Just before his death the Grand Duke sent for Ferdinando, told him he had been poisoned by no one but himself, and charged him with the double murder, for he had constant news, of course, of Bianca's illness. He asked him in that solemn hour to honour both of them in burial, to protect the little boy Antonio and his two young daughters, Maria and Eleanora, and to treat kindly all who had been faithful and true to Bianca and himself. Then he gave him the pa.s.sword for the Tuscan fortresses, and asked for his confessor, and so he pa.s.sed away. As soon as Francesco was dead, Ferdinando demanded to be admitted to the bedside of Bianca. Concealing from her the fatal news, he intimated that Francesco had consigned to him the conduct of affairs, and in the most heartless, inhuman fashion possible, bade her prepare for death!

"See," he added, "I have brought your friend, Abbioso; you may as well make your confession to him as Francesco has done to Frate Confetti."

Bianca, though only partially conscious, knew exactly what the Cardinal meant, and railed at him for his cruelty. In delirium she made pa.s.sionate appeals to Francesco, and wildly denounced her treacherous brother-in-law. Her cries resounded through the villa, but they stirred no feeling of regret or compunction in Ferdinando's breast. He gloated, fiend-like, over his victim's sufferings. It was not by chance he procured the potent poison he had used. The empiric-medico at Salerno had been well paid to furnish a potion that should, by its slow but deadly action, prolong the tortures of the sufferers! A less vindictive murderer would have secured his victim's quick release, but, during ten terrible days of sickness, delirium and agony, he witnessed the inevitable progress of his vengeance! If Cosimo, his father, had called his young son Garzia "Cain," what would not he have called the man, the bloodthirsty Ferdinando?

Bianca's illness followed precisely the course of the Grand Duke's. The tearful faces of her attendants, and the noise of preparations for his burial, conveyed to her in calmer moments the terrible truth, and she had no longer any wish to live--parted from Francesco. Bianca was already dead. She called the bishop and made a full confession of her whole life's story, hiding nothing, palliating nothing. Out of a full heart she spoke--that heart which had been the source of all her love and her happiness, her misery and her sin.

Antonio she commended to Bishop Abbioso's care, and begged him send the news of her death and Francesco's to Cavaliere Bartolommeo Cappello at Venice. After absolution and last communion, Bianca Cappello, "Daughter of Venice," Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Tuscany, breathed her last in peace--the delirium having abated--on the evening of 30th October, just two days after her husband.

A _post-mortem_ examination, or at least the form of one, upon the Grand Duke revealed, it was said, advanced disease of the liver, the consequences of his unwisdom in the use of cordials and elixirs! With the connivance of the Court physicians, Ferdinando put out a proclamation that the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess--he was compelled to use the t.i.tle then in speaking of Bianca--had died from "attacks of malarial fever, induced by the unhealthy atmosphere of Poggio a Caiano."

Francesco's obsequies were attended by all the stately ceremonies usual in the Medici family. Conveyed into Florence by the _Misericordia_ on the evening of his death, his body was exposed for three days in state in the Palazzo Pitti, and then carried in solemn procession to the church of San Lorenzo for burial.

If merely to save appearances, or to conceal his real intention, the new Grand Duke ordered the body of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess to be placed beside that of her husband in the Cappella Medici of the church. For six brief hours it was suffered to remain, and then, at midnight, agents of Ferdinando, well paid for their profanity, deported all that was mortal of the brilliant "woman whom he hated" to an unknown grave in the paupers' burial plot beyond the city boundary! "For," said he, "we will have none of her among our dead!"

Such was the end of the beautiful and accomplished Bianca Cappello--"Bianca, so richly endowed," as wrote one of her panegyrists, "by nature, and so refined by discipline, able to sympathise with and help all who approached her--her fame for good will last for ever!" The wiles of the serpent and his cruel coils had crushed the "Daughter of Venice": it was the triumph of an unworthy man over a lovable woman. She was not the only victim Ferdinando's poison overpowered--Giovanni de'

Pucci, whom the Pope was about to advance to the Cardinalate, an inoffensive ecclesiastic, incurred Cardinal Ferdinando's displeasure by his sympathy with the Grand d.u.c.h.ess. He died mysteriously after drinking a gla.s.s of wine which Ferdinando had poured out for him![A]

[Footnote A: In 1857, when the Medici graves at San Lorenzo were opened, the bodies of the Grand Duke Francesco and the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Giovanna were easily identified. The bodies also of Maria, the unhappy victim of her father, Cosimo, with the fatal wound; of Eleanora de Garzia de Toledo, Piero's murdered wife; and of Isabella, d.u.c.h.ess of Bracciano, were also recognised. All five were in wooden chests, but robbed of the costly grave-clothes and jewels. _There was no trace of the body of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Bianca!_]

Bianca had not been many days buried when ominous reports began to be rife all over Florence and along the countryside. People asked each other why the body of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess had been s.n.a.t.c.hed. "Was it,"

they said, "to hide the real culprit and to stifle awkward questions?"

The tongues of the night-birds, who had thrown that precious body aside contemptuously, and had not been permitted to mark the grave in any way, were loosened, they gave the name of their employer--Ferdinando's major-domo.

That was quite enough to fix preferentially the guilt upon the guilty party, but when the medical advisers of the new Grand Duke admitted reluctantly that neither Francesco nor Bianca had died from malarial causes, the chitter-chatter of the villa and the palace became unmuzzled, and first one and then another domestic--more or less personal--contributed his piece of private knowledge of the facts of the double tragedy.

Putting these all together piecemeal, the story reads somewhat as follows: Cardinal Ferdinando had for a very long time determined that it was absolutely essential to his succession to the Grand Duchy that Don Francesco should not be permitted to have a child--a boy, by his second wife, Bianca.

Francesco's health was indifferent and he seemed likely not to live long, but, be that as it might, the Cardinal joined the hunting-party at Poggia a Caiano fully intent upon making an attempt upon the lives of both Francesco and Bianca. Among his suite was a valet, one Silvio, a man of fiendish ingenuity, who had made himself invaluable to his master in many an intrigue. To him Ferdinando committed the task of mixing the poison, which he procured from Salerno, in the food or beverage of the Grand Ducal couple.

Silvio made several attempts to accomplish his commission, but the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess did not touch the dishes--specially treated as they pa.s.sed from the kitchen to the hall--whilst in their cooling wine cups, so much beloved of Francesco, the poison failed of its effect. To be sure, two days before the Grand Duke's actual seizure, he rejected a game-pasty which had a peculiar taste, and the Grand d.u.c.h.ess had, as she thought, detected her brother-in-law playing with the wine gla.s.ses, which she at once caused to be replaced by others.

Upon the evening when a ragout of mushrooms was served at the supper-table, it was observed that the Cardinal quite emphatically declined to partake of the dish, but that he pressed Francesco and Bianca to eat largely of it! Bianca ate sparingly, and advised her husband to follow her example; her intuition perceived danger in the delicacy, alas, it was in vain!

This was all, perhaps, that came out concerning the tragedy, but the Cardinal met the story with another. He caused it to be bruited about that Bianca had tried to circ.u.mvent _his_ death! For this purpose she had herself made a cake, which she urged him to eat, but which Francesco insisted upon tasting, whereupon she consumed what he had left. The Cardinal further put into the Grand d.u.c.h.ess's mouth the plausible lament; "We will die together if Ferdinando escapes!"

n.o.body believed this version, which merely confirmed the real truth, for neither Francesco or Bianca had ever expressed a wish for Ferdinando's death.

Within three hours of the death of Francesco, Ferdinando rode swiftly into Florence, accompanied by a suite of his own creatures--not a single officer of the Grand Ducal house accompanied him. His escort was fully armed and so was Ferdinando. Stopped at the gate by the guard, he gave, to the utter surprise of the subaltern, the Grand Ducal pa.s.sword, and was accorded the Sovereign's salute. Thence he pa.s.sed at a gallop to the Palazzo Pitti, where he placed personally his seal upon the great doors, and then put up at the Palazzo Medici.

A messenger was despatched before dawn to the Dean of the Duomo to order the big bell to sound. This was the first intimation to Florence that the Grand Duke Francesco was dead. The Lords of the Council hastened from their beds to the Palazzo Vecchio, where Ferdinando joined them, and, there and then, required them to pay him their allegiance.

Thus Ferdinando de' Medici became third Grand Duke of Tuscany. His character as a ruler may not be discussed here at length, but of him it has been succinctly said: "He had as much talent for government as is compatible with the absence of all virtue, and as much pride as can exist without true n.o.bility of mind."

When Pietro Buonaventuri so complacently resigned his bewitching young wife to be the plaything of Don Francesco de' Medici, he also yielded up the guardianship of his little daughter, Pellegrina, and she lived with her mother in the private mansion Bianca had received from the Prince near the Pitti Palace.

At the time of the a.s.sa.s.sination of Pietro the child was eight years old--a lovely girl, resembling, in person and manners, her attractive mother. The Prince took her under his special care, in fact adopted her, and treated her as if she was his own dear daughter. Naturally, the d.u.c.h.ess Giovanna resented this arrangement, and strictly forbade her own daughter, Eleanora--a year Pellegrina's junior--to have anything to do with the base-born child of her hated rival.

Nevertheless, the sparkling, merry little girl became the pet of the Court--where she was always greeted as "_La Bella Bianchina_." and no one dreamed of throwing her father's evil career in her face. At the public marriage of the Grand Duke and the widowed Bianca Buonaventuri, Pellegrina was, of course, a prominent figure. She had grown tall and had inherited the charming traits of her sweet mother. She was fourteen years old, and eligible as the bride of any acceptable suitor. Her dowry was considerable; equal indeed to that of the Princess Eleanora; and the Grand Duke was no less solicitous than the Grand d.u.c.h.ess about the choice of a husband.

At first it was hoped that a young Florentine might be the successful lover, and indeed such an one appeared to have been secured, when young Pietro Strozzo--the son of Messer Camillo di Matteo negli Strozzi--one of Pellegrina's sponsors at her baptism--was judged worthy of the matrimonial prize. They were accordingly betrothed, but the inconstancy of Love was once more proved, for the young fellow was a wayward youth, and, although only seventeen, had fixed his affections elsewhere!

The match was broken off, but within a year of Pietro's renunciation another aspirant for Pellegrina's hand and dowry appeared in the person of a distinguished young foreigner--Conte Ulisse Bentivoglio de' Magioli da Bologna. He was reputed to be the natural son of Signore Alessandro d'Ercole Bentivoglio, and had been adopted by his maternal uncle, Conte Giorgio de' Magioli. His mother's name was Isotta--a beautiful girl at the Court of the Lords of Bologna, who had romantic relations with both Signore Alessandro and Conte Giorgio. Which of the two was Conte Ulisse's father mattered far less, from a matrimonial point of view, than the fact that the prospective bridegroom was unusually wealthy and well-placed.

Conte Ulisse, twenty years of age, went to Florence along with the Bologna deputation to greet Grand Duke Francesco upon his marriage with Bianca Buonaventuri. Then it was that he first saw Pellegrina, and was accepted as her betrothed husband. He remained in Florence a considerable time, and took a leading part in the splendid festivities and the notable _giostre_, wherein he was hailed as a champion in the "Lists."

The marriage was celebrated three months after the Grand Ducal wedding, and, amid the tears of her mother, Pellegrina departed with her husband for Bologna. Everything went well for a time with the youthful Count and Countess. Grand d.u.c.h.ess Bianca paid them several visits, and Countess Pellegrina spent much time in Florence. For example, she took part in the marriage ceremonies of Virginia de' Medici, unhappy Signora Cammilla's child, in 1586, with Don Cesare d'Este. The year after her coronation the Grand d.u.c.h.ess went in state to Bologna, to a.s.sist at the accouchement of her daughter. A little son made his appearance, and as though to fix the real parentage of the Count, he was baptised Giorgio.

Two more sons came to seal the happiness of the young couple--Alessandro and Francesco--and two daughters--Bianca and Vittoria--and then the happy relations between the Count and Countess underwent a change, and her husband's love ceased to peep into Pellegrina's heart. The Count was much occupied with military matters, like most young n.o.bles of his age; he also undertook diplomatic duties, and was sent, in 1585, as the special amba.s.sador of Bologna, to congratulate Pope Sixtus V. upon his elevation to the Pontifical throne.

At the Roman Court he met Don Piero de' Medici--the Florentine envoy--and, through him, got into evil company. He returned to Bologna unsettled in his feelings, and looking for excitement and illicit intercourse. His pa.s.sion for Pellegrina was pa.s.sing away, and he sought not her couch but the company of a lovely girl of Bologna who had fascinated him.

By degrees his love for his sweet wife grew cold, and at length he had the effrontery to establish his _innamorata_ in his own mansion.

Pellegrina protested in vain, but the more she admonished her husband the more flagrant became the _liaison_. Cast off and even spurned in her own house, the poor young Countess longed for her dear, dead mother's presence. She had now no one to counsel and comfort her. Left pretty much to herself, she yearned for companionship and love. She was only twenty-four, and still as attractive as could be.

What she sought came at last, when young Antonio Riari took up his residence at Bologna as a student-in-law. He was the great-grandnephew of the infamous creature of reprobate Pope Sixtus IV.--Count Girolamo de' Riari--of the Pazzi Conspiracy a hundred years before. Good-looking, gay, amorous, and blessed with robust health and ample means, the young man was the lover of every pretty girl.

Attracted mutually to one another, the Countess Pellegrina yielded herself to her admirer's embraces--although Antonio was a mere lad of seventeen. The intimacy grew until news of it reached Count Ulisse's ears in the boudoir of his sweetheart! The gossip doubtless was garnished to the taste of the retailers and of the receiver.

The Count turned upon his wife--as he might have been expected to do, seeing that he had habitually been unfaithful, and taxed her with unfaithfulness! Innocently enough, Pellegrina told him exactly how matters stood, craved his forgiveness, and begged for the rest.i.tution of marital rights. Conscious of his own turpitude and irregularity of life, he met her protestations with scorn, and, seeing in the episode an opportunity of legalising his illicit l.u.s.ts, he denounced her publicly and set spies to report her conduct.

These mercenaries, knowing the mind of their master, did not hesitate to translate his words into deeds; and very soon they were able to realise their dastardly purpose. Although the Countess had warned young Riario of the danger which menaced them both, and was, for a time, more circ.u.mspect in her intercourse with her lover, the fascination of mutual pa.s.sion overbore the dictates of prudence.

Like a "bolt from the blue" fell the blow--or blows--which, if not delivered by Count Ulisse in person, were his _de jure_. Two paid a.s.sa.s.sins chanced upon the loving couple one day, clasped in each other's arms, in a summer-house in a remote part of the Bentivoglio gardens!

Swift and certain was the aim! Pellegrina and Antonio were discovered, late at night, each stabbed through the back, and strangled with cords--dead--with eyes of horror gazing wildly at the pale moon! No shrift had they, but bitter tears were shed by tender sympathisers, and accusing fingers were pointed at the Count.

What cared he! He merely shrugged his shoulders and sardonically hinted that as he had brought his wife from Florence--from Florence, too, had he learned how to take personal vengeance upon a faithless spouse and her accomplice! The dark deed was done on 21st September 1589, and Count Ulisse lived on with his evil conscience and his new wife till 1618, when he, too, fell in Bologna by an a.s.sa.s.sin's blade--just retribution for the foul murder of lovely Pellegrina Buonaventuri.

CHAPTER VI

ELEANORA DEGLI ALBIZZI

SFORZA ALMENI

CAMMILLA DE' MARTELLI

_Pathetic Victims of Fateful Pa.s.sion_

"_Di fare il piacere di Cosimo_"--To serve for Cosimo's pleasure! In such words, an immoral father condemned his lovely daughter to feed the unholy l.u.s.t of the "Tyrant of Florence"--Moloch was never better served.