The Tragedies of the Medici Part 22

Writing to the Grand Duke, on 7th August 1574, soon after Cammilla's reception, the Very Reverend Abbess of Santa Monica humbly thanked his Serene Highness "for the generous treatment of the young widow, and begs remembrance of his good offices for her and for the convent generally."

Trustees were appointed, under the presidency of Messer Roberto de'

Adimari, the Chancellor of the Monte de' Pieta, for the administration of the one hundred and four thousand gold florins--the fortune left by Duke Cosimo to the Lady Cammilla, which produced an annual income of four thousand eight hundred gold florins a year, equal to about 2000.

Cammilla settled down as best she could to a life of leisured ease--a lonesome woman, a prisoner under close observation. News of the outside world she had, and when the report of the horrors of the year 1576 reached her, she was prostrated with grief. Indeed, her time seems to have been spent with repining, weeping and sickness--a piteous existence for a young woman of twenty-seven.

At length Cammilla braced herself to bear her disappointments, her trials, her imprisonment, with fort.i.tude, and, like the good woman she really was, she set to work to occupy her time, and that of her suite, in useful and interesting occupations. Gardening and the care of flowers attracted her, and soon the cloisters of the convent were converted into bowers of roses and myrtles.

Her ladies and the nuns also, she encouraged in all elegant handicrafts--silk-embroidery, lace-making, and other st.i.tchery. The results of their industry procured immediate custom, and the n.o.ble cloths and l.u.s.trous silks of Santa Monica, with the Lady Cammilla's initials attached, became famous far and near. These objects consisted of pillow-cases, screens, portieres, decorative panels, banners, scarves, cus.h.i.+ons, handkerchiefs, bodices and various other details of feminine attire, with rich vestments for the clergy, and sumptuous altar-cloths.

The Grand d.u.c.h.ess Bianca, who, with characteristic sweetness and generosity, had all along sympathised with poor Lady Cammilla, was the best customer of the convent industries, and, moreover, she frequently visited the gentle prisoner, and showed her many charming attentions.

For two Medici brides, also, Cammilla superintended the preparation of trousseaux--her own daughter Virginia, Duke Cosimo's child, and the Grand Duke's eldest daughter, Maria, who married King Henry IV. of France.

Another sort of employment found in the Lady Cammilla an earnest and skilful directress, namely, the manufacture of sweetmeats, preserves, compotes, pastries, and every sort of delectable confectionery. Perfumes and liqueurs--usually the piquant produce of monasteries--were also cunningly extracted by Cammilla's subtle formulas. These elegant specialities she gave away to old friends and visitors--enclosed in delicate little gla.s.s and porcelain bottles and jars of her own design.

The fame of the Lady Cammilla's skill and patronage reached foreign courts, and notable visitors to Florence did not fail to pay their courtesies to the great lady of the convent. Two of these, the Archpriest Monsignore Simone Fortuna, confessor of the Duke of Urbino, and Cavaliere Ercole Cortile, the amba.s.sador of Ferrara, have recorded their visits and their pleasure at seeing "La Serena Signora" in genial company and philanthropically employed. The wily priest added, with sanctimonious admiration for female beauty: "La Martelli is as fascinating as ever!"

Still, liberty is liberty, and captivity--even when made as attractive and as unoppressive as possible--is still captivity. The Lady Cammilla never left the confines of her convent for twelve long years, and not till 4th February 1586 was she allowed a _conge_. Then a sumptuous cavalcade, with splendid sedan-chairs, halted at the main portal of Santa Monica, and out of one stepped the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Bianca, in gorgeous State robes. She had come to escort in person the Lady Cammilla, with every mark of respect and honour, to the marriage of her daughter, Virginia de' Medici!

The young girl was just eighteen, pa.s.sably old for a sixteenth-century n.o.ble bride! In 1575, she had been a.s.signed as the consort in prospect of Cavaliere Mario Sforza, General of the army of the Grand Duke Francesco. The match, however, was broken off, when Cardinal Alessandro Sforza died, and left an immense fortune, but not to his nephew Mario, as had been expected; and so Mario proved to be too poor a suitor for the girl's hand.

Mario, on his side, had cooled much in his ardour for Virginia. Reports of the Cardinal de' Medici's--Ferdinando's--familiarities, not only with the mother, but with the daughter also, were rife in Florence and in Rome. Sufficient grounds there were for him to accept the cancellation of the proposal with equanimity. The Marchese, for so he had been created, was not a whit more virtuous than the men of his day, but the sensuous are always the harshest judges of their kind!

No, Virginia was, after all, married to Don Cesare d'Este, Duke of Modena. She had by the way, been promised, in 1581, to Francesco Sforza di Santa Fiora, but he changed his mind and renounced the world--conventionally of course--to accept the Cardinal's red hat and privileges from the hands of Pope Gregory XIII. So constantly were natural human instincts dulled by the contrariety of fas.h.i.+on in those degenerate days!

Of Virginia's marriage Torquato Ta.s.so, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Bianca's enamoured poet-laureate, sang:

"Cio che morte rallenta Amore restringa!"

Virginia died in 1615--some said she was poisoned by her husband--the last of a degraded race. _Sic transit gloria Medici!_

The ceremonial of the nuptials was as splendid as a sumptuous Court could make it, and as became the union of a princess of the House of Medici with an ambitious foreign Sovereign. But whilst men and women gossiped delightedly about the charms of the beauteous young bride and the gallant bearing of the groom, every tongue expressed wonderment at the gracious, stately figure of the Lady Cammilla. The chorus of popular applause was hushed, however, when the pathos of her story struck sorrowful chords in every heart.

Upon the obverse of the medals struck for the Duke Cosimo for their wedding, twelve years before, the Signora is represented as a finely-developed woman, with the proud profile of a true daughter of Florence, a high brow, a shapely nose, full cheeks, and a dimpled chin.

Her attire is rich, she wears costly jewels, and her hair is tastefully coiffured.

What Cammilla's feelings were, she only knew, and she told them to no one; she bore herself loftily, and made no one her confidante. After the solemnity and festivities she betook herself once more--she had no other choice--to her convent prison, the poorer for the loss of her cherished child, the richer in the estimation of all good people.

Henceforth, her inclusion among the Religious was to be more rigorous, and she never expected to be seen again in Florence: dolorous indeed must have been that parting with the world she loved, but so little knew. She viewed the coming years with apprehension and hopelessness.

She had not reached the measure of her destiny, but for that, mercifully, she had not very long to wait, and yet there was to be another slight rift in the clouds of misery.

From time to time Cammilla had suffered from fainting fits and attacks of hysteria, but after her separation from Virginia, these increased greatly in frequency and intensity. Skilful medical treatment was of no avail, and at length her doctors appealed to the Grand Duke for some relaxation of her imprisonment. Freedom from restraint and the benefit of urgently needed change, they knew, would work wonders in the way of recovery.

Don Francesco was immovable to all such representations; he had over and over again declined to reverse or modify his decision. His fully justified fear of the Cardinal's intrigues acted as a negative magnet to all his best propositions. He and she were bound together, he felt sure, in schemes for his own undoing, and Bianca's too.

The Lady Cammilla's life became at last intolerable; sickness, suspicion, and discontent fastened their dire influences upon her. She neglected useful and ornamental pastimes, became morose and impatient, and gave way to fits of frenzied desperation. The Abbess, greatly alarmed, took counsel with her spiritual advisers, who judged that the unhappy lady was losing her reason, and, perchance, her soul. Her condition became so critical that in April 1587 the Tuscan amba.s.sador in Rome applied to the Pope for permission for the chaplain of the convent to celebrate a Ma.s.s for the exorcism of the poor lady!

In October of that year the fell schemes of Cardinal Ferdinando had, at last, their fruition, and the Grand Duke and Grand d.u.c.h.ess died together at Poggio a Caiano, victims of his jealousy and hate. He obtained at last what he had striven for so unscrupulously for twenty years--the succession to the Tuscan throne.

Be it, however, in justice told, with respect to the Lady Cammilla, for, when he had spurned the dead body of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, and hypocritically sad, had followed the remains of his poisoned brother to San Lorenzo, he went right off to the convent of Santa Monica, and acquainted her personally with the fact of delivery from a living tomb.

They had only met very occasionally during the last few years, and she had changed greatly--perhaps he had, too. Her terrible trials, her bodily sicknesses, and her mental derangements had made ineffaceable marks in the erstwhile beauteous girl, and Cammilla de' Medici was no longer possible as the wife of the renegade Cardinal. Marriage was out of the question for her; indeed, her very existence was at stake, and all that Ferdinando could do was to alleviate the sufferings of his _innamorata_, and to cheer her declining days.

Many years before, Ferdinando had purchased a piece of ground at the confluence of the Arno and Pesa, and, upon it, he built the Villa Ambrogiana, which he furnished in lavish style, boasting that "it will be handy when I come into my own!" This estate, with a sufficient household, he made over to the Lady Cammilla, for her own free use.

Before, however, she took up her residence, Ferdinando, now, of course, Grand Duke of Tuscany, placed at her disposal a country villa in the Val d'Ema, to which the suffering Signora was taken, in the hope that the fresh air and pleasant outlook would a.s.sist the recovery of her health and spirits.

She improved wonderfully in every way--the fact that she was again her own mistress and free to come and go at will, fortified her immensely, and she determined to devote the residue of her life to the interests of Ferdinando. Called upon, at his succession to the throne, to renounce his spiritual character--it was a character, indeed, which ill-fitted him--the new Grand Duke devoted himself to the duties of his high station. The Lady Cammilla, who had been his confidante in days gone by, was still retained as counseller and guide. Marriage was the most urgent necessity of the Grand Duke for the procreation of legitimate heirs.

He was surrounded by heirs-presumptive and aspirants to the throne--Don Antonio, his brother's adopted son; Don Giovanni, his father's legitimatised son by Eleanora degli Albizzi; his brother Piero, and any one of his b.a.s.t.a.r.d sons, and several other scions of the house. The Lady Cammilla entered heartily into all her stepson's ideas, and quickly, though doubtlessly regretfully, agreed with him that a brilliant foreign alliance was an absolute necessity.

Together they pa.s.sed in review the names of all the eligible princesses in Europe, and at last their choice fell upon Princess Christina, the young daughter of Charles, Duke of Lorraine, and nephew of Queen Caterina de' Medici. She was received in Florence with joy, and married to the Grand Duke in 1589. The Lady Cammilla graced the nuptials with her presence, laying aside the dark-hued garments of sorrow which she had a.s.sumed and worn so long.

That was the last time Cammilla was seen in public; she retired first to her villa on the Arno, and then, seeing that the symptoms of illness were returning, she voluntarily retired once more into what had been her prison and her home--the convent of Santa Monica, where she breathed her last on the 30th of May 1590, at the early age of forty-five, to the unutterable sorrow of the devoted ladies of her suite and her faithful attendants. In the _Libri de' Morti_ (1577-1591) we read under that date: "La Signora Cammilla d'il Serenissimo Gran Duca Cosimo de' Medici, despositata in San Lorenzo." Some say she died imbecile.

Upon the reverse of one medal, which Cosimo had struck in honour of their nuptials, was cut around the heraldic emblazonment of an oak tree and a dragon, her legend: "_Uno avulso non deficit alter aureus_." This may be the epitome of her life's history, and upon it one may moralise at will; and certainly readers of the "Tragedy of Cammilla de' Martelli"

will admit that a spoilt life is as great a catastrophe as a violent death.

It requires no great stretch of the imagination to picture the morals and the manners of society in Tuscany during the last half of the sixteenth century. The superabundance of private riches and the enervation of idle leisure destroyed the framework of domestic economy; "_Di fare il Signore_!"--to play the gentleman--was the current mode.

Everyone strove to surpa.s.s his neighbours in luxury and extravagance.

The example of the Court was felt in every grade of life: marital unfaithfulness, personal spleen, and family feuds divided every household. The worst of human pa.s.sions ran riot, and life became a pandemonium, wherein the sharp poignard, the poison phial, and the strangling rope, played their part at the dastardly will of their owners.

Fair Florence was still--as she will ever be--"The City of the Lily"; but the blue and silver emblematic _giglio_--the modestly unfolding fragrant iris of the unsophisticated countryside, drooped before the flaming, pa.s.sionate tiger-lily of the formal garden of debauchery, with its pungent odour and its secretive, incurled scarlet petals--splashed with the blacks and yellows of crime and greed!

"Nature ever Finding discordant fortune, like all seed Out of its proper climate, thrives but ill: But were the world content to work, And work on the foundation Nature lays, It would not lack of excellence." ...

IL PARADISO, _Canto viii_.

A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY

_Anecdota Letteraria_. 4 vols. Florence. 1773.

Bocchi, F., _Le Bellezze della Citta di Firenze_. Florence. 1591.

Corsini, B., _Lorenzino de' Medici_. Florence. 1890.

Cronacci, F., _Lorenzo de' Medici_. Florence. 1760.

Dumas, A., _Une Annee a Florence_. 2 vols. Paris. 1841.

Dumas, A., _Les Galeries de Florence_. Paris. 1842.

Fabroni, A., _Vie de Laurent de Medicis_. Paris. 1791.