IN addition to his previous thoughts on how a prince might rise to the fore as a result of good fortune or innate skill, Machiavelli suggests that there are two further methods by which this process might come about. One is through wickedness, the other by way of securing the favour of his fellow citizens. Machiavelli seeks to explain the first procedure with examples from both the past and the present.

Beginning with Agathocles (361-289 BCE), the humble son of a lowly potter who went on to rule over both Syracuse and Sicily, we are told that he lived a life of total cruelty and that he became so feared by his contemporaries that he soon rose through the ranks of the Syracusan military. Once he had secured his position in the army hierarchy, Agathocles was determined to become a prince:

He came to an understanding for this purpose with Amilcar, the Carthaginian, who with his army, was fighting in Sicily. One morning he assembled the people and the senate of Syracuse, as if he had to discuss with them things relating to the Republic. At a given signal the soldiers killed all the senators and the richest of the people. He then seized and held the princedom of that city without any civil rebellion. And although he was twice defeated by the Carthaginians, and ultimately besieged, he was not only able to defend his city, but leaving part of his men for its defence, with the others he attacked the Carthaginians in Africa. In a short time the Carthaginians’ were forced to stop their siege on Syracuse. The Carthaginians, reduced to extreme necessity, were forced to make peace with Agathocles, and, leaving Sicily to him, had to be content with the possession of Africa.

Machiavelli readily admits that, whilst Agathocles was extremely successful, there was nothing remotely fortunate about his exorbitant ascendency and he literally fought his way to the top. Surprisingly, perhaps, Machiavelli also concedes that neither killing one’s enemies nor deceiving one’s friends – as Agathocles did in the most ruthless manner imaginable – may be regarded as a feat of particular skill or ability. There is, he says, no ‘glory’ involved in such actions and therefore Agathocles does not rank among the other great princes that he so admires.

To further illustrate his point, the Italian uses the example of Oliverotto of Fermo (1475-1502), who was a condottiero mercenary employed by both the Italian city-states and the Papacy. Having lost his father at a young age and been raised by his uncle, Giovanni Fogliano, Oliverotto spent his youth fighting for money and ended up being accused of treachery by the Florentines. Spared execution, he then served under Cesare Borgia before cultivating ambitions of his own and deciding that he wanted to rule Fermo. The province was controlled by his uncle, Fogliani, so Oliverotto devised a plan by which he asked to stay with his relation and then invited the citizens of Fermo to a huge banquet:

When the food and all the other usual entertainment were finished, Oliverotto began to speak of serious matters, speaking of the greatness of Pope Alexander and his son Cesare. Giovanni and others replied to this speech, but Oliverotto rose at once, saying that such matters ought to be discussed in a more private place. He went into another room, and Giovanni and the rest of the citizens went in after him. No sooner were they seated than soldiers came out from secret places and killed Giovanni and the rest. After these murders Oliverotto rode up and down the town on horseback and besieged the governing council. The people were afraid and were forced to obey him, and to form a government with Oliverotto as the prince. He killed all those who were able to injure him, and strengthened himself with new civil and military laws, in such a way that, in the year during which he held the principality, not only was he secure in the city of Fermo, but he had become more powerful than all his neighbours.

Within a year, however, this cycle of death and destruction had returned to haunt Oliverotto and he himself was murdered on the orders of Cesare Borgia.

Machiavelli claims that whilst Agathocles had tempered the cruel streak that marked his early life, Oliverotto continued in this wicked vein and it eventually led to his own downfall. The solution, he says, is to deal with one’s enemies in one fell swoop. This, we are told, will prevent those around the prince becoming ever-fearful for their own well-being and command a greater sense of loyalty.

Frederick responds by noting the apparent paradox that someone like Machiavelli, whose very philosophy is centred around iniquitous behaviour, can actually dare to address the ‘wickedness’ of others. Particularly, of course, when he so carefully selects those aspects from the colourful lives of Agathocles and Oliverotto with which he agrees. In terms of the manner in which finding common cause with such criminal elements can often lead to disaster, Frederick provides an anecdote of his own

All England saw what had arrived in London a few years ago: a rather poor comedy under the title of The Robbers, in which the audience took turns playing the beggar: the subject of this part was the “moral flexibility” and shamelessness of robbers. This was found when many people realized, when coming out of these performances, that their rings, snuffboxes and watches were gone. The author made disciples so promptly, that they even practised his lessons in the floor. This proves enough, it seems to me, how pernicious it is to promote bad examples from the authority of a stage.

Machiavelli is said to have overlooked the fact that Agathocles was never permitted to enjoy the fruits of his endeavours due to being constantly at war with Carthage. the latter even saw to it that his own grandchildren were murdered. As for Oliverotto, on the other hand, although Machiavelli does mention that Borgia had him killed within a year of seizing control of Fermo, Frederick says that

Machiavel would like his stories of crime to end with everyone living happily ever after, and stories they are. He gives many exciting rationales for his policies, but we look in vain for him to produce arguments that agree with sense impressions of our own.

The German also explains that a tyrant can never be at peace due to his nagging conscience, but it is doubtful whether the likes of Agathocles and Oliverotto ever felt the moral pangs of guilt. Such men, for Frederick, are inevitably misanthropic in character and eventually become victims of their own crimes.

TO BE CONTINUED…