Niccolo Machiavelli's infamous book The Prince is a staple of Western political thought. Its pragmatic descriptions of a suave and ruthless ruler maneuvering by whatever means he desires to achieve his ends has scandalized and intrigued readers since its composition in 1513. Yet, as history shows, Machiavelli the man was a far more complex (and ultimately endearing) figure than the popular conception of him as a corrupter of humanity.
The true Machiavelli that Michael Ennis brings alive in his historical novel The Malice of Fortune is a curious observer of human nature and a staunch supporter of republican government, continually looking back to the great men from classical history for guidance in how to interpret the actions of people in his time. As a lowly secretary in the government of the Republic of Florence, Machiavelli is sent on a mission in 1502 to represent Florence's interests with the powerful Borgia papal family, ruled by Pope Alexander VI and militarily led by his illegitimate son Cesare Borgia (known as Duke Valentino). While serving in this ambassadorial capacity, Machiavelli meets a mesmerizing courtesan, Damiata, who is seeking to solve the mystery of the murder of Pope Alexander's son Juan, committed some five years before’her young son being held hostage by the Holy Father until she finds out the truth. The two characters join forces with Valentino's chief military engineer, a man by the name of Leonardo da Vinci, and travel across Italy to find the murderer, who is committing a new series of grisly killings and leaving elaborate riddles behind to challenge his pursuers. The horrifying and revealing truth, when it is unmasked, eventually serves as the hidden background for Machiavelli's The Prince.
Does this sound fantastical? The amazing fact is that much of what happens in The Malice of Fortune is substantially true to history, the fictional elements entirely plausible. Ennis poured twelve years of research in the riches of Italian history, customs, and culture into writing this book. He diligently perused the works of Machiavelli and da Vinci, ensuring the characters were placed in the precise locations and time where history shows they were. The novel is written in a wonderfully poetic and pictorial prose style, vividly opening a door into the wonders (and horrors) of Renaissance Italy. Even the metaphors and allusions used, derived mostly from classical works, are proper to how the educated people of that time would have chosen to express themselves. In short, The Malice of Fortune is an exemplary work of historical fiction, crafted to make its world come brilliantly alive for us.
This novel also works well in providing a vibrant background to the conditions that precipitated the Protestant Reformation. The religious life of Italy was a sham; the pope himself and high-ranking church officials engaged in shameless debauchery, with plenty of courtesans available to provide the usual pleasures. At one point in the book, Machiavelli comments on the immunity of the priests under church canon law, which prevented them from being prosecuted for civil crimes and allowing them to commit reprehensible crimes as long as they didn't lapse into theological heresy. Damiata herself makes telling observations about the three main life choices available to women of her time: they could have an arranged marriage, they could become "married to Christ," or they could become prostitutes. The pure irony of the last option is that becoming a courtesan (like Damiata) was the only way for a woman to become learned and even own property of her own. Finally, under the rotting veneer of Christendom thrives a strong pagan undercurrent: the world of witchcraft, charms, and spells contributes a significant element to the events in The Malice of Fortune. It is no surprise, therefore, that Luther would be horrified when he visited Rome a mere eight years later in 1510: all Italy was in need of Reformation, both theologically and socially.
I first discovered Michael Ennis just over a year ago through his two earlier books Byzantium and Duchess of Milan. I was wondering where to read quality historical fiction that would bring me into the world of that time and allow me to relate closely with the characters, since themes of the human condition remain perpetual no matter how big the time or location differences are. Michael Ennis perfectly filled that need.
I must say that no other author has affected me as Ennis has in his historical realism, the poetic vividness and burning passion of his style, and the complete humanity of his characters (there's even a small drop of sympathy for the reprehensible Borgias in the end of The Malice of Fortune). This also means that I must recommend Ennis only for wise and mature audiences, for he often deals with intense but necessary themes. Yet those who make the journey into his novels will end up learning much about who they are as human beings, and see a small glimpse of one of sinful humanity's clearest truths: we all yearn passionately for eternity as we blindly grope toward it, performing both brilliant works and heinous crimes. As Christians, we can sympathize with this paradoxical condition, while at the same time rejoice that God is in the process of making all things new through Jesus Christ! It is thus with pleasure that I hold forth The Malice of Fortune to eager lovers of history and of humanity.
