Niccolò Machiavelli (1469—1527)

Machiavelli was a 16th century Florentine philosopher known primarily for his political
ideas. His two most famous philosophical books, The Prince and the Discourses on Livy,
were published after his death. His philosophical legacy remains enigmatic, but that
result should not be surprising for a thinker who understood the necessity to work
sometimes from the shadows. There is still no settled scholarly opinion with respect to
almost any facet of Machiavelli’s philosophy. Philosophers disagree concerning his
overall intention, the status of his sincerity, the status of his piety, the unity of his works,
and the content of his teaching.
His influence has been enormous. Arguably no philosopher since antiquity, with the
possible exception of Kant, has affected his successors so deeply. Indeed, the very list of
these successors reads almost as if it were the history of modern political philosophy
itself. Bacon, Descartes, Spinoza, Bayle, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, Hume, Smith,
Montesquieu, Fichte, Hegel, Marx, and Nietzsche number among those whose ideas ring
with the echo of Machiavelli’s thought. Even those who apparently rejected the
foundations of his philosophy, such as Montaigne, typically regarded Machiavelli as a
formidable opponent and deemed it necessary to engage with the implications of that
philosophy.

Table of Contents
1. Life
1. The Youth (1469-1498)
2. The Official (1498-1512)
3. The Philosopher (1513-1527)
b. Philosophical Themes
1. Virtue
2. Fortune
3. Nature
4. History and Necessity
5. Truth
6. Politics: The Humors
7. Politics: Republicanism
8. Glory
9. Religion
10. Ethics
b. Machiavelli’s Corpus
1. The Prince
2. Discourses on Livy
3. Art of War
4. Florentine Histories
5. Other Works
b. Possible Philosophical Influences on Machiavelli
 1. Renaissance Humanism
2. Renaissance Platonism
3. Renaissance Aristotelianism
4. Xenophon
5. Lucretius
6. Savonarola
7. The Bible and Its Traditions
b. Contemporary Interpretations
c. References and Further Reading
1. Primary Sources
2. Secondary Sources
1. Life
It is customary to divide Machiavelli’s life into three periods: his youth; his work for the
Florentine republic; and his later years, during which he composed his most important
philosophical writings.

Most of Machiavelli’s diplomatic and philosophical career was bookended by two

important political events: the French invasion of Italy in 1494 by Charles VIII; and the
sack of Rome in 1527 by the army of Emperor Charles V.

In what follows, citations to The Prince refer to chapter number (e.g., “P 17”). Citations
to the Discourses and to the Florentine Histories refer to book and chapter number
(e.g., “D 3.1” and “FH 4.26”). Citations to the Art of War refer to book and sentence
number in the Italian edition of Marchand, Farchard, and Masi and in the
corresponding translation of Lynch (e.g., “AW 1.64”).

a. The Youth (1469-1498)

Machiavelli was born on May 3, 1469, to a somewhat distinguished family. He grew up
in the Santo Spirito district of Florence. He had three siblings: Primavera, Margherita,
and Totto. His mother was Bartolomea di Stefano Nelli. His father was Bernardo, a
doctor of law who spent a considerable part of his meager income on books and who
seems to have been especially enamored of Cicero. So, at a young age, Machiavelli was
exposed to many classical authors who influenced him profoundly; as he says in
the Discourses, the things that shape a boy of “tender years” will ever afterward regulate
his conduct (D 3.46). We do not know whether Machiavelli read Greek, but he certainly
read Greek authors in translation, such as Thucydides, Plato, Xenophon, Aristotle,
Polybius, Plutarch, and Ptolemy. He was studying Latin already by age seven and
translating vernacular works into Latin by age twelve. Among the Latin authors that he
read were Plautus, Terence, Caesar, Cicero, Sallust, Virgil, Lucretius, Tibullus, Ovid,
Seneca, Tacitus, Priscian, Macrobius, and Livy. Among Machiavelli’s favorite Italian
authors were Dante and Petrarch.

When he was twelve, Machiavelli began to study under the priest Paolo da Ronciglione,
a famous teacher who instructed many prominent humanists. Machiavelli may have
studied later under Marcello di Virgilio Adriani, a professor at the University of
Florence.

The diaries of Machiavelli’s father end in 1487. For the next ten years, there is no record
of Machiavelli’s activities. In 1497, he returns to the historical record by writing two
letters in a dispute with the Pazzi family.

During this period, there were many important dates during this period. The Pazzi
conspiracy against the Medici occurred in 1478. Savonarola began to preach in Florence
in 1482. In 1492, Lorenzo the Magnificent died and Rodrigo Borgia ascended to the
papacy as Alexander VI. In 1490, after preaching elsewhere for several years, Savonarola
returned to Florence and was assigned to San Marco. In 1494, he gained authority in
Florence when the Medici were expelled in the aftermath of the invasion of Charles VIII.
Machiavelli’s mother passed away in 1496, the same year that Savonarola would urge
the creation of the Great Council. On May 12, 1497, Savonarola was excommunicated by
Alexander VI. On May 23, 1498, almost exactly a year later, he was hung and then
burned at the stake with two other friars in the Piazza della Signoria.

b. The Official (1498-1512)

Not long after Savonarola was put to death, Machiavelli was appointed to serve under
Adriani as head of the Second Chancery. Machiavelli was 29 and had no prior political
experience. A month after he was appointed to the Chancery, he was also appointed to
serve as Secretary to the Ten, the committee on war.

In November 1498 he undertook his first diplomatic assignment, which involved a brief
trip to the city of Piombino. In March 1499, he was sent to Pontedera to negotiate a pay
dispute involving the mercenary captain, Jacopo d’Appiano. In July of the same year, he
would visit Countess Caterina Sforza at Forli (P 3, 6, and 20; D 3.6; FH 7.22 and 8.34;
AW 7.27 and 7.31).

His first major mission was to the French court, from July 1500 to January 1501. There
he would meet Georges d’Amboise, the cardinal of Rouen and Louis XII’s finance
minister (P 3). In 1501, he would take three trips to the city of Pistoia, which was being
torn to pieces by factional disputes (P 17). Over the next decade, he would undertake
many other missions, some of which kept him away from home for months (e.g., his
1507 mission to Germany).

In August 1501 he was married to Marietta di Ludovico Corsini. Machiavelli and

Marietta would eventually have several children, including Bernardo, Primerana (who
died young), an unnamed daughter (who also died young), Baccina, Ludovico, Piero,
Guido, and Totto. Machiavelli was also romantically linked to other women, such as the
courtesan La Riccia and the singer Barbera Salutati.
In 1502, Machiavelli met Cesare Borgia for the first time (e.g., P 3, 7, 8, and 17; D 2.24).
In the same year, Florence underwent a major constitutional reform, which would place
Piero Soderini as gonfaloniere for life (previously the term limit had been two months).
Soderini (e.g., D 1.7, 1.52, 1.56, 3.3, 3.9, and 3.30) allowed Machiavelli to create a
Florentine militia in 1505-1506. The militia was an idea that Machiavelli had promoted
so that Florence would not have to rely upon foreign or mercenary troops (see P 12 and
13). In 1507, Machiavelli would be appointed to serve as chancellor to the newly created
Nine, a committee concerning the militia.

Between 1502 and 1507, Machiavelli would collaborate with Leonardo da Vinci on
various projects. The most notable was an attempt to connect the Arno River to the sea;
to irrigate the Arno valley; and to cut off the water supply to Pisa.

In the summer of 1512, Machiavelli’s militia was crushed at the city of Prato. Soderini
was exiled, and by September 1 Giuliano de’ Medici would march into Florence to
reestablish Medici control of the city. Machiavelli’s tenure for the Florentine
government would last from June 19, 1498 to November 7, 1512. He was one of the few
officials from the republic to be dismissed upon the return of the Medici.

During this period, Cesare Borgia became the Duke of Valentinois in the late summer of
1498. Machiavelli’s father, Bernardo, died in 1500. Alexander VI died in August 1503
and was replaced by Pius III (who lasted less than a month). Julius II would ascend to
the papacy later in November 1503.

c. The Philosopher (1513-1527)

In late 1512, Machiavelli was accused of participating in an anti-Medici conspiracy. In
early 1513, he was imprisoned for twenty-two days and tortured with the strappado, a
method that painfully dislocated the shoulders. He was released in March and retired to
a family house (which still stands) in Sant’Andrea in Percussina.

It was a profound fall from grace, and Machiavelli felt it keenly; he complains of his
“malignity of fortune” in the Dedicatory Letter to The Prince. He seems to have
commenced writing almost immediately. By 10 December 1513, he wrote to his friend,
Francesco Vettori, that he was hard at work on what we now know as his most famous
philosophical book, The Prince. He also began to write the Discourses on Livy during
this period.

During the following years, Machiavelli attended literary and philosophical discussions
in the gardens of the Rucellai family, the Orti Oricellari. He wrote poetry and plays
during this period, and in 1518 he likely wrote his most famous play, Mandragola.

Friends such as Francesco Guicciardini and patrons such as Lorenzo di Filippo Strozzi
attempted, with varying degrees of success, to restore Machiavelli’s reputation with the
Medici. Something must have worked. In 1520, Machiavelli was sent on a minor
diplomatic mission to Lucca, where he would write the Life of Castruccio Castracani.
Impressed, Giuliano de’ Medici offered Machiavelli a position in the University of
Florence as the city’s official historiographer. Giuliano would also commission
the Florentine Histories (which Machiavelli would finish by 1525).

In 1520, Machiavelli published the Art of War, the only major prose work he would
publish during his lifetime. It was well received in both Florence and Rome. He directed
the first production of Clizia in January 1525.

Machiavelli died on June 21, 1527. His body is buried in the Florentine basilica of Santa
Croce.

During this period, Giovanni de’ Medici became Pope Leo X upon the death of Julius II,
in 1513. He was the first Florentine ever to become pope. In October 1517, Martin Luther
sent his 95 Theses to Albert of Mainz. In 1521, Luther was excommunicated by Leo X. In
1522, Piero Soderini died in Rome. In 1523, Giuliano de’ Medici became Pope Clement
VII. In 1527, Clement refused Henry VIII’s request for an annulment. Five years later,
on May 6, 1527, Rome was sacked by Emperor Charles V.

2. Philosophical Themes
If to be a philosopher means to inquire without any fear of boundaries, Machiavelli is
the epitome of a philosopher. Although it is unclear exactly what “reason” means for
Machiavelli, he says that it is “good to reason about everything” (bene ragionare d’ogni
cosa; D 1.18). And he says: “I do not judge nor shall I ever judge it to be a defect to
defend any opinion with reasons, without wishing to use either authority or force for it”
(D 1.58). He claims that he will not reason about certain topics but then does so, anyway
(e.g., P 2, 6, 11, and 12; compare D 1.16 and 1.58). And he suggests that a prince should
be a “broad questioner” (largo domandatore) and a “patient listener to the truth”
(paziente auditore del vero; P 23).

But what more precisely might Machiavelli mean by “philosophy”? It is worth noting
that the word “philosophy” (filosofia) never appears in The Prince or
the Discourses (but see FH 7.6). The word “philosopher(s)” (filosofo / filosofi) appears
once in The Prince (P 19) and three times in the Discourses (D 1.56, 2.5, and 3.12; see
also D 1.4-5 and 2.12, as well as FH 5.1 and 8.29). Machiavelli occasionally refers to
other philosophical predecessors (e.g., D 3.6 and 3.26; FH 5.1; and AW 1.25).

For the sake of presentation, this article presumes that The Prince and

the Discourses comprise a unified Machiavellian philosophy. Readers should note that
other interpreters would not make this presumption. Regardless, what follows is a series
of representative themes or vignettes that could support any number of interpretations.

a. Virtue
The most fundamental of all of Machiavelli’s ideas is virtù. This word has several
valences but is reliably translated in English as “virtue” (sometimes as “skill” or
“excellence”). Although difficult to characterize concisely, Machiavellian virtue concerns
the capacity to shape things and is a combination of self-reliance, self-assertion, self-
discipline, and self-knowledge.

With respect to self-reliance, a helpful way to think of virtue is in terms of what

Machiavelli calls “one’s own arms” (arme proprie; P 1 and 13; D 1.21), a notion that he
links to virtue. This phrase at times refers literally to one’s soldiers or troops. But it can
also refer to a general sense of what is one’s own, that is, what does not belong to or
depend upon something else. Minimally, then, virtue may mean to rely upon one’s self
or one’s possessions. Maximally, it may mean to disavow reliance in every sense—such
as the reliance upon nature, fortune, tradition, and so on. To be virtuous might mean,
then, not only to be self-reliant but also to be independent. In this way, Machiavelli is
perhaps the forerunner of various modern accounts of substance (e.g., that of Descartes)
that characterize the reality of a thing in terms of its independence rather than its
goodness.

With respect to self-assertion, those with virtue are dynamic and restless, even
relentless. Machiavellian virtue thus seems more closely related to the Greek conception
of active power (dynamis) than to the Greek conception of virtue (arete). Consequently,
the idiom of idleness or leisure (ozio) is foreign to most, if not all, of the successful
characters in Machiavelli’s writings, who instead constantly work toward the
achievement of their aims. The Romans, ostensibly one of the model republics, always
look for danger from afar; fight wars immediately if it is necessary; and do not hesitate
to employ fraud (P 3; D 2.13). Cesare Borgia, ostensibly one of the model princes, labors
ceaselessly to lay the proper foundations for his future (P 7). Machiavelli urges his
readers to think of war always, especially in times of peace (P 14); never to fail to see the
oncoming storm in the midst of calm (P 24); and to beware of Fortune, who is like “one
of those raging rivers” that destroys everything in its path (P 25). He laments the
idleness of modern times (D 1.pr; see also FH 5.1) and encourages potential founders to
ponder the wisdom of choosing a site that would force its inhabitants to work hard in
order to survive (D 1.1). Machiavelli says that a wise prince should never be idle in
peaceful times but should instead use his industry (industria) to resist adversity when
fortune changes (P 14).

With respect to self-discipline, virtue involves a recognition of one’s limits coupled with
the discipline to work within those limits. The Prince, for instance, is occasionally seen
as a manual for autocrats or tyrants. But in fact it is replete with recommendations of
moderation and self-discipline. Machiavelli insists, for example, that a prince should use
cruelty sparingly and appropriately (P 8); that he should not seek to oppress the people
(P 9); that he should not spend his subjects’ money (P 16) or take their property or
women (P 17); that he should appear to merciful, faithful, honest, humane, and, above
all, religious (P 18); that he should be reliable, not only as a “true friend” but as a “true
enemy” (P 21); and so forth. And although Machiavelli rarely discusses justice in The
Prince, he does say that “victories are never so clear that the winner does not have to
have some respect [qualche respetto], especially for justice” (giustizia; P 21; see also 19
and 26). For Machiavelli, virtue includes a recognition of the restraints or limitations
within which one must work: not only one’s own limits, but social ones, including
conventional understandings of right and wrong.

Finally, with respect to self-knowledge, virtue involves knowing one’s capabilities and
possessing the paradoxical ability to be firmly flexible. It is not enough to be constantly
moving; additionally, one must always be ready and willing to move in another
direction. Nor is it enough simply to recognize one’s limits; additionally, one must
always be ready and willing to find ways to turn a disadvantage into an advantage.
Success is never a permanent achievement. Time sweeps everything before it and brings
the good as well as the bad (P 3); fortune varies and can ruin those who are obstinate (P
25). Virtue requires that we know how to be impetuous (impetuoso); that we know how
to recognize fortune’s impetus (impeto); that we know how to move quickly in order to
seize an opportunity before it evaporates. Virtue involves flexibility—but this is both a
disciplined and an optimistic flexibility. Furthermore, it is a flexibility that exists within
prudently ascertained parameters and for which we are responsible. What it means to be
virtuous involves understanding ourselves and our place in the cosmos. In this way,
Machiavelli’s conception of virtue is linked not only with his conception of fortune but
also with necessity and nature. Furthermore, it raises the question of what it means to
be wise (savio), an important term in Machiavelli’s thought.

It should be emphasized that Machiavellian virtue is not necessarily moral. At first

glance and perhaps upon closer inspection, Machiavellian virtue is something like
knowing when to choose virtue (as traditionally understood) and when to choose vice.
As he puts it, we must learn how not to be good (P 15 and 19) or even how to enter into
evil (P 18; compare D 1.52), since it is not possible to be altogether good (D 1.26).
Machiavelli is sensitive to the role that moral judgment plays in political life; there
would be no need to dissimulate if the opinions of others did not matter. But his point
seems to be that we do not have to think of our own actions as being excellent or poor
simply in terms of whether they are linked to conventional moral notions of right and
wrong. Praise and blame are levied by observers, but not all observers see from the
perspective of conventional morality.

Some scholars point to Machiavelli’s use of mitigating rhetorical techniques and to his
reading of classical authors in order to argue that his notion of virtue is in fact much
closer to the traditional account than it first appears. Crucial for this issue are the
central chapters of The Prince (P 15-19). Some scholars highlight similarities between
Machiavelli’s treatment of liberality and mercy in particular and the treatments of
Cicero (De officiis) and Seneca (De beneficiis and De clementia). They argue that
Machiavelli’s understanding of these virtues is not in principle different from the
classical understanding and that Machiavelli’s concern is more with the manner in
which these virtues are perceived or “held” (tenuto). Other scholars argue that these
chapters of The Prince completely overturn the classical and Christian understanding of
these virtues and that Machiavelli intends a new account that is actually “useful” in the
world (utile; P 15). The scholarly disagreement over the status of the virtues in the
central chapters of The Prince, in other words, reflects the broader disagreement
concerning Machiavelli’s understanding of virtue as such.
Lastly, it is worth noting that virtù comes from the Latin virtus, which itself comes
from vir or “man.” It is no accident that those without virtue are often called weak,
pusillanimous, and even effeminate (effeminato)—such as the Medes, who are
characterized as effeminate as the result of a long peace (P 6). Neither is it an accident
that fortune, with which virtue is regularly paired and contrasted, is female (e.g., P 20
and 25).

b. Fortune
Fortuna stands alongside virtù as a core Machiavellian concept. It is reliably translated
as “fortune” but it can also mean “storms at sea” in both Latin and Italian.

Machiavelli often situates virtue and fortune in tension, if not opposition. At times, he
suggests that virtue can resist or even control fortune (e.g., P 25). But he also suggests
that fortune cannot be opposed (e.g., D 2.30) and that it can hold down the greatest of
men with its “malignity” (malignità; P Ded.Let and 7, as well as D 2.pr). Fortune
accompanies good with evil and evil with good (FH 2.30). Thus, one of the most
important questions to ask of Machiavelli concerns this relationship between virtue and
fortune.

One way of engaging this question is to think of fortune in terms of what Machiavelli
calls the “arms of others” (arme d’altri; P 1 and 12-13; D 1.43). This phrase at times
refers literally to soldiers who are owned by someone else (auxiliaries) and soldiers who
change masters for pay (mercenaries). But it can also refer to a general sense of what is
not one’s own, that is, what belongs or depends upon something else. Minimally, then,
fortune means to rely upon outside influences—such as chance or God—rather than
one’s self. Maximally, it may mean to rely completely upon outside influences and, in
the end, to jettison completely the idea of personal responsibility. Few scholars would
argue that Machiavelli upholds the maximal position, but it remains unclear how and to
what extent Machiavelli believes that we should rely upon fortune in the minimal sense.

A second way of engaging this question is to examine the ways in which Machiavelli
portrays fortune. In one passage, he likens fortune to “one of those violent rivers” (uno
di questi fiumi rovinosi) which, when enraged, will flood plains and uproot everything
in its path (P 25). This image uses language similar to the description of successful
princes in the very same chapter (as well as elsewhere, such as P 19 and 20). Three times
in the Prince 25 river image, fortune is said to have “impetus” (impeto); at least eight
times throughout Prince 25, successful princes are said to need “impetuosity” (impeto)
or to need to be impetuous (impetuoso). This linguistic proximity might mean various
things: that virtue and fortune are not as opposed as they first appear; that a virtuous
prince might share (or imitate) some of fortune’s qualities; or that a virtuous prince, in
controlling fortune, takes over its role.
Even more famous than the likeness to a river is Machiavelli’s identification of fortune
with femininity. This characterization has important Renaissance precedents—for
instance, in the work of Leon Battista Alberti, Giovanni Pontano, and Enea Silvio
Piccolomini. But Machiavelli’s own version is nuanced and has long resisted easy
interpretation. In The Prince, fortune is identified as female (P 20) and is later said to be
a woman or perhaps a lady (una donna; P 25). This image is echoed in one of
Machiavelli’s poetic works, Dell’Occasione. There he is more specific: fortune is a
woman who moves quickly with her foot on a wheel and who is largely bald-headed,
except for a shock of hair that covers her face and prevents her from being recognized.
Finally, in his tercets on fortune in I Capitoli, Machiavelli characterizes her as a two-
faced goddess who is harsh, violent, cruel, and fickle.

It is worth looking more closely at The Prince’s image of una donna, which is the most
famous of the feminine images. Machiavelli makes at least two provocative claims.
Firstly, he says that it is necessary to beat and strike fortune down if one wants to hold
her down. This hypothetical claim is often read as if it is a misogynistic imperative or at
least a recommendation. But it is worth noting that Machiavelli does not claim that it is
possible to hold fortune down at all; he instead simply remarks upon what would be
necessary if one had the desire to do so. Secondly, Machiavelli says that fortune allows
herself to be won more by the impetuous than by those who proceed in a cold or
cautious manner. Thus, she is a friend of the young, “like a woman” (come donna; now a
likeness rather than an identification). Here, too, it is worth noting that the emphasis
concerns the agency of fortune. She is not conquered. Rather, she relents; she allows
herself to be won. It is far from clear that the young men who come to her manage to
subdue her in any meaningful way, with the implication being that it is not possible to
do so without her consent.

On this point, it is also worth noting that recent work has increasingly explored
Machiavelli’s portrayal of women. Although Machiavelli in at least one place discusses
how a state is “ruined” because of women (D 3.26), he also seems to allow for the
possibility of a female prince. The most notable ancient example is Dido, the founder
and first queen of Carthage (P 20 and D 2.8). The most notable modern example is
Caterina Sforza, who is called “Countess” six times (P 20; D 3.6; FH 8.34 [2x, but
compare FH 7.22]; and AW 7.27 and 7.31) and “Madonna” twice (P 3 and D 3.6). Other
possibilities include women who operate more indirectly, such Epicharis and Marcia—
the respective mistresses of Nero and Commodus (D 3.6). In other words, Machiavelli
seems to allow for the possibility of women who act virtuously, that is, who adopt manly
characteristics. It may be that a problem with certain male, would-be princes is that they
do not know how to adopt feminine characteristics, such as the fickleness or impetuosity
of Fortune (e.g., P 25).

A third way of engaging the question of fortune’s role in Machiavelli’s philosophy is to

look at what fortune does. One of fortune’s most important roles is supplying
opportunity (e.g., P 6 and 20, as well as D 1.10 and D 2.pr). Even the most excellent and
virtuous men appear to require the opportunity to display themselves. Figures as great
as Moses, Romulus, Cyrus, and Theseus are no exception (P 6), nor is the quasi-mythical
redeemer whom Machiavelli summons in order to save Italy (P 26). They all require the
situation to be amenable: for a people to be weak or dispersed; for a province to be
disunited; and so forth. However, some scholars have sought to deflate the role of
fortune here by pointing to the meager basis of many opportunities (e.g., that of
Romulus) and by emphasizing Machiavelli’s suggestion that one can create one’s own
opportunities (P 20 and 26).

It is worth noting that Machiavelli writes on ingratitude, fortune, ambition, and

opportunity in I Capitoli; notably, he omits a treatment of virtue. This pregnant silence
may suggest that Machiavelli eventually came to see fortune, and not virtue, as the
preeminent force in human affairs. In The Prince, he says: “I judge that it might be true”
(iudico potere essere vero) that fortune governs half our actions and leaves the other
half, or “close to it,” for us to govern (P 25; compare FH 7.21 and 8.36). But surely here
Machiavelli is encouraging, even imploring us to ask whether it might not be true.

c. Nature
What Machiavelli means by “nature” is unclear. At times, it seems related to instability,
as when he says that the nature of peoples is variable (P 6); that it is possible to change
one’s nature with the times (P 25; D 1.40, 1.41, 1.58, 2.3, and 3.39); that worldly things
by nature are variable and always in motion (P 10 and FH 5.1; compare P 25); that
human things are always in motion (D 1.6 and 2.pr); and that all things are of finite
duration (D 3.1). Elsewhere, it seems related to stability, as when he says that human
nature is the same over time (e.g., D 1.pr, 1.11, and 3.43). At least once Machiavelli
speaks of “natural things” (cose della natura; P 7); at least twice he associates nature
with God (via spokesmen; see FH 3.13 and 4.16). In the only chapter in either  The
Prince or the Discourses which has the word “nature” (natura; D 3.43) in the title, the
word surprisingly seems to mean something like “custom” or “education.” And the
“natural prince” (principe naturale; P 2) seems to be a hereditary prince rather than
someone who has a princely nature.

The question of nature is particularly important for an understanding of Machiavelli’s

political philosophy, as he says that all human actions imitate nature (D 2.3 and 3.9).
The following remarks about human nature will thus be serviceable signposts. For if
human actions imitate nature, then it is reasonable to believe that Machiavelli’s account
of human nature would gesture toward his account of the cosmos.

One of the key features of Machiavelli’s understanding of human beings is that they are
fundamentally acquisitive and appetitive. The root human desire is the “very natural
and ordinary” desire to acquire (P 3), which, like all desires, can never be fully satisfied
(D 1.37 and 2.pr; FH 4.14 and 7.14). Human beings enjoy novelty; they especially desire
new things (D 3.21) or things that they do not have (D 1.5). It is worth noting that, while
these formulations are in principle compatible with the acquisition of intellectual or
spiritual things, most of Machiavelli’s examples suggest that human beings are typically
preoccupied with material things. For example, he says that human beings forget a
father’s death more easily than the loss of patrimony (P 17). In other words, they love
property more than honor.

Human beings are generally susceptible to deception. They are generally ungrateful and
fickle liars (P 17) who judge by what they see (P 18). They tend to believe in appearances
(P 18) and also tend to be deceived by generalities (D 1.47, 3.10, and 3.34). It is easy to
persuade them of something but difficult to keep them in that persuasion (P 6).

This susceptibility extends to self-deception. Human beings deceive themselves in

pleasure (P 23). They are taken more by present things than by past ones (P 24), since
they do not correctly judge either the present or the past (D 2.pr). They have little
prudence (D 2.11) but great ambition (D 2.20). They always hope (D 2.30; FH 4.18) but
do not place limits on their hope (D 2.28), such that they will willingly change lords in
the mistaken belief that things will improve (P 3). They share a common defect of
overlooking the storm during the calm (P 24), for they are “blind” in judging good and
bad counsel (D 3.35). They often act like “lesser birds of prey,” driven by nature to
pursue their prey while a larger predator fatally circles above them (D 1.40).

Machiavelli’s remarks upon human nature extend into the moral realm. He says that
human beings are envious (D 1.pr) and often controllable through fear (P 17).
Consequently, they hate things due to their envy and their fear (D 2.pr). They do not
know how to be either altogether bad or altogether good (D 1.30); are more prone to evil
than to good (D 1.9); and will always turn out to be bad unless made good by necessity
(P 23). In something of a secularized echo of Augustinian original sin, Machiavelli even
goes so far at times as to say that human beings are wicked (P 17 and 18) and that they
furthermore corrupt others by wicked means (D 3.8). Unlike Augustine, however, he
rarely (if ever) upbraids such behavior, and he furthermore does not seem to believe
that any redemption of wickedness occurs in the next world.

For Machiavelli, human beings are generally imitative. In other words, they almost
always walk on previously beaten paths (P 6). Especially in The Prince, imitation plays
an important role. Machiavelli regularly encourages (or at least appears to encourage)
his readers to imitate figures such as Cesare Borgia (P 7 and P 13) or Caesar (P 14), as
well as certain models (e.g., D 3.33) and the virtue of the past in general (D 2.pr).
However, it should be noted that recent work has called into question whether these
recommendations are sincere. Machiavelli for instance decries the imitation of bad
models in “these corrupt centuries of ours” (D 2.19); and some scholars believe that his
recommendations regarding Cesare Borgia and Caesar in particular are attenuated and
even completely subverted in the final analysis.

Finally, it is worth noting that some scholars believe that Machiavelli goes so far as to
subvert the classical account of a hierarchy or chain of being—either by blurring the
boundaries between traditional distinctions (such as principality / republics; good / evil;
and even man / woman) or, more radically, by demolishing the account as such. On
such a reading, Machiavelli might believe that substances are not determined by their
natures or even that there are no natures (and thus no substances).

d. History and Necessity

History (istoria / storia) and necessity (necessità) are two important terms for
Machiavelli that remain particularly obscure.

Machiavelli is among the handful of great philosophers who is also a great historian.
Although he was interested in the study of nature, his primary interest seemed to be the
study of human affairs. He urges the study of history many times in his writings (e.g., P
14, as well as D 1.pr and 2.pr), especially with judicious attention (sensatamente; D 1.23;
compare D 3.30). He implies that the Bible is a history (D 2.5) and praises Xenophon’s
“life of Cyrus” as a history (P 14; D 2.13, 3.20, 3.22, and 3.39). The Discourses is
presented as a philosophical commentary on Livy’s History. And Machiavelli wrote
several historical works himself, including the verse Florentine history, I Decannali; the
fictionalized biography of Castruccio Castracani; and the Medici-
commissioned Florentine Histories. There is no question that he was keenly interested
in the historian’s craft, especially the recovery of lost knowledge (e.g., D 1.pr and 2.5).
But what exactly does the historian study? What is history? It is not clear in
Machiavelli’s writings whether he believes that time is linear or cyclical. Both accounts
are compatible with his suggestions that human nature does not change (e.g., D 1.pr,
1.11, and 3.43) and that imitating the ancients is possible (e.g., D 1.pr). In some places in
his writings, he gestures toward a progressive, even eschatological sense of time. His call
for a legendary redeemer to unite Italy is a notable example (P 26). In other places, he
gestures toward the cyclical account, such as his approximation of the Polybian cycle of
regimes (D 1.2) or his suggestion that human events repeat themselves (FH 5.1; compare
D 2.5). Scholars thus remain divided on this question. History for Machiavelli might be
a process that has its own purposes and to which we must submit. Alternatively, it might
be a process that we can master and turn toward our own ends.

In his major works, Machiavelli affords modern historians scant attention. He suggests
in the first preface to the Discourses that the readers of his time lack a “true knowledge
of histories” (D 1.pr). In the preface to the Florentine Histories, he calls Leonardo Bruni
and Poggio Bracciolini “two very excellent historians” but goes on to point out their
deficiencies (FH Pref). Machiavelli was friends with the historian Francesco
Guicciardini, who commented upon the Discourses. Their philosophical engagement
occurred primarily through correspondence, however, and in the major works
Machiavelli does not substantively take up Guicciardini’s thought.

Machiavelli speaks more amply with respect to ancient historians. Recent work has
pointed to provocative connections between Machiavelli’s thoughts and that of Greek
historians, such as Herodotus (quoted at D 3.67), Thucydides (D 3.16 and AW 3.214),
Polybius (D 3.40), Diodorus Siculus (D 2.5), Plutarch (D 1.21, 2.1, 2.24 [quoted], 3.12,
3.35, and 3.40), and Xenophon (P 14; D 2.2, 2.13, 3.20, 3.22 [2x], and 3.39 [2x]). Among
the Latin historians that Machiavelli studied were Herodian (D 3.6), Justin (quoted at D
1.26 and 3.6), Procopius (quoted at D 2.8), Pliny (FH 2.2), Sallust (D 1.46, 2.8, and 3.6),
Tacitus (D 1.29, 2.26, 3.6, and 3.19 [2x]; FH 2.2), and of course Livy.

In 1476, when Machiavelli was eight years old, his father obtained a complete copy of
Livy and prepared an index of towns and places for the printer Donnus Nicolaus
Germanus. It is therefore fitting that one of Machiavelli’s two most widely known books
is ostensibly a commentary on Livy’s History. Machiavelli mentions and quotes Livy
many times in his major works. With only a few exceptions (AW 2.13 and 2.24), his
treatment of Livy takes place in Discourses. However, Machiavelli regularly alters or
omits Livy’s words (e.g., D 1.12) and on occasion disagrees with Livy outright (e.g., D
1.58). There is even a suggestion that working with Livy’s account is akin to working
with marble that has been badly blocked out (D 1.11). Only three chapters begin with
epigraphic quotations from Livy’s text (D 2.3, 2.23, and 3.10), and in all three cases
Livy’s words are modified in some manner. It remains an open question to what extent
Machiavelli’s thought is a modification of Livy’s.

As with “history,” the word “necessity” has no univocal meaning in Machiavelli’s

writings. Recent work has attempted to explore Machiavelli’s use of this term, with
respect not only to his metaphysics but also to his thoughts on moral responsibility.
Machiavelli frequently returns to the way that necessity binds, or at least frames, human
action. Sometimes, Machiavelli seems to mean that an action is unavoidable, such as the
“natural and ordinary necessity” (necessità naturale e ordinaria; P 3) of a new prince
offending his newly obtained subjects. He suggests that there are certain rules of counsel
that “never fail” (e.g., P 22). He speaks of the necessity that constrains writers (FH 7.6;
compare D Ded. Let and D 1.10). And at least twice he mentions an “ultimate necessity”
(ultima necessità; D 2.8 and FH 5.11). Sometimes, however, Machiavelli seems to mean
that an action is a matter of prudence—meaning a matter of choosing the lesser evil (P
21)—such as using cruelty only “out of the necessity” (per la necessità; P 8) to secure
one’s self and to maintain one’s acquisitions. And he suggests that there are rules which
“never, or rarely, fail” (e.g., P 3)—that is, rules which admit the possibility of failure and
which are thus not strictly necessary.

Machiavelli speaks of the necessities to be alone (D 1.9), to deceive (D 2.13), and to kill
others (D 3.30). A Lucchese citizen in the Florentine Histories argues that “things done
out of necessity neither should nor can merit praise or blame” (FH 5.11). And in one of
the most famous passages concerning necessity, Machiavelli uses the word two different
times and, according to some scholars, with two different meanings: “Hence it is
necessary [necessario] to a prince, if he wants to maintain himself, to learn to be able
not to be good, and to use this and not use it according to necessity” (la necessità; P 25).

Necessity might be a condition to which we must submit ourselves. Alternatively, it

might be a condition that we can alter, implying that we can alter the meaning of
necessity itself. If what is necessary today might not be necessary tomorrow, then
necessity becomes a weaker notion. At the very least, necessity would not be directly
opposed to contingency; instead, as some scholars maintain, necessity itself would be
contingent in some way and therefore shapeable by human agency.
The beginning of Prince 25 merits close attention on this point. There Machiavelli
reports a view that he says is widely held in his day: the belief that our lives are fated or
determined to such an extent that it does not matter what we choose to do. Though he
admits that he has sometimes been inclined to this position, he ponders a different
possibility “so that our free will not be eliminated” (perché il nostro libero arbitrio non
sia spento). On this question, some scholars highlight Renaissance versions of the Stoic
notion of fate, which contemporaries such as Pietro Pomponazzi seem to have held.
Other scholars highlight Machiavelli’s concerns, especially in his correspondence, with
astrological determinism (a version of which his friend, Vettori, seems to have held).
Two years before he wrote his famous 13-21 September 1506 letter to Giovan Battista
Soderini—the so-called Ghiribizzi al Soderini (Musings to Soderini)—Machiavelli wrote
a now lost letter to Batolomeo Vespucci, a Florentine teacher of astrology at the
University of Padua. In his response to Machiavelli, Vespucci suggests that a wise man
can affect the influence of the stars not by altering the stars (which is impossible) but by
altering himself.

Still other scholars propose a connection with the so-called Master Argument (kurieon
logos) of the ancient Megarian philosopher, Diodorus Cronus. Diodorus denies the
possibility of future contingencies, that is, the possibility that future events do not
already have a determined truth value. Aristotle famously argues against this view in De
Interpretatione; Cicero and Boethius also discuss the issue in their respective
treatments of divine providence. Some scholars have suggested that the beginning
of Prince 25 not only problematizes Machiavelli’s notion of necessity but also engages
with this ancient controversy.
e. Truth
Machiavelli makes a remark concerning military matters that he says is “truer than any
other truth” (D 1.21). However, he is most famous for his claim in chapter 15 of The
Prince that he is offering the reader what he calls the “effectual truth” (verità effettuale),
a phrase he uses there for the only time in all of his writings. Although the effectual
truth may pertain to military matters (e.g., P 14 and P 17), it is comprehensive in that it
treats all the things of the world and not just military things (P 18). Surprisingly, there is
still relatively little work on this fundamental Machiavellian concept. What exactly is the
effectual truth?

One way to address this question is to begin with Chapter 15 of The Prince, where
Machiavelli introduces the term. Given his stated intention there to “write something
useful for whoever understands it,” Machiavelli claims that it is more conveniente to go
after the effectual truth than the imagination of things that have never been seen or
known “to be in truth” (vero essere; compare FH 8.29). Conveniente is variously
rendered by translators as “fitting,” “convenient,” “suitable,” “appropriate,” “proper,”
and the like (compare Romulus’ opportunity in P 6). Two things seem to characterize
the effectual truth in Chapter 15. Firstly, it is distinguished from what is imagined,
particularly imagined republics and principalities (incidentally, this passage is the last
explicit mention of a “republic” in the book). Though Machiavelli often appeals to the
reader’s imagination with images (e.g., fortune as a woman), the effectual truth seems to
appeal to the reader in some other manner or through some other faculty. Whatever it
is, the effectual truth does not seem to begin with images of things. Secondly, the
effectual truth is more fitting for Machiavelli’s intention of writing something useful for
the comprehending reader. The implication seems to be that other (more utopian?)
intentions might find the imagination of things a more appropriate rhetorical strategy.

Another way to address this question is to begin with the Dedicatory Letter to The
Prince. Machiavelli suggests that those who want to “know well” the natures of princes
and peoples are like those who “sketch” (disegnano) landscapes. These sketchers place
themselves at high and low vantage points or perspectives in order to see as princes and
peoples do, respectively. Scholars have highlighted at least two implications of
Machiavelli’s use of this image: that observers see the world from different perspectives;
and that it is difficult, if not impossible, to see oneself from one’s own perspective.
Machiavelli’s politics, meaning the wider world of human affairs, is always the realm of
the partial perspective because politics is always about what is seen. “Everyone sees how
you appear,” he says, meaning that even grandmasters of duplicity—such as Pope
Alexander VI and the Roman emperor Septimius Severus—must still reveal themselves
in some sense to the public eye. The truth begins in ordinary apprehension (e.g., D 1.3,
1.8, 1.12, 2.2, 2.21, 2.27, and 3.34). No one can engage in politics without submitting
themselves to what Machiavelli calls “this aspect of the world” (P 18), which to say that
no one can act in the world at all without displaying themselves in the very action (if not
the result). But precisely because perspective is partial, it is subject to error and indeed
manipulation (e.g., D 1.56, 2.pr, and 2.19).

Another way to put this point is to say that the “effect” (effetto) of the effectual truth is
always the effect on some observer. Milan is not a wholly new principality as such but
instead is new only to Francesco Sforza (P 1). Hannibal’s inhuman cruelty generates
respect in the “sight” of his soldiers; by contrast, it generates condemnation in the sight
of writers and historians (P 17). Unlike Machiavelli himself, those who damn the
tumults of Rome do not see that these disorders actually lead to Roman liberty (D 1.4).
It is worth noting that perspectives do not always differ. Sometimes multiple
perspectives align, as when Severus is seen as “admirable” both by his soldiers and by
the people (P 19; compare AW 1.257). Although the cause in each case differs—the
people are “astonished” and “stupefied” (presumably through fear), whereas the soldiers
are “reverent” and “satisfied” (presumably through love)—the same effect occurs. Or
does it? Some scholars believe that differing causes cannot help but modify effects; in
this case, admiration itself would be stained and colored by either love or fear and would
be experienced differently as a result.

Machiavelli’s concern with appearance not only pertains to the interpretation of

historical events but extends to practical advice, as well. Machiavelli says that a prince
should desire to be held merciful and not cruel (though he immediately insists that a
prince should take care not to “use this mercy badly”; P 17). And Machiavelli says that
what makes a prince contemptible is to be held variable, light, effeminate,
pusillanimous, or irresolute (P 19). What matters in politics is how we appear to others
—how we are held (tenuto) by others. But how we appear depends upon what we do and
where we place ourselves in order to do it. A wise prince for Machiavelli is not someone
who is content to investigate causes—including superior causes (P 11), first causes (P 14
and D 1.4), hidden causes (D 1.3), and heavenly causes (D 2.5). Rather, it is someone
who produces effects. And there are no effects considered abstractly. Some
commentators believe that effects are only effects if they are seen or displayed. They
thus see the effectual truth as proto-phenomenological. Others take a stronger line of
interpretation and believe that effects are only effects if they produce actual changes in
the world of human affairs. Touching rather than seeing might then be the better
metaphor for the effectual truth (see P 18).

f. Politics: The Humors

Machiavelli is most famous as a political philosopher. Although he studied classical texts
deeply, Machiavelli appears to depart somewhat from the tradition of political
philosophy, a departure that in many ways captures the essence of his political position.
At least at first glance, it appears that Machiavelli does not believe that the polity is
caused by an imposition of form onto matter.

Given that Machiavelli talks of both form and matter (e.g., P 6 and D 1.18), this point
deserves unpacking. Aristotle’s position is a useful contrast. For Aristotle, politics is
similar to metaphysics in that form makes the city what it is. The difference between a
monarchy and a republic is a difference in form. This is not simply a question of
institutional arrangement; it is also a question of self-interpretation. Aristotelian
political form is something like a lens through which the people understand themselves.

Firstly, it matters whether monarchs or republicans rule, as the citizens of such polities
will almost certainly understand themselves differently in light of who rules them. A
monarchical “soul” is different from a republican “soul.” Secondly, the factions of the
city believe they deserve to rule on the basis of a (partial) claim of justice. Justice is thus
the underlying basis of all claims to rule, meaning that, at least in principle, differing
views can be brought into proximity to each other. Concord, or at least the potential for
it, is both the basis and the aim of the city.

With respect to the first implication, Machiavelli occasionally refers to the six
Aristotelian political forms (e.g., D 1.2). He even raises the possibility of a mixed regime
(P 3; D 2.6 and 3.1; FH 5.8). But usually he speaks only of two forms, the principality
and the republic (P 1). The lines between these two forms are heavily blurred; the
Roman republic is a model for wise princes (P 3), and the people can be considered a
prince (D 1.58). Machiavelli even at times refers to a prince of a republic (D 2.2). Finally,
he says that virtuous princes can introduce any form that they like, with the implication
being that form does not constitute the fundamental reality of the polity (P 6).

One explanation is that the reality that underlies all form is what Machiavelli nebulously
calls “the state” (lo stato). On this account, political form for Machiavelli is not
fundamentally causal; it is at best epiphenomenal and perhaps even nominal. Instead,
Machiavelli assigns causality to the elements of the state called “humors” (umori) or
“appetites” (appetiti). Some scholars focus on possible origins of this idea (e.g.,
medieval medicine or cosmology), whereas others focus on the fact that the humors are
rooted in desire. Still others focus on the fact that the humors arise only in cities and
thus do not seem to exist simply by nature.

Machiavelli says that the city or state is always minimally composed of the humors of
the people and the great (P 9 and 19; D 1.4; FH 2.12 and 3.1, but contrast FH 8.19); in
some polities, for reasons not entirely clear, the soldiers count as a humor (P 19). The
polity is constituted, then, not by a top-down imposition of form but by a bottom-up
clash of the humors. And as the humors clash, they generate various political effects (P
9)—these are sometimes good (e.g., “liberty”; D 1.4) and sometimes bad (e.g., “license”;
P 17 and D 1.7, 1.37, 3.4 and 3.27; FH 4.1). It is worth noting that a third possibility is
“principality,” which according to some scholars looks suspiciously like the imposition
of form onto matter (e.g., P 6 and 26; see also FH Pref. and 3.1; compare the “wicked
form” of D 3.8). Furthermore, Machiavelli does attribute certain qualities to those who
live in republics—greater hatred, greater desire for revenge, and restlessness born from
the memory of their previous liberty—which might be absent in those who live in
principalities (P 4-5; D 1.16-19 and 2.2; FH 4.1). Such passages appear to bring him in
closer proximity to the Aristotelian account than first glance might indicate.

The humors are also related to the second implication mentioned above. Machiavelli
distinguishes the humors not by wealth or population size but rather by desire. These
desires are inimical to each other in that they cannot be simultaneously satisfied: the
great desire to oppress the people, and the people desire not to be oppressed (compare P
9, D 1.16, and FH 3.1). Discord, rather than concord, is thus the basis for the state.
Consequently, Machiavelli says that a prince must choose to found himself on one or the
other of these humors. Most interpreters have taken him to prefer the humor of the
people for any number of reasons, not the least of which may be Machiavelli’s work for
the Florentine republic. It is worth noting, though, that Machiavelli’s preference may be
pragmatic rather than moral. Government means controlling one’s subjects (D 2.23),
and “good government” might mean nothing more than a scorched-earth, Tacitean
wasteland which one simply calls peace (P 7).

Although many aspects of Machiavelli’s account of the humors are well understood,
some remain mysterious. Firstly, it is unclear what desire characterizes the humor of the
soldiers, a third humor that occurs, if not always, at least in certain circumstances.
Secondly, in the preface to the Florentine Histories Machiavelli suggests that Florence’s
disintegration into multiple “divisions” (divisioni) is unique in the history of republics,
but it is unclear how or why the typical humors of the people drove this great subdivide
further in Florence (though FH 2 and 3 may offer important clues). Thirdly, it is unclear
whether a “faction” (fazione; e.g., D 1.54) and a “sect” (setta; e.g., D 2.5)—each of which
plays an important role in Machiavelli’s politics—ultimately reduce to one of the
fundamental humors or whether they are instead oriented around something other than
desire. Finally, it should be noted that recent work has questioned whether the humors
are as distinct as previously believed; whether an individual or group can move between
them; and whether they exist on something like a spectrum or continuum. For example,
it may be the case that a materially secure people would cease to worry about being
oppressed (and might even begin to desire to oppress others in the manner of the great);
or that an armed people would effectively act as soldiers (such that a prince would have
to worry about their contempt rather than their hatred).

g. Politics: Republicanism
Some scholars claim that Machiavelli is the last ancient political philosopher because he
understands the merciless exposure of political life. By contrast, others claim that
Machiavelli is the first modern political philosopher because he understands the need to
found one’s self on the people. Either position is compatible with a republican reading of
Machiavelli. The status of Machiavelli’s republicanism has been the focus of much
recent work.

Many scholars focus on Machiavelli’s teaching as it is set forth in the Discourses (though

many of the same lessons are found in The Prince). As in The Prince, Machiavelli
attributes qualities to republican peoples that might be absent in peoples accustomed to
living under a prince (P 4-5; D 1.16-19 and 2.2; FH 4.1). He also distinguishes between
the humors of the great and the people (D 1.4-5; P 9). However, in the  Discourses he
explores more carefully the possibility that the clash between them can be favorable
(e.g., D 1.4). He associates both war and expansion with republics and with republican
unity; conversely, he associates peace and idleness with republican disunity (D 2.25). He
notes the flexibility of republics (D 3.9), especially when they are ordered well (D 1.2)
and regularly drawn back to their beginnings (D 3.1; compare D 1.6). He ponders the
political utility of public executions and—as recent work has emphasized—courts or
public trials (D 3.1; compare the parlements of P 3 and P 19 and Cesare’s court of P 7).
He even considers the possibility of a perpetual republic (compare D 3.17 with D 1.20,
1.34, 2.30, 3.1, and 3.22). Like many other authors in the republican tradition, he
frequently ponders the problem of corruption (e.g., D 1.17, 1. 18, 1.55, 2.Pr, 2.19, 2.22,
3.1, 3.16, and 3.33).

However, it remains unclear exactly what Machiavelli means by terms such as

“corruption,” “freedom,” “law,” and even “republic.” It is therefore not surprising that
the content of his republicanism remains unclear, as well. In order to provide a point of
entry into this problem, it would be helpful to offer a brief examination of three rival and
contemporary positions concerning Machiavelli’s republicanism. Although what follows
are stylized and compressed glosses of complicated interpretations, they may serve as
profitable beginning points for a reader interested in pursuing the issue further.

One interpretation might be summed up by the Machiavellian phrase “good laws” (e.g.,
P 12). It holds that Machiavelli is something of a neo-Roman republican. What matters
the most, politically speaking, are robust institutions and deliberative participation in
public life (e.g., D 1.55). Freedom is the effect of good institutions. Corruption is a moral
failing and more specifically a failing of reason. This interpretation focuses upon the
stability of public life. A strength of this interpretation is the emphasis that it places
upon the rule of law as well as Machiavelli’s understanding of virtue. A possible
weakness of this view is that it seems to overlook Machiavelli’s insistence that freedom
is a cause of good institutions, not an effect of them (e.g., D 1.4); and that it seems to
conflate the Machiavellian humor of the people with a more generic and traditional
understanding of “people,” that is, all those who are under the law.

A second interpretation might be summed up by the Machiavellian term “tumults” (e.g.,

D 1.4). It holds that Machiavelli is something of a radical or revolutionary democrat
whose ideas, if comparable to anything classical, are more akin to Greek thought than to
Roman. What matters the most, politically speaking, is non-domination. Freedom is a
cause of good institutions; freedom is not obedience to any rule but rather the
continuous practice of resistance to oppression that undergirds all rules. Corruption is
associated with the desire to dominate others. This interpretation focuses upon the
instability—and even the deliberate destabilization—of political life. A strength of this
interpretation is the emphasis that it places upon tumults, motion, and the more
“decent” end of the people (P 9; see also D 1.58). A possible weakness is that it seems to
understand law in a denuded sense, that is, as merely a device to prevent the great from
harming the people; and that it seems to overlook the chaos that might result from
factional strife (e.g., P 17) or mob justice (e.g., FH 2.37 and 3.16-17).

A third interpretation, which is something of a middle position between the previous

two, might be summed up by the Machiavellian phrase “wise prince” (e.g., P 3). It holds
that Machiavelli advocates for something like a constitutional monarchy. What matters
the most, politically speaking, is stability of public life and especially acquisitions,
coupled with the recognition that such a life is always under assault from those who are
dissatisfied. Freedom is both a cause and effect of good institutions. Corruption is
associated with a decline (though not a moral decline) in previously civilized human
beings. This interpretation focuses both on the stability and instability of political life
(e.g., D 1.16). A strength of this interpretation is its emphasis upon understated features
—such as courts, public trials, and even elections—in Machiavelli’s thought, and upon
Machiavelli’s remarks concerning the infirmity of bodies which lack a “head” (e.g., P 26;
D 1.44 and 1.57). A possible weakness is that it seems to downplay Machiavelli’s remarks
on nature and consequently places outsized importance upon processes such as training
(esercitato), education (educazione), and art (arte).

h. Glory
Glory is one of the key motivations for the various actors in Machiavelli’s corpus. Some
scholars go so far as to claim that it is the highest good for Machiavelli. Others deflate its
importance and believe that Machiavelli’s ultimate aim is to wean his readers from their
desire for glory.

Machiavelli’s understanding of glory (gloria) is substantially beholden to that of the

Romans, who were “great lovers of glory” (D 1.37; see also D 1.58 and 2.9). Ancient
Romans attained prominence through the acquisition of dignitas, which can be
translated as “dignity” but which also included the notion of honors or trophies awarded
as recognition of one’s accomplishments. Possessions, titles, family achievements, and
land could all contribute to dignitas. But what was most important was gloria, one’s glory
and reputation (or lack thereof) for greatness. Plebeians, who did not possess as much
wealth or family heritage as patricians, could still attain prominence in the Roman
Republic by acquiring glory in speeches (e.g., Cicero) or through deeds, especially in
wartime (e.g., Gaius Marius). Typically, this quest for glory occurred “within the
system.” A Roman would begin his political career with a lower office (quaestor or aedile)
and would attempt to rise to higher positions (tribune, praetor, or consul) by pitting his
ambition and excellence in ferocious competition against his fellow citizens.
The destabilization of the Roman Republic was in part due to individuals who short-
circuited this system, that is, who achieved glory outside the conventional political
pathway. A notable example is Scipio Africanus. At the beginning of his ascendancy,
Scipio had never held any political positions and was not even eligible for them.
However, by his mid-twenties he had conducted major military reforms. By his mid-
thirties, he had defeated no less a general than Hannibal, the most dangerous enemy the
Romans ever faced and the “master [or teacher] of war” (maestro di guerra; D 3.10). This
unprecedented achievement gained Scipio much glory—at least in the Senate, as
Machiavelli notes (though not with Fabius Maximus; P 17 and D 3.19-21). Indeed, Scipio
gained so much glory that he catapulted past his peers in terms of renown, regardless of
his lack of political accomplishments. Consequently, his imitation was incentivized,
which partly led to the rise of the warlords—such as Pompey and Julius Caesar—and the
eventual end of the Republic.
Machiavelli’s understanding of glory is beholden to this Roman understanding in at
least three ways: the dependence of glory upon public opinion; the possibility of an
exceptional individual rising to prominence through nontraditional means; and the
proximity of glory to military operations. One useful example of the concatenation of all
three characteristics is Agathocles the Sicilian. Agathocles became king of Syracuse after
rising from “a mean and abject fortune” (P 8). If one considers the “virtue of
Agathocles,” Machiavelli says, one does not see why he should be judged inferior to “any
most excellent captain.” Agathocles rose to supremacy with “virtue of body and spirit”
and had no aid but that of the military. Indeed, there is little, if anything, that can be
attributed to fortune in his ascent. It seems clear for all of these reasons that Agathocles
is virtuous on the Machiavellian account. But Machiavelli goes on to say that “one
cannot call it virtue” to do what Agathocles did. One cannot call it virtue to keep to a life
of crime constantly; to slaughter the senators and the rich; to betray one’s friends; to be
without faith, without mercy, without religion. Although such acts are compatible with
Machiavellian virtue (and might even comprise it), they cannot be called virtuous
according to the standards of conventional morality. Agathocles’ savage cruelty,
inhumanity, and infinite crimes do not “permit him to be celebrated” among the most
excellent human beings (compare P 6). In general, force and strength easily acquire
reputation rather than the other way around (D 1.34). But Machiavelli concludes that
Agathocles paid so little heed to public opinion that his virtue was not enough. In the
end, Agathocles’ modes enabled him to acquire “empire but not glory” (P 8).

Glory for Machiavelli thus depends upon how you are seen and upon what people say
about you. Many of the successful and presumably imitable figures in both The
Prince and the Discourses share the quality of being cruel, for example. But even
“cruelties well-used” (P 8) are insufficient to maintain your reputation in the long run.
This is at least partly why explorations of deceit and dissimulation take on increasing
prominence as both works progress (e.g., P 6, 19, and especially 26; D 3.6). One must
learn to imitate not only the force of the lion but also the fraud of the fox (P 7, 18, and
19; D 2.13 and 3.40). Doing so might allow one to avoid a “double shame” and instead
achieve a “double glory”: beginning a new regime and adorning it with good laws, arms,
and examples (P 24).
Whether veneration (venerazione) and reverence (riverenzia) are ultimately higher
concepts than glory remains an important question, and recent work has taken it up.
Those interested in this question may find it helpful to begin with the following
passages: P 6, 7, 11, 17, 19, 23, and 26; D 1.10-12, 1.36, 1.53-54, 2.20, 3.6 and 3.22; FH
1.9, 3.8, 3.10, 5.13, 7.5, and 7.34; and AW 6.163, 7.215, 7.216, and 7.223.
i. Religion
The place of religion in Machiavelli’s thought remains one of the most contentious
questions in the scholarship. His brother Totto was a priest. His father appeared to be a
devout believer and belonged to a flagellant confraternity called the Company of Piety.
When Machiavelli was eleven, he joined the youth branch of this company, and he
moved into the adult branch in 1493. From 1500 to 1513, Machiavelli and Totto paid
money to the friars of Santa Croce in order to commemorate the death of their father
and to fulfill a bequest from their great-uncle. Machiavelli’s actual beliefs, however,
remain mysterious. He did write an Exhortation to Penitence (though scholars disagree
as to his sincerity; compare P 26). And he did accept the last rites upon his deathbed in
the company of his wife and some friends. But evidence in his correspondence—for
instance, in letters from close friends such as Francesco Vettori and Francesco
Guicciardini—suggests that Machiavelli did not take pains to appear publicly religious.

As with many other philosophers of the modern period, interpretations of Machiavelli’s

religious beliefs can gravitate to the extremes: some scholars claim that Machiavelli was
a pious Christian, while others claim that he was a militant and unapologetic atheist.
Still others claim that he was religious but not in the Christian sense. It remains unclear
what faith (fide) and piety (or mercy, pietà) mean for Machiavelli. Perhaps the easiest
point on entry is to examine how Machiavelli uses the word “religion” (religione) in his
writings.

Machiavelli variously speaks of “the present religion” (la presente religione; e.g., D
1.pr), “this religion” (questa religione; e.g., D 1.55), “the Christian religion” (la cristiana
religione; e.g., FH 1.5), and “our religion” (nostra religione; e.g., D 2.2). Machiavelli
says that “our religion [has shown] the truth and the true way” (D 2.22; cf. D 3.1 and
1.12), though he is careful not to say that it is the true way. “Our religion” is also
contrasted to the curiously singular “ancient religion” (religione antica; D 2.2). Recent
work has suggested that Machiavelli’s notion of the ancient religion may be analogous
to, or even associated with, the prisca theologia / philosophia perennis which was
investigated by Ficino, Pico, and others.

Machiavelli speaks of religious “sects” (sette; e.g., D 2.5), a type of group that seems to
have a lifespan between 1,666 and 3,000 years. Species of sects tend to be distinguished
by their adversarial character, such as Catholic versus heretical (FH 1.5); Christian
versus Gentile (D 2.2); and Guelf versus Ghibelline (P 20). They also generally, if not
exclusively, seem to concern matters of theological controversy. It is not clear whether
and to what extent a religion differs from a sect for Machiavelli.

Machiavelli suggests that reliance upon certain interpretations—“false interpretations”

(false interpretazioni)—of the Christian God has led in large part to Italy’s servitude.
Such interpretations implore human beings to think more of enduring their beatings
than of avenging them (D 2.2 and 3.27). He seems to allow for the possibility that not all
interpretations are false; for example, he says that Francis and Dominic rescue
Christianity from elimination, presumably because they return it to an interpretation
that focuses upon poverty and the life of Christ (D 3.1). And one of the things that
Machiavelli may have admired in Savonarola is how to interpret Christianity in a way
that is muscular and manly rather than weak and effeminate (compare P 6 and 12; D
1.pr, 2.2 and 3.27; FH 1.5 and 1.9; and AW 2.305-7).

Some scholars have emphasized the various places where Machiavelli associates
Christianity with the use of dissimulation (e.g., P 18) and fear (e.g., D 3.1) as a form of
social control. Other scholars believe that Machiavelli adheres to an Averroeist (which is
to say Farabian) understanding of the public utility of religion. On such an
understanding, religion is necessary and salutary for public morality. The philosopher
should therefore take care not to disclose his own lack of belief or at least should attack
only impoverished interpretations of religion rather than religion as such.
Finally, recent work has emphasized the extent to which Machiavelli’s concerns appear
eminently terrestrial; he never refers in either The Prince or the Discourses to the next
world or to another world.

j. Ethics
Machiavelli’s very name has become a byword for treachery and relentless self-interest.
His ethical viewpoint is usually described as something like “the end justifies the means”
(see for instance D 1.9). Is this a fair characterization?

The easiest point of entry into Machiavelli’s notion of ethics is the concept of cruelty. At
least since Montaigne (and more recently with philosophers such as Judith Skhlar
and Richard Rorty), this vice has held a special philosophical status. Indeed,
contemporary moral issues such as animal ethics, bullying, shaming, and so forth are
such contentious issues largely because liberal societies have come to condemn cruelty
so severely. It is all the more striking to readers today, then, when they confront
Machiavelli’s seeming recommendations of cruelty. Such recommendations are
common throughout his works. In the Discourses, Machiavelli appears to recommend a
cruel way which is an enemy to every “Christian,” and indeed “human,” way of life (D
1.26); furthermore, he appears to indirectly attribute this way of life to God (via David).
In The Prince, he speaks of “cruelties well-used” (P 8) and explicitly identifies almost
every imitable character as cruel (e.g., P 7, 8, 19, and 21). He even speaks of “mercy
badly used” (P 17).
The fact that seeming vices can be used well and that seeming virtues can be used poorly
suggests that there is an instrumentality to Machiavellian ethics that goes beyond the
traditional account of the virtues. One could find many places in his writings that
support this point (e.g., D 1.pr and 2.6), although the most notable is when he says that
he offers something “useful” to whoever understands it (P 15). But what exactly is this
instrumentality?

Partly, it seems to come from human nature. We have a “natural and ordinary desire” to
acquire (P 3) which can never in principle be satisfied (D 1.37 and 2.pr; FH 4.14 and
7.14). Human life is thus restless motion (D 1.6 and 2.pr), resulting in clashes in the
struggle to satisfy one’s desires. It is thus useful as a regulative ideal, and is perhaps
even true, that we should see others as bad (D 1.3 and 1.9) and even wicked beings (P 17
and 18) who corrupt others by wicked means (D 3.8). In order to survive in such a
world, goodness is not enough (D 3.30). Instead, we must learn how not to be good (P 15
and 19) or even how to enter into evil (P 18; compare D 1.52), since it is not possible to
be altogether good (D 1.26). Even “the good” itself is variable (P 25). Thus, virtues and
vices serve something outside themselves; they are not purely good or bad. Recognizing
this limitation of both virtue and vice is eminently useful.

Another way to put this point is in terms of imitation. While we should often imitate
those greater than us (P 6), we should also learn how to imitate those lesser than us. For
example, we should imitate animals in order to fight as they do, since human modes of
combat, such as law, are often not enough—especially when dealing with those who do
not respect laws (P 18). More specifically, we should imitate the lion and the fox. The
lion symbolizes force, perhaps to the point of cruelty; the fox symbolizes fraud, perhaps
to the point of lying about the deepest things, such as religion (P 18). Everything, even
one’s faith (D 1.15) and one’s offspring (P 11), can be used instrumentally.

The mention of the fox brings us to a second profitable point of entry into Machiavellian
ethics, namely deception. Machiavelli’s moral exemplars are often cruel, but they are
also often dissimulators. One of the clearest examples is Pope Alexander VI, a
particularly adroit liar (P 18). Throughout his writings, Machiavelli regularly advocates
lying (e.g., D 1.59 and 3.42; FH 6.17), especially for those who attempt to rise from
humble beginnings (e.g., D 2.13). He even at one point suggests that it is useful to
simulate craziness (D 3.2).

Because cruelty and deception play such important roles in his ethics, it is not unusual
for related issues—such as murder and betrayal—to rear their heads with regularity. If
Machiavelli possessed a sense of moral squeamishness, it is not something that one
easily detects in his works. However, it should be noted that recent work has suggested
that many, if not all, of Machiavelli’s shocking moral claims are ironic. If this hypothesis
is true, then his moral position would be much more complicated than it appears to be.
Does Machiavelli ultimately ask us to rise above considerations of utility? Does he, of all
people, ask us to rise above what we have come to see as Machiavellianism?

3. Machiavelli’s Corpus
In what follows, Machiavelli’s four major works are discussed and then his other
writings are briefly characterized.

a. The Prince
The Prince is Machiavelli’s most famous philosophical book. It was begun in 1513 and
probably completed by 1515. We possess no surviving manuscript copy of it in
Machiavelli’s own handwriting. We first hear of it in Machiavelli’s 10 December 1513
letter to his friend, Francesco Vettori, wherein Machiavelli divulges that he has been
composing “a little work” entitled De Principatibus. Machiavelli also says that Filippo
Casavecchia, a longtime friend, has already seen a rough draft of the text.

Evidence suggests that other manuscript copies were circulating among Machiavelli’s
friends, and perhaps beyond, by 1516-17. These manuscripts, some of which we do
possess, do not bear the title of The Prince. That title did not appear until roughly five
years after Machiavelli’s death, when the first edition of the book was published with
papal privilege in 1532.

Which title did Machiavelli intend: the Latin title of De Principatibus (“Of
Principalities”); or the Italian title of Il Principe (“The Prince”)? That the book has two
purported titles—and that they do not translate exactly into one another—remains an
enduring and intriguing puzzle. The structure of The Prince does not settle the issue, as
the book begins with chapters that explicitly treat principalities, but eventually proceeds
to chapters that explicitly treat princes. Nor does the content settle the issue; the chapter
titles are in Latin but the body of each chapter is in Italian, and the words “prince” and
“principality” occur frequently throughout the entire book. Lastly, the Discourses offer
no easy resolution; Machiavelli there refers to The Prince both as “our treatise of
principalities” (nostro trattato de’ principati; D 2.1) and “our treatise of the Prince”
(nostro trattato de Principe; D 3.42).

The Prince is composed of twenty-six chapters which are preceded by a Dedicatory

Letter to Lorenzo de’ Medici (1492-1519), the grandson of Lorenzo the Magnificent
(1449-92). As we learn from the aforementioned letter to Vettori, Machiavelli had
originally intended to dedicate The Prince to Lorenzo the Magnificent’s son, Giuliano. At
some point, for reasons not entirely clear, Machiavelli changed his mind and dedicated
to the volume to Lorenzo. We do not know whether Giuliano or Lorenzo ever read the
work. There is an old story, perhaps apocryphal, that Lorenzo preferred a pack of
hunting dogs to the gift of The Prince and that Machiavelli consequently swore revenge
against the Medici. At any rate, the question of the precise audience of The
Prince remains a key one. Some interpreters have even suggested that Machiavelli
writes to more than one audience simultaneously.

The question of authorial voice is also important. Machiavelli himself appears as a

character in The Prince twice (P 3 and 7) and sometimes speaks in the first person (e.g.,
P 2 and P 13). However, it is not obvious how to interpret these instances, with some
recent scholars going so far as to say that Machiavelli operates with the least sincerity
precisely when speaking in his own voice. This issue is exacerbated by the Dedicatory
Letter, in which Machiavelli sets forth perhaps the foundational image of the book. He
compares “those who sketch [disegnano]” landscapes from high and low vantage points
to princes and peoples, respectively. And he suggests that “to know well” the nature of
peoples one needs to a prince, and vice versa. The suggestion seems to be that
Machiavelli throughout the text variously speaks to one or the other of these vantage
points and perhaps even variously speaks from one or the other of these vantage points.
At the very least, the image implies that we should be wary of taking his claims in a
straightforward manner. The sketcher image becomes even more complicated later in
the text, when Machiavelli introduces the perspectives of two additional “humors” of the
city, that is, the great (i grandi; P 9) and the soldiers (i soldati; P 19).

An additional interpretative difficulty concerns the book’s structure. In the first chapter,
Machiavelli appears to give an outline of the subject matter of The Prince. But this
subject matter appears to be exhausted as early as Chapter 7. What, then, to make of the
rest of the book? One possibility is that The Prince is not a polished work; some scholars
have suggested that it was composed in haste and that consequently it might not be
completely coherent. An alternative hypothesis is that Machiavelli has some literary or
philosophical reason to break from the structure of the outline, keeping with his general
trajectory of departing from what is customary. A third hypothesis is that the rest of the
book is somehow captured by the initial outline and that what Machiavelli calls
“threads” (orditi; P2) or “orders” (ordini; P 10) flow outward, if only implicitly, from the
first chapter.

Whatever interpretation one holds to, the subject matter of the book seems to be
arranged into roughly four parts: Chapters 1-11 treat principalities (with the possible
exception of Chapter 5); Chapters 12-14 treat the art of war; Chapters 15-19 treat
princes; and Chapters 20-26 treat what we may call the art of princes. The first three
sections, at least, are suggested by Machiavelli’s own comments in the text. In Chapter
12, Machiavelli says that he has previously treated the acquisition and maintenance of
principalities and says that the remaining task is to discourse generally on offensive and
defensive matters. Similarly, in Chapter 15, Machiavelli says that what remains is to see
how a prince should act with respect to subjects and friends, implying minimally that
what has come previously is a treatment of enemies.

Almost from its composition, The Prince has been notorious for its seeming
recommendations of cruelty; its seeming prioritization of autocracy (or at least
centralized power) over more republican or democratic forms; its seeming lionization of
figures such as Cesare Borgia and Septimius Severus; its seeming endorsements of
deception and faith-breaking; and so forth. Indeed, it remains perhaps the most
notorious work in the history of political philosophy. One should be wary, however, of
resting with what seems to be the case in The Prince, especially given Machiavelli’s
repeated insistence that appearances can be manipulated. But the meaning of these
manipulations, and indeed of these appearances, remains a scholarly question.
Interpreters of the caliber of Rousseau and Spinoza have believed The Prince to bear a
republican teaching at its core. Some scholars have gone so far as to see it as an utterly
satirical or ironic work. Others have insisted that the book is even more dangerous than
it first appears. At any rate, how The Prince fits together with the Discourses (if at all)
remains one of the enduring puzzles of Machiavelli’s legacy.

b. Discourses on Livy
There is reason to suspect that Machiavelli had begun writing the Discourses as early as
1513; for instance, there seems to be a reference in The Prince to another, lengthier work
on republics (P 2). And since the Discourses references events from as late as 1517, it
seems to have still been a work in progress by that point and perhaps even later.

Evidence suggests that manuscript copies were circulating by 1530 and perhaps earlier.
We do not possess any of these manuscripts; in fact, we possess no manuscript of
the Discourses in Machiavelli’s handwriting except for what is now known as the preface
to the first book. It bears no heading and begins with a paragraph that our other
manuscripts do not have. There is still debate over whether this paragraph should be
excised (since it is not found in the other manuscripts) or whether it should be retained
(since it is found in the only polished writing we have of the Discourses in Machiavelli’s
hand). It is typically retained in English translations.

Roughly four years after Machiavelli’s death, the first edition of the Discourses was
published with papal privilege in 1531. As with The Prince, there is a bit of mystery
surrounding the title of the Discourses. The book appeared first in Rome and then a few
weeks later in Florence, with the two publishers (Blado and Giunta, respectively)
seemingly working with independent manuscripts. Both the Blado and Giunta texts give
the title of Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio. The reference is to Livy’s History
of Rome (Ab Urbe Condita) and more specifically to its first ten books. Machiavelli
refers simply to Discorsi in the Dedicatory Letter to the work, however, and it is not
clear whether he intended the title to specifically pick out the first ten books by name.
Additionally, some of Machiavelli’s contemporaries, such as Guicciardini, do not name
the book by the full printed title. Today, the title is usually given as the Discourses on
Livy (or the Discourses for short).

The number of chapters in the Discourses is 142, which is the same number of books in
Livy’s History. This is a curious coincidence and one that is presumably intentional. But
what is the intent? Scholars are divided on this issue. A second, related curiosity is that
the manuscript as we now have it divides the chapters into three parts or books.
However, the third part does not have a preface as the first two do.

As with the dedicatory letter to The Prince, there is also a bit of mystery surrounding the
dedicatory letter to the Discourses. The work is dedicated to Zanobi Buondelmonti and
Cosimo Rucellai, two of Machiavelli’s friends, of whom Machiavelli says in the letter that
they deserve to be princes even though they are not. It is noteworthy that
the Discourses is the only one of the major prose works dedicated to friends; by
contrast, The Prince, the Art of War, and the Florentine Histories are all dedicated to
potential or actual patrons.
Machiavelli makes his presence known from the very beginning of the Discourses; the
first word of the work is the first person pronoun, “Io.” And indeed the impression that
one gets from the book overall is that Machiavelli takes fewer pains to recede into the
background here than in The Prince. The Discourses is, by Machiavelli’s admission,
ostensibly a commentary on Livy’s history. In the preface to the first book, Machiavelli
laments the fact that there is no longer a “true knowledge of histories” (vera cognizione
delle storie) and judges it necessary to write upon the books of Livy that have not been
intercepted by “the malignity of the times” (la malignità de’ tempi). He claims that
those who read his writings can “more easily draw from them that utility [utilità] for
which one should seek knowledge of histories” (D I.pr). However, it is a strange kind of
commentary: one in which Machiavelli regularly alters or omits Livy’s words (e.g., D
1.12) and in which he disagrees with Livy outright (e.g., D 1.58).

Clues as to the structure of the Discourses may be gleaned from Machiavelli’s remarks in

the text. At the end of the first chapter (D 1.1), Machiavelli distinguishes between things
done inside and outside the city of Rome. He further distinguishes between things done
by private and public counsel. Finally, he claims that the first part or book will treat
things done inside the city by public counsel. The first part, then, primarily treats
domestic political affairs. Machiavelli says that the second book concerns how Rome
became an empire, that is, it concerns foreign political affairs (D 2.pr). If Machiavelli did
in fact intend there to be a third part, the suggestion seems to be that it concerns affairs
conducted by private counsel in some manner. It is noteworthy that fraud and
conspiracy (D 2.13, 2.41, and 3.6), among other things, become increasingly important
topics as the book progresses. At first glance, it is not clear whether the teaching of
the Discourses complements that of The Prince or whether it militates against it.
Scholars remain divided on this issue. Some insist upon the coherence of the books,
either in terms of a more nefarious teaching typically associated with The Prince; or in
terms of a more consent-based, republican teaching typically associated with
the Discourses. Others see the Discourses as a later, more mature work and take its
teaching to be truer to Machiavelli’s ultimate position, especially given his own work for
the Florentine republic. At any rate, how the books fit together remains perhaps the
preeminent puzzle concerning Machiavelli’s philosophy. The Discourses nevertheless
remains one of the most important works in modern republican theory. It had an
enormous effect on republican thinkers such as Rousseau, Montesquieu, Hume, and the
American Founders. (See “Politics: Republicanism” above.)

c. Art of War
The Art of War is the only significant prose work published by Machiavelli during his
lifetime and his only attempt at writing a dialogue in the humanist tradition. It was
probably written in 1519. The first edition was published in 1521 in Florence under the
title Libro della arte della Guerra di Niccolò Machiavegli cittadino et segretario fiorentino. It
takes the literary form of a dialogue divided into seven books and preceded by a preface.
Like The Prince, the work is dedicated to a Lorenzo—in this case, Lorenzo di Filippo
Strozzi, “Florentine Patrician.” Strozzi was either a friend (as has been customarily held)
or a patron (as recent work suggests). It is worth noting in passing that we possess
autograph copies of two of Strozzi’s works in Machiavelli’s hand (Commedia and Pistola).
The action of the Art of War takes place after dinner and in the deepest and most secret
shade (AW 1.13) of the Orti Oricellari, the gardens of the Rucellai family. These gardens
were cultivated by Bernardo Rucellai, a wealthy Florentine who was a disciple of Ficino
and who was also the uncle of two Medici popes, Leo X and Clement VII (via his
marriage to Nannina, the eldest sister of Lorenzo the Magnificent). Bernardo filled the
gardens with plants mentioned in classical texts (AW 1.13-15) and intended the place to
be a center of humanist discussion. Ancient philosophy, literature, and history were
regularly discussed there, in addition to contemporary works on occasion (for example,
some of Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy). Visitors included Machiavelli, Guicciardini,
and members of Ficino’s so-called Platonic Academy. Notably, the gardens were the site
of at least two conspiracies: an aristocratic one while Florence was a republic under the
rule of Soderini (1498-1512); and a republican one, headed up by Cosimo Rucellai, after
the Medici regained control in 1512. Conspiracy is one of the most extensively examined
themes in Machiavelli’s corpus: it is the subject of both the longest chapter of The
Prince (P 19) and the longest chapter of the Discourses (D 3.6; see also FH 2.32, 7.33, and
8.1).
One of the interlocutors of the Art of War is Bernardo’s grandson, Cosimo Rucellai, who
is also one of the dedicatee of the Discourses. The other dedicatee of the Discourses,
Zanobi Buondelmonti, is also one of the interlocutors of the Art of War. Two of the other
young men present are Luigi Alammani (to whom Machiavelli dedicated the Life of
Castruccio Castracani along with Zanobi) and Battista della Palla. But perhaps the most
important and striking speaker is Fabrizio Colonna. Colonna was a mercenary captain—
notable enough, given Machiavelli’s insistent warnings against mercenary arms (e.g., P
12-13 and D 1.43). However, Colonna was also the leader of the Spanish forces that
compelled the capitulation of Soderini and that enabled the Medici to regain control of
Florence.
In the preface to the work, Machiavelli notes the vital importance of the military: he
compares it to a palace’s roof, which protects the contents (compare FH 6.34). And he
laments the corruption of modern military orders as well as the modern separation of
military and civilian life (AW Pref., 3-4). Roughly speaking, books 1 and 2 concern issues
regarding the treatment of soldiers, such as payment and discipline. Books 3 and 4
concern issues regarding battle, such as tactics and formation. Book 5 concerns issues
regarding logistics, such as supply lines and the use of intelligence. Book 6 concerns
issues regarding the camp, including a comparison to the way that the Romans
organized their camps. Book 7 concerns issues regarding armament, such as
fortifications and artillery. Like The Prince, the Art of War ends with an indictment of
Italian princes with respect to Italy’s weak and fragmented situation.
Many Machiavellian themes from The Prince and the Discourses recur in the Art of War.
Some examples are: the importance of one’s own arms (AW 1.180; P 6-9 and 12-14; D
2.20); modern misinterpretations of the past (AW 1.17; D 1.pr and 2.pr); the way that
good soldiers arise from training rather than from nature (AW 1.125 and 2.167; D 1.21
and 3.30-9); the need to divide an army into three sections (AW 3.12ff; D 2.16); the
willingness to adapt to enemy orders (AW 4.9ff; P 14; D 3.39); the importance of
inspiring one’s troops (AW 4.115-40; D 3.33); the importance of generating obstinacy
and resilience in one’s troops (AW 4.134-48 and 5.83; D 1.15); and the relationship
between good arms and good laws (AW 1.98 and 7.225; P 12).
Strong statements throughout his corpus hint at the immensely important role of war in
Machiavelli’s philosophy. In The Prince, Machiavelli says that a prince should focus all of
his attention upon becoming a “professional” in the art of war (professo; compare the
“professions” of AW Pref. and P 15), for “that is the only art which is of concern to one
who commands” (P 14). In the Discourses, he says that it is “truer than any other truth”
that it is always a prince’s defect (rather than a defect of a site or nature) when human
beings cannot be made into soldiers (D 1.21). And his only discussion of science in The
Prince or the Discourses comes in the context of hunting as an image of war (D 3.39).
Such statements, along with Machiavelli’s dream of a Florentine militia, point to the key
role of the Art of War in Machiavelli’s corpus. But the technical nature of its content, if
nothing else, has proved to be a resilient obstacle for scholars who attempt to master it,
and the book remains the least studied of his major works.
d. Florentine Histories
This is the last of Machiavelli’s major works. It was not his first attempt at penning a
history; Machiavelli had already written a two-part verse history of Italy, I Decennali,
which covers the years 1492-1509. But the Florentine Histories is a greater effort. It is
written in prose and covers the period of time from the decline of the Roman Empire
until the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent in 1434.

The Florentine Histories was commissioned in 1520 by Pope Leo X, on behalf of the

Officers of Study of Florence. The intervention of Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici was key;
the Histories would be dedicated to him and presented to him in 1525, by which time he
had ascended to the papacy as Clement VII. Machiavelli presented eight books to
Clement and did not write any additional ones. They were not published until 1532.

Although Giulio had made Machiavelli the official historiographer of Florence, it is far
from clear that the Florentine Histories are a straightforward historiographical account.
Machiavelli says in the Dedicatory Letter that he is writing of “those times which,
through the death of the Magnificent Lorenzo de’ Medici, brought a change of form
[forma] in Italy.” He says that he has striven to “satisfy everyone” while “not staining
the truth.” In the Preface, Machiavelli says that his intent is to write down “the things
done inside and outside [the city] by the Florentine people” (le cose fatte dentro e fuora
dal popolo fiorentino) and that he changed his original intention in order that “this
history may be better understood in all times.”

Though Book 1 is ostensibly a narrative concerning the time from the decline of the
Roman Empire, in Book 2 he calls Book 1 “our universal treatise” (FH 2.2), thus
implying that it is more than a simple narrative. Books 2, 3, and 4 concern the history of
Florence itself from its origins to 1434. Books 5, 6, 7, and 8 concern Florence’s history
against the background of Italian history.

In Book 1, Machiavelli explores how Italy has become disunited, in no small part due to
causes such as Christianity (FH 1.5) and barbarian invasions (FH 1.9). The rise of
Charlemagne is also a crucial factor (FH 1.11). Machiavelli notes that Christian towns
have been left to the protection of lesser princes (FH 1.39) and even no prince at all in
many cases (FH 1.30), such that they “wither at the first wind” (FH 1.23).

In Book 2, Machiavelli famously calls Florence “[t]ruly a great and wretched city”
(Grande veramente e misera città; FH 2.25). Scholars have long focused upon how
Machiavelli thought Florence was wretched, especially when compared to ancient Rome.
But recent work has begun to examine the ways in which Machiavelli thought that
Florence was great, as well; and on the overlap between the Histories and the Discourse
on Florentine Affairs (which was also commissioned by the Medici around 1520). Book
2 also examines the ways in which the nobility disintegrates into battles between
families (e.g., FH 2.9) and into various splinter factions of Guelfs (supporters of the
Pope) and Ghibellines (supporters of the Emperor). The rise of Castruccio Castracani,
alluded to in Book 1 (e.g., FH 1.26), is further explored (FH 2.26-31), as well as various
political reforms (FH 2.28 and 2.39).

Books 3 and 4 are especially notable for Machiavelli’s analysis of the class conflicts that
exist in every polity (e.g., FH 3.1), and some scholars believe that his treatment here is
more developed and nuanced than his accounts in either The Prince or the Discourses.
Machiavelli also narrates the rise of several prominent statesmen: Salvestro de’ Medici
(FH 3.9); Michele di Lando (FH 3.16-22; compare FH 3.13); Niccolò da Uzzano (FH 4.2-
3); and Giovanni di Bicci de’ Medici (FH 4.3 and 4.10-16), whose family is in the
ascendancy at the end of Book 4.

Books 5 and 6 ostensibly concern the rise of the Medici, and indeed one might view
Cosimo’s ascent as something of the central event of the Histories (see for instance FH
5.4 and 5.14). Yet in fact Machiavelli devotes the majority of Books 5 and 6 not to the
Medici but rather to the rise of mercenary armies in Italy (compare P 12 and D 2.20).
Among the topics that Machiavelli discusses are the famous battle of Anghiari (FH 5.33-
34); the fearlessness of mercenary captains to break their word (FH 6.17); the exploits of
Francesco Sforza (e.g., FH 6.2-18; compare P 1, 7, 12, 14, and 20 as well as D 2.24); and
the propensity of mercenaries to generate wars so that they can profit (FH 6.33; see also
AW 1.51-62).

Books 7 and 8 principally concern the rise of the Medici—in particular Cosimo; his son,
Piero the Gouty; and his son in turn, Lorenzo the Magnificent. Cosimo (though
“unarmed”) dies with great glory and is famous largely for his liberality (FH 7.5) and his
attention to city politics: he prudently and persistently married his sons into wealthy
Florentine families rather than foreign ones (FH 7.6). Cosimo also loved classical
learning to such an extent that he brought John Argyropoulos and Marsilio Ficino to
Florence. Additionally, Cosimo left a strong foundation for his descendants (FH 7.6).
Piero is highlighted mainly for lacking the foresight and prudence of his father; for
fomenting popular resentment; and for being unable to resist the ambition of the great.
Nonetheless, Machiavelli notes Piero’s “virtue and goodness” (FH 7.23). Lorenzo is
noted for his youth (F 7.23); his military prowess (FH 7.12); his desire for renown (FH
8.3); his eventual bodyguard of armed men due to the Pazzi assassination attempt (FH
8.10); and his many amorous endeavors (FH 8.36). The Histories end with the death of
Lorenzo.

The Histories has received renewed attention in recent years, and scholars have

increasingly seen it as not merely historical but also philosophical—in other words, as
complementary to The Prince and the Discourses.

e. Other Works
Machiavelli’s other writings are briefly described here. Every single work is not listed;
instead, emphasis has been placed upon those that seem to have philosophical
resonance.

Some of Machiavelli’s writings treat historical or political topics. In the early 1500s, he
wrote several reports and speeches. They are notable for their topics and for the way in
which they contain precursors to important claims in later works, such as The Prince.
Among other things, Machiavelli wrote on how Duke Valentino killed Vitellozzo Vitelli
(compare P 7); on how Florence tried to suppress the factions in Pistoia (compare P 17);
and how to deal with the rebels of Valdichiana.

In 1520, Machiavelli wrote a fictionalized biography, The Life of Castruccio Castracani.

Many important details of Castruccio’s life are changed and stylized by Machiavelli,
perhaps in the manner of Xenophon’s treatment of Cyrus. The most obvious changes are
found in the final part, where Machiavelli attributes to Castruccio many sayings that are
in fact almost exclusively drawn from the Lives of Diogenes Laertius. Some scholars
believe that Machiavelli’s account is also beholden to the various Renaissance lives of
Tamerlane—for instance, those by Poggio Bracciolini and especially Enea Silvio
Piccolomini, who would become Pope Pius II and whose account became something of a
genre model.
Also around 1520, Machiavelli wrote the Discourse on Florentine Affairs. Recent work
has suggested the proximity in content between this work and the Florentine Histories.
Also of interest is On the Natures of Florentine Men, which is an autograph manuscript
which Machiavelli may have intended as a ninth book of the Florentine Histories.

Toward the end of his tenure in the Florentine government, Machiavelli wrote two
poems in terza rima called I Decennali. The first seems to date from 1504-1508 and
concerns the history of Italy from 1492 to 1503. It is the only work that Machiavelli
published while in office. The second seems to date from around 1512 and concerns the
history of Italy from 1504 to 1509. Among other things, they are precursors to concerns
found in the Florentine Histories.

In general, between 1515 and 1527, Machiavelli turned more consciously toward art. He
wrote a play called Le Maschere (The Masks) which was inspired by
Aristophanes’ Clouds but which has not survived. Three of Machiavelli’s comedies have
survived, however. L’Andria (The Girl from Andros) is a translation of Terence and was
probably written between 1517 and 1520. Mandragola was probably written between
1512 and 1520; was first published in 1524; and was first performed in 1526. While
original, it hearkens to the ancient world especially in how its characters are named
(e.g., Lucrezia, Nicomaco). It is by far the most famous of the three and indeed is one of
the most famous plays of the Renaissance. It contains many typical Machiavellian
themes, the most notable of which are conspiracy and the use of religion as a mask for
immoral purposes. The last of Machiavelli’s plays, Clizia, is an adaptation of Plautus. It
was probably written in the early 1520s. In recent years, scholars have increasingly
treated all three of these plays with seriousness and indeed as philosophical works in
their own right.

In addition to I Decannali, Machiavelli wrote other poems. I Capitoli contains tercets

which are dedicated to friends and which treat the topics of ingratitude, fortune,
ambition, and opportunity (with virtue being notably absent). The Ideal Ruler is in the
form of a pastoral. L’Asino (The Golden Ass) is unfinished and in terza rima; it has been
called an “anti-comedy” and was probably penned around 1517. Between 1510 and 1515,
Machiavelli wrote several sonnets and at least one serenade.

There are some other miscellaneous writings with philosophical import, most of which
survive in autograph copies and which have undetermined dates of composition.
Machiavelli wrote a Dialogue on Language in which he discourses with Dante on
various linguistic concerns, including style and philology. Articles for a Pleasure
Company is a satire on high society and especially religious confraternities. Belfagor is a
short story that portrays, among other things, Satan as a wise and just prince. An
Exhortation to Penitence unsurprisingly concerns the topic of penitence; the sincerity of
this exhortation, however, remains a scholarly question.

Lastly, Machiavelli’s correspondence is worth noting. Some of his letters are diplomatic
dispatches (the so-called “Legations”); others are personal. The Legations date from the
period that Machiavelli worked for the Florentine government (1498-1512). The
personal letters date from 1497 to 1527. Machiavelli’s nephew, Giuliano de’ Ricci, is
responsible for assembling the copies of letters that Machiavelli had made. Particularly
notable among the personal letters are the 13-21 September 1506 letter to
Giovanbattista Soderini, the so-called Ghiribizzi al Soderini (Musings to Soderini); and
the 10 December 1513 letter to Francesco Vettori, wherein Machiavelli first
mentions The Prince.

4. Possible Philosophical Influences on

Machiavelli
Machiavelli insists upon the novelty of his enterprise in several places (e.g., P 15 and D
1.pr). It is true that Machiavelli is particularly innovative and that he often appears to
operate “without any respect” (sanza alcuno rispetto), as he puts it, toward his
predecessors. As a result, some interpreters have gone so far as to call him the
inaugurator of modern philosophy. But all philosophers are to some degree in
conversation with their predecessors, even (or perhaps especially) those who seek to
disagree fundamentally with what has been thought before. Thus, even with a figure as
purportedly novel as Machiavelli, it is worth pondering historical and philosophical
influences.

a. Renaissance Humanism
Although Machiavelli studied ancient humanists, he does not often cite them as
authorities. In his own day, the most widely cited discussion of the classical virtues was
Book 1 of Cicero’s De officiis. But Cicero is never named in The Prince (although
Machiavelli does allude to him via the images of the fox and the lion in P 18-19) and is
named only three times in the Discourses (D 1.4, 1.33, and 1.52; see also D 1.28, 1.56,
and 1.59). Other classical thinkers in the humanist tradition receive similar treatment.
Juvenal is quoted three times (D 2.19, 2.24, and 3.6). Virgil is quoted once in The
Prince (P 17) and three times in the Discourses (D 1.23, 1.54, and 2.24). This trend tends
to hold true for later thinkers, as well. Petrarch, whom Machiavelli particularly admired,
is never mentioned in the Discourses, although Machiavelli does end The Prince with
four lines from Petrarch’s Italia mia (93-96). One may see this relative paucity of
references as suggestive that Machiavelli did not have humanist concerns. But it is
possible to understand his thought as having a generally humanist tenor.

It is worth remembering that the humanists of Machiavelli’s day were almost exclusively
professional rhetoricians. Though they did treat problems in philosophy, they were
primarily concerned with eloquence. The revival of Greek learning in the Italian
Renaissance did not change this concern and in fact even amplified it. New translations
were made of ancient works, including Greek poetry and oratory, and rigorous (and in
some ways newfound) philological concerns were infused with a sense of grace and
nuance not always to be found in translations conducted upon the model of
medieval calques. A notable example is Coluccio Salutati, who otherwise bore a
resemblance to medieval rhetoricians such as Petrus de Vineis but who believed, unlike
the medievals, that the best way to achieve eloquence was to imitate ancient style as
concertedly as possible.

Machiavelli’s writings bear the imprint of his age in this regard. But what exactly is this
imprint? What exactly is Machiavellian eloquence? Fellow philosophers have differed in
their opinions. Adam Smith considered Machiavelli’s tone to be markedly cool and
detached, even in discussions of the egregious exploits of Cesare Borgia. By contrast,
Nietzsche understood Machiavelli’s Italian to be vibrant, almost galloping; and he
thought that The Prince in particular imaginatively transported the reader to
Machiavelli’s Florence and conveyed dangerous philosophical ideas in a boisterous
“allegrissimo.” It is not unusual for interpreters to take one or the other of these stances
today: to see Machiavelli’s works as dry and technical; or to see them as energetic and
vivacious.

Recent work has examined not only Machiavelli’s eloquence but also his images,
metaphors, and turns of phrase. “At a stroke” (ad un tratto) and “without any respect”
(sanza alcuno rispetto) are two characteristic examples that Machiavelli frequently
deploys. There has also been recent work on the many binaries to be found in
Machiavelli’s works—such as virtue / fortune; ordinary / extraordinary; high / low;
manly / effeminate; principality / republic; and secure / ruin. Machiavelli’s wit and his
use of humor more generally have also been the subjects of recent work. Finally,
increasing attention has been paid to other rhetorical devices, such as when Machiavelli
speaks in his own voice; when he uses paradox, irony, and hyperbole; when he modifies
historical examples for his own purposes; when he appears as a character in his
narrative; and so forth. And some scholars have gone so far as to say that The Prince is
not a treatise (compare D 2.1) but rather an oration, which follows the rules of classical
rhetoric from beginning to end (and not just in Chapter 26). In short, it is increasingly a
scholarly trend to claim that one must pay attention not only to what Machiavelli says
but how he says it.

b. Renaissance Platonism
There is still a remarkable gap in the scholarship concerning Machiavelli’s possible
indebtedness to Plato. One reason for this lacuna might be that Plato is never mentioned
in The Prince and is mentioned only once in the Discourses (D 3.6). But there was
certainly a widespread and effervescent revival of Platonism in Florence before and
during Machiavelli’s lifetime.
What exactly is meant here, however? “Platonism” itself is a decidedly amorphous term
in the history of philosophy. There are few, if any, doctrines that all Platonists have held,
as Plato himself did not insist upon the dogmatic character of either his writings or his
oral teaching. To which specific variety of Platonism was Machiavelli exposed? The two
most instrumental figures with respect to transmitting Platonic ideas to Machiavelli’s
Florence were George Gemistos Plethon and Marsilio Ficino.
Plethon visited Florence in 1438 and 1439 due to the Council of Florence, the
seventeenth ecumenical council of the Catholic Church (Plethon himself opposed the
unification of the Greek and Latin Churches). Cosimo de’ Medici was also enormously
inspired by Plethon (as was John Argyropoulos; see FH 7.6); Ficino says in a preface to
ten dialogues of Plato, written for Cosimo, that Plato’s spirit had flown from Byzantium
to Florence. And he says in a preface to his version of Plotinus that Cosimo had been so
deeply impressed with Plethon that the meeting between them had led directly to the
foundation of Ficino’s so-called Platonic Academy.

The son of Cosimo de’ Medici’s physician, Ficino was a physician himself who also
tutored Lorenzo the Magnificent. Ficino became a priest in 1473, and Lorenzo later
made him canon of the Duomo so that he would be free to focus upon his true love:
philosophy. Like Plethon, Ficino believed that Plato was part of an ancient tradition of
wisdom and interpreted Plato through Neoplatonic successors, especially Proclus,
Dionysius the Areopagite, and St. Augustine. Ficino died in 1499 after translating into
Latin an enormous amount of ancient philosophy, including commentaries; and after
writing his own great work, the Platonic Theology, a work of great renown that probably
played no small role in the 1513 Fifth Lateran Council’s promulgation of the dogma of
the immortality of the soul.

In the proem to the Platonic Theology, Ficino calls Plato “the father of philosophers”
(pater philosophorum). In the Florentine Histories and in the only instance of the word
“philosophy” (filosofia) in the major works, Machiavelli calls Ficino himself the “second
father of Platonic philosophy” (secondo padre della platonica filosofia [FH 7.6];
compare FH 6.29, where Stefano Porcari of Rome hoped to be called its “new founder
and second father” [nuovo fondatore e secondo padre]). And Machiavelli calls the
syncretic Platonist Pico della Mirandola “a man almost divine [uomo quasi che divino]”
(FH 8.36). Some scholars believe that Machiavelli critiques both Plato and Renaissance
Platonism in such passages. Others, especially those who have problematized the
sincerity of Machiavelli’s shocking moral claims, believe that this passage suggests a
proximity between Machiavellian and Platonic themes.

Finally, Machiavelli’s father, Bernardo, is the principal interlocutor in Bartolomeo

Scala’s Dialogue on the Laws and appears there as an ardent admirer of Plato.

c. Renaissance Aristotelianism
Aristotle is never mentioned in The Prince and is mentioned only once in
the Discourses in the context of a discussion of tyranny (D 3.26). This has led some
scholars to claim that Machiavelli makes a clean and deliberate break with Aristotelian
philosophy. Other scholars, particularly those who see Machiavelli as a civic humanist,
believe that Aristotle’s notions of republicanism and citizenship inform Machiavelli’s
own republican idiom.

As with the question concerning Plato, the question of whether Aristotle influenced
Machiavelli would seem to depend at least in part on the Aristotelianism to which he
was exposed. Scholars once viewed the Renaissance as the rise of humanism and the
rediscovery of Platonism, on the one hand; and the decline of the prevailing
Aristotelianism of the medieval period, on the other. But, if anything, the reputation of
Aristotle was only strengthened in Machiavelli’s time.

Italian scholastic philosophy was its own animal. Italy was exposed to more Byzantine
influences than any other Western country. Furthermore, unlike a country such as
France, Italy also had its own tradition of culture and inquiry that reached back to
classical Rome. It is simply not the case that Italian Aristotelianism was displaced by
humanism or Platonism. Indeed, perhaps from the late 13th century, and certainly by
the late 14th, there was a healthy tradition of Italian Aristotelianism that stretched far
into the 17th century. The main difference between the Aristotelian scholastics and their
humanist rivals was one of subject matter. Whereas the humanists were rhetoricians
who focused primarily on grammar, rhetoric, and poetry, the scholastics were
philosophers who focused upon logic and natural philosophy. In Machiavelli’s day,
university chairs in logic and natural philosophy were regularly held by Aristotelian
philosophers, and lecturers in moral philosophy regularly based their material on
Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics and Politics. And the Eudemian Ethics was translated
for the first time.

Assessing to what extent Machiavelli was influenced by Aristotle, then, is not as easy as
simply seeing whether he accepts or rejects Aristotelian ideas, because some ideas—or at
least the interpretations of those ideas—are much more compatible with Machiavelli’s
philosophy than others. It seems likely that Machiavelli did not agree fully with the
Aristotelian position on political philosophy. But Alexander of Aphrodisias’
interpretation that the soul was mortal might be much more in line with Machiavelli’s
position, and this view was widely known in Machiavelli’s day. Another candidate might
be Pietro Pomponazzi’s prioritization of the active, temporal life over the contemplative
life. A third candidate might be any of the various and so-called Averroist ideas, many of
which underwent a revival in Machiavelli’s day (especially in places like Padua). Recent
work has explored this final candidate in particular.

d. Xenophon
Xenophon is mentioned only once in The Prince (P 14). However, he is mentioned seven
times in the Discourses (D 2.2, 2.13, 3.20, 3.22 [2x], and 3.39 [2x]), which is more than
any other historian except for Livy. Machiavelli refers the reader explicitly to two works
of Xenophon: the Cyropaedia, which he calls “the life of Cyrus” (la vita di Ciro; P 14; see
also D 2.13); and the Hiero, which he calls by the alternate title, Of Tyranny (De
tyrannide; D 2.2; see also the end of P 21).

In The Prince, Machiavelli lists Cyrus (along with Moses, Romulus, and Theseus) as one
of the four “most excellent men” (P 6). He also names Cyrus—or least Xenophon’s
version of Cyrus (D 3.22)—as the exemplar that Scipio Africanus imitates (P 14).
Machiavelli says that whoever reads “the life of Cyrus” will see in the “life of Scipio” how
much glory Scipio obtained as a result of imitating Cyrus. And he says that Scipio’s
imitation consisted in the chastity, affability, humanity, and liberality outlined by
Xenophon.

This kind and gentle vision of Cyrus was not shared universally by Renaissance Italians.
Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio all characterize Cyrus as a monstrous ruler who was
defeated and killed by Queen Tomyris (one of the stories of Cyrus’ demise which is
related by Herodotus). Although Machiavelli at times offers information about Cyrus
that is compatible with Herodotus’ account (P 6 and 26; AW 6.218), he appears to have a
notable preference for Xenophon’s fictionalized version (as in P 14 above).

Machiavelli’s preference is presumably because of Xenophon’s teaching on appearances.

Xenophon’s Cyrus is chaste, affable, humane, and liberal (P 14). At least two of these
virtues are mentioned in later chapters of The Prince. Liberality is characterized as a
virtue that consumes itself and thus cannot be maintained—unless one spends what
belongs to others, as did “Cyrus, Caesar, and Alexander” (P 17). Similarly, humanity
(umanità) is named as a trait that one may have to disavow in times of necessity (P 18).
For example, Agathocles is characterized by inhumanity (inumanità; P8), and Hannibal
was “inhumanely cruel” (inumana crudeltà; P 17; see also D 3.21-22). Nonetheless,
humanity is also one of the five qualities that Machiavelli explicitly highlights as a useful
thing to appear to have (P 18; see also FH 2.36). Machiavelli makes it clear that
Xenophon’s Cyrus understood the need to deceive (D 2.13). Thus, Machiavelli may have
learned from Xenophon that it is important for rulers (and especially founders) to
appear to be something that they are not. This might hold true whether they are actual
rulers (e.g., “a certain prince of present times” who says one thing and does another; P
18) or whether they are historical examples (e.g., Machiavelli’s altered story of David; P
13).

But it is worth wondering whether Machiavelli does in fact ultimately uphold

Xenophon’s account. Immediately after praising Xenophon’s account of Cyrus at the end
of Prince 14, Machiavelli in Prince 15 lambasts those who have presented imaginary
objects of imitation. He says that he will leave out what is imagined and will instead
discuss what is true. Could it be that Machiavelli puts Xenophon’s Cyrus forward as an
example that is not to be followed? It is worth noting that Scipio, who imitates Cyrus, is
criticized for excessive mercy (or piety; P 17). This example is especially remarkable
since Machiavelli highlights Scipio as someone who was very rare (rarissimo) not only
for his own times but “in the entire memory of things known” (in tutta la memoria delle
cose che si fanno; P 17; compare FH 8.29). It also raises the question as to whether
Machiavelli writes in a manner similar to Xenophon (D 3.22).

Lastly, it is worth noting that Xenophon was a likely influence on Machiavelli’s own
fictionalized and stylized biography, The Life of Castruccio Castracani.

e. Lucretius
Ninth century manuscripts of De rerum natura, Lucretius’ poetic account of Epicurean
philosophy, are extant. However, the text was not widely read in the Middle Ages and
did not obtain prominence until centuries later, when it was rediscovered in 1417 by
Poggio Bracciolini. It seems to have entered broader circulation in the 1430s or 1440s,
and it was first printed in 1473. De rerum natura was one of the two texts which led to a
revival of Epicurean philosophy in Machiavelli’s day, the other being the life of Epicurus
from Book 10 of Diogenes Laertius’ Lives (translated into Latin in 1433). These two
works, along with other snippets of Epicurean philosophy already known from Seneca
and Cicero, inspired many thinkers—such as Ficino and Alberti—to ponder the return of
these ideas.
With respect to Machiavelli, Lucretius was an important influence on Bartolomeo Scala,
a lawyer who was a friend of Machiavelli’s father. Additionally, Lucretius was an
important influence on Marcello di Virgilio Adriani, who was a professor at the
University of Florence; Scala’s successor in the chancery; and the man under whom
Machiavelli was appointed to work in 1498. Adriani deployed Lucretius in his Florentine
lectures on poetry and rhetoric between 1494 and 1515. Machiavelli may have received a
substantial part of his classical education from Adriani and was likely familiar with
Adriani’s lectures, at least.

Lucretius also seems to have been a direct influence on Machiavelli himself. Although
Machiavelli never mentions Lucretius by name, he did hand-copy the entirety of De
rerum natura (drawing largely from the 1495 print edition). Machiavelli’s transcription
was likely completed around 1497 and certainly before 1512. He omits the descriptive
capitula—not original to Lucretius but common in many manuscripts—that subdivide
the six books of the text into smaller sections. He also adds approximately twenty
marginal annotations of his own, almost all of which are concentrated in Book 2.
Machiavelli’s annotations focus on the passages in De rerum natura which concern
Epicurean physics—that is, the way that the cosmos would function in terms of atomic
motion, atomic swerve, free will, and a lack of providential intervention. Recent work
has noted that it is precisely this section of the text that received the least attention from
other Renaissance annotators, many of whom focused instead upon Epicurean views on
love, virtue, and vice.

Recent work has also highlighted stylistic resonances between Machiavelli’s works
and De rerum natura, either directly or indirectly. To give only one example,
Machiavelli says in the Discourses that he desires to “take a path as yet untrodden by
anyone” (non essendo suta ancora da alcuno trita) in order to find “new modes and
orders” (modi ed ordini nuovi; D 1.pr). Lucretius says that he will walk paths not yet
trodden (trita) by any foot in order to gather “new flowers” (novos flores; 4.1-5). Among
other possible connections are P 25 and 26; and D 1.2, 2.pr, and 3.2.

Machiavelli does not seem to have agreed with the classical Epicurean position that one
should withdraw from public life (e.g., D 1.26 and 3.2). But what might Machiavelli have
learned from Lucretius? One possible answer concerns the soul. Machiavelli never treats
the topic of the soul substantively, and he never uses the word at all in either The
Prince or the Discourses (he apparently even went so far as to delete anima from a draft
of the first preface to the Discourses). For Lucretius, the soul is material, perishable, and
made up of two parts: animus, which is located in the chest, and anima, which is spread
throughout the body. But each part, like all things in the cosmos, is composed only of
atoms, invisibly small particles of matter that are constantly in motion. From time to
time, these atoms conglomerate into macroscopic masses. Human beings are such
entities. But when they perish, there is no longer any power to hold the atoms of the soul
together, so those atoms disperse like all others eventually do.

A second possible aspect of Lucretian influence concerns the eternity of the cosmos, on
the one hand, and the constant motion of the world, on the other. Lucretius seems to
have believed that the cosmos was eternal but that the world was not, whereas some
thinkers in Machiavelli’s day believed that both the cosmos and the world were eternal.
Machiavelli ponders the question of the eternity of the world (D 2.5). He at times claims
that the world has always remained the same (D 1.pr and 2.pr; see also 1.59). He also at
times claims that worldly things are in motion (P 10 and FH 5.1; compare P 25) and that
human things in particular are “always in motion” (D 1.6 and 2.pr).

As recent work has shown, reading Lucretius in the Renaissance was a dangerous game.
By Machiavelli’s time, Petrarch had already described Epicurus as a philosopher who
was held in popular disrepute; and Dante had already suggested that those who deny the
afterlife belong with “Epicurus and all his followers” (Inferno 10.13-15). In 1513, the
Fifth Lateran Council condemned those who believed that the soul was mortal; those
who believed in the unity of the intellect; and those who believed in the eternity of the
world. It also made belief in the afterlife mandatory. Lucretius was last printed in the
Italian Renaissance in 1515 and was prohibited from being read in schools by the
Florentine synod in late 1516 / early 1517.

f. Savonarola
There is no comprehensive monograph on Machiavelli and Savonarola. While there has
been some interesting recent work, particularly with respect to Florentine institutions,
the connection between the two thinkers remains a profitable area of research.

Girolamo Savonarola was a Dominican friar who came to Florence in 1491 and who
effectively ruled the city from 1494 to 1498 from the pulpits of San Marco and Santa
Reparata. He was renowned for his oratorical ability, his endorsement of austerity, and
his concomitant condemnation of excess and luxury. The effectiveness of his message
can be seen in the stark difference between Botticelli’s Primavera and his later, post-
Savonarolan Calumny of Apelles; or in the fact that Michelangelo felt compelled to toss
his own easel paintings onto the so-called bonfires of the vanities. Savonarola’s
influence in Florentine politics grew to immensity, and Pope Alexander VI would
eventually excommunicate Savonarola after a lengthy dispute. As a result, Florence
would hang and then burn Savonarola (with two others) at the stake, going so far as to
toss his ashes in the Arno afterward so that no relics of him could be kept.
Machiavelli attended several of Savonarola’s sermons, which may be significant since he
did not seem inclined otherwise to attend services regularly. There are interesting
possible points of contact in terms of the content of these sermons, such as Savonarola’s
understanding of Moses; Savonarola’s prediction of Charles VIII as a new Cyrus; and
Savonarola’s use of the Biblical story of the flood.

In The Prince, Machiavelli discusses Savonarola by name only a single time, saying that
he is an “unarmed prophet” who has been ruined because he does not have a way either
to make believers remain firm or to make unbelievers believe (P 6). Machiavelli later
acknowledges that Savonarola spoke the truth when he claimed that “our sins” were the
cause of Charles VIII’s invasion of Italy, although he does not name him and in fact
disagrees with Savonarola as to which sins are relevant (P 12; compare D 2.18). In
the Discourses, Machiavelli is more expansive and explicit in his treatment of the friar.
Savonarola convinces the Florentines, no naïve people, that he talks with God (D 1.11);
helps to reorder Florence but loses reputation after he fails to uphold a law that he
fiercely supported (D 1.45); foretells the coming of Charles VIII into Florence (D 1.56);
and understands what Moses understands, which is that one must kill envious men who
oppose one’s plans (D 3.30). Machiavelli conspicuously omits any explicit mention of
Savonarola in the Florentine Histories.
It is also worth noting two other important references in Machiavelli’s corpus. The
lengthiest discussion of Savonarola is Machiavelli’s 9 March 1498 letter to Ricciardo
Becchi. Many commentators have read this letter as a straightforward condemnation of
Savonarola’s hypocrisy, but some recent work has stressed the letter’s rhetorical
nuances. To give only one example, Machiavelli discusses how Savonarola colors his
“lies” (bugie). While it is true that Machiavelli does use bugie only in a negative context in
the Discourses (D 1.14 and 3.6), it is difficult to maintain that Machiavelli is opposed to
lying in any principled way.
Secondly, in his 17 May 1521 letter to Francesco Guicciardini, Machiavelli has been
interpreted as inveighing against Savonarola’s hypocrisy. But, again, nuances and
context may be important. Machiavelli does indeed implicate two other friars: Ponzo for
insanity and Alberto for hypocrisy. But he simply calls Savonarola versuto, which means
something like “crafty” or “versatile” and which is a quality that he never denounces
elsewhere in his corpus.
g. The Bible and Its Traditions
To what extent the Bible influenced Machiavelli remains an important question. He
laments that histories are no longer properly read or understood (D 1.pr); speaks of
reading histories with judicious attention (sensatamente; D 1.23); and implies that the
Bible is a history (D 2.5). Furthermore, he explicitly speaks of reading the Bible in this
careful manner (again sensatamente; D 3.30)—the only time in The Prince or
the Discourses that he mentions “the Bible” (la Bibbia). Recent work has explored what
it might have meant for Machiavelli to read the Bible in this way. Additionally, recent
work has explored the extent to which Machiavelli engaged with the Jewish, Christian,
and Islamic traditions.

Machiavelli quotes from the Bible only once in his major works, referring to someone “. .
. who filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty” (D 1.26; Luke
1:53; compare I Samuel 2:5-7). The passage is from Mary’s Magnificat and refers to
God. Machiavelli, however, uses the passage to refer to David.

David is one of two major Biblical figures in Machiavelli’s works. Elsewhere in

the Discourses, Machiavelli attributes virtue to David and says that he was undoubtedly
a man very excellent in arms, learning, and judgment (D 1.19). In a digression in The
Prince, Machiavelli refers to David as “a figure of the Old Testament” (una figura del
Testamento vecchio; P 13). Machiavelli offers a gloss of the story of David and Goliath
which differs in numerous and substantive ways from the Biblical account (see I Samuel
17:32-40, 50-51).

Moses is the other major Biblical figure in Machiavelli’s works. He is mentioned at least
five times in The Prince (P 6 [4x] and 26) and at least five times in the Discourses (D 1.1,
1.9, 2.8 [2x], and 3.30). Moses is the only one of the four most excellent men of Chapter
6 who is said to have a “teacher” (precettore; compare Achilles in P 18). In
the Discourses, Moses is a lawgiver who is compelled to kill “infinite men” due to their
envy and in order to push his laws and orders forward (D 3.30; see also Exodus 32:25-
28).

Machiavelli sparsely treats the “ecclesiastical principality” (P 11) and the “Christian
pontificate” (P 11 and 19). He calls Ferdinand of Aragon “the first king among the
Christians” (P 21) and says that Cosimo Medici’s death is mourned by “all citizens and
all the Christian princes” (FH 7.6).

Chapter 6 of The Prince is famous for its distinction between armed and unarmed
prophets. In Chapter 26, Machiavelli refers to extraordinary occurrences “without
example” (sanza essemplo): the opening of the sea, the escort by the cloud, the water
from the stone, and the manna from heaven. It has long been noted that Machiavelli’s
ordering of these events does not follow the order given in Exodus (14:21, 13:21, 17:6,
and 16:4, respectively). However, recent work has noted that it does in fact follow
exactly the order of Psalms 78:13-24.

Lastly, scholars have recently begun to examine Machiavelli’s connections to Islam. For
example, some scholars believe that Machiavelli’s notion of a sect (setta) is imported
from the Averroeist vocabulary. Machiavelli speaks at least twice of the prophet
Mohammed (FH 1.9 and 1.19), though conspicuously not when he discusses armed
prophets (P 6). He discusses various Muslim princes—most importantly Saladin (FH
1.17), who is said to have virtue. Machiavelli compares the Pope with the Ottoman
“Turk” and the Egyptian “Sultan” (P 19; compare P 11). He also compares “the Christian
pontificate” with the Janissary and Mameluk regimes predominant under Sunni Islam
(P 19; see also P 11). On occasion he refers to the Turks as “infidels” (infideli; e.g., P 13
and FH 1.17).

5. Contemporary Interpretations
The main aim of this article is to help readers find a foothold in the primary literature. A
second, related aim is to help readers do so in the secondary literature.

In the spirit of bringing “common benefit to everyone” (D 1.pr), what follows is a rough
outline of the scholarly landscape. It has followed the practice of many recent
Machiavelli scholars—for whom it is not uncommon, especially in English, to say that
the views on Machiavelli can be divided into a handful of camps. Many of the differences
between these camps appear to reduce to the question of how to fit The Prince and
the Discourses together. Five are outlined below, although some scholars would of
course put that number either higher or lower. Readers who are interested in
understanding the warp and woof of the scholarship in greater detail are encouraged to
consult the recent and more fine-grained accounts of Catherine Zuckert (2017), John T.
Scott (2016), and Erica Benner (2013).

The first camp takes The Prince to be a satirical or ironic work. The 16th century Italian
jurist Alberico Gentili was one of the first interpreters to take up the position that The
Prince is a satire on ruling. Rousseau and Spinoza in their own respective ways also
seemed to hold this interpretation. Members of this camp typically argue that
Machiavelli is a republican of various sorts and place special emphasis upon his
rhetoric. The most notable recent member of this camp is Erica Benner (2017a, 2017b,
2013, and 2009), who argues that The Prince is thoroughly ironic and that Machiavelli
presents a shocking moral teaching in order to subvert it.

The second camp also places emphasis upon Machiavelli’s republicanism and thus sits
in proximity to the first camp. However, members of this camp do not typically argue
that The Prince is satirical or ironic. They do typically argue that The Prince presents a
different teaching than does the Discourses; and that, as an earlier work, The Prince is
not as comprehensive or mature of a writing as the Discourses. This camp also places
special emphasis upon Machiavelli’s historical context. The most notable member of this
camp is Quentin Skinner (2017, 2010, and 1978). J. G. A. Pocock (2010 and 1975), Hans
Baron (1988 and 1966), and David Wootton (2016) could be reasonably placed in this
camp. Maurizio Viroli (2016, 2014, 2010, 2000, and 1998) could also be reasonably
placed here, though he puts additional emphasis on The Prince.

The third camp argues for the unity of Machiavelli’s teaching and furthermore argues
that The Prince and the Discourses approach the truth from different directions. In
other words, members of this camp typically claim that Machiavelli presents the same
teaching or vision in each book but from different starting points. The most notable
members of this camp are Isaiah Berlin (1981 [1958]), Sheldon Wolin (1960), and
Benedetto Croce (1925).

The fourth camp also argues for the unity of Machiavelli’s teaching and thus sits in
proximity to the third camp. However, members of this camp do not typically argue
that The Prince and Discourses begin from different starting points. And while they
typically argue for the overall coherence of Machiavelli’s corpus, they do not appear to
hold a consensus regarding the status of Machiavelli’s republicanism. The most notable
member of this camp is Leo Strauss (1958). Harvey C. Mansfield (2017, 2016, 1998, and
1979), Catherine Zuckert (2017 and 2016), John T. Scott (2016, 2011, and 1994), Vickie
Sullivan (2006, 1996, and 1994), Nathan Tarcov (2015, 2014, 2013a, 2013b, 2007, 2006,
2003, 2000, and 1982), and Clifford Orwin (2016 and 1978) could be reasonably placed
here.

The fifth camp is hermeneutically beholden to Hegel, which seems at first glance to be
an anachronistic approach. But Hegel’s notion of dialectic was itself substantially
beholden to Proclus’ commentary on the Parmenides—a work which was readily
available to Machiavelli through Ficino’s translation and which was enormously
influential on Renaissance Platonism in general. The most notable member of this camp
is Claude Lefort (2012 [1972]). Miguel Vatter (2017, 2013, and 2000) could be
reasonably placed here and additionally deserves mention for his familiarity with the
secondary literature in Spanish (an unusual achievement for Machiavelli scholars who
write in English). Additionally, interpreters who are indirectly beholden to Hegel’s
dialectic, via Marx, could also be reasonably placed here. Miguel Abensour (2011
[2004]), Louis Althusser (1995), and Antonio Gramsci (1949) are examples.

6. References and Further Reading

Below are listed some of the more well-known works in the scholarship, as well as some
that the author has found profitable but which are perhaps not as well-known. They are
arranged as much as possible in accordance with the outline of this article. Given the
article’s aim, the focus is almost exclusively upon works that are available in English. It
goes without saying that there are many important books that are not mentioned.
Regarding Machiavelli’s life, there are many interesting and recent biographies. Some
examples include Benner (2017a), Celenza (2015), Black (2013 and 2010), Atkinson
(2010), Skinner (2010), Viroli (2010, 2000, and 1998), de Grazia (1989), and Ridolfi
(1964). Vivanti (2013) offers an intellectual biography. Pesman (2010) captures
Machiavelli’s work for the Florentine republic. Butters (2010), Cesati (1999), and
Najemy (1982) discuss Machiavelli’s relationship with the Medici. Landon (2013)
examines Machiavelli’s relationship with Lorenzo di Filippo Strozzi. Masters (1999 and
1998) examines Machiavelli’s relationship with Leonardo da Vinci.

For an understanding of Machiavelli’s overall position, Zuckert (2017) is the most recent
and comprehensive account of Machiavelli’s corpus, especially with respect to his
politics. Other good places to begin are Nederman (2009), Viroli (1998), Mansfield
(2017, 2016, and 1998), Skinner (2017 and 1978), Prezzolini (1967), Voegelin (1951), and
Foster (1941). Johnston, Urbinati, and Vergara (2017) and Fuller (2016) are recent,
excellent collections. Lefort (2012) and Strauss (1958) are daunting and difficult but also
well worth the attempt.

Skinner (2017), Benner (2009), and Mansfield (1998) discuss virtue. Spackman (2010)
and Pitkin (1984) discuss fortune, particularly with respect to the image of fortune as a
woman. Saxonhouse (2016), Tolman Clarke (2005), and Falco (2004) discuss
Machiavelli’s understanding of women. Benner (2017b and 2009) and Cox (2010) treat
Machiavelli’s ethics.

On religion, see Parsons (2016), Tarcov (2014), Palmer (2010a and 2010b), Lynch
(2010), and Lukes (1984). Biasiori and Marcocci (2018) is a recent collection concerning
Machiavelli and Islam. Nederman (1999) examines free will. Blanchard (1996) discusses
sight and touch.

Rahe (2017) and Parel (1992) discuss Machiavelli’s understanding of humors. Regarding
various other political themes, including republicanism, see McCormick (2011), Slade
(2010), Barthas (2010), Rahe (2017, 2008, and 2005), Patapan (2006), Sullivan (2006
and 1996), Forde (1995 and 1992), Bock (1990), Hulliung (1983), Skinner (1978), and
Pocock (1975).

Recent works concerning The Prince include Benner (2017b and 2013), Scott (2016),
Parsons (2016), Viroli (2014), Vatter (2013), Rebhorn (2010 and 1998), M. Palmer
(2001), and de Alvarez (1999). Tarcov’s essays (2015, 2014, 2013a, 2013b, 2007, 2006,
2003, 2000, and 1982) are especially fine-grained analyses. Connell (2013)
discusses The Prince’s composition. On deception, see Dietz (1984) and Langton and
Dietz (1987). On Cesare Borgia, see Orwin (2016) and Scott and Sullivan (1994).

Recent works concerning the Discourses include Duff (2011), Najemy (2010), Pocock

(2010), Hörnqvist (2004), Vatter (2000), Coby (1999), and Sullivan (1996). Mansfield
(1979) and Walker (1950) are the two notable commentaries.
 Regarding the Art of War, see Hörnqvist (2010), Lynch (2010 and 2003), Lukes (2004),
and Colish (1998).

Regarding the Florentine Histories, see McCormick (2017), Jurdjevic (2014), Lynch

(2012), Cabrini (2010), and Mansfield (1998).

Regarding Machiavelli’s poetry and plays, see Ascoli and Capodivacca (2010), Martinez
(2010), Kahn (2010 and 1994), Atkinson and Sices (2007 [1985]), Patapan (2003),
Sullivan (2000), and Ascoli and Kahn (1993).

Anyone who wants to learn more about the intellectual context of the Italian
Renaissance should begin with the many writings of Kristeller (e.g., 1979, 1961, and
1965), whose work is a model of scholarship. See also Hankins (2000), Cassirer (2010
[1963]), and Burke (1998).

Regarding humanist educational treatises, see Kallendorf (2008). Regarding Ficino, see
the I Tatti series edited by James Hankins (especially 2015, 2012, 2008, and 2001).
Hankins’ examination of the “myth” of the Platonic Academy in Florence is also worth
mentioning (1991). Regarding Xenophon, see Nadon (2001) and Newell (1988).
Regarding Lucretius, see A. Palmer (2014), Brown (2010a and 2010b), and Rahe
(2008). Norbrook, Harrison, and Hardie (2016) is a recent collection concerning
Lucretius’ influence upon early modernity. The most comprehensive recent treatment of
Savonarola can be found in Jurdjevic (2014).

Much of Machiavelli’s important personal correspondence has been collected in

Atkinson and Sices (1996). Najemy has examined Machiavelli’s correspondence with
Vettori (1993).

Those interested in the Italian scholarship should begin with the seminal work of Sasso
(1993, 1987, and 1967). Careful studies of Machiavelli’s word choice can be found in
Chiappelli (1974, 1969, and 1952).

Lastly, Ruffo-Fiore (1990) has compiled an annotated bibliography of Machiavelli

scholarship from 1935 to 1988.

a. Primary Sources
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Art of War, ed. and trans. Christopher Lynch. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2003.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. L’Arte della guerra; scritti politici minori, ed. Jean-Jacques Marchand, Denis
Fachard, and Giorgio Masi. Rome: Salerno Editrice, 2001.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Chief Works and Others. Three volumes, trans. Allan Gilbert. Durham:
Duke University Press, 1999 [1958].
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Clizia, trans. Daniel T. Gallagher. Long Grove: Waveland Press, 1996.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Comedies of Machiavelli, ed. and trans. David Sices and James B.
Atkinson. Indianapolis: Hackett, 2007 [1985].
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Discourses on Livy, trans. Harvey C. Mansfield and Nathan Tarcov. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1998 [1996].
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio, ed. Giorgio Inglese. Milano: Bur
Rizzoli, 1984. Digitized 2011.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Florentine Histories, trans. Laura F. Banfield and Harvey C. Mansfield.
Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Machiavelli and Friends: Their Personal Correspondence, ed. and trans. James
B. Atkinson and David Sices. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1996.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Mandragola, trans. Mera J. Flaumenhaft. Long Grove: Waveland Press, 1981.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Prince with Related Documents, trans. and ed. William J. Connell. Boston:
Bedford / St. Martin’s Press, 2005.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. The Prince, second edition, trans. Harvey C. Mansfield. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1998.
 Machiavelli, Niccolò. Il Principe, ed. Giorgio Inglese. Torino: Giulio Einaudi, 2013.Machiavelli,
Niccolò. Tutte le opere. Florence: Sansoni, 1971.
b. Secondary Sources
 Abensour, Miguel. Democracy Against the State: Marx and the Machiavellian Moment. Cambridge:
Polity Press, 2011 [2004]).
 Alberti, Leon Battista. On Painting. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966 [1956].
 Althusser, Louis. “Machiavel et nous.” In crits philosophiques et politiques, 42-168. Paris: Stock /
IMEC, 1995.
 Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition, second edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998
[1958].
 Ascoli, Albert Russell, and Angela Matilde Capodivacca. “Machiavelli and Poetry.” In The
Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 190-205. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010.
 Ascoli, Albert Russell, and Victoria Kahn, eds. Machiavelli and the Discourse of Literature. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1993.
 Atkinson, James B. “Niccolò Machiavelli: A Portrait.” In The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli,
ed. John M. Najemy, 14-30. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Baron, Hans. In Search of Florentine Civic Humanism. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988.
 Baron, Hans. The Crisis of the Early Italian Renaissance. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966.
 Barthas, Jérémie. “Machiavelli in political thought from the age of revolutions to the present.” In The
Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 256-273. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010.
 Benner, Erica. Be Like the Fox: Machiavelli’s Lifelong Quest for Freedom. New York: W.W. Norton
& Company, 2017a.
 Benner, Erica. “The Necessity to Be Not-Good: Machiavelli’s Two Realisms.” In Machiavelli on
Liberty & Conflict, ed. David Johnston, Nadia Urbinati, and Camila Vergara, 164-185. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 2017b.
 Benner, Erica. Machiavelli’s Prince: A New Reading. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013.
 Benner, Erica. Machiavelli’s Ethics. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009.
 Berlin, Isaiah. “The Originality of Machiavelli.” In Against the Current: Essays in the History of
Ideas, 25-79. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981 [1958].
 Biasiori, Lucio, and Giuseppe Marcocci, eds. Machiavelli, Islam and the East: Reorienting the
Foundations of Modern Political Thought. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018.
 Blanchard, Kenneth C. “Being, Seeing, and Touching: Machiavelli’s Modification of Platonic
Epistemology.” The Review of Metaphysics 49, no. 3 (1996): 577-607.
 Black, Robert. Machiavelli. London: Routledge, 2013.
 Black, Robert. “Machiavelli in the Chancery.” In The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, 31-47.
Edited by John M. Najemy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Bock, Gisela, Quentin Skinner, and Maurizio Viroli, eds. Machiavelli and Republicanism. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1990.
 Brown, Alison. “Philosophy and Religion in Machiavelli.” In The Cambridge Companion to
Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 157-172. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010a.
 Brown, Alison. The Return of Lucretius to Renaissance Florence. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 2010b.
 Burke, Peter. The European Renaissance: Centres and Peripheries. Oxford: Blackwell, 1998.
 Butters, Humfrey. “Machiavelli and the Medici.” In The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed.
John M. Najemy, 64-79. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Cabrini, Anna Maria. “Machiavelli’s Florentine Histories.” In The Cambridge Companion to
Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 128-143. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Cassirer, Ernst. The Individual and the Cosmos in Renaissance Philosophy. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2010 [1963].
 Celenza, Christopher S. Machiavelli: A Portrait. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015.
 Cesati, Franco. The Medici. Florence: Mandragora, 1999.
 Chabod, Federico. Machiavelli and the Renaissance, trans. David Moore. London: Bowes and Bowes,
1960.
 Chiappelli, Fredi. Machiavelli e La ‘Lingua Fiorentina.’ Bologna: Massimiliano Boni, 1974.
 Chiappelli, Fredi. Nuovi Studi sul Linguaggio del Machiavelli. Florence: Le Monnier, 1969.
 Chiappelli, Fredi. Studi sul Linguaggio del Machiavelli. Florence: Le Monnier, 1952.
 Clarke, Michelle Tolman. “On the Woman Question in Machiavelli.” The Review of Politics 67, no. 2
(2005): 229-256.
 Coby, Patrick. Machiavelli’s Romans. Lanham: Lexington Books, 1999.
 Colish, Marcia L. “Machiavelli’s Art of War: A Reconsideration.” Renaissance Quarterly 51, no. 4
(1998): 1151-1168.
 Connell, William J. “Dating The Prince: Beginnings and Endings.” The Review of Politics 75, no. 4
(2013): 497-514.
 Cox, Virginia. “Rhetoric and Ethics in Machiavelli.” In The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli,
ed. John M. Najemy, 173-189. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Croce, Benedetto. Elementi di Politica. Bari: Laterza, 1925.
 De Alvarez, Leo Paul. The Machiavellian Enterprise: A Commentary on The Prince. DeKalb:
Northern Illinois University Press, 2008 [1999].
 De Grazia, Sebastian. Machiavelli in Hell. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989.
 Dietz, Mary. “Trapping the Prince: Machiavelli and the Politics of Deception.” The American
Political Science Review 80, no. 3 (1986): 777-799.
 Duff, Alexander S. “Republicanism and the Problem of Ambition: The Critique of Cicero in
Machiavelli’s Discourses.” The Journal of Politics 73, No. 4 (2011): 980-992.
 Falco, Maria J., ed. Feminist Interpretations of Machiavelli. University Park: Penn State University
Press, 2004.
 Ficino, Marsilio. On Dionysius the Areopagite Volume 1, ed. and trans. Michael J.B. Allen.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015.
 Ficino, Marsilio. Commentaries on Plato, Volume 2, Part 1, ed. and trans. Maude Vanhaelen.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2012.
 Ficino, Marsilio. Commentaries on Plato, Volume 1, ed. and trans. Michael J. B. Allen. Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 2008.
 Ficino, Marsilio. Platonic Theology, Volume 1, ed. James Hankins and William Bowen and trans.
Michael J. B. Allen. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001.
 Forde, Steven. “International Realism and the Science of Politics: Thucydides, Machiavelli, and
Neorealism.” International Studies Quarterly 39, no. 2 (1995): 141-160.
 Forde, Steven. “Varieties of Realism: Thucydides and Machiavelli.” The Journal of Politics 54, no. 2
(1992): 372-393.
 Foster, Michael. Masters of Political Thought, Volume 1: Plato to Machiavelli. Boston: Houghton
Mifflin Company, 1941.
 Fuller, Timothy, ed. Machiavelli’s Legacy:  The Prince After Five Hundred Years. Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015.
 Gilbert, Allan H. Machiavelli’s Prince and Its Forerunners. Durham: Duke University Press, 1938.
 Gilbert, Felix. Machiavelli and Guicciardini: Politics and History in Sixteenth-Century Florence.
New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1984.
 Gilbert, Felix. History, Choice, and Commitment. Cambridge: The Belknap Press, 1977.
 Gramsci, Antonio. Note sul Machiavelli, sulla politica e sullo stato moderno. Torino: Einaudi, 1949.
 Hankins, James, ed. Renaissance Civic Humanism: Reappraisals and Reflections. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2000.
 Hankins, James. “The Myth of the Platonic Academy of Florence.” Renaissance Quarterly 44, no. 3
(1991): 429-475.
 Hörnqvist, Mikael. “Machiavelli’s Military Project and the Art of War.” In The Cambridge
Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 112-127. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Hörnqvist, Mikael. Machiavelli and Empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.
 Hulliung, Mark. Citizen Machiavelli. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983.
 Jurdjevic, Mark. A Great and Wretched City: Promise and Failure in Machiavelli’s Florentine
Political Thought. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014.
 Kahn, Victoria. “Machiavelli’s Afterlife and Reputation to the Eighteenth Century.” In The
Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 239-255. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010.
 Kahn, Victoria. Machiavellian Rhetoric: From the Counter-Reformation to Milton. Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1994.
 Kallendorf, Craig W., ed. and trans. Humanist Educational Treatises. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 2008 [2002].
 Kristeller, Paul Oskar. Renaissance Thought and Its Sources, ed. Michael Mooney. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1979.
 Kristeller, Paul Oskar. Renaissance Thought II: Papers on Humanism and the Arts. New York: Harper
and Row, 1965.
 Kristeller, Paul Oskar. Renaissance Thought: The Classic, Scholastic, and Humanist Strains. New
York: Harper and Row, 1961.
 Landon, William J. Lorenzo de Filippo Strozzi and  Niccoló Machiavelli. Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 2013.
 Langton, John, and Mary Dietz. “Machiavelli’s Paradox: Trapping or Teaching the Prince.” The
American Political Science Review 81, no. 4 (1987): 1277-1288.
 Lukes, Timothy J. “Martialing Machiavelli: Reassessing the Military Reflections.” Journal of
Politics 66, no. 4 (2004): 1089-1108.
 Lukes, Timothy J. “Lionizing Machiavelli.” The American Political Science Review 95, no. 3 (2001):
561-75.
 Lukes, Timothy J. “To Bamboozle With Goodness: The Political Advantages of Christianity in the
Thought of Machiavelli.” Renaissance and Reformation 8, no. 4 (1984): 266-77.
 Lynch, Christopher. “War and Foreign Affairs in Machiavelli’s Florentine Histories.” The Review of
Politics 74, no. 1 (2012): 1-26.
 Lynch, Christopher. “The Ordine Nuovo of Machiavelli’s Arte della Guerra: Reforming Ancient
Matter.” History of Political Thought 31, no. 3 (2010): 407-425.
 Lynch, Christopher. “Machiavelli on Reading the Bible Judiciously.” Hebraic Political Studies 1, no.
2 (2006): 162-185.
 Lefort, Claude. Machiavelli in the Making, trans. Michael B. Smith. Evanston: Northwestern
University Press, 2012.
 Major, Rafael. “A New Argument for Morality: Machiavelli and the Ancients.” Political Research
Quarterly 60, no. 2 (2007): 171-179.
 Mansfield, Harvey C. “Machiavelli on Necessity.” In Machiavelli on Liberty & Conflict, ed. David
Johnston, Nadia Urbinati, and Camila Vergara, 39-57. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017.
 Mansfield, Harvey C. “Machiavelli’s Enterprise.” In Machiavelli’s Legacy, ed. Timothy Fuller, 11-33.
Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016.
 Mansfield, Harvey C. Machiavelli’s Virtue. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998 [1996].
 Mansfield, Harvey C. Machiavelli’s New Modes and Orders: A Study of the  Discourses on Livy.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979.
 Martinez, Ronald L. “Comedian, Tragedian: Machiavelli and Traditions of Renaissance Theater.”
In The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 206-222. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2010.
 Masters, Roger D. Fortune is a River: Leonardo da Vinci and Niccoló Machiavelli’s Magnificent
Dream to Change the Course of Florentine History. New York: Free Press, 1999.
 Masters, Roger D. Machiavelli, Leonardo, and the Science of Power. Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 1998.
 McCormick, John P. “On the Myth of a Conservative Turn in Machiavelli’s Florentine Histories.”
In Machiavelli on Liberty & Conflict, ed. David Johnston, Nadia Urbinati, and Camila Vergara, 330-351.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017.
 McCormick, John P. Machiavellian Democracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011.
 Nadon, Christopher. Xenophon’s Prince: Republic and Empire in the Cyropaedia. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2001.
 Najemy, John A. “Society, Class, and State in Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy.” In The Cambridge
Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 96-111. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Najemy, John M. Between Friends: Discourses of Power and Desire in the Machiavelli-Vettori
Letters of 1513-1515. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993.
 Nederman, Cary J. Machiavelli: A Beginner’s Guide. London: Oneworld, 2009.
 Nederman, Cary J. “Amazing Grace: Fortune, God, and Free Will in Machiavelli’s Thought.” Journal
of the History of Ideas 60, no. 4 (1999): 617-638.
 Newell, Waller R. Tyranny: A New Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.
 Newell, Waller R. “Machiavelli and Xenophon on Princely Rule: A Double-Edged Encounter.” The
Journal of Politics 50, no. 1 (1988): 108-130.
 Norbrook, David, Stephen Harrison, and Philip Hardie, eds. Lucretius and the Early Modern. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2016.
 Orwin, Clifford. “The Riddle of Cesare Borgia and the Legacy of Machiavelli’s Prince.”
In Machiavelli’s Legacy, ed. Timothy Fuller, 156-170. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016.
 Orwin, Clifford. “Machiavelli’s Unchristian Charity.” The American Political Science Review 72, no.
4 (1978): 1217-1228.
 Palmer, Ada. Reading Lucretius in the Renaissance. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014.
 Palmer, Michael. Masters and Slaves: Revisioned Essays in Political Philosophy. Lanham: Lexington
Books, 2001.
 Parel, Anthony J. The Machiavellian Cosmos. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992.
 Parsons, William B. Machiavelli’s Gospel: The Critique of Christianity in The Prince. Rochester:
University of Rochester Press, 2016.
 Patapan, Haig. Machiavelli in Love: The Modern Politics of Love and Fear. Lanham: Lexington
Books, 2007.
 Patapan, Haig. “I Capitoli: Machiavelli’s New Theogony.” The Review of Politics 65, no. 2 (2003):
185-207.
 Pesman, Roslyn. “Machiavelli, Piero Soderini, and the Republic of 1494-1512.” In The Cambridge
Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 48-63. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Pitkin, Hanna Fenichel. Fortune is a Woman: Gender and Politics in the Thought
of Niccolò Machiavelli. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984.
 Pocock, J. G. A. “Machiavelli and Rome: The Republic as Ideal and as History.” In The Cambridge
Companion to Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 144-156. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Pocock, J. G. A. The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic
Republican Tradition. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975.
 Prezzolini, Giuseppe. Machiavelli. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1967.
 Ruffo-Fiore, Silvia. Niccolò Machiavelli: An Annotated Bibliography of Modern Criticism and
Scholarship. New York: Greenwood Press, 1990.
 Rahe, Paul A. “Machiavelli and the Modern Tyrant.” In Machiavelli on Liberty & Conflict, ed. David
Johnston, Nadia Urbinati, and Camila Vergara, 207-233. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017.
 Rahe, Paul A. Against Throne and Altar: Machiavelli and Political Theory under the English
Republic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.
 Rahe, Paul A., ed. Machiavelli’s Liberal Republican Legacy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2005.
 Rebhorn, Wayne A. “Machiavelli’s Prince in the Epic Tradition.” In The Cambridge Companion to
Machiavelli, ed. John M. Najemy, 80-95. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Rebhorn, Wayne A. Foxes and Lions: Machiavelli’s Confidence Men. Ithaca: Cornell University
Press, 1988.
 Ridolfi, Roberto. The Life of Niccolò Machiavelli, trans. Cecil Grayson. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1964.
 Sasso, Gennaro. Niccolò Machiavelli. Bologna: Il Mulino, 1993.
 Sasso, Gennaro. Machiavelli e gli antichi e altri saggi. Milan: Ricciardi, 1987.
 Sasso, Gennaro. Studi su Machiavelli. Naples: Morano, 1967.
 Savonarola, Girolamo. Apologetic Writings, ed. and trans. M. Michèle Mulchahey. Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 2015.
 Savonarola, Girolamo. Trattato sul Governo di Firenze. Florence: Franco Cesati Editore, 2006.
 Savonarola, Girolamo. Selected Writings of Girolamo Savonarola: Religion and Politics, 1490-
1498, ed. and trans. Anne Borelli and Maria Pastore Passoro. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.
 Savonarola, Girolamo. Prison Meditations on Psalms 51 and 31, ed. and trans. John Patrick
Donnelly. Milwaukee, Marquette Press, 2011 [1994].
 Savonarola, Girolamo. The Triumph of the Cross. London: Sands and Co., 1901.
 Saxonhouse, Arlene W. “Machiavelli’s Women.” In Machiavelli’s Legacy, ed. Timothy Fuller, 70-86.
Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016.
 Scott, John T. The Routledge Guidebook to Machiavelli’s  The Prince. London: Routledge, 2016.
 Scott, John T., and Vickie B. Sullivan. “Patricide and the Plot of The Prince: Cesare Borgia and
Machiavelli’s Italy.” The American Political Science Review 88, no. 4 (1994): 887-900.
 Skinner, Quentin. “Machiavelli and the Misunderstanding of Princely Virtù.” In Machiavelli on
Liberty & Conflict, ed. David Johnston, Nadia Urbinati, and Camila Vergara, 139-163. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 2017.
 Skinner, Quentin. Machiavelli. New York: Sterling Publishing, 2010 [1981].
 Skinner, Quentin. The Renaissance, vol. 1 of The Foundations of Modern Political Thought.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978.
 Slade, Francis. “Two Versions of Political Philosophy: Teleology and the Conceptual Genesis of the
Modern State.” In Natural Moral Law in Contemporary Society, ed. Holger Zaborowski, 235-263.
Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010.
 Spackman, Barbara. “Machiavelli and Gender.” In The Cambridge Companion to Machiavelli, ed.
John M. Najemy, 223-238. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
 Strauss, Leo. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978 [1958].
 Sullivan, Vickie B. Machiavelli, Hobbes, and the Formation of a Liberal Republicanism in England.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006.
 Sullivan, Vickie B., ed. The Comedy and Tragedy of Machiavelli. New Haven: Yale University Press,
2000.
 Sullivan, Vickie B. Machiavelli’s Three Romes. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1996.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Machiavelli’s Humanity.” In In Search of Humanity: Essays in Honor of Clifford
Orwin, ed. Andrea Radasanu, 177-186. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2015.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Machiavelli’s Critique of Religion.” Social Research 81, no. 1 (2014): 193-216.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Machiavelli in The Prince: His Way of Life in Question.” In Political Philosophy
Cross-Examined: Perennial Challenges to the Philosophic Life. Essays in Honor of Heinrich Meier. ed.
Thomas L. Pangle and J. Harvey Lomax, 101-118. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013a.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Belief and Opinion in Machiavelli’s Prince.” The Review of Politics 75, no. 4
(2013b): 573-586.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Freedom, Republics, and Peoples in Machiavelli’s Prince.” In Freedom and the
Human Person, ed. Richard Velkley, 122-142. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press,
2007.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Law and Innovation in Machiavelli’s Prince.” In Enlightening Revolutions: Essays
in Honor of Ralph Lerner, ed. Svetozar Minkov, 77-90. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2006.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Arms and Politics in Machiavelli’s Prince.” In Entre Kant et Kosovo: Études
offertes … Pierre Hassner, ed. Anne-Marie Le Gloannec et Aleksander Smolar, 109-121. Paris: Presses de la
Fondation Nationale des Sciences Politiques, 2003.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Machiavelli and the Foundations of Modernity: A Reading of Chapter 3 of The
Prince.” In Educating the Prince: Essays in Honor of Harvey Mansfield, ed. Mark Blitz and William Kristol,
30-44. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000.
 Tarcov, Nathan. “Quentin Skinner’s Method and Machiavelli’s Prince.” Ethics 92, no. 4 (1982): 692-
709.
 Vatter, Miguel. “Machiavelli, Ancient Theology, and the Problem of Civil Religion.” In Machiavelli
on Liberty & Conflict, ed. David Johnston, Nadia Urbinati, and Camila Vergara, 113-137. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2017.
 Vatter, Miguel. Machiavelli’s The Prince. London: Bloomsbury, 2013.
 Vatter, Miguel. Between Form and Event: Machiavelli’s Theory of Political Freedom. New York:
Fordham University Press, 2014 [2000].
 Viroli, Maurizio. “The Redeeming Prince.” In Machiavelli’s Legacy, ed. Timothy Fuller, 34-53.
Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016.
 Viroli, Maurizio. Redeeming The Prince: The Meaning of Machiavelli’s Masterpiece. Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2014.
 Viroli, Maurizio. Machiavelli’s God. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010.
 Viroli, Maurizio. Niccolò’s Smile: A Biography of Machiavelli. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux,
2000.
 Viroli, Maurizio. Machiavelli. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.
 Vivanti, Corrado. Machiavelli: An Intellectual Biography, trans. Simon MacMichael. Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2013.
 Voegelin, Eric. “Machiavelli’s Prince: Background and Formation.” The Review of Politics 13, no. 2
(1951): 142-168.
 Walker, Leslie J. The Discourses ofNiccolò Machiavelli, two volumes. London, 1975 [1950].
 Warner, John M., and John T. Scott. “Sin City: Augustine and Machiavelli’s Reordering of
Rome.” The Journal of Politics 73, no. 3 (August 2011): 857-871.
 Wolin, Sheldon. Politics and Vision. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004 [1960].
 Wootton, David. “Machiavelli and the Business of Politics.” In Machiavelli’s Legacy, ed. Timothy
Fuller, 87-104. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016.
 Zuckert, Catherine. Machiavelli’s Politics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017.
 Zuckert, Catherine. “Machiavelli’s Revolution in Thought.” In Machiavelli’s Legacy, ed. Timothy
Fuller, 54-69. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016.
 

Author Information
Kevin Honeycutt
Email: honeycutt_ks@mercer.edu
Mercer University
U. S. A.