Bianca's new policy.—New phase of the battle between the Woman and the Priest.—Serene, or, not serene! that is the question.—Bianca protests against sisters.—Death of the child Filippo.—Bianca's troubles and struggles.—The villa of Pratolino.—Francesco's extraordinary mode of life there.
The ninety embassy–followers, and the eighty kinsmen, were kind enough to give Francesco the pleasure of their company for some time after the marriage; but towards the end of October they returned to Venice, carrying with them presents of collars of gold and jewels. The Patriarch had his full share of gifts,[197] and all the swarm of the relatives "proportionably." But father–in–law Bartolommeo carried off not only very large sums of money, but a good pension for life. Brother–in–law Vittorio declined to return to Venice any more at all, purposing to devote himself wholly to the service of his august kinsman. A large pension, not for life, but to him and his heirs for ever (!), and a dower for his daughter, was the least that could reward such zeal. Bianca's pin–money was fixed at an hundred thousand ducats, to be invested in the mint of Venice.
What were the feelings being stored up the while in the breasts of the Florentines in their dearth and famine time towards Bianca, may be imagined. And when it is remembered, that one of Francesco's strongest passions was avarice, the excess of all this munificence towards Bianca, and her belongings, may help to give us the measure of the influence that she had acquired over him. Yes! it must be admitted that Bianca had decidedly succeeded!
Hitherto we have seen the Cardinal Ferdinando and his new sister–in–law open and inveterate enemies; and the former at each critical point of the war between them has been beaten. During the period of her struggle to win her footing in the family, she judged it necessary to her success, that Francesco and his brother should be at enmity. But now, that her position as a member of the house of Medici was indefeasibly won, and its interests were her interests, she was anxious to bring about a reconciliation with her brother–in–law.
She opened her new campaign by inducing her husband to change his manner towards his brother. Francesco had always manifested his irritation under the politic Cardinal's sermons and remonstrances, by treating him on all the occasions, when business matters made it necessary for them to communicate, with the greatest rudeness and discourtesy. Under Bianca's management, all this soon disappeared. She was able also to bring about a change which affected Ferdinando yet more sensibly. His magnificent and ostentatious habits caused him always to be in difficulties; and he was very frequently desirous of being allowed to anticipate a little his drafts on his Florentine appanage. This Francesco, rejoicing in an opportunity of spiting his respectable brother, had always, in the most disobliging manner, refused. Now it is intimated to our good brother, that if it should be convenient to him to anticipate his revenues a little, the Grand Duke will be delighted to accommodate him. Then the clever lady finds the means of entering into an epistolary commerce with this highly respectable churchman, who had so sedulously kept her and her abominations from coming between the wind and his propriety. And it is not without considerable elevation of the eyebrows that we find her writing to him on the 24th of December,[198] 1580, in such terms as the following:
"I live," she assures him, "more for you than for myself. Indeed, I live but in you, for I cannot live without you;"—which, as the historian observes, are "very cordial expressions." We shall be justified, however, in assuming that, despite their "cordiality," they were not accurately expressive of the fact; even if we do not go the length of supposing, as many narrators of Bianca's story do, that they express the exact contrary of the fact, we may probably also safely conclude further, that the Cardinal did not believe more of them than we do. And, indeed, it seems difficult to suppose that Bianca should have expected him to believe them. Nevertheless, the dexterous lady's civilities, and patte de velours, did so far prevail, that to the exceeding surprise of all Florence, and to the great dismay of the anti–Medicean faction among the cardinals at Rome, Ferdinando made his appearance in Florence to spend the "villeggiatura" with his brother in the autumn of 1510. Francesco was all kindness and as generous as his ungracious nature would permit him to be, and Bianca the perfection of amiability and deferential affection. The Cardinal was perfectly ready, and well pleased to sacrifice, if not the reality of his deep resentment, at least the outward manifestation of it, to the political objects which were interfered with by the open schism in the family; and the reconciliation appeared to be complete.
But from this time forward, the vantage–ground in the long battle between the woman and the churchman was no longer, as it had hitherto been, on the side of the former. Whether it were, that the tactics adapted to a state of open warfare were better suited to the violent and daring, though by no means sincere nature of Bianca, while the profound dissimulation of hatred, under the mask of friendship, was more congenial to the habits of the politic and respectable churchman, the fact is, that the Grand Duchess had gained her last victory, and that at every subsequent turn of the game the Cardinal had the upper hand, till her final discomfiture left him triumphant master of the field.
For the present, however, it perfectly suited both parties to act in concert with reference to the great object of Medicean state policy, which was then occupying Francesco, and may be, indeed, said to have been the leading aim and interest of his life.
His father, Duke Cosmo, by dint of assiduous obsequiousness to Pope Pius V., and as the price of the blood of his subjects, delivered over to the Inquisition on charges of heresy, had obtained from that pontiff the title of Grand Duke of Tuscany.[199] But, as Sismondi well observes,[200] inasmuch as Tuscany was not, and had never been a fief of the Church, the Pope could have no sort of right to change the title of its sovereign. Accordingly, both the Emperor, whose prerogatives were thus infringed, and the other Italian Dukes, above whom Cosmo sought to take rank by virtue of this new title, refused to admit its validity. And Cosmo died while negotiations with the Emperor were yet pending on the subject. But Francesco succeeded in inducing the Emperor Maximilian II. to confer on him the much desired title by a new decree, taking no notice of the previous concession by the Pope.[201]
But even then, the other sovereigns of Italy would not admit the precedence thus established in favour of the Medici. Especially the haughty and ancient house of Este could not brook that the plebeian upstarts, whose fathers had been haggling for percentages, while their ancestors had been defending their ancient fiefs in the saddle, should now take rank in Europe above them. The Duke of Savoy was equally determined to dispute this promotion over his head; and the Duke of Mantua thought the Gonzagas were as good as the Medici any day.
The style and title attached to the grand–ducal dignity, it seems, was "Most Serene Highness;" and it was very easy for Francesco so to call and write himself, and be called in his own duchy. But the misery of the case was, that all the others forthwith began to do the same. Not a dukeling of them would any more be content to be a "Most Illustrious Excellency." One after another all called themselves "Most Serene" in the coolest manner; and it was even feared, say the historians,[202] that the little Republics would begin to think themselves serene too.
Venice had, time out of mind, always been "most serene," and was by all parties admitted to be so. But the Queen of the Adriatic insisted upon being not only most, but sole serene, and would give the coveted title to none of the disputing parties. Once indeed, we read, the Cardinal d'Este being at Venice, did somehow manage to betray the Doge into speaking of his brother, the reigning Duke of Ferrara, as "his Most Serene Highness;" and great was the triumph of the House of Este. But it was short; for the assembled senate were much displeased at what their Doge had done; and solemnly decreed that it was only a slip of the tongue.
Meantime poor Francesco was, if anything, rather worse off than all the illegitimate serene highnesses. For those wicked and unprincipled confounders of all distinctions agreed together to call each other serene, while nobody would call him so. It was a cruel case; and the Grand Duke, we read,[203] shook with rage, at the thought of all the trouble he had taken, and all the money he had spent in procuring this title, only to find himself after all no serener than his neighbours.
But the cruellest cut of all was to hear that some of these vile pretenders had obtained recognition of their false serenity at the court of France, at the hands of a Medici, and she the head of his house! He sent an envoy to Paris, who under pretext of asking payment of certain moneys lent by him to Charles IX., was to see if the queen–mother could be got to favour his views in the title question. But Catherine replied to his first hint of the matter, that "she did not see how she could do anything for the Grand Duke in that business, seeing that he could give the King of Spain a million of gold at a time, while with her and her son, on the other hand, he looked after so small a matter as that which they owed." The envoy humbly observed that the King of Spain had not done his master the ill–turn in the title business which the Queen had done. "And I did it on purpose," rejoined Catherine, "in return for the small respect the Duke has paid me and my son, in committing assassinations beneath our eyes. And you may write to your master, that he do nothing of the sort again, and specially that he lay hand on no man within this realm; for the King, my son, will not endure it." So Francesco took nothing by that motion.
He carried his complaints next to the Emperor Rodolph II.; begging, that in the Diet shortly to be held, some curb might be put on the usurpations and abuses, which threatened, he said, to make all equal, and leave no distinctions of rank at all. The Duke of Urbino now asserted that he too was as serene as his neighbours; and there was reason to fear that the viceroy of Naples, and even the governor of Milan, would soon be putting forth the same pretensions. He urged on the consideration of the Emperor, that "the distinction of ranks and precedences was so necessary and profoundly based in the very nature of things, that even in hell there were found to be such distinctions among the devils and the damned."[204] And one cannot but feel the force of the argument in the mouth of Francesco, that what was good for devils must be good for dukes.
But the Duke of Savoy was also making remonstrances to the Emperor. He boasted his descent from the ancient family of Saxony; and argued, remarkably enough, that this fact of German extraction ought to assure him the primacy among all Italian dukes. And it is worthy of note, that the Diet considered such a claim well–founded, and in their report to the Emperor begged him "to remember that the Duke of Savoy was of German origin, and for that reason to decree, that he should have precedence over all the dukes of that province."—meaning thereby simply Italy from the Alps to Calabria. The Duke of Ferrara also sent envoys to the Emperor, imploring him to think a little of the difference between his family and that of the Medici, and to let him at least be "most illustrious," if he could do nothing better for him.
Rodolph, however, whose only object was, if possible, to keep them all quiet, would say nothing further than, that in a matter of so great importance, more mature consideration and longer thought was necessary.
Any attempt to unravel and detail all the intrigues, negotiations, schemes, and machinations, to which this question of precedency gave rise, would almost involve writing the official and court history of Italy for nearly half a century. The election of popes was struggled for, cardinals were created, royal marriages made and plotted, alliances and hostilities entered upon, all with a view to this matter. And treaties between one state and another chiefly turned on the condition that one party should admit the "serenity" of the other. Surely "low ambition and the pride of kings," never stooped to busy themselves about "meaner things" than these silly and ridiculously vain–glorious puerilities. It is curious to mark, how the means adopted by the despots of Italy to enervate and degrade their people, acted equally on themselves; and ensured, that the ruler of a nation of fribbles and slaves, should be an eminent "representative man" of their own order.
It is amusing to find, that Bianca had no sooner entered the magic circle of the sacred brotherhood of sovereigns, than she too, as though she had been "to the manner born," shaped herself to the ways and thoughts of her new peers, and must needs have her troubles and negotiations about her rank and style and dignity! If emperors could smile at the ridicule of sovereign dukes, surely the commentary thus supplied on Francesco's pathetic complaint, that even the devils in hell have their proper rank and title, must have relaxed the grim Hapsburg features a little! The case was this:—Don Cesare d'Este, it was reported, was to marry the daughter of the Doge Niccolò da Ponte; one of the conditions of the contract being that the bride was to be crowned daughter of the Republic! Where was the use of giving Francesco the title of "most serene," if every other was to be as serene as he? And where was the compliment of making Bianca a daughter of St. Mark, if the saint was going to have a whole family of daughters? Bianca sent an envoy to Venice to remonstrate, and insist on her claim to be not only the daughter, but the only daughter of St. Mark.
When Bianca's remonstrance was read by her envoy in the Senate, those grave and reverend Seniors, Galluzzi[205] tells us, burst into uncontrollable laughter. Reflecting, however, that the step taken must be considered as a complaint of the sovereign of Tuscany against their state, and that therefore some serious answer must be given to it, they passed a censure on the secretary who had read this precious document, for venturing to bring any such matter before them, declared that they knew nothing of any such proposed marriage, and reminded Bianca, that her quality of daughter of St. Mark did not confer upon her any right whatsoever to interfere with the deliberations of the Republic. The grand–ducal envoy strove to make the best of the matter for his employers, by protesting that his mistress's jealousy on the subject arose solely from the very high value she set on that honour, and should be taken to indicate only the intensity of her affection and respect for the Republic. But the Senate could not be restored to good humour. The consciousness, perhaps, that a ridicule had been cast, even by the laughter into which they had been surprised themselves, on the daughtership of the Republic, helped to make them feel angry; and the envoy was curtly answered, that his application was ill–considered, untimely, and calculated to lead to unpleasant consequences. With which almost menacing answer Bianca's messenger had to return to her.
On the 29th of March, in this same year, 1582, poor Giovanna's son Filippo died in his fifth year. It was a severe blow to the Grand Duke. But as, according to the etiquette of the Spanish court, Philip II. had neither manifested nor permitted to be manifested any sign of grief when his first–born son died, Francesco thought that he would show his royal breeding by imitating so bright an example. Bitter as the loss was to him, therefore, he would not suffer a sigh to escape him, and forbade all mourning whatsoever.[206] But the Tuscans, who had too recently been made acquainted with a sovereign to have learnt the ways and habits of the race, misunderstood their Duke's high–breeding; and thinking simply that Francesco was not sorry for the infant's death, proceeded to conclude, according to a course of things which was familiar and intelligible to them, that Bianca had poisoned the child.
There is, however, not the slightest reason to suspect that anything of the kind was the case. And it may even be doubted whether the death was welcome to Bianca. It is true, that any hope she may have conceived of being able to secure the succession for Don Antonio,—and she seems at times to have formed schemes of the kind,—was rendered possible only by this event. Barring any offspring which might afterwards be born either to Ferdinando or Pietro, Antonio was now the only (reputed) descendant of the house. But, on the other hand, the death of his son threw the Grand Duke into a deeper gloom of melancholy and discontent than ever. And Francesco was not an easy man to live with under such circumstances.
His repining often took the form of reproaches to Bianca for her childlessness. And, assuredly, never were reproaches less deserved, if an earnest desire for offspring, that would continue hoping against hope, were any title to escape from them. Not a nostrum–monger was to be heard of on either side of the Alps, that the unhappy woman did not summon to her aid. With untiring perseverance and ever renascent credulity, she essayed their prescriptions, whether mystical or physical, with the result, it would seem, of very seriously impairing her constitution. More than once she deceived her husband, and very possibly was deceived herself, by false announcements of her pregnancy. If, as it is stated,[207] she made Francesco believe that she had suffered once or more from miscarriage during these years, she was of course guilty of deceit, however much she may have been imposed upon by the impostors who surrounded her. And the only intelligible motive of such falsehood would seem to have been the notion, that by thus keeping alive her husband's hope of having an heir by her, the danger that he might perhaps seek to break his marriage with her, in order to unite himself with some more fortunately circumstanced wife, might be avoided.
The principal residence of the unhappy couple at this period was the solitary villa of Pratolino. The name will be familiar to most travellers in Italy; for the pretty park on the slope of the Apennine, with its magnificent view of the vale of Arno and distant Florence far beneath it, has become a favourite haunt of Florentine pic–nic parties. And the bright green glades, cool mountain air, and fine old trees, make the scenery more like that of English pleasure grounds than perhaps any other spot in Italy.
But the dwelling in which the moody Duke hid himself and his wife from the hate–envenomed eyes of his subjects, exists no longer. Of the pleasure villa, the title of which, like that of many another pleasure scheme, turned out to be so mocking a satire on the designer of stone and mortar happiness, not one block remains upon another. It was situated about eight miles from Florence, in the direction of Bologna, a distance sufficient to secure to Francesco perfect retirement, and that total neglect of all state business and cares in which he indulged during the latter years of his reign. The contemporary accounts[208] which have come down to us of the manner of life he led, shut up in his solitary villa with the unhappy Bianca, are so strange, as to warrant us in concluding that some touch of insanity must have mingled in the disastrously combined elements of his mental and physical constitution. The extraordinary excesses recorded as having been habitual to him are more like the freaks of a madman than the indulgences of a voluptuary.
We hear of his abuse of distilled waters and elixirs; his "immoderate and pernicious familiarity[209] with oil of vitriol, and too frequent use of distilled cinnamon water." His food was always compounded with "hot spices, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and pepper." He would take before eating, during his meal, and after it, a quantity of raw eggs, filled with the hot red pepper of Spain. He was fond of the most indigestible kinds of food, and would eat to excess of raw garlic and capsicums, raw onions, radishes, leeks, and roots of various sorts, with enormous quantities of the strongest cheese. His wine was always of the most fiery and heady sorts. And when he had heated himself beyond endurance with inordinate quantities of such burning liquors and spices, and loaded his stomach with such crudities, he would drink large quantities of iced water, plunge his head and hands in snow, and go to bed in iced sheets. This latter practice was his constant habit; and the writer of the letter cited above says that he did so in imitation of Prospero Colonna and other men of note of that time,—a not improbable trait in the character of a man who refused to mourn his child's death in imitation of another great man.
The characteristic manifestations of his mental condition the while, were, if unhappily less extraordinary, yet quite as unhealthy as his bodily habits. A dark heavy melancholy, ever and anon blazing out in fits of savage ferocity, seemed to grow upon him from day to day. And, upon the whole, he must at this period have been as dangerous and intolerable an animal to live with as can well be imagined.
And if now, once again, we suppose Bianca to cast up her accounts and "take stock" of her position, shut up in this lonely Apennine villa, with a half–mad savage for her mate, conscious of having earned the bitterest hatred and execrations of an entire people, and tormented with unceasing repining for the one unattainable blessing, which should have realised, or seemed to realise, some gain out of so much sin and suffering,—perhaps she may have begun to have misgivings as to the measure and value of her "success."
The family feeling in Italy.—Who shall be the heir?—Bianca at Cerreto.—Camilla de' Martelli.—Don Pietro on the watch.—Bianca at her tricks again.—The Cardinal comes to look after matters.—Was Francesco dupe or accomplice?—Bianca's comedy becomes a very broad farce.—A "Villegiatura" at Poggio–a–Cajano.—The Cardinal wins the game.
The death of the child Filippo was a not less important event to the Cardinal Ferdinando, than to Bianca and Francesco. Ferdinando would have been well content to see the succession of his family pass in due course to a legitimate heir of his elder brother, born of a mother of princely rank. Possibly he might even have been contented if there could have been a legitimately born heir by Bianca. His ambition was wholly for the family, the clan, the race whose name he bore. The excess of this vice, or virtue, is very remarkably characteristic of the Italian idiosyncrasy. It marks every page of the entire course of Italian history, and indeed may be said to constitute a large portion of it. Ferdinando lived for the advancement of the Medicean fortunes and greatness. His feelings and his crimes were prompted by this his master passion; and his virtues, such as they were, of decorousness, moderation, and long–suffering forbearance under his brother's provocations, were practised for the same sake.
Bianca manifested, as we have seen, a similar tendency. The first fruits of the great rise in the world, which made her a prince's "cosa," were dedicated to promote the greatness of the Cappello family. The large sums, grasped in Florence, as the price of degradation, fraud and venality, were despatched to the still dear Venice, which had outlawed her, and to the father, who had first neglected her and then put a price upon her husband's head, not assuredly from tender filial affection, but that a new Cappello palace might be purchased, and the Cappello name be made great in Venice.
This constantly recurring feeling, which at bottom is but the expression of an intensified individuality, will be found to lie at the root of Italian national disaster; and to be an operating cause, to a greater degree probably than any other circumstance, of the secular impossibility—or extreme difficulty, let us more hopefully say—of constructing a nation out of the materials bequeathed by the Italian middle ages to modern times. The intense and exclusive devotion to family in the men who have ancestors, and the same feeling translated into devotion equally intense and exclusive to a municipality, in the men who have none, act as a mutually repellent force on the constituent parts of society, are a dissolvent instead of a uniting and constructive influence, and are deadly to all national patriotism.
Ferdinando then asked only, that the name and greatness of his family should be perpetuated by a regular duly born heir to his eldest brother. And the death of the little Filippo was to him a misfortune of the most fatal kind. For now again the danger that the wretched purchased base–born brat they called Antonio, might become the successor to all the honours, wealth, and greatness of the extinct Medici, became imminent. And the idea was utterly intolerable. Rather than that ... anything, that might be necessary to prevent it!
The conduct of Francesco with reference to Don Antonio after Filippo's death was such as to justify in the strongest manner the Cardinal's misgivings and suspicions respecting his brother's, and more especially Bianca's intentions concerning him. The estates settled on him were increased to the value of sixty thousand scudi a year. A magnificent villa, and grand palace in the city were prepared for his use. Worse still, Francesco had obtained from the king of Spain that the estates purchased for this fortunate youth in the kingdom of Naples should be erected into a principality. And Don Antonio accordingly, now took the style and title of a Prince, and assumed palpably the next place after the sovereign in the eyes of the Florentines.
These circumstances induced the Cardinal in the course of the year 1585, to think seriously of obtaining a dispensation, to enable him to quit the priesthood, give up his cardinal's hat, and marry. Before taking this extreme step however, he determined on endeavouring, if possible, to persuade his brother, Don Pietro, to marry. This was very difficult to do. For though Pietro hated his eldest brother and Bianca quite well enough to be ready to do his best to counteract their plans, he cared nothing for the family name or greatness; and the extreme profligacy of his life made marriage extremely distasteful to him. He alleged in reply to the Cardinal's instances, that the vow he had made to the Virgin, on the occasion of murdering his wife, stood in the way. He had solemnly promised not to marry again, and could not charge his conscience with the breach of so solemn a vow. He added, to save trouble, that no theologian would succeed in persuading him,[210] that the engagement so undertaken was not valid. Nevertheless, he at last consented to do as the Cardinal would have him; and accordingly set on foot negotiations for obtaining the hand of a lady of the Spanish court. Having done this much however, he seemed to be in no hurry to conclude the matter, and continued his usual dissolute life in Florence.
At length, about the middle of November, 1585, he so far yielded to the urgent representations of the Cardinal, as to announce his intention of starting for Spain, to conclude in person the arrangements for his marriage. But about a month later, while he was still waiting for the passage of the Spanish galleons, the news was suddenly spread over Tuscany, that the Grand Duchess had had a miscarriage while staying at Cerreto. Cerreto was a remote villa belonging to the Grand Duke, in the hills, near Empoli, in the lower Valdarno. Some writers assert, that it was in this lonely old castle, and not at Poggio Imperiale, that Paolo Giordano Orsini murdered Isabella. At all events, the place was well adapted for the perpetration of such a deed; and it would seem to have no recommendation save its remoteness, which could have induced Bianca to select it as the scene of her confinement.
This new attempt convinced both the younger brothers of the absolute necessity of keeping the strictest possible watch on Bianca and the Grand Duke. It was pretty clear indeed, that the Grand Duchess only awaited a good opportunity for a repetition of the farce so successfully played at the birth of Don Antonio. This time it had for some reason failed. The mother of the child provided for the contemplated fraud may have miscarried;—the child may have died; or some other accident of the kind have made it necessary that Bianca should terminate her comedy thus ineffectually. But there was every reason to fear that the attempt would be repeated, and very possibly with better success.
Pietro therefore determined to defer his departure; and the Cardinal, when he heard his reasons for doing so, fully approved of his remaining in Florence, till they could have an opportunity of consulting together on the subject.
This was furnished them early in the following year, 1586, on the occasion of the marriage of Virginia de' Medici, the daughter of Cosmo by his wife Camilla de' Martelli, with Don Cesare d'Este. Virginia was thus half–sister to Francesco, Ferdinando, and Pietro, and the Cardinal was to come to Florence to be present at the ceremony. The marriage was accompanied by more than usual splendour. But the only circumstance that excited[211] the interest of the Florentines in the matter, was to see their old Grand Duchess, poor Camilla Martelli, still very beautiful, appearing once again among them, as if risen from the grave. Francesco had permitted her to come out from her nunnery prison, in which he had kept her now twelve years, to be present at the marriage of her daughter. And all Florence was disgusted and astonished, as far as any fresh atrocity on the part of Francesco could astonish it, when the unhappy lady was, at the conclusion of the ceremony, compelled to return to her cell.
Ferdinando, who had frequently endeavoured in vain to induce his brother to mitigate the rigour of her imprisonment, was much angered by this new cruelty. His disgust was increased by the Duke's curt refusal to lend him any money; and he returned to Rome with feelings as hostile to his brother as they had ever been; but not before he had arranged with Don Pietro that he should remain in Florence to watch the proceedings of Bianca and the Grand Duke. The Cerreto event was rendered much more important in their eyes, by the circumstance of the Duke's having, by a formal circular, announced the pregnancy of the Grand Duchess and its unfortunate termination to all the friends and connections of the family. Of what use was it, they asked, to publish the news of a misfortune of such a nature? Evidently it was intended only to keep alive in the minds of those addressed, the expectation that Bianca might have another confinement, and thus prepare the way for a new fraud.
To guard against this was, as the Cardinal felt, paramount to all other considerations. Anxious, therefore, as he had been that Don Pietro should proceed to Spain, to conclude the arrangements for his own marriage, he judged it yet more important that he should for the present remain at Florence.
And it was not long before the suspicions, which had dictated this surveillance, were justified by the event.
In the April of 1586, reports began to be spread that the Grand Duchess was again pregnant. And on the 15th of that month Don Pietro wrote to the Cardinal as follows:—[212]
"I learned from a sure source that Pellegrina"—Bianca's daughter by Bonaventuri, born, as the reader may remember, shortly after her arrival in Florence,—"was with child; and that the fact was kept secret with the greatest care. Some excuse has been found for sending abroad the Count Ulisse,"—Pellegrina's husband, Ulisse Bentivoglio,—"in order that his wife might naturally, and without giving any cause for suspicion, be brought to stay in the palace during his absence. And I have already found out, that in the rooms which it is intended to assign to her, there are no end of hiding–places, and secret stairs communicating with the chamber of the Grand Duchess. All which leaves very little doubt as to this woman's intention. Now, having had ground to fear that some knowledge of Pellegrina's being with child had got abroad, they have told the public that she has miscarried. And this circumstance leads me to feel the more sure of the game she is bent on. And it strikes me, that they have so favourable a combination of person, place, and good–will for the accomplishment of their end, that my presence here can do little to prevent it. For, as to the place, the numerous means of ingress and egress, render it the most adapted for their purpose that could be imagined. As for the person, having Pellegrina with child, ready there to their hand, they may accomplish their object at any moment that is most convenient. And as for good will, there can be no doubt that the Grand Duke would far rather be succeeded on the throne by the grandchild of his wife, than by one in whom he has no interest. It is for your Eminence to judge whether under these circumstances my presence here can be of any use; and whether indeed it may not be more harmful than otherwise; seeing that they will assuredly bring their scheme to bear; and if I am compelled to be here and to look on in silence, the world will consider that a ground for believing the pregnancy of the Grand Duchess to be genuine."
The fact was that the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess did everything they could think of to make remaining at Florence intolerable to Don Pietro. The courtiers were encouraged to treat him in every possible way with disrespect and insolence. A Spanish mistress, who was living with him at Florence, was continually insulted by Bianca. The Grand Duke's own manner was so brutal to him, that Pietro avoided ever being seen by him. All this torment kept Pietro, who was a passionate man, and unused to the Cardinal's habits of self–command and dissimulation, in such a state of irritation, that he was anxious only to escape from Florence. "I remain here," he wrote to the Cardinal, "with such loathing, that any other place however wretched would be a Paradise to me in comparison." And he told him how his suspicions were confirmed, and at the same time his presence rendered of small avail, by the placing of new sentinels in various parts of the palace, the erection of gates on the staircases, and the total inaccessibility of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess.
The Cardinal still urged him to arm himself with patience, and remain at his post, till they should have an opportunity of consulting together upon the subject in person. "The pregnancy of Pellegrina," he wrote, "gives me less suspicion than that of any other woman. For her lying–in would be necessarily attended with so many circumstances of publicity, with regard to time, place, number, and quality of assistants, &c., that it would seem impossible to turn it to account for the purpose in question. Nevertheless, it is well to keep a watchful eye upon her; but not with such exclusive attention as to prevent you from looking elsewhere. For those who are bent on similar frauds have need rather of the aid of the lowest classes of society, whose children come into the world at street corners."
At last, however, Don Pietro's letters urging the Cardinal to consent to his leaving Florence became so pressing, concluding as they did with a hint, that if he were kept there any longer, "something might happen which his Eminence might be very sorry for, when it was too late to help it," that Ferdinando thought it best to agree to his going to Spain. It was determined, however, that before his departure he should find some means of letting the Grand Duke and Duchess know that they were watched, and thus warning them, that any attempt to tamper with the succession of the Duchy would not pass unobserved or undisputed.
Accordingly, when it happened that Bianca, who was extremely anxious to get rid of her brother–in–law, sent him notice that the Spanish galleons were at Leghorn, and that, if he wished for a passage, it behoved him to start, he took the opportunity of waiting upon her; and in reply to her intimation, said that he should consider himself failing in the duty he owed her Highness if he were not to wait until her confinement were over, especially as the Cardinal had made a great point of his paying her that attention. Bianca replied that she really did not think for her part that she was with child; that the Grand Duke indeed had got it into his head that she was so, and could not be persuaded otherwise; that it was true enough that she was far from well; but that, if she really were with child, she was certainly only in the third month; and that whatever the event might be, she would take care that he and the Cardinal should be made acquainted with it instantly.
In the letter, in which Pietro gives the Cardinal an account of this interview,[213] he writes: "I watched most closely her manner and the changes of her countenance, which were exceedingly visible. She changed colour in the most violent manner. It seems to me that I have done my part of the business, and have left such a fly in her ear, that she will either find herself forced to declare herself shortly, or that she will have the greatest difficulty in bringing her scheme to a good issue."
It was not long before the Cardinal came himself to Florence, to see how matters were going on, much to the annoyance of the Grand Duke. He brought with him his cousin, Don Luigi di Toledo; and, by his means, took care to pour into Francesco's ear all the sinister rumours which were, he said, afloat respecting Bianca's pregnancy. He made Don Luigi tell him, as from himself, that unpleasant things had been said at the court of Spain; and pointed out to him, that, under these circumstances, his honour absolutely required that the birth of a prince, if, indeed, one was about to be born, should be so managed as to remove all possibility of suspicion and slander.
The Grand Duke became more and more irritated from day to day, as these rumours and observations were forced upon him. He grew restless and agitated; and conceived a more bitter hatred than ever against Ferdinando, who was, as he believed, with a near approach to truth, the principal, if not the only mover of it all. But it is remarkable, as Galluzzi observes, that the more the Grand Duke became savage and brutal in his manner to the Cardinal, the more profuse was Bianca in graciousness and affability, and in the apparent openness with which she spoke to him of her hopes or fears.
Leaving matters in this train, the Cardinal returned to Rome; while, according to Florentine court authorities, Bianca's pregnancy continued to proceed towards its conclusion in the most satisfactory manner. The Grand Duke's conduct during this time makes it very difficult to judge whether he sincerely believed that the Grand Duchess was about to give him an heir at last, or whether he was all the time contemplating a second performance of the farce which took place at the birth of Don Antonio, of which he had been at first the dupe, but in which he had become afterwards the accomplice;—or, finally, whether both these suppositions were true, so that, if his sincere hopes of a child by Bianca should be disappointed, he was ready to supply the desideratum by a fraud. He lived in a perpetual agitation of mind, and showed a degree of irritation and annoyance at the notice which the Cardinal's manœuvres had drawn upon the doings at the Pitti, that, joined to his former conduct, is suspicious. On the other hand, he acted in many respects as if he were sincere in the matter.
It is also to be observed that, possibly enough, Bianca may have been sincere on this occasion; especially as we know she never abandoned her hopes, and was always trying new means to bring about her desire. She seems to have professed to be very doubtful on the subject to the last. But some writers insinuate, that while she expressed doubts to the Cardinal, she spoke in an entirely different manner to her husband.
Meantime, the daily reports in Florence were the amusement of the citizens, and the bulletins made Francesco and his hopes the laughing–stock of all Italy.
Francesco had ordered that all the chiefs of the different magistracies, the Archbishop of Florence, and the Bishop Abbioso, should be present at the birth. And this, it must be owned, looks very much as if he were sincere in his expectations, either duped by Bianca, as in the former case, or partaking in her error. He also wrote to the Cardinal, though in very ungracious terms, to invite his presence at Florence on the occasion. "Since the promotion (of Cardinals) is over," he wrote, "and there is nothing further to detain your Eminence in Rome, I will not neglect to tell you that the Grand Duchess advances in her pregnancy visibly from day to day, and with greater hope of a fortunate issue than ever. You can therefore come, if it so please you, and observe all that takes place. You have still the time to do so, and cannot now say afterwards, that you were left in ignorance upon the subject."[214]
But in answer to this hostilely worded invitation, and to a second letter written in the same tone, the Cardinal replied by an angry letter, absolutely refusing to come or to send any one to Florence on his behalf, "as he had no wish to see or hear more in the matter than the Grand Duke did himself, seeing that his Highness was the person chiefly interested."
That this was false we know with certainty from the Cardinal's correspondence with his brother, Don Pietro. He had been extremely anxious to obtain a better guarantee for the truth respecting the issue of Bianca's pregnancy than the Grand Duke's testimony. What then was the cause of this sudden change of tone? Are we to suppose that he had already taken his measures for being informed of the truth so satisfactorily as to feel that his own presence in Florence could be of no further use? Or had he convinced himself that no fraud was on this occasion intended?
And thus matters went on till December, in the year 1586, the time when, according to Bianca's calculations, her confinement ought to be near at hand. And all was still doubt and suspense. The four court physicians held different opinions on the great question. The highest obstetric authorities, summoned from all parts of Italy, were equally far from being unanimous. The courtiers, however, daily perceived increasing signs of the approach of the wished–for event. The Bishop Abbioso certified to having felt the movement of the expected stranger. His rivals in court favour strove to better his bidding for the sovereign's good graces by boldly predicting twins. Francesco kept horses ready saddled, and couriers booted, to carry the glad tidings in different directions the instant his hopes should be fulfilled. And all the Florence gossips the while were amusing themselves at the expense of the much hated prince, and the still more detested "witch," his wife, by unceasing volleys of satires, pasquinades, and unseemly jests. Till one fine morning the horses were unsaddled, the couriers permitted to retire, and the Florentines were informed that, after a fit of colic which had been so severe as to endanger her life, the person of the Grand Duchess had resumed its usual form.
It is impossible to arrive at any certainty of the truth respecting this incident of Bianca's career. Bearing in mind, however, her previous performances, and the very potent reasons she had to find in some way an heir for the duchy,—remembering also Francesco's evident annoyance at the attention drawn to the matter by his brothers, and the arrangements made at the palace, the probability seems to be, that it was intended to introduce a supposititious child, as on the former occasion; that the vigilance and dexterity of the Cardinal compelled the sovereign conspirators to abandon the scheme as too dangerous; and that all Francesco's measures for security, publicity, and authenticating the birth, were merely blinds, under cover of which the tentative might be abandoned.
Soon after this event the Grand Duke and the Cardinal became once more apparently reconciled by the good offices of the Archbishop of Florence. Correspondence was resumed on a friendly footing; and now that there was no further question of the Grand Duke's having an heir, the two brothers could act together in schemes for the marriage of Don Pietro, who was all this time at the court of Spain, getting deeper every day into debt and into infamy by the outrageous profligacy of his conduct, and pretending to be taking steps, but in reality doing nothing, towards making some suitable marriage. Bianca, also, was, as she had never ceased to be since her marriage, all amiability and affability towards Ferdinando; and it was agreed that he should come to Florence, to visit his brother and sister–in–law, at the time of the "villeggiatura," the following September.
This "villeggiatura,"—the autumnal country–life portion of a town–loving Italian's year, when landed proprietors leave the city "palazzo," which is their family seat and residence, to spend a month, or perhaps two, at their villa, and among their vineyards, and invite their friends to pass the "villeggiatura" with them, as an Englishman fills his house at Christmas,—this villeggiatura to which Ferdinando was invited by Francesco and Bianca, was to take place at Poggio–a–Cajano, one of the Grand Duke's numerous country residences. Notwithstanding its name—"Poggio,"—a hill, it is a low–lying spot on the banks of the Ombrone, at the foot of Monte Albano, about half way between Florence and Pistoia. The pleasure–grounds around the house are intersected by a great number of canals, many of which can hardly be correctly called streams, and altogether there is a great deal of water, more or less approaching to a stagnant condition in the immediate neighbourhood. It is, in short, a place which would be at once pronounced as very ineligible for an autumnal residence under an Italian sun, by any one possessed of the smallest smattering of sanitary science.
The Cardinal did not arrive in Florence till the beginning of October. He was received with all demonstrations of the most affectionate welcome; and the party proceeded at once, as had been planned, to Poggio–a–Cajano. The Archbishop of Florence, who had on more than one occasion acted as a mediator between the two brothers, accompanied them. The days, we read, were passed in sport among the surrounding hills and marshes, which abounded in game; and the evenings in conversations, in which the Archbishop and Bianca, who strove, apparently, in every way to render herself agreeable to her guest, did all they could to conciliate and soothe the two evil, though so different, natures of those brothers Medici.
The days that thus passed, however, could have been but very few. And the remainder of the strange story, if restricted to such facts as are certain, and universally admitted, may be told with a brevity that will not appear more abrupt to the reader, than were the events sudden and startling to those who witnessed them.
On the 19th of October, about nine o'clock in the evening, the Grand Duke Francesco died. And on the following morning—(writers differ about the hour)—Bianca followed him.
Ferdinando succeeded without disturbance to the throne. Francesco was interred, by his orders, with all due pomp in the family mausoleum, under the dome of San Lorenzo; and Bianca was, also by his orders, thrown, wrapped in a sheet, into the common receptacle for the bodies of the poor, under the nave of that church.
These are the entire ascertainable facts of the case. But it will be interesting to examine the different opinions which have prevailed respecting them among Florentine historians; and, after weighing their conjectures, to judge for ourselves as to the balance of probabilities for or against them.