THE CARDINAL TEMPTED.
How fared it with Cardinal Ippolito, after he left Fondi? In a general
way we may be pretty sure that he fared sumptuously every day, clothed
in purple and fine linen; that he entertained a constant succession of
noble, learned, witty, and intellectual guests; that a certain portion
of broken victuals from his table was daily given to beggars full of
sores at his gate; that he read the Greek and Latin poets a good deal
more than the Old and New Testament; that he bought whatever pleased him
in the way of intaglios, cameos, mosaics, ivory carvings, rare
manuscripts, and paintings,--out of the revenues of the Church; that he
now and then gave a ring, chain, or purse of gold to some poor author or
artist,--out of the revenues of the Church; that he took part in high
solemnities, and looked and acted his part well when relics were to be
exhibited, or pontifical mass performed, or martyrs to be canonised.
Did he believe in them, think you? Did he believe in "the most holy
cross," "the most holy visage," the "sacred spear"? I very much doubt
the poor Cardinal's faith in much holier things than these. He would
have been very glad to possess the faith of that barefooted little
contadina with the silver dagger in her hair, whom he saw pressing her
lips so undoubtingly and affectionately to a dirty little box held by a
still dirtier friar. To him it was all an extremely well got-up scene;
interesting in an artistic point of view; painfully unreal whenever he
came to think of it. He liked the thrilling music, the air heavy with
incense, the various costumes and draperies, the heaps of church plate,
the shrines encrusted with gems, the portraits of famous beauties with
haloes and palms; but oh! they did not even touch his feelings; and as
for his thoughts, his thoughts!--
It seemed to him quite as hard to believe that the bread and wine on the
altar were what they purported to be, as that the imprint of the
Redeemer's face was stamped on the kerchief of St. Veronica. Sometimes
he was ready to persuade himself he blindly believed all; at other
times, he was too sadly sure he believed in nothing. Nothing but
death!--and it was almost death to think of it. "Let us eat and drink,
for to-morrow we die!"
Well, but there was his old uncle, the Pope, who had a good deal more on
his conscience than he had, and must be a good deal nearer that
catastrophe than he was, he was so much older!--and how comfortably he
took it all!--washing the pilgrims' feet, blessing the horses, borne
aloft in that tottering seat between the two great fans of ostrich
feathers, stretching out his fingers in continual benediction--the
king--the vice-God of the hour--forgiving the sins of all the
world--_he_ seemed to get through it all very well--
But, just as the Cardinal had reached this point, Pope Clement
_died_--and how did the people show their sense of his holiness? He died
on the 26th of September, 1534; just two months after the sack of Fondi;
and during the period between his decease and the election of a
successor, the contempt and hatred of the Romans showed themselves by
the most outrageous insults to his memory. Night after night, his bier
was broken and defaced. On one occasion his body was actually torn from
its grave-clothes, and found in the morning transfixed with a sword. And
there were those who scrupled not to say it would have been dragged
through the streets with a hook, but for respect for Cardinal Ippolito.
All this was very terrible for Ippolito. Death, in all its grisly
horrors, and without any of its holy and softening associations, was
brought before him whether he would or no; with no sacrament of tears
and blessings, no cherished memories of the last look, the last sigh; no
death-bed sanctities.
And then the new Pope, Paul the Third, was a Farnese. The Medici party
had gone out, the Farnese party had come in; and Ippolito was looked on
as an enviable pluralist, whose benefices the new Pope's friends would
gladly share. Ippolito knew it was so, because it must be so: it would
not be Roman human nature if it had been otherwise. And in the night, he
would lie awake and think, "What a juggle, and a struggle, and a farce
it all is!--What a seeming, and a sham!--Why did I ever accept this
detestable hat? Why should I have been put off with it? Why should not I
have been Grand Duke of Florence instead of Alessandro? I am of the
elder branch, and any way I would have played my part better. O, Giulia,
why would not you have me? It would have been better for both of us!"
And he got into the way of fancying that all his faults were _her_
fault.
He was just in that state that he lay open to any temptation. And
temptation is never long coming, when we are in that case. He was ready
for anything that seemed to promise to put him in Alessandro's place;
and there was a large body of banished Florentines, or _fuorusciti_ as
they were commonly called, who burned to dethrone the tyrant and abolish
tyranny. Their views were larger and more patriotic than Ippolito's, for
he only wished to transfer his cousin's power to himself: however,
Felippo Strozzi, the richest and most crafty citizen in Florence, knew
enough of both parties to think he could make them serve his own
purposes.
Felippo Strozzi therefore opened his mind to Ippolito on the subject of
getting rid of Alessandro, and found it easier to do than it might have
been, because Ippolito was already a guilty man concerning his
cousin--he had already been trying to induce the Archbishop of
Marseilles to assassinate him. What churchmen!--That scheme had not
answered, but his part was taken now; with a colour of patriotism in it;
for he must keep his selfish views out of sight of the _fuorusciti_, or
they would have nothing to say to him.
The simplest way appeared to be to get Charles the Fifth to change the
government of Florence by an act of his sovereign will; and then, no
assassination need be in question.
This appeared so bright an idea to the Cardinal, that, without troubling
himself to take counsel with his confederates, he sent a trusty
messenger on his own account to the Emperor, to lay such a statement
before him as would, he hoped, convince him of the justice and
expediency of subverting Alessandro's government. But alas, the
messenger brought back word that the Emperor would have nothing to say
to it; the Cardinal had nothing to expect from him.
On this, Ippolito had recourse to his bad adviser, Strozzi, and put it
to him--
"What say you? Shall I, under these circumstances, please the Emperor by
making up matters with Alessandro, and accept the ecclesiastical
preferments which have, in that case, been offered me?"
"Please yourself," says Felippo, with his cynical smile. "I wouldn't, if
I were you, but that's not my affair. Such a peace-making would
doubtless be very acceptable to the Duke, as relieving him of a
dangerous enemy; but it would be both injurious and disgraceful to
yourself. At least, that's the way _I_ take it."
"Here am I all at sea again, then," said the Cardinal.
"You talk of a reconciliation as if it could really be made," pursued
Strozzi; "whereas it would assuredly come to nothing: because such
matters have already passed between you as that Alessandro would never
really trust you; and this feeling on his part would make you, or ought
to make you, equally distrustful of him. So that you never could live
safely in Florence as long as he was in power there. And as to the
appanages he has promised you, depend upon it, that as soon as his
alliance with the Emperor was secured he would snap his fingers at you,
and you might go whistle for them!"
"If you think _that_--" said Ippolito.
"I do think that, I promise you," said Felippo Strozzi. "I don't want to
make differences between relations, not I; but if you ask me for my
plain opinion, there you have it. He would take care to gain the ear of
the Emperor so as that you should never have one of those benefices, for
his cue will be to keep you down as much as he can."
"Nay then--" said the Cardinal.
"Besides," continued Strozzi, "such a reconciliation would make you
despicable in the sight of all the world; for every one knows your
opinion of Alessandro, and would be quite aware that nothing but mere
hope of profit could have brought you to make it up with him--they would
never believe in any more honourable motive."
"Then again--" resumed he, seeing that Ippolito was in a painful state
of vacillation, "by adopting a more spirited line of action, and uniting
yourself with the _fuorusciti_, you would gain immortal honour and glory
as the deliverer and true father of your country, _and would see your
arms put up all over the city_!"
This last bait was too much for Ippolito to resist. His eye kindled, and
he half started from his seat.
"And this would even be your wisest course of action," pursued his
cunning tempter, "should you feel inclined to make yourself absolute
master of the state instead of liberating it, inasmuch as it would
obtain such popularity for you in the first instance. All the old
friends of your house are so disgusted and alienated by the conduct of
Alessandro, that they would gladly transfer their allegiance to you. And
_I_ will undertake, if you will only be prudent, to make the
_fuorusciti_ espouse your cause. With the French money and favour which
my influence can secure to you, you may be certain of success!"
Ippolito's breast heaved. It seemed "a good plot--an excellent
plot"--though a voice in his heart made its stifled accents heard
against it. And so, in evil hour, the decision was made; and he became
the tool of this wicked man, who designed, through him, to wreak his own
vengeance on Alessandro.
But a bird of the air carried the matter to the Grand Duke; else how
should he have heard of it? He, ready enough to fight conspirators with
their own weapons, communicated secretly with Ippolito's steward, Giovan
Andrea di Borgho San Sepolcro, and covenanted with him to do a certain
deed for a certain sum of money.
Meantime, Strozzi negotiated with the leaders of the _fuorusciti_, who,
knowing his character for craft and treachery, were not at all ready to
meet him half way, and sometimes drove him to such desperation with
their answers to his advances that he was almost minded to throw up
conspiracy altogether, and retire upon his enormous fortune to Venice,
and live quietly like an honest man. Well if he had!
The Cardinal, meantime, hearing that the Emperor was fitting out an
expedition to Tunis, resolved to follow him thither, accompanied by
certain of the _fuorusciti_, and lay his complaints before him in
person.
No sooner had he decided on this step than he hastened his preparations
for departure. He loved action and the bruit of arms: he would have made
a pretty good soldier: probably a noted commander. To supply himself
with the necessary funds, he broke up and sold all his plate, and
borrowed ten thousand ducats of Felippo Strozzi. Having hired twenty
horses for his personal attendants and four Florentines who were to
accompany him, he started from Rome at the latter end of July, 1535, _en
route_ for the little town of Itri, near Fondi, where he purposed
awaiting the vessel in which he was to embark at Gaeta.
The reason he meant to wait at Itri rather than Gaeta was that he
believed Giulia to be at Fondi--in which he was mistaken.
As he was in the act of mounting his beautiful mare, she fell beneath
him, without any apparent reason; which was afterwards looked back on as
an evil omen.