The irony of Machiavelli’s bad reputation, his cunning prince, and Mandragora’s irreverence

Niccolò Machiavelli. His name evokes everything devious, cunning, malicious and cruel. Calling someone a Machiavellian, or Machiavelli, is not a compliment, unless it is considered a compliment for unethical behavior. In Shakespeare’s Othello, Iago is a supreme Machiavelli, quite possibly the last and best-known Machiavelli in dramatic literature.

However, there is irony here because the dismal reputation given to Machiavelli is grossly undeserved. For most of his adult life, he was involved in politics, always striving to improve people’s lives. Dissatisfied with the disregard of costly Swiss and German mercenaries in defending Florence, he created military conscription, recruiting Florentines to defend their own city from him. At the time of his early death at fifty-eight, he was a highly respected ambassador and political courier in France, as well as in the city-states of Italy outside of his native Florence.

He was also a well-liked man for his generosity and intelligence, possessed a well-known sense of humor, was loyal to his friends, a loving father to his children, and devoted to his wife (even through his many love affairs, because, of of course, he was Florentine and Italian).

It was not until twenty years after his death that his reputation changed from that of a respected, admired and loved man to that of Satan in the flesh. Even his name became another epithet for the devil: Old Nick!

As for Niccolò himself, his pragmatic philosophy had no place – and little respect – for the spiritual. He was too familiar with the corrupt officials of the Church to be a faithful believer in the dogma; the faith he had was based on a reality that excluded the idea of ​​a Heaven. He often said that he wanted to go to Hell because he knew he would meet his friends there.

We must blame the Jesuits, whom Niccolò did not consider friends, for the corruption of his name and reputation. That intellectual order of priests, not too happy with Machiavelli’s realistic thoughts on the Church, placed all of his writings on the Index of Forbidden Books, thus beginning the infamous legacy that it has to this day.

His major essay, The Prince, continues to intrigue and stir controversy with its insights into how to gain, maintain, and promote power, seemingly at any cost, including human lives.

Although not primarily considered a playwright, his 1518 play, Mandragora (English title: The Mandrake), is considered by theater scholars to be the greatest comedy of the Italian Renaissance. This raunchy play lampoons aspects of life, love and, yes, power: its uses and its misuses. It was a great success during his lifetime.

Over the following centuries, Mandragora has seen countless productions. In the 20th century alone, it found its way into English nine times, as well as adaptations in two operas, two light musicals, and two films. In this still young 21st century, a new translation has already been produced in New York City.

Until now, you always had to be part of an audience in a theater to enjoy Machiavelli’s comedy, and a theater, no matter how big, is still a limited venue. Now there is another incarnation of this fascinating work. Mandragora is now a novel. In fact, it is the only novel ever created from Machiavelli’s comedy, even after five centuries. This allows her to hold ‘Old Nick’ in his hands and carry him, his wacky ideas and hilarious irreverence with him wherever he goes. Good morning!