He knew well enough that what had come to pa.s.s, unless unchallenged, would imperil his presumptive t.i.tle. First it was sought to throw doubt upon Bianca's actual maternity, and next to secure the person of the little boy.

Bianca and Antonio, under a strong guard, were sent off to Pratolino, hers and Francesco's best-loved retreat--they had together planned its beauties. There, during her make-believe convalescence, she came to consider the very serious nature of her love's stratagem, and she determined to make a full confession to her lover. The Grand Duke was thunderstruck, but at once he recognised the emphatic importance of secrecy; for, as Vincenzio Borghini quaintly said: "Florence was the greatest market in the world for tissues and materials of _all_ kinds, and full of evil eyes, and ears, and tongues!" Meanwhile Ferdinando had not let the water run under the Arno bridges for nothing. He discovered the surgeon-accoucheur who had attended Madonna Bianca--one Giovanni Gazzi. He maintained the fact of the confinement, but incidentally named the wet nurse, Giovanna Santi. This woman admitted that she had been instrumental in the introduction into Madonna Bianca's chamber of the newly-born son of a reputable woman, who lived with her husband behind the _Stinche_.

No trace could be found of these humble parents of Francesco's supposit.i.tious child, and all Ferdinando's enquiries were fruitless.

Many were the tales rife, in and out of the palaces and markets, but neither the Grand Duke nor Bianca took any steps to refute them, and after being, as usual, a nine days' wonder, the subject dropped, apparently.

The Grand d.u.c.h.ess Giovanna gave birth, on 19th May, the following year, to a son--a sickly child to be sure, but the undoubted heir of his father. Ferdinando's hopes were shattered, but he had not done with Bianca Buonaventuri. Within nine months, on 9th February, Giovanna died, somewhat suddenly, and the Cardinal failed not to intimate that Bianca was the cause thereof, and to name poison as her means! The truth is, that the Grand d.u.c.h.ess one day getting out of her sedan-chair, slipped upon the polished marble floor, and, being again near her confinement, a miscarriage resulted, from which she never recovered.

Within two months of the burial of sour-tempered, unlovable Giovanna, the Grand Duke married Bianca, Pietro Buonaventuri's widow, privately in the chapel of the Palazzo Vecchio.

One immediate result of this marriage was the quasi-legitimisation of the child Antonio--a vigorous youngster and certain to outlive frail little Filippo.

Reconciliation with Venice, public marriage, and Coronation were in due order celebrated, and Bianca Cappello, "the true and undoubted daughter of Venice," was enthroned in the Duomo, as the true and lawful Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Tuscany! Cardinal Ferdinando watched all these ceremonials from afar--the only one of his family who declined to honour the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess with his presence during the festivities.

Represented by an inferior official of his household, he remained in Rome, closely shut up in his palace, a spectacle to the world at large of ungovernable prejudice and foiled ambition. His cogitations, however, were very grateful, for he was working out in his intriguing brain a ready method for ridding himself, not alone of the two children, bars to his pretensions, but of the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess also!

Ferdinando was determined to succeed Francesco as Sovereign of Tuscany, come what might!

Never was a man more changed than the Grand Duke Francesco when he placed the new Grand d.u.c.h.ess beside him on his throne. Twelve years of gloom and disappointment gave way before the advent of the "Sun of Venice."

The best, happiest, and most popular years of his reign exactly synchronise with the period of Bianca's ascendency. No strife of parties, no pestilence, no foreign war, black-marked those years. Arts and crafts revived with the increase of population and of confidence, and men began to agree that there was something after all to be said--and to be said heartily--for Macchiavelli's "Prince," and his idea of a "_Il Governo d'un solo_."

In this glorious eventide of the Renaissance were reproduced some of the magnificence of its heyday, under Lucrezia and Lorenzo de' Medici.

In the early days of Francesco's infatuation for Bianca he had given forth an impa.s.sioned madrigal, which once more he sang to her as his good angel-guardian:--

"Around my frail and battered barque There is always serenely swimming, And wakefully watching me, Lest I perish, a beautiful and powerful Dolphin.

Warn'd and shielded from every buffet Of the deadly wave, I feel secure.

Fierce winds no longer cause me fear.

I seek succour no more from oars and sails Safely accompanied by my loving Guardian!"

Francesco's devotion for Bianca continued as the years sped on their way, and he noted with supreme satisfaction that every word and action of hers were marked with unquestioning affection. The loves of Francesco and Bianca at Pratolino recalled those of Giuliano and Simonetta at Fiesole, whilst the wits, and beaux, and beauteous women who consorted there, revived the glories of the Platonic Academy.

Montaigne, who visited the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess, both at the Pitti Palace and at Pratolino, in 1580, says: "I was surprised to see her take the place of honour above her husband.... She is very handsome ... and seems to have entirely subjugated the Prince."

The Cardinal was not un.o.bservant of the trend of Florentine affairs.

Plots and counterplots were quite to his liking. The Pucci conspiracy and the vengeance upon the Capponi affected him closely. Francesco was not ignorant of the patronage and encouragement vouchsafed to his secret enemies by his eminent brother in Rome--and he watched each move.

The peace and prosperity which marked the progress of the "City of the Lion and the Lily," after Bianca Buonaventuri mounted the Grand Ducal throne, were not regarded complacently by the uneasy Cardinal. The very fact that she was the admirable cause thereof, embittered his Eminence's soul, and his spleen was mightily enlarged by the creatures who pandered to his vicious ill-nature. The fascination of the G.o.ddess engendered detestation as love was turned once more to hate in the crucible of his pa.s.sions.

"She is nothing but a strumpet, and without a drop of royal blood," so he reasoned, and so he spoke; and he backed up his aphorism by conniving at the foul report in 1582, which accused "Bianca Buonaventuri"--as he always styled her--of causing poison to be administered to poor little Filippo--Giovanna's puny, sickly child! He even had the audacity to accuse Francesco of complicity, because he had ordered no elaborate court mourning, conveniently ignoring the fact that a gracious compliment was paid to Spanish custom and court etiquette, by the simplicity of the obsequies.

Plotters of other men's wrongs were ever inconsistent! One would have thought that Ferdinando would have hailed the removal of the only legitimate heir, before himself, to the Grand Duchy, but the delirium of jealousy and the fury of animosity in the Cardinal's evil heart, found a sort of culmination two years later. Bianca's daughter, Pellegrina, the only offspring of Pietro Buonaventuri, gave birth to a child. She had married, shortly after the public nuptials of the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess, Count Ulisse Bentivoglio di Magiola of Bologna--a by no means happy marriage as it turned out. This child, a boy, their first-born--indeed poor, pretty Pellegrina's love-child--the Cardinal affirmed "Bianca Buonaventuri" had tried to pa.s.s off as her own--another subterfuge confirmative of the first, and that his brother was conversant with the intrigue!

The Grand Duke met the gossip with impa.s.sive silence--the wisest thing he could have done--and the Grand d.u.c.h.ess laid herself out to make Cardinal Ferdinando utterly ashamed of himself and his foul aspersions.

The integrity of her conduct, and Francesco's sapient conduct of the Government were the admiration of all Italy.

So struck was the Pope with the peace and happiness of the Medicean rule, and the personal characteristics of "the good wife and beneficent consort," as he styled her, that he bestowed upon the Grand d.u.c.h.ess the rare distinction of the "Golden Rose"! At first his Holiness desired the Cardinal de' Medici to head the special mission as Legate, and talked seriously to his Eminence upon his relations with the Sovereigns of Tuscany. He pointed out quite clearly the line of conduct Ferdinando should pursue--the direct converse of the position he had taken up.

The Cardinal began to reflect that the death of little Prince Filippo, and the fact that Francesco had not proclaimed Antonio his heir-apparent, left him at all events the undoubted heir-presumptive.

Consequently, when the Florentine Mission, under Archbishop Giuseppe Donzelle of Sorrento, returned to Rome, and the Legate conveyed to him a cordial invitation from the Tuscan Sovereigns to visit Florence, he accepted it with the best grace he could command--keeping, at the same time, his true feelings and intentions to himself.

Pageant and dirge trip up each other often enough in the course of human life! The lives especially of sovereigns, through the strong light ever beating upon their thrones, are always exposed to vicissitudes of fortune. The Papal Mission had scarcely pa.s.sed out of recollection, and everything in Florence was happy and prosperous--sunshine is always brightest before eclipse--when the spectre of tragedy again cast its dark shadow over the path of the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess.

A right merry party was that which set off from the Palazzo Pitti to the Villa Poggio a Caiano one bright morning in October 1587. The "hunter's moon was up," for the harvest had been gathered in, and the new luscious grapes were in the vat. Pheasant awaited the coming of the sportsmen in the home-coppices, wild boar in the thickets of Monte Ginestra, and other game was ready for the hawk-on-wrist and the dog-in-leash along the smiling valley of the Ombrone.

Hunting and sporting parties were now quite in the Grand d.u.c.h.ess' way.

Unused to such exploits upon the ca.n.a.ls and lagunes of Venice, she had, from the moment of her elevation, sympathetically entered into the joys of horsemanship and the pastimes of the countryside. Few could beat her in point-to-point--she feared no obstacle, nor dreaded accident, the charge of wild game terrified her not.

"Magnificent," she wrote, on 15th November 1586, "was the sport.... I actually saw four very large boars fall dead at my feet." The Grand Duke, of course, as became "a perfect gentleman," was at one with Bianca in love for, and skill in, all exercises in the open air. His seat was firm, his aim was good, and he revelled in the chase.

Still of Poggio a Caiano he had unpleasing memories, for there he met Giovanna of Austria, and had the first taste of her ill-humour as he rode by her side at her scornful entry into Florence, twelve years before. But Bianca had wrought a vast change in his disposition and environment. She had interwoven fancy and reality, and Francesco was now serenely happy. Often did he sing tender madrigals as they together sauntered in the woods and indulged in pastoral pursuits.

"Sing! sing! ye birds I am wide awake Tho' silent 'mid your tender harmony; And yet I would fain join your sweet concert, Whilst upon the face of fair Bianca, 'Mirror of Love'--I fix my yearning eyes."

The Cardinal was one of this particular hunting party--indeed, the hunt had been arranged entirely in his honour, and he expressed himself as charmed with everything--and especially with the Grand d.u.c.h.ess. This was his first State visit to his brother's Court and his affability knew no bounds. Bianca, on her part, laid herself out to entertain her brother-in-law, and made herself especially attractive and gracious. The presence of the Archbishop of Florence added greatly to her satisfaction and Francesco's. Very wisely, young Antonio was sent to Pratolino with his governor and tutors, and in the merry company no personality could, in any way, recall unhappy incidents of the past. The days were pa.s.sed in the exhilaration of sport, and the evening repasts were followed by animated conversation, ballets, music and recitations. All the brightest ornaments of the Court were present at the Grand d.u.c.h.ess' behest.

Bianca, herself, in the highest spirits, dressed, sang, and danced, bewitchingly. The frolics of the Orte Oricellari were transferred to the delightful hunting-box, and everybody and everything was as gay as gay could be, and no one troubled about the morrow.

Alas, when the merriment was at its height, a sudden stop was put to all the festivities, for, during the night of 8th October, the Grand Duke was taken ill with severe spasms and violent sickness. The Grand d.u.c.h.ess was summoned to his side, and full of alarm and devotion, she at once despatched a mounted messenger into Florence to command the attendance of the Court physicians--Messeri Giulio Agnolo da Barga and Ferdinando Cino da Roma.

They a.s.sured her that their princely patient was merely suffering from an error in diet--the dish of mushrooms, of which he had partaken freely overnight, had not been well prepared--but they considered that all ill effects would disappear as suddenly as they had arisen. The report of Francesco's illness reached the Vatican, and the Pope addressed a kindly letter to the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, conveying a good-natured homily to the Grand Duke upon the evils of gluttony!

Bianca cast aside her sparkling coryphean tinsel, and, putting on a quiet gown and natty little cap, appointed herself nurse-in-chief to her dear husband, and no one was better fitted for the post. Torquato Ta.s.so, her Poet-Laureate, noted her tender, compa.s.sionate character and her sweet sympathy with human infirmities. In 1578 he had put forth the first of his _Cinquanta Madrigali_, with a pathetic dedication to the Grand d.u.c.h.ess.

"Had your Highness," he wrote, "not experienced yourself both good and evil fortune, you could not so perfectly understand, as you do, the misfortunes of others." He goes on, in his _Rime_, to extol his patroness:

"Lady Bianca, a kindly refuge Holds and cheers one in sad and weary pain."

Matters a.s.sumed, however, a very different aspect on the morning of the tenth, for the Grand d.u.c.h.ess was seized with symptoms exactly similar to those of the Grand Duke, whose condition by no means warranted the confidence of the physicians. Alarm spread through the villa and the guests departed in the greatest anxiety. The Cardinal alone remained, and his lack of solicitude and general indifference gave the members of the suite occasion for remark and suspicion.

He a.s.sumed the air of the master of the place, and gave orders as he deemed well. Into the household he introduced some servants of his own, and ordered out his Florentine bodyguard. Urgent messages pa.s.sed to and fro between him and his brother Piero de' Medici, and communications were opened with Domina Cammilla, the Cardinal's stepmother in the convent of Saint Monica. These did not allay the universal distrust.

Bianca's own physician failed to diagnose her indisposition, whilst the Court physicians scouted the idea--already being translated into words--that the sudden attacks of the Grand Ducal couple were due to _poison_. What else could it be? The symptoms pointed that way and no other!

On the third day tertiary fever intervened, with incessant thirst and fits of delirium, and Francesco's condition caused the gravest anxiety.

Bianca was inconsolable. Unable to wait upon him, and suffering exactly as was he, she penned, propped up with pillows, a piteous appeal to the Pope, in which she craved his Holiness's prayers and benedictions, and also his fatherly protection for Francesco and herself. She said: "I do not feel at all sure of the Cardinal." The pontiff replied sympathetically, and a.s.sured her that no wrong should be done her or the Grand Duke by anybody.

Francesco showed no signs of improvement, but gradually got weaker. When too late for any remedial measures to have effect, the physicians, in private conference, agreed that the cause of his seizure was poison, but--looking from the clenched hand of the dying prince to the open palm of his successor--they, in sordid self-interest, held their tongues. Who had administered the fatal drug, and when, and where, had better not be published! If by a fraternal hand, then it was no concern of theirs!

The Grand Duke expired in agony on the tenth day after his seizure.

Bianca could not leave her couch to soothe his last moments. She was nearly as far gone as he, and her attendants waited upon her with the gloomiest forebodings. To her impa.s.sioned cries for her husband, they returned deceptive answers. None of her kith and kin were near to comfort her. Her only brother, Vettor, had been dismissed the Tuscan Court in the year of her coronation for unseemly and presumptuous behaviour, and his wife went back with him to Venice. There was no time and no one to correspond with her favourite cousin Andrea. Her tenderly-loved daughter, Pellegrina was at Bologna, nursing her own little Bianca, lately born, and could not travel so far as Florence.

Little Antonio would have been an affectionate companion in his loving foster-mother's illness, but the child was at Pratolino with Maria and Eleanora, unhappy Giovanna's daughters. The former, just fifteen years old, had been Bianca's special care. She was a precocious child, and her stepmother imparted to her some of her own delightful inspirations--the two were inseparable. What a comfort she would have been in gentle ministrations to the suffering Grand d.u.c.h.ess!

Perhaps, had pain-racked, dying Bianca imagined the splendid destiny of the attractive young Princess Maria, she might have gathered no little solace. Could she but have seen her own example and her precepts reincarnated in a Queen of France--for Maria became the consort of Henry II., and ruled him, his court and realm--she would have turned her face to the wall with greater equanimity.