CHAPTER XV.
MORE ABOUT THE CARDINAL.
Itri, the birthplace of the notorious Fra Diavolo, is a regularrobber's-nest, picturesquely placed on the side of a lofty hill, andcrested by a ruined castle.
In Ippolito de' Medici's time the castle was not ruined; and there wasalso a monastery, where he and his attendants were suitably entertained.
On the afternoon of the 2nd of August, after a meal which we should callluncheon, but which the early habits of those days distinguished asdinner,--succeeded by a moderate siesta,--the court-yard was all alivewith preparations for a gallant riding-party, in the full heat and glareof the day. Groups of cowled and bare-headed monks stood curiouslyabout, admiring the Cardinal's beautiful mare; and groups, too, ofrobber-like, shaggy-looking men, and bright-eyed women and girls withgolden bodkins in their hair, hung about the gates and passed theircomments on the cortege. The Cardinal came forth, talking to the Prior,whose pale, attenuated face and hollow eyes formed a notable contrast tothe vivid colouring of his own healthy, well-fed countenance. He waswithin an ace of losing his good looks from too much eating anddrinking. In dress, the Cardinal was superb, with a touch of the churchmilitant. A smile was on his lip as he patted his mare and examined hertrappings, saying,
"She will not serve me that sorry trick again, I hope."
"Fear not, my Lord Cardinal," said his groom; and he threw himself intothe saddle. The Florentines also mounted their horses.
At this moment, Piero Strozzi stepped forward, saying, "This, from myfather," with a meaning smile; and gave him a billet.
This Piero was son of Felippo, and had something of the same cold, slylook.
The billet only contained these words: "All goes well." The Cardinalread it with a gay smile, and tossed it back to Strozzi.
"Good news to start with," said he to his companions, as they rode outof the yard.
"The sun can scarce be hotter in Africa than it is here to-day, Ithink," said Donati, one of the _fuorusciti_.
"Not a whit too hot for me; I enjoy it," said the Cardinal. "And theroad is in our favour, for it is all down-hill."
"_Facile descensus_," said Capponi. "What a vibrating haze!"
"We shall enjoy the shade and the coolness at Fondi," said Ippolito."You know I have undertaken to show you the fairest lady in Italy."
"And I maintain, beforehand, that she cannot be so fair as theMarchesana del Vasto," said Donati.
"Allowing for difference of years, you mean," said Capponi. "The Duchessis a little past her prime."
"No such thing," said Ippolito quickly; and he used the spur, thoughthere was no need. The mare sprang forward; the others were obliged toquicken their pace, and they had ridden a mile or two before anotherword was spoken.
Then the Cardinal slackened his speed, and began to talk of mattersquite different; of the brilliant African campaign; of the likelihood ofMuley Hassan holding his own, now he was reinstated; of the probablemovements of Barbarossa; of the glut of Moorish slaves in the market,and so forth.
Arrived at Fondi, the Cardinal was preparing to alight, when theDuchess's grey-haired seneschal came forward and announced themortifying intelligence that his lady was from home.
It may be matter of surprise that the Cardinal should not have beenapprised of her absence at Itri; but, in fact, he had learnt from whathe had considered good authority, that she was to return to Fondi alittle before this time, so that he had made sure of finding her at hercastle.
His chagrin was extreme; not only because he had counted much on thisvisit, and had now no hope of seeing her before he sailed, but becausehe had given out to his companions that he possessed such perfectknowledge of her movements and such security of a cordial reception,that he was now open to their raillery, whether or no they spared it.
The seneschal, who knew him well, respectfully besought him to partakeof such poor refreshment as the castle afforded; but the Cardinal wasvexed, and rode off again, without compassion for man or beast.
The Florentines looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders, butwere too wise to remonstrate. They followed him, panting, across thesteaming plain, where groups of cream-coloured oxen, cropping the rankherbage, looked up at them with dreamy, wondering eyes. When theyreached the covert of cypress, poplar, and gnarled old olives, theyloitered dangerously in the shade; and then, when well chilled, spurredon again, making themselves and their horses hotter than ever. And ofcourse, as there was a descent all the way going, there was an ascentall the way back.
Arrived at Itri, the Cardinal, throwing himself from his horse, calledloudly for iced water.
"My lord, you are very hot," said Giovanni Andrea, with seemingkindness. "Let me prevail on your Eminence to take this broth instead.It will be safer, and will repair your strength."
The Cardinal took the broth, which was temptingly seasoned, and turnedaway with a sigh of relief. It was the early supper-hour, and the tableswere already spread in the vaulted refectory, with abundance of bettercheer than the Prior's larder usually afforded, some of which had beenbrought by his illustrious guest. And soon the hungry visitors tooktheir places, and a long Latin grace was said, and the first course ofconfetti was served; and then the trencher of each man was filled with alarge piece of meat that had been stewed with almonds and sugar.
And while this was being disposed of, the Cardinal's servants andrubicund lay-brothers covered the table with dishes of boiled meat,fowls, small birds, kids, wild boar, and other viands. And after thiscourse, another was to succeed, of tarts and cakes covered with spunsugar.
But before the banquet reached this stage, the Cardinal, who hadscarcely spoken since he sat down to table, and who had frequentlychanged colour, suddenly exclaimed--
"Take me hence--I am strangely ill!"----
Every eye was upon him in a moment--many started from their seats--oneor two noted gourmands feigned deafness, and helped themselves to thebest. Bernardino Salviati, the Cardinal's personal attendant, caught himin his arms.
"Lean on me, my Lord Cardinal," said he. "We will bear you to yourchamber."
"Treachery, treachery, Salviati!" murmured the Cardinal, almostinarticulately. "I am poisoned."
Giovanni Andrea, his other supporter, making believe to wipe the clammydew from his face, held the handkerchief over his mouth, so as tomuffle his voice. Above it glared the Cardinal at him fiercely.
"Stand back!" said Salviati to him, roughly.
"My Lord Cardinal is delirious, he raves," said Giovanni Andrea,shrinking away.
"Prior! don't let that man come near me," said Ippolito, faintly.
The Prior, with solicitude, bent his ear to his lips, but only saw themmove. The next instant they were contorted with a spasm.
By this time, they had carried him to his bed-room, which, though thebest guest-chamber of the monastery, was furnished with asceticplainness; a crucifix, a benitier, and a wooden pallet, comprising mostof its moveables, the meagreness of which contrasted strangely enoughwith the crimson satin cushions and mattresses the Cardinal had broughtwith him, and which belonged to his horse-litter.
"Air! air!" he said, feebly, as his friends pressed round him.
"It will be well, I think, for all of you to leave the chamber," saidthe Prior, "except Salviati, Brother Marco, and myself. The Cardinal isin a high fever--I will open a vein for him."
"Not on your life," gasped Ippolito.
Meanwhile, all retired from the room except those whom the Prior hadnamed.
"Marsh miasma, no doubt," said Donati, as he returned to the refectory."There was a pestiferous vapour on the marshes to-day."
"And he would ride so fast," said Capponi, resuming his seat at table."For my part, I wonder we are not ill too. I feel quite spent, and wantsomething solid. I dare say a good night's rest will set him up again.He is of a full habit, like many of the Medici: it does not do for themto over-heat themselves. He takes everything too violently. Whatexcellent beccaficoes! I prefer, however, thrushes stuffed
withbergamots."
While these two were composedly resuming their repast, there were otherswho did not even sit down to table, but stood apart in a little knot,anxiously debating whether the Cardinal had or had not exclaimed,
"Ahi! tradimento!"--
Anxious looks were cast towards the door; and once or twice an envoy wasdespatched to the sick room. The first of these came back with disturbedaspect, saying,
"His Eminence positively refuses to be bled, and the Prior is at hiswit's end."
"What a pity!" said Strozzi. "There is no finer remedy."
"If it were any one else," pursued the first, "the Prior might take thematter into his own hands; but 'tis ticklish meddling with a Cardinal."
"Especially when that Cardinal's a Medici," said young Strozzi, with hisfather's unpleasant smile. "I'll go and see to it myself."
Presently Strozzi returned, saying mysteriously,
"A courier is instantly to be despatched to the Pope, to beg of him acertain oil he possesses, known to be a sure antidote to all poison."
"Poison!" repeated they all.
"Can it be so?" said Capponi, wiping his lips, and rising from table."This ought to be looked to."
"Nay, I say not that it _is_ so, I only say that he thinks so," repliedStrozzi. "At all events, I'm going instantly to despatch a messenger."
"Sad, sirs, sad!" said Capponi, looking his companions in the face, asStrozzi passed out.
"Nay, I expect not that it will turn out anything serious," said Donati.
"The Strozzi are tender on the subject of poison," observed MesserGiunigi, the fourth Florentine, under his breath, "since the death ofMadonna Luisa."
"Hush, sir, that touches me nearly too," gravely said Capponi, who wasof kin to Madonna Luisa's husband.
Here the Prior came forth, very irate.
"The Cardinal will none of my assistance," said he, "and yet I have beenheld to know something. He is out of his head, and yet exacts obedienceas if he were himself. Not content with obstinately refusing to loseblood, which would reduce the fever at once, and leave him as cool as acucumber, he insists that a courier on a fleet horse shall instantly bedespatched to Fondi for a certain Jew physician, named Bar Hhasdai, inwhom he has more faith than in all the Christian leeches in Italy. TheJew hath never been baptised, therefore I cannot consent to send forhim."
"Nay, but," said Donati, solicitously, "if the Cardinal himself desireshim, I see not how you are exonerated from having him, baptised, orotherwise."
"Send for him yourself, then," said the Prior; "you have plenty of yourown people."
"That will I readily," said Donati, and he left the refectory for thatpurpose.
Those who remained behind, discussed the chances of the Pope's sovereignremedy arriving in time to be of use, and talked over the presentpolitical aspect of affairs in Rome, Florence, and Bologna; and of thevarious deaths of the Medici--which was almost as dreary a subject astheir lives.
Meanwhile, there lay the poor Cardinal on his crimson satin mattresses,with his once ruddy, handsome face, now pale as ashes, pressed against acrimson satin pillow fringed with gold--nothing white, nothing cool andcomfortable about him--there he lay, alternately flushing and chilling,torn with pain and languishing with sickness and faintness--and all thewhile ideas were rushing through his distracted head like clouds acrossa racking sky; and the one predominant thought was, "Treachery!treachery!" _Now_, he who had conspired, knew what it was to beconspired against. Oh! what a long, long night! He scarcely knew orcared that people from time to time looked in on him, stooped over himto hear if he breathed, touched his heart, his wrist, drew the coverletcloser over him, and went away. He scarcely knew or cared whether manywere around him or only the faithful Salviati. His thoughts werefollowing a fleet horse tearing along the road to Fondi, and strikingsparks as it clattered down the lava paved street. Then he seemed to seethe yellow-faced Jew, in a red night-cap, peering forth from one of thehigh, unglazed windows, as the courier shouted out his name--and behindhim that Hebrew youth, whether son or acolyte, whom the Cardinal hadseen at his door in passing, only a few hours before, with his pale,delicate face, and long, spiral curls, and look of sadness andsubmission. How singular that that face, only once seen, and seen for amoment, should have stereotyped itself on his mind as the type of Isaacabout to be sacrificed!--and now he seemed to see him collectingmedicines, while the old Jew hastily threw on his furred gaberdine andcame down to the door.
A din of wild church music seemed to come through the air, and to waxinsufferably loud, and then die wailing away like a requiem over thePontine marshes. And then, wild shouts of "Palle! palle!" and citizens,half-dressed and half-armed, rushing through streets, and some of themcrying "Liberty! liberty at last!" And then there was an awful, crushingstruggle at a cathedral door; and partisans were rallying round some onewho was being borne into the sacristy; and blood was flowing and swordswere clashing, and all the while an old pontiff at the altar, who seemedcharmed into stone, was holding aloft the consecrated wafer, and thelittle tinkling bell was perpetually ringing till its shrillness seemedas if it would crack the tympanum of his ears; and sweet childish voiceswere singing:--
"Et in terra pax! hominibus bonae voluntatis!"
Then all melted away, and he was aware of a long, long suite of marblehalls, their silk and gilding covered with dust; and of an old, old manwith hoary hair borne through them in the arms of his servants, andsaying with a sigh, as he wistfully looked around them:
"This is too large a house for so small a family!"
After this stalked the dread pageant of his sins--sins of omission andsins of commission--sins that seemed so little once, and that seemed socrushing now--and as he moved his weary head, gibing faces seemedgrinning and skinny fingers pointing at him round the bed; and when heclosed his burning eyelids, he seemed to see them still, and to hear avoice say, "Son, thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things."
Oh! where were the sacraments of the Church? Where were they? Why didnot some one think of them and bring them? Why had he not voice enoughto ask for them? or strength enough to sign for them? And if he had,could they do him any good?
He knew not how time went. It seemed one long, long night, but in factit covered a few days. Bar Hhasdai arrived at last--he had been absentwhen sent for. The Christian hangers-on scowled and spat on him as hepassed. He looked loftily down on them, and he passed on; following thepale-faced Giovan Andrea. Pausing at the door, the Jew looked full athim.
"I want a dog," said he.
"A dog?" repeated the steward, aghast.
"Yes: a four-footed one; not a Christian. And a roll of bread."
He passed into the sick room, where the faithful Salviati rose from theCardinal's bedside. The Prior, who was telling his beads, drew his robecloser round him and retired as far from the Jew as possible.
Bar Hhasdai took up a lamp, and held it full in the Cardinal's unwinkingeyes.
"He does not see it," said he.
He laid the palm of his hand against his heart: then taking some crumbof the roll the steward had brought him, he rubbed it against his ownface and offered it to the lapdog Giovan Andrea held under his arm. Thelittle dog immediately ate it.
"What next?" thought the steward, in wonder. The Prior stood transfixed,curiously on the watch. Salviati's eyes had something imploring in them:the faithful fellow had not once left his master, and was now haggardwith his long vigil.
The Jew silently took another piece of bread and rubbed the Cardinal'sclammy face with it: then offered it to the little dog. The little dogsmelt it, and resolutely refused to taste it.
"You see," said Bar Hhasdai, fixing the steward with his eye, "theCardinal is poisoned." Then, to the Prior, "Let him have the sacramentsof your Church."
Giovan Andrea reeled back, but recovered himself in time to escapefalling.
"Wretch!" exclaimed Salviati, springing towards him in rage anddespair; but Giovan Andrea glided like a serpent from beneath his grasp,an
d clapped the door after him.
"He will not escape justice," said the Prior. "I have given orders thathe shall be watched."
Salviati cast himself on his expiring master in a paroxysm of grief. Atthe sound of his wild cry, others rushed in: and the Jew quietly passedout. Extreme unction was administered.
Thus perished the brilliant Ippolito de' Medici, who would deserve morepity if he had not designed some very similar end for his cousinAlessandro. He was abundantly regretted; for his companionable qualitiesand lavish bounties had endeared him to a very large circle of friends,who did not scan his faults too closely; while his death was hailed withintense satisfaction by his enemies. Paul the Third made a frivolousexcuse for not sending him the specific he so urgently requested.Probably it would not have saved him; but the animus of his Holiness wasnot shown to his advantage on the occasion.
As for the wretched Giovan Andrea, he made straight for the outer gateswhen he quitted the Cardinal's chamber; but was there collared by astalwart lay-brother, who, with the assistance of two of Ippolito'sretainers, conveyed him to the lock-up room. Here he remained a shorttime, in full anticipation of being put to the torture; which too surelycame to pass. At first he denied any guilt; but that most odious processbeing persisted in, his agony at length wrung from him the admissionthat he had administered poison to the Cardinal, having ground itbetween two stones, which he had afterwards thrown away.
Where had he thrown those stones?
Upon a rubbish-heap outside the buttery-window.
Search was made for the stones. They were found, with marks of someforeign substance upon them. They were shown him: he said they were thesame.
The Cardinal's retainers were so enraged with the wretch, that they werewith difficulty restrained from falling upon him and putting him todeath. Felippo Strozzi had strongly charged his son to deliver him outof their hands, that a regular judicial examination might take place atRome, and Alessandro's guilt, as the prompter of the crime, beestablished.
The younger Strozzi, therefore, sent Giovan Andrea, under a sufficientguard, to Rome, where his examination took place; and in the firstinstance he confirmed his former confession, and stated that he hadreceived the poison from one Otto di Montacuto, a servant of DukeAlessandro's, to be employed as he had used it.
Yet, after this, he denied _both_ his former confessions, and, in spiteof all that Strozzi could say or do, was actually let off! He thereuponwent straight to Florence, and remained some days in the Duke's palace,openly under his protection. He then retired to his native place, Borgodi San Sepolcro, a little town under the Apennines, some forty milesfrom Florence. And here, after remaining in safety a few months, whetheror no on account of any fresh proof of his crime, he was stoned to deathin a sudden outburst of popular indignation.
As for the wicked Duke, his employer, I shall only say that his murderwas most horrible: so that Ippolito's death was amply avenged. We mayall be very glad to have done with the subject.