Discussion 7

Sin City: Augustine and Machiavelli’s Reordering of Rome Author(s): John M. Warner and John T. Scott Source: The Journal of Politics, Vol. 73, No. 3 (Aug. 3, 2011), pp. 857-871 Published by: The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the Southern Political Science Association Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1017/s002238161100051x Accessed: 15-05-2017 17:44 UTC

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Sin City: Augustine and Machiavelli’s Reordering of Rome

John M. Warner University of California-Davis John T. Scott University of California-Davis

We examine Machiavelli’s critical appropriation of Augustine’s analysis of Rome’s decline and fall in order to understand his own interpretation of Rome and the lessons it offers for a successful republic. If Machiavelli’s departure from Augustine is obvious, as seen for example in his exculpation of Romulus for the fratricide Augustine condemns, equally illuminating is what Machiavelli borrows from him. For Augustine, Romulus’ fratricide discloses the limits of pagan virtue and politics and reveals that the civic republican view of an early virtuous republic is nostalgic if not impossible. Machiavelli agrees with Augustine about the character of Rome, yet embraces the ambitious and acquisitive politics Augustine rebuffs. Machiavelli not only excuses Romulus’ fratricide in ‘‘ordering’’ Rome, but makes it the archetypal act that must be repeated through ‘‘reordering’’ to sustain the state against the perennial problem of corruption. We thereby address two of the primary issues in Machiavelli scholarship—the character of his republicanism and the nature and extent of his innovation with regard to his ancient sources—and suggest that the ‘‘civic republican’’ or ‘‘neo-Roman’’ interpretation of Machiavelli is incorrect in its conclusions concerning his republicanism as well as his relationship to his ancient sources.

T he success and then ultimate decline and fall of Rome have attracted attention from at least the Renaissance to the present day. Recent

domestic and international politics have reanimated interest in the republic turned empire. Are We Rome? is the title of a recent work that begins by noting that Americans have looked to Rome since the beginnings of the nation, when Publius, Brutus, and other ancient shades were conjured in the battle over the character of the regime (Murphy 2008; see also Chua 2007; Ferguson 2004). In examining the relationship be- tween republic and empire today and two millennia ago, scholars have often recurred to the Renaissance, when philosophers, poets, and politicians thought of imitating the art and politics of a past appreciated anew. ‘‘Machiavelli, looking back at the conception of the ancients and anticipating that of the moderns, is really the one who offers the most adequate illus- tration of the paradox of empire,’’ argue Hardt and Negri (2001, 372). Machiavelli’s own critical appro- priation of ancient Rome serves as a touchstone for

both recovering the past and applying its lessons to whatever present in which we may find ourselves.

Machiavelli himself begins his Discourses on Livy by complaining about an obstacle to a correct com- prehension of Rome and of ancient history more generally. He laments that whereas his contemporaries honor antiquity by imitating its arts, they admire rather than imitate the political deeds of the ancients. This lamentable situation, Machiavelli explains, arises from ‘‘not having a true knowledge of histories, through not getting from reading them that sense nor tasting that flavor that they have in themselves.’’ His contemporaries have learned to behold the deeds described and the possibilities envisaged in the ancient histories as fantastic, unearthly, and even inhuman; they appear so remote from Renaissance Florence that it is ‘‘as if heaven [il cielo], sun, elements, men had varied in motion, order, and power from what they were in antiquity’’ (DL I.Preface.2).1 The question thus arises: if the readers of Machiavelli’s day mis- understand Roman history and the ancient histories

The Journal of Politics, Vol. 73, No. 3, July 2011, Pp. 857–871 doi:10.1017/S002238161100051X

� Southern Political Science Association, 2011 ISSN 0022-3816

1All citations to Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy are to Machiavelli (1996) and will be by book, chapter, and paragraph. References to the Italian are to Machiavelli (1976). References to Augustine’s City of God are to Augustine (1950) and will be by book and chapter. References to the Latin are to Augustine (1877). We follow the divisions by book and chapter in the Latin version.

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more generally, and thereby did not consider imi- tating the ancients, who or what is responsible for this misunderstanding?

Standing between his contemporaries and ancient Rome is a figure who passionately believed that ‘‘heaven’’ had indeed varied from what it was in antiquity: Augustine. Augustine’s City of God was the most influential interpretation of Rome available to the Middle Ages, and his scathing critique of Roman virtue remained influential in the Renaissance era. As Davis explains of Augustine and Orosius, the Bishop of Hippo’s fellow apologist for Christianity upon the fall of Rome: ‘‘Both Augustine and Orosius presented a rather unsympathetic picture of Roman republican heroes, while furnishing the medieval world with most of its information about them.... The influence of Orosius and St. Augustine tended to inhibit medieval sympathy for the Roman Republic’’ (1974, 32; see Pocock 2003, chap. 5). Augustine continued to exert considerable intellectual influence in Renaissance Florence (see Fitzgerald 2003; Gill 2005). This influ- ence is witnessed by Machiavelli’s predecessor in the Florentine chancery and the central figure in Baron’s (1955) influential work on ‘‘civic humanism,’’ Coluc- cio Salutati, whose initial enthusiasm for republican Rome was reversed under Augustine’s influence (see Skinner 1978, 72 ff.). If Machiavelli is to persuade his readers that imitation of ancient politics—that is, the creative imitation made possible through the proper interpretation of ancient sources—is possible and desirable, he must overcome the understanding of Rome decisively shaped by Augustine.

Although Machiavelli never directly mentions Augustine in his works, it is clear that his narrative about the importance of libido dominandi in ancient Rome exists within a conceptual world erected in large part by Augustine. Indeed, scholars who seem unable to agree on anything else appear quite unanimous in believing that Augustine served as an important intellectual signpost for Machiavelli. Some see Augustine as an influence for Machiavelli’s con- ception of politics in a fallen world (Colish 1999; Deane 1963, 56, 117–18; De Grazia 1989; Prezzolini 1954), while others claim that he helped create the intellectual framework concerning time and fortune within which Machiavelli is working and against which he is struggling (Pocock 1975). Still others view Augustine as an adversary to whom Machiavelli is responding in his revival of pagan politics (Fontana 1999, esp. 655–58; Hulliung 1983), his defense of tumult and imperialism against Rome’s detractors (Sasso 1986, 490–99), and his treatment of Christian- ity itself (Parel 1992, esp. 154; Sullivan 1996a, esp. 37,

52–53). Finally, despite the absence of clear direct evidence for Machiavelli’s familiarity with Augustine, a number of scholars seem to agree with Sasso’s judg- ment that the learned Florentine ‘‘certainly knew’’ the City of God (1986, 157–58; see also 490–99). In this light, numerous editors of the Discourses cite Augustine as a probable source for various passages, most notably the exculpation of Romulus’ fratricide against the ‘‘many’’ who judge it to be a ‘‘bad example’’ (DL I.9.1).2 In sum, even if Machiavelli’s reinterpre- tation of Roman history cannot be definitely said to be specifically intended to reverse or undermine Augustine’s account, the great bishop can be said to be responsible for constructing much of the theoret- ical framework in which Machiavelli is operating and against which he is struggling.

We examine Machiavelli’s analysis of Rome in the Discourses in light of Augustine’s treatment of Rome in the City of God in order to address two of the primary issues in scholarship on Machiavelli: the character of his republicanism and, related, the nature and extent of his innovation with regard to his ancient sources. If Machiavelli’s departure from Augustine’s condemnation of pagan politics is per- haps obvious, as seen for example in his exculpation of Romulus for the fratricide Augustine condemns, equally illuminating is what Machiavelli borrows from Augustine. Machiavelli and Augustine both trace Rome’s particular ‘‘virtue’’ to its founding by Romulus, and they both view Romulus’ fratricide as paradigmatic of the Roman regime as a whole. For Augustine, Romulus’ act is paradigmatic of the sinful character of the acquisitiveness and prideful virtue that gives the lie to the nostalgia voiced by Livy, Sallust, Cicero, and others for the ‘‘true way’’—in Sallust’s phrase—of a virtuous early Rome. Romulus’ fratricide discloses the limits of pagan virtue and politics for Augustine. For Machiavelli no less than for Augustine, the ‘‘true way’’ of a polity that seeks peace within and without is not possible given the nature of human things. Yet Machiavelli embraces what Augustine rebuffs. The Florentine secretary counsels adopting the inevitable—and profitable— course of internal discord and external expansion whereas the Bishop of Hippo laments the modes and orders of the city of man. While joining Augustine in rejecting the nostalgic view of old Rome, Machiavelli not only excuses Romulus’ fratricide in ‘‘ordering’’

2 See, e.g., the editions by Inglese (Machiavelli 1984), Mansfield

and Tarcov (Machiavelli 1996), Vivanti (Machiavelli 1997), and Atkinson and Sices (2002).

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Rome, but makes it the archetypal act that must be repeated through ‘‘reordering’’ to sustain the republic.

Our reading of Machiavelli in light of Augustine makes a unique contribution to the central debate among scholars over the character of Machiavelli’s republicanism and extent of his innovation with regard to his ancient sources by revealing Machia- velli’s critical view of the classical ‘‘civic republican’’ tradition that many interpreters have held him to be following. Most prominently, Skinner (1990, 2002, esp. 171), building on his earlier (1977) examination of Machiavelli in terms of a Quattrocento civic repub- lican thought, sees the Florentine as a ‘‘neo-Roman’’ thinker who was decisively influenced by Sallust and Cicero (see also Fontana 2003; Viroli 1998). We agree that Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ is Machiavelli’s target, but our reading Machiavelli in light of Augustine reveals that he rejects this ‘‘true way.’’ This finding confirms other criticisms of the civic republican interpretation of Machiavelli (e.g., Connell 2000; McCormick 2003; Rahe 2004, 2008; see also Sullivan 1996b), but we approach the question by analyzing Machiavelli’s critical appropriation of his ancient sources. Finally, while we come to similar conclusions regarding Machiavelli’s embrace of the tumultuous, acquisitive, and expansionist Rome as Strauss (1958) and others (e.g., Hulliung 1983; Lefort 1972; Mansfield 1979, 1996; Sullivan 1996a), we do so not by placing him in the high philosophic tradition of Plato and others, but rather by situating him in the largely historical discourse in which he—at least initially—situates himself (cf. Strauss 1958 to Lefort 1972, 259–305). We read the Discourses in light of Augustine’s inter- pretation of Rome, which is itself in part a response to the same historians read by Machiavelli.

Finally, a quick word about our enabling assump- tions will clarify what we are—and are not—arguing. First, we have already noted that the evidence con- cerning Machiavelli’s familiarity with Augustine is circumstantial (if strong), and while we will provide further evidence that makes the case even stronger, we need not and do not assume any direct influence. Second, although we examine Machiavelli’s thought in light of the conceptual world decisively shaped by Augustine, we focus on the concrete question of Machiavelli’s interpretation of Rome, namely on how his solution to the problem of corruption through ‘‘ordering’’ and ‘‘reordering’’ critically appropriates elements of Augustine’s treatment of Roman politics. Our analysis does, of course, bear on broader ques- tions concerning Machiavelli and Augustine’s respec- tive visions of politics, and we will briefly address them in the conclusion.

The Sins of the Fathers: Augustine on Pagan Rome

Augustine wrote the City of God against the Pagans in order to answer the charge that Christianity had led to the fall of Rome, but in taking up this task he offers a broad and influential examination of the character of the Roman polity from the perspective of Christianity. Augustine’s ultimate assessment of Rome, pagan politics in general, and the civitas terrena—politics itself—is the central question in scholarship on his thought. Scholars locate them- selves on a continuum that stretches all the way from the extreme view that Augustine rejects Rome, pagan politics, and politics itself as essentially and irredeem- ably corrupt through a series of more intermediary interpretations to the opposite extreme of the view that Augustine sees Rome at its best as exhibiting virtuous, if ultimately tragic examples of pagan politics and envisions an essential role for the moral states- manship of the Christian politician in the earthly city (e.g., Cornish 2010; Deane 1963; Markus 1970; Von Heyking 2001, esp. 157–71; Wolin 1960, chap. 4).

Despite such varying and inconsistent interpre- tations of Augustine’s qualified admiration (or lack thereof) for certain examples of pagan virtue and his hopes (or lack thereof) for earthly politics, these scholars agree that Augustine offers a searching criticism of the Roman polity. Since we are interested here less in current interpretations of Augustine’s political thought than his reception among Machia- velli and his contemporaries, we again note Davis’ (1974, 32) characterization of that influence as presenting an unsympathetic picture of the Roman republic and thereby inhibiting sympathy for Rome. With this in mind, we emphasize two aspects of Augustine’s political theory on which there is broad agreement in preparation for our examination of Machiavelli’s critical appropriation of Augustine. First, scholars agree that Augustine condemns the ambition and acquisitiveness that generally (if per- haps not universally) characterized Rome from its founding in Romulus’ fratricide and that Augustine treats Romulus as a paradigmatic case of such ambition. As we shall see, Machiavelli agrees with Augustine on Romulus as an exemplar but embraces what the bishop rejects. Second, and related, scholars broadly agree that Augustine rejects the romanticized view of early Rome advanced by Sallust and others and instead argues that the ‘‘true way’’ of civic republican- ism regretted by Sallust at best only fleetingly charac- terized Rome. In other words, even if Augustine

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accepts Cicero’s definition of a ‘‘republic’’ and admires Sallust’s vision of the ‘‘true way’’ of a virtuous republic, Augustine does not believe that Rome ever lived up to such ideals. As we shall see, Machiavelli accepts Augustine’s characterization of Roman politics while rejecting the civil republican ideal admired by Cicero, Sallust, and perhaps Augustine as well.

Founding Sin City: Romulus’ Fratricide and the

Character of Rome

In order to make his case about the true character of Rome, Augustine confronts the most formidable of the theorists and historians of the Roman republic. Augustine first engages Cicero, accepting Tully’s definition of a republic but then using it to deny that Rome was ever (or rarely) truly such a republic. Augustine quotes an important passage from Cicero’s De Republica—one of the most substantial extant fragments from the work available to Machiavelli and his contemporaries (see Sasso 1986, 151, for Machia- velli’s debt to Augustine on this point). In this passage, Cicero has Scipio define a ‘‘republic’’ after first rejecting the position that a republic must sometimes necessarily be governed with injustice, a position familiar to readers of Machiavelli, in favor of the argument ‘‘that it cannot be governed without the most absolute justice.’’ According to Scipio, a republic (rei publica) is ‘‘the weal of the people’’ (rem populi) (CG II.21 quoting Cicero De Republica I.25). In the context of Cicero’s work this definition is doubly nostalgic, for it constitutes not only a lament by Scipio over the loss of virtue that had already begun after the destruction of Carthage, the dramatic setting of the dialogue, but also an indictment of the final collapse of the republic at the time Cicero is writing.

Augustine accepts Cicero’s definition of a repub- lic and agrees with Cicero and Sallust that the republic ‘‘had altogether ceased to exist’’ by their time after having steadily declined since the conclu- sion of the Punic Wars. But the bishop goes much further. He bluntly declares: ‘‘Rome never was a republic, because true justice had never a place in it’’ (CG II.21). As he famously asks with reference to Rome’s growing empire: ‘‘Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies?’’ (IV.4). Nonetheless, Augustine does grant there was once ‘‘a republic of a certain kind’’ in ancient Rome (II.21), and he grants that the early republic was better governed (V.19). When he returns to the subject in Book XIX as promised, then, Augustine relaxes the Ciceronian standard: ‘‘But if we discard this defini-

tion of a people, and, assuming another, say that a people is an assemblage of reasonable beings bound together by a common agreement as to the objects of their love, then, in order to discover the character of any people, we have only to observe what they love’’ (XIX.23–24; see Wolin 1960, 126–27). Pagan Rome fails to meet even this compromised standard of a ‘‘people’’: though the ancient Romans doubtlessly performed awesome acts of virtue, their motive was not love of God or even love of country, but love of ‘‘glory.’’ The object of their ‘‘love’’ was so flawed as to prevent the most virtuous incarnation of Rome from meeting even the relaxed standard of justice.

More significantly, for Augustine this libido dominandi characterized Rome and animated the city since its archetypal founding by Romulus. Indeed Romulus’ crime is paradigmatic of Rome, and perhaps of pagan politics as a whole and earthly politics in its entirety. If Romulus was guilty, then the whole of Rome shares culpability: ‘‘the whole city is chargeable with [the crime], because it did not see to its punish- ment, and thus committed, not fratricide, but parricide, which is worse’’ (CG III.6). Rome bears something like the mark of Cain for Romulus’ fratricide. The founding fratricide of Rome becomes emblematic of Augustine’s general distinction between the city of man and the city of God. ‘‘Thus the founder of the earthly city was a fratricide,’’ and Augustine writes of Cain: ‘‘Overcome with envy, he slew his own brother, a citizen of the eternal city, and a sojourner on earth. So that we cannot be surprised that this first specimen, or, as the Greeks say, archetype of crime, should, long afterwards, find a corresponding crime at the foundation of that city which was destined to reign over so many nations, and be the head of this earthly city of which we speak’’ (XV.5). Motivated by envy and by ‘‘the glory of ruling,’’ Romulus’ fratricide thus imitates the archetype of Cain and Abel:

And thus there is no difference between the founda- tion of this city and of the earthly city, unless it be that Romulus and Remus were both citizens of the earthly city. Both desired to have the glory of founding the Roman republic, but both could not have as much glory as if one only [unus esset] had claimed it . . . . In order, therefore, that the whole glory might be enjoyed by one [Ut ergo totam dominationem haberet unus], his consort was re- moved; and by this crime the empire was made larger indeed, but inferior, while otherwise it would have been less, but better. (XV.5)

Driven by the love of dominion and glory, Romulus had to be alone. Machiavelli too will focus in his analysis of Romulus’ actions on the need to be ‘‘one alone’’ in ordering.

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For Augustine, then, Romulus’ fratricide reveals the prevailing character of Rome from its very begin- nings. While he gives a number of other historical examples to counter the view of a virtuous early Roman republic, the case of Junius Brutus is partic- ularly important to Augustine for assessing Rome, as it will be for Machiavelli as well. The Bishop of Hippo discusses two of Brutus’ actions in overthrowing the kings and establishing the republic: his role in the execution of his own sons for their part in a conspiracy to bring back the Tarquins and his role in the expulsion of his fellow liberator and consul, L. Tarquinius Collatinus. Augustine’s attitude toward the execution of the sons of Brutus is conflicted because of his uncertainty about the ‘‘ends’’ Brutus had in mind. The ambiguity is captured in the lines from Virgil quoted by Augustine: ‘‘His country’s love shall all o’erbear/And unextinguished thirst of praise’’ (CG III.16, quoting Aeneid VI.822–23).3 Insofar as Brutus’ act was moti- vated by love of country and freedom, Augustine considers it tragic: a noble if regrettable action required by the city of man. However, insofar as Brutus acted for praise and glory, Augustine condemns him. The glory-seeking Brutus is revealed for Augustine in the expulsion of his fellow consul, which he condemns unreservedly. ‘‘Is this, then, the glory of Brutus—this injustice, alike detestable and profitless to the republic. Was it to this that he was driven by ‘his country’s love, and unextinguished thirst of praise’? . . . How unjustly Brutus acted, in depriving of honor and country his colleague in that new office . . . . Such were the ills, such the disasters, which fell out when the government was ‘ordered with justice and moderation’’’ (III.16, quoting Sallust Catilinae Coniuratio 9). Note that Augustine emphasizes that Brutus’ action stripped his colleague of ‘‘honor,’’ thereby suggesting that Brutus, like Romulus, wanted to be ‘‘alone’’ in the glory of reordering Rome. Augustine’s mockery of Sallust’s depiction of the early Roman republic here brings us to Augustine’s view of the impossibility of Sallust’s ‘‘true way.’’

Sallust Days: Augustine and the ‘‘True Way’’

In order to link Rome’s corruption to its expansion, Augustine engages throughout his treatment of

Rome’s history with Sallust, accepting much of Sallust’s praise of a virtuous republic of civic-minded citizens but denying that Rome rarely or ever met such a standard, even in the early republic about which Sallust rhapsodizes. Augustine draws upon Sallust’s Catilinae Coniuratio, in which the Roman historian recounts the conspiracy of Cataline on the cusp of the fall of the republic as a culminating example of the deterioration of Roman virtue. In order to make his larger point, Sallust begins his work with an account of the early Roman republic, which he suggests was characterized by justice and virtue, and its deterioration after the Punic wars when it no longer faced the external threat of Carthage. In this context, Sallust laments that Rome’s citizens were no longer animated by an ambition allied to virtue and pursued by the ‘‘true path’’ (vera via) but were instead motivated by an ambition allied to avarice and pursued by the false ways of ‘‘craft and decep- tion’’ (Sallust Catilinae Coniurato 11). Sallust’s anal- ysis of the virtuous republicanism of Rome and its decay after the defeat of Carthage is similar to Cicero’s, and the two writers were Augustine’s chief sources for the understanding of lost Roman virtue.4

Augustine first raises Sallust in Book II of the City of God to provide evidence for his conclusion that Rome never met Cicero’s definition of a republic. He mocks Sallust’s praise of a supposed virtuous age before the Punic Wars of ‘‘natural equity and virtue’’ by raising the examples of the rape of the Sabine women, Junius Brutus’ inequitable treatment of his colleague Collatinus, and the Romans’ ingratitude toward Camillus, the savior of their city (CG II.17– 18). The only exception Augustine allows to the nostalgic view of a virtuous Rome is the reign of Numa, who introduced religious orders into Rome and led the city during its longest period of peace (III.9). Augustine avers that ‘‘a long continuance of peace’’ should have been Rome’s ‘‘perpetual policy’’ and argues that it erred in attempting to extend herself beyond due proportion: ‘‘Why must a king- dom be distracted in order to be great? In this little world of man’s body, it is it not better to have a moderate stature, and health with it, than to attain the huge dimensions of a giant by unnatural tor- ments, and when you attain it to find not rest’’ (III.10). For Augustine, the closing of the gates of the temple of Janus under Numa was a fleeting interlude for a city impelled by the same ambition to rule as

3Plutarch, another probable source for Machiavelli’s discussion of Junius Brutus, is extraordinarily ambivalent about Brutus’ action: ‘‘An action truly open alike to the highest commendation and the strongest sanction; for either the greatness of his virtue raised him above the impressions of sorrow, or the extravagance of his misery took away all sense of it; but neither seemed common, or the result of humanity, but either divine or brutish’’ (‘‘Life of Poplicola,’’ 1864, 208).

4 Livy could be added, but Augustine does not refer to him in the

City of God (although see IV.26 for a possible allusion). See Livy Ad Urbe condita, Preface, for his lamentation on Rome’s decline.

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characterized Romulus. Machiavelli, we shall see, will reject this policy as impracticable and parasitic on the ambitious acquisitiveness exemplified by Romulus.

Augustine’s own chronicle of Rome’s early his- tory shows that the city was consumed internally and externally by ambition. ‘‘This vice of restless ambition was the sole motive to that social and parricidal war’’ between Rome and Alba, for example: ‘‘a vice which Sallust brands in passing’’ in his ‘‘brief but hearty commendation of those primitive times in which life was spent without covetousness.’’ Sallust’s exception is nonetheless Augustine’s rule. ‘‘This lust of sover- eignty [libido dominandi] disturbs and consumes the human race with frightful ills. By this lust Rome was overcome when she triumphed over Alba, and prais- ing her own crime, called it glory’’ (CG III.14). The love of dominion and glory characterizes Rome from the outset and is the cause of Rome’s expansion and civil wars (IV.3). ‘‘That eagerness for praise and desire of glory, then, was that which accomplished those many wonderful things, laudable, doubtless, and glorious according to human judgment’’ (V.12). Sallust is guilty of such faulty judgment. In the conclusion of his account of Roman history, Augus- tine creatively engages Sallust over the question of what the ‘‘true way’’ is for human virtue and politics, a debate in which Machiavelli will engage in the same terms in his Discourses. At City of God V.12, he quotes Sallust at length:

‘‘But at first it was ambition rather than avarice that stirred the minds of men, which vice, however, is nearer to virtue. For glory, honor, and power are desired alike by the good man and by the ignoble; but the former,’’ he says, ‘‘strives onward to them by the true way [vera via], whilst the other, knowing nothing of the good arts, seeks them by fraud and deceit.’’ (V.12; quoting Sallust, Catilinae Coniuratio 11)

In a decidedly un-Machiavellian moment, Augustine interprets ‘‘good arts’’ to be ‘‘the use of virtuous means rather than deceitful intrigue to arrive at honor, glory, and power.’’ The ‘‘true way,’’ in short, is the way of ‘‘virtue’’ (V.12). Yet the Roman pursuit of virtue is limited by the horizon of human judg- ment. ‘‘That glory, honor, and power, therefore which they desired for themselves, and to which the good sought to attain by good arts, should not be sought after by virtue, but virtue by them. For there is no true virtue except that which is directed toward that end in which is the highest and ultimate good of men’’ (V.12). As close as Sallust’s exemplar of pagan virtue in the work, the glory-seeking of Cato, may be to true virtue, he is still short of it. ‘‘Wherefore even the praises of Cato are only applicable to a few; for

only a few were possessed of that virtue which leads men to pursue after glory, honor, and power by the true way—that is, by virtue itself’’ (V.12). The Roman pursuit of public greatness at the expense of private gain, as praiseworthy as it may be, then, is a form of self-restraint improperly motivated by a base love of praise (V.12–13). In the course of time, Rome deviated from even Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ with increas- ing frequency. Augustine’s condemnation of the vi- cious pursuit of glory and dominion anticipates Machiavelli: ‘‘Therefore he who desires glory presses on to obtain it either by the true way, or certainly by deceit and artifice, wishing to appear good when he is not’’ (V.19).

Augustine’s engagement with Sallust is complex. On the one hand, he betrays a degree of admiration for the pagan civic virtue Sallust calls by the name of the ‘‘true way,’’ but he rejects Sallust’s embellished portrait of a better age and denies that Rome ever followed even this diminished understanding of virtue except perhaps in the rarest of cases. On the other hand, Augustine demotes Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ to its pagan stature in the light of the truth of revelation, which reveals the ‘‘true way’’ (Augustine, Confessions VII.18; cf. John 14:6: ‘‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life’’ [RSV]; 2 Peter 2:2: ‘‘the way of truth’’). ‘‘But the fact is,’’ Augustine writes in discussing Cicero’s con- ception of a republic, ‘‘true justice has no existence save in the republic whose founder is Christ’’ (CG II.21). Machiavelli, in turn, will join Augustine in rejecting Sallust’s interpretation of Rome as having once followed the ‘‘true way,’’ but will reject both Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ of civic republicanism and Augus- tine’s higher path of ‘‘truth and the true way.’’ He celebrates Rome as unreservedly as Sallust while seeing it as clearly as Augustine.

Machiavelli’s New Way: The Reordering of Rome

At the very beginning of the Discourses, Machiavelli announces that he has decided ‘‘to take a path [via] as yet untrodden by anyone.’’ Yet this new ‘‘way’’ somewhat paradoxically involves a novel interpreta- tion of Roman history, a critical appropriation of ancient politics. We suggest that Machiavelli’s ‘‘reordering’’ of Rome reflects important elements of Augustine’s pessimistic account of Roman history even as it reverses Augustine’s ultimate judgment about the sinful nature of ancient politics. Indeed though Machiavelli cannot endorse the great bishop’s

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impassioned homiletics against the civitas terrena, he nonetheless joins Augustine in concluding that the ‘‘true way’’ of civic republicanism espoused by Sallust, Cicero, and others is naive if not altogether impossible.

Other scholars have recently drawn attention to the importance of Sallust, Cicero, and others for understanding the character of Machiavelli’s repub- licanism. Most prominently, Skinner (2002, esp. chaps. 5–7) sees Machiavelli as a ‘‘neo-Roman’’ thinker decisively influenced by Sallust and Cicero and best understood in this ‘‘civic republican’’ tradition. We agree that Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ is Machiavelli’s target, but differ from them in assessing Machiavelli’s aim. We begin, then, by establishing Machiavelli’s rejection of the ‘‘true way’’ as impos- sible, and interpret his championing of the tumul- tuous, acquisitive, and expansionist state represented by Rome as a radical rejection of the very under- standing of politics that Skinner and the Cambridge school are eager to attribute to him. Releasing the libido dominandi that Augustine condemns, however, leads to a problem of ‘‘corruption’’ in the people. Skinner (2002) and others (e.g., Viroli 1998) thus correctly note Machiavelli’s overriding concern with ‘‘corruption,’’ but once again misidentify Machiavelli’s remedy. We therefore turn to Machiavelli’s solution in ‘‘ordering’’ and ‘‘reordering’’ the state. This ordering or founding is exemplified for Machiavelli, as it was for Augustine, by Romulus. Yet Machiavelli exculpates Romulus where Augustine condemns him, not by arguing that Romulus is to be excused because of the public-spiritedness of his actions but by suggesting how Romulus’ ambition redounded to the good of the state. Ordering must be repeated through periodic reordering for the maintenance of the state, and we therefore turn to Machiavelli’s discussion of Junius Brutus’ reordering of Rome.

The Impossibility of the ‘‘True Way’’

Like both the Roman civic republicans and Augus- tine, Machiavelli is concerned with the problem of political corruption, but rather than promoting a virtuous, pacific, and nonexpansionist state, he em- braces an acquisitive state that channels the libido dominandi Augustine condemned. Before providing his own solution to persistent problem of corruption, Machiavelli has to show the unworkability of the alternative. Though Machiavelli anticipates a number of his major concerns in the first five chapters of the Discourses—the problem of corruption, the juxtapo- sition of the model of Rome as he understands it

against the model of the ‘‘true way’’ of a civic repub- lic, and the solution of ordering and reordering— his critique of the Augustinian understanding of political stability becomes explicit at Discourses.I.6. There, Machiavelli recalls Augustine (CG XV.5) by observing that the founder of a state must decide whether ‘‘he wished it to expand like Rome’’ or whether it should ‘‘remain within narrow limits’’ like Sparta or Venice. Of course, Augustine’s stated preference is for the nonexpansionist path not taken by Rome: recalling Sallust’s ‘‘true way,’’ Machiavelli terms the model exemplified by Sparta as ‘‘the true political way of life [il vero vivere politico] and the true quiet of a city’’ (I.6.4). Like Augustine, however, Machiavelli holds such a way to be impossible: ‘‘Without doubt I believe that if the thing could be held balanced in this mode, it would be the true political way of life and the true quiet of the city. But since all things of men are in motion and cannot stay steady, they must either rise or fall’’ (I.6.4; emphasis supplied). The reason Machiavelli provides for this impossibility is the ‘‘corruption’’ he has already identified as a persistent problem. Machiavelli ex- plains that both external necessities and domestic considerations require an expansionist state: ‘‘if heaven were so kind that it did not have to make war, from that would arise the idleness to make it either effeminate or divided; these two things to- gether, or each by itself, would be the cause of its ruin.’’ The state must be designed so that ‘‘if indeed necessity brings it to expand, it can conserve what it has seized.’’ The ‘‘middle way’’ of an externally pacific and internally balanced state is impossible for both external and internal considerations. Thus Machiavelli believes it ‘‘necessary to follow the Ro- man order and not that of other republics’’ (I.6.4), and rejects the ‘‘true way’’ of a civic republic both as a historical reality and as an authoritative normative principle (see also Connell 2001).

Exculpating Sin City: Romulus’ Exemplary Founding

If Machiavelli’s departure from Augustine and others who condemn Romulus for his fratricide is obvious, if important, for grasping his innovations on the tradition, then what is perhaps more revelatory for understanding his reinterpretation of Rome is how Romulus’ ambition provide the clue to Rome’s success. Romulus’ actions as Machiavelli interprets them indicate the central importance of ordering and reordering for maintaining the state, an importance unappreciated by the Roman historians themselves or

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by Augustine, or by Machiavelli’s civic republican predecessors who wrote under the dual influence of the Classical and Christian interpretation of the ancient republic. Ordering and reordering is neces- sary because the ‘‘matter’’ of the state, its members, must continually be given ‘‘form’’ in order to resist corruption (see Prince VI [1998, 23]). Because of the nature of the material and the need for repeated reorderings, Machiavelli rejects Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ not only as historically inaccurate but also as a theoretical impossibility. He therefore joins Augus- tine in dismissing the nostalgic view of Rome while embracing the ambitious and violent means that repelled Augustine.

Machiavelli’s defense of Romulus constitutes an obvious and self-conscious rejection of the received opinion, and Augustine is among the most influential advocates of the conventional view. Indeed Machia- velli’s discussion of Romulus is intimately related to Augustine’s account and implicitly critical of it. Machiavelli’s rehabilitation of Romulus occurs in Discourses I.9: ‘‘That It Is Necessary To Be Alone If One Wishes To Found A Republic Anew Or Reform It Outside Its Ancient Orders.’’ His title proclaims a general rule, and we should note that Machiavelli’s emphasis is already upon the Augustinian theme of Romulus’s ambition to be ‘‘alone.’’ After apologizing for keeping his reader so long in suspense by not having made any mention ‘‘of the orderers of that republic’’ (but cf. I.1.1 beg.), Machiavelli turns to Romulus. ‘‘I say that many would perhaps judge it a bad example that a founder of a civil way of life, as was Romulus, should have first killed his brother, then consented to the death of Titus Tatius the Sabine, chosen by him as a partner in the kingdom’’ (I.9.1).

There are a number of plausible candidates among classical authors for the ‘‘many’’ whose view Machia- velli opposes. Cicero criticizes Romulus for sacrificing the honestum for the utile in killing his brother (De Officiis III.41), Livy refers to Romulus’ act as the result of jealousy and ambition (Ad Urbe condita I.6), and Plutarch condemns the fratricide as a rash act borne of anger (Lives, ‘‘Comparison of Romulus with Theseus,’’ 1864, 47). Given that Machiavelli’s own discussion of the question of whether dishonest means can be used for useful ends appears to respond to Cicero, scholars frequently adduce Cicero as Machiavelli’s main target here. These scholars typically argue that Machiavelli departs from Cicero and the tradition following him all the way through the Quattrocento civic humanists solely—if dramatically—in his justification of the use of unjust means for a good end, all the while insisting

that Machiavelli continues to subscribe to the tradi- tional classical and civic republican end of a free way of life (Skinner 2002, 151, 155, 170; Viroli 1998, 96; see also Coby 1999, 41–45).

However, Machiavelli’s phrasing in his discussion of Romulus suggests less those who specifically condemn Romulus’ fratricide than those who see Romulus’s act as exemplary: as ‘‘a bad example’’ for ‘‘a founder of a civil way of life.’’ Among the critics of Romulus’ actions, only Augustine takes Romulus’ fratricide as a critical example of the character of the Rome. Machiavelli explains that Romulus’ actions might be considered a ‘‘bad example’’ because they will serve as an authoritative example for those who will act in their turn ‘‘through ambition and the desire to command’’ (I.9.1). Ambition and especially the desire to command, libido dominandi, are pre- cisely the characteristics Augustine sees in Rome and exemplified by Romulus. Augustine, then, appears to be first among those Machiavelli has in mind in justifying Romulus’ act and, related, in ascertaining the true character of Rome.

The exculpation of Romulus against the received opinion pertains to the way in which vicious means can be somehow justified by the end. Yet, closer scrutiny reveals ambiguity about the ‘‘end’’ that Romulus had in mind—or that Machiavelli has in mind. Machiavelli admits that the received opinion condemning Romulus ‘‘would be true if one did not consider what end [fine] had induced him to commit such a homicide’’ (I.9.1). Machiavelli’s explanation of the ‘‘end’’ that induced Romulus to commit fratricide takes the form of the sudden promulgation of a general rule: ‘‘This should be taken as a general rule: that it never or rarely happens that any republic or kingdom is ordered well from the beginning or reformed altogether anew outside its old orders unless it is ordered by one individual. Indeed it is necessary that one alone [uno solo] give the mode and that any such ordering depend on his mind’’ (I.9.2). At first blush, and given the title to the chapter, then, the need to be ‘‘one alone’’ in ordering or reordering seems to be the ‘‘end’’ that excuses Romulus.

These first appearances will ultimately turn out to be accurate, but Machiavelli himself first wants to give the appearance that he excuses Romulus for having acting for other and nobler ends. He explains:

So a prudent orderer of a republic, who has the intent [questo animo] to wish to help not himself but the common good, not for his own succession but for the common fatherland should contrive to have authority alone; nor will a wise understanding ever reprove anyone for an extraordinary action that he

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uses to order a kingdom or constitute a republic. It is very suitable that where the deed accuses him, the effect [effeto] excuses him; and when it is good, as was that of Romulus, it will always be excused. (I.9.2; trans. altered)

The end (or, rather, the ‘‘effect’’), it seems, justifies the means. But what is the ‘‘end’’ here? As noted above, Machiavelli’s civic republican interpreters suggest that the ‘‘end’’ that would justify Romulus’ actions is the ‘‘common good’’ understood as a free way of life. Machiavelli certainly gives this impres- sion, but closer scrutiny reveals serious difficulties with this interpretation. Readers of this chapter should recall that Machiavelli has earlier stated that Romulus’ ‘‘end’’ (fine) was in fact to found not a republic but a kingdom and, further and more problematically, that Romulus acted ‘‘for his own succession’’ and not ‘‘for the common fatherland’’ (I.2.7). Moreover, in this earlier discussion of Romulus’ ‘‘end,’’ Machiavelli argues only that the laws Romulus and the other kings made conformed to ‘‘a free way of life’’ (I.2.7). In other words, these laws happened to conform to such a way of life, whatever their intention. Machiavelli also emphasizes that these laws required reordering by those who expelled the kings. Thus it does not appear that Romulus’ ‘‘end’’ was the common good. Returning to I.9, Machiavelli argues that proof that Romulus acted for ‘‘the common good and not for his own ambition’’ was the institution of the Senate (I.9.2). However, even a cursory examination of Machiavelli’s own sources reveals that Romulus ordered the Senate for his own purposes and not for the common good (see Livy Ab Urbe condita I.8, 15–16). This point was made by Machiavelli’s friend Guicciardini in his commentary on the Discourses (in Atkinson and Sices 2002, 400). In sum, Machiavelli’s own discussion of Romulus’ ‘‘end’’ undermines the impression that it was acting for the ‘‘common good’’ that justifies his criminal means.

Romulus in Machiavelli’s accounting appears, in fact, to have acted in order to ‘‘be alone,’’ which was the first impression he gave. Machiavelli thereby accepts Augustine’s characterization of Romulus’ ambitious desire to be ‘‘one only’’ (unus esset) in his authority. Machiavelli even underscores Romulus’ desire to ‘‘be alone’’ when he again departs from his sources when he adds to the charge of fratricide by alleging that Romulus ‘‘consented’’ to the death of his colleague, Titus Tatius, and giving that offense con- siderably more emphasis than his sources (see Livy, Ad Urbe condita I.14; see Mansfield 1979, 63). Romulus therefore removed not just his brother,

but every rival. Neither Romulus’ ‘‘intent’’ nor the ‘‘end’’ he had in mind matter for Machiavelli if the ‘‘effect’’ was good. The ‘‘intent’’ need not be the same thing as the ‘‘end’’ or ‘‘effect’’ of an action, and the ‘‘effect’’ of Romulus’ actions was good despite his ‘‘intent’’ (see Fontana 1999, 649; Lefort 1972, 488–91, 610–11).

Machiavelli is interested less in understanding Romulus’ motives than he is in the exemplary status of the need to ‘‘be alone’’ in ordering or reordering a state, as the title of the chapter indicates. Machiavelli is unclear in this context on why a prudent orderer or reorderer must be ‘‘one alone,’’ except to say that the ordering must depend upon his ‘‘mind’’ (animo) alone (I.9.2). Or, alternatively, that the ordering requires having a single ‘‘authority’’ that directs the ordering, as in the case of Moses, Lycurgus, and Solon (I.9.3). An obvious answer about at least the motivation or ‘‘end’’ of the orderer himself, however, is provided once again by Augustine: glory. In his discussion of Romulus’ fratricide, Augustine empha- sizes that he wanted to be ‘‘alone’’ so that he did not have to share the glory. Machiavelli, too, points to glory as the reward for Romulus: ‘‘And truly, if a prince seeks the glory of the world, he ought to desire to possess a corrupt city . . . to reorder it as did Romulus. And truly the heavens cannot give to men a greater opportunity for glory, nor can men desire any greater’’ (I.10.6). Romulus’ ambition to rule and his desire for glory—glory such as founding a state that bore his name for centuries—is a necessary spur to such ordering and reordering. Machiavelli and Au- gustine thus essentially agree on Romulus’ motives, but Machiavelli praises what Augustine condemns. As for the interpreter who might ‘‘excuse’’ the deed because of its ‘‘effect,’’ the necessity of ordering itself, and the need to be ‘‘alone’’ in doing so, is what excuses the actions of Romulus. ‘‘What is excused is not merely the means of homicide but also the end (in the sense of aim) of seeking sole authority’’ (Mansfield 1979, 65). Machiavelli thus agrees with Augustine’s account of Romulus’ desire to be ‘‘alone,’’ but sees in this solitary orderer an example that provides the key to Rome’s success.

Romulus represents for Machiavelli the impor- tance of ordering—and reordering—for Rome’s suc- cess. Romulus is Machiavelli’s exemplar in the Discourses of an orderer, but the title of the chapter in which he justifies Romulus’ actions suggests the close relationship between ordering and reordering: ‘‘That It Is Necessary To Be Alone If One Wishes To Found A Republic Anew Or Reform It Outside Its Ancient Orders’’ (I.9). In this chapter Romulus

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appears to be the exemplar of an ‘‘orderer’’ of a republic (although Machiavelli adds ‘‘kingdom’’ at I.9.2) and the Spartan Cleomenes appears to be the exemplar of a reformer of ancient orders. Machiavelli nonetheless introduces Cleomenes as an example of ‘‘those who desire to be orderers of good laws’’ (I.9.4; emphasis supplied), and we learn in the next chapter that Romulus ‘‘reordered’’ Rome (I.10.6; emphasis supplied; see also I.18.5). Ordering and reordering are thus not distinguishable. As Pocock explains in analyzing the parallel discussion of Romulus and other new princes in chapter 6 of The Prince: ‘‘What Machiavelli is saying here, I think, is that the pure case of the prophet or legislator, who finds the people inert matter and molds them into form in a way that owes nothing to fortuna, never exists in reality . . . . There is always an antecedent structure of habit and memory . . . ’’ (1972, 171–72; see also Pocock 1975, 175). Pocock’s explanation of the ordering as reor- dering in moments of founding by new princes is useful even if he does not fully appreciate Machia- velli’s insistence upon continual reordering as the secret of Rome’s success and, thus, Machiavelli’s break with the civic republican tradition in which Pocock locates him.

Romulus Redux: Brutus and the Reordering of Rome

Although Machiavelli hints at the essential role that reordering in his understanding of Rome’s success from the outset of the Discourses, reordering becomes his explicit theme at the outset of Book III: ‘‘If One Wishes a Sect or a Republic to Live Long, It is Necessary to Draw It Back Often toward Its Begin- ning’’ (III.1.Title). While he cites a number of examples of such reordering in Roman history, his main example soon becomes Lucius Junius Brutus, who expelled the Tarquins and established the re- public. Machiavelli’s discussion of Brutus is part of a general reflection on the necessity of reordering for states. Reordering is by the tendency for people to become ‘‘corrupt,’’ no longer observing the law or religion. He explains that the lives of ‘‘mixed bodies’’ such as a state or a sect can be prolonged if they are led ‘‘toward their beginnings’’ (III.1.1). By these ‘‘beginnings,’’ Machiavelli means especially the fear that leads men to obey the laws of an orderer in the first place, contrary to their lawless inclinations. Drawing the state ‘‘back toward its beginnings’’ requires ‘‘putting that terror and that fear in men’’ experienced in its ordering (III.1.3). Such punish- ments are Machiavelli’s own ‘‘true way’’ (see III.28.1).

Brutus is his main example of a reordering done through ‘‘intrinsic prudence,’’ which he explains can be effected through institutions (‘‘orders’’) and actors (‘‘men’’). The ‘‘orders’’ of Rome such as the tribunes, the censors, and the attendant laws need to be ‘‘brought to life’’ by virtuous men. This inspiriting process arises best through punishments or execu- tions that revive men’s ‘‘memory and fear’’ of ‘‘their beginnings.’’ The execution of the sons of Brutus is the most notable example of this in Roman history, and he therefore concludes III.1 by turning to ‘‘Brutus, father of Roman liberty’’ (III.1.6).

Machiavelli’s discussion of Brutus contains a number of parallels to his discussion of Romulus, including the use of murderous means and ambiguity about the end. Machiavelli’s Brutus is at once more public spirited and more ambitious than the Livian original. In Discourses III.2, Machiavelli takes Brutus as his example of the general adage announced in the title: ‘‘That It Is a Very Wise Thing to Simulate Craziness at the Right Time.’’ Whereas Livy attributes Brutus’ feigned stupidity to his desire to live securely and maintain his patrimony against the kings (see Ad Urbe condita I.56), Machiavelli explicitly departs from his source by assigning his motive ‘‘to be less observed and to have more occasion for crushing the kings and freeing his own fatherland whenever opportunity would be given him’’ (DL III.2.1; see Mansfield 1979, 305–306). The rape of Lucretia, then, was precisely the ‘‘opportunity’’ Brutus awaited. Her rape and suicide prove to be less a rallying cry for outraged virtue than a convenient pretext for Brutus and the Senate to reassert themselves against the ‘‘extraordinary and hateful’’ Tarquin, whose son had committed the rape. As Pitkin (1987, 247–48) notes, Machiavelli nearly fails to mentions to Lucretia at all, especially in contrast to Livy, who dwells on her rape and suicide, as does Augustine.5 Machiavelli instead states that Tarquin was ‘‘expelled not because his son had raped Lucretia, but because he had broken the laws of the kingdom and governed it tyrannically, as he had taken away all authority from the Senate and adapted it for himself.’’ As Machiavelli explains, ‘‘if the accident of Lucretia had not come, as soon as another had arisen it would have brought the same effect.’’ The ‘‘accident’’ of Lucretia’s rape gave Brutus the opportunity to reorder Rome.

The two actions Brutus took to secure the new republic that drew Augustine’s attention were his

5 Augustine offers a lengthy discussion of Lucretia (CG I.19–28)

that treats her suicide as archetypal of Roman virtue, namely concluding that her action was ultimately driven by pride.

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roles in the expulsion of his colleague, Collatinus, and the execution of his sons. Recall that Augustine was ambivalent about Brutus’ killing of his sons, a tragic deed required by the city of man, but unreserved in his criticism of Brutus’ treatment of Collitinus, which he interpreted as an ambitious deed motivated by the desire to be ‘‘alone’’ in the glory of reordering Rome. Machiavelli pairs Brutus with his colleague Collati- nus, the husband of Lurcretia, in his account of the ‘‘accident’’ that allowed him to execute his plan to reorder Rome (III.5.1), but then Collatinus drops out of his discussion of Brutus. However, Collatinus stars in Machiavelli’s earlier account in I.28 of Rome’s comparative lack of ‘‘ingratitude’’ toward its citizens. He states that Collatinus ‘‘went into exile for no cause other than that he bore the name of the Tarquins, even though he had been found to have freed Rome’’ (I.28.1). The absence of mention of Junius Brutus here only serves to remind the reader of his role in expelling his colleague. In Livy’s account, Brutus, having garnered great glory through the expulsion of the Tarquins and wielding the kingly power as consul and (alone) attended by the symbol of royal power, the fasces (see DL I.25), calls an assembly where he confronts a dumbfounded Collatinus with the de- mand that he leave Rome because of his name (see Livy, Ad Urbe condita II.1–2). Machiavelli’s charac- terization of the expulsion of Collatinus merely for bearing the name of Tarquin suggests that he agrees with Augustine in his characterization of Brutus’ motives—namely to be alone in the glory of reorder- ing Rome—though he silently approves the means which Augustine condemns.

Just as he makes Romulus the exemplar of a general adage that one must be ‘‘alone’’ in ordering and reordering a state, so too Machiavelli turns Brutus’ action into a chilling ‘‘catch phrase’’ (Coby 1999, 52): ‘‘That it is Necessary to Kill the Sons of Brutus If One Wishes to Maintain a Newly Acquired Freedom’’ (III.3). After remarking on the ‘‘example rare in all memories of things’’ of Brutus condemning his sons and witnessing their execution, Machiavelli transforms this extraordinary act into an exemplary one. ‘‘This will always be known by those who read of ancient things: that after a change of state, either from republic to tyranny or from tyranny to republic, a memorable execution against the enemies of present conditions is necessary’’ (III.3.1). Contrary to Pocock (1975, 204–205), who acknowledges Ma- chiavelli’s argument for reordering yet suggests that ‘‘we must refrain from entering the time process as far as it is possible to do so,’’ Machiavelli approves of regular reordering and almost relishes their necessary

bloodiness. Having generalized the extraordinary, therefore Machiavelli transforms it into a maxim: ‘‘Whoever takes up a tyranny and does not kill Brutus, and whoever makes a free state and does not kill the sons of Brutus, maintains himself for little time’’ (III.3.1). ‘‘Brutus’’ and the ‘‘sons of Brutus’’ become actors in Machiavelli’s morality play, with ‘‘Kill the Sons of Brutus!’’ the rallying cry.

In this context, Machiavelli refers his reader back to Discourses I.16, the topic of which is the difficulty of a people in maintaining its freedom if it is used to living under a prince and ‘‘by Some Accident It Becomes Free’’ (I.16 title). Rome after the expulsion of the Tarquins is Machiavelli’s example here, and his remedy for the inconveniences of such a situation is the first case of his rallying cry: ‘‘If one wishes to remedy these inconveniences and the disorders writ- ten above might bring with them, there is no remedy more powerful, nor more valid, more secure, and more necessary, than to kill the sons of Brutus’’ (I.16.4). Brutus himself warrants no mention here, for his actions in reordering are exemplary: capable of being generalized into a maxim. This earlier recom- mendation to ‘‘kill the sons of Brutus’’ is the turning point in Machiavelli’s analysis in the beginning of the Discourses of the problem of the ‘‘corruption’’ of the people and how to solve it. Reordering—or bringing the state back to its ‘‘beginnings’’—is Machiavelli’s solution.

Machiavelli’s earlier discussion in Discourses I.16 of ‘‘killing the sons of Brutus’’ as a solution to the problem of corruption is part of a series of chapters (I.16–20) on the question of corruption in which his departure from the ‘‘true way’’ of classic civic repub- licans as well as from Augustine becomes manifest and in which the extent of his reinterpretation of Rome can be glimpsed. This series of chapters follows another series devoted to the question of Roman religion (I.11– 15) in which Machiavelli stresses the political uses of religion. Machiavelli begins this discussion of religion by praising Numa over Romulus: ‘‘Although Rome had Romulus as its first orderer,’’ he begins I.11, ‘‘none- theless, since the heavens judged that the orders of Romulus would not suffice for such an empire,’’ they inspired the choice of Numa as his successor, and Numa, finding ‘‘a very ferocious people,’’ wanted to reduce the people to civil obedience ‘‘with the arts of peace’’ and therefore ‘‘turned to religion’’ (I.11.1). Here it is useful to recall that Augustine, in his discussion of early Rome, reserved his praise solely for the religiosity and ‘‘arts of peace’’ of Numa, which he averred should have been Rome’s permanent policy. Machiavelli, though he joins Augustine in preferring

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Numa to Romulus, does so for very un-Augustinian reasons: religion, he explains, was deemed necessary by ‘‘the heavens’’ in order to acquire ‘‘an empire.’’ In stark contrast to Augustine, Machiavelli’s emphasis is on the uses of religion for an ambitious and acquisitive state, which is precisely his theme in the ensuing chapters on religion. When employed as an ‘‘art of peace’’ rather than of war, religion is a source of corruption.

Machiavelli therefore revises his initial assess- ment of Numa and Romulus in the following series of chapters on corruption that begins with his counsel to ‘‘kill the sons of Brutus.’’ This revision comes at I.19, appropriately titled, ‘‘After an Excellent Prince a Weak Prince Can Maintain Himself, but after a Weak One no Kingdom can be Maintained by Another Weak One.’’ Here, Numa is said to have ‘‘not so much virtue’’ as Romulus, and Numa’s ‘‘arts of peace’’ are revealed to be parasitic on the ‘‘belli- cose’’ virtue of his predecessor. Had Rome followed Numa’s pacifistic policies, she would have become ‘‘effeminate and the prey of its neighbors’’ (I.19.4). Such ‘‘corruption’’ was precisely the reason Machia- velli rejected as impossible the ‘‘true political way of life and the true quiet of the city.’’

Truth and the True Way

Machiavelli’s treatment of the use and abuse of reli- gion in relation to the ‘‘ordering’’ of Rome lead us to a perhaps unavoidable issue facing any interpretation of Machiavelli’s thought in relation to Augustine, a subject we can only broach here: Machiavelli’s view of Christianity. The vast literature on this highly controversial subject can be broadly (if somewhat crudely) characterized in the following way: one group of scholars argues that Machiavelli is sincere in his claims to be a Christian or at least sees his thought as being in the broad orbit of Augustine’s conception of politics in a fallen world, while another group con- tends that Machiavelli is highly critical of Christianity, especially for its political effects. Although there remain large disagreements within and across these groups—including as to whether, even granted his criticisms of Christianity, Machiavelli believes that some versions or ‘‘interpretations’’ of Christianity can be salutary for political life (see esp. DL III.1.4)— space constraints leave us unable to wade into these debates here. Thus we restrict ourselves to a brief examination of the most obvious passage from the Discourses where Christianity is at issue, and therefore where Machiavelli may have Augustine in mind, namely his discussion of the ‘‘truth and the true

way’’ of ‘‘our religion’’ as opposed to the pagan religions of ancient peoples.

We have already noted how Machiavelli opens the Discourses by complaining that his contempora- ries admire but do not think of imitating the political deeds of the ancients in part because of ‘‘the weakness into which the present religion has led the world’’ prevents a useful engagement with the ancient histories (DL I.Preface.2). The Roman achievement somehow looks smaller once viewed through a Christian—and especially an Augustinian—lens. Machiavelli returns to this subject later at Discourses II.2, where he details the Romans’ obstinate defense of their freedom against others. Once again he turns to religion as a central explanation for the difference between ancients and moderns:

Thinking then whence it can arise that in those ancient times peoples were more lovers of freedom than in these, I believe it arises from the same cause that makes men less strong now, which I believe is the difference between our education and the an- cient, founded on the difference between our religion and the ancient. For our religion, having shown the truth and the true way, makes us esteem less the honor of the world, whereas the Gentiles, esteeming it very much and have placed the highest good in it, were more ferocious in their actions. (II.2.2)

Machiavelli echoes his initial remark in the Discourses about the ‘‘the weakness into which the present religion has led the world,’’ and he does so using language about ‘‘truth and the true way’’ that evokes both Augustine and the ‘‘true way’’ of civic repub- licanism he rejected as impossible earlier in the work. The two ‘‘true ways’’ are connected for Machiavelli, for they both lead to ‘‘idleness’’—an ‘‘ambitious idleness’’ in the case of Christianity (see Sullivan 1996a, chap. 2; Rahe 2008, chap. 2)—that produces weakness and finally corruption. If, then, Machiavelli joins Augustine in viewing Sallust’s ‘‘true way’’ as impossible, he just as adamantly rejects Augustine’s interpretation of ‘‘the truth and the true way’’ of Christianity. We thereby arrive at a familiar (if still controversial) conclusion, but we do so by way of a path as yet untrodden by anyone, namely by showing how Machiavelli puts elements of Augustine’s inter- pretation of Roman history in the service of a decidedly un-Augustinian political vision.

Conclusion

We have examined Machiavelli’s reordering of Rome in light of Augustine’s City of God in order to

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understand the character of his republicanism and the extent of his innovation with regard to his sources. We have shown not only how Machiavelli follows Augustine in regarding the ‘‘true way’’ of Sallust as a bit romantic if not impossible, but also how Machiavelli embraces the ambitious and acquis- itive portrait of Rome that Augustine criticized. More particularly, we have examined Machiavelli’s critical engagement with Augustine regarding the reasons for Rome’s success and failure and argued that Machia- velli sees in the paradigmatic actions of Romulus and Brutus in ordering and reordering Rome—actions Augustine condemned—the secret to Rome’s success, an insight unappreciated by the Roman political theorists and historians, Augustine, or Machiavelli’s civic republican contemporaries.

Given Machiavelli’s reputation as a ‘‘realist’’ who criticizes those who, like Augustine, have imagined ‘‘republics and principalities’’ that ‘‘have never been seen or known to exist in truth’’ (chap. 15 [1998, 61]; emphasis supplied), it is fair to wonder about the practicality of Machiavelli’s own solution to the problem of political corruption. Is it reasonable to think that prudent (re)orderers will emerge every generation? On this score we note that, despite his intriguing remark that successive reordering might make a perpetual republic possible at least in principle (DL III.22.3; see III.1.3, but compare III.17), Machia- velli generally agrees with Augustine in thinking that there is no permanent practical solution to the problem posed by political corruption. However in seeking to identify the conditions under which states can run ‘‘the whole course that is ordered for them by heaven’’ (III.1.1), Machiavelli does not necessarily make un- reasonable assumptions about the capacities of found- ers and refounders. Indeed, our analysis shows that Machiavelli’s exemplary state was ordered and reor- dered not by omniscient and foresighted lawgivers, but rather by ambitious power seekers with somewhat narrow personal aims. The emergence of Republican Rome was a happy accident, an unanticipated effect of individual ambition. The fact that both Romulus and Brutus failed to fully envisage the significance of their acts suggests not only that Machiavelli’s political theory does not require perfectly foresighted politi- cians, but also that the emergence of a successful state owes much to fortune as well as to virtue.

If Machiavelli’s willingness to follow Augustine in acknowledging the myopic selfishness and deceitful- ness of Roman heroes shows he is no utopian, then his effort to reconceptualize their selfishness in ways that expand our sense of political possibility shows he is not exactly a pessimist either. Indeed, Machiavelli

engages with Augustine and others neither to simply decry nor to simply celebrate the Roman achieve- ment, but rather to reveal a new and as yet untried set of political possibilities, possibilities to be enacted by those who—like the virtuous addressees of the Discourses—only need states in order to be princes. Of course, the new theoretical space that Machiavelli opens has its limits, and the great Florentine is, we have suggested, too circumspect about the possibil- ities that he himself celebrates to think them unpro- blematic. Indeed Machiavelli follows Augustine in emphasizing the dangers of the ambitious, acquis- itive, and sinful practices that characterize the earthly city, and in acknowledging the fact that certain kinds of limits necessarily attend the political life.

Yet we think it is ultimately a mistake to characterize Machiavelli’s vision of politics as a secularized version of Augustine’s understanding of the limited horizons of the earthly city. Rather, Machiavelli creatively engages with the framework of thought stamped strongly by Augustine in order to articulate a new vision of politics (see Fontana 1999, 658). Augustine’s ultimate judgment concerning the city of man was informed by a view of history in which the rise and fall of Rome was significant because it prepared the world for the ascendance of Christianity. In opposition to Augustine’s linear conception of history, Machiavelli articulates a cycli- cal theory of history very early in the Discourses, thereby signaling his effort to invert Augustine’s narrative of prefiguration and, in so doing, to reinterpret the significance both of Rome’s fall and of Christianity’s rise. The sense of hope or qualified optimism that Machiavelli’s reinterpretation of Rome is meant to encourage thus leads us away from the Augustinian understanding of history and morality and toward a renewed willingness to court the dangerous possibilities that Augustine rejected. We conclude, then, by suggesting that Augustine and Machiavelli agree in thinking that certain kinds of limits necessarily attend political life without agreeing on what or where those limits are. If prudence consists in knowing how to choose the better of two imperfect options, then it also dictates that we opt for the earthly city—and all its difficulties—over the city of God.

Acknowledgments

We wish to thank William Connell, Rosario Dawson, Paul Rahe, and Vickie Sullivan for their helpful comments and suggestions.

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