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PARTISAN REVIEW
of farce; and if the farce turned out to be bitter and painful, this
happened against his will, and up to a certain point without his
knowledge.
The proof lies
in
the almost complete lack of irony and detach–
ment, which in a work like this should establish a difference and a
distance between the author and his characters, and testify to a moral
torment that knows how to control and balance itself, in order better
to achieve the effects it intended. In the
M andragola
there isn't any
irony or sarcasm, but only a kind of dark delight, a dry satisfaction,
a weary sincerity on the part of one who did not wish, nor would
have been able had he so wished, to see very much beyond the
naivete of Lucretia, the foolishness of Nicia, the corruption of Timo–
teo.
If
Fra Timoteo in his smallness and abjection had stood out
against the background of some large reality that touched Machiavel–
li's heart, his predicament could have been satirical or indeed up–
setting. But not having any relationship with the personage of
Timoteo, Machiavelli does no more than copy him from life, putting
him together out of the naked elements of reality. And things go no
better with the other personages.
As
a contrast to Timoteo's religion,
there should have been the innocence of Lucretia. The women of
Boccaccio are also often presented as "completely honorable," and
then reveal themselves to be stupid, if not worse. But note how this
stupidity changes into corruption, and is described shrewdly: with
what delight, what liveliness, what detachment, what good taste.
Boccaccio, apart from being a greater artist, has a fresher and more
intact moral sensibility. Lucretia on the other hand is stupid because
Machiavelli wanted to make her virtuous. She has neither a con–
science nor a moral sense, and once in bed with Callimacus she loses
all at once her famous honor and turns out to be no less insensitive
than her lover and all the other characters. In all probability Machi–
avelli really believed that he had represented the world as it is, not
"as it ought to be"; that he had portrayed innocence in Lucretia,
love in Callimacus, religion in Timoteo. But actually he had given
us a physiological innocence composed of passivity and ignorance, a
lecherous love that expresses itself in physical aches and distress, a
religion that is practical and mechanical, limited to conventional
devotions. About innocence, love and religion, the learned, so in–
telligent Machiavelli had ideas no different from those of the com–
mon folk of
his
century and alas, also of ours.
