Уильям Моэм - Then and Now

The Duke was with his cousin the Bishop of Elna. He was gracious, but wasted no time on compliments.

“I have always been frank with you, Secretary, and I wish now to put my position quite plainly. I am not satisfied with the declarations of good will which at the Signory’s direction you convey to me. The Pope may die any day and if I want to keep my states I must take measures to secure myself. The King of France is my ally and I have an armed force; but that may not be enough and so I wish to make friends of my neighbours. These are Bologna, Mantua, Ferrara and Florence.”

Machiavelli thought this was no time to repeat his assurances of the Republic’s good will and so wisely held his tongue.

“So far as Ferrara is concerned I have acquired the Duke’s friendship by his alliance with Monna Lucrezia, my beloved sister, the enormous dowry the Pope gave her, and the benefits we have conferred on his brother the Cardinal. So far as Mantua is concerned, we are arranging two things; one is to give the cardinal’s hat to the Marquis’s brother, for which the Marquis and his brother will deposit forty thousand ducats; and the other is to give my daughter in marriage to the Marquis’s son, whereupon the forty thousand ducats will be returned as her dowry. I need not point out to you, Secretary, that mutual advantage is the most solid basis of enduring friendship.”

“I would not dispute it, Excellency,” smiled Machiavelli. “And Bologna?”

The Lord of Bologna, Giovanni Bentivoglio, had joined the rebellious captains and though his army had withdrawn from the Duke’s frontiers it remained on a war footing. Il Valentino stroked his well–kept, pointed beard and smiled maliciously.

“I have no wish to seize Bologna, but only to assure myself of that state’s co–operation. I would sooner have Messer Giovanni my friend than drive him out of a state which I might not be able to hold and which might prove my ruin. Besides which, the Duke of Ferrara refuses to give me his aid unless I come to an agreement with Bologna.”

“Messer Giovanni has signed the articles of association with the rebels.”

“For once your information is at fault, Secretary,” the Duke answered good–naturedly. “Messer Giovanni is of opinion that the articles do not safeguard his interests and has refused to agree to them. I am in communication with his brother the Protonotary and things are proceeding to our mutual satisfaction. When we come to an agreement the Protonotary will receive a cardinal’s hat or if he prefers to relinquish Holy Orders the hand of my cousin, the sister of the Cardinal Borgia. The forces of our four states, supported further by the King of France, will be formidable and then your masters will have more need of me than I of them. I don’t say that I bear them ill will, but circumstances alter cases and if I am not bound to them by a definite pact I shall feel myself at liberty to act as appears best to me.”

The velvet glove was off and the mailed fist bared. Machiavelli allowed himself a moment’s reflection. He was aware that Agapito and the Bishop of Elna were watching him intently.

“What exactly would Your Excellency have us do?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could. “I understand that you have already come to terms with Vitellozzo and the Orsini.”

“Nothing has been signed yet and so far as I’m concerned I’d just as soon nothing were signed. It is not my policy to crush the Orsini: if the Pope dies I must have friends in Rome. When Pagolo Orsini came to see me one of his complaints was the behaviour of Ramiro de Lorqua; I promised to give him satisfaction and I shall be as good as my word. Vitellozzo is another matter. He is a snake and he has done everything he could to prevent my settling my differences with the Orsini.”

“Perhaps it would be better if Your Excellency were more explicit.”

“Very well. I desire you to write to your masters that it may very well be that the King of France will order them to restore to me the condotta which they withdrew without rhyme or reason and they will be obliged to obey. It is surely better for them to do this willingly than by compulsion.”

Machiavelli paused to collect himself. He knew that every word he said was fraught with danger. When he spoke it was in as ingratiating a manner as he could assume.

“Your Excellency acts with prudence in assembling his forces and making friends; but so far as the condotta is concerned, Your Excellency can’t be classed with hireling captains who have nothing but themselves and a few troops to sell. Your Excellency is one of the powers of Italy and it would be more suitable to make an alliance with you than to engage you as a mercenary.”

“I should look upon such an engagement as an honour,” the Duke answered suavely. “Come now, Secretary, surely we can arrange something that will be to our common advantage. I am a professional soldier, bound to your state by ties of friendship; it is a slight your masters put upon me in refusing my request. I don’t believe that I’m mistaken in thinking that I could serve them as well as anyone else.”

“I venture to point out that there would be no great safety for my government when three quarters of its troops were in the hands of Your Excellency.”

“Does that mean that you doubt my good faith?”

“Not at all,” said Machiavelli with a fervour he was far from feeling. “But my masters are prudent and they must be circumspect. They cannot afford to take a step which they might have reason to regret. Their chief desire is to be at peace with all men.”

“You are too intelligent not to know, Secretary, that the only way to assure peace is to be prepared for war.”

“I have no doubt that my government will take such steps as they deem necessary.”

“By taking other captains into their service?” the Duke asked sharply.

This was the opportunity Machiavelli had been looking for. He knew that Il Valentino was subject to sudden attacks of rage and, having vented it, would scornfully dismiss the object of his wrath. Machiavelli was too eager to get away to care if he angered him.

“I have every reason to believe that such are its intentions.”

To his astonishment the Duke laughed. He rose from his chair and stood with his back to the fire. He answered with complete good humour.

“Are they under the impression that it is possible to remain neutral in the unsettled conditions that now prevail? Surely they have more sense. When two neighbouring states go to war, the one that has counted on your help because of the intimate relations between you will think you under an obligation to share its fortunes, and when you fail to do so, will bear you a grudge: the other will despise you for your timidity and lack of spirit. To the one side you are a useless friend and to the other an enemy little to be feared.

“The neutral is in such a position that he can help one party or the other; and in the end he is forced into such a situation that he is obliged against his will to enter the fray which he was unwilling at the beginning to enter boldly and with good grace. Believe me, it is always wiser to take one side or the other without hesitation, for one or the other of them will be victorious and then you will fall prey to the winner. For who will come to your rescue? You can give no reason why anyone should protect you and will find no one to do it. The victor has no use for friends he can’t trust and the vanquished will do nothing for you, even if he can, because you wouldn’t come to his help when your forces might have saved him.”

Machiavelli had no wish at the moment to listen to a disquisition on neutrality and he only hoped that by then the Duke had said his say. But he hadn’t.

“Whatever the risks of war, the risks of neutrality are greater. It renders you an object of hatred and contempt, and sooner or later you will fall victim to the first person who thinks it worth his while to destroy you. If on the other hand you come out vigorously on one side and that side wins, even though its power is so great that you may have cause to fear it, you have put it under an obligation and attached it to yourself by bonds of friendship.”