“Go Like a Fool with That Comedy of Yours in Rags”

Machiavelli is a notoriously difficult writer. Uncertainty about his political allegiances combines with his praise of dissimulation to trouble even his admirers. We have his famous confession and boast: “For a long time I have not said what I believed, nor do I ever believe what I say, and if indeed sometimes I do happen to tell the truth, I hide it among so many lies that it is hard to find out.” This confession, found in a letter to Guicciardini, is gleeful and occurs in the context of an anecdote about the friars of Corli, who are Machiavelli's hosts at the time. These friars, to Machiavelli's delight, stand “with open mouths and with their caps in their hands” as their guest receives Guicciardini's apparently weighty political correspondence and dashes off a reply. Machiavelli, of course, does not waste this opportunity to astonish his hosts by painting these affairs of state in worldhistorical hues. In his reply, he begs Guicciardini to write him every day so that he may continue to enjoy his little charade. The letter reveals an important aspect of Machiavelli's sense of humor—his interest in fooling and being fooled and his taste for the theatrical. Indeed, Machiavelli is theater folk. Involved in the production of his own plays, he knows his way around a stage and also how to stage. Like the Junius Brutus of his Discourses, Machiavelli too can play a part (CW, 973).

To understand Machiavelli, one must learn how to laugh with him, and when. Machiavelli wrote serious political works and comedies. As Nietzsche suggests, however, learning how to laugh with Machiavelli is more than a matter of genre.2 Machiavelli's tempo defies genre. The quality of Machiavelli's humor—and the source of Nietzsche's admiration—rests upon his daring. Brutus “play[ed] crazy” for the highest stakes, the sovereignty of Rome. To play the fool, one must implicate oneself. There are risks involved. Machiavelli's laughter often accompanies the most serious business (D, III.3.1).