"Your very kind letter has made me forget my past disasters; and
although I was convinced of the affection you bore me, yet your letter
delighted me. I thank you heartily, and pray God that I may be able to
show my gratitude to your advantage. You may derive this pleasure from
my misfortunes, that I think well of myself for the courage with which I
bore them, so that I feel myself of more value than I before gave myself
credit for: and if my masters, the magnificent Giuliano and your Paolo,
to whom I owe my life, will raise me from the earth, I think they will
hereafter have cause to congratulate themselves. If they will not, I
shall live as I have done before; for I was born poor, and I learnt to
suffer before I learnt to enjoy. If you remain at Rome, I will spend
some time with you, as you advise. All our friends salute you. Every day
we assemble at some lady's house, so to recover our strength. Yesterday
we went to see the procession in the house of Sandra di Pero, and thus
we pass our time during this universal rejoicing, enjoying the remnant
of life, which appears to me like a dream. Valete.
"Florence, 18th of March, 1513.
From this time till the end of his life we possess a series of
Machiavelli's private correspondence, of the most valuable kind. His
chief friend was Vettori, who continued to reside as ambassador at Rome.
Some of their letters are long political discussions, which Vettori drew
Machiavelli in to write, that he might show them to pope Leo X., and
excite him to admire and employ his talents. His endeavours were without
success. Machiavelli continued for many years to live in obscurity,
sometimes at Florence, sometimes at his country-house at San Casciano, a
bathing town among the hills, south of Pisa. His letters from Florence
contain the gossip of their acquaintance,--amusing anecdotes that paint
the manners, while they give us no exalted idea of the morals, of the
Italians of those days. Machiavelli himself had no poetry nor delicacy
of imagination: his feelings were impetuous, and his active mind
required some passion or pursuit to fill it. He bitterly laments the
inaction of his life, and expresses an ardent desire to be employed.
Meanwhile, he created occupation for himself; and it is one of the
lessons that we may derive from becoming acquainted with the feelings
and actions of celebrated men, to learn that this very period, during
which Machiavelli repined at the neglect of his contemporaries, and the
tranquillity of his life, was that during which his fame took root, and
which brought his name down to us. He occupied his leisure in writing
those works which have occasioned his immortality. No one would have
searched the Florentine archives for his public correspondence, acute
and instructive as it is, nor would his private letters now lie before
us, if he had not established a name through his other writings. He
wrote them to bring himself into present notice, and to show the Medici
the worth of that man whom they dishonoured and neglected.
One of his letters from the country to Vettori, is so interesting, and
so necessary to the appreciation of his character, that we give it at
length:--
"_Tarde non furon mai grazie divine._ Divine favours never come too
late. I say this, because it seemed to me that I had, not lost, but
mislaid your kindness, you having remained so long without writing to
me, that I wondered what might be the cause. Your last of the 23d
dissipated my doubts, and I am delighted to find how quietly and
regularly you fulfil your office. I advise you to go on thus; for
whosoever neglects his own affairs for those of others, injures himself
and gets no thanks. As fortune chooses to dispose of our lives, let her
alone. Do not exert yourself, but wait till she urges other men to do
something, when it will be time for you to come forward, and for me to
say. Here I am. I cannot thank you in any way except by giving you an
account of my life here; and you may see whether it is worth exchanging
for yours.
"I remain at my country house; and since the last events I have not
spent in all twenty days in Florence. I have hitherto been killing
thrushes. Rising before daylight I prepared my snares, and set off with
a bundle of cages at my back, so that I resembled Geta, when he returns
from the harbour with Amphytrion's books. I took two or at most seven
thrushes each day.[127] Thus passed September, since when, to my great
annoyance, this diversion has failed me; and my life has been such as I
will now detail. I rise with the sun, and go to a wood of mine, which I
am cutting; where I remain a couple of hours, reviewing the work of the
past day, and talking with the woodcutters, who are always in trouble
either for themselves or their neighbours. I have a thousand
entertaining things to tell you, which have happened with regard to this
wood[128], between me and Fresino da Panzaro and others, who wanted to
buy some of the wood. Frosino sent for several loads without saying a
word to me; and on payment wanted to keep back ten livres, which he says
he ought to have had from me four years ago, having won it at play, at
the house of Antonio Guicciardini. I began to play the devil, and to
accuse the carrier of cheating, on which G. Machiavelli interfered, and
brought us to agree. When the north wind blew, Battista Guicciardini,
Filippo Ginori, Tommaso del Bene, and several other citizens took a
load. I promised some to all, and sent one to Tommaso, half of which
went to Florence, because he and his wife and children were there to
receive it. So, seeing I gained nothing by it, I told the others that I
had no more wood, which made them all very angry, especially Battista,
who numbers this among other state troubles. When I leave the wood I go
to a fountain, where I watch my bird nets with a book in hand; either
Dante or Petrarch, or one of the minor Latin poets--Tibullus, Ovid, or
one similar. I read the accounts of their loves; I think of my own, and
for a while enjoy these thoughts. Then I go to the inn on the road side;
I talk with the passers by; ask the news of their villages; I hear many
things, and remark on the various tastes and fancies of men. Meanwhile
the hour of dinner arrives, and I dine with my family on such food as my
poor house and slight patrimony afford. When I have dined, I return to
the inn; where I usually find the host, a butcher, a miller, and two
kiln men: with these I associate for the rest of the day, playing at
cricca and tric-trac. We have a thousand squabbles; angry words are
used, often about a farthing, and we wrangle so loudly, that you might
hear us at San Casciano. Immersed in this vulgarity, I exhaust my
spirits, and give free course to my evil fortune; letting her tread me
thus under foot, with the hope that she will at last become ashamed of
herself.
"When evening comes I return home, and shut myself up in my study.
Before I make my appearance in it, I take off my rustic garb, soiled
with mud and dirt, and put on a dress adapted for courts or cities. Thus
fitly habited I enter the antique resorts of the ancients; where, being
kindly received, I feed on that food which alone is mine, and for which
I was born. For an interval of four hours I feel no annoyance; I forget
every grief, I neither fear poverty nor death, but am totally immersed.
As Dante says, 'No one learns a science unless he remembers what he is
taught;' so have I noted down that store of knowledge which I have
collected from this conversation; and have composed a little work on
princely governments, in which I analyse the subject as deeply as I can,
discussing what a principality is; how many kinds there are; in what way
they are acquired; how kept; how lost: and if any devise of mine ever
pleased you, this will not be displeasing. It ought to be acceptable to
princes, and chiefly to a new prince, wherefore I address it to Giuliano
de' Medici. Filippo Casavecchia has seen it, and can describe the thing
to you, and recount the discussions we have had together about it. I am
still adding to and polishing it.
"Your excellency desires that I should leave this place to go and enjoy
myself with you. I will do so assuredly; but am detained by some
affairs, which will keep me here about seven weeks. The only thing that
causes me to hesitate is, that the Soderini are in your town; and I
should be obliged to see and visit them; and I should be afraid on my
return that, instead of alighting at my own door, I should alight at the
gates of the prison; because, although our person here (_Giuliano de'
Medici_) has secure foundation, and is fixed, yet he is new and
suspicious; and there are not wanting meddling fellows, like Paolo
Bertini, who would draw upon others and leave me all the trouble.
Preserve me from this fear, and I will certainly come to you.
"I have talked with Philip concerning my little work, whether I shall
dedicate it or not; and if I do, whether I shall present it myself, or
send it to you. If I do not dedicate it, I fear that Giuliano will not
even read it, but that Ardinghelli will get the honour of it. Necessity
drives me to present it, for I pine away, and cannot remain long thus
without becoming despicable through poverty. I wish these signori Medici
would begin to make use of me, even if I commenced by rolling a stone,
for if I did not afterwards gain their favour I should despise myself.
And, therefore, if this book were read, they would see that, for the
fifteen years during which I studied the arts of government, I neither
slept nor played; and every one ought to be glad to make use of one who
has learned experience at the expense of others. Nor need they doubt my
fidelity; for having proved myself trustworthy hitherto, I would not
alter now: he who has been faithful for forty-three years, as I have,
cannot change his nature; and my poverty is a witness of my honour and
disinterestedness.
"I wish you would tell me what you think on these matters, and so
farewell.--_Si felix._
"NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI.
"10th of December, 1513."
The expressions in this letter appear sufficiently clear, that he wrote
"The Prince," for the purpose of recommending himself to the Medici, and
of being employed by them. His sons afterwards declared to our
countryman, cardinal Pole, that he alleged, his intention to be, to
induce the Medici to render themselves so hateful to Florence, by acting
on the maxims he laid down, as to cause them to be exiled anew. There is
no trace of this idea in his private correspondence. Giuliano de' Medici
was an amiable prince, and he often praises him highly. It is true that
his work is dedicated to Lorenzo de' Medici; but this change was
occasioned by the death of Giuliano. And even of Lorenzo, who was
unpopular. Machiavelli writes thus to Vettori:--"I must give you some
account of the proceedings of the Magnifico Lorenzo, which have hitherto
been such as to fill the city with hope; so that every one begins to see
his grandfather revived in him. He is diligent and affable, and causes
himself to be loved and respected, rather than feared." Nor can it be
believed that Machiavelli was so devoid of understanding, as to fancy
that he could dupe men as intelligent as Leo X. and cardinal Julius, who
were the heads of the family, by so barefaced an artifice. Besides that,
the authority of the Medici was maintained by foreign arms, and the
citizens were already very willing to get rid of them, as was proved a
very few years after. Yet his real intentions form a question, perhaps,
never to be decided. On one hand, the treatise is so broad and
unplausible in its recommendations, that it is difficult to suppose him
in earnest; and, on the other, it is so dry, and has in so small a
degree the air of irony, that it can scarcely be regarded as a satire.
If it is, it is ill done, since men have not yet agreed whether it is
one or not.
Let us turn to the work itself, however, and present some analysis of a
treatise which has been the subject of so much disquisition.
Machiavelli, in the letter given above, professes to have written his
book for the instruction of new princes,--_principi nuovi_,--sovereigns
lately raised to power. Italy was then divided into small states,
governed by a variety of lords. Sometimes one among them endeavoured,
like Cæsar Borgia, to conquer a number of these, and to unite them into
one state. Machiavelli taught how a prince thus situated might acquire
and confirm his power. He adduces the example of the Duke of Valence,
saying, "He does not know how to give better precepts to a new sovereign
than those afforded by a view of Borgia's conduct." [129] He describes
the course of his policy, applauds the perfidy with which he destroyed
the confederates of Magione, and holds up the death of Ramiro d' Oreo as
a laudable proceeding. He allows, that perseverance in cruelty on the
part of a prince becomes unendurable. "And, therefore," he says, "a
prince should determine to execute all his acts of blood at once, so
that he may not be obliged each day to renew them; but give security to
his subjects, and gain them by benefits. Injuries ought to be done at
once, because thus they are less felt, and offend less; but benefits
ought to be bestowed gradually, that they may produce a profounder
impression."
The reader may judge whether this maxim is sagacious, and seriously
enjoined; or mischievous, and therefore brought forward with sinister
and sarcastic motives.
The first fourteen chapters are taken up by considering the various
modes by which a prince acquires power--either by force of arms, or the
favour of the citizens; being imposed on them by the aristocracy, or
raised by the affection of the people. In the course of these
considerations he remarks (chap, V.), that "he who becomes master of a
city habituated to freedom, and does not destroy it, must expect to be
destroyed by it; because it will, in every rebellion, take refuge in the
name of liberty and its ancient rights, the memory of which can never be
extinguished by time or benefits." The fifteenth chapter is
headed,--"Concerning those things for which men, and principally
sovereigns are praised or blamed." He begins by saying,--"It now remains
to be seen what government and treatment a prince ought to observe with
his subjects and friends. I know many people have written on this topic;
and I expect, therefore, to be accused of presumption, in differing from
the opinions of others in my view of the subject. But, it being my
intention to write what is useful to those who rule, it appears to me
better to follow up the truth of things, than to bring forward imaginary
ideas." He adds, "A man who, instead of acting for the best, acts as he
ought, seeks rather his ruin than his preservation. For he who resolves
on all occasions to adhere to what is virtuous, must be destroyed by the
many who are not virtuous. Hence it is necessary that a prince, who
would maintain his power, should learn not to be virtuous, but to adapt
the morality of his actions to the dictates of necessity." He then
enumerates the good and bad qualities for which sovereigns are
distinguished, and adds:--"I know that every one will confess that it
would he laudable for a prince to possess all the above-mentioned
qualities, which are considered virtuous; but human nature does not
allow of this. It is necessary, however, that he should be prudent, and
avoid the infamy of those vices which would deprive him of power; and it
would be well if he avoided the others also, if it were possible; but if
it be not possible, he may yield to them with less danger. And also he
must not hesitate to incur the reputation of those vices, through which
his government may be preserved; for, on deep consideration, it will be
found that there is a line of conduct which appears right, but which
leads to ruin: and there is another which appears vicious, but from
which security and prosperity flow."
And this is what is called Machiavelian policy.
He goes on to show, that generosity, which is supported by extortion,
must injure a prince more than parsimony, which makes no demands on the
subject; he therefore advises a prince to gain a character for
liberality, rather by being prodigal of the wealth of others than his
own. "For," he says, "nothing consumes itself so much as liberality; for
while you use it, you lose your power of so doing, and you become poor
and despicable; or, to escape from poverty, grow rapacious and odious. A
prince ought carefully to guard against becoming odious and
contemptible: and liberality is one of the good qualities most likely to
lead to this result, and therefore to be avoided."
He then treats of "Cruelty and clemency, and whether it is better to be
feared or loved." He says;--"Every sovereign ought to desire to be
esteemed merciful, and not cruel. Nevertheless, he ought to take care to
what use he puts his mercy. Cæsar Borgia was considered cruel;
nevertheless his cruelty subdued Romagna, and united it, and reduced it
to peace and obedience. A prince, therefore, ought not to fear the
reputation of cruelty, if by it he preserves his subjects tranquil and
faithful. A few examples will be more merciful than tolerating
disorders, through a compassion, which gives rise to assassinations and
disturbances; for these injure the community, while the execution of
offenders is injurious to individuals only." He then enters on a
discussion of whether it is better for a prince to be loved or feared.
He decides for the latter; for, he says, "Love is a duty, which, as men
are wicked, is continually transgressed; but fear arises from the dread
of punishment, which is never lost sight of." Nothing can be more false
than this. Men like to be benefited even more than they dislike being
injured; and love is a more universal passion than terror. He continues,
"Still a prince, while he seeks to be feared, must avoid being
hated--for fear is very distinct from hatred. And he ought always to
avoid seizing on the goods of his subjects. He may, as far as is
justified by the cause given, proceed against the life of an individual;
but let him not touch the possessions. For men more easily forget the
death of a father than the loss of patrimony." After stating this
diabolical and false maxim in all its native deformity, he proceeds to
consider the propriety of a sovereign's preserving his good faith:
remarking, that though good faith and integrity are praiseworthy in a
prince, experience in his own time shows those statesmen to have
achieved the greatest things, who held truth in small esteem:--"For
there are two ways of acting,--one by law and the other by force; the
one for men, the other for animals; but when the first does not succeed,
it is necessary to have recourse to the second; and a sovereign ought to
know how to put the animal man to good use. A prudent prince cannot and
ought not to observe faith, when such observance would injure him, or
the occasions for which he pledged himself are at an end. A sovereign,
therefore, need not possess all the virtues I have mentioned; but it is
necessary that he should appear so to do. A prince cannot always
practise the qualities which are esteemed good, being often obliged to
maintain his power by acting against the dictates of humanity and
religion. He must act conscientiously when he can; but when obliged, he
ought to be capable of doing ill. A prince ought to take great care not
to say a word that is not animated by good feeling, and he ought to
appear full of pity, integrity, humanity, and religion; and there is
nothing so necessary as that he should appear to attend to the last.
Every one sees what you seem; few know what you are." Very false,
notwithstanding its plausibility: children even have an instinct for
detecting false appearances.
He tells princes to cherish the affections of the people; as, he says,
if loved by his subjects, he need fear no conspiracy; but, hated by
them, he has every thing to dread. He avers, also, that it is easier for
a newly raised prince to make friends of those who opposed him, than to
preserve the good will of his own partisans. He goes on to give much
advice concerning the choice of ministers and courtiers, and concerning
the influence of fortune over states; and shows how concord and
constancy are the only modes by which a government can preserve itself
during the variations of fortune; and that, above all, it is necessary
not to submit timidly, but to command her by audacity and resolution.
He concludes by an exhortation to the Italians to drive the barbarians,
French, Spaniards, and Germans, from their country. "It appears to me,"
he says, "considering all things, that there is an admirable opening for
a new prince to introduce another state of things into Italy. Does not
the whole land pray God to send her some one to free her from the
barbarians? And is she not ready to follow any banner, if some one
prince would display it? Nor do we see any house from which she can hope
so much as yours (_that of Lorenzo de' Medici_) favoured as it is by God
and the church; being at the head of which, it may lead us to this
redemption. The justice of your cause is great, and the war will be
just, and necessary, and pious. God, also, has opened the way for you.
The Italians, however, must accustom themselves to the exercise of arms,
if they would defend their country from foreign invaders. The infantry
of other kingdoms have their defects: the Spaniards cannot stand the
impetus of cavalry; the Swiss would fear any infantry which should show
itself as strong as themselves. Let the Italians, therefore, form an
army of foot that shall possess none of these defects, and which shall
be able to resist the shock of both horse and foot; and this must be
done by a novel style of command, by introducing which, a new ruler will
acquire reputation and power. You ought not, therefore, to lose this
opportunity of appearing as the deliverer of Italy. I cannot express
with what affection such a one would be received in those provinces
which have suffered from the inundation of foreign troops; with what
thirst of vengeance, what resolute fidelity; with what piety, and what
grateful tears he would be followed. What gates would be shut against
him? what people would refuse to render him obedience? what Italian
would hesitate to submit to his rule? Every one abhors the authority of
the barbarians. Let, therefore, your illustrious house assume this
enterprise, animated by that hope which a just cause inspires, so that
your country may rise triumphant under your auspices."
There is nothing that is not patriotic and praiseworthy in these
exhortations; and they were such, moreover, as were likely to gain the
hearts of the Italians. If, therefore, he is previously sarcastic, he is
serious here; and the mixture renders still more enigmatic the question
of the aim he had in view in this work.
Besides "The Prince," Machiavelli wrote, at this time, his "Essays on
the first Decade of Livy." These are considered by their author as his
best work; an opinion confirmed by the learned Italians of the present
day. They breathe a purely republican spirit, and have for their scope
to demonstrate how the greatness of Rome resulted from the equal laws of
the commonwealth, and the martial character of its citizens. He
dedicated them to his friends Zanobi Buondelmonte, and Cosimo Rucellai,
who were the patrons of the academy of the Rucellai gardens, a society
set on foot by the father of Cosimo, for the support of the Platonic
philosophy, and whose youthful followers were all devoted to liberty.
"The Art of War" was also written at this time, as well as his two
comedies, his "Belfegor," and "Life of Castruccio Castracani." The
"Belfegor" has laid him open to the supposition that he was not happy in
his married life: but there is no foundation for this notion. He was,
early in life, married to Marietta Corsini, and had five children. He
always mentions his wife with affection and respect in his letters, and
gives tokens, in his will, of the perfect confidence he reposed in her.
"Belfegor" has always been a popular tale: it is written with great
spirit, and possesses the merit of novelty and wit. His comedies are
thought highly of by the Italians. The "Mandragola," licentious as it
is, was a great favourite. Leo X. caused the actors and scenic
decorations to be brought from Florence to Rome, that he might see it
represented; and Guicciardini invited the author to come to get it up at
Modena, and tells him to bring with him a favourite singer and actress,
named La Barbara, to give it more effect: so early in Italian history do
we find mention of prime donne, and of the court paid to them.
But all this diligent authorship did not satisfy the active mind of
Machiavelli: he tried to school himself to content, and says, in one of
his letters to Vettori, "I am arrived at not desiring any thing again
with passion." But this was a deceit which he practised on himself. "If
I saw you," he writes again to his friend, "I should fill your head with
castles in the air; because fortune has so arranged, that, not being
able to discourse concerning the silk trade, nor the woollen trade, nor
of gains nor losses, I must talk of the art of government."--"While I
read and re-read your disquisitions on politics, I forget my adversity,
and appear to have entered again on those public affairs, in prosecuting
which I vainly endured so much fatigue, and spent so much time."
The endeavours of Vettori, who was attached to the Medici, to gain
favour for his friend with Leo X., were long ineffectual; and
Machiavelli showed symptoms of despair.
[Sidenote: 1514.
Ætat.
45.]
"It seems," he writes, "that I am to continue in my hole, without
finding a man who will remember my services, or believe that I can be
good for any thing. It is impossible that I can remain long thus. I pine
away; and see that, if God will not be more favourable to me, I shall be
obliged to leave my home, and become secretary to some petty officer, if
I can do nothing else; or exile myself into some desert to teach
children to read. I shall feign that I am dead; and my family will get
on much better without me; as I am the cause of expense--being
accustomed to spend, and unable to do otherwise. I do not write this to
induce you to take trouble for my sake; but to ease my mind, so as not
to recur again to so odious a subject."
Yet all his letters are not complaining. The spirit of "Belfegor" and
"La Mandragola" animates many of them. "We are now grave," he writes,
"and now frivolous; but we ought not to be blamed for this variety, as
in it we imitate nature, which is full of change."
[Sidenote: 1519.
Ætat.
50.]
The first use to which the Medici put him, was when Leo X. had placed
the cardinal Julius over Florence, and washed to remodel the government.
He addressed himself to Machiavelli for his advice; and the latter
wrote, in reply, his "Essay on the Reform of the Government of Florence,
Written at the request of Leo X." Soon after Leo died, and the cardinal
Julius expected to have been elected pope. He was disappointed, and
returned to Florence to confirm his authority. The death of Leo awakened
the hopes of the opposite party; and a conspiracy was at this juncture
entered into by the nephew of the gonfaloniere Soderini and the young
philosophers of the Rucellai, to expel the Medici. It was discovered;
two ringleaders were put to death, and the rest fled.
Sismondi hastily assumes the fact, that Machiavelli was implicated in
this plot; but, on the contrary, there seems every proof that he took no
part in it whatever; and at this very time he was again employed by the
reigning powers.
[Sidenote: 1521.
Ætat.
52.]
The Minor Friars were assembled in chapter at Carpi, in the duchy of
Modena. The government of Florence wished to obtain from them, that
their republic should be formed by their order, into a distinct
province, separated from the rest of Tuscany. At the instance of
cardinal Julius, Machiavelli was charged with this negotiation. A few
days after his arrival at Carpi, the council of the company of the
woollen trade commissioned him to procure a good preacher for the
metropolitan church at Florence, during the ensuing Lent. His letters to
his employers, on these occasions, are as serious and methodical as
during any other legation; but in his heart he disdained the petty
occupation. His friend Francesco Guicciardini, the celebrated historian,
was then governor of Modena; and several amusing letters passed between
them while Machiavelli was at Carpi. Guicciardini writes: "When I read
your titles of ambassador to republics and friars, and consider the
number of kings and princes with whom you have formerly negotiated, I am
reminded of Lysander, who, after so many victories, had the office of
distributing provisions to the army he had formerly commanded; and I say
that, though the aspects of men, and the exterior appearances of things,
are changed, the same circumstances perpetually return, and we witness
no event that did not take place in times gone by."
Machiavelli replies with greater gaiety:--"I can tell you that, on the
arrival of your messenger, with a bow to the ground, and a declaration
that he was sent express and in haste, every one arose with so many bows
and so much clamour, that all things seemed turned topsy-turvy. Many
persons asked me the news; and I, to increase my importance, said that
the emperor was expected at Trent, that the Swiss were assembling a new
diet, and that the king of France was going to have an interview with
the king of England; so that all stood open-mouthed and cap in hand to
hear me. I am surrounded by a circle now, while writing, who, seeing me
occupied upon so long a letter, wonder and regard me as one possessed;
and I, to excite their surprise, pause now and then, and look very wise;
and they are deceived. If they knew what I was writing, their wonder
would in crease. Pray send one of your men again; and let him hurry, and
arrive in a heat, so that these people may be more and more astonished;
for thus you will do me honour, and the exercise will be good for the
horse at this season of the year. I would now write you a longer letter,
if I were willing to tire out my imagination; but I wish to preserve it
fresh for to-morrow. Remember me, and farewell.
"Your servant,
"NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI,
"Ambassador to the Minor Friars.
"Carpi, 17th of May, 1521."
This letter, as well as well as one of Guicciardini's on this occasion,
has been mutilated by a person, whose scrupulous good taste was offended
by the tone of some of the pleasantries. That was not the age of decorum
either in speech or action.
[Sidenote: 1524.
Ætat.
55.]
The cardinal Julius had commissioned Machiavelli to write the history of
Florence, and he proceeded in it as far as the death of Lorenzo de'
Medici. He writes to Guicciardini, on the 30th of August, 1524, "I am
staying in the country, occupied in writing my history; and I would give
fivepence--I will not say more--to have you here, that I might show you
where I am, as in certain particulars I wish to know whether you would
be offended most by my elevated or humble manner of treating them. I
try, nevertheless, to write so as, by telling the truth, to displease no
one."
[Sidenote: 1526.
Ætat.
57.]
Cardinal Julius had now become pope, under the title of Clement VII. He
paid Machiavelli a regular but very limited salary as historiographer.
Having brought it down to the time of the death of Lorenzo de' Medici,
he made a volume of it, and dedicated it to the pope. On this occasion
he writes to Guicciardini, "I have received a gratification of 100
ducats for my history. I am beginning again; and relieve myself by
blaming the princes who have done every thing they can to bring us to
this pass." He signs himself to this letter, Niccolò Machiavelli,
historian, comic and tragic author,--_storico, comico, et tragico._
The condition of Italy was at this period most deplorable. The French
had been driven from Italy after the battle of Pavia; but no sooner was
that power humbled, than the various states began to regard with alarm
the ascendancy of the emperor Charles V. A confederacy was formed by the
chief among them, for the purpose of holding this powerful monarch in
check; and he sent the constable Bourbon to Milan to preserve that
duchy. Thus there were two armies in the heart of the peninsula, both
unpaid, both lawless, and destructive to friends as well as to enemies.
The emperor sent no supplies to Bourbon; and the pope, who was at the
head of the Italian league, showed himself so timid and vaccillating,
and, above all, so penurious, as to bring down ruin on his cause.
Bourbon was unable to keep his troops together, except by promises of
plunder; and he led them southward by slow advances, with the intention
of enriching them by the sack of Florence or Rome. The danger was
nearest to the former city; and Clement VII. considered it requisite to
put it in a state of defence. Machiavelli was employed to inspect the
progress of the fortifications. He executed his task diligently, and, as
was his wont, put his whole heart and soul into his occupation. "My head
is so full of bulwarks," he says, "that nothing else will enter it."
The imperial army continued to advance; and the Florentine government,
in great alarm, sent Machiavelli to Guicciardini, governor of Modena,
and lieutenant-general of the papal forces, to take measures with regard
to the best method of securing the republic; and it was agreed that, if
the imperialists advanced, the forces of the church should be sent in
aid of Florence. The winter season and other circumstances delayed the
operations of the imperialists, but early in the following spring the
danger grew imminent.
[Sidenote: 1527.
Ætat.
58.]
Bourbon had arrived with his army to the vicinity of Bologna; and there
was every likelihood that his army would traverse Tuscany, and attack
Florence itself. Machiavelli again went to Parma, to advise with
Guicciardini, to watch over the movements of the hostile army, and to
send frequent intelligence to Florence of their proceedings. The
republic wished that the troops of the Italian league should assemble at
Bologna, and be on the spot to guard the frontiers of Tuscany.
The imperialists continued to advance: the pope, alarmed by their
progress, entered into a treaty for peace with the emperor; but it was
uncertain whether the army under Bourbon would agree to it. Machiavelli
continued for some weeks at Parma, and then accompanied Guicciardini to
Bologna, watching their movements. It was doubtful what road they would
take on proceeding to Rome; but the chances still were, that they would
pass through Tuscany. The army now removed to Castel San Giovanni, ten
miles from Bologna, where they remained some days, detained by the bad
weather, and overflowing of the low lands, caused by the melting of the
snow, which had fallen heavily around Bologna: they were in danger,
while thus forced to delay, of being reduced to great straits for want
of provisions. "If this weather lasts two days longer," Machiavelli
wrote to his government, "the duke of Ferrara may, sleeping and sitting,
put an end to the war."
A truce was concluded between Clement VII. and the ministers of Charles
V.; but it was not acceded to by Bourbon and his army. The pope,
however, unaware of this circumstance, dismissed his troops, and
remained wholly unguarded. The imperialists, rendered unanimous through
the effects of hunger and poverty, continued to advance. They entered
Tuscany; but, without staying to attack Florence, they hurried on by
forced marches and falling unexpectedly on Rome, took it by assault; and
that dreadful sack took place, which filled the city with death and
misery, and spread alarm throughout Italy. Machiavelli followed the
Italian army, as it advanced to deliver the pope, who was besieged in
the Castel Sant' Angelo. From the environs of Rome he repaired to
Cività Vecchia, where Andrea Doria commanded a fleet; and from him he
obtained the means of repairing by sea to Leghorn. Before embarking, he
received intelligence of the revolution of Florence. On hearing of the
taking of Rome, on the 6th of May, the republicans rose against the
Medici; and they were forced to quit the city. The government was
changed on the 16th of May, and things were restored to the state they
were in 1512.
Machiavelli returned to Florence full of hope. He considered that the
power was now in the hands of his friends, and that he should again
enter on public life under prosperous auspices. His hopes were
disappointed--public feeling was against him: his previous services, his
imprisonment and torture, were forgotten; while it was remembered that,
since 1513, he had been continually aiming at getting employed by the
Medici, against whom the popular feeling was violently excited. He had
succeeded at last; and was actually in their service, when they were
driven from the city. These circumstances rendered him displeasing to
men who considered themselves the deliverers of their country.
Machiavelli was disappointed by their neglect, and deeply wounded by
their distrust. He fell ill; and taking some pills, to which he was in
the habit of having recourse when indisposed, he grew worse, and died
two days after--on the 22d of June, 1527--in the 59th year of his age.
Paul Jovius, his old enemy, insinuates that he took the medicine for the
sake of destroying himself,--a most clumsy sort of suicide,--but there
is no foundation whatever for this report.[130] His wife Marietta, the
daughter of Ludovico Corsini, survived him; and he left five
children,--four sons and one daughter. He had made a will in 1511, when
secretary of the republic; and in 1522 he made another, which only
differs in details--the spirit is the same. He leaves his "beloved wife"
an addition to her dower, and divides the rest of his slight fortune
between his children. Marietta is left guardian and trustee of the
younger children--to continue till they were nineteen--with a clause
forbidding them to demand any account of money spent; and mentions that
he reposes entire confidence in her.
Machiavelli was of middle stature, rather thin, and of olive complexion.
He was gay in conversation, obliging with his friends, and fond of the
arts. He had readiness of wit; and it is related of him, that, being
reproved for the maxims of his "Prince," he replied--"If I taught
princes how to tyrannise, I also taught the people how to destroy them."
He probably developes in these words, the secret of his writings. He was
willing to _teach_ both parties, but his heart was with the republicans.
He was buried at the church of Santa Croce at Florence; and soon after
his death a violent sensation was created against his works--principally
through an attack on the "Prince," by our own countryman, cardinal Pole.
They were interdicted by successive popes, and considered to contain
principles subversive of religion and humanity.
It was not till the lapse of more than two centuries that a re-action of
feeling took place--and the theory was brought forward, that he wrote
for the sake of inducing the Medici to render themselves odious to their
countrymen, so as to bring ruin and exile again on their house. In 1782,
the Florentines were induced by the representations of an English
nobleman, lord Cowper, to pay honour to their countryman, and set on
foot a complete edition of his works; which Leopold, grand duke of
Tuscany, permitted to be printed; and which was preceded by an eulogium
written by Baldelli. In 1787, a monument was erected over his remains,
on which was carved the following inscription:--
Tanto Nomini nullum par Elogium
NICOLAUS MACHIAVELLI.
Obiit Anno A. P. V. MDXXVII.
There remains no descendant of Machiavelli. His grandson, by his only
daughter. Giuliano Ricci, left several writings relative to his
illustrious ancestor, which are preserved in the archives of the Ricci
family. The branch of the Machiavelli, descending from the secretary,
terminated in Ippolita Machiavelli, married to Francesco de' Ricci in
1608. The other branch terminated in Francesco Maria, Marchese di Quinto
in the Vicentino, who died in Florence, 1726.
[Footnote 111: Baldelli.]
[Footnote 112: Let. Fam. II.]
[Footnote 113: Guicciardini.]
[Footnote 114: Guicciardini.]
[Footnote 115: Guicciardini.]
[Footnote 116: Lettere di Machiavelli, Legazione al Duca Valentino.]
[Footnote 117: It must be mentioned, that a great enmity subsisted
between the Florentines and Vitellozzo Vitelli. His brother, Paolo
Vitelli, had commanded the troops of the republic at one time before
Pisa, and was suspected by them of treachery. They sent for him one
night to come to Florence, and he obeyed without hesitation. On his
arrival he was seized, cast into prison, tortured, and, though no
confession could be extorted from him, he was put to death the same
night. It was the intention of the Florentine government to seize on
Vitellozzo also, but he escaped and took refuge in Pisa. Borgia had at
one time taken up the cause of the Medici, and threatened Florence: he
now threw the blame of this action upon the counsels of Vitellozzo.]
[Footnote 118: This letter is lost; and we are thus deprived of a most
interesting link in the correspondence, and an insight into
Machiavelli's feelings. In it he detailed the half confidence that
Borgia at last reposed in him--when, at the moment of execution, there
was no longer any necessity for concealing his intentions.]
[Footnote 119: Half an hour before sunset: in December, about half after
three o'clock.]
[Footnote 120: "Account of the Mode in which the Valentian Duke
destroyed Vitellozzo Vitelli, Paolo Orsino, &c. &c."]
[Footnote 121: Two hours and a half after sunset. The Italian day of
twenty-four hours ends at dark, _i. e._ half an hour after sunset; and
then they begin one, two; but as they often say, one o'clock after noon,
two o'clock alter noon, so they designate these evening hours as hours
of night. This method of counting time is still practised by the common
people in Italy, south of the Apennines; and, indeed, by every one of
all ranks at Naples and Rome. Our mode of counting time is called by the
Italians, French time, as it was first introduced after the conquests of
Napoleon. It is often puzzling to hear of fourteen or fifteen
o'clock,--it is necessary to remember the season of the year, and the
hour of sunset, and how far that is off. On this occasion, the 31st of
December, the second hour of night was about half after six o'clock
P. M.; the sun setting at about four in December, in Italy.]
[Footnote 122: Guicciardini.]
[Footnote 123: There is something in the entrance of these "two
murderers," and their secret conference with the pope, that reminds one
of scenes in Shakspeare, which appear improbable in our days of ceremony
and exclusion.]
[Footnote 124: Guicciardini.]
[Footnote 125: One of Louis's expressions is curious:--"If the pope will
make any demonstration of friendship to me, though no bigger than the
black of my nail, I will respond by a yard." The black of the nail of
the king of France!]
[Footnote 126: Lettere Familiari, VIII.]
[Footnote 127: Machiavelli's bird-catching need not excite surprise. It
is the common pastime of Italian nobles of the present day, to go out
with an owl for a decoy, to shoot larks, thrushes, &c.]
[Footnote 128: Critics have given themselves the trouble to imagine and
explain a mysterious meaning here, and to suppose that Machiavelli's
wood is an allegory of the political labyrinth: but there is no
foundation for this idea. Machiavelli never recurred to allegory to
express his political opinions; and we have twenty letters of his to
Vettori, discussing the intentions and enterprises of the various
European princes, without any attempt at mystery or covert allusion. At
the same time we have also twenty letters full of anecdotes as
insignificant as those of the wood. He was fond of minute details, and
lively, though trifling, stories concerning himself and his friends.]
[Footnote 129: When Leo X. formed a duchy, of which he made his nephew
Lorenzo duke, Machiavelli, in a private letter to Vettori, discusses the
government that he ought to adopt. In this letter he again adduces the
example of Cæsar Borgia, saying, that were he a new prince, he would
imitate all his proceedings. This of course only alludes to the civil
government of Romagna, which was equitable and popular.]
[Footnote 130: He had before recommended these pills to Guicciardini,
saying that he himself never took more than two at a time. They are
chiefly composed of aloes. There is a letter from his son Pietro to
Francesco Nelli, professor at Pisa, which relates concisely the manner
of his death:--
"Dearest Francesco,--I cannot refrain from tears on being obliged to
inform you of the death of our father Niccolò, which took place on the
22d of this month, of colic, produced by a medicine which he took on the
20th. He allowed himself to be confessed by Frate Matteo, who remained
with him till his death. Our father has left us in the greatest poverty,
as you know. When you return here, I will tell you many things by word
of mouth. I am in haste, and will say no more than farewell.
"Your relation,
"PIETRO MACHIAVELLI."]