Abstract
In this article, I challenge the critical assumption that the Clizia is only a pedestrian imitation of Plautus’ Casina and set out to demonstrate that, drawing heavily on Leon Battista Alberti's household theorization, Machiavelli structured his last play around key Albertian concepts, such as Fortune, marriage, social reputation, and thriftiness. Taking this intertext into account, I argue that Alberti's treaty On Family provides a theoretical framework within which all Clizia's characters move. The play then is not just an imitation of classical models, but also Machiavelli's answer to a hypothetical question: What happens when Fortune causes the Albertian paterfamilias to go suddenly astray? As Machiavelli shows, the household would succumb under Fortune's attacks if it were not for the character of Sofronia, who, adapting to the extraordinary events, becomes a Machiavellian wife to preserve the Albertian family model. Thanks to her amoral tactics, she saves the household from ruin, restores the hierarchical internal division of roles, and even forges a new alliance for the family. Blurring the boundaries between domestic and public sphere, through the Clizia Machiavelli proves that Machiavellianism belongs in the Albertian household.
Keywords
Introduction
Since its first staging in 1525, Niccolò Machiavelli's play, Clizia, was highly praised by his contemporaries, almost echoing the extraordinary triumph of The Mandrake Root. One of its first spectators, Filippo de’ Neri, lauded Machiavelli, informing him that Clizia was acclaimed in Tuscany and even further in Lombardy (Machiavelli, 1967: 418). However, despite its high popularity at the time, Machiavelli's last play is critically neglected and regarded as a minor work in modern times (see Inglese, 2005: 498). 1 Modern critics often do not devote sufficient attention to Clizia, downplaying it in light of a supposed didactic moralism, an alleged indebtedness to Plautus’ Casina, or, finally, an assumed artistic inferiority to The Mandrake Root (see Davico Bonino, 2000: LXIV; Fachard, 2013: 28; Raimondi, 1998: 81–97; Stoppelli, 2017: 244–250) . However, what does it mean to distinguish between a minor and a major Machiavellian work? How does such an approach ultimately affect our understanding of the evolution of Renaissance theater and Machiavelli's role as a dramatist?
In this article, I aim to refocus on Clizia by highlighting the striking similarities between the play and Leon Battista Alberti's treatise On Family. Both Alberti's influence on Machiavelli and his crucial role in the evolution of Renaissance theater are well assessed (Anselmi, 2007: 837; McLaughlin, 2007: 115–139). However, even the most recent and valid scholarship on Clizia tends to overlook this potential influence, preferring instead to employ Clizia as a testing ground for verifying the validity of Machiavelli's political formulations or proving his proto-feminist mindset (Fabbri, 2019: 65–83; Vilches, 2007: 219–244; Yael, 2011: 44). Through a close reading of Clizia, I maintain that Machiavelli consistently structures his last play around key Albertian concepts, such as Fortune, marriage, social reputation, and thriftiness (masserizia). Considering this intertextuality, I argue that Clizia is also an elaborate theatrical experiment in which all the characters, specifically that of Sofronia, act out Machiavelli's political views within the larger framework of the Albertian theorization of household.
Thus, far from being a minor work, Clizia emerges as the product of a fascinating dialogue between Machiavelli's imitation of classic works and engagement with contemporary values. In Clizia, Machiavelli's reworking of Plautus’ Casina is mediated by Alberti's treatise. Instead of merely translating a classic work, Machiavelli draws on Plautus’ well-known comedy and adapts it to the humanist values of Alberti's On Family to prove that only Machiavelli's political theories can both preserve the Albertian household against Fortune's assaults and fulfill its utilitarian benefits.
However, Machiavelli does not advocate for a domestic revolution, as argued by Faulkner in his groundbreaking work: Clizia and the Enlightenment of Private Life (2017: 30–56). Rather, what Machiavelli claims in his last play is that the Albertian model cannot sustain Fortune's assaults without Machiavellianism. 2 Notably, Machiavelli's critique of Alberti's treatise is similar to his critique of Aristotelian political treatises in The Prince, that is, all these treatises suffer from extreme idealism. Hence, as he does in The Prince for the disastrous political situation in the Italian peninsula, Machiavelli shows that even in the domestic sphere, it is necessary to consider the complexity of human nature independent from the moral sphere. It is only by facing reality that the Albertian model can ultimately be protected from its own impractical idealism. Thus, Machiavellianism is what makes it possible to put to practice the ideal household envisioned by Alberti in everyday life.
By engaging with Alberti's treatise and applying his political theories to a play that revolves around a family, Machiavelli manages to blur the line that traditionally separates public politics from the private, domestic sphere. And he does so, not casually, through the character of Sofronia, Nicomaco's wife. In On Family, Alberti assigned the role of taking care of the domestic affairs of the household to the wife. In Clizia, Machiavelli employs precisely Sofronia to prove that Machiavellianism belongs even to the Albertian household. Far from being a monolithic character, she adapts to the extraordinary dramatic events unfolding before her eyes and, to preserve the Albertian family model, she becomes a Machiavellian wife. By so doing, Clizia also stages the blurring of the traditional demarcation line between domestic and public spheres. Yet, even in this regard, as the article will show, Machiavelli appears to be in conversation with Alberti, who, in his architectural treatise On the Art of Building in Ten Books, posited an explicit correlation between the household and the city. 3
What happens when Fortune causes the Albertian paterfamilias to suddenly go astray? I argue that Clizia is Machiavelli's answer to this hypothetical question. To formulate his response, Machiavelli structures the play in a way that the ideal Albertian model is initially put in crisis by Fortune's assault against the household, represented in the play by the inclusion of a “stranger”—Clizia—into the family. Later, Machiavelli describes the negative consequences on the family dynamics of such an inclusion by depicting both Nicomaco and Cleandro as being desperately in love with Clizia. However, at the moment when the household—and, symbolically, its Albertian model—is about to collapse, Machiavelli entrusts its salvation to Sofronia, who saves the household by employing Machiavellian methods. To remind her husband of his duties, Sofronia carries out a beffa (prank) that includes blackmailing her depraved husband without endangering her family. As a result, afraid of public infamy, Nicomaco is once again the paterfamilias and the family, in accordance with Alberti's tenets, has even managed to maximize its most important asset, Clizia, by forging a new social alliance with the wealthy and noble Ramondo.
Thanks to her Machiavellian mindset, Sofronia saves the household from ruin, restores the Albertian hierarchical internal division of roles, and forges a new alliance for the family. Hence, far from being a pedestrian imitation, Clizia presents itself as the product of an engaged literary conversation between two of the greatest Renaissance thinkers. Drawing and expanding Alberti's theoretical assertions, through Clizia, Machiavelli breaks down the separation between household and public society by proving that Machiavellianism knows no boundaries. As The Prince can be seen as a collection of remedies against Fortune in a political career, Clizia should be regarded as a reflection of the consequences of Fortune on a typical Albertian household. The enemy is always the unfathomable Fortune, and the cure is always Machiavellianism.
Lovers as soldiers, and Clizia as Casus Belli
In the Prologue of Clizia, Machiavelli implicitly acknowledges that he has drawn his last play from Plautus’ Casina by referring to the Polybian cyclical theory of historical occurrences, also known as anacyclosis. As he says in his advice to the audience: If men reappeared in the world in the same way as do events, not a hundred years would go by before we would find ourselves together again, doing the same things as now (Machiavelli, 2007: 279 [Prologue]).
4
Machiavelli employs the theory to justify the supposed unoriginality of the play in light of the dominant Renaissance practice of imitatio. 5 Although drawing on something written long ago, a classical comedy can nevertheless still be meaningful to a contemporary audience because it deals with eternal values, as long as it is adapted to contemporary standards (see Ascoli, 2008: 459–465; Stoppelli, 2017: 239–240). 6 Machiavelli states that he set Clizia in Florence and wrote it in modern vernacular because Athens is time was in ruins and no one among the audience would have understood classical Greek. Nonetheless, through a well-structured plot and mastery of the target language, Clizia manages “to be of use and of delight” which is the ultimate goal any play should strive for according to Machiavelli (2007: 283 [Prologue]). 7
The reference to the Polybian anacyclosis reveals Machiavelli's attitude toward the practice of imitation. Never a pedantic humanist, Machiavelli looked at classical works as a “vital stimulus,” and Clizia is no exception (Atkinson, 2007: 32). Besides the obvious linguistic and geographical adjustments, Clizia is, in fact, only slightly indebted to Plautus’ Casina. 8 Notably, as shown by Davico Bonino, up until the third act, Machiavelli's comedy is deeply original (2000: 56). Within such artistic elaboration, the most revised characters are those of the husband and wife (Padoan, 1981: 471–472). Regarding the former, while Plautus presents Lysidamus as paterfamilias who has always been corrupt, Machiavelli's Nicomaco, as it will be shown, has always been an upright father and husband, whose character is gradually corrupted. Regarding the character of the wife, in Casina, Cleostrata is spurred to action by her jealousy and, above all, because she cannot bear the patriarchal domestic structure. Compared to Cleostrata, Machiavelli's Sofronia is a significantly more complex character. As will be shown, she goes against Nicomaco's erotic madness ultimately to preserve her family from ruination (see Di Maria, 2013: 50–60).
By referring to the historical constancy of human affairs in the Prologue, Machiavelli also links the play to his major political writings. Indeed, the idea is at the core of The Prince as well as The Discourses (Dotti, 2014: 7–56; Mansfield, 1998: VII–XXIV). As Machiavelli explains in The Prince, the ultimate value of his treatise lies in the fact that it summarizes and explains “the understanding of great men's actions” (1989a: 10 [Dedication])9 It allows its recipient to act according to the principle of imitation because, as Machiavelli argues, “a prudent man will always choose to take paths beaten by great men and to imitate those who have been especially admirable” (Machiavelli, 1989a: 24 [VI]).
10
As mentioned above, Machiavelli develops the concept further in his later work: The Discourses.
11
Among the many relevant passages, the most significant passage is perhaps in Book III, where the author links the Polybian cyclical theory to the constant nature of human psychology: He who wishes to see what is to come should observe what has already happened, because all the affairs of the world, in every age, have their individual counterparts in ancient times. The reason for this is that since they are carried on by men, who have and always have had the same passions, of necessity the same results appear (Machiavelli, 1989a: 521 [III:43]).
12
The excerpt conveys the almost exact sentiments Machiavelli expressed in the Prologue regarding the recurrence of historical events. By doing so, Clizia demands to be read in connection with Machiavelli's political writings.
Set during the Carnival season of 1506, Clizia revolves around the hostile relations between different members of the same family. The paterfamilias, old Nicomaco, as well as his young son Cleandro, are in love with Clizia, a teenager adopted by the family when she was only an infant. However, they face the firm opposition of Sofronia (Nicomaco's wife and Cleandro's mother). To overcome this opposition, Nicomaco recruits one of his servants, Pirro, and persuades him to falsely marry Clizia, so that he can later take advantage of her with ease. To stop Nicomaco's reprehensible plans, Sofronia advocates instead for a different wedding, that is, a wedding between Clizia and Eustachio, the steward of her family's farm. Meanwhile, Cleandro, who is desperate to prevent this wedding, does not come up with any practical plan; all he can do is merely agree with his mother Sofronia that Eustachio would surely be a better choice for Clizia, since Pirro is “the greatest rascal in all Florence” (Machiavelli, 2007: 297 [I.1]). 13
The play transcends from this initial hostile stand-off and focuses on the characters’ masterful ability to “dissemble [their] intentions” (Vilches, 2007: 226). 14 However, it is clear from the very first act that Clizia is not just a bourgeois family drama. Machiavelli dedicates the whole second scene to Cleandro's soliloquy, in which he compares lovers to soldiers, both ultimately aimed at conquering something. This similarity is critical for understanding the whole play. If lovers and soldiers are alike, then it is also true that political theories, such as those elaborated by Machiavelli himself, can be applied to controversies revolving around love, and that Nicomaco, Cleandro, Sofronia, as well as all the minor characters, ought to be seen as actors in an ongoing political conflict (Ascoli, 2008: 465; Atkinson, 2007: 3; Faulkner, 2017: 45–47).
Cleandro ends his soliloquy by stating that his next move will prevent the sham wedding between Pirro and Clizia. However, he does not worry about planning any subsequent tactics since, as he claims, “new circumstances (accidenti) may bring me new ideas (consigli) and new opportunities (fortuna)” (Machiavelli, 2007: 299 [I.2]). 15 This brief sentence summarizes Machiavelli's political thought. A lover, as well as a soldier or a political actor, must always be ready to face events that are constantly changing due to Fortune's action. What is best for one occasion might not be right in a different context, and only he who is able to adapt himself to this constant instability made of “new circumstances,” “new ideas,” and “new opportunities” will ultimately be capable of overcoming the power of Fortune to reach his goal. However, that proves to not be the case regarding Cleandro, who becomes highly unsuccessful in achieving his goals throughout the play.
The character of Clizia, over whom there is a rivalry between Cleandro and Nicomaco, similar to soldiers from opposing armies, is another element that further bonds the play to Machiavelli's political writings.
16
Although Clizia never appears on stage, the audience knows her story in great detail from the play's opening.
17
Kidnapped in Naples by a French army general during Charles VIII's Italian campaign of 1494, Clizia was left in custody to Nicomaco, who then raised her as a stepdaughter. Clizia's adoption is thus a direct consequence, and an additional “fallout,” of those same Italian Wars which, according to Machiavelli, caused the political decline of the entire Italian peninsula (Fabbri, 2019: 70). Hence, as the French army ruined the fragile existing political equilibrium in Italy, similarly, the sudden appearance of Clizia within the family runs the risk of ruining a household. Notably, prior to the adoption of his stepdaughter, Nicomaco used to rule his family with great care. As Sofronia melancholically remarks, only a year before: [her husband] used to be a serious, resolute, considerate man. He spent his time honorably. He would get up early in the morning, go to hear mass, see to the provisions for the day. Then, if he had business in town, in the market, or at city hall, he would do it; and if he didn’t, he would either walk about talking in a dignified way with some townsman or other, or he would come back home to his study, where he would tally his accounts and balance his books. Then, he would have lunch with his friends, and after lunch he would converse with his son, he would give him lessons and instruct him all about men; using ancient and modern examples, he would teach him how to behave. Then he would go out and spend the rest of the day either in business or in serious, worthwhile activities … And so things went along, in an orderly and happy fashion (Machiavelli, 2007: 317–318 [II.4]).
18
Thus, Nicomaco is not just another Nicia. Unlike the flat, monolithic dull protagonist of The Mandrake Root, the former suffered a radical transformation: he was an exemplar Florentine paterfamilias, who diligently attended to his business and took great care in raising his son; however, as Sofronia laments, everything changed “since this fancy for that girl has gotten into him,” and consequently, the family is threatened with a downfall (Machiavelli, 2007: 319 [II.4]). 19
Leon Battista Alberti and the Renaissance Family
Though driven by his erotic passion, Nicomaco still insists upon his authority over the household. Frequently, throughout the play, he reminds his two opponents, Cleandro and Sofronia, that he alone is “the master of [his] own house” (Machiavelli, 2007: 327 [III.1]), and that he alone is in charge of deciding what is best for the family. 20 However, despite Nicomaco's claims of power, it is Sofronia who in reality runs all household affairs. She is the one who stands up against a marriage that might ruin the family's reputation and desperately tries to talk her husband out of his erotic passion (Machiavelli, 2007: 307–317 [II.3]). Yet, the fact that Sofronia appears to oversee internal household affairs would not have appeared to be “highly ironic” to a contemporary audience, as Atkinson (2007: 28) speculates (2007: 28). This argument, as the next sections will show, disregards Leon Battista Alberti's On Family and its literary and social influence. 21
Alberti's influence over Machiavelli's thought has already been assessed by recent scholarship, up to the point that some scholars regard Alberti as a surprising forerunner of Machiavelli's conception of Fortune and potential remedies (see Anselmi, 2007: 837). Not to mention that Alberti too was a playwright. In 1424, at the age of 20, he composed a Latin moral play entitled Philodoxeos fabula, which testifies to his crucial role in the early development of the Renaissance theater (Alberti, 2005: 70–169). 22 The play was among one of his first attempts to reclaim and imitate Terence, the greatest Roman playwright after Plautus. This point is suggestive because, whereas Alberti was the first great author to turn to Terence's corpus, almost a century later Machiavelli began his career as a comic dramatist by translating Terence's Andria into the modern vernacular (McLaughlin, 2007: 115–139).
Alberti's fame rests largely on his dialogic treatise On Family. Written between 1433 and 1440—almost a century prior to Machiavelli's play—, adapting Xenophon's Oeconomicus to the mercantile Florentine society, it describes the family as an economic and social basic unit (Gill, 2011: 4). Alberti's theorization grows out of a dark view of society and human conditions (Yoran, 2015: 527). As he states in the Prologue: Fortune's cruel floods quickly submerge and destroy the family that throws itself upon those waves either by abandoning restraint and moderation in prosperity or by lacking a firm posture and a prudent self-control in the face of hostile storms (Alberti, 1969a: 10 [Prologue]).
23
Due to their weaknesses, human beings are constantly exposed to Fortune's tyranny. However, Alberti does not surrender to a pessimistic attitude and instead aims through his work to: investigate with all seriousness and diligence what might be the wisdom applicable to the conduct and education of fathers and of the whole family, by which a family may rise at last to supreme happiness and under no circumstances yield to cruel and merciless Fortune (Alberti, 1969a: 10 [Prologue]).
24
According to Alberti, if it is run in accordance with certain principles, the family unit is the only pragmatic solution through which human beings might overcome such a perilous existential condition. Thus, against Fortune's unfathomable cruelty, Alberti propounds a specific model of household, which essentially revolves around two key notions: the concept of thriftiness and the division of labor between husband and wife (Gill, 2011: 4–11; Yoran, 2015: 538).
Both principles are described by the character of Giannozzo in Book III of On Family, emblematically entitled Economicus, which not only indicates “the administration of the household, but also how to make profit” (Beck-Thomsen, 2017: 46). The greatest remedy against Fortune is thriftiness (masserizia), which, as Giannozzo boasts, is a “holy thing” (Alberti, 1969a: 160 [III]).
25
Thriftiness, displayed and possessed by “those who use their possessions as the need arises and spend enough, but not more than enough,” is an attitude that guides men in their daily practical activities (Alberti, 1969a: 161 [III]).
26
It even influences where one decides to live. As Giannozzo argues, if one wants to maximize the ultimate benefits of thriftiness, he should not dwell in hectic cities. Rather, he who aims to live in accordance with the practical virtue of thriftiness should prefer the countryside and move to a farm, which is “of great, honorable, and reliable value” (Alberti, 1969a: 191-192 [III]).
27
The other major Albertian principle is the separation of tasks between the husband and wife. Giannozzo, quoting a conversation with his wife, clearly explains: your duty, dear lady, shall be to stand first in the household … to keep the whole house in order and in harmony through your conscientious supervision (Alberti, 1969a: 226 [III]).
28
Thus, while the husband always retains the supreme authority over the whole family and must take care of social relationships and economic affairs, Alberti ascribes to the wife the crucial role of managing internal household affairs (Alberti, 1969a: 264). 29
A contemporary audience would not have regarded the fact that Sofronia appears to oversee internal household affairs as ironic. In fact, as will be shown in later sections, various elements of the Clizia would have allowed spectators to potentially grasp the link between Machiavelli's play and Alberti's work. The first element that links Machiavelli's play to Alberti's treatise is the dichotomy of a secure domestic space of the family unit versus a dangerous society. Central to Alberti's On Family, the idea is repeated several times by different characters throughout Machiavelli's play (McLaughlin, 2016: 115; Romano, 1969: XXI). For instance, in the opening scene of the second act, Nicomaco reminds his servant Pirro that “everything has to be done in such a way that the whole house isn’t turned upside-down” (Machiavelli, 2007: 305 [II.2]). 30 Later on in the play, the latter cries out complaining that, in carrying out the plan, “I’ve made enemies of your wife, your son, and all the others in the house” (Machiavelli, 2007: 341 [III.6]). 31 Both Nicomaco and Pirro's fears are Alberti's fear: the anguish of being cast out of the household and exposed to Fortune's cruel domain living by oneself in an individualistic society.
A second element revelatory of an Albertian intertextuality within Machiavelli's play is provided by the character of Clizia and the way she is raised by her adopted parents. Given the resources the family has invested in her, Sofronia is constantly worried about her adopted daughter. As she reminds Nicomaco, Clizia is “such a good … girl” primarily because they “have taken the trouble of bringing her up” (Machiavelli, 2007: 309 [II.3]). 32 Notably, Alberti too devotes Book I of his On Family to the art of raising children. Even more interesting is that, as noted by Vitullo, in describing parenting, Alberti employs very ambiguous word choices that echo in Machiavelli's play, such as “responsibility,” “burden,” and “a lot of trouble” (Vitullo, 2005: 341). 33
Another relevant link between the two works is related to Eustachio, the steward of the family's farm. Opposing Nicomaco's plan, Sofronia claims that the best solution to resolve the ongoing conflict is to marry off Clizia to Eustachio because the latter, besides owning “a nice property,” is also “in the habit of … being thrifty” (“uso … a fare masserizia”) (Machiavelli, 2007: 310 [II.3]). 34 This statement is of chief importance because Sofronia explicitly quotes one of the key tenets of Alberti's On Family, the idea of thriftiness (masserizia). It is perhaps not by chance that the one who recognizes the importance of such a notion is Sofronia. According to Alberti, as a wife, she herself is supposed to run the household in accordance with the principle of thriftiness. She chooses Eustachio because, apart from his propensity to thriftiness, he also owns a farm. This point is powerful because it is Giannozzo, who introduces the concept of thriftiness in Book III of On Family; he was not a humanist but an experienced man whose aim was precisely to own a farm in the Florentine countryside (Alberti, 1969a: 186–194).
The element of Fortune appears to further tie together Clizia and Alberti's treatise. As argued by Anselmi, the views of Machiavelli and Alberti on Fortune are strikingly similar, to the point that, Chapter 25 of The Prince should be read while keeping in mind Alberti's reasoning in On Family (2007: 833–838). Expanding on this insight, it appears that in Clizia Machiavelli puts to test the family model theorized by Alberti as a remedy against “the cruel tyranny of Fortune” (Alberti, 1969a: 173 [III]). 35 The whole play can be seen as a reflection of the consequences of Fortune on an Albertian household. The inclusion of Clizia within the household is indeed the result of the Italian Wars, which are greater events largely governed by Fortune's unfathomable action. In allegorical terms, Clizia thus becomes an instrument of Fortune within the play. She never appears on stage, and her mere existence represents a testing ground for the cohesion and stability of the family. Before her adoption—that is, before the negative influence of Fortune—Nicomaco was an exemplary paterfamilias and the family, according to Sofronia, had no troubles.
Yet, the most important character to understand the relationship between Clizia and Alberti's treatise, as well as Machiavelli's aim, is that of Sofronia. As will be shown in the next section, she enacts the role of the Albertian wife and, at the same time, is also the character through which Machiavellianism enters the Albertian household.
How to preserve the Albertian household from Fortune through a Machiavellian beffa
While, allegorically speaking, Clizia is Fortune's instrument, Fortune itself enters figuratively the stage in the seventh scene of the third act and plays a role in the development of the plot. Since Sofronia does not agree to a marriage between Pirro and Clizia, Nicomaco finally decides to settle the matter once for all and abruptly declares that “we should leave it up to Fortune” (Machiavelli, 2007: 343 [III.7]). 36 He declares that he will extract a name tag from a bag while being blindfolded, and the person whose name is on the tag will be Clizia's husband. The only thing Sofronia can do, after an initial puzzlement, is to agree with her husband's resolution and hope that Eustachio's name comes up in this drawing of names. 37
As it turns out, Fortune helps Nicomaco's quest: the tag he chooses has the name of his ally, Pirro. The audience, however, already knows that before declaring his decision to rely on Fortune to Sofronia, Nicomaco had previously revealed to Pirro that, “even if luck should go against me, I have thought of a remedy” (Machiavelli, 2007: 343 [III.6]). 38 Thus, Nicomaco foresaw all possible outcomes. If Fortune looked upon him favorably, he would obtain his goal effortlessly. If not, he was nonetheless equipped with a different strategy. Thus, despite being the victim of his erotic desires, Nicomaco remains well aware of the potential social consequences of his actions and understands that he needs a well-structured plan to deceive both his wife and the whole society (Stoppelli, 2017: 245).
Cleandro, on the other hand, seems to be at the mercy of events, as testified by the first scene of the fourth act. After complaining with Eustachio about Sofronia, he goes on to blame Fortune. Remarkably, through his words, the character seems to parody Machiavelli's own theorization of Fortune. Having heard about Nicomaco's unexpected victory, Cleandro cries out: “O Fortune, since you are a woman, you really ought to be the mistress of young men; but this time you were the old man's mistress!” (Machiavelli, 2007: 351 [IV.1]). 39 It is hard to not see in his words a superficial misinterpretation of Chapter 25 of The Prince. 40 In doing so, Machiavelli depicts Cleandro as a bad reader of his own political formulations. Cleandro, in other words, wrongly believes that Fortune should help him reach his goal, given that he is young. He does not attempt to overcome his difficulties by using his ingenuity, entrusting that Fortune will spontaneously bring Clizia to him.
In the meantime, though defeated by Fortune, Sofronia does not give up her fight and secretly plans to oppose the upcoming sham wedding organized by Nicomaco. The last portion of the fourth act of Clizia is split into two opposing but concurrent movements. Both reach their apex in the seventh scene, when Sofronia finally completes her complex beffa against her husband. Notably, although Machiavelli draws an episode from Plautus’ Casina, he modifies it so that the victim is not the servant but rather the paterfamilias Nicomaco (Di Maria, 2013: 53; Stoppelli, 2017: 247).
Sofronia's plan is a choral action, performed due to her ability to coordinate all the servants of the household (Davico Bonino, 2000: LX). Instead of being physically involved, Sofronia directs all of them from behind the scenes. The servant Siro, dressed up as Clizia, spends the night with Nicomaco. Thus, instead of fulfilling his erotic desires, Nicomaco is kicked in the stomach and then, once he has fallen asleep, feels “five or six of the damnedest pokes … under the tailbone” caused by “a hard pointed object” (Machiavelli, 2007: 383 [V.2]). 41 Only at this point is the beffa revealed to him. As Doria, one of the servants, informs the audience in the opening scene of the last act of the play, “Sofronia, Sostrata, Cleandro, Eustachio—everyone has been laughing,” even Pirro and Siro (Machiavelli, 2007: 377 [V.1]). 42 Having performed the beffa under Sofronia's aegis, every household member laughs at its only oblivious victim, the now vituperated Nicomaco (D’Amico, 1984: 271).
Fortune is thus a test not only for the whole family unit but also for each of the main characters of Clizia; in a typical Machiavellian fashion, it is against such an obstacle that Cleandro, Nicomaco, and Sofronia must reveal their true value. Cleandro, believing that he can reach his goal through a passive attitude since Fortune will favor his young age, clearly fails the test. Nicomaco, instead, proves to be conscious of the need to elaborate on different plans according to mutable scenarios. However, his shrewdness ultimately serves only to better exalt Sofronia's role. She alone is able to overcome Fortune's adverse verdict and develop a plan that prevents the previous negative outcome without endangering the household.
Since it is Sofronia who carries out a beffa against her wicked old husband, now in love with his adopted daughter, critics tend to identify her character as the embodiment of the play's moral values (see Di Maria, 2007: 194; Yael, 2011: 50).
43
However, the reasons that move her to orchestrate the whole plan against Nicomaco deserve more attention. The beffa can be seen as a warning mechanism against a potentially dangerous rupture of the social order and, at the same time, as a means to reestablish the same social order. Its power, in other words, lies in the fact that it puts the victim at the mercy of the strict moral judgment of society. As seen, Sofronia herself resorts to it only as a final weapon. Having tried since the beginning of the play to persuade Nicomaco out of his degenerate erotic desire, she finally employs her beffa as the last resolution to save the household from falling apart. Sofronia explicitly states this to the aching Nicomaco: I confess that I staged all those tricks that were played on you, because there was no other way to make you see the light except to catch you in the act with so many witnesses that you would be ashamed, and shame would make you do what nothing else would (Machiavelli, 2007: 387 [V.3]).
44
Her ultimate aim is finally revealed, and through her words, it is observed that she is well aware of the inherent social power of the beffa. She planned the beffa by taking advantage of Nicomaco's flaws and, while carrying it out, she involved as many family members as possible to use them as witnesses. Thus, once it reached its full potential, Sofronia employed the beffa to blackmail Nicomaco, thereby preventing him from destroying the family (Bruscagli, 2008: 107).
However, just as Sofronia did not develop and enact the beffa just for fun, she did not execute it out of moral compassion for Clizia either. Throughout the whole play, Sofronia never refers to her adopted daughter with loving words. Instead, her main preoccupation is that, because of Nicomaco's erotic madness, the economic commodity represented by Clizia might be wasted or not fully exploited. In all this, there is no morality, but pure utilitarianism (Faulkner, 2017: 30). To marry her off to Pirro would mean, in Sofronia's view, to “throw her away,” as they would become the object of public shame and waste all their efforts and money (Machiavelli, 1989b: 832 [II.3]). 45 Therefore, she does not advocate for Clizia to get married to a different man from maternal love toward Clizia. In Sofronia's view, her adopted daughter is nothing more than a social and economic “asset,” which must be managed carefully to maximize its profit, given the investment made by the family throughout the years for her education (Faulkner, 2017: 41). Hence, not only does Sofronia run the internal household affairs, but she also does so in accordance with utilitarian rather than moralistic aims.
Furthermore, instead of denouncing the moral depravation of Nicomaco's intentions, throughout the play Sofronia seems to implicitly acknowledge the Machiavellian “effectual truth of the matter” (Machiavelli, 1989a: 57 [XV]). 46 As Faulkner noted, she understands that her husband's wicked aims are not moral vices that must be judged but rather forces that must be controlled (Faulkner, 2017: 41). Since men are corrupted and so is society, it would be pointless and ineffectual to morally deplore Nicomaco. Thus, although she moves within an Albertian framework, Sofronia fulfills her task of managing the household by employing methods rooted in the Machiavellian notion of virtù rather than on morals. With regard to the household economy and family reputation, the Machiavellian Sofronia orchestrates the ideal beffa to resolve the ongoing conflict without provoking any public scandal. It is through the character of Sofronia that Machiavelli manages to create and exploit the discrepancy between the audience's expectations—that is, the play being as either a plain imitation of Plautus’ Casina or as a mere dramatization of Alberti's treatise—and the actual meaning of the Clizia. Through Sofronia, Machiavelli causes the two hermeneutical horizons to collide, thus keeping the spectators’ alertness alive by paradoxically frustrating any easy interpretation.
However, such bewilderment should not be overcome by superimposing a straightforward ideological reading on the play. The importance attributed by Machiavelli to the character of Sofronia does not imply that he is advocating for a proto-feminist revolution aimed to “destroy the old man's domestic tyranny” in order to “subvert the traditional hierarchies of the household” (Faulkner, 2017: 47–53). Although fascinating, this modern interpretation is prevented by the text itself. As Sofronia, having carried out the beffa, explicitly says to Nicomaco, her ultimate goal is not to reform the household, but that she wishes that everything might go back as it once was: If you make a clean start [ritornare al segno] and go back to being the Nicomaco you once were a year ago, we shall all go back too, and nobody will know a thing (Machiavelli, 2007: 387 [V.3]).
47
Although she could have eventually exploited the beffa to gain a position of power within the household, that is not Sofronia's aim. Instead, she looks forward to reestablishing the previous existing order, where Nicomaco is the paterfamilias and she, as his wife, keeps being the designated supervisor of the household. 48 Thus, even though Sofronia is surely “the most Machiavellian character of the play” (Faulkner, 2017: 46), her goal is not to reduce the importance of Nicomaco's role and become the household leader. 49 In other words, she does not aim, nor does she become, as Boggione claims, the new leader of the household (2016: 161). 50 Instead, she reveals her Machiavellian virtù by planning a beffa that allows her to preserve the family and restore the Albertian hierarchical division of labor, as outlined in his On Family.
Therefore, the play's greatness does not lie in the groundbreaking depiction of a female character who establishes her power over a male-dominated society. As Clarke has shown, that would be alien to the ideology of an author like Machiavelli who, as his numerous works well testify, “is not a feminist writer” (Clarke, 2005: 254). Sofronia temporarily employs Machiavellian methodologies not to advance her social status, but to remind her husband of his duties, namely, to run the house in accordance with Alberti's formulations—which include increasing the family patrimony and forging new alliances through Clizia's wedding. Once again, Alberti's work lends itself as a crucial hermeneutical tool for a critical reading of Clizia: My dear wife, if you ever see any fault in me, I shall be very grateful to you for letting me know. In that way, I shall know that our honor, our welfare, and the good of our children are dear to your heart. … Where I am lacking, you shall make it good (Alberti, 1969a: 211 [III]).
51
Giannozzo's quoted words should be taken as the theoretical backdrop upon which Machiavelli's play is constructed. Sofronia's actions are not in contrast to the “Renaissance patriarchal standard,” as instead claimed by Yael (2011: 55.). On the contrary, she had to undertake such actions because it was her duty to save the household. Both the parenting of Clizia and the internal management of the family unit are, as Alberti's work prescribes, among her tasks. However, and in this resides Machiavelli's genius, Sofronia does not act following the dominant moral standards, but instead behaves according to the radical Machiavellian political teachings. To preserve the Albertian family model, she becomes a Machiavellian wife. What characterizes Clizia as one of the greatest Renaissance theatrical work is therefore a complex stratification of different layers where Machiavelli's radical notion of virtù and Alberti's theorizations on family are constantly and closely interwoven together.
Conclusions
Cleandro, rejected by Sofronia as a potential candidate for Clizia's husband, finds nothing better than, once again, complaining about his “evil fortune,” right when he thought he had finally reached his goal (Machiavelli, 2007: 391 [V.5]). 52 However, quite unexpectedly, the play ends with the sudden appearance of Clizia's father, Ramondo, “a Neapolitan gentlemen … very rich,” who agrees to a marriage between his daughter and Cleandro (Machiavelli, 2007: 393 [V.5]). 53 From a literary point of view, it is hard to dispute the claim that the ending of Clizia is not as powerful as that of The Mandrake Root. 54 However, even though badly structured, the last scenes of the play further prove what has been argued thus far in this article.
As soon as Sofronia understands that Ramondo is a wealthy nobleman, she quickly agrees with what she had opposed throughout the play, that is, a marriage between her son and Clizia. Once again, Sofronia does not behave in accordance with moral standards, but acts by considering utilitarianism. In her view, Ramondo's unexpected arrival radically changes the previous scenario, and once proven that Clizia belongs to a noble and wealthy family, Sofronia is happy to celebrate that same union that she had hitherto opposed strongly. By challenging Nicomaco's corrupted scheme, she is ultimately able to keep the family from falling apart, and also preserve and take full advantage of the economic value represented by Clizia.
Clizia is thus a composite literary architecture. The play is neither a mere translation of Plautus’ Casina nor a flat theatrical adaptation of the ideal Albertian family. On the one hand, Machiavelli employs Plautus’ play as “a Trojan horse” to disguise his radical ideas under the surface of a well-renowned classic and convey them to a broader audience (Faulkner, 2017: 39). Nevertheless, the ultimate complexity of the play lies in the fact that Machiavelli saw in Plautus’ comedy the perfect model for combining his political formulations and Alberti's key notions elaborated in On Family. Since Clizia, inspired by Plautus’ play, revolved around a family drama, Machiavelli understood that, for a Renaissance audience, Alberti's treatise would provide the theoretical and ideological background against which all characters should move.
In this sense, Clizia presents itself as a Machiavellian reading of Alberti's On Family. Machiavelli formulates and fully develops the hypothesis of the character of a wife—Sofronia—who, within the Albertian framework, acts by employing the “virtuous” methods prescribed by Machiavelli himself in his political writings. Machiavelli might even have adopted the idea of testing the fragile Albertian domestic equilibrium of power by developing a conjecture posed first by the same Alberti. In the opening pages of the Prologue of his treatise, the latter wonders: I have always thought the question worth asking whether Fortune really has such power over human affairs. Is the supreme license hers in fact, by her inconstancy and instability, to plunge the greatest and most admirable families into ruin? (Alberti, 1969a: 25 [Prologue]).
55
Machiavelli rephrased this hypothesis by pragmatically showing that the household would have succumbed to Fortune's attacks if it were not for the character of Sofronia, who, adapting to the extraordinary events, becomes a Machiavellian wife to preserve the Albertian family model. Through Sofronia, Machiavelli proves that Machiavellianism belongs even in the Albertian household. Due to her amoral tactics, Sofronia saves the household from ruin, restores the hierarchical internal division of roles, and even forges a new alliance for the family.
Lastly, although it is true that the play ends with the “reestablishment of the old order,” it would be wrong to interpret Clizia as being merely aimed at a traditionalist restoration (Di Maria, 2013: 59). In reality, to an attentive audience, Machiavelli made clear that such an accomplishment was possible only by resorting to his radical political teachings. Additionally, by engaging with Alberti's treatise and applying Machiavellianism to a play that revolves around a family, Machiavelli blurs the line that traditionally separated domestic and public spheres. Through his last play, Machiavelli proves that his theories apply effectively both on a public scale as well as a private scale. However, at a closer look Machiavelli turns out to be an attentive reader of Alberti even in this regard. In his The Art of Building in Ten Books, written between 1443 and 1552 but published posthumously in 1485, Alberti already implied this connection between the domestic and public spheres. Notably, in Book 1 of his architectural treatise, he wondered: If (as the philosophers maintain) the city is like a large house, and the house is in turn like a small city, cannot the various parts of the house … be considered miniature buildings? (Alberti, 1988: 23 [I.9.14]).
56
Blurring any line of demarcation, Alberti establishes an explicit correlation between the public sphere of the city and the private sphere of the households (see Pearson, 2011: 87–90). The same idea is restated later in Book 5, where Alberti claims briefly but emblematically that “the house is a miniature city” (Alberti, 1988: 140 [V.14.83v]). 57
Far from being a minor work composed in a hurry for a mundane occasion, Clizia is thus the result of Machiavelli's engagement in a literary conversation with one of the greatest thinkers of the earlier generation, Leon Battista Alberti. In his last play, Machiavelli expands on Alberti's highly influential treatises On Family and On the Art of Building. As an attentive reader of Alberti, Machiavelli understood that since the household is like a small city, Machiavellianism can be effectively applied to every sphere of human society, from the public sphere to the preservation and fulfillment of the household. In Clizia, the Quattrocento Florentine Humanism of Alberti is seen and interpreted through the lens of contemporary Machiavellianism. Reassessing the play’s value is therefore crucial beyond Machiavelli's studies, as it would allow for a more comprehensive understanding of Renaissance comedy and the evolution of Humanism.
