ruin of Florence is accounted for in different ways by the historians of
the siege. Pitti, whose insight into the situation is perhaps the
keenest, and who is by far the most outspoken, does not refer the
failure of the Florentines to the cowardice or stupidity of the popular
party, but to the malignity of the Palleschi, the double-dealing and
egotism of the wealthy nobles, who to suit their own interests favored
now one and now another of the parties. These Ottimati--as he calls
them, by a title borrowed from classical phraseology--whether they
professed the Medicean or the popular cause, were always bent on
self-aggrandizement at the expense of the people or their princes.[1]
The sympathies of Pitti were on the side of the plebeians, whose policy
during the siege was carried out by the Gonfalonier Carducci. At the
same time he admitted the feebleness and insufficiency of many of these
men, called from a low rank of life and from mechanical trades to the
administration of the commonwealth. The state of Florence under Piero
Soderini--that 'non mai abbastanza lodato cavaliere,' as he calls
him--was the ideal to which he reverted with longing eyes. Segni, on the
other hand, condemns the ambition of the plebeian leaders, and declares
his opinion that the State could only have been saved by the more
moderate among the influential citizens. He belonged in fact to that
section of the Medicean party which Varchi styles the Neutrals. He had
strong aristocratic leanings, and preferred a government of nobles to
the popular democracy which flourished under Francesco Carducci. While
he desired the liberty of Florence, Segni saw that the republic could
not hold its own against both Pope and Emperor, at a crisis when the
King of France, who ought to have rendered assistance in the hour of
need, was bound by the treaty of Cambray, and by the pledges he had
given to Charles in the persons of his two sons. The policy of which
Segni approved was that which Niccolo Capponi had prepared before his
fall--a reconciliation with Clement through the intervention of the
Emperor, according to the terms of which the Medici should have been
restored as citizens of paramount authority, but not as sovereigns.
Varchi, while no less alive to the insecurity of Carducci's policy, was
animated with a more democratic spirit. He had none of Segni's Whig
leanings, but shared the patriotic enthusiasm which at that supreme
moment made the whole state splendidly audacious in the face of
insurmountable difficulties. Both Segni and Varchi discerned the
exaggerated and therefore baneful influence of Savonarola's prophecies
over the populace of Florence. In spite of continued failure, the people
kept trusting to the monk's prediction that, after her chastisement,
Florence would bloom forth with double luster, and that angels in the
last resort would man her walls and repel the invaders. There is
something pathetic in this delusion of a great city, trusting with
infantine pertinacity to the promises of the man whom they had seen
burned as an impostor, when all the while their statesmen and their
generals were striking bargains with the foe. Nardi is more sincerely
Piagnone than either Segni or Varchi. Yet, writing after the events of
the siege, his faith is shaken; and while he records his conviction that
Savonarola was an excellent Nomothetes, he questions his prophetic
mission, and deplores the effect produced by his vain promises. Nerli,
as might have been expected from a noble married to Caterina Salviati,
the niece of Leo and the aunt of Cosimo, who had himself been courtier
to Clement and privy councilor to Alessandro, sustains the Medicean note
throughout his commentaries.
[1] He goes so far as to assert that Leo X. and Clement VII. wished
to give a liberal constitution to Florence, but that their plans
were frustrated by the avarice and jealousy of the would-be
oligarchs. See _Arch. Stor_. vol. i. pp. 121,131. The passages
quoted from his 'Apologia de' Cappucci,' relative to Machiavelli,
Filippo Strozzi, and Francesco Guicciardini (_Arch. Stor_. vol. i.
pp. xxxix. xxxviii.), are very instructive; with such greedy
self-seeking oligarchs, it was impossible for the Medicean Popes to
establish any government but a tyranny in Florence.
Thus from these five authors, writing from different points of view, we
gain a complete insight into the complicated politics of Florence, at a
period when her vitality was still vigorous, but when she had lost all
faculty for centralized or concerted action. In sagacity, in the power
of analysis with which they pierce below the surface, trace effects to
causes, discern character, and regard the facts of history as the proper
subject-matter of philosophical reflection, they have much in common. He
who has seen Rembrandt's painting of the dissecting-room might construct
for himself another picture, in which the five grave faces of these
patient observers should be bent above the dead and diseased body of
their native city. Life is extinct. Nothing is left for science but,
scalpel in hand, to lay bare the secret causes of dissolution. Each
anatomist has his own opinion to deliver upon the nature of the malady.
Each records the facts revealed by the autopsy according to his own
impressions.
The literary qualities of these historians are very different, and seem
to be derived from essential differences in their characters. Pitti is
by far the most brilliant in style, concentrated in expression to the
point of epigram, and weighty in judgment. Nardi, though deficient in
some of the most attractive characteristics of the historian, is
invaluable for sincerity of intention and painstaking accuracy. The
philosophical, rhetorical, and dramatic passages which add so much
splendor to the works of Guicciardini are absent from the pages of
Nardi. He is anxious to present a clear picture of what happened; but he
cannot make it animated, and he never reflects at length upon the
matter of his history. At the same time he lacks the _naïiveté_ which
makes Corio, Allegretti, Infessura, and Matarazzo so amusing. He gossips
as little as Machiavelli, and has no profundity to make up for the want
of piquancy. The interest of his chronicle is greatest in the part which
concerns Savonarola, though even here the peculiarly reticent and
dubitative nature of the man is obvious. While he sympathizes with
Savonarola's political and moral reforms, he raises a doubt about his
inner sincerity, and does not approve of the attitude of the
Piagnoni.[1] In his estimation of men Nardi was remarkably cautious,
preferring always to give an external relation of events, instead of
analyzing motives or criticising character.[2] He is in especial silent
about bad men and criminal actions. Therefore, when he passes an adverse
judgment (as, for instance, upon Cesare Borgia), or notes a dark act (as
the _stuprum_ committed upon Astorre Manfredi), his corroboration of
historians more addicted to scandal is important. Segni is far more
lively than Nardi, while he is not less painstaking to be accurate. He
shows a partisan feeling, especially in his admiration for Niccolo
Capponi and his prejudice against Francesco Carducci, which gives the
relish of personality that Nardi's cautiously dry chronicle lacks.
Rarely have the entangled events of a specially dramatic period been set
forth more lucidly, more succinctly, and with greater elegance of style.
Segni is deficient, when compared with Varchi, only perhaps in volume,
minuteness, and that wonderful mixture of candor, enthusiasm, and zeal
for truth which makes Varchi incomparable. His sketches of men,
critiques, and digressions upon statistical details are far less copious
than Varchi's. But in idiomatic purity of language he is superior.
Varchi had been spoiled by academic habits of composition. His language
is diffuse and lumbering. He lacks the vivacity of epigram, selection,
and pointed phrase. But his Storia Fiorentina remains the most valuable
repertory of information we possess about the later vicissitudes of the
republic, and the charm of detail compensates for the lack of style.
Nerli is altogether a less interesting writer than those that have been
mentioned; yet some of the particulars which he relates, about
Savonarola's reform of manners, for example, and the literary gatherings
in the Rucellai gardens, are such as we find nowhere else.
[1] Book ii. cap. 16.
[2] See lib. ii. cap. 34: 'Nel nostro scrivere non intendiamo
far giudizio delle cose incerte, e massimamente della
intenzione e animo segreto degli uomini, che non apparisce
chiara se non per congettura e riscontro delle cose esteriori.
E però stando termo il primo proposito, vogliamo raccontare
quanto più possibile ci sia, la verità delle cose fatte, più
tosto che delle pensate o immaginate.' This is dignified and
noble language in an age which admired the brilliant falsehoods
of Giovio.
Many of my readers will doubtless feel that too much time has been spent
in the discussion of these annalists of the siege of Florence. Yet for
the student of history they have a value almost unique. They suggest the
possibilities of a true science of comparative history, and reveal a
vivacity of the historic consciousness which can be paralleled by no
other nation. How different might be our conception of the vicissitudes
of Athens between 404 and 338 B.C. if we possessed a similar Pleiad of
contemporary Greek authors!
Having traced the development of historical research and political
philosophy in Florence from the year 1300 to the fall of the Republic,
it remains to speak of the two greatest masters of practical and
theoretical statecraft--Francesco Guicciardini and Niccolo Machiavelli.
These two writers combine all the distinctive qualities of the
Florentine historiographers in the most eminent perfection. At the same
time they are, not merely as authors but also as men, mirrors of the
times in which they both played prominent parts. In their biographies
and in their works we trace the spirit of an age devoid of moral
sensibility, penetrative in analysis, but deficient in faith, hope,
enthusiasm, and stability of character. The dry light of the intellect
determined their judgment of men, as well as their theories of
government. On the other hand, the sordid conditions of existence to
which they were subjected as the servants of corrupt states, or the
instruments of wily princes--as diplomatists intent upon the plans of
kings like Ferdinand or adventurers like Cesare Borgia, privy councilors
of such Popes as Clement VII. and such tyrants as Duke Alessandro de'
Medici--distorted their philosophy and blunted their instincts. For the
student of the sixteenth century they remain riddles, the solution of
which is difficult, because by no strain of the imagination is it easy
to place ourselves in their position. One half of their written
utterances seem to be at variance with the other half. Their actions
often contradict their most brilliant and emphatic precepts; while
contemporaries disagree about their private character and public
conduct. All this confusion, through which it is now perhaps impossible
to discern what either Guicciardini or Machiavelli really was, and what
they really felt and thought, is due to the anomaly of consummate
ability and unrivaled knowledge of the world existing without religious
or political faith, in an age of the utmost depravity of public and
private morals. No criticism could be more stringent upon the
contemporary disorganization of society in Italy than is the silent
witness of these men, sublimely great in all mental qualities, but
helplessly adrift upon a sea of contradictions and of doubts, ignorant
of the real nature of mankind in spite of all their science, because
they leave both goodness and beauty out of their calculations.
Francesco Guicciardini was born in 1482. In 1505, at the age of
twenty-three, he had already so distinguished himself as a student of
law that he was appointed by the Signoria of Florence to read the
Institutes in public. However, as he preferred active to professorial
work, he began at this time to practice at the bar, where he soon ranked
as an able advocate and eloquent speaker. This reputation, together
with his character for gravity and insight, determined the Signoria to
send him on an embassy to the Court of Ferdinand of Aragon in 1512. Thus
Guicciardini entered on the real work of his life as a diplomatist and
statesman. We may also conclude with safety that it was at the court of
that crowned hypocrite and traitor to all loyalty of soul that he
learned his first lessons in political cynicism. The court of Spain
under Ferdinand the Catholic was a perfect school of perfidy, where even
an Italian might discern deeper reaches of human depravity and formulate
for his own guidance a philosophy of despair. It was whispered by his
enemies that here, upon the threshold of his public life, Guicciardini
sold his honor by accepting a bribe from Ferdinand.[1] Certain it is
that avarice was one of his besetting sins, and that from this time
forward he preferred expediency to justice, and believed in the policy
of supporting force by clever dissimulation.[2] Returning to Florence,
Guicciardini was, in 1515, deputed to meet Leo X. on the part of the
Republic at Cortona. Leo, who had the faculty of discerning able men and
making use of them, took him into favor, and three years later appointed
him Governor of Reggio and Modena. In 1521 Parma was added to his rule.
Clement VII. made him Viceroy of Romagna in 1523, and in 1526 elevated
him to the rank of Lieutenant-General of the Papal army. In consequence
of this high commission, Guicciardini shared in the humiliation
attaching to all the officers of the League who, with the Duke of Urbino
at their head suffered Rome to be sacked and the Pope to be imprisoned
in 1527. The blame of this contemptible display of cowardice or private
spite cannot, however, be ascribed to him: for he attended the armies of
the League not as general, but as counselor and chief reporter. It was
his business not to control the movements of the army so much as to act
as referee in the Pope's interest, and to keep the Vatican informed of
what was stirring in the camp. In 1531 Guicciardini was advanced to the
governorship of Bologna, the most important of all the Papal
lord-lieutenancies. This post he resigned in 1534 on the election of
Paul III., preferring to follow the fortunes of the Medicean princes at
Florence. In this sketch of his career I must not omit to mention that
Guicciardini was declared a rebel in 1527 by the popular government on
account of his well-known Medicean prejudices, and that in 1530 he had
been appointed by Clement VII. to punish the rebellious citizens. On the
latter occasion he revenged himself for the insults offered him in 1527
by the cruelty with which he pushed proscription to the utmost limits,
relegating his enemies to unhealthy places of exile, burdening them with
intolerable fines, and using all the indirect means which his ingenuity
could devise for forcing them into outlawry and contumacy.[3] Therefore
when he returned to inhabit Florence, he did so as the creature of the
Medici, sworn to maintain the bastard Alessandro in his power. He was
elected a member of the Senate of eighty; and so thoroughly did he
espouse the cause of his new master, that he had the face to undertake
the Duke's defense before Charles V. at Naples in 1535. On this occasion
Alessandro, who had rendered himself unbearable by his despotic habits,
and in particular by the insults which he offered to women of all ranks
and conditions in Florence, was arraigned by the exiles before the bar
of Cæsar. Guicciardini won the cause of his client, and restored
Alessandro with an Imperial confirmation of his despotism to Florence.
This period of his political career deserves particular attention, since
it displays a glaring contradiction between some of his unpublished
compositions and his actions, and confirms the accusations of his
enemies.[4] That he should have preferred a government of Ottimati, or
wealthy nobles, to a more popular constitution, and that he should have
adhered with fidelity to the Medicean faction in Florence, is no ground
for censure.[5] But when we find him in private unmasking the artifices
of the despots by the most relentless use of frigid criticism, and
advocating a mixed government upon the type of the Venetian
Constitution, we are constrained to admit with Varchi and Pitti that his
support of Alessandro was prompted less by loyalty than by a desire to
gratify his own ambition and avarice under the protective shadow of the
Medicean tyranny.[6] He belonged in fact to those selfish citizens whom
Pitti denounces, diplomatists and men of the world, whose thirst for
power induced them to play into the hands of the Medici, wishing to suck
the state[7] themselves, and to hold the prince in the leading-strings
of vice and pleasure for their own advantage.[8] After the murder of
Alessandro, it was principally through Guicciardini's influence that
Cosimo was placed at the head of the Florentine Republic with the title
of Duke. Cosimo was but a boy, and much addicted to field sports.
Guicciardini therefore reckoned that, with an assured income of 12,000
ducats, the youth would be contented to amuse himself, while he left the
government of Florence in the hands of his Vizier.[9] But here the wily
politician overreached himself. Cosimo wore an old head on his young
shoulders. With decent modesty and a becoming show of deference, he used
Guicciardini as his ladder to mount the throne by, and then kicked the
ladder away. The first days of his administration showed that he
intended to be sole master in Florence. Guicciardini, perceiving that
his game was spoiled, retired to his villa in 1537 and spent the last
years of his life in composing his histories. The famous Istoria d'
Italia was the work of one year of this enforced retirement. The
question irresistibly rises to our mind, whether some of the severe
criticisms passed upon the Medici in his unpublished compositions were
the fruit of these same bitter leisure hours.[10] Guicciardini died in
1540 at the age of fifty-eight, without male heirs.
[1] See the 'Apologia de' Cappucci,' _Arch. Stor._ vol. iv.
part 2, p. 318.
[2] For the avarice of Guicciardini, see Varchi, vol. i. p.
318. His _Ricordi Politici_ amply justify the second, though
not the first, clause of this sentence.
[3] See Varchi, book xii. (and especially cap. xxv.), for these
arts; he says, 'Nel che messer Francesco Guicciardini si
scoperse più crudele e più appassionato degli altri.'
[4] Knowing what sort of tyrant Alessandro was, and remembering
'hat Guicciardini had written (_Ricordi_, No. ccxlii.): 'La
calcina con che si murano gli stati de' tiranni è il sangue de'
cittadini: però doverebbe sforzarsi ognuno che nella città sua
non s'avessino a murare tali palazzi,' it is very difficult to
approve of his advocacy of the Duke.
[5] Though even here the selfish ambition of the man was
apparent to contemporaries: 'egli arebbe voluto uno stato col
nome d' Ottimati, ma in fatti de' Pochi, nel quale larghissima
parte, per le sue molte e rarissime qualità, meritissimamente
gli si venia.'--Varchi, vol. i. p. 318.
[6] Guicciardini's _Storia Fiorentina_ and _Reggimento di
Firenze_ (_Op. Ined._ vols. i, and iii.) may be consulted for
his private critique of the Medici. What was the judgment
passed upon him by contemporaries may be gathered from Varchi,
vols. i. pp. 238, 318; ii. 410; iii. 204. Segni, pp. 219, 332.
Nardi, vol. ii. p. 287. Pitti, quoted in _Arch. Stor._ vol. i.
p. xxxviii., and the 'Apologia de' Cappucci' (_Arch. Stor._
vol. iv. pt. 2). It is, however, only fair to Guicciardini to
record here his opinion, expressed in _Ricordi_, Nos. ccxx. and
cccxxx., that it was the duty of good citizens to seek to guide
the tyrant: 'Credo sia uficio di buoni cittadini, quando la
patria viene in mano di tiranni, cercare d'avere luogo con loro
per potere persuadere il bene, e detestare il male; e certo è
interesse della città che in qualunque tempo gli uomini da bene
abbino autorità; e ancora che gli ignoranti e passionati di
Firenze l' abbino sempre intesa altrimenti, si accorgerebbono
quanta pestifero sarebbe il governo de' Medici, se non avessi
intorno altri che pazzi e cattivi.'
[7] See Varchi, vol. iii. p. 204. 'Che Cosimo ... _succiarsi lo
stato_.'
[8] Pitti dips his pen in gall when he describes these
citizens: 'Cotesti vogliosi Ottimati; i quali non hanno saputo
mai ritrovare luogo che piaccia loro, sottomendosi ora al
Medici per l'ingorda avarizia; ora gittandosi al popolo, per
non potere a modo loro tiraneggiare; ora rivendendolo a'
Medici, vedutisi scoperti e raffrenati da lui; e sempre mai con
danno della Repubblica, e di ciascuna parte, inquieti,
insaziabili e fraudolenti.'--'Apologia de' Cappucci,' _Arch.
Stor._ xv. pt. ii. p. 215.
[9] Here is a graphic touch in Varchi's _History_, vol. iii. p.
202. Guicciardini is discussing the appointment of Cosimo de'
Medici: 'Gli dovessero esser pagati per suo piatto ogn' anno
12,000 fiorini d' oro, e non più, avendo il Guicciardino,
_abbassando il viso e alzando gli occhi_, detto: "Un 12,000
fiorini d' oro è--un bello spendere."'
[10] Pitti seems to have taken this view: see 'Apologia de'
Cappucci' (_Arch. Stor._ vol. iv. part ii. p. 329): 'Tosto che
'l duca Cosimo lo pose a sedere insieme con certi altri suoi
colleghi, si adirò malamente; e se la disputa della provvisione
non l' avesse ritenuto, sarebbe ito a servire papa Pagolo
terzo. Onde, restato confuso e disperato, si tratteneva alla
sua villa di Santa Margarita a Montici; dove transportato dalla
stizza ritoccò in molte parti la sua Istoria, per mostrare di
non essere stato della setta Pallesca; e dove potette, accattó
l' occasione di parere istrumento della Repubblica.'
Guicciardini's own apology for his treatment of the Medici, in
the proemio to the treatise _Del Reggimento di Firenze_,
deserves also to be read.
Turning now from the statesman to the man of letters, we find in
Guicciardini one of the most consummate historians of any nation or of
any age. The work by which he is best known, the Istoria d' Italia, is
one that can scarcely be surpassed for masterly control of a very
intricate period, for subordination of the parts to the whole, for
calmness of judgment and for philosophic depth of thought. Considering
that Guicciardini in this great work was writing the annals of his own
times, and that he had to disentangle the raveled skein of Italian
politics in the sixteenth century, these qualities are most remarkable.
The whole movement of the history recalls the pomp and dignity of Livy,
while a series of portraits sketched from life with the unerring hand of
an anatomist and artist add something of the vivid force of Tacitus. Yet
Guicciardini in this work deserves less commendation as a writer than as
a thinker. There is a manifest straining to secure style, by
manipulation and rehandling, which contrasts unfavorably with the
unaffected ease, the pregnant spontaneity, of his unpublished writings.
His periods are almost interminable, and his rhetoric is prolix and
monotonous. We can trace the effort to emulate the authors of antiquity
without the ease which is acquired by practice or the taste that comes
with nature.
The transcendent merit of the history is this--that it presents us with
a scientific picture of politics and of society during the first half of
the sixteenth century. The picture is set forth with a clairvoyance and
a candor that are almost terrible. The author never feels enthusiasm for
a moment: no character, however great for good or evil, rouses him from
the attitude of tranquil disillusioned criticism. He utters but few
exclamations of horror or of applause. Faith, religion, conscience,
self-subordination to the public good, have no place in his list of
human motives; interest, ambition, calculation, envy, are the forces
which, according to his experience, move the world. That the
strong should trample on the weak, that the wily should circumvent the
innocent, that hypocrisy and fraud and dissimulation should triumph,
seems to him but natural. His whole theory of humanity is tinged with
the sad gray colors of a stolid, cold-eyed, ill-contented, egotistical
indifference. He is not angry, desperate, indignant, but phlegmatically
prudent, face to face with the ruin of his country. For him the world
was a game of intrigue, in which his friends, his enemies, and himself
played parts, equally sordid, with grave faces and hearts bent only on
the gratification of mean desires. Accordingly, though his mastery of
detail, his comprehension of personal motives, and his analysis of craft
are alike incomparable, we find him incapable of forming general views
with the breadth of philosophic insight or the sagacity of a frank and
independent nature. The movements of the eagle and the lion must be
unintelligible to the spider or the fox. It was impossible for
Guicciardini to feel the real greatness of the century, or to foresee
the new forces to which it was giving birth. He could not divine the
momentous issues of the Lutheran schism; and though he perceived the
immediate effect upon Italian politics of the invasion of the French, he
failed to comprehend the revolution marked out for the future in the
shock of the modern nations. While criticising the papacy, he discerned
the pernicious results of nepotism and secular ambition: but he had no
instinct for the necessity of a spiritual and religious regeneration.
His judgment of the political situation led him to believe that the
several units of the Italian system might be turned to profit and
account by the application of superficial remedies,--by the development
of despotism, for example, or of oligarchy, when in reality the decay of
the nation was already past all cure.
Two other masterpieces from Guicciardini's pen, the _Dialogo del
Reggimento di Firenze_ and the _Storia Fiorentina_, have been given to
the world during the last twenty years. To have published them
immediately after their author's death would have been inexpedient,
since they are far too candid and outspoken to have been acceptable to
the Medicean dynasty. Yet in these writings we find Guicciardini at his
best. Here he has not yet assumed the mantle of the rhetorician, which
in the _Istoria d' Italia_ sits upon him somewhat cumbrously. His style
is more spontaneous; his utterances are less guarded. Writing for
himself alone, he dares to say more plainly what he thinks and feels. At
the same time the political sagacity of the statesman is revealed in all
its vigor. I have so frequently used both of these treatises that I need
not enter into a minute analysis of their contents. It will be enough to
indicate some of the passages which display the literary style and the
scientific acumen of Guicciardini at their best. The _Reggimento di
Firenze_ is an essay upon the form of government for which Florence was
best suited. Starting with a discussion of Savonarola's constitution, in
which ample justice is done to the sagacity and promptitude by means of
which he saved the commonwealth at a critical juncture (pp. 27-30), the
interlocutors pass to an examination of the Medicean tyranny (pp.
34-49). This is one of the masterpieces of Guicciardini's analysis. He
shows how the administration of justice, the distribution of public
honors, and the foreign policy of the republic were perverted by this
family. He condemns Cosimo's tyrannical application of fines and imposts
(p. 68), Piero the younger's insolence (p. 46), and Lorenzo's
appropriation of the public moneys to his private use (p. 43). Yet while
setting forth the vices of this tyranny in language which even Sismondi
would have been contented to translate and sign, Guicciardini shows no
passion. The Medici were only acting as befitted princes eager for
power, although they crushed the spirit of the people, discouraged
political ardor, extinguished military zeal, and did all that in them
lay to enervate the nation they governed. The scientific statist
acknowledges no reciprocal rights and duties between the governor and
the governed. It is a trial of strength. If the tyrant gets the upper
hand, the people must expect to be oppressed. If, on the other side, the
people triumph, they must take good care to exterminate the despotic
brood: 'The one true remedy would be to destroy and extinguish them so
utterly that not a vestige should remain, and to employ for this purpose
the poignard or poison, as may be most convenient; otherwise the least
surviving spark is certain to cause trouble and annoyance for the
future'(p. 215). The same precise criticism lays bare the weakness of
democracy. Men, says Guicciardini, always really desire their own power
more than the freedom of the state (p. 50), and the motives even of
tyrannicides are very rarely pure (pp. 53-54). The governments
established by the liberals are full of defects. The Consiglio Grande,
for example, of the Florentines is ignorant in its choice of
magistrates, unjust in its apportionment of taxes, scarcely less
prejudiced against individuals than a tyrant would be, and incapable of
diplomatic foreign policy (pp. 58-69). Then follows a discussion of the
relative merits of the three chief forms of government--the Governo
dell' Uno, the Governo degli Ottimati, and the Governo del Popolo (p.
129). Guicciardini has already criticised the first and the third.[1] He
now expresses a strong opinion that the second is the worst which could
be applied to the actual conditions of the Florentine Republic (p. 130).
His panegyric of the Venetian constitution (pp. 139-41) illustrates his
plan for combining the advantages of the three species and obviating
their respective evils. In fact he declares for that Utopia of the
sixteenth century--the Governo Misto--a political invention which
fascinated the imagination of Italian statesmen much in the same way as
the theory of perpetual motion attracted scientific minds in the last
century.[2] What follows is an elaborate scheme for applying the
principles of the Governo Misto to the existing state of things in
Florence. This lucid and learned disquisition is wound up (p. 188) with
a mournful expression of the doubt which hung like a thick cloud over
all the political speculations of both Guicciardini and Machiavelli: 'I
hold it very doubtful, and I think it much depends on chance whether
this disorganized constitution will ever take new shape or not ... and
as I said yesterday, I should have more hope if the city were but young;
seeing that not only does a state at the commencement take form with
greater facility than one that has grown old under evil governments, but
things always turn out more prosperously and more easily while fortune
is yet fresh and has not run its course,' etc.[3] In reading the
Dialogue on the Constitution of Florence it must finally be remembered
that Guicciardini has thrown it back into the year 1494, and that he
speaks through the mouths of four interlocutors. Therefore we may
presume that he intended his readers to regard it as a work of
speculative science rather than of practical political philosophy. Yet
it is not difficult to gather the drift of his own meaning.
[1] Cf. _Ricordi_, cxl.: 'Chi disse uno popolo, disse veramente
uno animale pazzo, pieno ni mille errori, di mille confusioni,
sanza gusto, sanza diletto, sanza stabilità.' It should be
noted that Guicciardini here and elsewhere uses the term Popolo
in its fuller democratic sense. The successive enlargements of
the burgher class in Florence, together with the study of Greek
and Latin political philosophy, had introduced the modern
connotation of the term.
[2] A lucid criticism of the three forms of government is
contained in Guicciardini's Comment on the second chapter of
the first book of Machiavelli's _Discorsi_ (_Op. Ined._ vol. i.
p. 6): 'E non è dubio che il governo misto delle tre spezie,
principi, ottimati e popolo, è migliore e più stabile che uno
governo semplice di qualunque delle tre spezie, e massime
quando è misto in modo che di qualunque spezie è tolto il buono
e lasciato indietro il cattivo.' Machiavelli had himself, in
the passage criticised, examined the three simple governments
and declared in favor of the mixed as that which gave stability
to Sparta, Rome, and Venice. The same line of thought may be
traced in the political speculations of both Plato and
Aristotle. The Athenians and Florentines felt the superior
stability of the Spartan and Venetian forms of government, just
as a French theorist might idealize the English constitution.
The essential element of the Governo Misto, which Florence had
lost beyond the possibility of regaining it, was a body of
hereditary and patriotic patricians. This gave its strength to
Venice; and this is that which hitherto has distinguished the
English nation.
[3] Compare _Ricordi Politici e Civili_, No. clxxxix., for a
lament of this kind over the decrepitude of kingdoms, almost
sublime in its stoicism.
The _Istoria Fiorentina_ is a succinct narrative of the events of
Italian History, especially as they concerned Florence, between the
years 1378 and 1509. In other words it relates the vicissitudes of the
Republic under the Medici, and the administration of the Gonfalonier
Soderini. This masterpiece of historical narration sets forth with
brevity and frankness the whole series of events which are rhetorically
and cautiously unfolded in the Istoria d' Italia. Most noticeable are
the characters of Lorenzo de' Medici (cap. ix.), of Savonarola (cap.
xvii.), and of Alexander VI. (cap. xxvii.). The immediate consequences
of the French invasion have never been more ably treated than in Chapter
xi., while the whole progress of Cesare Borgia in his career of villany
is analyzed with exquisite distinctness in Chapter xxvi. The wisdom of
Guicciardini nowhere appears more ripe, or his intellect more elastic,
than in the _Istoria Fiorentina_. Students who desire to gain a still
closer insight into the working of Guicciardini's mind should consult
the 403 _Ricordi Politici e Civili_ collected in the first volume of his
_Opere Inedite_. These have all the charm which belongs to occasional
utterances, and are fit, like proverbs, to be worn for jewels on the
finger of time.
The biography of Niccolo Machiavelli consists for the most part of a
record of his public services to the State of Florence. He was born on
May 3, 1469, of parents who belonged to the prosperous middle class of
Florentine citizens. His ancestry was noble; for the old tradition which
connected his descent with the feudal house of Montespertoli has been
confirmed by documentary evidence.[1] His forefathers held offices of
high distinction in the Commonwealth; and though their wealth and
station had decreased, Machiavelli inherited a small landed estate. His
family, who were originally settled in the Val di Pesa, owned farms at
San Casciano and in other villages of the Florentine dominion, a list of
which may be seen in the return presented by his father Bernardo to the
revenue office in 1498.[2] Their wealth was no doubt trivial in
comparison with that which citizens amassed by trade in Florence; for it
was not the usage of those times to draw more than the necessaries of
life from the Villa: all superfluities were provided by the Bottega in
the town.[3] Yet there can be no question, after a comparison of
Bernardo Machiavelli's return of his landed property with Niccolo
Machiavelli's will,[4] that the illustrious war secretary at all periods
of his life owned just sufficient property to maintain his family in a
decent, if not a dignified, style. About his education we know next to
nothing. Giovio[5] asserts that he possessed but little Latin, and that
he owed the show of learning in his works to quotations furnished by
Marcellus Virgilius. This accusation, which, whether it be true or not,
was intended to be injurious, has lost its force in an age that, like
ours, values erudition less than native genius. It is certain that
Machiavelli knew quite enough of Latin and Greek literature to serve his
turn; and his familiarity with some of the classical historians and
philosophers is intimate. There is even too much parade in his works of
illustrations borrowed from Polybius, Livy, and Plutarch: the only
question is whether Machiavelli relied upon translations rather than
originals. On this point, it is also worthy of remark that his culture
was rather Roman than Hellenic. Had he at any period of his life made as
profound a study of Plato's political dialogues as he made of Livy's
histories, we cannot but feel that his theories both of government and
statecraft might have been more concordant with a sane and normal
humanity.
[1] See Villani's _Machiavelli_, vol. i. p. 303. Ed. Le
Monnier.
[2] See vol. i. of the edition of Machiavelli, by Mess. Fanfani
and Passerini, Florence, 1873; p. lv. Villani's Machiavelli,
ib. p. 306. The income is estimated at about 180_l._
[3] See Pandolfini, _Trattato del Governo della Famiglia_.
[4] Fanfani and Passerini's edition, vol. i. p. xcii.
[5] Elogia, cap. 87.
In 1494, the date of the expulsion of the Medici, Machiavelli was
admitted to the Chancery of the Commune as a clerk; and in 1498 he was
appointed to the post of chancellor and secretary to the _Dieci di
libertà e pace_. This place he held for the better half of fifteen
years, that is to say, during the whole period of Florentine freedom.
His diplomatic missions undertaken at the instance of the Republic were
very numerous. Omitting those of less importance, we find him at the
camp of Cesare Borgia in 1502, in France in 1504, with Julius II. in
1506, with the Emperor Maximilian in 1507, and again at the French Court
in 1510.[1] To this department of his public life belong the dispatches
and Relazioni which he sent home to the Signory of Florence, his
Monograph upon the Massacre of Sinigaglia, his treatises upon the method
of dealing with Pisa, Pistoja, and Valdichiana, and those two remarkable
studies of foreign nations which are entitled _Ritratti delle Cose dell'
Alemagna_ and _Ritratti delle Cose di Francia_. It was also in the year
1500 that he laid the first foundations of his improved military system.
The political sagacity and the patriotism for which Machiavelli has been
admired are nowhere more conspicuous than in the discernment which
suggested this measure, and in the indefatigable zeal with which he
strove to carry it into effect. Pondering upon the causes of Italian
weakness when confronted with nations like the French, and comparing
contemporary with ancient history, Machiavelli came to the conclusion
that the universal employment of mercenary troops was the chief secret
of the insecurity of Italy. He therefore conceived a plan for
establishing a national militia, and for placing the whole male
population at the service of the state in times of war. He had to begin
cautiously in bringing this scheme before the public; for the stronghold
of the mercenary system was the sloth and luxury of the burghers. At
first he induced the _Dieci di libertà e pace_, or war office, to
require the service of one man per house throughout the Florentine
dominion; but at the same time he caused a census to be taken of all men
capable of bearing arms. His next step was to carry a law by which the
permanent militia of the state was fixed at 10,000. Then in 1503, having
prepared the way by these preliminary measures, he addressed the Council
of the Burghers in a set oration, unfolding the principles of his
proposed reform, and appealing not only to their patriotism but also to
their sense of self-preservation. It was his aim to prove that mercenary
arms must be exchanged for a national militia, if freedom and
independence were to be maintained. The Florentines allowed themselves
to be convinced, and, on the recommendation of Machiavelli, they voted
in 1506 a new magistracy, called the _Nove dell' Ordinanza e Milizia_,
for the formation of companies, the discipline of soldiers, and the
maintenance of the militia in a state of readiness for active
service.[2] Machiavelli became the secretary of this board; and much of
his time was spent thenceforth in the levying of troops and the
practical development of his system. It requires an intimate familiarity
with the Italian military system of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries to understand the importance of this reform. We are so
accustomed to the systems of Militia, Conscription, and Landwehr, by
means of which military service has been nationalized among the modern
races, that we need to tax our imagination before we can place ourselves
at the point of view of men to whom Machiavelli's measure was a novelty
of genius.[3]
[1] Machiavelli never bore the title of Ambassador on these
missions. He went as Secretary. His pay was miserable. We find
him receiving one ducat a day for maintenance.
[2] Documents relating to the institution of the _Nove dell'
Ordinanza e Milizia_, and to its operations between December 6,
1506, and August 6, 1512, from the pen of Machiavelli, will be
found printed by Signor Canestrini in _Arch. Stor._ vol. xv.
pp. 377 to 453. Machiavelli's treatise _De re militari_, or _I
libri sull' arte della guerra_, was the work of his later life;
it was published in 1521 at Florence.
[3] Though Machiavelli deserves the credit of this military
system, the part of Antonio Giacomini in carrying it into
effect must not be forgotten. Pitti, in his 'Life of Giacomini'
(_Arch. Stor._ vol. iv. pt. ii. p. 241), says: 'Avendo per
dieci anni continovi fatto prova nelle fazioni e nelle
battaglie de' fanti del dominio e delli esterni, aveva troppo
bene conosciuto con quanta più sicurezza si potesse la
repubblica servire de' suoi propri che delli istranieri.'
Machiavelli had gone as Commissary to the camp of Giacomini
before Pisa in August 1505; there the man of action and the man
of theory came to an agreement: both found in the Gonfalonier
Soderini a chief of the republic capable of entering into their
views.
It must be admitted that the new militia proved ineffectual in the hour
of need. To revive the martial spirit of a nation, enervated by tyranny
and given over to commerce, merely by a stroke of genius, was beyond the
force of even Machiavelli. When Prato had been sacked in 1512, the
Florentines, destitute of troops, divided among themselves and headed
by the excellent but hesitating Piero Soderini, threw their gates open
to the Medici. Giuliano, the brother of Pope Leo, and Lorenzo, his
nephew, whose statues sit throned in the immortality of Michael Angelo's
marble upon their tombs in San Lorenzo, disposed of the republic at
their pleasure. Machiavelli, as War Secretary of the anti-Medicean
government, was of course disgraced and deprived of his appointments. In
1513 he was suspected of complicity in the conjuration of Pietropaolo
Boscoli and Agostino Capponi, was imprisoned in the Bargello, and
tortured to the extent of four turns of the rack. It seems that he was
innocent. Leo X. released him by the act of amnesty passed upon the
event of his assuming the tiara; and Machiavelli immediately retired to
his farm near San Casciano.
Since we are now approaching the most critical passage of Machiavelli's
biography, it may be well to draw from his private letters a picture of
the life to which this statesman of the restless brain was condemned in
the solitude of the country.[1] Writing on December 10 to his friend
Francesco Vettori, he says, 'I am at my farm; and, since my last
misfortunes, have not been in Florence twenty days. 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 among themselves or
with their neighbors. When I leave the wood, I proceed to a well, 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 neighborhood, listen to a variety of matters, and make note of the
different tastes and humors 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
habit, 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 appall 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 Principatibus_, 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.'
[1] This letter may be compared with others of about the same
date. In one (Aug. 3, 1514) he says: 'Ho lasciato dunque i
pensieri delle cose grandi e gravi, non mi diletta più leggere
le cose antiche, nè ragionare delle moderne; tutte si son
converse in ragionamenti dolci,' etc. Again he writes (Dec. 4,
1514): 'Quod autem ad me pertinet, si quid agam scire cupis,
omnem meae vitae rationem ab eodem Tafano intelliges, quam
sordidam ingloriamque, non sine indignatione, si me ut soles
amas, cognosces.' Later on, we may notice the same language.
Thus (Feb. 5, 1515), 'Sono diventato inutile a me, a' parenti
ed agli amici,' and (June 8, 1517) 'Essendomi io ridotto a
stare in villa per le avversità che io ho avuto ed ho, sto
qualche volta un mese che non mi ricordo di me.'
Further on in the same letter he writes: 'I have talked with Filippo
Casavecchia about this little work of mine, whether I ought to present
it or not; and if so, whether I ought to send or take it myself to him.
I was induced to doubt about presenting it at all by the fear lest
Giuliano should not even read it, and that this Ardinghelli should
profit by my latest labors. On the other hand, I am prompted to present
it by the necessity which pursues me, seeing that I am consuming myself
in idleness, and I cannot continue long in this way without becoming
contemptible through poverty. I wish these Signori Medici would begin to
make some use of me, if it were only to set me to the work of rolling a
stone.[1] If I did not win them over to me afterwards, I should only
complain of myself. As for my book, if they read it, they would perceive
that the fifteen years I have spent in studying statecraft have not been
wasted in sleep or play; and everybody ought to be glad to make use of a
man who has so filled himself with experience at the expense of others.
About my fidelity they ought not to doubt. Having always kept faith, I
am not going to learn to break it now. A man who has been loyal and good
for forty-three years, like me, is not likely to change his nature; and
of my loyalty and goodness my poverty is sufficient witness to them.'
[1] Compare the letter, dated June 10, 1514, to Fr. Vettori:
'Starommi dunque così tra i miei cenci, senza trovare uomo che
della mia servitù si ricordi, o che creda che io possa esser
buono a nulla. Ma egli è impossibile che io possa star molto
così, perchè io mi logoro,' etc. Again, Dec. 20, 1514: 'E se la
fortuna avesse voluto che i Medici, o in cosa di Firenze o di
fuora, o in cose loro particolari o in pubbliche, mi avessino
una volta comandato, io sarei contento.'
This letter, invaluable to the student of Machiavelli's works, is
prejudicial to his reputation. It was written only ten months after he
had been imprisoned and tortured by the Medici, just thirteen months
after the republic he had served so long had been enslaved by the
princes before whom he was now cringing. It is true that Machiavelli was
not wealthy; his habits of prodigality made his fortune insufficient for
his needs.[1] It is true that he could ill bear the enforced idleness of
country life, after being engaged for fifteen years in the most
important concerns of the Florentine Republic. But neither his poverty,
which, after all, was but comparative, nor his inactivity, for which he
found relief in study, justifies the tone of the conclusion to this
letter. When we read it, we cannot help remembering the language of
another exile, who while he tells us--
Come sa di sale
Lo pane altrui, e com' è duro calle
Lo scendere e 'l salir per l' altrui scale
--can yet refuse the advances of his factious city thus: 'If Florence
cannot be entered honorably, I will never set foot within her walls. And
what? Shall I not be able from any angle whatsoever of the earth to gaze
upon the sun and stars? shall I not beneath whatever region of the
heavens have power to meditate the sweetest truths, unless I make myself
ignoble first, nay ignominious, in the face of Florence and her people?
Nor will bread, I warrant, fail me!' If Machiavelli, who in this very
letter to Vettori quoted Dante, had remembered these words, they ought
to have fallen like drops of molten lead upon his soul. But such was the
debasement of the century that probably he would have only shrugged his
shoulders and sighed, 'Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.'
[1] See familiar letter, June 10, 1514.
In some respects Dante, Machiavelli, and Michael Angelo Buonarroti may
be said to have been the three greatest intellects produced by Florence.
Dante in exile and in opposition, would hold no sort of traffic with her
citizens. Michael Angelo, after the siege, worked at the Medici tombs
for Pope Clement, as a makepeace offering for the fortification of
Samminiato; while Machiavelli entreats to be put _to roll a stone by
these Signori Medici_, if only he may so escape from poverty and
dullness. Michael Angelo, we must remember, owed a debt of gratitude as
an artist to the Medici for his education in the gardens of Lorenzo.
Moreover, the quatrain which he wrote for his statue of the Night
justifies us in regarding that chapel as the cenotaph designed by him
for murdered Liberty. Machiavelli owed nothing to the Medici, who had
disgraced and tortured him, and whom he had opposed in all his public
action during fifteen years. Yet what was the gift with which he came
before them as a suppliant, crawling to the footstool of their throne? A
treatise _De Principatibus_; in other words, the celebrated _Principe_;
which, misread it as Machiavelli's apologists may choose to do, or
explain it as the rational historian is bound to do, yet carries venom
in its pages. Remembering the circumstances under which it was composed,
we are in a condition to estimate the proud humility and prostrate pride
of the dedication. 'Niccolo Machiavelli to the Magnificent Lorenzo, son
of Piero de' Medici:' so runs the title. 'Desiring to present myself to
your Magnificence with some proof of my devotion, I have not found
among my various furniture aught that I prize more than the knowledge of
the actions of great men acquired by me through a long experience of
modern affairs and a continual study of ancient. These I have long and
diligently revolved and examined in my mind, and have now compressed
into a little book which I send to your Magnificence. And though I judge
this work unworthy of your presence, yet I am confident that your
humanity will cause you to value it when you consider that I could not
make you a greater gift than this of enabling you in a few hours to
understand what I have learned through perils and discomforts in a
lengthy course of years.' 'If your Magnificence will deign, from the
summit of your height, some time to turn your eyes to my low place, you
will know how unjustly I am forced to endure the great and continued
malice of fortune.' The work so dedicated was sent in MS. for the
Magnificent's private perusal. It was not published until 1532, by order
of Clement VII., after the death of Machiavelli.
I intend to reserve the _Principe_, considered as the supreme expression
of Italian political science, for a separate study; and after the
introduction to Macaulay's Essay on Machiavelli, I need hardly enter in
detail into a discussion of the various theories respecting the
intention of this treatise.[1] Yet this is the proper place for
explaining my view about Machiavelli's writings in relation to his
biography, and for attempting to connect them into such unity as a mind
so strictly logical as his may have designed.
[1] Macaulay's essay is, of course, brilliant and
comprehensive. I do not agree with his theory of the Italian
despot, as I have explained on p. 127 of this volume.
Sometimes, too, he indulges in rhetoric that is merely
sentimental, as when he says about the dedication of the
Florentine History to Clement: 'The miseries and humiliations
of dependence, the bread which is more bitter than every other
food, the stairs which are more painful than every other
ascent, had not broken the spirit of Machiavelli. _The most
corrupting post in a corrupting profession had not depraved the
generous heart of Clement._' The sentence I have printed in
italics may perhaps tell the truth about the Church and Popes
in general; but the panegyric of Clement is preposterous.
Macaulay must have been laughing in his sleeve.
With regard to the circumstances under which the Prince was composed,
enough has been already said. Machiavelli's selfish purpose in putting
it forth seems to my mind apparent. He wanted employment: he despaired
of the republic: he strove to furnish the princes in power with a
convincing proof of his capacity for great affairs. Yet it must not on
this account be concluded that the _Principe_ was merely a cheap bid for
office. On the contrary, it contained the most mature and the most
splendid of Machiavelli's thoughts, accumulated through his long years
of public service; and, strange as it may seem, it embodied the dream of
a philosophical patriot for the restitution of liberty to Italy.
Florence, indeed, was lost. 'These Signori Medici' were in power. But
could not even they be employed to purge the sacred soil of Italy from
the Barbarians?
If we can pretend to sound the depths of Machiavelli's mind at this
distance of time, we may conjecture that he had come to believe the
free cities too corrupt for independence. The only chance Italy had of
holding her own against the great powers of Europe was by union under a
prince. At the same time the Utopia of this union, with which he closes
the _Principe_, could only be realized by such a combination as would
either neutralize the power of the Church, or else gain the Pope for an
ally by motives of interest. Now at the period of the dedication of the
_Principe_ to Lorenzo de' Medici, Leo X. was striving to found a
principality in the states of the Church.[1] In 1516 he created his
nephew Duke of Urbino, and it was thought that this was but a prelude to
still further greatness. Florence in combination with Rome might do much
for Italy. Leo meanwhile was still young, and his participation in the
most ambitious schemes was to be expected. Thus the moment was
propitious for suggesting to Lorenzo that he should put himself at the
head of an Italian kingdom, which, by its union beneath the strong will
of a single prince, might suffice to cope with nations more potent in
numbers and in arms.[2] The _Principe_ was therefore dedicated in good
faith to the Medici, and the note on which it closes was not false.
Machiavelli hoped that what Cesare Borgia had but just failed in
accomplishing, Lorenzo de' Medici, with the assistance of a younger Pope
than Alexander, a firmer basis to his princedom in Florence, and a grasp
upon the states of the Church made sure by the policy of Julius II.,
might effect. Whether so good a judge of character as Machiavelli
expected really much from Lorenzo may be doubted.
[1] We are, however, bound to remember that Leo was only made
Pope in March 1513, and that the _Principe_ was nearly finished
in the following December. Machiavelli cannot therefore be
credited with knowing as well as we do now to what length the
ambition of the Medici was about to run when he composed his
work. He wrote in the hope that it might induce them to employ
him.
[2] The two long letters to Fr. Vettori (Aug. 26, 1513) and to
Piero Soderini (no date) should be studied side by side with
the _Principe_ for the light they throw on Machiavelli's
opinions there expressed.
These circumstances make the morality of the book the more remarkable.
To teach political science denuded of commonplace hypocrisies was a
worthy object. But while seeking to lay bare the springs of action, and
to separate statecraft from morals, Machiavelli found himself impelled
to recognize a system of inverted ethics. The abrupt division of the two
realms, ethical and political, which he attempted, was monstrous; and he
ended by substituting inhumanity for human nature. Unable to escape the
logic which links morality of some sort with conduct, he gave his
adhesion to the false code of contemporary practice. He believed that
the right way to attain a result so splendid as the liberation of Italy
was to proceed by force, craft, bad faith, and all the petty arts of a
political adventurer. The public ethics of his day had sunk to this low
level. Success by means of plain dealing was impossible. The game of
statecraft could only be carried on by guile and violence. Even the
clear genius of Machiavelli had been obscured by the muddy medium of
intrigue in which he had been working all his life. Even his keen
insight was dazzled by the false splendor of the adventurer Cesare
Borgia.
To have formulated the ethics of the _Principe_ is not diabolical. There
is no inventive superfluity of naughtiness in the treatise. It is simply
a handbook of princecraft, as that art was commonly received in Italy,
where the principles of public morality had been translated into terms
of material aggrandizement, glory, gain, and greatness. No one thought
of judging men by their motives but by their practice; they were not
regarded as moral but as political beings, responsible, that is to say,
to no law but the obligation of success. Crimes which we regard as
horrible were then commended as magnanimous, if it could be shown that
they were prompted by a firm will and had for their object a deliberate
end. Machiavelli and Paolo Giovio, for example, both praise the massacre
at Sinigaglia as a masterstroke of art, without uttering a word in
condemnation of its perfidy. Machiavelli sneers at Gianpaolo Baglioni
because he had not the courage to strangle his guest Julius II. and to
crown his other crimes with this signal act of magnanimity. What virtue
had come to mean in the Italian language we have seen already. The one
quality which every one despised was simplicity, however this might be
combined with lofty genius and noble aims. It was because Soderini was
simple and had a good heart that Machiavelli wrote the famous epigram--
La notte che morì Pier Soderini
L' alma n' andò dell' inferno alla bocca;
E Pluto le gridò: Anima sciocca,
Che inferno? va nel limbo de' bambini.
The night that Peter Soderini died,
His soul flew down unto the mouth of hell:
'What? Hell for you? You silly spirit!' cried
The fiend: 'your place is where the babies dwell.'
As of old in Corcyra, so now in Italy, 'guilelessness, which is the
principal ingredient of genuine nobleness, was laughed down, and
disappeared.'[1] What men feared was not the moral verdict of society,
pronouncing them degraded by vicious or violent acts, but the
intellectual estimate of incapacity and the stigma of dullness. They
were afraid of being reckoned among feebler personalities; and to escape
from this contempt, by the commission even of atrocities, had come to be
accounted manly. The truth, missed almost universally, was that the
supreme wisdom, the paramount virility, is law-abiding honesty, the
doing of right because right is right, in scorn of consequence. Nothing
appears more clearly in the memoirs of Cellini than this point, while
the Italian novels are full of matter bearing on the same topic. It is
therefore ridiculous to assume that an Italian judged of men or conduct
in any sense according to our standards. Pinturicchio and Perugino
thought it no shame to work for princes like the Baglioni and for Popes
like Alexander VI. Lionardo da Vinci placed his talents as an engineer
at the service of Cesare Borgia, and employed his genius as a musician
and a painter for the amusement of the Milanese Court, which must have
been, according to Corio's account, flagrantly and shamelessly corrupt.
Leo Battista Alberti, one of the most charming and the gentlest spirits
of the earlier Renaissance, in like manner lent his architectural
ability to the vanity of the iniquitous Sigismondo Malatesta. No: the
_Principe_ was not inconsistent with the general tone of Italian
morality; and Machiavelli cannot be fairly taxed with the discovery of a
new infernal method. The conception of politics as a bare art of means
to ends had grown up in his mind by the study of Italian history and
social customs. His idealization of Cesare Borgia and his romance of
Castruccio were the first products of the theory he had formed by
observation of the world he lived in. The _Principe_ revealed it fully
organized. But to have presented such an essay in good faith to the
despots of his native city, at that particular moment in his own career,
and under the pressure of trivial distress, is a real blot upon his
memory.
[1] Thuc. iii. 83. The whole of the passage about Corcyra in
the third book of Thucydides (chs. 82 and 83) applies literally
to the moral condition of Italy at this period.
We learn from Varchi that Machiavelli was execrated in Florence for his
_Principe_, the poor thinking it would teach the Medici to take away
their honor, the rich regarding it as an attack upon their wealth, and
both discerning in it a death-blow to freedom.[1] Machiavelli can
scarcely have calculated upon this evil opinion, which followed him to
the grave: for though he showed some hesitation in his letter to Vettori
about the propriety of presenting the essay to the Medici, this was only
grounded on the fear lest a rival should get the credit of his labors.
Again, he uttered no syllable about its being intended for a trap to
catch the Medici, and commit them to unpardonable crimes. We may
therefore conclude that this explanation of the purpose of the
_Principe_ (which, strange to say, has approved itself to even recent
critics) was promulgated either by himself or by his friends, as an
after-thought, when he saw that the work had missed its mark, and at the
time when he was trying to suppress the MS.[2] Bernardo Giunti in the
dedication of the edition of 1532, and Reginald Pole in 1535, were, I
believe, the first to put forth this fanciful theory in print.
Machiavelli could not before 1520 have boasted of the patriotic
treachery with which he was afterwards accredited, so far, at any rate,
as to lose the confidence of the Medicean family; for in that year the
Cardinal Giulio de' Medici commissioned him to write the history of
Florence.
[1] _Storia Fior._ lib. iv. cap. 15.
[2] See Varchi, loc. cit. The letter written by Machiavelli to
Fr. Guicciardini from Carpi, May 17, 1521, should be studied in
this connection. It is unfortunately too mutilated to be wholly
intelligible. After explaining his desire to be of use to
Florence, but not after the manner most approved of by the
Florentines themselves, he says: 'io credo che questo sarebbe
il vero modo di andare in Paradiso, imparare la via dell'
Inferno per fuggirla.'
The _Principe_, after its dedication to Lorenzo, remained in MS., and
Machiavelli was not employed in spite of the continual solicitations of
his friend Vettori.[1] Nothing remained for him but to seek other
patrons, and to employ his leisure in new literary work. Between 1516
and 1519, therefore, we find him taking part in the literary and
philosophical discussions of the Florentine Academy, which assembled at
that period in the Rucellai Gardens.[2] It was here that he read his
Discourses on the First Decade of Livy--a series of profound essays upon
the administration of the state, to which the sentences of the Roman
historian serve as texts. Having set forth in the _Principe_ the method
of gaining or maintaining sovereign power, he shows in the _Discorsi_
what institutions are necessary to preserve the body politic in a
condition of vigorous activity. We may therefore regard the _Discorsi_
as in some sense a continuation of the _Principe_. But the wisdom of the
scientific politician is no longer placed at the disposal of a
sovereign. He addresses himself to all the members of a state who are
concerned in its prosperity. Machiavelli's enemies have therefore been
able to insinuate that, after teaching tyranny in one pamphlet, he
expounded the principles of opposition to a tyrant in the other,
shifting his sails as the wind veered.[3] The truth here also lies in
the critical and scientific quality of Machiavelli's method. He was
content to lecture either to princes or to burghers upon politics, as an
art which he had taken great pains to study, while his interest in the
demonstration of principles rendered him in a measure indifferent to
their application.[4] In fact, to use the pithy words of Macaulay, 'the
Prince traces the progress of an ambitious man, the Discourses the
progress of an ambitious people. The same principles on which, in the
former work, the elevation of an individual is explained, are applied in
the latter to the longer duration and more complex interest of a
society.'
[1] The political letters addressed to Francesco Vettori, at
Rome, and intended probably for the eye of Leo X., were written
in 1514. The discourse addressed to Leo, _sulla riforma dello
stato di Firenze_, may be referred perhaps to 1519.
[2] Of these meetings Filippo de' Nerli writes in the Seventh
Book of his Commentaries, p. 138: 'Avendo convenuto assai tempo
nell' orto de' Rucellai una certa scuola di giovani letterati e
d' elevato ingegno, infra quali praticava continuamente Niccolò
Machiavelli (ed io ero di Niccolò e di tutti loro amicissimo, e
molto spesso con loro convirsavo), s' esercitavano costoro
assai, mediante le lettere, nelle lezioni dell' istorie, e
sopra di esse, ed a loro istanza compose il Machiavello quel
suo libro de' discorsi sopra Tito Livio, e anco il libro di
que' trattati e ragionamenti sopra la milizia.'
[3] See Pitti, 'Apologia de' Cappucci,' _Arch. Stor._ vol. iv.
pt. ii. p. 294.
[4] The dedication of the _Discorsi_ contains a phrase which
recalls Machiavelli's words about the _Principe_: 'Perche in
quello io ho espresso quanto io so, e quanto io ho imparato per
una lunga pratica e continua lezione delle cose del mondo.'
The Seven Books on the Art of War may be referred with certainty to the
same period of Machiavelli's life. They were probably composed in 1520.
If we may venture to connect the works of the historian's leisure,
according to the plan above suggested, this treatise forms a supplement
to the _Principe_ and the _Discorsi_. Both in his analysis of the
successful tyrant and in his description of the powerful commonwealth he
had insisted on the prime necessity of warfare, conducted by the people
and their rulers in person. The military organization of a great kingdom
is here developed in a separate Essay, and Machiavelli's favorite scheme
for nationalizing the militia of Italy is systematically expounded.
Giovio's flippant objection, that the philosopher could not in practice
maneuver a single company, is no real criticism on the merit of his
theory.
By this time the Medici had determined to take Machiavelli into favor;
and since he had expressed a wish to be set at least to rolling stones,
they found for him a trivial piece of work. The Franciscans at Carpi had
to be requested to organize a separate Province of their Order in the
Florentine dominion; and the conduct of this weighty matter was
intrusted to the former secretary at the Courts of Maximilian and Louis.
Several other missions during the last years of his life devolved upon
Machiavelli; but none of them were of much importance: nor, when the
popular government was instituted in 1527, had he so far regained the
confidence of the Florentines as to resume his old office of war
secretary. This post, considering his recent alliance with the Medicean
party, he could hardly have expected to receive; and therefore it is
improbable that the news of Gianotti's election at all contributed to
cause his death.[1] Disappointment he may indeed have felt: for his
moral force had been squandered during fifteen years in the attempt to
gain the favor of princes who were now once more regarded as the enemies
of their country. When the republic was at last restored, he found
himself in neither camp. The overtures which he had made to the Medici
had been but coldly received; yet they were sufficiently notorious to
bring upon him the suspicion of the patriots. He had not sincerely acted
up to the precept of Polonius: 'This above all,--to thine own self be
true.' His intellectual ability, untempered by sufficient political
consistency or moral elevation, had placed him among the outcasts:--
che non furon ribelli,
Nè fur fedeli a Dio, ma per sè foro.
The great achievement of these years was the composition of the _Istorie
Fiorentine_. The commission for this work he received from Giulio de'
Medici through the Officiali dello Studio in 1520, with an annual
allowance of 100 florins. In 1527, the year of his death, he dedicated
the finished History to Pope Clement VII. This masterpiece of literary
art, though it may be open to the charges of inaccuracy and
superficiality,[2] marks an epoch in the development of modern
historiography. It must be remembered that it preceded the great work of
Guicciardini by some years, and that before the date of its appearance
the annalists of Italy had been content with records of events, personal
impressions, and critiques of particular periods. Machiavelli was the
first to contemplate the life of a nation in its continuity, to trace
the operation of political forces through successive generations, to
contrast the action of individuals with the evolution of causes over
which they had but little control, and to bring the salient features of
the national biography into relief by the suppression of comparatively
unimportant details. By thus applying the philosophical method to
history, Machiavelli enriched the science of humanity with a new
department. There is something in his view of national existence beyond
the reach of even the profoundest of the classical historians. His style
is adequate to the matter of his work. Never were clear and definite
thoughts expressed with greater precision in language of more masculine
vigor. We are irresistibly compelled, while characterizing this style,
to think of the spare sinews of a trained gladiator. Though Machiavelli
was a poet, he indulges in no ornaments of rhetoric.[3] His images, rare
and carefully chosen, seem necessary to the thoughts they illustrate.
Though a philosopher, he never wanders into speculation. Facts and
experience are so thoroughly compacted with reflection in his mind, that
his widest generalizations have the substance of realities. The element
of unreality, if such there be, is due to a misconception of human
nature. Machiavelli seems to have only studied men in masses, or as
political instruments, never as feeling and thinking personalities.
[1] See Varchi, loc. cit.
[2] See the criticisms of Ammirato and Romagnosi, quoted by
Cantù, _Letteratura Italiana_, p. 187.
[3] I shall have to speak elsewhere of Machiavelli's comedies,
occasional poems, novel of 'Belphegor,' etc.
Machiavelli, according to the letter addressed by his son Pietro to
Francesco Nelli, died of a dose of medicine taken at the wrong time. He
was attended on his deathbed by a friar, who received his confession.
His private morality was but indifferent. His contempt for weakness and
simplicity was undisguised. His knowledge of the world and men had
turned to cynicism. The frigid philosophy expressed in his political
Essays, and the sarcastic speeches in which he gave a vent to his soured
humors, made him unpopular. It was supposed that he had died with
blasphemy upon his lips, after turning all the sanctities of human
nature into ridicule. Through these myths, as through a mist, we may
discern the bitterness of that great, disenchanted, disappointed soul.
The desert in which spirits of the stamp of Machiavelli wander is too
arid and too aerial for the gross substantial bugbears of the vulgar
conscience to inhabit. Moreover, as Varchi says, 'In his conversation
Machiavelli was pleasant, serviceable to his friends, a friend of
virtuous men, and, in a word, worthy of having received from nature
either less genius or a better mind.'