I
Beatrice d'Este, Duchess of Milan, sat in her boudoir writing a letter to her sister Isabella, wife of the Marchese Francesco Gonzaga, lord of Mantua:—
'Most excellent madonna and well-beloved Sister, I and il Signor Ludovico, my spouse, desire your good health, and that of il Signor Francesco, your illustrious consort.
'In obedience to your desire I send you the portrait of Massimiliano, my Son, only I pray you not to conceive of him as of the smallness here indicated. I would send you the precise measurements of how tall he is, but that I am afraid, for the nurse tells me such measurement would impede his growth. He grows amazingly. If I see him not for a couple of days, I find him so greatly enlarged that I jump for joy.
'Here at court we have a great grief: the little Fool Nannino hath died. You, my sister, knew him and loved him well; you will therefore comprehend that while I might have replaced any other loss, Nature herself could not fill the void left by Nannino, since in this Being, formed expressly for the delight of princes, she had united the perfection of imbecility with the most entrancing hideousness. Bellincioni has composed a most elegant Elegy, declaring that if Nannino is in Heaven then all paradise must laugh, if he is in hell even Cerberus grinneth. We have buried him, with many tears, in our family tomb in St. Maria delle Grazie, beside my favourite falcon, and the memorable bitch Puttina. Death shall not wholly separate me from so delightful a possession. I have wept for two entire nights, and Ludovico, my lord, in the hope to console me, has promised me for a Christmas gift a magnificent silver bedside Seat, ornamented with a relief of the fight between the Centaurs and the Lapithæ. Its interior will be of pure gold, very massive, and it hath a Baldachin of velvet, embroidered with our ducal arms. A similar seat has no other prince, neither the Pope, nor the Emperor, nor the grand Turk. It will excel in beauty that one famed by Martial in his epigram. My lord, Ludovico, had wished Leonardo da Vinci to contrive a musical-organ in its Interior, but he hath excused himself on some flimsy pretext, such as the finishing of his Colossus, or his Cenacolo. You prayed me, beloved Sister, to lend you this Painter for a time. With pleasure would I accede to your request, and verily not lend but give him to you for ever; but my lord, Ludovico, for what reason I cannot say, is exceeding well-disposed toward this man, and would not consent to his removal for all the gold in the world. Be not disappointed overmuch, for verily this Leonardo is occupied to such a degree with alchemy, mechanics, Magic, and other such like follies, that he scarce attends to his painting; secondly, he executes all commissions with a slowness that would lose an Angel his patience; thirdly, he is an infidel.
'Of late we have had a wolf-hunt. They do not permit me to mount on horseback, for I am now advanced in my fifth month; but I watched the hunt from the high platform of a conveyance made expressly for me, in form like a pulpit. I assure you that in this box I was rather tortured than diverted. When the Wolf made his escape into the forest I wept with rage. Had I been upon my horse I swear he should not thus have got away, though I had broken my collar-bone.
'My little sister, do you recall how we used to leap our horses? And how Penthesilea fell in the Ditch and almost destroyed herself? And the boar-hunt at Cusnago? And the tennis? and the angling? What fine times were those!
'Here we amuse ourselves as best we can. We play at cards, and we skate, which is a most pleasing diversion, introduced among us by a Flemish gentleman, for the winter is very severe, and not only the lakes but likewise the rivers are completely frozen. In the park Leonardo hath built out of snow a most elegant Leda embraced by the swan. Pity 'tis that in the spring it will melt!
'And you, delightful sister, how fare you? And has your breed of cats with long hair succeeded well? If you have a male Kitten with tawny hair and blue eyes, I pray you to send him with the young Negress you have promised me; I will give you in exchange my little bitch's next litter.
'Pray you, do not omit to send the model of the Wrapper of azure satin, with the cross-cut collar and the trimming of sables. I asked for it in my last letter. Pray you, despatch it at once; 'twere best to-morrow at day-break, and by a mounted messenger. And send me also a vessel of your boasted ointment for the king's evil, and some of that foreign wood for the finger-nails.
'Our astrologer predicts a very hot summer, and War. What saith your prophet? One's faith jumps always with the astrologer belonging to somebody else.
'I and Ludovico, my lord, commend ourselves to your gracious remembrance, beloved sister, and that of your illustrious consort, the Signor Marchese Francesco.
Beatrice Sforza.'