In Tuscany, Following the Rise and Fall of Machiavelli

The medieval hamlet of Sant’Andrea in Percussina sits in the Tuscan hills amid rose-covered stone farmhouses and small country chapels surrounded by acres of silver-green olive groves. Farmers drive Apes, the tiny three-wheeled farm vehicles favored by pensioners here, piled high with fruit and vegetables from their land, while the scent of grapes fermenting for local Chianti wine, one of the town’s main productions, wafts from underground barrel-vaulted cantinas. But despite having the feeling of being in a faraway enclave, from a bench in the corner of one of those village gardens, I can see the rooftops of Florence in the distance, even making out the familiar dome of the city’s cathedral, glinting in the early summer sun.

While it seems an idyllic spot today, it was here that five centuries ago the political philosopher and statesman Niccolò Machiavelli, considered by many the architect of modern politics, spent more than a decade in exile. He used to sit on this very perch, in a corner of his garden, pining for his former city home — in view but just out of reach. Machiavelli was born in Florence in 1469, and, for most of his career in government, his fortunes rose and fell in inverse proportion to those of the Medicis, the Florentine family that came to power in the Renaissance and was the source of many of its artistic treasures. A chancellor for the city while the Medicis had been in exile themselves, Machiavelli took part in a failed attempt to stop them from returning to power, for which he’d ended up jailed, tortured and finally banished to this family farm. But while it was punishment, to be sure, to be abruptly removed from his government seat to this secluded village, it also proved a particularly productive period for him, during which he wrote his magnum opus, “The Prince,” in just under a year.

But even as Machiavelli was creating his masterpiece, he had fears it would be misinterpreted, seen by the court as less a letter of forgiveness to the Medicis than a master plan for Machiavelli and other ambitious types to orchestrate their own takeovers. After “The Prince” was written in 1513, his fears were almost immediately realized, the treatise was quickly vilified, and Machiavelli labeled “an agent of the devil.”

Now, however, just before the 500th anniversary of the presentation of “The Prince” to the Medicis in Florence, theorists and political scientists not only believe that in parts it was indeed misread, but also that it, in fact, marks the starting point for modern politics, serving as a highly persuasive treatise on diplomacy and the behind-the-scenes maneuvering required to curry favor in an ever-changing political landscape. “One must be a fox in order to recognize traps, and a lion to frighten off wolves” — it was just this sort of pragmatic thought that has made him so important across the centuries. Leaders from John Adams to Bill Clinton have been influenced by Machiavelli, reciting from his work or studying his texts to put in context their own political times. . .

“He who becomes a Prince through the favor of the people should always keep on good terms with them; which it is easy for him to do, since all they ask is not to be oppressed.”

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