Then and Now (13 page)

'Perhaps it would be better if Your Excellency were more explicit.'

'Very well. I desire you to write to your masters that it may very well be that the King of France will order them to restore to me the
condotta
which they withdrew without rhyme or reason and they will be obliged to obey. It is surely better for them to do this willingly than by compulsion.'

Machiavelli paused to collect himself. He knew that every word he said was fraught with danger. When he spoke it was in as ingratiating a manner as he could assume.

'Your Excellency acts with prudence in assembling his forces and making friends; but so far as the
condotta
is concerned, Your Excellency can't be classed with hireling captains who have nothing but themselves and a few troops to sell. Your Excellency is one of the powers of Italy, and it would be more suitable to make an alliance with you than to engage you as a mercenary.'

'I should look upon such an engagement as an honour,' the Duke answered suavely. 'Come now, Secretary, surely we can arrange something that will be to our common advantage. I am a professional soldier, bound to your state by ties of friendship; it is a slight your masters put upon me in refusing my request. I don't believe that I'm mistaken in thinking that I could serve them as well as anyone else.'

'I venture to point out that there would be no great safety for my government when three-quarters of its troops were in the hands of Your Excellency.'

'Does that mean that you doubt my good faith?'

'Not at all,' said Machiavelli with a fervour he was far from feeling. 'But my masters are prudent and they must be circumspect. They cannot afford to take a step which they might have reason to regret. Their chief desire is to be at peace with all men.'

'You are too intelligent not to know, Secretary, that the only way to assure peace is to be prepared for war.'

'I have no doubt that my government will take such steps as they deem necessary.'

'By taking other captains into their service?' the Duke asked sharply.

This was the opportunity Machiavelli had been looking for. He knew that Il Valentino was subject to sudden attacks of rage, and having vented it would scornfully dismiss the object of wrath. Machiavelli was too eager to get away to care if he angered him.

'I have every reason to believe that such are its intentions.'

To his astonishment the Duke laughed. He rose from his chair and stood with his back to the fire. He answered with complete good humour.

'Are they under the impression that it is possible to remain neutral in the unsettled conditions that now prevail? Surely they have more sense. When two neighbouring states go to war, the one that has counted on your help because of its intimate relations with you will consider you under an obligation to share its fortunes, and when you fail to do so, will bear you a grudge: the other will despise you for your timidity and lack of spirit. To the one side you are a useless friend and to the other an enemy little to be feared.

'The neutral is in such a position that he can help one party or the other; and in the end he is forced into such a situation that he is obliged against his will to join in the fray which he was unwilling at the beginning to enter boldly and with a good grace. Believe me, it is always wiser to take one side or the other without hesitation, for one or the other of them will be victorious and then you will fall prey to the winner. For who will come to your rescue? You can give no reason why anyone should protect you and will find no one to do it. The victor has no use for friends he can't trust, and the vanquished will do nothing for you, even if he could, because you wouldn't come to his help when your forces might have saved him.'

Machiavelli had no wish at the moment to listen to a disquisition on neutrality and he only hoped that by then the Duke had said his say. But he hadn't.

'Whatever the risks of war, the risks of neutrality are greater. It renders you an object of hatred and contempt, and sooner or later you will fall victim to the first person who thinks it worth his while to destroy you. If on the other hand you come out vigorously on one side and that side wins, even though its power is so great that you may have cause to fear it, you have put it under an obligation and attached it to yourself by bonds of friendship.'

'And it is Your Excellency's experience that men's gratitude for past benefits is so considerable that they will hesitate to exercise their power at your expense?'

'Victories are never so decisive that the victor can afford to alienate his friends. It is to his best interest to treat them with justice.'

'And supposing the side you have taken loses?'

'Then you are all the more valuable to your ally. He helps you to the best of his ability and you are the companion of fortunes that may rise again. So, whichever way you look at it, neutrality is folly. That is all I have to say to you. You will be wise to repeat to your masters the little lesson in statemanship that I have thought well to give you.'

With these words the Duke sank into a chair and held out his hand to the blazing fire. Machiavelli, bowing, was about to withdraw when the Duke turned to Agap-ito da Amalia.

'Have you told the Secretary that his friend Buonarotti is delayed in Florence and will not be arriving for some time?'

Agapito shook his head.

'I know no such person, Excellency,' said Machiavelli.

'Surely. The sculptor.'

The Duke was looking at him with smiling eyes and Machiavelli on a sudden guessed of whom he was speaking. He had written to his friend Biagio for money and had received an answer from him to say that he was sending it by Michelangelo, a sculptor. The name meant nothing to him. But the Duke's remark suggested that his effects had been searched, evidently with the connivance of Serafina, and he congratulated himself on having put his important correspondence in a safe place; he had kept in his lodging only papers of little consequence, but among them was Biagio's letter.

'There are many stone-cutters in Florence, Excellency,' he said coolly. 'I cannot be expected to know them all.'

'This Michelangelo is not without talent. He made a Cupid in marble and buried it in the ground so that when it was dug up it was taken for an antique. Cardinal di San Giorgio bought it, but when he discovered the fraud returned it to the dealer and in the end it came into my hands. I have sent it as a present to the Marchioness of Mantua.'

Il Valentino spoke in a jesting way and Machiavelli for a reason obscure to him received the impression that he was being made a fool of. He had the irascibility of the highly sensitive man he was, and his impatience overcame him. He was quite willing to affront the Duke if only he could secure his freedom to keep his appointment.

'And does Your Excellency propose to order from him a statue to rival the one Leonardo made for the Duke of Milan?'

The shaft quivered through the air, and the secretaries, startled, glanced at the Duke to see how he would take it. The great equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza, thought by many to be Leonardo's masterpiece, had been destroyed by the soldiery when Marshal Trevulzio captured the city; and Francesco's son, Lodovico il Moro, who had commissioned it, a usurper like Caesar Borgia himself, driven from his city, was now a prisoner in the castle of Loches. Machiavelli's remark was well designed to remind Il Valentino how dangerous his position was and to what depths he might fall if his good fortune deserted him. The Duke laughed.

'No, I have more important work for this fellow Michelangelo to do than to make statues. The defences of this city are useless and I'm going to let him draw plans for its fortification. But you were speaking of Leonardo; I should like to show you some drawings he has made of me.'

He made a sign to one of the secretaries who left the room and soon returned with a portfolio which he handed to the Duke. He showed the drawings to Machia-velli one after the other.

'Unless you had told me they were portraits of Your Excellency I should never have known it,' said he.

'Poor Leonardo, he has no great gift for catching a likeness. But as drawings I am assured they are not without merit.'

'That may be, but I think it a pity that with his gifts he should waste his time painting pictures and making statues.'

'I can assure you that he will not do so while he is in my service. I sent him to Piombino to drain the marshes and lately he has been at Cesena and Cesenatico to cut a canal and make a harbour.'

He handed the drawings back to the secretary, and with a graciousness which Machiavelli noted acidly was no less regal than that of the King of France, dismissed him. Agapito da Amalia accompanied him out of the Duke's study. During the month he had been at Imola Machiavelli had taken pains to gain the Chief Secretary's confidence. He was related to the great Roman family of the Colonna, the bitter rivals of the Orsini, and so might be supposed to have a certain friendliness for the Florentines whose enemies they were. From time to time he had given Machiavelli information which he accepted as true or false according to his judgment of its likelihood. As now they passed through the presence chamber which was used on ceremonial occasions he took Machiavelli's arm and said:

'Come into my room. I have something to show you that will interest you.'

'It is late and I am sick. I will come tomorrow.'

'As you will. I wanted to show you the articles of agreement between the Duke and the rebels.'

Machiavelli's heart stood still. He knew that the document had arrived at Imola and he had in vain used every method he could think of to get a sight of it. It was of extreme importance to the Signory to know what the terms of the pact were, and they had written to complain of his negligence. It was useless for him to tell them that he sent them all the facts as he discovered them, but that in the Duke's court secrets were well kept and none knew what the Duke meant to do until he did it. At that moment a clock struck: he had kept Aurelia waiting for two hours. The fish fry would be ruined and the fat capons roasted to a cinder, and he was hungry, for he had eaten nothing since before noon. It was said that love and hunger were the two most deep-rooted instincts of man, and who could be blamed for yielding to them? Machiavelli sighed: the safety of Florence was at stake; her liberty in danger.

'Come then,' he said.

He thought bitterly that never had a man been called upon to sacrifice so much for the good of his country.

Agapito led him up a flight of stairs, unlocked a door, and ushered him into a small room, with a bed along one wall, which was dimly lit by the flame of an oil lamp. From it he lit a tallow candle and offered Machiavelli a chair, then he sat down himself, at a table littered with papers, and leaning back, crossed his legs comfortably. He had the appearance of a man to whom time was no object.

'I could not give you a copy of the articles before for a reason I will tell you, and for the same reason I did not give one to the agent of the Duke of Ferrara or to anyone else. The Duke and Pagolo Orsini drew up a draft which was agreeable to them both and the Lord Pagolo took it away to show it to the captains with the understanding that if they agreed to it he would do likewise on behalf of the Duke, who gave him his power of attorney. But when he had started the Duke examined the document again and it seemed to him that an article should have been included which took into account the interests of France.'

Machiavelli had been listening with impatience, for he wanted to see the agreement, if possible get hold of it, and be gone; but now he gave the speaker all his attention.

'The article was duly drawn up and the Duke ordered me to ride after the Lord Pagolo and tell him that unless it was accepted he wouldn't sign. I caught him up and he flatly refused to accept it, but after some discussion he said that he would take it to the others, but he didn't think they would accept it either. And so I left him.'

'What is the point of the article?'

There was laughter in Agapito's voice when he answered.

'If it is accepted it opens a window through which we can slip out of the agreement, and if it is not accepted it unlocks a door through which we can stride with our heads in the air.'

'It looks as though the Duke had more desire for revenge on those who have endangered his state than for peace.'

'You may be quite sure that the Duke will never allow his desires to interfere with his interests.'

'You promised to show me the agreement.'

'Here it is.'

Machiavelli read it eagerly. By its terms the Duke and the rebels were thenceforward to live in peace, concord and union: they were to retain their commands under him with the same pay as before and as a sign of good faith each one of them was to deliver into his safekeeping one of his legitimate sons as a hostage; but they stipulated that not more than one of the captains at a time should encamp with the Duke, and then for no longer than suited him. On their side they agreed to restore to him Urbino and Camerino and in return he undertook to defend their states against anyone, with the exception of His Holiness the Pope or His Majesty the King of France, who attacked them. This was the clause that Il Valentino had insisted on and which, as Agapito had said, even a child might see made the treaty worthless. Bentivoglio of Bologna and Petrucci of Siena were signing a separate agreement with the Pope. With a frown Machiavelli read the document a second time.

'How can they expect the Duke to forgive the injuries they have done him?' he exclaimed when he had finished. 'And how can the Duke be expected to forget the perils in which they have put him?'

'Quern Jupiter vult perdere dementat prius,'
quoted Agapito with a cheerful smile.

'Will you allow me to take this document away to make a copy of it?'

'I couldn't let it out of my hands.'

'I promise to return it tomorrow.'

'It's impossible. The Duke may ask for it any minute.'

'The Duke never ceases to assure me of his sincere friendship for Florence. It is of the greatest importance that my government should be made acquainted with this agreement. Believe me, you will not find them ungrateful for any service you are able to render them.'