Niccolò Machiavelli (1469 1527) |
This letter, one
of the most celebrated in all Italian
literature, represents Machiavelli at his finest. It was written on 10 December 1513 to
Francesco Vettori, a friend of Machiavellis
who was then the Florentine ambassador in Rome. At the time Machiavelli was exiled
to his country home in Percussina, south of Florence. He had recently been suspected of
conspiracy against the Medici family, who had been restored to power after the republican
regime under Piero Soderini fell in 1512, and was arrested,
imprisoned, tortured, and then finally released. While in exile Machiavelli wrote The Prince and began to write his other famous treaty on
politics and government, The Discourses on Livy. He wrote this letter in response to a letter from
Vettori, in which the latter described a day in his own life as ambassador in Rome. (Click here for Vettoris letter.) Machiavelli is
clearly parodying Vettori in this letter, but he also gives us a glimpse of the political
philosopher at work. He tells us how he discoursed with the ancients who provided him with
the food that alone is mine and that I was born for. Compare this letter with
Machiavellis Dedicatory letter to The Prince.
NICCOLO
MACHIAVELLI TO FRANCESCO VETTORI,
FLORENCE,
DECEMBER 10, 1513.
Magnificent ambassador:
Never were divine favors
late. I say this because I appear to have lost, no, mislaid your favor,
since you have gone a long time without writing me, and I was doubtful whence the cause
could arise. And of all those that came to my mind I took little account except for one,
when I feared you had stopped writing to me because someone had written to you that I was
not a good warden of your letters; and I knew that, apart from Filippo and Pagolo, no one
else had seen them on account of me. I regained your favor by your last letter of the 23rd
of last month, where I was very pleased to see how orderedly and quietly you exercise this
public office; and I urge you to continue so, for whoever lets go of his own convenience
for the convenience of others, only loses his own and gets no thanks from them. And
because Fortune wants to do everything, she wants us to allow her to do it, to remain
quiet and not give trouble, and to await the time at which she allows men something to do;
and then it will be right for you to give more effort, to watch things more, and for me to
leave my villa and say: Here I am. Therefore, wishing to return equal favors,
I cannot tell you in this letter of mine anything other than what my life is like, and if
you judge that it should be bartered for yours, I will be content to exchange it.
I stay in my villa, and since these
last chance events occurred, I have not spent, to add them all up, twenty days
in Florence. Until now I have been catching thrushes with my own hands. I would get up
before day, prepare traps, and go out with a bundle of cages on my back, so that I looked
like Geta when he returned from the harbor with Amphitryons books; I caught at least
two, at most six thrushes. And so passed all September; then this pastime, though annoying
and strange, gave out, to my displeasure. And what my life is like, I will tell you. I get
up in the morning with the sun and go to a wood of mine that I am having cut down, where I
stay for two hours to look over the work of the past day, and to pass time with the
woodcutters, who always have some disaster on their hands either among themselves or
with their neighbors. And regarding this wood I would have a thousand beautiful things to
tell you of what happened to me with Frosino da Panzano and others who want wood from it.
And Frosino in particular sent for a number of loads without telling me anything, and on
payment wanted to hold back ten lire from me, which he said he should have had from me
four years ago when he beat me at cricca at Antonio Guicciardinis. I began
to raise the devil and was on the point of accusing the driver who had gone for it of
theft; but Giovanni Machiavelli came between us and brought us to agree. Batista
Guicciardini, Filippo Ginori, Tommaso del Bene, and some other citizens, when that north
wind was blowing ordered a load each from me. I promised to all, and sent one to Tommaso
which in Florence turned into a half-load because to stack it up there were himself, his
wife, his servant, and his children, so that they looked like Gabbura with his boys when
he bludgeons an ox on Thursday So when I saw whose profit it was, I told the others I had
no more wood; and all have made a big point of it, especially Batista, who counts this
among the other disasters of Prato.
When I leave the wood, I go to a
spring, and from there to an aviary of mine. I have a book under my arm, Dante or
Petrarch, or one of the minor poets like Tibullus, Ovid, and such. I read of their amorous
passions and their loves; I remember my own and enjoy myself for a while in this thinking.
Then I move on along the road to the inn; I speak with those passing by; I ask them news
of their places; I learn various things; and I note the various tastes and different
fancies of men. In the meantime conies the hour to dine, when I eat with my company what
food this poor villa and tiny patrimony allow Having eaten, I return to the inn; there is
the host, ordinarily a butcher, a miller, two bakers. With them I become a rascal for the
whole day, playing at cricca and tric-trac, from which arise a thousand
quarrels and countless abuses with insulting words, and most times we are fighting over a
penny and yet we can be heard shouting from San Casciano. Thus involved with these vermin
I scrape the mold off my brain and I satisfy the malignity of this fate of mine, as I am
content to be trampled on this path so as to see if she will be ashamed of it.
When evening has come, I return to
my house and go into my study. At the door I take off my clothes of the day, covered with
mud and mire, and I put on my regal and courtly garments; and decently reclothed, I enter
the ancient courts of ancient men, where, received by them lovingly, I feed on the food
that alone is mine and that I was born for. There I am not ashamed to speak with them and
to ask them the reason for their actions; and they in their humanity reply to me. And for
the space of four hours I feel no boredom, I forget every pain, I do not fear poverty,
death does not frighten me. I deliver myself entirely to them. And because Dante says that
to have understood without retaining does not make knowledge, I have noted
what capital I have made from their conversation and have composed a little work De
Principatibus [On Principalities], where I delve as deeply as I can into reflections
on this subject, debating what a principality is, of what kinds they are, how they are
acquired, how they are maintained, why they are lost. And if you have ever been pleased by
any of my whimsies, this one should not displease you; and to a prince, and especially to
a new prince, it should be welcome. So I am addressing it to his Magnificence, Giuliano.
Filippo Casavecchia has seen it; he can give you an account in part both of the thing in
itself and of the discussions I had with him, although I am all the time fattening and
polishing it.
You wish, magnificent ambassador,
that I leave this life and come to enjoy your life with you. I will do it in any case, but
what tempts me now is certain dealings of mine which I will have done in six weeks. What
makes me be doubtful is that the Soderini are there, whom I would be forced, if I came, to
visit and speak with. I should fear that at my return I would not expect to get off at my
house, but I would get off at the Bargello, for although this state has very great
foundations and great security, yet it is new, and because of this suspicious; nor does it
lack wiseacres who, to appear like Pagolo Bertii, would let others run up a bill and leave
me to think of paying. I beg you to relieve me of this fear, and then I will come in the
time stated to meet you anyway.
I have discussed with Filippo this
little work of mine, whether to give it to him or not; and if it is good to
give it, whether it would be good for me to take it or send it to you. Not giving it would
make me fear that at the least it would not be read by Giuliano and that this Ardinghelli
would take for himself the honor of this latest effort of mine. The necessity that
chases me makes me give it, because I am becoming worn out, and I cannot remain as I am
for a long time without becoming despised because of poverty, besides the desire I have
that these Medici lords begin to make use of me even if they should begin by making me
roll a stone. For if I should not then win them over to me, I should complain of myself;
and through this thing, if it were read, one would see that I have neither slept through
nor played away the fifteen years I have been at the study of the art of the state. And
anyone should be glad to have the service of one who is full of experience at the expense
of another. And one should not doubt my faith, because having always observed faith, I
ought not now be learning to break it. Whoever has been faithful and good for forty-three
years, as I have, ought not to be able to change his nature, and of my faith and goodness
my poverty is witness.
I should like, then, for you to
write me again on how this matter appears to you, and I commend myself to you.
Be prosperous.
10 December 1513
Niccolo Machiavelli, in Florence.
Translated by Harvey C. Mansfield, in The Prince, 2nd ed. (Chicago, 1998).