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.
VILLEGGIATURA.
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.