Bianca balances her accounts.—Dangers in her path.—A bold step—and its consequences.—Facilis descensus.—A proud father.—Bianca's witchcraft.—The Cardinal is checkmated, for this game.

But whatever other effect the untimely deaths of these two unfortunate women may have produced, they had not that of removing the gloom from the brow of Francesco. Surely, indeed, if he is to be considered human, and in any degree sane, it may be thought, that such events must have contributed no little to increase the irritability of his temper, and the sudden melancholy, ever and anon bursting out into savageness. It is likely enough that Francesco's education at the Court of Spain, the obsequious casuistry of his own theologians, and the total absence from cradle to grave of any one wholesome moral influence, of any one ray of light to dissipate, however fitfully, the thick darkness of an ignorance of right and wrong far deeper, more dangerous, and more perverse than that of a savage;—it is possible enough, that all this may have enabled him to say to his own heart, when kneeling at the feet of his most favourite idol, that his act had not made him guilty within the limitations of God's statute law, and the intricate modifications of it made by subsequent legislation, in such and such acts of such and such a year of this or the other Pope's reign.

Still, assure himself of this as he might, and fortify the assurance by whatsoever most satisfactory "case," drawn up by the shrewdest sacerdotal pettifogger who ever discovered a flaw in heaven's eternal ordinances, it may be fancied that he did not sleep better of nights after that July, 1576, and that Bianca's position and task were not improved by what had happened.

Some thirty years or so ago, a Florentine publisher, happening to have become possessed of the house which once belonged to Bianca, in the Via Maggio, conceived the idea of pretending to have found concealed in a wall therein a MS. containing her autobiography. A prefatory notice stated, that unfortunately the chemical means used for restoring the faded characters to legibility had had the effect of entirely destroying them, so that the finder of these precious papers could not have the satisfaction he had hoped of showing them to persons interested in such matters! The forgery was an impudent and ridiculously ill–executed one. A very superficial knowledge of the language sufficed to convince any reader of the first two pages of the silly catch–penny trash, that the phraseology was of the nineteenth and not the sixteenth century, even had the tone of the narrative been at all assorted to the character of the supposed writer.

But what a treat would such a find be, were it genuine! What a psychological treasure would be a peep into the real feelings of such a mind and heart! Did Bianca consider her career to be a triumphant one, successfully achieving the "excelsior" of her ideal by painful but victorious struggle with opposing fortune? Or did she look on herself as the victim of a chain of unfortunate circumstances, entangled in the meshes of a destiny, which drew her fatally on, and irresistibly wrapped its darkening clouds around her. Few recorded careers illustrate so exactly, regularly, and undeviatingly the lessons of the moralist as that of Bianca. No invented story of progress from bad to worse can better exemplify the law that compels evil to generate ever new evil.

Thus far, supposing her not to have been guilty of her husband's murder, her ill–doings have not been such as to put her beyond the pale of human sympathies. She fled from a home made unhappy by a negligent father and an unkind step–mother.[169] It was ill–done. Deceived by her husband as to his position in the world, finding herself a prisoner in a miserable cottage, where she was obliged to do the work of a servant (because the poverty of her husband's family was such, that when she was brought home to be fed and lodged, the drudge hitherto kept by them could be no longer fed or lodged),[170] she listened to the seduction of a prince, and left a husband, who was perfectly contented with the arrangement. This was worse; yet far from unpardonable.

But now a career of darker crime had to be entered on. Bianca was now the inmate of a court. Virtues and vices there are on a larger scale. "Major rerum nascitur ordo." The interests and passions of despotic princes are dangerous matters to meddle with, mostly leaving stains and scars on the hands and hearts of those concerned in ministering to them. Enough of both, one would think, must have fallen to Bianca's lot.

Let us see, then, if we can succeed in looking into her mind, as it must at this period have contemplated her position, taking stock of the gains and losses thus far realised.

"To exercise the most powerful influence in a splendid court; to receive daily homage, and something more solid than homage, from all who have favours to ask, justice to seek, or injustice to pay for; to dispense promotions, reward friends and crush enemies; all this is worth something. To be the courted patroness of the relatives who so loudly complained of my having disgraced them, to dispense my bounty to the father and brother who denounced me, and to be the means of sustaining and advancing the grandeur of the family whose daughter I am; all this is worth still more. To become, what, if fate do not play me false, I will become, and make the Ten themselves bow before the poor outlawed exile! Ay, that indeed would be more again. It is something, too, by the blaze of my beauty and the glitter of my magnificence, to thrust back that pale, proud Austrian woman into cold obscurity. She, indeed, to think of being a wife to Francesco! She to dream of taking in charge such a nature as his! She to attempt the task of comprehending, sympathising with, soothing, managing, ay, and mastering those surging passions, that wilful mind, and fitful heart! She! It is a part cast, methinks, for an actress of other powers than hers! But what if it should prove too difficult for my own? She, indeed, is at least secure in the frozen dignity of her place. She is the Grand Duchess, and needs to practise no such ruling of the storms to hold her safe position. But for me! To rule them, or to perish in them, is the only alternative. If I cease to rule but for a day, I fall, and am crushed into the dust! That is the condition on which I hold my place in Florence! And the Saints know how many waking nights and anxious days the holding of it thus far has cost me! And the task seems growing from day to day more arduous. The Duke's deepening melancholy and discontent at his childlessness is dangerous—very dangerous. May he not seek elsewhere for that which I have failed to give him! Francesco loves me;—I think he loves me;—that is, he has need of me. But should some more painfully felt need require that I should be sacrificed, trampled into dust, burned at the stake, torn limb from limb; my Francesco's love, methinks, would hardly save me. Had I but a child, could I but be the mother of a son to stand between him and the Cardinal, I should, I think, be safe!"

Somewhat to this tune, we may suppose, Bianca's ruminations must have often run during the early months of that fatal summer of 1576; till at length the urgency of the case, arising from the Duke's increasing gloom and discontent, determined her to adopt the dangerous expedient of counterfeiting the maternity which nature denied her.

From the earliest years of her connection with Francesco, it had been her earnest wish to present him with a son. And when, as time ran on, it began to appear unlikely that she should do so, she left none of the means untried, to which the gross ignorance and superstition of the time attributed the power of removing sterility. With this view, she had constantly about her a number of the vilest vagabonds, impostors, philtre–dealers, necromancers, poison–concoctors, spellmongers, and quack–doctors in Europe. In all probability she practised with love–philtres, to secure her ascendancy over the Duke. It may have been, also, that she had occasion to dabble in the secrets of the professors of the art of poisoning. But the grand object of her medico–witchcraft was to become a mother. And it is exceedingly likely, that some of the means used for this purpose may have actively contributed to defeat the end in view, and have done much to injure her health permanently, as we find hinted in the writings of the historians.[171]

The people, whom these schemes and pursuits had brought her into connection with, were well calculated to serve as agents in the fraud now contemplated. The first necessary step was to find a mother, who could be induced to agree to part with her infant, when it should be born. But as the great object of Bianca's ambition was to present the Duke with a son, it was necessary to provide, as far as possible, against uncertainty on this point. For this purpose three women were found, who expected their confinement, as nearly as could be calculated, at the same time; and who all consented for money to give up their child, in case it should prove to be a male. But it was further very necessary to the safety of all concerned in the business, that these women should be ignorant that a similar bargain had been made with others. Care had therefore to be taken that they should be located in different quarters of the city, and should have no means of corresponding with any one.

All these arrangements must evidently have required the co–operation of no inconsiderable number of agents. But it is probable that one or two of these only were allowed to know on whose behalf they were acting.

At length all these preparations were made, and the 29th of August, 1576, was fixed on among the confederates for the consummation of the plan. Bianca played her part accordingly to perfection. Of course her fictitious labour would have to endure, till the genuine labour of whichever of the three unfortunate mothers should first produce a son, should have come to an end. One only of the three had a male child; and this was immediately conveyed, in a mandoline, say the chronicles of the time, to Bianca's residence.

But it was yet further necessary, before the innocent object of all this roguery could be allowed to appear upon the scene, that Bianca should find the means of clearing her chamber of inconvenient witnesses. And this was not altogether easy. For the Grand Duke, whose rejoicing at the coming event had been excessive, insisted on being himself present at the birth; and it was impossible to get him out of the chamber. The only possibility of success lay in the chance of tiring him out. And Bianca did her best to render the witnessing of her pangs as disagreeable as possible. But Francesco's sensibilities were not to be worked on in this manner. Let Bianca play her part to the life, as she would, Francesco patiently awaited the result. The long hours of the night wore on. Morning was at hand. Bianca's lamentable groaning, kept up with admirable constancy in spite of no little fatigue from her night's performance, became tedious, if not heartrending to the princely watcher. He was very sleepy; the women, with grave shakings of the head, feared that the patient would have to suffer some hours yet; and at last his Highness, as morning was breaking, gave in, and went off to his bed; leaving however some trusted minister in his stead to await the happy moment, and give him the earliest intelligence thereof.

The game was now an easy one. Some message to the Duke, or other such commission was readily found to send away the deputy–watcher; and then in a few minutes all was in order for the reception of Francesco, who hurried from his bed to delight himself with the sight of the son he had so long and so earnestly wished for. All passed with the most perfect success. No shadow of a suspicion seems to have arisen in the Grand Ducal mind. He immediately recognised the child formally as his own; ordered that he should be considered a member of the House of Medici; and received the congratulations of the court and city, as if an heir to the throne had been legitimately born. The child was christened Antonio, because, according to the pious declaration of Bianca, it was to the intercession of St. Anthony that the favour of so great a blessing was due.[172]

But the ridiculous side of this ignoble farce lies in too close proximity to its tragic developments, to suffer that a smile should for more than a passing moment replace the horror and reprobation which are the standing moods of mind for the study of Medicean annals. Bianca's triumph was complete for the moment. But on how many chances might the continuance of it hang? How many of the most worthless beings had it in their power to hurl her, with a word, from the height of her success! Was she then never again to be free from perpetual terrors? Never to lose for an hour the consciousness, that a random word, if not an intentional and purchased betrayal, the repentance of a confederate, or a death–bed confession might at any time suffice to throw down the whole fabric built up with so much care, pain, and cost of guilt; nay, might bring on her the same swift and sudden vengeance which had overtaken the unhappy Isabella and Eleonora! Was there no mode of escaping from so hideous a thraldom?

Then again it was to be remembered that eyes and brains of a quality very difficult to be eluded or deceived would leave no means untried to ascertain the truth respecting this timely maternity after so many years of sterility. The Cardinal was hardly likely to attribute much efficacy to the intercession of St. Anthony. And who in Florence could at any time feel sure that they were not at that very moment under his special surveillance? Then again Don Pietro, equally injured and enraged with his brother Ferdinando at this suddenly produced Medici! his haunts and habits were such as to make it anything but unlikely that he might stumble on the traces of the deception that had been practised.

The Duchess, most nearly and cruelly injured of all! Pshaw! if she were all, there could be small cause for alarm.

Was there no way of escaping once and for ever from these haunting torments; escaping once for all from fears and from plots and conspiracies, and all underhand dealings and living honestly and uprightly thenceforward? The safety, the happiness of such a freedom, the possibility of carrying out such virtuous aspirations must be found.

Is there no way?

There is but one way, Bianca thinks, as she spends the hours of the pretended convalescence in no pleasing meditations on her position;—but one way.

"She must—she must;—she will—she will,
Spill much more blood; and become worse
To make her title good!"

The thought once admitted, delay in the execution of it only risked the possibility of doing the deed in vain. The greatest danger was to be apprehended of course from the three mothers; inasmuch, as the mere fact of the bargain made with them, joined to the exact date of their confinement, would have been sufficient to raise a presumption which it would have been easy to improve into certain proof of the real truth.

Two of these women therefore were put to death by disguised assassins; the third, having obtained some warning of her danger, escaped out of Tuscany.

But the chief manager of the whole plot had been a Bolognese woman, in whom Bianca placed implicit confidence. Still she could not feel safe as long as it was in any human being's power to betray her. This woman was therefore sent back to Bologna; or rather, the doomed creature was made to believe that such was her destination. But as she and her escort were crossing the Apennine, winding in single file along the deep–cut bridle paths that threaded the chesnut[typo for chestnut?] woods, a shot from behind a tree brought her to the ground. The assassins thought that their work was done more thoroughly than was the case. The wound indeed was mortal; but the unfortunate woman lived long enough to reach Bologna, and there, being juridically examined, she confessed at length the whole of the plot by which Bianca had foisted a supposititious child on the Grand Duke, together with all details of the execution of the fraud.

This confession, duly attested by the authorities at Bologna, was forwarded to the Cardinal Ferdinando at Rome, and his feelings on receiving it may easily be imagined. He must have thought that he had at last in his hand the means of crushing the hated Venetian woman, whose arts and spells had so enthralled his brother as to disgrace him throughout Europe, and by whose infamous practices it seemed but too probable that some base–born brat might be placed on the throne of Tuscany to his nefarious exclusion. What then was his indignation and disgust, when on hastening to lay before his brother the irrecusable proof, as he supposed, of his mistress's foul treason and falsehood, he found him obstinately determined neither to hear, see, nor give credence to anything on the subject! The power and credit of Bianca were greater than ever. A magnificent appanage was settled upon the child Antonio, whom the Duke persisted, in spite of all evidence upon the subject, in considering and treating as his son. He was called Don Antonio dei Medici; and Francesco appeared to lavish on the infant all a father's affection.

It must be admitted that there was wherewithal to embitter a milder–minded man than the Cardinal. All the calculating policy which had enabled his cautious nature to dissemble his disgusts for so many years, so far as to avoid an open rupture with his brother, could not prevent him now from speaking in a manner that for a time produced a total estrangement between him and the Grand Duke. Such deplorable blindness and imbecility as that manifested by Francesco, could only have been produced, it was said, by the use of infernal arts, and drugs of maleficent power. The belief in the efficacy of such agencies was general. It is therefore extremely probable, that the Cardinal himself may have supposed Francesco to have been bewitched in the literal sense of the word. That Bianca was credited with extensive powers of the kind by the popular opinion of Florence is certain. And it is equally clear, that she herself, whatever may have been her private opinion of her own proficiency in the art, believed in its existence and potency, was continually dabbling in the secrets of its professors, and would fain have been a witch, if she could have found out how to become one.

But the real witchery that Bianca had on this occasion practised on her lover was not suspected by the Cardinal; though, as it would seem from subsequent events, he must have become aware of it later. It was the common witchery of a strong and unscrupulous mind over a weak one, whose only force was the strength of the bad passions that stirred it. But the spell used to evoke the demon that should give her the victory in this perilous crisis of her fortunes was one of extraordinary daring. And it was strikingly characteristic of the woman, and curiously indicated how thoroughly she had studied the nature of the man she had to practise on, and how securely she reckoned on the aid of the evil spirit she had summoned from the dark depths of his own heart, in the form of his jealous hatred of his brothers, and of the thought that either of them should be his successor.

The bungling work of the bravo sent to make all safe by dispatching the woman on the Apennines on her way to Bologna, which had allowed her to reach that city alive, left small doubt on Bianca's mind, that the whole story of Antonio's birth would soon become known to those from whom it was most necessary that it should be kept secret.

The danger was a tremendous one. No philtres nor drug practice would serve the turn now. But a bold stroke of a more truly black art might do so. Now to raise a devil potent enough to make wrong triumphant over all right and truth! Bianca knew that such a devil was within call, and went bravely about the work.

Reminding Francesco skilfully of all that he had suffered from being childless, subtly painting the triumph and rejoicing of his brothers at this his bitter misfortune, and picturing to him as subtly the downfall of their hopes in consequence of the birth of Antonio, when she had made the idea of relinquishing this vantage ground sufficiently intolerable to his feelings, she audaciously[173] narrated to him the whole truth of her fictitious confinement, and Antonio's real birth. To have had recourse to such an expedient was too evidently the sole means of remedying the evil. To have deceived him in the matter was to save his dignity, his conscience, to take upon herself all the odium, the risk, the burthen, the sin,—if sin there were in securing the peace of mind and happiness of her sovereign and lord. What but devotion to him, his wishes and his interests, could have stimulated her to adopt, at her own peril, the only possible means of abating the insolent triumph of the disloyal brothers, who were rejoicing in his misfortunes!

The incantation worked well. The devil was evoked. Francesco could not endure the idea of returning to the state of jealous misery in which he had lived before Antonio's birth; above all could not endure the thought of admitting to his prudent preaching brother that he had been ignominiously and ridiculously cheated; that his loud triumph had been premature; that the Cardinal's warnings and denunciations of Bianca had all been wise and just; and that now he—the Cardinal—must again step back into the position of the childless brother's heir. No! all this was not to be thought of. Bianca was—not pardoned—but blessed, as his best friend and helpmate. And the Grand Duke was thenceforward an accomplice in the fraud of substituting a false heir.

Ferdinando, with his triumphant proofs in his hand, was met, as has been told, with well–assumed impenetrable incredulity. He found the Grand Duke busy arranging the purchase of a principality in the kingdom of Naples for two hundred thousand ducats, to be settled on his darling child. And the dexterous, diplomatic, able Cardinal, had to return to Rome baffled and checkmated by a woman.