Machiavellian Rhetoric in The Prince and the Mandragola

Read at SAMLA Convention, 5 November 1998

The Prince is generally regarded as a most serious book, not just because of its
content, but also because of its reputation. Speaking as it does about word-breaking
popes, criminal Roman emperors, and illustrious prospective saviors of Italy, it seems far
from the lighter side of life. However, an interested reader/spectator of Machiavelli's
comedy the Mandragola will have noticed the recurrence much of the terminology
employed in The Prince. In the following, I will briefly discuss some terms of The Prince
and apply them to Callimaco, the protagonist of the Mandragola. The vocabulary of The
Prince will allow us to leap from one genre to another, and not only will we see how
Callimaco is a good example of a prince, but also how Machiavelli's philosophical
terminology applies to comedy. This, in turn, will expose the rhetorical quality of the
language of The Prince.
In chapter 6 of The Prince, Machiavelli discusses princes who came to rule thanks to
their own powers. One such prince, who merits brief mention, is Moses. Machiavelli is
notably unclear about exactly what it was that made him a ruler, and doesn't say much
more than "[Moses] had such a good teacher." Later, when discussing ecclesiastical states
in chapter 11, Machiavelli expresses a certain modesty, which prevents him from entering
too deeply into a discussion on the nature of the power of ecclesiastical governments: "It
would be a rash and imprudent man who ventured to discuss them." This modesty needs
to be taken with a grain of salt, and he does indeed go on to discuss the history of the
papacy, treating popes much the same as other princes--in military and political,
temporal, terms. The only indication Machiavelli ever gives about the nature of power
sanctioned by God is in the brief comments on Moses: "[Moses] should still be admired,
if only for that special grace which made him worthy of talking with God." Whatever
power God had, whatever it was he transferred onto Moses, it was done verbally.
This attention to language is crucial. Much of the force of The Prince derives from a
single set of terms in The Prince: Fortuna and Virt. Virt is translated in many different
ways. "Power" or "strength of character" perhaps come closest, but other translations
abound: Virt can be the quality of a person's strength of body or mind, but it can also
refer to the spirit of a nation.
Fortuna, usually translated with "fortune" (or sometimes "luck"), is a term that
carries a heavy load of tradition, deriving mainly from Boethiuss The Consolation of
Philosophy. In chapter 25 of The Prince, Machiavelli slightly alters both denotation and
connotation of Fortuna. Rather than portraying Fortuna as a goddess who has complete
control over human affairs, he insists on joint control: "I think it may be true that Fortune
governs half more or less of our actions, but that even so she leaves the other half more or
less in our power to control." Machiavelli's Fortuna is a creator of opportunity, not just
the ruler of temporal affairs or the goddess of bad luck. In his letter to Vettori, 10
December 1513, he says:

And since Fortune wants to do everything, she wishes us to let her do it, to be quiet, and
not to give her trouble, and to wait for a time when she will allow something to be done
by men.

Fortune can leave room for men to act, if they treat her right: Fortune is a woman.
With this set of governing principles, Fortuna and Virt, Machiavelli gives us a way
of describing the world of human action that allows for freedom. Machiavelli himself, in
The Prince and The Discourses on Livy, read Roman, Italian, and European history in
these terms; let us turn to the world Machiavelli created in his Mandragola, to see if and
how these most serious terms apply to his comedy.
The Mandragola, a fast-paced and tightly constructed comedy, tells the story of a
young Florentine, Callimaco, who has fallen in love with a married woman, Lucrezia. In
the opening scene already, we see Fortuna at work explicitly. Callimaco describes to his
servant Siro why they moved from Paris to his native Florence: "But fortune, deeming no
doubt that things were going too well for me, saw to it that a certain Cammillo Calfucci
came to Paris." Calfucci told Callimaco of a woman, Lucrezia, so virtuous that Callimaco
is infatuated immediately, and cannot but return to Florence. It is worth noticing that
although the English translation has Callimaco use the adjective "virtuous" to describe
Lucrezia; the Italian text has "onestissima," "most honest." Her honesty may be her
virtue, but for Callimaco, her Virt is her beauty, her grace; the text does not give way
easily in translation and the similarities between Italian and English easily lead one
astray. In fact, Lucrezia's honesty is Callimaco's biggest problem--she is married to a
lawyer, Messer Nicia, and Callimaco will have to corrupt this honorable woman in order
to have her. To add to his problems, Lucrezia doesn't leave the house much. Morality
obviously doesnt really pertain: this is a comedy!
Machiavelli introduces the idea of Virt in the same scene, when Callimaco asserts
that, against the (perceived) odds, he will try to fulfill his desire:

Nothing is ever so desperate that there is no ground for hope. Even if the hope is vain
and foolish, a man's will and desire to achieve what he wants will make it seem not to be.
Illustrating the Machiavellian imperative of "do or die," this reminds us of the
penultimate chapter of The Prince, where Machiavelli explains how human affairs are
ruled by both Fortuna and Virt. If Fortune seems not to be favorable, a man has to create
his own destiny--if his Virt will let him. Machiavelli gives the example of Pope Julius II,
who "proceeded boldly" where all circumstances seemed to oppose him. Thus, our
character note for Callimaco will be this: will he have enough Virt to overcome

Lucrezia's virtue, and anything else that Fortuna may throw at him? On a more practical
note: will he even get to see her?
This brings us to another notion used in The Prince, that of Occasione, opportunity.
That this concept is quite important to Machiavelli is attested to also by his re-writing of
an epigram by Ausonius, in which Machiavelli depicts opportunity as a woman, who is
always on the move, and hard to catch:

And you who stand here talking, you who dote

On idle chatter, while the hour lingers,
Wise up a bit, you klutz, you've missed the boat,
And I've already slipped between your fingers!
("On Occasion," ll. 19-22)
In the final chapter of The Prince, Machiavelli addresses the importance of Occasione,
exclaiming that the time is ripe for a prince to stand up and deliver Italy from the
barbarians. He also remarks on how an Occasione, and the more difficult the better, can
bring out a character's Virt: ". . . if . . . it was necessary, to bring out the power [virt] of
Moses, that the children of Israel should be slaves in Egypt . . ." In the Mandragola, this
is the very first difficulty, since Lucrezia sees few people and rarely leaves the house. An
Occasione needs to be created. Fortunately, Callimaco has the support of an important
character to any Prince: a private counselor. In the corrupted world of comedy, the role of
the private counselor is appropriately played by a stock character, the parasite, Ligurio. I
will return to Ligurio later on.
The way to Lucrezia goes through her husband Nicia, and Nicia's weakness is his
desire to have children. Naturally, he blames his wife's sterility; any suggestion of
impotence is hastily denied. Callimaco is to pose as a doctor who can help out in this
delicate matter. In order to pull this off, Ligurio and Callimaco take The Prince's advice:
appearance is sometimes more important than reality, and sometimes one must use
rhetoric creatively, I mean lie. This begs the question of morality, in politics as well as in
comedy. Let us briefly examine the morality of comedy.
To the charge that the Mandragola proves once again that Machiavelli is immoral,
and advocates that "the end justifies the means," we may say the following. The moral
world of comedy is upside-down in a somewhat paradoxical manner: some vices are
virtues, but other vices remain vices--depending on whose character's they are. The bad
guy always remains the bad guy; his vices always remain vices. In other words, Nicia,
who is possessive, vulgar, and corrupt, deserves to be cheated, while Callimaco, who is a
good man, if infatuated (comedy always favors the lover), will be allowed to be corrupt,
to lie, to cheat. We may also remind ourselves that we, the audience, are no better: when
we root for Callimaco, we are drawn into the play of corruption our hero and his parasite
have set up; we are accomplices. In the world of comedy, adultery is good, if the husband
is bad or foolish enough. Fortunately, Nicia is both.

Today, people are convinced they are listening to a doctor if the guy wears a lab
coat. Before the invention of the pharmaceutical industry, a patient's need to see a
doctor's credentials was satisfied by having the supposed doctor speak Latin--in the
Mandragola anyway. Callimaco, who is educated, manages to impress Nicia with some
Latin phrases. Nicia is all the more taken in, because his recognition of Callimaco's
credentials establishes also that he is qualified to judge such credentials. This type of
make-believe is seen by Machiavelli as crucial to a new prince, whose safety may depend
on assuming the status of an old prince. In chapter 24, he says: "The precepts given above
[on personal counselors and flatterers], if properly observed, will help a new prince
appear like an old one." And earlier in The Prince, Machiavelli has stressed reputation as
imperative, in chapter 21: "It should be a prince's major concern in everything he does to
give the impression of being a great man and of possessing excellent insight." Callimaco
pulls it off, and through his use of language successfully impresses Nicia as an expert:

CALLIMACO: In order to gratify your desire, I have to know the cause of your wife's
sterility. There are several possible causes. Nam causae sterilitatis sunt: aut in semine, aut
in matrice, aut in instrumentis seminariis, aut in virga, aut in causa extrinseca.
NICIA (aside): This is the most worthy man I have ever met!
Actually, Callimaco combines the use of Latin with the charge of impotence, and this
double strategy proves very convincing:
CALLIMACO: Aside from these causes, this sterility might be occasioned by your
impotence. If that were the case, I have no remedy for you.
NICIA: Me impotent!? Why, you're making me laugh! I'm as tough as nails!
Of course, impotence was already mentioned in Latin ("semine and instrumentis
seminariis"), and Nicia gives himself away as an ignoramus. As if this wasnt enough,
Callimaco holds another Machiavellian trick up his sleeve: the exemplum.
Act II of the Mandragola features what we see all throughout The Prince: the use of
the example, of experience. In the dedication to Lorenzo de Medici, Machiavelli speaks
of his "knowledge of the actions of great men, acquired through long experience of
contemporary affairs and extended reading in antiquity." The "extended reading" doesn't
figure heavily in the Mandragola (after all, it's a play), although Callimaco's knowledge
of Latin is an indication that reading plays its part in the background, and surely works as
such on Nicia. But "knowledge of . . . great men, acquired through long experience of
contemporary affairs" plays an explicit part in gaining Nicia's trust:

CALLIMACO: You must understand this: there is nothing more certain to make a
woman conceive than to give her a potion made with mandrake root. That is something I
have tested half a dozen times, and always found true. If it were not for that, the Queen of
France and countless other Princesses of that realm would be barren.
NICIA: You don't say!
Callimaco's use of the "famous example" establishes his authority, and a little later on
Nicia himself actually uses the supposed authority of the exemplum as a condition to
convince himself, after Callimaco explains the catch: the first one to sleep with Lucrezia
after she takes the potion will die. Callimaco comes up with a magnificent plan:
CALLIMACO: The first young scamp we find strolling about, we'll gag him and march
him back to your house. We'll take him up the stairs in the dark, then put him in bed, tell
him what he has to do, and he won't make any trouble, I'm sure. Tomorrow morning, you
throw him out before daybreak, get your wife cleaned up, and you can stay with her at
your leisure and without any danger.
NICIA: It's all right with me, as long as you say that kings and princes and noblemen
have done it that way.
Nicia's immediate agreement to what would be premeditated murder is the final drop: he
deserves to be cuckolded, and of course he will. He is won; the new prince is ready to
take over the dominion.
In this brief overview of the first two acts of the Mandragola, we have seen how one
of Machiavelli's preoccupations, language, serves an important function; we have seen
how the exemplum, part of the raison d'etre of The Prince, is employed in the actual
rhetorical moves in the Mandragola; and we have been reminded of the most important
terms used in The Prince: Fortuna, Virt, Occasione. That Machiavelli uses these various
notions and moves in a comedy needn't surprise us, considering how important they are
in his other works. But the appropriateness of these Machiavellian notions in a dramatic
context seems serendipitous. Why are Fortuna, Virt, and Occasione so applicable? What
does The Prince have to do with the Mandragola?
Partly, the semantics of The Prince, the field of reference of Machiavelli's almost
poetic rhetoric, connect the drama to the political tract. The description of Fortuna as a
"ruinous river" in chapter 25 is only one example of how the semantic field of The Prince
is one of action, of the here and now, of force: "Fortune is a woman, and the man who
wants to hold her down must beat and bully her." Similarly, to act now is at stake in the
urgency of the exhortation, because the opportunity for the rescue of Italy will not wait
on a prince. This semantic field, I would propose, is appropriate for drama. After all, what
is a theatrical performance but an action in the here and now, and gone in a few hours?
When Machiavelli discusses Julius II and praises him for being impetuous, he might as
well have praised a dramatic actor, a hero, stubbornly refusing to give in, and determined
to make his mark in the world--if only on his neighbor's wife. Machiavelli's strategy in

The Prince is to establish the validity of his general remarks and principles using
examples from history, recounting brief episodes that prove his point. This focus on
individual action, individual history, transfers easily to the theater, which has room for
big stories insofar as they can be "individualized," made into one concise dramatization
for an audience.
Whether Callimaco is the ultimate prince of comedy remains to be seen. While he
does create his Occasione, possesses enough Virt to carry the day, and certainly has
what it takes to convince Lucrezia that his offer is a good one, we should not forget that
he owes his success to a great extent to his parasite, Ligurio. But then, as Machiavelli
says in The Prince, "the first notion one gets of a prince's intelligence comes from the
men around him; when they are able and loyal, you may be sure he is wise." So, we shall
leave some room on the stage for the secretario, and a good secretario is always
functional, doing whatever is necessary to benefit his employer, his native city, his
country: again The Prince enlightens the Mandragola.
The rhetoric that Machiavelli uses in The Prince is impressive, and has proven very
convincing, even after almost five centuries. But if we aren't aware that, in the end, it is
rhetoric, we may fall for any of Machiavelli's rhetorical traps the way Nicia falls for
Callimaco's. For Callimaco proves that Fortuna and Occasione can be created, out of
nothing, so to speak. Continuing a previously quoted passage from Act II, Scene 6:

NICIA: You don't say!

CALLIMACO: It is exactly as I have told you. And it just so happens, by a stroke of
good fortune, that I have brought with me all the ingredients which go into this potion, so
now you can have it, too.
NICIA: When would she have to take it?
CALLIMACO: This evening, after supper. According to the moon, this is just the right
time of the month. We couldn't choose a better moment.
Callimaco's "good fortune" is set up, and the perfect occasion is an undefined, fictitious
time of the month. But as Nicia buys into it, it all comes true, like a self-fulfilling
prophecy: like crying PANIC! in a department store. Callimaco's rhetoric is that of a conman, and we, the audience, buy into it. We have to, we can't walk away. Suspending our
disbelief creates not only the fiction that this is the right time, but also the ensuing
urgency and suspense. And if we then reflect on The Prince, we may ask ourselves what
exactly causes the urgency of the exhortation: Italy's political and historical situation, or
Machiavelli's rhetoric?
Language does more than filter reality; it constitutes reality, or re-constitutes it, as
the example of Moses, armed with the word of God, makes clear. In The Prince,
Machiavelli uses impressive terminology and rhetorical strategies for the worthiest of

causes: the unification of Italy. In the Mandragola, the same terminology and strategies
serve a quite different purpose--tricking a lawyer and seducing his wife. The Mandragola
shows us that the argument of The Prince is a rhetorical one, and that the rhetoric itself is
a tool for making reality rather than a means for getting at some truth about a pre-existing
reality. Perhaps it even shows that corruption and nobility are matters of perspective, not
inherently different. A prince is, on the whole, likely to have different objectives than a
randy young Florentine, but they may well use the same methods of satisfying their
desire.
Copyright Michel Aaij, 1998

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Works cited
Machiavelli, Niccolo. The Mandrake. In: The Comedies of Machiavelli. Ed., trans.,
David Sices and James B. Atkinson. Hanover: UP of New England, 1985.
Machiavelli, Niccolo. The Prince. 2nd ed. Ed., trans. Robert M. Adams. New York:
Norton, 1992.
Machiavelli, Niccolo. "On Occasion." In The Prince, 134-35.
Machiavelli, Niccolo. "To Francesco Vettori." 10 December 1513. In The Prince, 126-29.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------