CHAPTER VI.

FLORENCE (II): MACHIAVELLI.

BY the year 1512 the downfall of the Florentine Republic was complete. Her failure was due to a variety of causes. A form of government which had worked satisfactorily while remaining outside the general stream of European politics, proved incapable of readjustment to novel conditions, and became an anachronism, more and more discredited as time went on. The character of the Florentine constitution rendered almost impossible any continuity of aim or persistence in policy. The Signoria changed every two months: the Died della guerra, who had de facto the largest control over foreign politics, changed every six months. No State could repose confidence in a government, in which political secrets could not be kept and where it appeared impossible to fix responsibility on anyone. From time to time efforts were made at Florence to remove this source of weakness, and the appointment in 1502 of a Gonfa-loniere holding office for life seemed to many men, including Machiavelli, to have at last furnished some real guarantee for a stable policy. Not only, however, was the notion of a permanent official at variance with the theories of political liberty accepted at Florence, but the new Gonfaloniere, Piero Soderini, was in reality unequal to his position, and maintained his authority only at the cost of much unnecessary friction. He was firm only in his allegiance to France. Louis XII on his part was indifferent to the real interests of the city, though ready to make what use he could of Florentine assistance in his Italian expeditions. When the French were ultimately forced to withdraw from Italy, Florence was left isolated and impotent.

A city so situated could only maintain its independence, if its military strength supplied more than a counterpoise to its constitutional weakness. An adequate army and trustworthy commanders were indispensable, and Florence possessed neither. The practice of hiring professional soldiers was general in Italy, and was adopted at Florence. It became the cause of incalculable evil. Not only was the city liable to be deserted or betrayed, even during a battle, by her mercenary troops, but the system necessarily involved a vast outlay of public money and a heavy taxation. By 1503 the financial crisis had in consequence become so acute that it was necessary to levy a tithe upon all real property. The evil was mitigated, but not removed, by the military reforms of 1506. Machiavelli, who carried into effect the new system, though the idea did not originate with him, was able, by means of his indomitable diligence and enthusiasm, to muster a force of about 5000 citizen soldiers; but in the end they proved to be of little service.

Florence was, moreover, set in the midst of many and great enemies. In the North, Ludovico il Moro at Milan, whether as open enemy or insidious friend, did what he could to damage the State, until he was taken prisoner by the French in 1500 and finally disappeared from Italian history. Venice had long ago abandoned her traditional policy and been seeking to acquire an inland empire, and, until the battle of Agnadello in 1509 crushed her power, harassed and impeded the Florentines at every turn. At Rome both Alexander VI and Julius II were indifferent or hostile to Florentine interests, and Cesare Borgia was believed, probably with reason, to include among his designs the incorporation of Tuscany with his other conquests. And besides the opposition of the larger Italian States, Florence had during this period to struggle against the hostility of nearly all the smaller towns in her neighbourhood. Pisa in particular was a source of endless trouble. From 1494, when Pisa, thanks to Charles VIII, threw off the Florentine dominion and became a free State, until 1509, Florence was at war with her; and any other Power, whose object was to damage Florence, was sure to intervene from time to time in the struggle.

In the great events of the years 1499-1512 Florence played but a subordinate part. When Louis XII was preparing his expedition against Milan, Florence held aloof, awaiting the result of the struggle. While Louis XII was at Milan, ambassadors arrived from Florence. The hesitation of the city to declare her intentions before the event had aroused some distrust in the French; but it would have been obviously undesirable, in view of the proposed expedition against Naples, to alienate the Florentines, and hence an arrangement was without difficulty concluded, by which Florence was to receive aid from Louis for the war against Pisa, and in return to supply him with troops and money (October 12, 1499). Thenceforward the fortunes of Florence were intimately linked with the fortunes of France.

In the campaign of Cesare Borgia against Imola and Forli the^e was nothing which directly menaced Florence; and when the Pope secretly endeavoured to influence Louis XII against the city, he was unsuccessful, and Louis gave definite instructions that Cesare was to do nothing detrimental to Florence. But it was becoming clear that the Borgian policy, in so far as it tended to consolidation, was a menace to the B^public: for even if Tuscany were not directly to suffer, one strong neighbour would take the place of many feeble ones.

While these events were in progress, the Florentines had devoted their best energies to the war against Pisa; but they were unable to make any real progress towards the capture of the town. In the summer of 1498 they had hired Paolo Vitelli as their general, and in 1499 it seemed as though Pisa would be forced to capitulate. But Vitelli failed at the last moment, and paid for his blunder with his life. Things became still worse when, in accordance with the agreement concluded at. Milan, October 12, some Swiss and Gascons were sent by Louis XII to the assistance of the Florentines. The Gascons soon deserted, while the Swiss mutinied; and Louis XII blamed the Florentines for the. fiasco. It was in connexion with these events that Machiavelli was. sent to France. He was unable to obtain any satisfaction, and it was not until three years later (1504), when the French had been defeated at Naples and the danger threatened by Cesare Borgia had passed away,, that Florence was able to resume operations with any vigour.

It was at this critical moment that the threatened conspiracy of Cesare Borgia's captains broke out. The exasperation which the Borgian projects had aroused at Florence led the conspirators to hope that the Republic would espouse their cause; and, after making themselves masters of the Duchy of Urbino, they appealed to Florence for assistance. But as soon as the existence of the conspiracy had become known, both the Pope and his son had in their turn applied to the Florentines and asked that ambassadors might be sent to confer with them. Machiavelli was deputed to visit Cesare Borgia, and remained with him till the end of the following January (1503). The arrival of French troops, for which Cesare Borgia applied to Lpuis XII and which were readily furnished, forced the recalcitrant captains to come to terms, and they were allowed to take service with him as before. But the hollow reconciliation deceived no one, and Machiavelli in particular had opportunities day by day to trace the stages by which Cesare Borgia, who never trusted twice to men who betrayed him once, lulled his opponents into a false sense of security, and finally took them prisoners at Sinigaglia (December 31). The ringleaders, including Vitellozzo Vitelli, were put to death by his orders. Thence he withdrew to Rome, where he arrived early in the following year (1503).

The year's work had not been, on the whole, unfavourable to the Borgias. Florence on the other hand had suffered seriously, and the incompetence of the government was generally obvious. The reform of 1502, which, carried as a compromise and supported by academic reasoning, provided for the election of a Gonfaloniere to hold office for life, did something to revive the spirits of the inhabitants, and met the wishes of Louis XII; but it added nothing to the real strength of the Republic. In the Neapolitan territory disputes had arisen between the French and the Spaniards, and all Northern Italy watched with anxiety the progress of the war. The defeat of the French at the battle of Cerignola (April 28, 1503) had a marked effect upon the policy of the Pope, who began in consequence to incline towards Spain; but on August 18 all the Borgian designs were cut short by the sudden and unexpected death of Alexander VI. His son was ill at the same time, and unable to do anything. The politics of the Italian States were thus completely disorganised, and Florence in common with the others looked anxiously for the election of the new Pope. Pius Ill's short reign of less than a month was without real influence upon the position of affairs. On November 1 he was succeeded by Julius II, whose election Cesare Borgia had not been able to prevent. With Julius II a new period begins not only in the history of Italy but of Europe.

But whatever advantages the Florentines might have derived from the disappearance of Cesare Borgia, they were more than counterbalanced by several other events. The final defeat of the French at the battle of the Garigliano (December 28,1503) placed the whole of southern Italy in the power of Spain; and the movements of Gonzalo, who was known to be willing to help Pisa, were a source of constant anxiety to the Republic. The presence of the Venetians in the Romagna, the ignorance which yet prevailed as to the intentions of the Pope, and the want of troops and of money, combined to produce a situation of extreme gravity at Florence. Within the city itself there was much discontent with the government of Soderini. He was, it is true, acceptable to the masses, having been able by rigid economy to lighten somewhat the burden of taxation; but the leading families in the State were irritated by neglect and by the filling up of the Signoria and Colleges with persons who were either nominees of the Gonfaloniere, or too insignificant to offer an effective opposition to his designs. His chief supporters were to be found among the younger men recently embarked upon political life and beginning to win a reputation for themselves. Among these Machiavelli in many unpretentious ways was of immense service to Soderini and, though sometimes disagreeing with him, proved ready to subordinate personal opinions to what seemed the general interest of the State. This was clearly seen early in 1504, when an attempt was made to reduce Pisa to extremities by diverting the course of the Arno. The plan had been strongly urged by Soderini and was supported by Machiavelli in his official capacity, though he had little hope that it could prove successful. Ultimately it had, of course, to be abandoned.

The regular failure of so many repeated attempts to overpower Pisa disheartened the Florentines, but their hatred was insatiable. Everything tended to confirm the opinion, to which many men had been long inclining, that success could only be achieved by a thorough reform of the military system. The year 1506 witnessed the actual carrying out •of a scheme which was to supersede the employment of mercenary troops. Machiavelli -.was the leading spirit in the whole movement; he was supported both by Soderini and by Antonio Giacomini. A national militia was instituted and a body of troops enrolled from the Contado; they numbered about 5000, and were mustered before the close of the year. A new magistracy with the title / Nove della mttizia was formed to manage all affairs connected with the militia in time of peace, while the authority in time of war would as usual rest with the Died della guerra. Machiavelli was in January, 1507, appointed chancellor of the Nove della milizia, and the main bulk of the work connected with the levy and organisation of the new troops fell to him.

During the following years Florence enjoyed a period of comparative repose, while Julius II was occupied with designs which did not directly concern Florence. The subjection of Perugia and Bologna, the War of Genoa, and the early operations of the War against Venice, left Florence to pursue her own designs, unattacked and unimpeded. But when in 1510 Julius decided to make peace with Venice, the consequence was a collision with France, and it was also clear that the Florentines would become involved in the struggle. To this they might, however, look forward with some measure of hopefulness; for they had at last (1509) reduced Pisa to submission, and one long-standing cause of weakness and waste was thus removed.

During the winter of 1510-11 Julius II successfully continued his military operations, until his progress was checked by the appointment of Gaston de Foix to the command of the French forces, in conjunction with Gian Giacomo Trivulzio. Throughout the spring reverse followed reverse, and by June the Pope was back in Rome; indeed, if Louis XII had permitted it, Trivulzio might have followed him unhindered to Rome itself. Had he done so, France would have commanded the whole of Northern and Central Italy, and once more cleared the road to Naples. Knowing this, Ferdinand of Aragon had, so early as June, 1511, made proposals to Julius for the formation of. a league to check the progress of the French. The idea, momentarily delayed by the illness of the Pope in August, was realised in October; and on the fifth of that month the Holy League was published at Rome. The contracting parties were Julius, Ferdinand and the Venetians: the ostensible object was the defence of Church interests and the recovery of Church property. The command of the allied forces was entrusted to the Viceroy of Naples, Ramon de Cardona.

By the expulsion of the French the object for which the Holy League had been really formed was accomplished, and it was necessary for the allied Powers to readjust their policy and to determine their future movements. For this purpose they held a congress at Mantua in August, at which among other subjects the reconstitution of the Italian States was discussed. It was decided to restore the Medici at Florence. This had been the Pope's avowed object since 1510, and he was not likely at this stage to see that it was, from his point of view, an impolitic blunder. The work was entrusted to Ramon de Cardona, who joined his army at Bologna and began to march southwards. He arrived without resistance at Barberino, about fifteen miles north of Florence. From there he sent to the city to demand the deposition of Soderini and the return of the Medici as private citizens. The Florentines refused to depose Soderini, though willing to receive the Medici on those terms. At the same time they sent a force of troops to garrison Prato. Ramon de Cardona therefore continued his advance; Prato was captured on August 30, and its inhabitants were with ruthless barbarity tortured, debauched and butchered. Further resistance was impossible. On September 1 Soderini was deposed, and on the same evening Giuliano de' Medici entered Florence, to be followed on the 14th by Giovanni and other members of the family. Nothing remained but to fix the form of the new government. The Consiglio Grande and the Died di baTia were abolished, as well as the Nove della milizia and the national militia; Accoppiatori were appointed to select the Signoria and Colleges a mano, and it was resolved that the Gonfaloniere should henceforth hold office for two months only. During the close of the year Florence settled down quietly under Medicean rule. The revolution was accomplished with more moderation than might have been expected; and even those who, like Machiavelli, had been zealous servants of Soderini, suffered as a rule no more than loss of official employment or temporary banishment.

These years, in which the fate of Florence was decided, while the Republic was dragged helpless in the chain of events, helpless to determine her own fortunes, were the period in which Machiavelli's term of political activity was comprised.

His natural gifts marked him out as peculiarly fitted to be an intellectual pioneer. He has more in common with the political thinkers of later generations than with the bulk of his contemporaries, on whom still pressed the dead hand of medievalism. It is true, of course, that he did not stand alone; both in Italy and in trance there were a few men who worked along the same lines and were approaching the same goal. Commines had nothing to learn from Machiavelli; and Guicciardini, his equal in ability and his superior in moral detachment, was harder and colder, and more logical. And there were men of lesser note, Vettori and Buonaccorsi and the long line of eminent historians from Nardi to Ammirato, who helped, each in one way or another, to break the fetters of tradition and to usher in the modern world. But there is no one among them all, except Machiavelli, who has won ecumenical renown. And the ultimate reason is that, although the area which he was able to observe was small, the horizon which he guessed was vast; he was able to overstep the narrow limits of Central Italy and Lombardy, to think upon a large scale, and to reach some real elevation of view. He made, it is true, many mistakes, and there is much in his writings that is indefensible; but, on the whole, later history has done much to justify him, and the view which is most essentially Machiavellian, that the art of government, like the*irt of navigation, is out of relation to morals, has hardly ever lacked authoritative support.

The doctrines of Machiavelli are not systematically expounded or adequately justified in any one of his books. It is only by piecing together the scattered notices in different writings and by comparing the forms in which similar ideas are presented at different periods, that there emerges slowly a general conception of the character of the whole. Some of these ideas were not original, but as old as the beginnings of recorded thought. In certain cases they were part of the intellectual heritage transmitted by Greece and Rome, adapted to a new setting and transfused with a new potency and meaning. Sometimes they were common to other contemporary publicists. Often they were provisional solutions of primitive problems, claiming no universal or permanent validity. Often, again, they were the expression of beliefs which among any people and at any period would be regarded as innocuous and inoffensive and perhaps even as obvious. Efforts have often been made to summarise them all in a single phrase, or to compress them within one wide generalisation. Such attempts have been always unsatisfactory, because much that is essential cannot be included. Machiavelli himself is not rightly viewed as, in the strict sense, a doctrinaire; he had no systematic theories to press. There was at no time anything rigid or harshly exclusive in his views: they were formed after slow deliberation, as experience and study widened his range or quickened his insight. They embrace elements which come from many sources, and, though they are on the whole fairly consistent, his writings contain many indications of the diffident and tentative steps by which the conclusions were reached.

The writings of nearly all the Florentine historians and publicists of the sixteenth century involve certain fundamental beliefs or hypotheses, upon which the whole structure of their reasoning rests; these are rarely stated totidem verbis in any passage, although implied in nearly all. The general body of their work forms a perpetual commentary upon a text, which is only incidentally enunciated; the method employed is expository only in appearance, but in reality genetic; the ultimate principles of the argument are the final result at which the reader arrives, .and not a guide which he has with him from the beginning. Even with an author like Machiavelli, who was not averse to repeating himself, and less reticent than many others, it is not always easy to be certain that the latent hypotheses and scattered hints have been correctly elicited and grouped. Still, it is in any case clear that what controlled his views of the movement of events, whether iij^his own day or in earlier times, and of the lessons which they convey, was, in the last analysis, a specific notion of man's nature as a permanent force realising itself and imposing itself upon external things, shaping and subjecting them. The conception of human nature to which he adhered was used as the foundation for a definite theory of history as a whole. Then the process of reasoning was reversed, and from the collective activity of national life a return was made to the isolated unit or individual, and an ethical supplement added, thus completing a general conspectus of man both in the State and in society. For though Machiavelli inferred that ethics and politics are distinct, and that the art of government is out of relation to morals, he founded both upon the same assumptions. The ethical portion of his work is, of course, of little importance in comparison with the political, and is usually wholly ignored.

The periods within which these inevitable revolutions are accomplished, might, with certain limitations, be regulated by human effort. Man, inasmuch as he is by nature a disorderly being, needed, whatever the form of the government, to be held under control by some despotic power; hence the necessity of law. The rights, the duties, and even the virtues of individuals are the creatures of law. The duration of any constitutional form and the life of any State is in large measure determined by the excellence of its laws. "It is true that a Power generally endures for a larger or a shorter time, according as its laws and institutions are more or less good.-Let Princes know that they begin to lose their State at that hour in which they begin to violate the laws, and those customs and usages which are ancient and under which men have lived for a long time." If the laws are inadequate or unsound, or if they can be ignored with impunity, the obligations hitherto resting upon the citizens are simultaneously removed. Machiavelli, however, believed that there can be extremely few cases in which a man is entitled to judge for himself of the working of law. "Men ought to give honour to the past, and obedience to the present; they ought to wish for good princes, but to put up with them, whatever their character." Innovation is hazardous . both for the subject and for the ruler. True political wisdom will be revealed in the organisation of government on a basis so firm that innovation becomes unnecessary. "The safety of a republic or a kingdom consists, not in having a ruler who governs wisely while he lives, but in being subject to one who so organises it that, when he dies, it may continue to maintain itself." Some element of permanence in the source of authority is the more indispensable, because there is a poiftt in the career of every society at which laws would otherwise be too feeble to cope with the general corruption: "there are no laws and no institutions which have power to curb a universal corruption.-Laws, if they are to be observed, presuppose good customs."

When the original obligation of morality and the standard of action had been fixed, it remained to enquire whether men were able to do what was right, i.e. whether they were free agents. The constant recurrence of the question in MachiaveUTs writings is the measure of the importance it possessed for him. He gave much consideration to this primitive problem, which he called il sopraccapo della JUosofia; he perceived that it was at least necessary to devise some intellectual compromise which, while in no way claiming to offer a logical solution, should be clear and manageable enough for practical life. His examination was neither thorough nor profound; he did not distinguish the senses which the word freedom may, in this context, assume; and his reasoning was complicated by the intrusion of ideas originating in a mythological and figurative conception of Fortune, and in some measure by the lingering influences of astrology. Through all his writings runs the idea of a personified Fortune,-a capricious deity, who is not merely the expression in a figure of the incalculable element in life, but a being with human passions and attributes. Here the suggestions and examples of classical authors, and especially of Polybius, were decisive for Machiavelli, in whom after the manner of his age ancient and modern modes of thought were fancifully blended. " I am not unaware,11 he wrote, " that many have held and still hold the opinion that human affairs are so ordered by Fortune and by God, that men cannot by their prudence modify them; rather, they have no remedy at all in the matter; and hence they may come to think they need not trouble much about things, but allow themselves to be governed by chance. This opinion has gained more acceptance in our own times, owing to the great changes which have been seen and are seen every day, beyond all human conjecture. I have sometimes thought about this, and have partly inclined to their opinion. Yet, in order that free-will may not be entirely destroyed, I believe the truth may be this: Fortune is the mistress of half our actions, but entrusts the management of the other half, or a little less, to us." This is the solution which, running all through Machiavellfs works, gave a special propriety to the repeated antithesis oifortuna and virtu. The same meaning would be expressed in modern phraseology by the statement that men determine their own lives, but only under conditions which they neither themselves create nor are able largely to control; or, that the will makes the act, but out of a material not made by it.

The contents of The Prince were little, if at all, affected by Machia-vellfs altered fortunes, though he hoped that if the book was read by the Medici, they might employ him in some official position, for which his past life qualified him. This did not prevent him from developing, without any reserve, the conclusions which his studies and experience had enabled him to mature. He was primarily concerned neither with his own interests nor with the Medici family, but with the problems presented by the condition of Italy in 1513. Ten years previously he had written the words : " Go forth from Tuscany, and consider all Italy." His early writings, and in particular his diplomatic letters, are crowded with suggestions of the form which the conclusions would ultimately take. Slowly, through at least fourteen years, his mind had moved in one direction, and new ideas of a wide compass and a lofty range had taken shape and asserted their claims to recognition. He had been a Florentine of the Florentines, hating Pisa and exulting over Venice. By 1513 he was almost persuaded to become an Italian, to merge the local in the national. Yet, although enthusiastic and at times even visionary, he was under no permanent delusion; the hope of an ultimate unity for Italy could not under the circumstances assume for him any precise form ; only as a far-distant aspiration, a pervasive thought, it formed the large background of his speculation. He knew that union was not possible then; but he held, in opposition to Guicciardini, that it was only through union that national prosperity becomes possible; " truly no country was ever united or prosperous, unless the whole of it passes beneath the sway of one commonwealth or one prince, as has happened in the cases of France and Spain." When, however, the possibility of such a thing in his own day was suggested to him, he was, he said, ready to laugh; no progress could be made in the presence of a disruptive Papacy, worthless soldiers, and divided interests. But if autonomy and independence of foreign control could be secured, the question would at once enter upon a new stage. Machiavelli did not mistake the problem; but he could not forecast the issues of the nineteenth century.

In The Prince the discussion of the methods, by which a "new prince" might consolidate his power, developed into a contribution towards a new conception of the State. The book not only furnished a summary of the means by which, in the circumstances then existing, the redemption of Italy might be accomplished; but, inasmuch as the conditions of life repeat themselves and the recurrence of similar crises in the future was always possible, recommendations, primarily directed to the solution of an immediately pressing difficulty, were enlarged in scope, and came to have the intention of supplying in some measure and with perhaps some minor reservations a law of political action in all times. Beneath the special rules and maxims new principles were latent, and, though obscured occasionally by the form in which they are expressed, they can be disengaged without serious difficulty.

Rome, the Romagna, and Lombardy are filled with these two classes of men. For this reason there has never been in those provinces any republic or free State; for such kinds of person are absolutely antagonistic to all civil government. The attempt to introduce a republic into countries so circumstanced would not be possible. In order to reorganise them-supposing any one had authority to do it-there would be no other way than to establish a monarchy; the reason being this: where the body of the people is so corrupt that the laws are unable to curb it, it is necessary to establish together with the laws a superior force, that is to say, the arm of a King (mano regia), which with absolute and overwhelming power may curb the overwhelming ambition and corruption of the nobles." A republic, therefore, cannot initiate a fundamental reform ; it is, moreover, too divided in counsel and too dilatory in action ; " supposing a republic had the same views and the same wishes as a prince, it will by reason of the slowness of its movements take longer to come to a decision than he." Hence the remedies which republics apply are doubly hazardous, when they have to deal with a crisis which cannot wait.

On these grounds Machiavelli, in pleading for the liberation of Italy from her " barbarian " invaders, addressed a prince; the work of regeneration could logically be entrusted only to an armed despot. It remained to investigate the methods to be employed, and to consider what manner of man the reformer should be. The general principle enforced was that all reform must be retrograde, in the sense that it must bring back the State to its original condition, restoring the old ^0o<; and looking for the ideal in the past. "It is a certain truth that all things in the world have a limit to their existence; but those run the full course that Heaven has in a general way assigned them, which do not disorder their constitution, but maintain it so ordered that it either does not alter, or, if it alters, the change is for its advantage, not to its detriment....Those alterations are salutary, which bring States back towards their first beginnings. Those States, consequently, are best-ordered and longest-lived, which by means of their institutions can be often renewed, or else, apart from their institutions, may be renewed by some accident. And it is clearer than the day that, if these bodies are not renewed, they will not last. The way to renew them is, as has been said, to bring them back to their beginnings, because all the beginnings of republics and kingdoms must contain in themselves some excellence, by means of which they obtain their first reputation and make their first growth. And as in the progress of time this excellence becomes corrupted, unless something intervenes which restores it to its primary condition, these bodies are necessarily destroyed."

Supposing any one prepared to accept this solution of the intellectual difficulties, it remained doubtful whether a man could be found with the practical ability and steadiness of nerve necessary to accomplish Machia-velli's design. He was sometimes sanguine, but at other times ready to despair. The condition of success would be thoroughness, and in the history of Rome he found evidences that men may, though rarely, avoid half-measures, and "have recourse to extremities." He knew that to halt between two opinions was always fatal, and that it was moreover not only undesirable, but impossible, to follow a middle course continuously. Unfortunately, human nature is apt to recoil from the extreme of evil and to fall short of the ideal of good; " men know not how to be gloriously wicked or perfectly good; and, when a crime has somewhat of grandeur and nobility in it, they flinch." Yet a great crisis often brings to the front a great man, and in 1513 Machiavelli believed the moment had come: " this opportunity must not be allowed to slip by, in order that Italy may at last see her redeemer appear." The right man was, he believed, a Medici, who, with far greater resources, might succeed where a Borgia had failed. His example was Cesare Borgia, who at the time had alone in any sort attempted the work of consolidation, and while shrinking from no convenient crime had damned himself intelligently.