The Duchess Giovanna and her sorrows.—An heir is born.—Bianca in the shade.—The "Orti Oricellari."—Bianca entertains the Court there.—A summer night's amusement in 1577.—The death of Giovanna.

The conduct of the Grand Duke in neglecting his wife, a daughter of the proud house of Austria, while he abandoned himself to the seductions of a comparatively low–born adventuress, had not failed to expose him to urgent and very disagreeable remonstrances from the family of the Duchess. At the death of her brother Maximilian, negotiations were pending between the Imperial Court and that of Tuscany on two subjects. The first had reference to the full execution of the Imperial diplomas and decrees, which had conferred on the Grand Duke precedence over the other princes of Italy. This had never been admitted by them, especially by the house of Este. And Francesco ceased not to clamour for the due recognition of his rank. The other matter concerned the position of the Grand Duchess Giovanna. Rodolph, Maximilian's successor in the Empire, was anxious to remain on good terms with Francesco. And one of his first cares was to send an ambassador to Florence for the purpose of arranging these matters amicably.

The grounds of complaint against the Grand Duke on the part of Giovanna were sufficiently well founded. But she seems to have brought forward one accusation, from which her husband was able to defend himself satisfactorily. She complained that the pecuniary means allowed her were most insufficient; and that the mortifications to which she was thus exposed, were embittered by the lavish expenditure permitted to the vile woman for whose sake her husband neglected her. Now the truth was, that Giovanna was herself inordinately extravagant. It was easy for her to show that she had been driven to pledge her jewels and other valuables by need of money. But the Imperial lady did not seem to be aware that any limits ought to be placed to her power of disbursing. Living, as she did, wholly in a little court of her own Germans, her principal pleasure seems to have consisted in enriching them. And Francesco was able to show the Imperial ambassadors that if Giovanna was in debt, it was because she had spent more than the abundant income allowed her. As usual in all disputes, the Grand Duchess, by being wrong in this one point, made it the more difficult for her friends to insist upon right being done her in regard to those other matters, concerning which her complaints were clearly just.

However, a certain amount of reconciliation was brought about between her and Francesco; and what contributed far more than the exhortations of the Imperial Court, to make it for the moment genuine, was the birth of a son in 1577. This event was to the Grand Duke a subject of infinite rejoicing, and to Bianca a proportionably great humiliation. She found herself obliged to withdraw into perfect retirement, and even to leave Florence for awhile. The immense difference in her position, which was felt by herself and all Florence to result from the birth of this legitimate heir to the Duchy, is a measure of the importance of the fraudulent introduction of Don Antonio, and of the probability felt by all parties that means would have been found to secure for him the succession to the throne.

Philip II. of Spain graciously acceded to the Grand Duke's request that he would be godfather to Giovanna's child; and it was accordingly named after him.

During the first flush of the Grand Duke's triumph and rejoicing at the birth of his son, Bianca remained prudently in perfect retirement; and Giovanna flattered herself that she should at last hold the place in her husband's affections and in his court which were her due. But the hold that Bianca had established on Francesco's mind was too strong for him to be able to free himself from it. The need of her had become habitual to him, as is ever the case in associations between a weak character and a strong one. The illusions of poor Giovanna lasted but a very short time. Even the interest attaching to her boy, important as he was to the fortunes of the house of Medici, could not avail to prevent Bianca's re–appearance on the scene.

She returned to Florence, and soon found means of showing, by the accumulated marks of the Grand Duke's munificence towards her and her son, that the Florentines were mistaken if they had imagined that her reign was over.

One of the most notable, and it may be said, one of the most scandalous, manifestations of this renewed favour, was the gift of a palace and gardens in Florence, which had already acquired an historical celebrity of a widely different kind from that which was now to be added to it as the scene of many of Bianca's more or less disreputable orgies.

The property in question has since that time passed through several hands, and the traveller who has visited Florence will be most likely to remember it by the name of its last proprietor, as the Palazzo Strozzi. He will probably not have forgotten the large gardens which stretch behind it, and which through all changes have kept their original name, being still known as the "Orti Oricellari." These gardens, with the dwelling attached to them, were in the latter years of the fifteenth century the property of Giorgio Rucellai, the celebrated philosopher and historian. The house was then a "casino," belonging to the gardens, instead of being, as it now is, a palace, to which they are an appendage. And the writers of the time, who have frequently spoken of them, call them a "selva;" so that we must picture the place to our imaginations as very different from the trim garden which we now see.

It was to this spot that Lorenzo the Magnificent's Platonic Academy moved its sittings at his death in 1492. It was there that the brothers Palla and Giovanni Rucellai, sons of Giorgio, received Leo X.[174] when he came to Florence in 1515, and performed before him Giovanni's tragedy of "Rosmunda," composed in imitation of the Hecuba of Euripides,—one of the first, if not perhaps the first, tragic representation in Italy. It was there, too, that as times grew worse in Florence, and the minds of good citizens had to occupy themselves with matters more grave than Platonic philosophy and tragedies in imitation of Euripides, Macchiavelli read those discourses on the first Decade of Livy, which were so well calculated to rouse a spirit of patriotism, with which the author himself seems to have sympathised so imperfectly. It was there, also, that these readings bore their fruit in that unsuccessful conspiracy against the Cardinal Giulio, afterwards Clement VII., for which Jacopo da Diaceto lost his head; and in consequence of which the Academy was extinguished, and its members dispersed. In these gardens, also, Macchiavelli laid the scene of his dialogue on the Art of War. He describes the thickness and vast height of the trees,[175] several of which were of kinds unknown to Fabrizio Colonna, who is one of the interlocutors in the dialogue. He commemorates the extraordinary freshness of the herbage, the retired tranquillity and sylvan beauty of the spot, enclosed as it was within the buildings of a walled city; and speaks of this style of culture, contrasted with that which we call Italian gardening, as the ancient manner of cultivation.

And now this pleasant place, which was on so many accounts classical ground to the Florentines, was made the harbour of the very different sort of "Academy" which Bianca assembled around her, and the principal scene of their fooleries—to use a charitable term.

The details of one such night's amusement have been preserved by the contemporary novelist, Celio Malespini,[176] who is well known to have drawn all his materials from real history, and whose book may be accepted as a perfectly accurate and trustworthy picture of the manners of the time. Bianca's brother, Vittorio Cappello, was expected to arrive in Florence with other Venetian gentlemen, and the diversion in question was prepared for their especial delectation. The Grand Duke, however, appears to have taken his full share in the performances.

There was at that time, we are told, a necromancer at Florence, who was one of the most powerful performers in his profession. The garden had been placed by Bianca at his disposition, and the sovereign and court were invited by her to disport themselves as follows.

"When the hour was come, the Grand Duke and his companions repaired to the garden and walked in the shade, waiting till the necromancer should have completed his preparations. At last he came forth clad in a most extraordinary manner, but quite in keeping with his character. On his head was a mitre covered with pentagons and all sorts of extravagant figures, so that he appeared a veritable new Zoroaster. With slow and stately steps he advanced to a spot prepared for the purpose, and there drew a circle on the sward with a knife. This circle corresponded in size with a cavity which had previously been prepared beneath the surface of the soil; and around he drew with the knife a quantity of mystic signs, which, however, nobody saw, inasmuch as the place was all covered with herbage. But this was done," says the shrewd Malespini, merely for appearance sake,—'per dare colore all'arrosto.' "This done, he fenced the circle around with a piece of a ship's cable, leaving a narrow entrance, at which was placed a moderate sized bell. On the right hand were two large brasiers filled with burning coals; and on the left a filbert wand, and a vase full of drugs for fumigations. When all this was arranged, he brought the Grand Duke and the rest within the circle, imposing on them silence with solemn gestures; and then requested that one among them would stand forward and assist him in doing what was needed, assuring them, very seriously, that no harm should happen to him."

"At this Signor Sansonetto d'Avernia at once stepped forward and offered himself. The necromancer made him take off his shoes, and caused all the others to lay aside their arms. He then placed Sansonetto between the two brasiers, with the knife in one hand, which had been previously used for the formation of the circle, and in his other the filbert rod, which he directed him to hold stretched forth threateningly, while he stood erect and drawn up to his full height. Now Sansonetto was a very tall man, and extremely corpulent withal, with a very red face, like another Bacchus. So that the Grand Duke, seeing him standing there barefoot, with the knife raised in the air, and the brasiers on either side of him, could not forbear laughing, in which the necromancer had much ado not to join."

"When due gravity had been restored, the Grand Duke was placed in the centre, on a black velvet cushion, and all the others around the circle. All having taken their seats, the necromancer turning to the east, uttered a very loud whistle, and repeated the same towards the north, the south, and the west. It was now an hour and a half after sunset, and quite dark, so that the scene was visible only by the lurid light of the brasiers, which much favoured the effect intended to be produced. The wizard then took the bell, and ringing it loud and long, cried, 'Come hither! come hither! all spirits who owe me obedience!' And turning to the north he called 'Bardicul! Stuflogor! Solsibec! Graffaril! Tarmidar! Zampir! and Borgamur!' And when he had called these ridiculous names, which were the first (says Malespini, who seems rather an esprit fort) that came into his mouth, he turned to Sansonetto, and bade him throw the drugs on the braziers. These drugs were compounded of assafoetida, pitch, sulphur, and other stinking and abominable ingredients, and the wizard's intention was, that a small portion only should be thrown on the coals. But poor Sansonetto, in his zeal, threw such a quantity into the braziers, and raised so dreadful and foetid a smoke, that all had to hold their noses, and it was almost impossible to endure it. The dreadful stench filled all the garden, and reached the nostrils of the lady Bianca, who, with some of her most intimate friends, was placed so that they could see all the sport without being seen. The necromancer perceiving, therefore, that Sansonetto had overdone the thing, and that the Grand Duke could hardly bear the stench and the smoke, judged it best to hasten to the catastrophe of his performance, instead of prolonging it by various other ceremonies, as he had intended. So he gave a concerted sign by thrice clapping his hands; whereupon the devils (concealed beneath the apparently unmoved surface of the soil) began to make such noises and thunderings, that one might have thought the end of the world was at hand, and the infernal regions opening beneath their feet. Dreadful cries and lamentations, strange howlings, gnashing of teeth, clanking of chains, sighs and groans, were heard; and innumerable flames of fire burst forth from holes made in the earth, so that the grass was burned by them. In truth, to anybody not in the secret, the scene must have been," thinks Malespini, "shocking and terrible in no small degree."

"And, indeed, when the party heard all this horrible tumult, many, I promise you, were frightened enough, and thought no more of the stinking smoke in their alarm. Then the necromancer thought it time to bring about his catastrophe. Stamping with his foot therefore, he gave the sign agreed on for the letting go the chains that supported over the pit beneath the platform with the soil and grass on which they were all sitting. The brasiers and the knife were dexterously removed outside the circle by the necromancer. But the whole of the party were precipitated pell–mell one over the other into the pit; much of the earth and sods which had been ranged on the platform falling on the top of them. If the previous circumstances had frightened them, let anybody judge," says our chronicler, "how much more they were terrified now, finding themselves all precipitated, with the Grand Duke in the midst, into the bowels of the earth. In short there was not one of them, as they afterwards confessed, who did not firmly believe that they had looked their last on the light of the sun."

"No sooner had they fallen thus into the pit, than the devils were upon them, making noises more horrible than before, and looking fearfully hideous in the lurid light of the flames that continually blazed forth. So that in truth the poor fellows were beside themselves with terror, and hardly knew if they were alive or dead."

"When they were thus in an agony of alarm and distress, there suddenly appeared a number of beautiful girls, who in some degree mitigated the stink of the smoke by delicious odours that they brought with them. Taking the Grand Duke and the others by the hand, they led them out of the horrible pit, comforting them," writes Malespini, "with amorous gestures and pleasing manners, and conducted them to the arcades that were in the garden. There they were restored by the exquisite odour which proceeded from a large golden lamp, that cast a soft light over all the arcade. And while they were admiring these beauties, who were," as the author somewhat contradictorily writes, "all naked, with gold brocaded mantles magnificently adorned with precious stones, the music of various instruments was heard, and angelic and divine voices carolled forth the words of certain hymns appropriate to the matter in hand. So that it really appeared to all present, that the whole hierarchy of paradise was there assembled. When the Grand Duke and his companions looked about them and saw a magnificently arranged banquet, with beautiful fruits of every kind, they could not but think themselves in the Elysian fields. Then the nymphs with infinite grace and charm of manner pressed them to rest and repose themselves; and the Grand Duke pretended (observe), to recover himself and collect his senses after so great an astonishment; and said to his companions, the Count Santafiora, the two Strozzi, and Altoviti, 'Let the meaning of all this be what it may, I think, for my part, that all these good things are not to be despised, and still less so these charming and amiable ladies.'"

"As for the others of the party, they had remained in the pit half dead, lying there insensible, till they were carried to beds prepared for the purpose, where they were properly attended by medical men provided for that end."

"As soon as the Grand Duke had spoken as above, a voice was heard to sing an ode," duly recorded by Malespini, but which the reader may be spared, in which the flattery of his highness is piled as only Italian hyperbole can pile it. "Meantime, the beautiful and elegant girls," says the writer, "among whom was one of exceeding loveliness, named Milla Capraia, did not cease to caress those noble knights; till suddenly another strophe was heard beginning 'Depart, oh noble heroes!' &c., and so the diversion came to a conclusion."

Such, considerably abridged, is the account of Bianca's mode of entertaining her guests among the classic shades where Lorenzo's Platonists had speculated, and Macchiavelli had stirred the patriotism of the last free sons of Florence.

It is perhaps worth remarking, that the words to which the readers attention was called,—"the Grand Duke pretended to recover himself"—seem to show, that he was in the secret of the performances all the time; and that the zest of the joke consisted in frightening the silly courtiers out of their wits, while their magnanimous sovereign should enjoy their discomfiture, himself seeming to be superior to all such terrors; and should be worshipped as a hero on the strength thereof by Miss Milla Capraia, who was to seem to put perfect faith in his heroism.

But while Bianca and the Grand Duke and the court were thus amusing themselves, a very different scene was passing in that corner of the huge pile of the Pitti palace, which contained the private apartments of the Duchess. At first the birth of her son had been a matter of immense rejoicing and triumph to the unhappy woman. The consequent retirement of Bianca had been a precious balm to her long mortified pride; and she had flattered herself that at last brighter days were before her, and that the mother of the heir to his crown would at least be held of some account in her husband's court, if not in his heart.

But gradually all these hopes failed her. Not only did the odious rival return, as we have seen, and recover all her previous ascendancy, but the arrival of her brother Vittorio, and the marked favour immediately shown to him by the Grand Duke, who received him as he might have done a visitor of princely rank, seemed to prove, that there was no hope of her being able to struggle against Francesco's infatuated affection for his mistress. The unhappy princess was expecting to be again confined in the spring of 1578, when these sorrows threw her back into the melancholy from which she had been for a brief space roused by the short–lived reconciliation with her husband. And there is little doubt that they contributed[177] to produce the fatal result which put an end to her joyless life on the 11th of May, 1578.[178]

Giovanna was not endowed with the qualities calculated to make her popular with the people of her adopted country. The cold Austrian nature, the absence of all personal charm, the pride of a scion of the house of Austria, so different in its kind from the lighter boastful vaingloriousness of their own princes, the haughty reserve and stiff ceremonial manners of the daughter of the line of Hapsburg, were uncongenial and disagreeable to the Florentines. A breaking heart, moreover, whose sorrows had to be hidden under a veil of courtly etiquette, was not calculated to improve these deficiencies. Notwithstanding all this, however, the too manifest unhappiness of her life, her dignified bearing under her misfortunes, the propriety of her conduct under strong temptation to act otherwise, all conciliated to her the sympathy and respect, if not the love, of all classes of the people.

It was known that on her death–bed she had repeatedly[179] implored the Grand Duke, for his honour and conscience' sake, to separate himself from the woman who had rendered her life so miserable, declaring at the same time that she freely pardoned her for all the ill she had suffered at her hands. And these circumstances, combined with the intense hatred which all Florence nourished for her unworthy rival, "the witch" Bianca, caused her death to be sincerely mourned by the entire city. And almost every writer of the period has a word of sympathy and pity for this one among the many victims of Medicean cruelty and crime.