Outline Dec 30

0 Overture is accompanied by visuals which emphasize the warlike and chaotic atmosphere which has engulfed Italy. Perhaps some references to astrology. Perhaps an appearance by Fortuna.

1 Strappado -M is lead before a tribunal, hands tied behind is back. The lead interrogator tells us that M's name has been found on a list of conspirators, elaborates the charges and presses M for information. After M tells all he knows, he is lifted into the air and tortured by a technique called Strappado (to tear). After each drop, he is pressed for more information. He enters into an altered state.

Our Strappado need not be historically accurate. But whether it be an intricate baroque machine or a projection, it does need to convey a sense of terror. Music will support the action.

2 Prison - Feb 23. Daybreak.
Mach, in his cell, hears boots in the hallway, a cell door opened and a prisoner led out. The prisoner is Agostino Capponi and as he is led away, we hear the Black Brothers singing psalms for the condemned. An ax falls. More boots. Another prisoner, Pietropaolo Boscoli is led out, accompanied by the Black Brothers, another ax falls. (Historically, a little less dramatic, read Ross King pg 135). Some time passes, no more boots in the hall. He then writes a poem and dedicates it to Giuliano de' Medici:

I have, Giuliano, a pair of shackles on my legs
with six hoists of the rope on my shoulders:
my other miseries I do not want to talk about,
as this is the way poets are to be treated!

These walls exude lice,
sick with the heaves no less, that are as big as butterflies
nor was there ever such a stench in the massacre of Roncesvalles.

or among those groves in Sardinia,
as there is in my dainty inn;
with a noise that sounds just as if all the earth
Jove was striking lightning , and all Mount Etna too.

One man is being chained and the other shackled
with a clatter of keyholes, keys, and latches;
another shouts that he is pulled too high off the ground!

What disturbed me most
was that close to dawn while sleeping
I heard chanting: "Per voi s'ora"

Now they can go their own way;
if only your mercy may turn towards me,
good father, and these criminal bonds be untied

Fortuna appears. Sings seductively.
Takes a fresh fig, cuts it in half and enticingly shows M, snatching it away as he reaches for it.
He is mesmerized. She laughs, smacks him really hard on the face, then disappears.

Machiavelli sings the second of the Prison Sonnets

In this night, begging the Muses
that with their sweet zither and sweet poems
they, to console me , should visit
Your Magnificence, and make my excuses,
one appeared who upset me,
saying: "Who dares to call me?"

I told her my name, and she to torment me
hit me in the face and shut my mouth for me,
saying: "You are not Niccolo ...
because you have your legs and heels bound together
and stay there chained up like a lunatic."

I wanted to give her my reasons:
and she responded and said: "Go to the devil
with this shirtsleeve comedy of yours."

Bear her witness,
Magnificent Giuliano, for high God,
that ... I am I.

Darkness. He falls asleep, chained to the wall. Snow blows in the open window. A long time passes. The singing of the black brothers haunts his dreams. We hear boots once again in the hall. This time his cell is opened. Gradually we hear the sound of celebration and fireworks. A Giovanni de' Medici has become Pope Leo X. M is being released as part of a general amnesty. He crosses over the Ponte Vecchi to his farmhouse, amid wild cacophony. (He was released March 11, 1513)

3 Communing with the Ancients
Machiavelli in his study, December 10, 1513
I am living on my farm, and since my latest disasters, I have not spent a total of twenty days in Florence. Until now, I have been catching thrushes with my own hands. I would get up before daybreak, prepare the birdlime, and go out with such a bundle of birdcages on my back that I looked like Geta when he came back from the harbor with Amphitryon's books. I would catch at least two, at most six thrushes. And thus I passed the entire month of November. Eventually this diversion, contemptible and foreign to me, petered out - to my regret.

I shall tell you about my life. I get up in the morning with the sun and go into one of my woods that I am having cut down; there I spend a couple of hours inspecting the work of the previous day and kill some time with the woodsmen who always have some dispute on their hands either among themselves or with their neighbors. I could tell you a thousand good stories about these woods and my experiences with them, and about Frosino da Panzano and other men who wanted this firewood. In particular, Frosino sent for some loads of wood without saying a word to me; when it came time to settle, he wanted to withold ten lire that he said he had won off me four years ago when he had beaten me at cricca at Antonio Guicciardini's house. I started to raise hell; I was going to call the wagoner who had come for the wood a thief, but Giovanni Machiavelli eventually stepped in and got us to agree. Once the north wind started blowing, Battista Guicciardini, filippo Ginoro, Tommaso del Bene, and some other citizens all ordered a load from me. I promised some to each one; I sent Tommaso a load which turned into half a load in Florence because he, his wife, his children, and the servants were all there to stack it - they looked like Gaburra on Thursdays when he and his crew flay an ox. Consequently once I realized who was profitting, I told the others that I had no more wood; all of them were angry about it, especially Battista, who includes this among the other calamities of Prato.

Upon leaving the woods, I go to the spring; from there, to one of the places where I hang my birdnets. I have a book under my arm: Dante, Petrarch, or one of the minor poets like Tibullus, Ovid, or some such. I read about their amorous passions and their loves, remember my own, and these reflections make me happy for a while. Then I make my way along the road toward the inn. I chat with passerby, I ask news of their regions, I learn about various matters, I observe mankind: the varieties of its tastes, the diversity of its fancies.

By then it is time to eat; with my household I eat what food this poor farm and my miniscule patrimony yield. When I have finished eating, I return to the inn, where there is usually are the innkeeper, a butcher, a miller, and a couple of kilnworkers. I slum around with them for the rest of the day playing cricca and backgammon: these games lead to thousands of squabbles and endless abuses and vituperations. More often then not we are wrangling over a penny; be that as it may, people can hear us yelling even in San Casciano. Thus, having been cooped up among the these lice, I get the mold out of my brain and let out the malice of my fate, content to be ridden over roughshod in this fashion if only to discover whether or not my fate is ashamed at treating me so.

When evening comes, I return home and enter my study; on the threshold I take off my workaday clothes, covered with mud and dirt, and put on the garments of court and palace. Fitted out appropriately, I step inside the venerable courts of the ancients, where solicitously received by them, I nourish myself on that food that alone is mine and for which I was born; where I am unashamed to converse with then and to question them about the motives for their actions, and they, out of their human kindness, answer me. And for four hours at a time I feel no boredom, I forget all my troubles, I do not dread poverty, and I am not terrified by Death. I absorb myself into them completely. And because Dante says that no one understands anything unless he retains what he has understood, I have jotted down what I have profited from in conversation and composed a short study De Principatibus ...

Communing with the Ancients, who come alive.
THIS WOULD BE AN INTERESTING PLACE TO PUT "32 SHORT FILMS" idea
Numa learns Roman religion with the goddess Eregia. (D I - 11)
Cesare Borgia arrives. The corpse of Lorqua.
How Duke Valentino killed the generals who conspired against him.
Castruccio Castracani.
Eventually he loses control of the idea and the idea takes over.
The Future comes in. Rousseau. We see Napoleon's hat. Mussolini argues with Gramsci.
Lady Fortuna enters and blows on some dice.
Machiavelli writes it all down like the scribe that he is.

4. Serious doesn't Work
M is sitting down reading a letter sent to him from his friend at the papal court Vettori. The letter speaks of how poorly The Prince was received by the Medici's.
Vettori sings.

Urged by his buddies, M improvises a story
"There was an old pedantic lawyer, a real doctoro, married to the most beautiful woman in Florance. And this young hotshot has just arrived in town after ten years at the French Court...



Anybody who saw our letters, honored friend, and saw their diversity, would wonder greatly, because he would suppose now that we were grave men, wholly concerned with important matters, and that into our breast no thought could fall that did not have in itself honesty and greatness. But then, turning the page, he would judge that we, the very same persons, were lighthearted, inconstant, lascivious, concerned with empty things. And in this way of proceeding, if to some it may appear censurable, to me seems praiseworthy, because we are imitating Nature, who is variable, and he who imitates her cannot be blamed. (Letter to Vettori of January 31, 1515)

5 La Mandragola
Machiavelli on stage in front of an imaginary audience introducing his play:

... This play is called The Mandrake and I trust you shall see why as the plot unfolds. The playwright is not of any great renown, but he will stand you a glass of wine if he cannot make you laugh. He has gathered together a miserable lover, a lawyer of little sense, a friar with wicked ways and a sponger who is the darling of malice, for your entertainment today.

And if this material, slight as it is, does not prove worthy of a playwright who wishes to appear wise and grave, excuse him with this: that he is trying his utmost to lighten his misery, for he has nowhere else to turn, barred as he is from demonstrating his skills and abilities through worthier tasks, his labor no longer prized. The only prize he can expect is to be sneered at and maligned...

Callimaco has come out of his house along with Siro, his servant and will shed some light on matters. Watch carefully, for you will not get another explanation.

[A part of Mandragola, done Way bawdy]

6. he gets his own show

7. Revolution, Rome is sacked, the Medici's get toppled

8. Upon the ouster of the Medici's in Florence 1527, M anticipates working once again for the Florentine Republic. But the new regime is familiar with The Prince, and believing M to be evil, and refuses to hire him. The following quote from Strauss is perfect for this dialog

Machiavelli: Teacher of Evil

"Indeed what other description would fit a man who teaches lessons like these: princes ought to exterminate the families of rulers whose territory they wish to possess securely; princes ought to murder their opponents rather than confiscate their property since those who have been robbed, but not those who are dead, can think of revenge; men forget the murder of their fathers sooner than the loss of their patrimony; true liberality consists in being stingy with one's property and in being generous with what belongs to others; not virtue but the prudent use of virtue and vice leads to happiness; injuries ought all to be done together so that, being tasted less, they will hurt less, while benefits should be conferred little by little, so the will be felt more strongly; a victorious general who fears that his prince might not reward him properly, may punish him for his anticipated ingratitude by raising the flag of rebellion; if one has to choose between inflicting severe injuries or light injuries, one ought to inflict severe injuries; one ought not to say to someone whom one wants to kill "Give me your gun, I want to kill you with it," but merely, "Give me your gun," for once you have the gun in your hand, you can satisfy your desire. If it is true that only an evil man will stoop to teach maxims of public and private gangsterism, we are forced to say that Machiavelli was an evil man.

9. He dies and opts for the smoking section (aka Hell)
beheld in his sleep a crowd of famished and miserable people. On asking who they were he was told: the blessed souls in paradise. Hardly had they vanished from his view than he saw instead a throng of grave-visaged men discussing political matters, and distinguished among them many illustrious philosophers of Greece and Rome. These were the souls condemned to eternal punishment. Being asked in which company he preferred to remain he instantly replied: I would rather be in Hell and converse with great minds upon State questions, than live in Paradise with the rabble I saw just now ... For in the latter he would meet no one but wretched monks and apostles, whereas in Hell he would be in the company of cardinals, popes, princes and kings.
(Strathern pg 409-410; Villari, Machiavelli vol 2 535-537)