2.4 Virtù and Fortuna
If virtue is no longer the end of a good human life, however, then why does a republic need to concern itself with virtue at all? This question is an urgent one, precisely because Machiavelli has lowered the stature of virtue as a source of natural human flourishing. The key is that he also elevates the reach of virtue as a source of efficacious power. Machiavelli’s virtù can do more in the world than the self-limiting Roman virtues; his virtuous republic is more sustainable and more achievable for a longer period of time than its historical predecessors; his best regime ought to have ‘infinite virtuous successions’ (D 1.20).8 Machiavelli’s newly fashioned Romans are more responsible for their own success than were the ancient Romans themselves; Rome’s traditional admirers gave excessive credit to Rome’s conventional virtues.
Virtue, as Machiavelli redefines it, is the understanding of necessity that allows us to exploit every human situation to our advantage. It is self-command or world-command, rather than self-control and resigned acceptance. The truth really does set us free, though not in the way that the Gospel of John suggested. Machiavelli’s peculiar history of Rome teaches both why his virtue must be perpetually cultivated over time, and how that virtue can redesign political ‘modes and orders’ with a view to keeping the city powerful.
To understand this aspect of Machiavellian virtù, one must consider that virtù in relation to fortune. Machiavelli encourages aspiring leaders to recognise that the world is not providential; no wise overseer, like the Platonic Demiurge or the Christian God, will make provision for human beings who refuse to take responsibility for themselves. Equally, in such a world, fortune is not only not a goddess, but also not an ally: men of virtù learn to acknowledge that the world offers us nothing more than constraints, surprises and necessities. In order to understand Machiavelli’s new construction of the relation of the virtuous republic to fortune in a world drained of providence, we turn to his treatment of three Livian heroes: Marcus Valerius Corv[in]us, the young hero of the Samnite wars (Liv. 7.26 ff.); Titus Manlius Torquatus, the famous filicide and enduring symbol of old Republican severity (Liv. 8.7 ff.); and Marcus Furius Camillus, the second founder of Rome (Liv. 7.1). These three figures reveal that Machiavelli’s Rome – more youthful, more ruthless and more prudent than that of Livy – both replaces and reshapes Livian virtue in a way that conforms to Machiavellian virtù. Machiavelli’s Republic makes possible an unprecedented resistance to, and even triumph over, the ‘goddess’ Fortuna.
In his presentation of the Roman military tribune Valerius Corvinus (Valerius Corvus in the accepted reading of Livian manuscript tradition), Machiavelli shows that the virtuous republic overcomes fortune and renews itself not, as in Livy, by filial piety, by devotion to the mos maiorum, or by respect for the gods, but rather through youthful desire, the perpetual bending and breaking of ancient orders, and faithless cunning on the part of its elites. The Romans succeeded because they gave new princes an ordinary way to acquire power without allowing them the time to turn that power into a hereditary state. Rome’s willingness to grant the consular authority to Valerius when he was merely 23 years old is related to its willingness to excuse the transgressions of innovative and bold commanders – such as Fabius Maximus Rullianus, who decided to march into the Ciminian forest against the Senate’s orders. Not the Republic’s adoration for old age but its indulgence of youthful vigour distinguished it from other governments. For this reason, Machiavelli writes, ‘Rome was the least ungrateful’ of the ancient republics; and for this reason, he suggests, it was able to maintain its vigour for so long in the midst of success (D 1.29.3). Machiavelli radicalises and greatly exaggerates that side of the Roman self-understanding that appreciated innovativeness at the expense of traditionalism. Since fortune continually varies, republics require daring leaders who will adapt the established institutions and practices to the needs of each moment (D 3.9.3).
In fact, while discussing Rome’s frequent experience of ‘new necessities’ to ‘create new orders’ – e.g. changing the term-limits of censors – Machiavelli openly criticises Livy (D 1.49.1). Rome achieved greatness by inflaming the ambition of its young men and by giving those young men a meaningful and attractive career path that did not involve outright criminality. In analysing these features of Rome’s political culture, Machiavelli transformed Livy’s stern virtues into innovative qualities that resisted the natural forces of fortune. To rely on inheritance, to trust in blood and age, to reject meritocracy in favour of nepotism – all these strategies rely unwisely on fortune. Since individuals of great ambition and talent are rare in any city, it was critical that the Roman Republic recruit its prospective leaders effectively and put them to good public use. Machiavelli’s best republic provides those who desire and deserve to rule, whatever their birth, the opportunity to acquire and so benefit themselves and others (P 9; D 1.16, 1.37).
But if such ambitious youth are necessary for the health and well-being of a republic, they are also dangerous (D 1.33, 1.52, 3.28; P 3; Liv. 2.3, 3.37, 3.61, 4.14). Machiavellian virtù is as threatening as it is productive. The well-ordered republic both encourages and checks its virtuous youth; wise republican orders cultivate mutual suspicion, rotation in office and perpetual vigilance among the elite.
In Discourses 1.30, Machiavelli notes that one of the reasons the Romans had ‘so many virtuous men’ from both the ‘nobles and the ignobles’ was that they were perpetually at war (D 1.30.2). This observation is Machiavelli’s reformulated version of the traditional Roman praise of metus hostilis – the fear of the enemy that keeps citizens loyal, patriotic and stern. A second reason for the superiority of republics is that ‘since they [the Roman elite] were very many they guarded one another’. Instead of relying on concordia or civic trust, the Romans embraced conflict, pitting ambition against ambition. Hence, when Machiavelli praises Rome for being the least ungrateful republic, he also praises Cato the Elder for causing Scipio Africanus, one of the other two individuals named alongside Valerius for their youthful rise in Discourses 1.60, to go into exile (D 1.29.3).9
Machiavelli takes his argument about checking elites to its limit when he proposes that the Romans maintained their virtue through extraordinary, violent sacrifices. These sacrifices were of two types: in one case, a member of the Roman elite would sacrifice himself for the common good; in the second case, a member of the elite would punish another who had gone too far beyond the bounds of the ancient orders. Machiavelli zealously supports both actions, but he suggests that the latter is more prudent – i.e. more in accordance with virtù (D 1.14.1, 3.1.2–4, 3.45.1). In bringing to light and celebrating the punitive dimensions of prudence, Machiavelli radicalises the harshest side of traditional Roman virtue.
The greatest example of a punishing virtue that checks but does not crush innovative virtù is the infamous deed of Manlius Torquatus, who killed his own son for disobedience, after Manlius junior had victoriously engaged the enemy against his father’s orders. Livy first alludes to this stupefying act early in his history. After noting that some tell a similar story