Meanwhile he and most of his followers were thoroughly tired of warfare, and the queen never ceased imploring him to return home. The French supplies of men and money were exhausted, and when Charles sent home for reinforcements, Anne of Brittany replied that there were no Frenchmen left to send, only widows weeping for their husbands, whose bones were whitening on the Italian plains. The Venetian ambassador, Commines, who was strongly in favour of peace, had already opened negotiations with some of his friends in Venice, and Charles lent a willing ear both to his proposals and to those of the Duchess of Savoy, who on her part offered to mediate between him and the Duke of Milan. But Briconnet, the Cardinal of S. Malo, Lodovico's old enemy and a staunch partisan of Orleans, defeated these plans by his intrigues, and the French army, leaving Asti, advanced to Vercelli, in the duchy of Savoy, and prepared to take the field. Both parties, however, were growing weary of this prolonged warfare, and Commines declares that in the French camp no one wanted to fight, unless the king led them to battle, and that Charles himself had not the slightest wish to take the field.

At length, early in September, the first detachment of Swiss levies reached Vercelli, and on the 12th the king himself arrived in the camp. His first act was to hold a council of war, which decided in favour of peace, and Commines was sent to treat with the Marquis of Mantua. The allies insisted on the unconditional surrender of Novara, while Charles VIII. asked for the restitution of Genoa as an ancient fief of the French crown. Nothing was concluded, but a truce of eight days was agreed upon, and prolonged conferences were held at a castle between Vercelli and Cameriano.

On the 21st of September, Lodovico returned to the camp of the league, bringing Beatrice with him, and rode out to meet the French commissioners. Commines gives a minute account of the conferences, which took place in the duke's lodgings at Cameriano during the next fortnight.

"Every day the duke and duchess came to meet us at the end of a long gallery and conducted us to their rooms, where we found two long rows of chairs prepared, and we sat down on one side, and the representatives of the league on the other. First came the ambassadors of the King of the Romans and the King of Spain; then the Marquis of Mantua and the Venetian Provveditori and envoy; then the Duke of Milan and his wife the duchess, seated between him and the ambassador of Ferrara. On their side, the duke was the only spokesman, and on our side one only. But our habit is not to speak as quietly as they do; two or three of us often began to speak at the same time, which made the duke say, 'Ho! ho! if you please, one at a time.' And two secretaries, one of ours and one of theirs, wrote down the articles agreed upon, and before we took leave, read them aloud, the one in Italian, the other in French, to see if there was anything that could be altered or shortened."

Beatrice was present at all the deliberations, and surprised the other commissioners by her cleverness and quickness, and the ready tact she invariably showed. The duke was now sincerely anxious for peace, and only cared to recover Novara, and to see the French safely out of his dominions, where the presence of Louis of Orleans could not fail to prove a disturbing element. Both he and Commines directed all their efforts to bring matters to a favourable conclusion, but the other commissioners made difficulties, and the Venetian, Spanish, and German ambassadors would decide nothing without consulting their separate governments. The evacuation of Novara, however, was unanimously agreed upon, and on the 26th of September, Orleans and his garrison marched out with the honours of war, and were escorted by Messer Galeaz and the Marquis of Mantua to the French outposts. More than two thousand men had already died of sickness and starvation. Almost all their horses had been eaten, and the survivors were in a miserable plight. Many perished by the roadside, and Commines found fifty troopers in a fainting condition in a garden at Cameriano, and saved their lives by feeding them with soup. Even then one man died on the spot, and four others never reached the camp. Three hundred more died at Vercelli, some of sickness, others from over-eating themselves after the prolonged starvation which they had endured, and the dung-hills of the town were strewn with dead corpses. Yet still Orleans, who, as Commines remarks, had caused all this mischief, was eager for war, and entreated the king to make no terms with Signor Lodovico. He had a strong supporter in the Milanese captain, Jean Jacques Trivulzio, who had entered the French king's service after Alfonso's flight from Naples, and had never forgotten his old griefs against Lodovico and his son-in-law. And on the selfsame day that Novara was evacuated, the bailiff of Dijon arrived at Vercelli with ten or twelve thousand more Swiss mercenaries, bringing up the whole number to upwards of twenty thousand. So large a body had never been assembled before, and the presence of these rude mountaineers, greedy for spoil and ready to quarrel with friends or foes, created general alarm. The Duke of Milan was now more eager than ever to conclude peace, and when Louis of Orleans and Trivulzio urged the king to break off negotiations and march at the head of the Swiss on Milan, Charles replied curtly that it was too late, for the preliminaries of peace were already signed. He himself had no wish but to return home and send help to his distressed troops in Naples.

Accordingly, on the 9th of October a separate convention was concluded between the King of France and the Duke of Milan, leaving the other Powers to settle their differences among themselves. Novara was restored to Lodovico, and his title to Genoa and Savona recognized, while Charles renounced the support of his cousin Louis of Orleans' claims upon Milan. In return the duke promised not to assist Ferrante with troops or ships, to give free passage to French armies, and assist the king with Milanese troops if he returned to Naples in person. He further renounced his claim on Asti, and agreed to pay the Duke of Orleans 50,000 ducats as a war indemnity, and lend the king two ships as transports for his soldiers from Genoa to Naples. A debt of 80,000 ducats, that was still owing to Lodovico, was cancelled, and the Castelletto of the port of Genoa was placed in the Duke of Ferrara's hands, as a security that these engagements would be kept on both sides. The king, we learn from Commines, still retained a friendly feeling for the Duke of Milan, and invited him to a meeting before he left Italy; but Lodovico had taken umbrage at certain offensive remarks made by the Count of Ligny and Cardinal Briconnet, and excused himself on plea of illness, while he declared in private that he would not trust himself in the French king's company unless a river ran between them. "It is true," says Commines, "that foolish words had been spoken, but the king meant well, and wished to remain his friend."

The Marquis of Mantua was better disposed towards his Most Christian Majesty, and gladly accepted an invitation to visit the king at Vercelli before his departure. He wrote to his wife in great haste, begging her to send him his finest linen shirts and best gold brocade vest and mantle, together with different sorts of choice perfumes, and the next day duly made his obeisance to the king. He was highly gratified at the courtesy with which he was received, and at the familiar way in which his Majesty conversed, not only with himself, but with his servants, "treating them exactly as if they were his equals" and condescending to lift his hand to his cap each time they saluted him." What impressed this rough soldier most of all was the sight of three cardinals standing among the crowd at the door, "just as the chaplains may be seen in any other house," and among them the cardinal of S. Pietro in Vincula (afterwards Julius II.), "who dares contend with the Pope, and who yet stood here in the humblest and most respectful fashion." Before the marquis left, the king made him a present of two valuable bay horses, remarkable for their fine shape and speed. One of the two was an excellent jumper, and delighted Francesco by the way in which he could clear wide trenches and lofty fences at a single bound, "jumping with all four feet in the air at once."

At the same time Gonzaga's secretary, Jacopo d'Atri, informed the Marchesa that the priest Bernardino d'Urbino and a troop of Mantuan singers had been sent that evening to amuse the king. Charles questioned the chaplain closely about his master's wife, asking for an exact description of her person, height, and features, and being especially anxious to learn if Isabella at all resembled the Duchess Beatrice, and if, like that illustrious lady, she was as charming and gracious as she was beautiful. Don Bernardino replied discreetly that the Marchesa was, to say the truth, even more beautiful than her sister, and surpassed all other ladies by her charm and brilliancy. This roused the king's curiosity to the highest pitch, and he insisted on having a full and particular account of Isabella's talents and accomplishments, as well as of the gowns she usually wore and the fashion of her clothes, and rejoiced to hear she was not very tall, since he himself was short of stature and admired small women. "In short," adds the secretary, "his Majesty appeared quite in love with my description of your Excellency, and if he meets you, will, I am sure, seek to kiss your cheek, not once, but many times. And this being the case, I am glad to be able to tell you that the King of France is less deformed than people say."[62]

The desired meeting, however, was never effected. Immediately peace was signed, Charles VIII. left Vercelli, crossed the Alps with the remnants of his army, and reached Lyons on the 7th of November. Commines, meanwhile, was sent on a further errand to Venice, where he vainly endeavoured to negotiate a treaty, but found the Signoria determined to maintain the cause of Ferrante of Naples. The Venetians were not sorry to disband their army and see the French cross the Alps; but none the less their indignation was great at the Duke of Milan's breach of faith in concluding a separate peace, and sharp words passed between the ambassadors of Spain and Naples and the Milanese envoy at Venice.

"The best thing, in my opinion," remarks the annalist Malipiero, "would have been for Contarini to give the Stradiots orders to cut to pieces both Duke Lodovico and Ercole of Ferrara, who are the Signory's worst enemies. And the truth is, you should never take part in another's quarrel, or enter the country of a foreign ally, for in these matters no one is to be trusted."



Maximilian, on his part, was satisfied with Lodovico's excuses, and owned that the duke was right to make peace without delay. As for Lodovico, it was with a deep sense of relief that he saw the departure of the last French troops. He invited the Duke of Ferrara, the Marquis of Mantua, and the Venetian Provveditori to Vigevano, and entertained them all magnificently. When, on his return from Venice, Commines in his turn visited Vigevano, the duke rode out to meet him with charming courtesy, and bade the French ambassador welcome to his beautiful country home. But when they came to business, it was another matter. Commines heard from Genoa that the two ships, which the Duke of Milan was to send to Naples with the French fleet, had received orders not to sail, and when he asked for an explanation, Lodovico told him that he could put no trust or confidence in his master the king. At the end of three days the ambassador took his leave, and just as he was starting on his journey, to his surprise the duke came up to him very civilly, and said that, after all, he wished to keep on friendly terms with his Most Christian Majesty, and had determined to send Messer Galeaz with the ships to Naples, and that before Commines reached Lyons he should receive a letter to this effect. So Commines crossed the Alps with a light heart, and all the way to Lyons he kept looking back, he tells us, in constant expectation of hearing the sound of horse's hoofs behind him. But the duke's messenger did not overtake him, and the ships never sailed from Genoa.

That year the festival of Christmas was celebrated with great joy and splendour at the court of Milan. After the troubled times of the last twelve months, after the dangers which had threatened the very existence of the State, and brought the noise of war to the gates of Vigevano, peace and tranquillity were once more restored, and another era of unclouded prosperity seemed about to dawn. Now that poor Giangaleazzo was dead, and Louis of Orleans had once more crossed the Alps, there was no one to dispute Lodovico's title or to prevent his son from eventually succeeding him on the throne. Once more he and Beatrice were free to devote themselves to the encouragement of learning and poetry, of painting and architecture; to watch Bramante and Leonardo at work, or read Dante and Petrarch together.

That winter the altar-piece of the Brera, containing the portraits of the duke and his family, was painted by Zenale or some other Lombard master, for the church of S. Ambrogio in Nemo. Here the Madonna and Child are enthroned in the centre of the picture; the four Fathers of the Church, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and Gregory, stand on either side; and in the foreground, kneeling at the foot of the throne, are the Duke and Duchess of Milan, with their two children. The Christ-child turns towards Lodovico, and St. Ambrose, the protector and patron saint of Milan, lays his hand on the shoulder of the duke, as, clad in rich brocades and wearing a massive gold chain round his neck, he clasps his hands in prayer. And the gentle Madonna stretches out her hand lovingly towards Beatrice, who kneels at her feet, with the long coil of twisted hair, and the pearls on her head and neck, and her favourite knots of ribbons fluttering from her shoulders or falling over the velvet stripes of her yellow satin robe. Close at her side is the infant prince, Francesco Sforza, with his baby face and swaddled clothes; while opposite, kneeling at his father's side, is the handsome little Count of Pavia. Here, at least, there is no doubt that we have authentic portraits of both Lodovico Sforza and Beatrice d'Este, the reigning Duke and Duchess of Milan, towards the close of the year 1495. There is no mistaking the long black hair, the refined features, and long nose of the Moro, while in Beatrice's features we recognize the same youthful and child-like charm that mark her countenance in Cristoforo Romano's bust or Solari's effigy in the Certosa of Pavia.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 627.

[62] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 630.



CHAPTER XXV

The war of Pisa—Venice defends the liberties of Pisa against Florence —Lodovico invites Maximilian to enter Italy and succour the Pisans—The Duke and Duchess of Milan go to meet the emperor at Mals—Maximilian crosses the Alps and comes to Vigevano—His interview with the Venetian envoys—His expedition to Pisa.

1496

"After Fornovo," wrote the Venetian Malipiero, "Lodovico Duke of Milan governed all things in Italy." The departure of the French had left him practically the arbiter between the other Powers, and afforded him fresh opportunities of satisfying his ambitious schemes. He had long cherished hopes of recovering the city of Pisa, upon which the Dukes of Milan had ancient claims, and in September, 1495, while Orleans still held Novara, he sent Fracassa, at the head of a band of Genoese archers, to help the Pisans defend their newly recovered liberties against the Florentines. Three months later Fracassa was recalled, in tardy compliance with the condition of the Treaty of Vercelli; but early in the following year, the Pisans, finding themselves deserted by the French, turned once more to Lodovico and implored his help. At the same time they sought assistance from the Signory of Venice, who, in March, 1496, publicly took the city of Pisa under the protection of St. Mark, and helped their new allies with liberal supplies of men and money. The Duke of Milan sent a small brigade to join these forces, and strongly encouraged the Venetians to bear the burden of a war from which in the end he hoped to reap solid advantage. But his secret jealousy of Venice, as well as rumours that Charles VIII. was meditating a second French expedition to relieve the distressed garrison of Naples, induced him to seek the help of a new ally In the person of the Emperor Maximilian.

Early in the spring he sent the Marchesino Stanga across the Alps to invite Maximilian to come to the help of Pisa, which as an imperial city had already appealed to him for protection, assuring him that his presence in Italy would maintain the balance of power between Venice and Florence, and curb the French king's ambition. The prospect of descending upon Italy and assuming the imperial crown flattered Maximilian's vanity, but, as usual, his movements were hampered by lack of money. At length he agreed to meet the Duke of Milan on the frontier of Tyrol and the Valtellina, and discuss their future plan of operations together.

On the 5th of July the emperor left Innsbruck for Nauders, and on the same day the duke and duchess, accompanied by Galeazzo di Sanseverino and the Count of Melzi, set out on their journey up the lake of Como to Bormio, in the Valtellina, On the 17th they reached the Abbey of Mals, "an ancient monastery," says Cagnola, "at the foot of those terrible mountains on the way to Germany;" and two days afterwards, received a message from Maximilian, informing the duke and duchess that he was about to pay them a visit, but begging them not to leave their lodgings, as he wished the meeting to be informal and without ceremony. Early on the morning of the 20th, the gay music of hunting-horns woke the mountain echoes, and a hunting-party suddenly appeared at the gates of the old Benedictine abbey. First came a hundred soldiers on foot, bearing long lances, then fifty German lords in hunting-garb, with falcons on their wrists. These were followed by his Imperial Majesty, a princely figure in his simple grey cloth tunic and black velvet cap, with a lion's skin hanging over his thighs, and the badge of the Golden Fleece on his breast. A troop of servants and pages, in the imperial liveries of red, white, and yellow, brought up the rear of the procession, that wound along the steep mountain-side and halted before the convent, where the Duke of Milan had his lodgings.

The Venetian ambassador, Francesco Foscari, hearing of Maximilian's proposed visit, had, on Lodovico's invitation, followed him across the Alps, accompanied by the Cardinal of Santa Croce, the papal nuncio. Both these envoys waited on the emperor at Mals, and that evening Foscari's secretary, Conrade Vimerca, wrote the following account of the meeting between Maximilian and the duke and duchess in his despatches to Venice:—

"His Majesty alighted with an eagerness which seemed to me only too great, and went upstairs, where he found the duke alone with the duchess, and spent half an hour in close and affectionate intercourse with them both. Afterwards they all three attended mass in the neighbouring church, and his Majesty appeared, leading the duchess with his right hand and the duke with his left, with such demonstrations of love and familiarity as can hardly be described. All three then rode on horseback to the emperor's lodgings at Colorno (Glurns), some eight miles distant, where his Majesty entertained the duke and duchess and all their suite at dinner under a pavilion, which had been erected under the trees. His Majesty insisted on both the duke and duchess washing their hands with him in the same bowl, and, sitting down between them at table, himself helped first one, then the other, from the endless variety of dishes spread out before them. All this he did with an ease and kindness beyond anything that I have ever seen in royal personages. Each time the duke spoke he took off his cap, and his Majesty did the same. After dinner they remained for some while in pleasant conversation, and then rode all three together to another place called Mals, one mile further off, his Majesty bearing all the expenses of the entertainment. To-morrow night they will remain together here, and there will be some time for discussion. I am quite sure," adds the Venetian secretary, "after this that we shall see his Majesty in Italy next August, and this you may hold to be absolutely certain. As for the King of France, they do not even mention his name or think of him any more than if he did not exist."

Although the Signoria of Venice had joined the Duke of Milan in inviting Maximilian to come to Italy, and had promised him their assistance, they were secretly not a little alarmed at the prospect of another foreign invasion, fearing, as one of their chroniclers observes, that the Germans might prove to be even greater barbarians than the French. In the interview which Foscari had with the emperor at Mals, he endeavoured politely to dissuade him from entering Italy with a German army; but, as his secretary remarked, it was too late, for the Duke of Milan willed that he should come. Nor were the jealous Venetians altogether pleased to see the marks of friendship and confidence with which the German emperor honoured Lodovico and his wife. The familiarity with which Maximilian treated both the duke and duchess, and the evident pleasure which he took in their company, seemed little short of marvellous in the eyes of both Foscari and his secretary.

The singular charm and intelligence of Beatrice made a deep impression upon Maximilian, who could not but contrast her brightness and cleverness with the dulness and ignorance of his own Milanese wife. And the duke's polished manners and cultured tastes could not fail to exert a powerful fascination upon a monarch whose genuine love of art and romance made him in his way as remarkable a type of the Renaissance as the Moro himself. Even apart from political considerations, this meeting between the two princes, that summer-time in the mountains of Tyrol, was an event of deep interest, and we can only regret that no record of Beatrice's impressions on this occasion has been left us.

A conference between the emperor, the Duke of Milan, and the ambassadors was held on the evening of that eventful day, and the details of the convention between the allied powers was finally agreed upon. A new league, which Henry the Seventh of England was afterwards invited to join, was formed between the Emperor Maximilian, the Duke of Milan, the Pope, the King of Spain, and the Venetian Republic; and Venice and Milan promised Maximilian a subsidy of 16,000 ducats if he would cross the Alps with an army, and compel the Florentines to give up Pisa and Leghorn.

On the following day, the Venetian ambassador and the papal legate took their leave, and Maximilian accompanied the duke and duchess over the Alps to Bormio, where he joined in a chamois-hunt, and then rode back with his retinue across the mountains to meet the empress at Tirano. Lodovico and Beatrice travelled back to Milan, where they kept the feast of the "glorious martyr St, Lawrence," on the 10th of August, with unwonted splendour, and then retired to Vigevano to prepare for the emperor's speedy return.

Before the end of the month, Maximilian had once more crossed that "crudelissima montagna" of Braulio (Piz Umbrail), and was at Bellagio on the Lake of Como, where Fracassa received him, and with five other Milanese knights held a baldacchino over his head as he rode up to the Marchesino Stanga's Castle on the hills.

"But he only brought six secretaries and two hundred horsemen with him, and as before was simply clad in a suit of grey cloth," remarks a Venetian writer: "the pettiest German baron would have come with more pomp!" A few days afterwards, the emperor went on to the ducal villa at Meda, near Como, where Lodovico met him with the Cardinal di Santa Croce and Foscari, and conducted him, on the 2nd of September, to see Duchess Beatrice at Vigevano. Here he remained for the next three weeks, enjoying the beauties of the Moro's favourite summer palace, and admiring the perfection of Lodovico's latest improvements—the clock recently constructed by Bramante, the marble capitals of the great hall, and the model farm and stables of the Sforzesca. Maximilian had originally intended to visit Milan, and the erection of a triumphal arch in the Roman style had been ordered by the duke, together with other decorations on a vast scale; but at the last moment this idea was abandoned. The Venetian, Marino Sanuto, unkindly suggests that the Moro would not allow the emperor to come to Milan, lest he should see Duchess Isabella's son, who was the rightful heir to the crown. In all probability the true reason lay in Maximilian's dislike of state-pageants, and his preference for the freedom and country pleasures of Vigevano. As he told the Venetian ambassador, he preferred to travel about in different places and enjoy himself in his own way. And His Majesty added, with a frankness by no means agreeable to Foscari and his government, that he had no need of his company, and he preferred to be alone, since Duke Lodovico, with whom he was very intimate, could tell him all that he wished to know. With which distinctly unpalatable piece of information the ambassador had to be content. Maximilian, he was compelled to acknowledge, had come to Italy as the sworn friend and ally of the Duke of Milan, and the Republic must stoop to take the second place in the councils of the League.

If Beatrice's charms had captivated the wise emperor at their first meeting in the mountains of the Valtellina, he found her a thousand times more fascinating at her beautiful country home, with her children in her arms. He took great interest in both her little boys, and begged that the elder of the two, Ercole, should bear the name of Maximilian, by which he became known in future days. In memory of this visit the emperor's portrait was introduced in the beautiful miniatures which illustrate Maximilian Sforza's Book of Prayers, or Libro di Gesu, still preserved in the Trivulzian Library. Here the young count is represented on horseback, receiving his illustrious cousin, while the words of the Latin oration, which he is in the act of reciting, are illuminated on the front page.

The Venetian Signory had decided to send two special ambassadors to congratulate the emperor on his arrival in Italy, and on the 14th these envoys, Antonio Grimani and Marco Morosini, reached Milan, where they were received by Galeazzo Sforza, Count of Melzi, and lodged in the Palazzo del Verme, then inhabited by Madonna Cecilia Gallerani and her husband Count Lodovico Bergamini, and lately decorated with frescoes and marbles at the duke's expense. Early the next day they travelled by boat to Abbiategrasso, past the fair villas and smiling gardens that charmed the eyes of Jean d'Auton when he travelled along the banks of the Ticino. Here Foscari, who was already in attendance on the emperor, came to meet them, and they rode into Vigevano, where they were received by the Count of Caiazzo and Galeotto della Mirandola, and listened in torrents of rain to a Latin oration that was delivered in Maximilian's name. It was already dark when the ambassadors reached the Castello, but the duke himself rode out to welcome them, and conducted them to their lodgings in the palace of his son-in-law, Galeazzo di Sanseverino. Here the duke's own daughter, Madonna Bianca, the youthful bride whom Messer Galeaz had brought home a few weeks before, entertained her father's guests, and bade them welcome in the name of her gallant husband, who was laid up with an attack of fever, and was unable to leave his room or attend to business. The next day the ambassadors were granted an audience, at which Marino Sanuto, as a member of Foscari's suite, was himself present. His Majesty, whom the Venetian described as a magnificent-looking man of thirty-seven, with long hair already turning white, and perfect manners, received them at the top of the grand staircase, on the first floor of the Castello. As usual, he was clad in black and wore a long velvet mantle, and a black woollen cap trimmed with cords in the French style, having taken a vow to wear no colours until he had defeated the Turks, while his sole ornament was a gold chain, with the badge of the Golden Fleece, which hung round his neck. He was seated on a dais, draped with cloth of gold, with the Duke of Milan on his right hand, and the Cardinal di Santa Croce on his left. The ambassadors of Naples and Spain were also present, as well as the Count of Caiazzo, the Marchesino Stanga, Don Angelo de' Talenti, the Bishops of Como and Piacenza, the secretary de' Negri, and other well-known Milanese courtiers. Marco Morosini then pronounced an elegant harangue, which was praised by all present, and graciously accepted by the emperor, who conversed affably with the envoys on general subjects. Afterwards Marino Sanuto was presented to the Duchess Beatrice, who, he remarks, "never leaves her lord's side, although she is once more with child,"—and her two fine little boys, "Ercole, whose name has been changed by His Majesty's desire to Maximilian, and who is called Count of Pavia, and a second named Sforza." A succession of fetes and hunting-parties was given by the duke for the entertainment of his imperial guest during the next week, and ending with a "Caccia bellissima" to which the cardinal-legate, all the princes, ambassadors, and courtiers were invited. Two hundred riders took part in the hunt that day, and "I myself," adds the grave historian, "was there and saw a hare caught by a leopard."

On the 23rd of September the emperor took leave of the Duchess Beatrice, who presented him, as a parting gift, with a superb litter, made of woven gold, richly adorned with fine needlework—"the most beautiful thing which I have ever seen," writes Sanuto, "and valued at a thousand ducats." The duke accompanied his guest as far as Tortona, where he left Maximilian to go on to Genoa, and thence by sea to Pisa.

"There are, people say, three reasons," remarked Marino Sanuto, "why His Imperial Majesty is such fast friends with the Duke of Milan. In the first place, he sees that Lodovico has great power and authority throughout Italy. In the second, he hopes to get some money out of him. And in the third place, he looks on him as a useful ally against the King of France."

Happily for both the emperor and the Duke of Milan's peace of mind, the French king's military ardour had soon died away, and although Trivulzio was sent to Asti, and Orleans would gladly have followed him, Charles the Eighth spent his time in jousts and hunting-parties, and forgot his unhappy subjects in Southern Italy. Ferrante, assisted by a Venetian force under Francesco Gonzaga, recovered one fortress after another. On the 29th of July, Montpensier, after holding the fortified city of Atella during many months, was forced to capitulate with his five thousand men, and himself died of fever a few weeks later at Pozzuoli. Most of his troops shared the same fate, and few of that gallant army lived to return to France. Suddenly, in the midst of his victorious career, the young king Ferrante, who had a few months before obtained a papal dispensation to marry his father's youthful half-sister, Princess Joan, died of fever, brought on by the fatigues and hardships to which he had exposed himself in the previous campaign. His death was deeply lamented alike by his subjects and his relatives at Milan and Mantua, who retained a sincere affection for this brave and popular prince. Fortunately, his uncle and successor Frederic, the fifth king who had reigned over Naples during the last three years, proved a wise and capable monarch. By degrees he succeeded in capturing the few remaining castles still held by the French, and once more restored peace to his distracted kingdom. Such was the state of affairs that autumn, when the German emperor landed at Pisa on the 21st of October. The citizens received him with acclamations, and, pulling down the French king's statue, as they had broken the lion of Florence in pieces two years before, placed the imperial eagle on the top of the column in the public square. But they were once more doomed to disappointment. Maximilian, finding himself, as usual, ill supplied with both men and money, and being inadequately supported by his allies of Venice and Milan, was unable to prosecute the war against Florence with any vigour. He attempted to besiege Leghorn; but his fleet was scattered and many of his ships were wrecked by a violent storm, after which he gave up the undertaking, saying that he could not fight against both God and man. One day towards the end of November, he suddenly took his departure, and, leaving Pisa, returned by Sarzana to Pavia. The Venetians saw the failure of this expedition and the fruitless result of their large expenditure of men and money, with great dissatisfaction, and attributed most of the blame to Duke Lodovico.

"Things go badly for the Signory at Pisa," wrote Malipiero, who was himself on board the Venetian fleet that sailed with Maximilian against Leghorn, "and the cause of this is Lodovico Duke of Milan.... His pride and arrogance are beyond description. He boasts that Pope Alexander is his chaplain, the Emperor Maximilian his condottiere, the Signory of Venice his chamberlain, since they spend their money largely to attain his ends, and the King of France his courier, who comes and goes at his pleasure. Truly a fearful state of things!"

And Marino Sanuto remarked, "The Duke of Milan is one of the wisest men in the world, but his success has rendered him very ungrateful to Venice, whose secret enemy he will always remain. He made a great mistake in allowing the Duke of Orleans to escape from Novara, and some day he will be punished for his bad faith. For he never keeps his promises, and when he says one thing, always does another. All men fear him, because fortune is propitious to him in everything. But none the less, I believe that he will not continue long in prosperity, for God is just, and will punish him because he is a traitor and never keeps faith with any one."

The Florentine Guicciardini moralized in much the same strain, saying that Lodovico publicly vaunted himself to be the son of Fortune, "little remembering the inconstancy of human fame," and flattered himself that he would always be able to govern the affairs of Italy, "with his industrie to turn and winde the minds of every one. This fond persuasion he could not dissemble, neither in himself, nor in his peoples, in so much that Milan day and night was replenished with voices vaine and glorious, celebrating with verses Latine and vulgar and with publicke orations full of flatterie, the wonderfull wisedom of Lodowike Sforce, on the which they made to depend the peace and warre of Italy, exalting his name even to the third heaven."

In those days the bard of Pistoja proclaimed that there was one God in heaven and one Moro upon earth, and sang the praises of this great and divine Duca, who alone could open and close the doors of the Temple of Janus and make peace or war in Italy, while Gaspare Visconti extolled the talents and virtues of Duchess Beatrice as surpassing those of all the most illustrious women of antiquity. Then Leonardo designed that famous series of allegories in his sketch-book, in which Duke Lodovico is represented alternately as Fortune, driving the squalid figure of Poverty away with a golden wand, and throwing his ducal mantle over a helpless youth who flies before the ugly hag; or as supreme Wisdom, wearing the spectacles which can pierce through all disguises, and pronouncing sentence between Envy on the one hand and Justice on the other. Then Bramante painted those frescoes on the walls of the Castello of Milan, in which the Moro was seen crowned and seated on his throne, under a stately portico, administering justice, with four councillors and two pages at his side, while the criminal trembled before him, and officers of state held the scales and prepared to carry out the sentence. And then, too, somewhere else in the palace, an unknown Lombard master painted that fresco of Italy as a fair queen, with the names of the chief cities embroidered on her robes, and the Moro standing at her side, brushing the dust off her skirts with the scopetta or little broom, that favourite emblem which appears in so many illuminated books of the day. On the wall below the painting, the following motto was inscribed:—

"Per Italia nettar d'ogni bruttura."

"Take care, my lord duke," the Florentine ambassador is reported to have said, when Lodovico graciously explained the meaning of the allegory—"take care the negro who is so busy brushing Italy's skirts does not cover himself with dust in his turn!" The courteous duke only smiled at the jest, and shrugged his shoulders; but others overheard the remark and repeated it, much to the satisfaction of his foes in Florence and Venice.

The fame of the great and powerful Duke of Milan had reached the distant cliffs of Albion and the palace of Westminster, and that November Lodovico received a letter from Henry VII. of England, rejoicing with his new ally on the conclusion of the League against France, and the visit of the emperor to Italy. The king further informed him that "the treaty had been solemnly proclaimed by the Cardinal-Archbishop of Conturberi, on the Feast of All Saints, in the cathedral church of the Blessed Apostle St. Paul, in our city of London." And our friend, Marino Sanuto, proceeds to improve the occasion by informing us that "this King Enrico has for wife Madonna Ysabeta, daughter of the late King Edward, because he defended the cause of Richard, brother of the said Edward. And he has two sons, Artur, prince of Squales, which is a neighbouring island, and the Duke of Yorche."



CHAPTER XXVI

Isabella d'Este joins her husband in Naples—Works of Bramante and Leonardo in the Castello of Milan—The Cenacolo—Lodovico sends for Perugino—His passion for Lucrezia Crivelli—Grief of Beatrice—Death of Bianca Sforza—The Emperor Maximilian at Pavia—The Duke and Duchess return to Milan—Last days and sudden death of Beatrice d'Este.

1496

The records we have of Beatrice's private life during this busy year are very meagre and disappointing. Scarcely one of her letters, belonging to this period, has been preserved, while those which her sister Isabella addressed to Milan are almost as rare. The marchesa's time and thoughts had been much engaged in public affairs during the absence of her husband with the Venetian forces at Naples, and she had little leisure for correspondence. On the 13th of July she gave birth to a second child, which, to her great disappointment, proved to be another girl, who received the name of Margherita, but only lived a few weeks. Of this event the duchess was duly informed, and, in sending her congratulations, was able to tell her sister that she was hoping to become the mother of a third child early in the following year. In September the marquis fell dangerously ill of fever, and his wife hurried to join him in Calabria, and, as soon as he was able to move, brought him back by slow stages to Mantua. During that summer, the only letter of interest which Isabella wrote to the Milanese court was a note to her friend, the jester Barone, begging him to find out for her how Messer Galeazzo and others who like him are the glass of fashion, manage to dye their hair black on certain occasions, and afterwards resume the natural colour of their locks, adding that she remembers distinctly to have seen Count Francesco Sforza with black locks one day, and the next with brown.

On the 9th of November, Lodovico wrote an imperative note from Vigevano to the Castellan of the Rocchetta, Bernardino del Corte, desiring him to see that the walls of the new rooms are dry and ready for habitation by the end of the month, since the duchess must have the use of the apartments adjoining the ball-room during her approaching confinement, and telling him to ask Bergonzio, the treasurer, for money, if more should be required. Bernardino replied that the rooms were finished, and that good fires had been lighted to dry the walls, and that the whole suite would be furnished by the following week and ready to receive the duchess. He also informed the duke that the new rooms on the side of the garden would be completed by Christmas, and told him that Bramante, after finishing the arcades of the new gallery between the ball-room and Rocchetta, had begun the design of the new tower. Both Leonardo and Bramante were employed on extensive works in the Castello during the duke's absence that summer, although the Florentine master, we know, was chiefly engaged in finishing his great fresco in the refectory of the Dominican convent outside the Porta Vercellina. Often during the summer heats, Matteo Bandello, then a young novice of the Order, saw the Florentine master at noonday, "when the sun was in the sign of the Lion," leave the Corte Vecchia, where he was finishing his great horse, and, hurrying through the streets to the Grazie, mount the scaffold, brush in hand, and put a few touches to some of the figures in the Cenacolo, after which he would hurry away as quickly as he came. Often too the young friar watched him at his work; "for this excellent painter," Matteo tells us, "always liked to hear other people give their opinions freely on his pictures." Many a time the young Dominican saw Messer Leonardo ascend the scaffold in the early morning, and remain there from sunrise till the hour of twilight, forgetting to eat and drink, and painting all the while without a moment's pause. Sometimes again he would not paint a single stroke for several days, but just stand before the picture during one or two hours, contemplating his work, and considering and examining the different figures. And the friars were very much annoyed because of the master's delays, and complained to the duke, who paid him so large a sum for the work, that he had not yet begun the head of the traitor Judas. When the duke asked Leonardo why he left this head undone, he replied that during the last year he had been vainly seeking in all the worst streets of Milan to find a type of criminal who would suit the character of Judas, but that if desired he would introduce the prior's own likeness, which he thought would answer the purpose excellently! This answer is said to have amused the duke highly, and Lodovico and his painter had a good laugh together at the expense of the prior.

But since Leonardo was otherwise engaged, and another painter who had been employed in the Castello suddenly disappeared, owing, we are told, to some scandal in which he was concerned, the duke determined to send to Florence for another artist to complete the decorations of his new rooms. There was evidently no Lombard master whom he considered equal to the task, and since Lorenzo de' Medici had sent him Leonardo, there might be some other artists of rare excellence among his fellow-citizens. So Lodovico wrote to his envoy at Florence, and desired him to let him have a full description of the best painters then living there. In reply, he received the following list, which is still preserved in the archives of Milan, and which is of great interest, both as a monument of the Moro's untiring perseverance in seeking out the best masters, and as a record of the different degrees of estimation in which living artists were held by their contemporaries:—

"Sandro de Botticelli—a most excellent master, both in panel and wall-painting. His figures have a manly air, and are admirable in conception and proportion.

"Filippino di Frati Filippo—an excellent disciple of the above-named, and a son of the rarest master of our times. His heads have a gentler and more suave air; but, we are inclined to think, less art.

"Il Perugino—a rare and singular artist, most excellent in wall-painting. His faces have an air of the most angelic sweetness.

"Domenico de Grillandaio—a good master in panels and a better one in wall-painting. His figures are good, and he is an industrious and active master, who produces much work.

"All of these masters have given proof of their excellence in the Chapel of Pope Sixtus, excepting Filippino, and also in the Spedaletto of the Magnifico Laurentio, and their merit is almost equal."[63]

This intimation seems to have decided Lodovico to apply to Perugino, whom Leonardo had known as his fellow-pupil in Verrocchio's atelier at Florence, and who was supposed to be in Venice at the time. So his secretary wrote to desire Guido Arcimboldo, the Archbishop of Milan, who was then in Venice, to inquire for the Umbrian master, and see if he could be induced to visit Milan. The archbishop, writing on the 14th of June, replied that Maestro Pietro of Perugia had left Venice six months ago and was back at Florence. Lodovico, however, did not lose sight of the master, and in the following October, by his desire, the monks of the Certosa of Pavia engaged this popular artist to paint an altar-piece for one of their chapels. In the following year the duke returned to the charge, and hearing that Perugino had returned to his native city, wrote two pressing letters to one of the Baglioni, who was the chief magistrate of Perugia, begging him, as a personal favour, to induce Messer Pietro to come to Milan, and offering to pay the artist whatever price he may ask, and to retain him permanently in his service or keep him only for a fixed time, as he may think best. Perugino, however, was then engaged in decorating the Sala del Cambio in his native town, and had already more commissions than he could execute. He declined the Duke of Milan's repeated invitations, and the Moro was obliged to fall back upon Bramante and Leonardo to finish the works in the Castello.

But although the duke's passion for building new churches and palaces or beautifying those which he had already built, was as ardent as ever, it became more and more difficult to find the money to meet the vast expenditure which his splendid schemes involved. The fetes in honour of Maximilian and the subsidies which had been granted for his expedition had already entailed heavy expenses, and on every side the same complaint was heard. There was no money to pay the salaries of the numerous professors at Pavia and Milan, whose chairs had been founded by Lodovico himself; none to pay the bills for building and furnishing the new rooms in the Castello, or to cast Leonardo's great horse in bronze. Everywhere people were groaning at the heavy burdens imposed upon them, and at Lodi, Cremona, and other places there had been not only murmuring against the duke, but actual rioting and tumults, while in some parts of the duchy the inhabitants were leaving their homes to escape these harsh exactions. Lodovico's most faithful servants began to look grave, and the duke himself could not but be aware of his growing unpopularity among his subjects.

Whether these rumours reached the ears of Beatrice and disturbed her happiness, we cannot tell; but we know that her life was saddened and the gladness of her heart clouded by a new sorrow that autumn. The duke, who for many years past had proved himself a devoted and affectionate husband, and realized better than any one what an admirable companion and partner he had in his young wife, suddenly found a new object for his affections in Lucrezia Crivelli, a beautiful and accomplished maiden of a noble Milanese family, who was one of the duchess's ladies-in-waiting. Soon Lodovico's passion for this new mistress became publicly known, Leonardo was employed to paint her picture; and, under the date of November, 1496, the annalist of Ferrara writes, "The latest news from Milan is that the duke spends his whole time and finds all his pleasure in the company of a girl who is one of his wife's maidens. And his conduct is ill regarded here." The chronicler Muralti, in his brief and touching account of the young duchess, after recalling Beatrice's charms and joyous nature, tells us that, although Lodovico loved his wife intensely, he took Lucrezia Crivelli for his mistress, a thing which caused Beatrice the most bitter anguish of mind, but could not alter her love for him. And remorse for the pain which he had caused Beatrice gave the sharpest sting to Lodovico's own despair, on that sad day when he wept for his young wife's early death.

That autumn a fresh and unexpected blow fell upon the ducal family, in the death of Lodovico's beloved daughter Bianca, the young wife of Galeazzo di Sanseverino, who died very suddenly at Vigevano, on the 22nd of November. Both the duke and duchess had been fondly attached to this fair young girl who only four or five months before had become the wife of Galeazzo, and was one of Beatrice's favourite companions. Her sudden and premature death threw a gloom over the whole court, and in elegant verse Niccolo da Correggio deplored the loss of the gentle maiden who had gone in the flower of her youth to join the blessed spirits, and grieved for the gallant husband whom a cruel fate had so early robbed of his bride. There can be little doubt that we have a portrait of this lamented princess in the beautiful picture of the Ambrosiana, which, long supposed to be the work of Leonardo, is now recognized by the best critics as that of Ambrogio de Predis. At one time this portrait was said to represent Beatrice herself, but neither the long slender throat nor the delicate features bear the least resemblance to those of the duchess, while the style of head-dress is equally unlike that which Beatrice wears in authentic representations. Again, some critics have supposed the Ambrosian picture to represent Kaiser Maximilian's wife, Bianca Maria Sforza; but the discovery of Ambrogio de Predis's actual portrait of the empress, and of his sketch of her head in the Venetian Academy, have shown this theory to be impossible. The Venetian Marc Antonio Michieli, who saw this picture in Taddeo Contarini's house at Venice in 1525, describes it as "a profile portrait of the head and bust of Madonna, daughter of Signor Lodovico of Milan," after which he adds, "married to the Emperor Maximilian ... by the hand of ... Milanese." The connoisseur had evidently confused the two Bianca Sforzas, but now that this mistake has been explained by a comparison of the Ambrosian portrait with genuine pictures and medals of the empress, there is no difficulty in accepting the remainder of his statement. For we have here, there can be little doubt, the portrait of Lodovico's daughter, by the hand of a Milanese painter, in all probability, as Morelli divined, the court-painter of the ducal house, Ambrogio de Predis. And the German critic, Dr. Muller-Walde, is probably right in his conjecture that the companion picture in the Ambrosiana is the portrait of Bianca's husband, Galeazzo di Sanseverino. This picture has been called by many names, and ascribed to many different hands. It has been described in turn as a portrait of Maximilian, of the short-lived Duke Giangaleazzo, and of Lodovico Moro himself. But Ambrogio's portrait certainly represents none of the three, and it is far more likely that we have here a likeness of the duke's son-in-law, painted about the time of his marriage to Bianca Sforza. This handsome man of thirty, in the fur-trimmed vest and red cap, with the dark eyes, long locks, and refined thoughtful face, touched with an air of melancholy, may well be the brilliant cavalier who played so great a part at the Moro's court, the patron of Leonardo and Luca Pacioli, and the loyal servant of Duchess Beatrice.

Both the duke and his wife were overwhelmed with grief at Madonna Bianca's death. Lodovico himself wrote to Isabella d'Este that the wound had pierced his inmost heart, and the duchess and Messer Galeaz both expressed their grief in touching words. On the 23rd of November, Beatrice wrote these few sad lines to her sister—

"Although you will have already heard from my husband the duke of the premature death of Madonna Bianca, his daughter and the wife of Messer Galeaz, none the less I must write these few lines with my own hand, to tell you how great is the trouble and distress which her death has caused me. The loss indeed is greater than I can express, because of our close relationship and of the place which she held in my heart. May God have her soul in His keeping!"[64]



All the fetes which had been prepared in honour of the emperor's return to Lombardy were stopped, and the duke and duchess, with their little son, attended by a small suite of courtiers and ladies, in deep mourning, travelled by water to Pavia, to receive their illustrious kinsman when he arrived from Sarzana on the 2nd of December. On this occasion Maximilian behaved with great consideration, and showed deep sympathy with his distressed relatives. Instead of making a public entry through the city, he rode up through the park to the private gate of the Castello, where the duke and duchess met him and conducted him to his rooms. Here he spent the evening alone in their company, and refused to see any one but the little Count of Pavia, for whom he is said to have cherished great affection. The Venetian envoy, Francesco Foscari, hearing of the emperor's arrival, hastened to Pavia, and with difficulty obtained an audience from His Majesty, who told him that it was impossible for him to visit Milan or remain any longer in Italy, since the German Diet was about to meet, and he had promised to join his son, the Archduke Philip, at Augsburg. A council was held in the Castello to discuss political affairs, but it was plain that the Pisans had nothing more to expect from their imperial ally, and Maximilian was only anxious to be back in Germany. On the 4th he attended a solemn requiem mass for the lamented princess Bianca in the Duomo, and in the afternoon rode out to the Certosa with Lodovico, who showed him all the wonders of that famous church and abbey. On the 6th, the duke took his wife, whose delicate state of health needed rest, back to Milan, and a few days later returned with Foscari to meet the emperor at the ducal villa of Cussago. On the 11th, Maximilian went to Groppello, where he knighted the Venetian ambassador and dismissed him, after which he took leave of the duke, says the chronicler, with many expressions of affection on both sides, and once more set out on his journey across the terrible mountains. His expedition, remarked the Venetian writer, "has effected nothing, and he leaves Italy in still greater confusion than he found her."

Lodovico now joined his wife at Milan in time to receive another guest in the person of Chiara Gonzaga, the widowed Duchess of Montpensier, who was on her way back from France. Since her husband's death at Pozzuoli, this unfortunate lady had been vainly trying to recover her fortune from the French king, and was full of gratitude to the duke for his friendly exertions on her behalf. Both her sons, Louis de Bourbon and Charles the famous Connetable, were fighting with the remnants of the French army against her brother in Naples, and both were to lose their lives in the wars of Italy, while she herself spent the rest of her existence in poverty and seclusion at Mantua. But to the last she remained a loyal friend to Lodovico, with whom she corresponded frequently. On the 22nd, Chiara left Milan, and the celebration of the Christmas festival began. But the courtiers and ladies-in-waiting noticed the strange and mournful forebodings which seemed to oppress their young duchess. They often saw tears in her eyes, and wondered whether they were caused by her husband's neglect or grief for the loss of Bianca. Day after day she paid long visits to the Church of S. Maria delle Grazie, where the duke's daughter had been laid to rest in this his favourite shrine. There in those last days of the year Beatrice might constantly be seen, spending hours in prayer at the tomb of the young princess, and musing sadly on the vanity of human joys. But no one dreamt how soon her own end was at hand.

On Monday, the 2nd of January, the Duchess Beatrice drove in her chariot through the park of the Castello and along the streets of the city to the Porta Vercellina and the Church of S. Maria delle Grazie, where even then Leonardo was at work upon his great fresco. In the eyes of the people who saw her pass, she seemed in excellent health, and returned their loyal greetings with the same gracious charm. But when she reached the Dominican church, and had paid her devotions at Our Lady's altar, and prayed for the repose of her daughter's soul, she lingered by the new-made tomb, rapt in sorrowful thought, and it was long before her ladies could persuade her to come away. After her return to the Castello that afternoon, there was dancing in her rooms in the Rocchetta until eight o'clock in the evening, when she was suddenly taken ill. Three hours later she gave birth to a still-born son, and half an hour after midnight her spirit passed away.

That night, contemporary writers tell us, "the sky above the Castello of Milan was all a-blaze with fiery flames, and the walls of the duchess's own garden fell with a sudden crash to the ground, although there was neither wind nor earthquake. And these things were held to be evil omens." "And from that time," adds Marino Sanuto, "the duke began to be sore troubled, and to suffer great woes, having up to that time lived very happily."

Beatrice was gone, and with her all the joy and delight of the duke's life had passed away. The court was turned from an earthly paradise into the blackest hell, and ruin overtook the Moro and the whole realm of Milan, as the poet of the house of Este sang in his Orlando Furioso—

"Come ella poi lascera il mondo, Cosi degli infelici andra nel fondo."

FOOTNOTES:

[63] Dr. Muller-Walde in Jahrbuch d. pr. Kunst, 1897.

[64] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 639.



CHAPTER XXVII

Grief of the Duke of Milan—His letters to Mantua and Pavia—Interview with Costabili—Funeral of Duchess Beatrice—Mourning of her husband—Letters of the Emperor Maximilian and Chiara Gonzaga—Tomb of Beatrice in Santa Maria delle Grazie—Leonardo's Cenacolo, and portraits of the duke and duchess—Lucrezia Crivelli.

1497

The horror and confusion that reigned in the Castello of Milan that night was long remembered. There was sorrow and consternation among Beatrice's servants, and dismay upon the faces of secretaries and courtiers who stood waiting for news in the halls and porticoes of Bramante's building. The duke's grief was said to be terrible. For some time he refused to see any one, and many days passed before even his children were admitted into their father's presence. But, with characteristic strength of mind, he sent for his secretaries that morning, and himself dictated the letters which bore the sad news to Beatrice's family at Mantua and Ferrara. In that dark hour the passion of his love and sorrow breaks through conventional formalities, and gives a touch of pathos to the brief message which he sent to Francesco Gonzaga—

"MOST ILLUSTRIOUS RELATIVE AND DEAREST BROTHER,—

"My wife was taken with sudden pains at eight o'clock last night. At eleven she gave birth to a dead son, and at half-past twelve she gave back her spirit to God. This cruel and premature end has filled me with bitter and indescribable anguish, so much so that I would rather have died myself than lose the dearest and most precious thing that I had in this world. But great and excessive as is my grief, beyond all measure, and grievous as your own will be, I know, I feel that I must tell you this myself, because of the brotherly love between us. And I beg you not to send any one to condole with me, as that would only renew my sorrow. I would not write to the Madonna Marchesana, and leave you to break the news to her as you think best, knowing well how inexpressible her sorrow will be.

"LODOVICUS M. SFORTIA, Anglus Dux Mediolani.[65]

Milan, January 3, 1497, 6 o'clock."

The same day the duke sent the following intimation to the loyal citizens of Pavia: "Last night at half-past twelve our beloved wife, after giving birth to a son who died at eleven, changed this life for death, which most cruel event snatches from us one who, by reason of her rare and singular virtues, was dearer to us than our own life. You will understand what our grief is and how difficult it is to bear this irreparable loss with patience and reason. We beg of you to pray God for the soul of our dearest consort, and to hold solemn funeral services in the Duomo and in all other churches of the city."[66]

About four o'clock that afternoon, the Ferrarese ambassador, Antonio Costabili, received an unexpected summons to the Castello, and he was admitted into the duke's presence. We give the details of his interview with the grief-stricken prince, in his own words from a letter which he addressed the same evening to Beatrice's father, Duke Ercole—

"MOST ILLUSTRIOUS AND EXCELLENT LORD,

"Although I had received a message to the effect that I need not leave the house before night, as none of your august family could be present at the funeral of our most illustrious Madonna, the late duchess, nevertheless at four o'clock the duke sent two councillors to fetch me, and accompanied by these gentlemen, I went to the Camera della Torre in the Castello, where I found all the ambassadors, ducal councillors, and a very large company of gentlemen assembled. Directly I arrived, his Excellency sent for me, and I found him in his room, lying on the bed, quite prostrate, and more overwhelmed with grief than any one whom I have ever seen. After the customary salutations, I endeavoured, in obedience to the request of some of his councillors, to exhort his Highness to take a little comfort and have patience, trying to make use of whatever words came into my mind at the moment, and entreating him to bear this cruel blow with constancy and fortitude, because in this manner he would give comfort and courage to your Excellency in helping you to bear your grief, and at the same time relieve the anxieties of his own servants, and restore hope and peace to their hearts.

"His Highness thanked me for my kindness, and said that he could not bear this most cruel and grievous sorrow without speaking out the thoughts of his heart freely, and had sent for me, in order to tell me that if, as he was conscious, he had not always behaved as well as he should have done to your daughter, who deserved all good things, and who had never done him any wrong whatsoever, he begged both your Excellency's pardon, and hers for whose sake his heart was now sorely troubled. He went on to tell me that in every one of his prayers he had asked our Lord God to allow her to survive him, since he placed all his trust and peace of mind in her. And, since this had not been the will of God, he prayed, and would never cease praying, that if it were ever possible for a living man to see the dead, God would give him grace to see her and speak to her once more, since he had loved her better than himself. After many sobs and lamentations, he ended by begging me to assure your Highness that the love and affection which he bore you would never be diminished in the smallest degree, and that he would retain the same warm sentiments for you and for all your sons, as long as he lived, and would prove by his actions the depth and sincerity of his feelings. Then I took my leave, and he told me to go and follow the corpse, with a fresh outburst of sorrow, lamenting her in language so true and natural that it would have moved the very stones to tears. Thus, still weeping, I returned to join the other ambassadors, who all approached and expressed their grief and sympathy with your Excellency in very loving and compassionate words.

"The obsequies which followed were celebrated with all possible magnificence and pomp. All the ambassadors at present in Milan, among whom were one from the King of the Romans, two from the King of Spain, and others from all the powers of Italy, lifted the corpse and bore it to the first gate of the Castello. Here the privy councillors took the body in their turn, and at the corners of the streets groups of magistrates stood waiting to receive it. All the relatives of the ducal family wore long mourning cloaks that trailed on the ground, and hoods over their heads. I walked first with the Marchese Ermes, and the others followed, each in his right order. We bore her to Santa Maria delle Grazie, attended by an innumerable company of monks and nuns and priests, bearing crosses of gold, of silver and wood, infinite numbers of gentlemen and citizens, and crowds of people of every rank and class, all weeping and making the greatest lamentation that was ever seen, for the great loss which this city has suffered in the death of its duchess. There were so many wax torches it was marvellous to see! At the gates of Santa Maria delle Grazie, the ambassadors were waiting to receive the body, and, taking it from the hands of the chief magistrates, they bore it to the steps of the high altar, where the most reverend cardinal-legate was seated, in his purple robes, between two bishops, and himself said the whole Office. And there the duchess was laid on a bier draped with cloth of gold, bearing the arms of the house of Sforza, and clad in one of her richest camoras of gold brocade.

"My dear lord, besides the extraordinary demonstrations of grief which have been shown by the whole people of this city, and by the women quite as much as by the men, which may well be a great consolation to your Excellency, I must tell you how above all others, Signore Messer Galeazzo di Sanseverino has both by his words and deeds, as well as by his demonstrations of sorrow, given admirable expression to the affection which he had for the duchess, and has taken care to make known to every one the virtues and goodness of that most illustrious Madonna. All of which I have felt it my duty to tell your Excellency, in the hope that it may help to alleviate your sorrow, praying you to maintain the same fortitude that you have always shown hitherto.

"To whose favour I ever commend myself,

"Your Excellency's servant, ANTONIUS COSTABILIS.[67]

Milan, January 3, 1497."

So, by the light of a thousand torches, at the close of the short winter's day, the long procession of mourners bore Duchess Beatrice to her last resting-place under Bramante's cupola, in the church of Our Lady. It was the duke's pleasure that his dearly loved wife should rest there, before the altar where she had often worshipped, by the side of the young daughter whom they had both loved so well. Only a year or two before, the people of Milan had seen her enter those doors in the bloom of her youthful beauty and the joy of her proud young motherhood to give thanks for the birth of her first-born son. But yesterday they had watched her moving among them, full of life and charm; now they saw her lying there in her gorgeous brocades and jewelled necklace, with her eyes closed in death and the dark locks curling over her marble brow.

It was a tragedy which might well melt the heart of the bravest man and move the sternest to tears. No wonder that men like Galeazzo and the Marchesino, who had shared Beatrice's pleasures, and had seen her so lately foremost in the chase and gayest in dance and song, wept when they saw her lying there cold and lifeless. As the chroniclers one and all tell us, "Such grief had never been known before in Milan."

In Ferrara, the home of Beatrice's childhood, where she was loved both for her own and for her mother's sake, the sorrow was scarcely less.

"On Wednesday, the 4th of January," writes the diarist, "came the news of the death of Beatrice, Duchess of Milan. And the duke was very sad, and so were all the people. And on the 12th, Duke Ercole attended an Office said for the repose of the late duchess in the church of the Dominicans, which was all hung with black, and all the clergy, magistrates, and courtiers were there, carrying lighted torches; all the people wore black, and the shops were closed as if it were Christmas, and more than 400 Masses were said for the repose of her soul, and 660 candles were burnt that day. It was a fine day, but a great quantity of wax tapers were used for this funeral service. As for the Duke of Milan, I will say nothing, because the things he does sound incredible to those who have not seen them. Certainly the extraordinary honours which he pays his dead wife show how dearly he loved her. She has left him two little sons. And all Ferrara sorrows for her death, and I saw many weeping. And so goes this ribald world."[68]

That year no races were held on St. George's Day, at Ferrara, and the pallium usually given to the winner was presented by Duke Ercole to the Franciscan Church.

At Mantua there was the same general lamentation, and the same funeral Masses were offered up for the young duchess, who had not yet completed her twenty-second year. Isabella's own sorrow was great.

"When I think," she wrote to her father, on the 5th of January, "what a loving, honoured, and only sister I have lost, I am so much oppressed with the burden of this sudden loss, that I know not how I can ever find comfort."

And the marquis, writing to Duke Lodovico, says that he had never seen his wife so completely overwhelmed with grief; and that she who has always shown herself full of strong and manly courage in adversity, is now utterly broken down. On hearing this, Lodovico roused himself from the torpor of his grief to try and comfort his sister-in-law, and sent her an affectionate letter by one of his secretaries, begging her to seek the consolation which he himself could not find, and telling her how much he thought of her, even though his own grief and bitterness of soul made it impossible for him to write with his own hand. From all sides letters of condolence flowed in. Elegies and Latin verses recalled the charms and talents of Beatrice and lamented the hard fate which had snatched her away in the flower of life. Among these poetical tributes, Niccolo da Correggio's sonnet on seeing a portrait of the late duchess is perhaps the best.

"Se a li occhi mostri quel che fosti viva Morti lor, come te, nulla vedranno Ma le parte invisibil tue staranno. Po che del secol questa eta sia priva. Laude al pictor, ma piu laude in che scriva Quello a futuri che i presenti sanno, Origin e stato e che al triseptimo anno Morte spense ogni ben che in te fioriva. Ma come excedo tua forma il pennello Excedera le tue virtu le penne E restera imperfetto, e questo e quello."

The poet's complaint that the painter's art can never reproduce one-half of the dead lady's charms is literally true in this instance, and those of Beatrice's portraits which we possess do but scant justice to the brightness and beauty which fascinated young and old among her contemporaries. Two of the letters addressed to Lodovico on this melancholy occasion are especially worthy of mention. One was a Latin epistle from the Emperor Maximilian, in which the writer expresses his cordial regard for the duke and his frank admiration for the lamented duchess whose delightful company he had so lately enjoyed.

The letter bears the date of January 11, 1497, and was written from Innsbruck.

"MOST ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE AND DEAREST OF KINSMEN AND FRIENDS,

"Having just heard of the sad calamity which has befallen you in the death of your illustrious wife, Beatrice, our most dear kinswoman, we are filled with grief both on account of our great affection for you and of all the gifts of person and mind which adorned that renowned princess, and which now only adds to the heaviness of our mutual loss. Nothing could grieve us more at this present moment than to find ourselves thus suddenly deprived of a relative who was dear to us above all other princesses, and whose surpassing charms and virtues we had lately learnt to value as they deserved. But we are still more distressed to think that you whom we love so well should lose in her, not only a sweet wife, but a companion who in so remarkable a degree shared the burdens of your crown and lightened your cares and cheered your labours by her society. As for her, although she was one of the few women worthy of perpetual regret and eternal remembrance, this premature death is no true cause of sorrow, and we take comfort in the thought that, since we must all die, they are most blessed who die young and who, having lived happily in their youth, escape the innumerable calamities of this miserable world and the evils of a weary old age. Your most fortunate wife enjoyed all that makes life good; no gift of body and mind, no advantage of beauty or birth, was denied her. She was in every respect worthy to be your wife and to reign over the most flourishing realm in Italy. She has left you the sweetest children to recall the face of their lost mother, and to be alike the consolation of your present sorrow and the staff of your declining years. And when the time comes for you to go hence, you will be able to leave them a peaceful throne and the immortal memory of your name. May the recollection of all the good that you owe her help you to share in these consolations, so that, having already mourned your dear one's death more than enough, your tears may at length be dried and she may rest more safely, while we on our part are once more able to avail ourselves of your help in these difficult and perilous times."[69]

The other letter was written to the duke on the 5th of January, from Mantua, by Chiara Gonzaga, the widowed Duchess of Montpensier, who had so lately enjoyed the pleasure of Beatrice's company at Milan, and who now poured out the fulness of her grief and sympathy with the bereaved husband.

"The piteous and lamentable news of your wife's sudden death, which, my dear lord, I have just received, has so bitterly revived my own sorrows, that I am unable to write to your Excellency as I ought, or speak a single word of comfort, 'Che medico morbeso mal sana li malatti'—for a sick doctor cures sick folks badly.—All I can do is to join my tears with your own in lamenting this cruel and grievous misfortune and our mutual sorrow, which I only wish I could bear in your stead. Had fortune only better understood your need and mine, she would have left that blessed soul to enjoy all the prosperity in store for her, and would have allowed death to relieve me from the burden of my tearful and wretched existence. May that Divine Providence, Who orders all things for some good end, give your Excellency comfort and lead this toilsome life to a safe haven."[70]

Maximilian's allusion to the duke's prolonged mourning for his wife agrees with the remarks of the Ferrarese and Venetian chroniclers. To these men of the Renaissance, accustomed as they were to pass quickly from one phase of life to another and to witness swift and sudden changes of fortune, this inconsolable grief seemed beyond understanding. For a whole fortnight Lodovico remained in a darkened room, refusing to see his children, and taking no pleasure even in their company. No ambassadors were admitted into his presence; even Borso da Correggio, who came from Ferrara, was referred to the Marchesino Stanga and the Conte di Caiazzo, as deputies appointed by the duke to receive condolences. And when Lodovico saw his ministers, they were strictly charged only to speak of business matters, and never to mention the name of the duchess or allude to the duke's recent bereavement. So complete was his seclusion and so profound his melancholy, that those about him began to tremble for his reason. "The duke," wrote Sanuto, "has ceased to care for his children or his state or anything on earth, and can hardly bear to live." But fears of his old enemy Louis of Orleans before long roused him from the apathy and despair, and showed his foes that they had still to reckon with him. Rumours of a French invasion were once more heard; Trivulzio was at Asti with a strong force, and the Duke of Orleans was shortly expected to lead an expedition into Lombardy and assert his claim to Milan.

On the 17th of January, Lodovico shaved his head, came out of his room, and publicly gave the standard and baton of command to Galeazzo di Sanseverino, who was sent to defend Alessandria at the head of a considerable Milanese and German army. But the French king's health was failing, and the Duke of Orleans, who, since the death of the little dauphin twelve months before, had become the next heir to the crown, suddenly refused to leave France. Trivulzio was repulsed in an attack on Novi; while an attempt to seize Genoa, which was set on foot by the Cardinal della Rovere and Battista Fregoso, was frustrated by the prompt measures of defence taken by the Duke of Milan and the Venetians.

Meanwhile every possible honour was paid to the memory of Duchess Beatrice. All through the duchy, during the month of January, solemn funeral services were held, and one hundred requiem masses were said daily in S. Maria delle Grazie for the repose of her soul, while a hundred tapers were kept burning day and night round the stone sarcophagus supported by lions in which her remains were interred. The duke himself, clad in a suit of black fustian and wrapt in a long black cloak, which all his courtiers wore as a badge of mourning, attended two or three masses daily, as well as many offices to Our Lady, and sent a hundred gold ducats to the Santa Casa at Loreto, in discharge of a vow which poor Beatrice had made to take a pilgrimage to that famous shrine after the birth of her child.

Marino Sanuto, writing in August, seven months after Beatrice's death, remarks that since his wife's death the duke has become an altered man. "He is very religious, recites offices daily, observes fasts, and lives chastely and devoutly. His rooms are still hung with black, and he takes all his meals standing, and wears a long black cloak. He goes every day to visit the church where his wife is buried, and never leaves this undone, and much of his time is spent with the friars of the convent." And a Dominican historian, Padre Rovegnatino, then living, records how during the whole of the next year Lodovico visited the convent regularly twice a week—on Tuesday, which, being the day of the week on which Beatrice died, he always kept as a fast, and on Saturday, and on these occasions dined with the prior Giovanni da Tortona and his successor Vincenzo Baldelli.

The decoration and improvement of this church and convent now became the chief object of Lodovico's thoughts. The beautiful shrine which he had already adorned with Bramante's cupola and portico, was now doubly dear to him for the sake of Beatrice and his dead children. The annals of the convent record the multitude of his benefactions to both church and convent, and the cordial relations which he maintained with the Dominican friars to the end of his reign. First of all, he applied himself to raise a monument to the memory of Beatrice immediately in front of the high altar, where her remains were buried. The sculptor whom he chose for this work was Cristoforo Solari, called Il Gobbo, or the hunchback, a surname which he had inherited from his father, who seems to have been deformed. The Solari were a race of sculptors, many of whom had been employed at the Certosa, while Cristoforo, who had settled in Venice about 1490, was recalled to Milan about this time and appointed ducal sculptor, on the recommendation of the Marchesino Stanga. It was the duke's pleasure that a recumbent effigy of Beatrice, wearing the rich brocades and jewels in which she had been borne to her rest, should be placed on her tomb, so that future ages should have a perpetual memorial of the young duchess as she had last appeared in the eyes of the servants and people who had loved her so well. And as it was Lodovico's own wish to be buried in the same tomb, the sculptor was to carve an effigy of himself in ducal crown and mantle, lying at his wife's side in the last slumber. So, at the duke's bidding, the Milanese ambassador, Battista Sfondrati, bought the finest blocks of Carrara marble that he could find in Venice, and the brothers of the Certosa sent seven loads more from their vast stores to Solari's house in Milan. Out of these marbles the sculptor carved a noble bas-relief of the Dead Christ and the two admirable effigies of the duke and duchess, which now adorn the Certosa of Pavia. His task was probably finished before the close of the following year, and the tomb was set up in the Cappella maggiore of S. Maria delle Grazie, at a cost of upwards of 15,000 ducats. At the same time Lodovico placed a slab of black marble on the walls of the same chapel, in memory of the dead child whose birth had cost his mother her life, with the following proud inscription:—

"Infelix partus: amisi ante vitam quam in Lucem ederer; infelicior quod matri Moriens vitam ademi et parentem con -sorte sua orbavi in tam adverso fato. Hoc solum mihi potest jocundium esse Quod divi parentes me, Ludovicus et Beatrix Mediolanenses duces genuere, M.C.C.C.C.LXXXXVII. Tertio Nonas Januarii."

The ill-fated child had died before he had ever seen the light of day, and, still more unfortunate in this, he had deprived his mother of life, and left his father widowed and alone; but this at least he could proudly say, "Lodovico and Beatrice, Duke and Duchess of Milan, were my parents."

The walls of the chapel were decorated with rich marbles and gilding, and new altars were set up in honour of Saint Louis and Santa Beatrice, the patron saints of the duke and duchess. Cristoforo was employed to carve reliefs for the high altar, and the duke gave the friars a jewelled crucifix and marvellously wrought set of chalices, patens, candelabra, paci of niello, engraved with Beatrice's name and arms. Among other costly gifts, he also presented them with a magnificent pallium and richly embroidered hangings for the altar, and a set of illuminated choir-books with enamelled and jewelled bindings, while the Marchesino Stanga gave an organ to the church. Bramante was ordered to complete the cupola as soon as possible, and was employed later to add a new sacristy to the church.

But there was one thing more which lay still nearer to Lodovico's heart. Leonardo's great wall-painting for the convent refectory was well-nigh completed. Cardinal Perault de Gurk, when he visited his friend the Dominican prior towards the end of January, 1497, saw and admired the work of Leonardo, and conversed with the painter, who laughed, Bandello tells us, at his Eminence's ignorance for thinking his salary of 2000 ducats a large one and expressing surprise at the duke's liberality. Lodovico was now anxious to see the life-sized portraits of himself and Beatrice with their children painted by the great master's hand on the opposite wall. The Dominican historian, Padre Pino, writing in the last century, says that the convent retained a life-sized portrait of that most excellent and famous lady, Duchess Beatrice, in which the sweet gentleness of her nature and majesty of her bearing were faithfully reproduced; and Padre Gattico, a very accurate and careful writer of the sixteenth century who wrote the history of the convent from its foundation, describes how Leonardo da Vinci was employed by Lodovico to paint portraits of himself and Beatrice, with their children kneeling at their feet, on the wall opposite the Cenacolo, but adds that these portraits, being painted in oil, were already in a ruinous condition. The Dominican father's words were all too true, and only the merest fragments of these portraits, which Vasari described as works of sublime beauty, now remain on the wall, where the Lombard artist Montorfano had already painted his fresco of the Crucifixion. That of Beatrice is a mere ghost, but enough remains of Lodovico's figure to show how nobly Leonardo treated his subject, and is of the deepest interest as an example of the great Florentine's art and a faithful likeness of his illustrious patron. A distinct reference to Lodovico's wishes on the subject may be found in the paper of directions which he drew up on the 30th of June, 1497, for his minister the Marchesino Stanga.

"Memorandum of the things which Messer Marchesino is to do.

"In the first place, he is to place the ducal arms in gold letters on a marble slab on Porta Ludovica, together with ten bronze medals bearing the duke's head.

"Item: to see that similar tablets are placed on all the public buildings, excepting those in the Castello, which are in charge of Messer Bernardino di Corte, and that medals are placed between them.

"Item: to see that El Gobbo carves the reliefs for the altar this year, and that he has sufficient marble, and if more is needed, send to Venice or Carrara.

"Item: to see that the sepulchre is finished without delay, and to desire Gobbo to work at the covering and all the other portions belonging to the tomb, so that it may be ready as soon as the rest of the sepulchre.

"Item: to ask Leonardo the Florentine to finish his work on the wall of the Refectory, and to begin the painting on the other wall of the Refectory. If he will do this, some arrangement may be made with him regarding the agreements signed by his own hand, by which he stipulated to finish the work within a certain time.

"Item: to see that the portico of S. Ambrogio is finished, for which two thousand ducats have been assigned.

"Item: to call together all the most skilled architects to hold a consultation, and design a model for the facade of Santa Maria delle Grazie, which shall be of the same height and proportions as the Capella Grande.

"Item: to finish the Strada da Corte, which the duke wishes to see completed.

"Item: to make a head of our Madonna the late duchess, and place it on a medallion with that of the duke on the doors of the chapel in Santa Maria delle Grazie.

"Item: to open a new gate in the walls corresponding to the Porta S. Marco, and call it the Porta Beatrice, and place the ducal arms and letters of the said duchess upon the said gate, as has been done at Porta Ludovica.

"Item: to desire that the decorations of the Broletto Nuovo should be finished by August.

"Item: to place an inscription in gold letters on black marble above the portraits of the chapel."

This Memoriale was signed by the ducal secretary, Bartolommeo Calco, and the following lines were added by Lodovico himself:—

"MARCHESINO,—We have charged you with the execution of the works here mentioned, and, although you have already received our orders by word of mouth, we have for our further satisfaction set them down in writing, to show you how extraordinary is the interest that we take in their completion.

"LUDOVICO MARIA SFORTIA."[71]

The bronze medals here mentioned, which by Lodovico's orders were to be placed on all the chief public buildings, were probably those designed by Caradosso after Beatrice's death, in which the head of the duke and duchess appear side by side.

The name and arms of Beatrice were to be seen everywhere; her portrait was to be placed in the church of the Grazie, and her medallion above the gate. And to-day, in spite of the common ruin which has overwhelmed the palaces and churches of Lodovico's fair duchy, the armorial bearings of his consort may still be seen painted in the lunette above the Cenacolo, as if the duke wished Leonardo's great painting to be especially associated with her beloved memory; while not only in the Castello of Milan, but on the site of ducal castles and villas throughout the Milanese, blocks of stone and marble carved with the initials of Lodovico and Beatrice are constantly brought to light.

In the midst of these tokens of grief and love for his lost wife, we come upon a strange incident. That May, Lucrezia Crivelli, the mistress whose liaison with the duke had caused Beatrice the sorrow which he now remembered with so much remorse, bore Lodovico a son, who was named Gianpaolo, and who became a valiant soldier and loyal subject of his half-brother Duke Francesco Sforza in after days. The Moro, as far as we know, never renewed his connection with Lucrezia after his wife's death. The universal testimony of his contemporaries—"he lived chastely and devoutly, and was a changed man"—seems to bear witness to the contrary; but in the following August he settled Cussago and Saronno, the lands which three years before he had given to Beatrice, upon his mistress as a provision for the son she had borne him, and in the act of donation speaks expressly of the delight which he had found in her gentle and excellent company.

Even more strange it sounds in our ears to find Isabella d'Este, only a year after Beatrice's death, writing to the duke's former mistress, Cecilia Gallerani, to ask for the loan of her portrait by Leonardo's hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The fact that a princess of the proud house of Este, and one who, in the eyes of her generation, was the model of all virtues, should seek a favour from one who had wronged her sister so deeply, affords fresh proof how lightly such liaisons were regarded in those days, and may incline us to be more lenient in our judgments of the men and women of the Renaissance.

FOOTNOTES:

[65] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 639.

[66] C. Magenta, op. cit.

[67] This valuable and interesting letter is preserved in the State archives of the House of Este at Modena, and was first published by Signor Gustavo Uzielli, in his Leonardo da Vinci e Tre donne Milanesi, p. 43.

[68] Muratori, xxiv. 342.

[69] M. Sanuto, Diarii, i. 489.

[70] L. Pelissier, Les Amies de L. Sforza.

[71] Cantu in A. S. L., 1874, p. 183.



CHAPTER XXVIII

The Marquis of Mantua dismissed by the Venetians—He incurs Duke Lodovico's displeasure by his intrigues—Isabella d'Este's correspondence with the Duke of Milan—Leonardo in the Castello—Death of Charles VIII.—Visit of Lodovico to Mantua—Francesco Gonzaga appointed captain of the imperial forces—Isabella of Aragon and Isabella d'Este—Chiara Gonzaga and Caterina Sforza—Lodovico's will.

1497-1498

While Lodovico was building sanctuaries and raising memorials to his dead wife, his brother-in-law of Mantua had excited the suspicions of the Venetians by his French sympathies, and in April, 1497, was suddenly dismissed from his post of captain-general of the Signoria's armies. Isabella d'Este was deeply distressed, and Francesco Gonzaga declared loudly that this disgrace was the result of Galeazzo di Sanseverino's jealousy and of the Moro's intrigues. In September the marquis and Messer Galeazzo met at a tournament held at Brescia in honour of the Queen of Cyprus. Fracassa was also present with his wife, Margherita Pia, in a chariot driven by twelve fine horses, and both he and the marquis entered the lists with their followers, but the hero of the day was Galeazzo, who appeared suddenly at the head of forty horsemen, all in deep mourning, with hair dyed black, and black and gold armour, and a herald bearing a black pennon with gold griffins. When the joust was over, the queen entertained Fracassa's wife, and all the cavaliers, at supper, and the next day Galeazzo escorted her home over the hills to Asolo. But this meeting did not improve the strained relations between the princes of Milan and Mantua, and the secret intrigues which Francesco Gonzaga carried on both with France and Florence soon came to Lodovico's ears. In November the duke wrote a strong remonstrance to Isabella, complaining bitterly of her husband's ingratitude, and declaring that he would have exposed his fraudulent conduct in the eyes of the Venetians, and of all Italy, had it not been for the love and regard which he had for her. Isabella was seriously alarmed at the tone of her brother-in-law's letter, and did her best to effect a reconciliation between him and her husband. Her efforts were seconded by her father, Duke Ercole, and his sons, who were often at Milan, and kept up friendly relations with Lodovico after their sister's death. Alfonso and his wife, Anna Sforza, were at the Castello in June, and Galeazzo di Sanseverino himself accompanied the heir of Ferrara to the shop of the famous Missaglia to order a suit of armour which should be "of a gallantry and perfection worthy of Don Alfonso." We hear of a splendid suit of gilded armour, also the work of the Missaglias, being presented to Ferrante d'Este by the Duke of Milan, while Beatrice's youngest brother, the boy-cardinal, Ippolito, succeeded Guido Arcimboldo as Archbishop of Milan, and took up his abode in that city. But a new calamity befell the house of Este that November in the death of Anna Sforza, who, like her sister-in-law, gave birth to a still-born child on the 30th of November, and herself expired a few hours later, to the grief of her whole family, and more especially of Duke Ercole, who, in his advancing years, saw himself bereaved of all of those he loved best. The sweetness and goodness of this princess, the Ferrarese diarist tells us, had endeared her to all the people of Ferrara, and in the shock of her sudden death Lodovico felt a renewal of his own sorrow. In the same week, another Este princess, who had been closely associated with the Milanese court, also passed away. This was the widowed mother of Niccolo da Correggio, that once beautiful and charming Beatrice, who had been known in her youth as the Queen of Festivals, and who for many years had been a staunch friend of the Moro, and had long occupied rooms in the Castello. After her death, Niccolo, feeling that the last link which bound him to Lodovico's court was severed, left Milan, and returned to his old home at Ferrara. That autumn, Cristoforo Romano also left the court, which Duchess Beatrice's death had shorn of its old brightness and splendour, and entered the service of her sister Isabella d'Este at Mantua, while the court-poet, Gaspare Visconti, died early in the following year. One by one artists and singers were dropping out of sight, and the brilliant company which Lodovico's wife had gathered round her was fast melting away. The gay days of Vigevano and Cussago were over, the deer and wild boars grazed unharmed in these woodland valleys, and when Kaiser Maximilian asked the duke for one of his famous breed of falcons, Lodovico sent him one belonging to Messer Galeazzo's breed, saying that he no longer kept any of his own, and had quite given up hunting since the death of the duchess of blessed memory.