Machiavelli’s Virtù

Scott Nelson

28 October 2014

The following was originally an email written to one of the earliest members of the Vienna Symposium, my dear friend Mohamed. He had asked me what I thought Machiavelli’s understanding of virtue was, and thereby provoked the following response.

I don’t think my answer will be all that illuminating or satisfying to you, partly because I have not had as much time as I would have liked to contemplate the issue, partly because I don’t believe I have considered anything that hasn’t already occurred to you, and partly because Machiavelli himself casts his net rather wide whenever he applies the term, making it very difficult to analyze it in a rigorous manner. Consequently, you might be disappointed in the lack of a straight answer. With the exception of his Discorsi all of Machiavelli’s works were written ad hoc in order to get a job or fall into favour with someone. His greatest passion in life was politics and it is posterity’s good fortune that he was a failure at this, or else the illustrious author of Il Principe, I Discorsi, L’arte della guerra, Istorie fiorentine, and La Mandragola would never have penned such works and would have been known to his descendants, if at all, as little more than just another 15th and 16th century Florentine politician. This notwithstanding, not even his Discorsi are very systematic in composition; they adhere to a form common at the time, namely a commentary on some ancient author, but they read at times almost like aphorisms.

I have said all of this thus far as a preface in order that we don’t unjustifiably raise our expectations. I also apologize in advance that my text will have little organization to it and, in all probability, will not reach any concise and definite conclusion. Furthermore, the convolution will be compounded since I think it will be difficult to separate the discussion of virtù from Machiavelli’s views on libertà and gloria.

Now, I believe that virtù for Machiavelli is primarily a means to an end, i.e. gloria. But even this isn’t entirely satisfactory. Russell Price has observed that Machiavelli’s virtù is synonymous with animo (spirit), gagliardia (sturdiness/virility), fortezza (strength), destrezza (dexterity), and ingegno (talent/genius); and it stands in stark contrast to the antonyms viltà (cowardice), ozio (laziness), ignavia (sloth/idleness), and debolezza (weakness) (Price 1973). This is useful in reminding us that virtù is a composite notion. What is conspicuously absent from this collection of synonyms, and would have been shocking especially to Machiavelli’s Northern Renaissance contemporaries such as Erasmus and Sir Thomas More, is any deference to Christian virtues such as liberality and clemency. In fact, as Skinner has pointed out on numerous occasions (e.g. Skinner 1978, 1981, etc.) Machiavelli makes a point of outright refuting the usefulness (and the fact that Machiavelli is more concerned with “usefulness” or “utility” as opposed to “goodness” also betrays his moral consequentialism) of these so-called virtues or he postulates that actions we normally consider to be virtuous are actually the opposite (Il Principe XVI). Not only does he attack Christian morals but he also subverts some of the wisdom of the most widely read and copied classical Latin work in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance: Cicero’s De officiis (Colish 1978). Cicero holds it as axiomatic that pacta sunt servanda (the cornerstone of Roman law) and that it is better to be loved than to be feared. Both you and I know perfectly well that Machiavelli reverses these statements in Il Principe XVIII and XVII.

If Machiavelli is able to do this with such ease it’s due partly to his pessimistic or realistic view of human nature (and who could blame him given the political situation in Florence and Italy more generally?) and partly to an “ethic of responsibility” instead of an “ethic of conviction”. This begs the question: responsibility to what? Well, to gloria. So what is gloria? I suspect at the time it would have been synonymous with the “civic self-aggrandizement” that Erasmus so disparaged (Nelson 2007). A few years ago when I had first read I Discorsi I had felt that Machiavelli’s notion of gloria comported a certain type of creative energy, if you will. The people who enjoy the highest praise (i.e. gloria by Machiavelli’s account) are Romulus, Theseus, Moses, Cyrus, i.e. the creators of states and laws. Actually in his Discorsi (Book I, Ch. X) he ranks different classes of people in order of who should receive the most praise. At the top we find creators or heads of religion (although sometimes it seems like creators of states and laws are more highly venerated), then those who have founded republics or kingdoms, then heads of armies who have increased their own kingdom or that of their country, and finally, great men of letters. It is additionally a more glorious thing for a man to have created something out of nothing, that is – to use the Aristotelian terms employed by Pocock – to be given raw material that you will form (Pocock 1975). This is why the lawgivers Lycurgus and Solon do not enjoy Machiavelli’s highest praise. It goes without saying that all men who have received this gloria are ipso facto endowed with virtù.

So far I have described virtù as a means to gloria and, with Price, have also suggested that its meaning carries with it strength, virility, talent, dexterity, and spirit. I can’t think of a single instance in which Machiavelli praises a figure who lacks these qualities or attains gloria without virtù. However, the definition of virtù is complicated somewhat by the fact that there seems to be at least one instance where a man can have virtù without actually achieving gloria. This is the oft-bespoken example of Agathocles, tyrant of Syracuse. In Il Principe VIII Machiavelli writes of how Agathocles had ruthlessly killed all the senators and such and then installed himself as the tyrant of Syracuse. Curiously enough, Machiavelli displays virtuous resentment of this eminently capable and virtuoso man. He begins by saying that Agathocles led an evil life (vita scellerata), but “nevertheless, he accompanied his evil ways with so much virtù of spirit and body…” (nondimanco, accompagnò le sua scelleratezze con tanta virtù di animo e di corpo…). And yet, the man disgusts Machiavelli, who, in the same chapter, confesses that “one cannot call virtù the slaughtering of one’s own citizens, the betrayal of friends, being without faith, without piety, without religion; such means can earn one empire, but not gloria.” (Non si può ancora chiamare virtù ammazzare e’ sua cittadini, tradire gli amici, essere sanza fede, sanza pietà, sanza religione; li quali modi possono fare acquistare imperio, ma non gloria.) Here there seems to be a moral component to virtù. This passage also negates the vulgar argument often attributed to Machiavelli: that he advocates the most violent or despicable means in order to achieve his ends. This is hardly the case. Machiavelli is all for just and kind rulers, provided that in so being they are able to mantenere lo stato. Sometimes, however, necessità will demand that you make a choice between your ethic of conviction (Christianity, for example) and your ethic of responsibility (mantenere lo stato), and in this case you might have to use means that conflict with your convictions. Perhaps in the case of Agathocles Machiavelli felt that necessità did not require the vicious means that the tyrant had employed. So it is a question of what the situation demands and what results are produced. Even though Romulus kills his brother Remus and founds Rome, the former is excused (scusato) of being accused (accusato) because the consequence – Rome, then the republic, then the empire that has exerted an inestimable influence on Western civilization – was good. Contrary to popular belief, this does not mean that “the ends justify the means” (a phrase Machiavelli never employed), because such a phrase would imply a general rule, whereas Machiavelli is saying that only in certain specific cases, in retrospect, can we say that the result exonerates the culprit of the means he used (Viroli 2005).

In any case, later Machiavelli is able to praise Pope Julius II and Cesare Borgia who were also ruthless (maybe in their case there was necessità for such means). He seems to admire in them their ability to take advantage of the occasione that fortuna had placed before them, and mould it to their own advantage (and if he’s unable to extend the same admiration to Julius Caesar, I suspect it’s because Caesar had undermined Machiavelli’s beloved Roman republic). Felix Gilbert observes that at the time political success was often perceived to be vouchsafed to leaders who patiently and calmly reflected on the situation before them (Gilbert 1965). Pope Julius II and Cesare Borgia, by contrast, were impulsive and rash, and yet they still managed to conquer. This would be an opportune time to introduce the dichotomy between virtù and fortuna of which both Pocock and Skinner make such a great deal. In my mind Machiavelli’s thoughts on this are a bit ambiguous. On the one hand, virtù is being able to see and take advantage of the occasione that fortuna has placed before you (Machiavelli notes in Il Principe XXV that one half of our lives is controlled by fortuna, but the other half is up to us to determine, for God would not want to steal the glory that belongs to man); on the other hand, virtù almost seems to render fortuna powerless by dominating her as a woman (indeed, fortuna was always considered to be a woman and virtù even contains the Latin word for man, vir): “I therefore conclude that, since Fortune varies and men remain obstinate in their ways, men prosper when the two are in harmony and fail to prosper when they are not in accord. I certainly believe this: that it is better to be impetuous than cautious, because Fortune is a woman, and if you want to keep her under it is necessary to beat her and force her down. It is clear that she more often allows herself to be won over by impetuous men than by those who proceed coldly. And so, like a woman, Fortune is always the friend of young men, for they are less cautious, more ferocious, and command her with more audacity.” (Concludo, adunque, che, variando la fortuna, e stando gli uomini ne’ loro modi ostinati, sono felici, mentre concordano insieme, e, come discordano, infelici. Io iudico bene questo: che sia meglio essere impetuoso che respettivo; perché la fortuna è donna: ed è necessario, volendola tenere sotto, batterla e urtarla. E si vede che la si lascia più vincere da questi, che da quelli che freddamente procedano; e però sempre, come donna, è amica de’ giovani, perché sono meno respettivi, più feroci, e con più audacia la comandano.) The implication here is that virtù might allow one to change the course of history, as it were. I think its significance oscillates between these two meanings: being able to change history and being able to respond to changing circumstances in history, all with a view to the acquisition of gloria.

Now, is virtù only political and is it only for princes? I think not. We have already seen with the example of Agathocles that virtù can also have a moral dimension depending on the exigencies of necessità. It also applies to military affairs whereby, as I understand it (since I haven’t read L’arte della guerra), it denotes military valour and a willingness to fight for one’s own city. This is crucial to Machiavelli because, in his experience, mercenaries were one of the causes of Florence’s perpetual decline and enslavement. This is why he is at pains to stress that it is not money, but rather arms and virtuosi men that win wars. He has a negative view of the corrosive effects of money and commercialism in general and speaks proudly of how he knows nothing about trade and such matters, but only about state affairs (Capponi 2010). There is a strong connection between Machiavelli’s military ideas and his political ideas – the former serving as excellent training for the latter – and he recommends simulation and dissimulation in both (Holeindre 2014). Price is not unaware of these different types of virtù but I think he misses out on an incredibly important form of virtù that ties together some of Machiavelli’s other values, such as libertà, namely republican virtù.

Virtù can be a quality not only of princes but also of republics themselves. It is what enables citizenship and the survival, expansion, and liberty of the republic. Again we find that it is a creative energy that animates people. I think this statement squares with Machiavelli’s very shocking observation that the lifeblood of republics is not stability and peace – as many other thinkers had esteemed, and in this respect Venice was the ideal model – but rather the disunion of the plebs and the senate (Discorsi Book I, Ch. IV). I’m not entirely clear as to how Machiavelli supports this and, moreover, how he thinks that this fundamental disunion can avoid falling down the very slippery slope into a pit of corruption, from which, as Machiavelli himself later attests in his Discorsi, it is practically impossible to escape. In any case, I would submit that he thinks this disunion is important because it allows both the plebs and senators to exercise their ambitions in a way that hopefully won’t destroy the republic. He believes that this constant struggle between the two groups will lead to good laws (buone leggi), which in turn foster a good education (buona educazione), which leads to good examples of virtù. But I would argue that in order for these two groups to duke it out without undermining the foundations of their city, i.e. the republic’s institutions themselves, they would need to be at odds in an environment that has already seen the imposition of good laws, and once again we return to the need for the superior lawmaker at the beginning of the republic. I think the other reason Machiavelli believes that the health of a republic is dependent on strife and not serenity is because Venice, la repubblica serenissima, is essentially aristocratic, and Machiavelli is a staunch supporter of the popolari and a governo largo.

At any rate, once the seeds of corruption have already been sown it is very difficult to replant virtù into the people. Machiavelli believes this because even if good laws were to appear, somewhere in the Discorsi he says that they would be powerless to stop bad customs (Gilbert 1965). If this is the case, then, as Gilbert suggests, virtù is really more of a spiritual force that brings about the laws and thus it enjoys causal primacy. I am inclined to disagree with this view and say that the relation between good customs (buoni costumi) or virtù and good laws (buone leggi) is reciprocal. It would have to be reciprocal because how else could the great lawgiver at the foundation of the republic hope to instill his virtù in the people? By force of his personality alone? Yes, partly, but that would fade after his death. Therefore, in order to instill virtù more permanently he would have to set up a permanent apparatus, i.e. good laws, which would reinforce the virtù of the people. I should also insert here by way of a tangent that Machiavelli did not subscribe to the notion of a permanent republic; he held a cyclical view of human and political affairs and thought that once corruption was latent in a state it would end up rotting from the inside until its dissolution provided the occasione for another great lawgiver to appear.

Finally, the only state in which virtù can be exercised is a free state (civitas libera), i.e. a republic, which ensures libertà. After all, only free men would ensure that their governors behave with justice and virtue (Nelson 2007). But there’s more to the argument and for this Machiavelli draws on Sallust and the latter’s account of the conspiracy of Catiline, in which he notes that “because kings hold the good in greater suspicion than the wicked, and to them the merit of others is always fraught with danger,” the city of Rome “was only able to rise so suddenly to her incredible level of strength and greatness once she gained her liberty, such was the thirst for glory that filled men’s minds.” (quoted in Nelson 2007). In other words, princes or absolute rulers consider it in their best interest to stamp out the virtù of the citizens, rendering them pusillanimous and slaves (recall the antonyms Machiavelli uses to virtù). Libertà permits virtù, which permits gloria.

The irony of all this is that it can happen that the virtù of one republic is inimical to the virtù of another. If virtù is to be associated with “civic self-aggrandizement” then the virtù of Florence must pose a threat to the virtù of Pisa. This belligerent attitude on the part of the Italians was what had so repulsed the Northern Renaissance thinkers, who preferred to hold to a conception of the pax ecclesiastica and, consequently, found themselves drawn more to the Greeks than to the Romans for their notions of glory. Unlike Machiavelli, who never really seriously asks what the end of human and political associations is (he simply assumes it to be the acquisition of gloria, which more or less is a guarantee of some measure of violence and war), Erasmus and Thomas More drew on Christian ideals and the ancient Greeks – the former preached peace and equality; the latter preached a philosophy that sought to define man’s purpose in life: the political life and/or the philosophical life. But these are reflections for another time.

In summation, I would say that Machiavelli’s virtù is a means to an end. If possible, the means should be in conformity with the moral standard of the time (e.g. Christian morality), but if the end (gloria) should require less moral means (due to necessità), then virtù is correspondingly the willingness to exercise these less moral means. The end is of course greatness, gloria. But pride of place must be given to the glory of creating something, be it a state, a religion, a work, or even just contributing to the present glory of one’s current state. Fortuna can bring a man only half-way to gloria; the rest depends on his virtù.