Niccolò Machiavelli on the consolation of philosophy in times of crisis

Gracious reader,

This week, we’ll explore:

• Niccolò Machiavelli on how the The Great Conversation can console us in crisis: Insights from his famous letter to Vettori written 508 years ago today, on December 10, 1513

• Premiering NOW on YouTube: A walk in the footsteps of Machiavelli

• An invitation for today at 2pm ET: Is the Great Conversation for everyone?

• Recap and video from yesterday’s Wondrium LIVE convo on civility, civics, the classics, and lifelong learning

• CR subscriber-only invitation to a dialogue with Francis Fukuyama and the family of Alexis de Tocqueville

• December giveaway: A year of learning with Wondrium!

Niccolò Machiavelli on the consolation of philosophy in times of crisis

508 years ago today, on Dec 10, 1515, Niccolò Machiavelli, rather distressed, wrote a letter to a friend, Francesco Vettori.

In this now-famous letter, Machiavelli describes to his friend the banality of his life under house arrest—secluded at his villa in Tuscany, in political exile from his beloved Florence. During a time of political tumult in Florence, Machiavelli was accused of plotting against the Medici Family of Florence. Not only was he tortured, but he was also sentenced to political exile and house arrest. This was an all-time low in his life.

After serving as a diplomat and holding other high-ranking positions in Florence, he shares with Vettori that he is now confined to a life of simplicity, forced to toil by day in the fields and in his garden. He conveys his desperate desire to once again serve in public life.

Deprived of the opportunity to serve his city, it is instead at night that Machiavelli truly comes alive.

He describes to Vettori that after he brushes off the dirt from the day, he puts on elegant robes and enters into dialogue with with the great poets—such as Dante and Petrarch—authors, and philosophers of past eras.

In short, Machiavelli describes his turn to philosophy and The Great Conversation for consolation in this time of personal tumult and crisis.

Machiavelli writes,

On the coming of evening, I return to my house and enter my study; and at the door I take off the day's clothing, covered with mud and dust, and put on garments regal and courtly; and reclothed appropriately, I enter the ancient courts of ancient men, where, received by them with affection, I feed on that food which only is mine and which I was born for, where I am not ashamed to speak with them and to ask them the reason for their actions; and they in their kindness answer me; and for four hours of time I do not feel boredom, I forget every trouble, I do not dread poverty, I am not frightened by death; entirely I give myself over to them.

In this letter, Machiavelli shares that he has just finished a little book—dedicated to the Medici—that he hopes will be his ticket back into public life:

[I] have composed a little work On Principalities [The Prince], where I go as deeply as I can into considerations on this subject, debating what a princedom is, of what kinds they are, how they are gained, how they are kept, why they are lost.

Machiavelli’s book, in other words, is about how to gain and maintain political power, and Machiavelli intended it as something like a job application: He hoped it would show Giuliano Medici, the ruler of Florence, that he could add value as an advisor to him—and finally escape his mundane life in the country.

Alas, it was not to be.

The book was not published until five years after Machiavelli’s death, and was titled The Prince by the publishers. Because of it’s practical look at the dark arts of politics—and its suggestion that political leaders should focus on being effective instead of morally good—the book spent over two centuries on the Catholic Church’s Index of banned books. It also guaranteed that Machiavelli’s name would be forever equated with utilitarian, amoral, cunning opportunism.

Today, however, we are focusing on another important insight from Machiavelli’s life. He reminds us of the way that philosophy can be a profound comfort to us in times of personal crisis. Machiavelli is but one part of a long tradition of individuals who have turned to The Great Conversation in times of personal crisis—including when faced with torture, imprisonment, and even death.

Philosophy has always been seen as core to any education because philosophy is fundamentally concerned with how to live and die well.

There are this many examples from across history of people who have turned to philosophy for consolation:

• Socrates. Plato’s Phaedo tells us that as Socrates faces death by hemlock, Socrates proclaims that death is nothing to fear. He says that, for the philosopher, death is actually something to be rejoiced in—death separates the soul from the body, which allows the philosopher to more perfectly pursue beauty, goodness, and truth.

• The Apostle Paul. While imprisoned and under house arrest in Rome, Paul wrote his Letters to the Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon. Everything Paul wrote was infused with his deep reading of Greek philosophy and literature, as well a his passion for the Christian faith.

• Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius. The 6th century Roman politician commonly known as “Boethius” wrote his famous work, The Consolation of Philosophy, while he was imprisoned by a Barbarian ruler. In this work, Boethius dialogues with Lady Wisdom, or Philosophy Herself, and argues with her about foundational philosophical questions—such as why bad things happen to good people. He says that we must each cultivate an “inner citadel”—a disposition, strengthened by Lady Wisdom, that allows us to endure the vicissitudes of fate and fortune in life.

• Martin Luther King Jr. In his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail, Dr. King draws from the wellspring of The Great conversation to make his case for non-violent civil disobedience in the face of the ugly reality of racial segregation in America. King cites Socrates an early advocate of peaceful resistance against injustice no less than three times. He also quotes and draws from Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine, Martin Buber, and other thinkers who constitute The Great Conversation. King turned to these thinkers for comfort and inspiration while imprisoned—and used them and their ideas to help build his case for desegregation.

We can see that Machiavelli is merely one of many great thinkers in history who turned to philosophy for consolation in times of personal crisis. He—and others—remind us that The Great Conversation can be a buttress and comfort in our own challenging times, too.

I’m reminded of a wonderful line from the German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who wrote, “He who cannot draw on three thousand years is living from hand to mouth.”

Each of us stands to benefit from engaging with the wisdom of history, and from having a little bit more beauty, goodness and truth in our lives—which can nurture within us an equanimity and inner reserve to help us better endure times of crisis.

I encourage you to read Machiavelli’s full letter to Vettori for yourself here.

What do you think of the possibility of philosophy and The Great Conversation to console us in times of crisis?

Are there times in your life where you’ve found comfort in the the world of ideas, and turned to The Great Conversation to get you through a trying time?

I’d love to hear from you.

Please write to me at ah@alexandraohudson.com

An invitation for today at 2pm ET: Is the Great Conversation for everyone?

Join us for this exciting dialogue about how and why we must take the CLASS out of classics and The Great Conversation!

Across history, The Great Conversation—and an education generally—has usually been available only to a society’s social and economic elite. But it doesn’t have to be this way—and indeed, it should not be this way. Join our dialogue to discuss why The Great Conversation has the power and promise to enhance the lives of anyone who takes the time to engage with it!

The conversation is today at 2pm ET.

Recap and video from yesterday’s Wondrium LIVE convo on civility, civics, the classics, and lifelong learning

I was thrilled to be invited to join Wondrium on a Live chat yesterday about the project of Civic Renaissance, my forthcoming book on civility, and my course forthcoming with Wondrium and The Teaching Company.

Thanks to those of you who joined—and to those of you who missed it, you can find the whole recording below!

CR subscriber-only invitation to a dialogue with Francis Fukuyama and the family of Alexis de Tocqueville

As a special Christmas event, exclusively for paid subscribers to Civic Renaissance, I’ll be facilitating a private conversation with Francis Fukuyama and and the Tocqueville family at 11:30am EST on Tuesday, Dec 14th.

To join this event—and to be the first to receive similar CR subscriber-exclusive invitations in the future—consider becoming an annual subscriber today!

December giveaway: A year of learning with Wondrium!

To thank you for being part of this community, and to help you nurture your curiosity and life of the mind, I’m giving away a ONE YEAR subscription to Wondrium, the world’s best resource for the insatiably curious!

Write to me direly at ah@alexandraohudson.com.

I am grateful that you are here and part of this movement dedicated to moral, intellectual, and cultural renewal.

Thank you for being part of the Civic Renaissance community!

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a blessed Advent Season with your family.

Warmly,

Lexi (and the Hudsons)