magnificent bearing,” he reported, “and in war so decisive that there is no thing so daunting that it does not seem to him a small matter; and for the sake of glory and in order to secure his state he never rests, nor does he know weariness or fear. He arrives at one place before one hears he has left the other; he treats his soldiers well; he has acquired the best men in Italy: all of which, in addition to his eternal good fortune, makes him formidable and victorious.”

  The admiration Machiavelli felt for Cesare Borgia was as much a product of emotion as reason. It resembles a schoolgirl crush, giddy and thoughtless. It was the adulation that literary types often feel for men of action. Though hardly uncritical of Valentino, particularly after his precipitous fall, Machiavelli was powerfully attracted to the Duke. Had Machiavelli ever summed up his feelings frankly, he might have declared: Here, finally, is a real man! Whatever his faults, Borgia made the most of his opportunities and through boldness and cunning put to shame a dozen states with more resources than he ever had at his command.

  In the current circumstances, the awe with which the Second Chancellor regarded his host—an awe, incidentally, shared by the senior partner on the mission, Bishop Soderini—made him a less than ideal emissary. Valentino’s response to their overtures was to step up his intimidation. “We heard,” wrote Luca Landucci, “that Valentino had sent to say that he wished to make an alliance with us, or else he would come and attack us.” Machiavelli’s own report, though more nuanced, was essentially the same. “Well I know that your city is not well disposed towards me,” he quoted the Duke, “and would abandon me like an assassin; they seek to get me in hot water with the Pope and the King of France.” This scolding was followed by an explicit threat: “I have no love for this government, which I cannot trust; you must change it . . . . Know that if you refuse me as a friend, you will have me as an enemy.”

  Up to this point Borgia had played his cards shrewdly, but in raising once again the specter of Piero de’ Medici’s return he went a step too far. At this impertinence Soderini and Machiavelli bristled, declaring they were happy with the government as it was currently constituted and that, in any case, it was no one’s business how they managed their own affairs. They also added that if he really wished to demonstrate his friendship the Duke would order his lieutenant to abandon Arezzo, something Borgia seemed unwilling to do.

  The envoys were emboldened by the fact that for all his bluster, and despite the commanding military position he now occupied, Valentino was not free to act as he chose. Even as negotiations in Urbino dragged out inconclusively, another delegation was heading to the court of Louis to complain about the Duke’s high-handed behavior. Valentino remained dependent on the King who had taken the Republic of Florence under his wing. Soderini and Machiavelli played for time, knowing that once Louis got wind of what Valentino was up to, he would put a stop to his vassal’s bullying.

  Machiavelli was unhappy at having to play this cowardly game, but before heading back to Florence he did manage a minor victory, extracting from Valentino a promise that he would do nothing until he had time to consult with his government. This was one of the few instances where the Florentine habit of avoiding hard decisions paid off. After a series of noncommittal responses to Valentino’s demands, Florence learned in late July that Louis, alarmed by the situation in Arezzo, was sending six thousand cavalry (at a cost to the republic of 40,000 ducats) to restore order. They arrived in Tuscany in August, and on the 28th, with French soldiers on his doorstep, Vitelozzo agreed to return the rebellious city to Florentine control. With Vitelli’s withdrawal the immediate crisis was over, though, as Landucci records in his diary, their French rescuers proved almost as destructive as their supposed enemies, looting the very people they were supposed to protect.

  • • •

  In September, Machiavelli was dispatched to the French camp before Arezzo as representative of the Ten of War. Busy as he was with details of provisioning and maintaining troops, his mind began to wander; he sought in the day-to-day frustrations of his job the outlines of a larger pattern. The fruit of this labor was his first concerted work of political philosophy. The brief essay, titled “On the Method of Dealing with the Rebellious Peoples of the Valdichiana,” demonstrates in miniature many of the salient characteristics of his more substantial books.xix One of the most striking features of this brief work is his tendency to interpret events he actually participated in through the lens of the past. The essay opens with a reference to a famous incident from Roman history: “Lucius Furius Camillus entered the Senate after having conquered the rebellious peoples of Latium, and said—‘I have done all that war can do; now it is your turn . . . to assure your future safety as regards the rebels.’ ” From this historical parallel he swiftly extracts a universal lesson: “[T]he Romans knew that half measures were to be avoided, and that peoples must either be conquered by kindness or reduced to impotence.” Just as the Romans eschewed the middle course, so should his own government adopt a policy and pursue it to its logical extreme:

  One can therefore approve your general course of conduct towards the inhabitants of the Val di Chiana; but not your particular conduct towards the Aretini, who have always been rebellious, and whom you have neither known how to win by kindness nor utterly subdue, after the manner of the Romans. In fact, you have
not benefited the Aretini, but on the contrary have harassed them by summoning them to Florence, stripping them of honors, selling their possessions; neither are you in safety from them, for you have left their walls standing, and allowed five-sixths of the inhabitants to remain in the city, without sending others to keep them in subjection. And thus Arezzo will ever be ready to break into fresh rebellion, which is a thing of no slight importance, with Cesare Borgia at hand, seeking to form a strong state by getting Tuscany itself into his power. And the Borgia neither use half measures nor half way in their undertakings.

  Thus Machiavelli subscribed to what one might call the “wasps’ nest” theory of politics: if you must disturb the hive, make sure you eliminate the residents’ capacity to do you harm. By harassing the rebellious Aretines with petty punishments that irritated them but didn’t lessen their ability to retaliate, the Florentines were increasing the odds of getting stung.

  This remains one of Machiavelli’s favorite lessons. He returns to it time and again, most devastatingly in The Prince: “[M]en must either be coddled or destroyed, because while they avenge minor offenses they can do nothing against major ones. Thus if one must do harm to another, it must be such that it will not give rise to a vendetta.” Those advocating mild measures, as he noted in the context of the bloody strife in Pistoia, often inflict the worst damage, since, like a surgeon too squeamish to amputate a gangrened limb, they allow a local infection to spread to vital organs. If there is one thing Machiavelli abhorred, it was the middle way—the route, unfortunately, most often taken by his own government.

  * * *

  i Plausible candidates for the murder also include the various Orsini and their allies. It is unlikely the mystery will ever be resolved.

  ii Ever resourceful, it was said that the still attractive Countess captured the eye of Cesare and that the two became lovers.

  iii The first Medici Pope, Leo X, also tried to set up his relatives as feudal lords in the Romagna, with equally dismal results.

  iv Francesco della Casa’s superior rank was indicated by the larger stipend he was initially granted by the government. When it was clear that Machiavelli was doing most of the work, his friends and relatives succeeded in granting him parity (Machiavelli et al., Machiavelli and His Friends, letters 13 and 14). But even with this increase of salary, Machiavelli was required to spend more than he received.

  v His mother, always a shadowy figure in his life, seems to have died a few years earlier.

  vi Machiavelli took a lively interest in the welfare of his nephew, Giovanni Vernacci, and remained close. A number of letters survive between the two, attesting to their abiding affection. In one from 1515, Machiavelli declared, “I shall always regard you as my son” (Machiavelli et al., Machiavelli and His Friends, letter 248, p. 314).

  vii In fact while Totto managed to get the government to agree to an increased stipend, they apparently sent no additional money while Machiavelli was in France.

  viii Unfortunately, for this period we have many more personal letters written to Machiavelli than from him. Much of what we have from Machiavelli’s own pen consists of official reports and analytical essays.

  ix In fact the morality of the age was less apt to make a distinction between the sex of the two partners involved than in the orifices employed. Anal sex with a woman was no less reprehensible than with another man. Thus accusations against Machiavelli that he engaged in sodomy do not tell us whether the crimes alleged were of a hetero- or homosexual nature. In fact Florentines did not recognize homosexuality as a fundamental aspect of human nature. Only sexual intercourse between married partners was approved. All other varieties, including prostitution and sex with teenage boys, was included in that wider category of illicit sexuality. In theory, sodomy was punishable by death, but the severest penalties were rarely enforced. The government cracked down from time to time on this “abominable” vice, but without much success (see Rocke, Forbidden Friendships: Homosexuality and Male Culture in the Renaissance for an illuminating discussion of the issue).

  x The terms of the treaty were left deliberately vague. Though the Aragonese dynasty in Naples was easily toppled, tensions over the division of spoils continued to simmer, shortly leading to all-out war between France and Spain.

  xi It is telling that the most famous romance in Florentine history—Dante’s love for Beatrice Portinari—was an unconsummated passion between two people married to others. Love and marriage in Renaissance Florence belonged to separate realms. Lorenzo de’ Medici famously gave a tournament for his lady love, Lucrezia Donati, even as he was engaged to Clarice Orsini.

  xii Marietta here uses the voi form of the word. This is more formal than the familiar tu, revealing, at least at this stage in their relationship, a certain stiffness.

  xiii This is Bernardo, their oldest son. The daughter referred to later is Primarena, their oldest child, born in 1502.

  xiv The one bright spot as far as Florence was concerned was the difficult relations between Piero de’ Medici and the papal family. Piero was married to Alfonsina Orsini and had close ties to that baronial family. Despite the fact that Paolo Orsini served for the moment as a captain under Valentino, the Borgia detested that powerful family and were often in open conflict with them. Restoring Piero to rule in Florence would greatly increase Orsini influence in Italy, something the Borgia hoped to avoid.

  xv Machiavelli quoted the Duke as saying: “[I]t is true that Vitelozzo is my man, but I swear to you that I knew nothing of Arezzo” (Legazioni, Commissarie, Scritti di Governo, no. 103, p. 121).

  xvi The element of surprise was achieved in large part because the Duke, Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, had no reason to expect an attack. He was an ally of Pope Alexander and was often employed as a condottiere in the papal employ.

  xvii Federico da Montefeltro was one of the great characters of the Renaissance. Learned patron of Giovanni Santi, a mediocre painter best known as the father of Raphael, and Piero della Francesca, he was also deeply involved in the Pazzi Conspiracy to murder Lorenzo and Giuliano de’ Medici. Shortly after Machiavelli’s visit, the castle was the site for those rarefied conversations between lords and ladies that made Baldassare Castiglione’s Courtier the model of the refined gentleman for generations to come.

  xviii As late as 1515, long after Valentino’s destruction and after Machiavelli had written The Prince, the Duke continued to serve as a model. In a letter written to his friend Francesco Vettori, Machiavelli referred to “Duke Valentino, whose deeds I should imitate on all occasions were I a new prince” (Machiavelli et al., Machiavelli and His Friends, 313).

  xix The Valdichiana is the region south of Florence in which Arezzo is located. Scholars continue to debate when the essay was written and for what purpose. Originally it was thought to date from 1503, that is, almost contemporaneously with the events described, and that it was meant to be delivered as an official report in the Palazzo della Signoria. This, however, seems unlikely. Its style is aphoristic and literary, a far cry from the kind of report one might expect a secretary to deliver to his superiors. In it Machiavelli offers lessons to the government with an assurance inappropriate to one of his junior status. It is probable that it was meant to be incorporated into a larger work—perhaps his Florentine Histories—and the words placed in the mouth of a senior official.

  V

  EXIT THE DRAGON

  “[We will be] devoured one by one by the dragon.”

  —GIANPAOLO BAGLIONI ON CESARE BORGIA

  ON THE EVENING OF OCTOBER 9, 1502, BEHIND THE high stone walls of La Magione Castle overlooking Lake Trasimeno—where more than a millennium and a half earlier Hannibal annihilated the legions of Rome—many of the most powerful military leaders in Italy gathered in secret. Among them were Vitellozzo Vitelli, lord of Citta di Castello; Francesco Orsini, Duke of Gravina; Gianpaolo Baglioni, tyrant of Perugia. Most were captains serving Valentino and his father, Pope Alexander, but, significantly, Cesare Borgia himself was not included.
In fact the guests went to great lengths to keep word of the meeting from reaching his ears, since on the agenda was a plan to raise the banner of rebellion against their Borgia overlord. Valentino’s apparently insatiable appetite for new conquests—ominously demonstrated by his unprovoked attack against Duke Guidobaldo da Montefeltro in Urbino—had caused his chief lieutenants to fear for their own safety. As Gianpaolo Baglioni put it, they must rise up against Duke Valentino before they were all “devoured one by one by the dragon.”

  Up until then these generals had been happy to make war alongside Borgia, earning their pay as mercenaries and sharing in the plunder that followed his victories, but now they began to suspect that they had helped create a monster who would not stop until he had gobbled them all up. For the first time since Valentino had exchanged the life of a cardinal for that of a warrior, a coalition was forming powerful enough to challenge his preeminence in central Italy.

  Enjoying a front-row seat to this high drama was Machiavelli, who had once again been ordered by the Ten to serve as the Florentine emissary to Valentino’s court. He arrived in Imola on the afternoon of October 7, where the Duke had set up headquarters behind the towering battlements of fortress La Rocca. So anxious was he to see the Duke that he presented himself cavalchereccio, in the dust-caked clothes he wore on his ride, though, as Valentino quickly determined, he had little to offer but the usual Florentine equivocations.i Machiavelli’s mission promised to be particularly unsatisfying since the government’s policy was merely to stall for time while it awaited the outcome of the epic struggle just getting underway. Florence’s reluctance to commit itself was understandable. Only a few months earlier Machiavelli had been forced to listen while Valentino heaped abuse on the government he served. But the rebels, though now actively courting Florentine aid, were hardly any more attractive as allies. Among their leaders were men like Vitelozzo Vitelli, an avowed enemy of the Florentine state, and Paolo Orsini, kinsman of Piero de’ Medici—hardly the kind of neighbors the republic was seeking.ii