Machiavelli: A Renaissance Life

617 Pages·2013·3.53 MB·English

by  Joseph Markulin

Published 2013 by Prometheus Books
Machiavelli: A Renaissance Life. Copyright © 2013 by Joseph Markulin. All rights reserved. No part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via
the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Upper cover image: detail of Niccolò Machiavelli or Portrait of Machiavelli,
by Santi di Tito, oil on canvas dated to the second half of the sixteenth century Lower cover image: The
Piazza della Signoria in Florence, by Bernardo Bellotto,
ca. 1742, located at Szépmüvészeti Múzeum, Budapest, Hungary Cover design by Jacqueline Nasso Cooke
Inquiries should be addressed to Prometheus Books
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows: Markulin, Joseph.
Machiavelli : a renaissance life / Joseph Markulin.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-61614-805-8 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-1-61614-806-5 (ebook)
1. Machiavelli, Niccol?, 1469-1527. 2. Statesmen--Italy--Biography. 3. Intellectuals--Italy--
Biography. 4. Political scientists--Italy--Biography. 5. Authors, Italian--Biography. 6. Italy--
History--1492-1559--Biography. 7. Florence (Italy)--History--1421-1737--Biography. I. Title.
JC143.M4M3785 2013
320.1092--dc23
2013022352
Printed in the United States of America
For Sandy, a shooting star . . .
Prologue Ending in an Execution: May 23, 1498
PART 1: A BOYHOOD AT THE SUMMIT OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION
1. Carp, Artichokes, Black Beans, White Beans
2. The Devil’s Ass—and the Angel’s Thousand Black Teeth
3. An Ambush and an Apparition
4. The Archbishop of Outlaws
5. The Jewess
6. In the Ghetto
7. A Witch Hunt
8. A Guide for the Perplexed
9. The Handkerchief
PART 2: THE PROPHET
10. Balls! Balls! Balls!
11. At the Tyrant’s Deathbed
12. Tavern Talk, Then Church and an Arresting Sermon
13. Revolution in the Streets, Politics in the Monastery
14. A Mysterious Frenchman and a Dental Procedure
15. Son of the Spider
16. Amazon on the Ramparts
17. The Bombardiers
18. A Miraculous Delivery
19. The City of God on Earth
20. The Prophet Dishonored and a Final Interview
PART 3: THE ANTICHRIST AND HIS EXTENDED FAMILY
21. The New Pope Enjoys Bullfights
22. An Embassy to the Amazon Queen
23. All Hail Caesar!
24. The Subtleties of Spanish Hospitality
25. The Third Marriage of the Whore of Babylon
26. A Honeymoon of Sorts: Caviar and Conspiracy
27. Niccolo Meets a Famous Artist and Caesar Arranges a Peace
Conference
28. Into the Sink of Iniquity
29. The Hospital for Incurable Diseases
30. A Voyage to the New World and Last Respects to a Departed Pontiff
31. Two More Popes, Another Famous Artist, and a Recumbent Caesar
PART 4: LESSONS IN CIVIL GOVERNMENT
32. The War with Pisa 1: Scientific Advances
33. Clogs
34. The Black Death Spawns a Family Fortune; Niccolo Goes to Germany
and Suffers Abdominal Pains
35. The War with Pisa 2: Corruption in High Places
36. Politics, Compromise, and Revenge
37. A Dinner Party
38. Confusing News from Rome
39. The War with Pisa 3: Conclusion
40. An Anonymous Denunciation, a Pope Rampant, and a Rat King
41. The Gonfaloniere Abdicates, Eggs and Pudding Are Consumed
42. Boiling Lead
PART 5: WHEEL OF FORTUNE
43. A Lean Christmas and a Fat New Pope
44. A Perfumed Progress and the Garden of Earthly Delights
45. A Person on His Way Up: Niccolo Gathers Disciples
46. Enthroned in a Privy, Niccolo Receives Important Messages; A
Dutchman Is Elected Pope
47. Amid the Clamor of Lutherans, Niccolo Visits the Little Sparrow in
Florence and Sees a Startling Cartoon in Rome
48. An Artist’s Model, a Lottery Ticket, and Big, Blue Pills
49. Liqueur for a Lickspittle
50. The Ragtag Armies of the Apocalypse and the Regeneration of Florence
Ercole d’Este was so filled with awe at the sound of his own name that he often
choked with emotion when called upon to pronounce it. Not that he was an
excessively vain man. Rather, it was an inordinate pride in his ancestry that
caused him to treat his name with a respect bordering on veneration.
The Este family had ruled Ferrara for over two centuries, and for the most
part, they had ruled it wisely, promoting the general welfare by developing
industry and agriculture, building broad roads, and straightening streets. They
had supported the fledgling university and had persuaded the eminent Greek
scholar Guarino da Verona to come there and lecture. They had built a public
park within the narrow confines of the city walls, a thing unheard of at the time.
And, of course, most importantly, they had strengthened the city’s fortifications.
Ferrara was a small state but a rich one, and like all the other city-states of
northern Italy, she was constantly at war. Political turbulence had become a way
of life for the dozens of arrogant dukes who were incessantly attacking or being
attacked, marching off to battle or waiting out sieges in their impregnable
fortresses. Ferrara, by comparison, was at peace more often than many of the
others. The Este, through the judicious use of marriage bonds and the skillful
weaving of secret alliances, had brought calm and relative stability to the city.
Ercole (Hercules) d’Este managed his affairs well. He had to, for he literally
owned the realm, and his prosperity, not to say survival, depended on it. He
owned the land and all its bounty; he owned the grain and the vines; he owned
the river and the fish in the river; he owned the mines, the mills, and the cattle;
and last, he owned the people. He had complete authority to do anything he
wished. His power was absolute. He could make laws or dissolve them. He could
promote interests friendly to himself and his family, and he could kill his
enemies with impunity. He reserved the right to impose taxes, to punish crimes,
and to declare war. But as tyrants go, Ercole was one of the less abusive ones,
and he retained the love and respect of his subjects.
Attached to the court of the Este family was an illustrious physician by the
name of Savonarola. Although originally from Padua, Savonarola had secured
his post in Ferrara on the basis of his reputation as a world-famous authority on
the curative properties of spas and mineral waters. But more than that, he was a
staunch proponent of the beneficial effects of alcohol, which he was always
quick to prescribe for any illness. He maintained that it fortified the blood,
revived the heart, dissipated superfluous body fluids, prevented fevers, and aided
the digestion. If taken in sufficient quantities, it also cured colic, dropsy,
paralysis, worms, and scurvy. It calmed toothaches, gave protection against the
plague, and drove away wind. In alcohol, the physician Savonarola had found
his panacea, and his prescriptions were eagerly received by the Este and their
court. His position was secure, and he was much sought out as an eminent man
of science. Upon retirement, his duties passed to his son, who faithfully
executed, in every detail, the precepts and traditions of the father.
When Girolamo Savonarola was a boy, it was decided that he, too, like his
father and his grandfather before him, would study medicine in order to assume
his rightful post as third-generation court physician. But the boy was ill-suited to
the role. From the way his father talked, young Girolamo had the distinct
impression that the court physician had been engaged more as a tavern keeper
than as a doctor. Medicine as practiced by the Savonarolas was as much a matter
of dispensing cheer and goodwill as anything else.
Unlike his bibulous progenitors, Girolamo was a gloomy, introspective child.
Physically, he was small, ugly, and clumsy. He was pale and withdrawn, and he
cared little for the company of other children. He preferred to be alone, and the
thing that seemed to give him the most pleasure in life was his lute. He would
play for hours sad, plaintive melodies that he composed himself. And he would
compose verses, too, and set them to music.
Although he showed no particular interest in the study of medicine, he
mastered his lessons easily. And, while outwardly he appeared dazed and
inattentive, it soon became clear to his teachers that he was possessed of a
brilliant mind. Brilliant but restless and nervous. He would dispense with his
medical texts and required lessons in short order and then withdraw to the
solitude of his room, to his music, to his poetry, and to the one book that brought
him solace—the sacred scriptures. He read the prophets avidly—Jeremiah in
particular. But the text that he had read and reread perhaps a hundred times and
of which he never tired, what sparked his mind and fired his imagination, was
the Book of the Apocalypse.
At the age of sixteen, his studies were progressing satisfactorily, and the elder
Savonarola decided it was time for his son to be introduced to the court and its
pleasures, so that he could begin his practical training for the profitable position
that awaited him. The pompous doctor exploded when he saw his son bundled
for the august occasion into his usual plain clothes—a simple grey frock with
wool stockings.
“You expect to go to court dressed like that! The Duke will laugh at you!
They’ll mistake you for a lout, for a stable boy! You! A Savonarola! Who would
ever believe it?”
He had the boy’s mother comb and curl his long black hair. He gave him a
velvet cap to wear and insisted that he gird himself with a leather belt from
which hung a small, sharp, useless dagger with a jeweled handle. This hastily
created courtier, feeling slightly ridiculous, examined himself in the polished tin
mirror. He had no choice now but to step out into the cool autumn air, with his
new accoutrements, and walk, almost run, through the streets of Ferrara, to keep
up with the strides of his energetic father, the great physician swathed in scarlet
and silver. Gawky, timid Girolamo Savonarola was on his way to the rich,
exciting life that would soon be his.
When they arrived at the ducal palace, the court physician and his young
charge were greeted with much merriment, and many cups were raised. Duke
Ercole himself, dressed as a soldier, although he seldom ventured forth on any
military expedition, welcomed the boy and wished him every success. To say
that the young Savonarola was dazzled would be an understatement. Never had
he seen such a brightly illuminated hall. In the Savonarolas’ modest apartments
and in most of the dwellings of Ferrara, evening was a time of soft light, the
orange glow of fires and candles. But the Este palace, even at night, was ablaze.
The enormous hall was lit by magnificent chandeliers, candles, and lanterns by
the thousands, and huge roaring fires to which alum had been added to make
them burn a brilliant white. And everywhere the unbelievable shower of light
fell, it glanced back, flashing from gold and silver like lightning.
The profusion of silks and furs, lace, leather, and polished armor stupefied the
boy. And blonds! He had never seen so many blonds in his life. “Is every woman
at the court of Ferrara blond?” he thought. “Is that what separates the nobility
from us?” Later he was to learn that these exquisite waves of blond hair were
fashioned for the most part, of yellow silk. A few of the billowing coiffures, like
that of the duchess, were made of real human hair, brought down from Germany
in the north, they say, imported at an extravagant price, or, according to darker
rumors, taken in battle.
When the meal was served, the boy’s stupor only grew: countless birds and
meats that he could not even identify, exotic vegetables that the duke grew on his
estates, like the bulbous white eggplant he had had brought from Africa. Others
came from the Levant and the Far East, along with spices that overwhelmed the
palate.