The essential writings of Machiavelli (48 page)

B
ELFAGOR

Machiavelli’s contemporaries prized him for his stories, but “Belfagor” is the only one that has come down to us. It is uncertain when it was written, but it is believed to have been composed between 1518 and 1520, after Machiavelli had completed
The Prince
and
The Discourses.
The theme of “Belfagor” existed in medieval literature
.

—

One can read in the ancient chronicles of Florence and also hear tales told of a most saintly man whose life was extolled by all who lived in his times. Transported in prayer, he saw descend to Hell infinite souls of wretched mortals who had died in the displeasure of God, all these souls, or most of them, protesting that it was only because they had taken wives that they had been brought to such grief. Minos, Radamanthus, and the other judges of Hell were perplexed, unable to believe the accusations leveled at the fair sex, but the allegations grew with every passing day, until they saw themselves compelled to inform Pluto.

Pluto called together a council of infernal princes to examine and debate the matter so that pertinent action could be taken to reveal the falseness or truth of these claims, and stepping before the council he proclaimed: “Beloved friends! By celestial decree and the irrevocable course of destiny I am the ruler of this kingdom and thus cannot be bound by any judgment, earthly or celestial. Nevertheless, the wisest rulers are those who, though they have the greatest power, are keenest to submit themselves to the laws and are most inclined to respect the judgment of others. Therefore I have concluded that I would do well to be counseled by you on a matter that could bring shame to our reign. When all the souls of men who enter our kingdom proclaim that they have been driven here by their wives—a thing that seems impossible to me—I fear that if I should pass a judgment that is too severe, I might be accused of being too cruel, and if I should pass a judgment that is not severe enough, I might be accused of being too lenient, and not a lover of justice. The first sin is that of a frivolous ruler, the second of a ruler who is unjust. As I wish to avoid either charge but cannot find the means of doing so, I have called you together so that with your counsel you can offer assistance and be the reason that our kingdom will once again prevail without infamy!”

Each of the infernal princes saw that the case was very important and of the greatest consequence. They unanimously agreed that it was vital to discover the truth, but were divided on how this should be achieved. Some argued that one among their ranks ought to be sent up into the world, others that several should be sent, so that, adopting human form, they could discover the truth in person. Still others argued that this could be accomplished without so much inconvenience were they to compel various souls to reveal the truth through an array of torments. But as the greater part of the council advised that a single devil ought to be sent up into the world, this decision was finally adopted. None of the devils, however, was prepared to take on this expedition voluntarily, and so it was decided that one would be chosen by lot—a lot that happened to fall on Belfagor, an archdevil who had been an archangel before he fell from Heaven. Belfagor took on the duty with extreme reluctance, but compelled by Pluto’s authority, declared himself willing to carry out the council’s decree, and committed himself to the conditions that had been solemnly decided upon. The conditions were that the devil who was entrusted with this task would be provided with a hundred thousand ducats, with which he was to go into the world. There, in the guise of a man, he was to take a wife with whom he was to live for ten years, after which, feigning death, he would return to the netherworld, where he would report to his superiors concerning the burdens and afflictions of marriage. The council also declared that during his period in the world he would be subjected to every hardship and strife that beset mankind—poverty prison, illness, and every other misfortune that men incur—unless he could free himself from these by means of deceit or trickery.

Belfagor entered the world with money and a human form. Provided by the tribe of devils with horses and attendants, he arrived in Florence with much pomp, having chosen that city above all others, as it struck him as the ideal place for a man wishing to employ his money in the arts of usury. He adopted the name Roderigo di Castiglia and took a house in the Borgo Ognissanti.
¹
So that no one would discover his origins, he let it be known that he had left Spain for Syria as a boy and had made his fortune in Aleppo: He had now come to Italy with the intention of marrying and settling down, as Italy, being more humane and civilized, was more to his taste. Roderigo was quite a handsome man and looked to be about thirty years old, and having within a few days made a show of his great wealth and proven himself kind and generous, he was approached by many noble citizens who had an abundance of daughters but a scarcity of funds. Roderigo’s choice fell upon a beautiful maiden by the name of Onesta, the daughter of Amerigo Donati, who had three other daughters who were almost of a marriageable age, and three grown sons. Amerigo Donati was of a noble family and was very highly regarded in Florence, but he was extremely poor in relation to his large brood of children and social position.

Roderigo had a magnificent wedding, not omitting any splendor that might be desired. The infernal council had decreed that he was now to be subjected to every human passion, and so he began taking delight in the honors and pomp of the world, and to value society’s approbation. This cost him a significant amount of money. He had not lived long with Madonna Onesta before he fell in love with her beyond measure, and could not bear her being sad or displeased in any way. Along with her nobility and beauty, Madonna Onesta had brought into Roderigo’s house a pride that outshone that of Lucifer. And Roderigo, who had had ample experienced of both, had to admit that his wife’s pride was far superior. But Madonna Onesta’s pride grew by great bounds the instant she perceived the love her husband bore her. She now felt that she could rule him in every way and began ordering him about without mercy or restraint, nor did she delay hurling harsh and hurtful words at him if he hesitated in fulfilling her every fancy. This caused Roderigo great distress. Nevertheless, his father-in-law, her brothers, her family, and the bonds of matrimony, and, above all, his great love for her, made him bear his plight with patience.

I shall pass over the vast expenditure he made in his attempts to appease her by dressing her in the latest fashions and styles that our city knows to vary with infinite resourcefulness. I will also pass over how Roderigo, in his quest for domestic peace, assisted his father-in-law in marrying off his other daughters, here too spending great amounts of money. To appease Madonna Onesta he was forced to send one of her brothers eastward with linen, another westward with silks, and set up her third brother as a gold beater in Florence, enterprises that depleted the greater part of his fortune. Then came the Carnival of San Giovanni, when by ancient custom the whole city revels and celebrates, and all the noblest and richest citizens make a great show with splendid banquets. Here Madonna Onesta would not be eclipsed by any other Florentine lady, and insisted that Roderigo’s feasts outshine those of all the others.

Roderigo bore these trials for the reasons I have mentioned, and no expenditure, however vast, would have seemed excessive had it brought a measure of harmony to his house, giving him some peace of mind as he awaited his approaching ruin. But the opposite was the case, because the outlandish expenses and Madonna Onesta’s insolent nature caused him infinite distress. No servant in the house could bear her ways for more than a few days. As a result Roderigo’s dealings suffered, as he could not keep a single loyal servant who could see to his affairs. Even the devils he had brought with him as manservants preferred to return to Hell and roast in fire than live in the world under that woman’s rule.

Roderigo, his life increasingly tumultuous and troubled, had soon consumed all his resources through immoderate spending, and now began to live in the hope that financial returns might be forthcoming from East and West. Roderigo still had good credit, and drew upon it so that he would not lose his standing in Florence. Soon there were so many of his promissory notes in circulation that the local creditors took note. His position was already precarious in the extreme when dire news arrived from East and West: One of Madonna Onesta’s brothers had gambled away all of Roderigo’s investment, while the other, sailing back to Florence entirely uninsured on a ship loaded with Roderigo’s merchandise, had gone down with the ship and everything in it. No sooner did this become known than Roderigo’s creditors met to confer. They were aware that he was ruined, but could not proceed against him as the time for repayment had not yet come. The creditors therefore concluded that they would watch him closely so that he would not attempt to escape behind their backs.

Roderigo could not see a way out of his predicament, and aware of the limits the infernal council had set upon him, was resolved to escape by fair means or foul. One morning he mounted a horse, and as he lived near the Porta al Prato, he rode out of Florence through it. No sooner did his departure become known, than a hue and cry arose among his creditors. They turned to the magistrates and set out after him with officers of the law and a crowd of townsmen. Roderigo was not more than a mile out of Florence when he heard the hubbub behind him. Realizing that the odds were against him, he decided that he would do better to leave the road and try his luck by escaping over the fields. He was, however, impeded from riding across the open country by many ditches, and so decided to continue his escape on foot. He left his mount by the roadside and made his way over fields covered in vines and cane brakes until he reached Peretola and the hut of Gianmatteo del Brica.

Gianmatteo was one of Giovanni del Bene’s tenants, and Roderigo came upon him as he returned home to feed his cattle. He begged Gianmatteo to help him, promising great riches if he saved him from his enemies who were out to lock him up in a dungeon till the day he died. He would furnish him proof of the wealth that would be his, and should this not convince him, he could hand him over to his enemies. Gianmatteo, though a peasant, was a spirited man and quickly saw that he had nothing to lose by saving Roderigo. He pushed him into a pile of manure that lay in front of his hut, covering him with straw and chaff that he had raked together to burn. Roderigo had barely managed to hide when his pursuers arrived, and despite their threats they could not force Gianmatteo to admit that he had seen Roderigo. So they went on their way looking for him in vain that day and the next, until they returned exhausted to Florence.

When all was quiet, Gianmatteo pulled Roderigo out from the manure heap and asked him to fulfill his promise.

“My brother,” Roderigo said, “I am under great obligation to you and will in every way keep my pledge to you. And so that you will realize how capable I am of keeping my pledge, I shall tell you who I am.” And Roderigo told him who he was, the conditions put upon him when he left Hell, and of the wife he had taken. He also told Gianmatteo how he intended to make him rich. News would come that a woman was possessed by a demon, and Gianmatteo should know that it was Roderigo who was possessing her, and that he would not leave her body until Gianmatteo came to perform an exorcism. He could then ask whatever sum he wished from her relatives.

Gianmatteo agreed, and Roderigo disappeared.

Only a few days later, word spread throughout Florence that the daughter of Messer Ambruogio Amidei who had married Bonaiuto Tebalducci was possessed by a demon. Her family was doing everything one did in such cases, placing the skull of Saint Zanobi on her head and covering her with the mantle of Saint Giovanni Gualberto, at all of which Roderigo thumbed his nose. To make it plain that the girl was possessed by a demon and not simply in the grip of some girlish fancy, he had her speak in Latin and debate on philosophical matters, and had her reveal the sins of many people, including a monk who for more than four years had kept a woman in his cell dressed as a novice. Everyone in Florence marveled at this. But her father, Messer Ambruogio, was not at all pleased. He had tried every remedy and had lost all hope of a cure when Gianmatteo stepped before him and promised that he would restore his daughter for a sum of five hundred florins, with which he intended to purchase a farm in Peretola. Messer Ambruogio agreed. Gianmatteo first had Masses sung and then went through some rituals to add color to the proceedings, after which he leaned down to the young woman’s ear and said: “Roderigo, I have come so that you can keep your promise to me.” To which Roderigo replied: “This has worked out well. But it will not be enough to make you rich. So I shall leave this young woman and enter the daughter of King Carlo of Naples. I will refuse to leave her until you are summoned. King Carlo will reward you well, and you and I will be done.” Having spoken these words, he left the young woman’s body, to the delight and admiration of all Florence.

Soon word of the misfortune that had struck King Carlo’s daughter spread throughout Italy. The king could find no cure, and, hearing of Gianmatteo, sent to Florence for him. Gianmatteo arrived in Naples and after a sham ceremony cured the princess. But Roderigo, before leaving, said: “As you see, Gianmatteo, I have kept my promise to make you rich. Now that I have fulfilled my obligation, I am no longer in your debt. You must never call upon me again, because if until now I have benefited you, in future I shall I will bring you harm.”

Gianmatteo returned to Florence a wealthy man. The king had given him more than fifty thousand ducats, and he intended to enjoy his riches in peace, as he did not think that Roderigo would have cause to do him harm. But this thought was quickly dashed when news came that the daughter of Louis VII of France was possessed. Gianmatteo was distressed when he thought of the king’s power on the one hand, and Roderigo’s on the other. The king found no cure for his daughter, and having heard of Gianmatteo’s skill, sent a messenger to find him. Gianmatteo resisted, alleging various difficulties, and the king turned to the Signoria of Florence,
²
which forced Gianmatteo to obey.