(Page 26 of 26) - Sex as a Weapon: The Politics of Desire in Machiavelli’s "La Mandragola" authored by Connors, Catherine.

manipulation of desire in Mandragola suggests there may be something of a (revised)

femininity implicated in the virtù-ous exercise of one’s foxy nature – then it seems that
modern manly virtue is not so straightforward as the manly virtue of the ancients (and

particularly from the ancient Romans, from whom Machiavelli borrows the framework
for his virtù); that such virtue is, perhaps, somewhat more hermaphroditic. The

implications of this for virtù as it inheres in the character of a Prince are certainly
interesting to consider, but it is, I think, even more interesting to consider the

implications for men (and perhaps women) of virtù who do not desire to be Princes
themselves. What of the unarmed prophet?

The advisor? The teacher? If such a figure –

who himself has little or no effectual recourse to the leonine side of his nature – is to be
Machiavellian (and, indeed, if Machiavelli himself is any of these), it may be that his

virtù must tend more to the feminine virtù exemplified by Lucrezia than to the masculine
virtù of an Agathocles or a Cesare Borgia.

In her demonstration of virtù this ‘Machiavellian’ woman is, arguably, exceeded only by religious men,

founders and prophets. Indeed, it might be argued that she very nearly resembles the Machiavellian
founder-prophet, who also benefits from the guise of virtue in undertaking to move people. Such an
individual also relies upon an ability to manipulate the passions and exercises such manipulation by
fulfilling or promising fulfilment of those passions (or in the case of the passion of fear, promising relief
from that passion). The prophet is most effectively armed with the tools of manipulation and deception,
rather than with tools of blunt force. The prophet, in other words, is, like woman, a greater emulator of the
fox than of the lion.

Still, Machiavelli’s preferred prophets – the armed prophets – do have recourse to arms beyond

fraud and manipulation: such prophets do emulate the lion to some extent, if only in their direct exercise of
fear over those who they seek to move. But what of certain variations of supposedly unarmed prophets,
such the founders and caretakers of the Christian church (those coming, of course, after

Jesus)? These

‘prophets’ – if we can call them that and remain true to Machiavelli’s use of the term – can be understood
(in Machiavellian terms) to have tended more to deception and manipulation than to direct force (Crusades
and Inquisitions notwithstanding). The Christian man of religion who pursues power for himself or for his
Church – or, perhaps, if we are to be fully Machiavellian, the Church itself in its pursuit of power –
exercises force through deception and manipulation, much like the Machiavellian woman: he/it relies upon
the guise of his/its virtue and piety to seduce and manipulate. He/it is constrained by the very character that
is the force of his/its religion – its ‘goodness’ – and so, like woman, must be cunning, and entirely self-
reliant, in the deployment of this force. Woman, then, might be understood to be the best
representative/symbol of this force – and perhaps of the Church more broadly – apparently, and perhaps
fundamentally, weak, but a keen and practised manipulator of weakness. (In this too she might be
understood to be the best representative of what seems to be a central problem posed by Christianity for
Machiavelli – the contradiction-in-terms that it seems to represent as an institution that demonstrates both
great weakness and great strength.)