1495
While Charles VIII. was leading his victorious army against Naples, and striking terror into all hearts throughout the length and breadth of Italy, Duchess Beatrice Sforza, as the wife of Lodovico now styled herself, was joyfully expecting the birth of a second child. Once more great preparations were made in the Rocchetta for the happy event. On the 10th of December her sister Isabella sent her the size and pattern of a cradle which her father had given her before the birth of her little daughter, Leonora, the year before, excusing herself for not writing a longer letter because she was engaged with her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Montpensier. Duke Lodovico himself, immediately on his return to Vigevano in November, had written begging the Marchesa to come to Milan in January, and on the 15th she left Mantua. On the day after her arrival she paid a visit of condolence to the widowed duchess, whose sorrowful condition filled her with compassion.
"I found her in the large room," writes Isabella to her husband, on the 20th of January, "all hung with black, with only just light and air enough to save one from suffocation. Her Highness wore a cloth cloak, and a black veil on her head, and her deep mourning filled me with so much compassion that I could not keep back my tears. I condoled with her in your name and my own, and she gratefully accepted my sympathy, and sent for her children, the sight of whom increased my emotion."
On the 4th of February, Beatrice gave birth to a second son, a fine boy, who received no less than fifteen names, including those of Francesco Sforza, after his illustrious grandfather. As a child he was called Sforza, but became afterwards known as Francesco, under which name he reigned during the last years of his short life over the duchy of Milan. Isabella d'Este held the infant prince at the baptismal font, and remained at Milan till the end of the Carnival, at the urgent entreaty of her brother-in-law, who himself wrote to beg the marquis for permission to keep his wife a few weeks longer.
Alfonso d'Este and his wife, Anna Sforza, always a favourite at the court of Milan, now joined the ducal party, and took part in the brilliant series of festivities which celebrated Beatrice's recovery and the christening of the infant prince.
"Every third day," wrote Isabella to an absent Milanese friend of hers, Anton Maria de' Collis, "we have triumphal and magnificent festivities, one of which lasted till two in the morning, another was not over till four o'clock. We spend the intervening days in riding and driving in the park or else through the streets of Milan, which has been made so beautiful that if you were to come back here to-day, you would no longer know the place."
In another letter Isabella describes a splendid festa at the house of Messer Niccolo da Correggio, at which a representation of the fable of Hippolyte and Theseus, as told in the "Innamoramento di Orlando" was beautifully given. And in answer to a letter from her brother-in-law, Giovanni Gonzaga, telling her of an allegorical representation in which the famous Serafino of Aquila had taken part, she writes—
"Here too we are enjoying feasts and pleasures of every description, which afford us the greatest possible delight, and I hope to tell you many things that will excite your Highness's envy. For this is the school of the master of those who know."[57]
Such phrases as these were no small praise on the lips of so accomplished and critical a woman as Isabella d'Este. Another contemporary, the Florentine Guicciardini, who visited the capital of Lombardy, was filled with amazement at the sight, and describes Milan during Lodovico's reign as famous for the wealth of its citizens; the infinite number of its shops; the abundance and delicacy of all things pertaining to human life; the superb pomp and sumptuous ornaments of its inhabitants, both men and women; the skill and talent of its artists, mechanics, embroiderers, goldsmiths, and armourers; and the innumerable quantity of new and stately buildings which adorn its streets. "Not only," he adds, "is the city full of joy and pleasure, of feasting and delight, but so wonderfully is it increased in riches, magnificence, and glory, that it may certainly be called the most flourishing and happiest of all the cities in Italy."
The stranger from Florence and Venice might well admire the duke's knowledge and taste, and wonder at the splendid results which his enlightened patronage of art and learning had produced. For they saw his great city of Milan as it has never been seen again, before the savage invader had spoiled its charm and defaced its loveliness; when Bramante's churches and porticoes rose in perfect symmetry against the sky, and the glowing tints of Leonardo's frescoes were yet fresh upon the walls. They saw the Ruga bella, or Beautiful Way, with its long line of palaces on either side, its painted walls and richly carved portals. They saw the lovely cupola of S. Maria delle Grazie, and the marble cloisters of S. Ambrogio, and the graceful Baptistery of S. Satiro, which Caradosso had lately adorned with his elegant frieze of cherubs and medallions. They saw the stately arcades of the Spedale Grande, and the deep-red brick and terra-cotta pile of the vast Lazzaretto, and the wide streets and piazzas which the duke had laid out "to give the people more light and air." Above all, they saw the great Castello which was the pride of Lodovico's court. These vaulted ceilings and painted halls, these beautiful gardens with their temples and labyrinths, their fountains and statues, these splendid stables with columned aisles and walls adorned with frescoes of horses, which the French invaders admired more than anything else in Milan, were well-nigh complete. But still Lodovico was always planning some new improvements to add to the charm and pleasantness of the ducal residence. Isabella's friend Leonardo, we know from one of the duke's letters, was engaged at this moment in painting the vaults of the newly built Camerini, while he was still putting the last touches to the famous equestrian statue which the Marchesa now saw for the first time, and which the duke promised should be soon cast in bronze. But the great master's thoughts were taking a new direction, and he was already preparing designs for the mural painting of the Cenacolo, with which Lodovico had ordered him to decorate the refectory of the Dominicans in his favourite convent of S. Maria della Grazie. It was a work after Leonardo's own heart, and he determined to frame an altogether new and original composition, a Last Supper which should be unlike all others in Italy. This time at least the duke's fastidious taste should be satisfied, and the Lombards should be made to own that Leonardo the Florentine was an artist who had no equal.
Another of Isabella's favourite artists, Maestro Lorenzo, the gifted organ-maker, was absent from court, and had left his old home at Pavia to take up his abode at Venice near his friend Aldo Manuzio, the printer. But during this visit the Marchesa saw "the beautiful and perfect clavichord" which he had made for Beatrice, and vowed to leave no stone unturned until she had obtained a similar one. Unfortunately, when she wrote to inform Messer Lorenzo of her wishes, he was engaged in making a viol for the Duchess of Milan, and had also promised Messer Antonio Visconti a clavichord, so that he was unable to satisfy the impatient Marchesa as quickly as she would have liked. Nothing daunted, however, Isabella returned to the charge, and addressed a letter in her sweetest and most persuasive strain to Count Antonio Visconti, begging him, since her desires were so ardent and she had already waited so long, of his courtesy to allow Messer Lorenzo to begin her clavichord as soon as Duchess Beatrice's viol should be finished. The count naturally enough was unable to refuse the request of so charming a princess, and as usual Isabella got her own way. On Christmas Day, 1496, she wrote joyously to tell her Venetian agent, Brognolo, that Messer Lorenzo had just arrived at Mantua, bringing the precious clavichord, which was as beautiful and perfect as it could possibly be. But the saddest part of the story has yet to be told. After the death of Beatrice, and Lodovico's final ruin, Isabella d'Este remembered the matchless organ which Lorenzo de Pavia had made for her sister, and wrote immediately to the Pallavicini brothers who had joined in the betrayal of the Castello, begging them, if possible, to let her have the instrument. A considerable time elapsed before her wish was gratified, but in the end her perseverance triumphed over all difficulties, and on the last day of July, 1501, she wrote to tell Messer Lorenzo that the beautiful clavichord which he had made for the Duchess of Milan had been given her by Galeazzo Pallavicino, the husband of Niccolo da Correggio's half-sister, Elizabeth Sforza, and would be doubly precious to her as his work and because of its rare excellence.[58] By a strange fate, the fragments of this precious clavichord, which was so highly esteemed in its day, have of late years found their way to the ancient palace of the dukes of Ferrara in Venice. The instrument which the gifted Pavian made for Beatrice, inscribed with the Greek and Latin mottoes chosen by Lorenzo, may still be seen under the roof of her father's old house, in those halls where the young duchess once spent that joyous May-time long ago.
Another incident which took place at Milan during Isabella's visit, and could not fail to inspire her with the keenest interest, was the arrival of a marble Leda and a number of other antiques that were sent to the duke from Rome, by the goldsmith Caradosso. After the flight of Piero de' Medici and the revolution which had taken place in Florence, Lodovico sent this well-known connoisseur to try and acquire some of the priceless marbles or gems from the Magnificent Lorenzo's collection. But the Florentine magistrates wisely declined to part from these objects of art, which were now the property of the nation, and after Christmas Caradosso went on to Rome. He arrived there to find the French army in possession of the city and everything in the greatest confusion, but in the end succeeded in securing several valuable antiques. The cardinals, to whom Caradosso obtained introductions through Ascanio Sforza, were glad to ingratiate themselves with the powerful Duke of Milan at this critical moment, and the artist was able to inform his master that Cardinal di Monreale had given him a marble Leda—a really good antique, though some limbs of it were missing—and that other prelates had made him liberal offers.
"The Cardinal of Parma asked me yesterday what brought me to Rome. I told him I had come, by your Excellency's desire, to see if I could find any beautiful works in bronze or marble that were to be had for gold. Monsignore asked me if you really cared for these things. I replied, 'Yes, undoubtedly.' Upon which the Most Reverend informed me that he had an antique statue, and begged me to come and see if I thought that you would like it, as if so, he should be glad to send it as a present to your Excellency. I have seen it, and it is decidedly good.... Monsignore di Sanseverino has promised to show me some fine things, and I hear that Monsignore Colonna and the Cardinal of Siena have also some good things, but, unluckily, they are both of them away from Rome. Since I am here I must do my best to play the rogue. I hope to have enough to load a bark shortly, and send statues to Genoa and to Milan. Meanwhile I should be glad if you would write and thank the Cardinal of Parma for his statue, because it may induce him to send you some more fine works of art, and your gratitude may lead others, who are anxious to gain your Excellency's favour, to follow his example and send you some more beautiful objects, so that the world may become aware how far you surpass all other princes both in magnanimity and in the delight which you take in this most laudable pursuit. On my return to Florence, I will make another effort to obtain some of the precious objects which I saw there, and perhaps this time affairs may be in better order, and I may be more successful in obeying the orders of your Excellency, to whom I commend myself.
"Your servant,
Caradosso de Mundo.
Roma, February, 1495."
No one sympathized more truly with Lodovico's passion for collecting antiques, or appreciated the treasures of art which he had brought together in the Castello, more fully than Isabella d'Este. As before, this brilliant princess charmed all hearts at Milan. When she asked a favour, whether it was of Count Pallavicino or Madonna Cecilia, of Messer Lorenzo or Gian Bellini, no one could refuse her prayer. When she received the Venetian ambassadors, the grace and gallantry of her bearing were irresistible. Whatever she did was done well. Her high spirits never failed, her strength never seemed to tire. She could ride all day and dance all night. She could answer Gaspare Visconti's verses in impromptu rhymes, and keep up animated literary controversies with Niccolo da Correggio and Messer Galeaz, or discuss grave political questions with the duke in the wisest and most sagacious manner. "As usual," wrote her secretary Capilupi, "Madonna's gracious ways and lively conversation have charmed every one here, most of all the Signor Duca, who calls her his dear daughter, and always makes her dine with him."
If Lodovico took pleasure in Isabella's company, Beatrice's warm heart glowed with tender affection for the sister whose presence recalled her dead mother and the home of her youth, while Isabella's love for children could not resist the advances of her little nephew Ercole, who followed his aunt about the rooms of the Castello and made her laugh till the tears ran down her cheeks. But the happy peace of these days was destined to be rudely disturbed. Suddenly, on the last day of the month, news reached Milan that the King of France had entered Naples and been crowned King of the Sicilies in the cathedral on the 22nd of February. The young king Ferrante had fled to Ischia with the rest of the royal family, and throughout his dominions the people flocked out along the roads to hail the victor's coming, and welcomed him with shouts of joy. Great was the consternation at the Milanese court that evening, and Isabella wrote to her husband—
"So complete and sudden a downfall appears almost impossible both to this illustrious lord, the duke, and to us all. It would indeed have been impossible were it not a Divine judgment. This sad case must be an example to all the kings and powers of the world, and will, I hope, teach them to value the love of their subjects more than all their fortresses, treasures, and men-at-arms, for, as we see now, the discontent of the people is more dangerous to a monarch than all the might of his enemies on the battle-field."
The bad news threw a gloom over the gay party in the Castello. All the pleasure and feasting of the Carnival, all the mirth of the dancing and feasting, died away. Isabella and Beatrice thought sadly of their cousin Ferrante, the chivalrous young prince who was a favourite with all his kinsfolk, and his sister, the widowed Duchess Isabella, shed bitter tears over this fresh sorrow. Even comedies and pageants lost their old gaiety and became dull and tedious. "To me this Carnival seems a thousand years long," sighed Isabella d'Este, in a letter to her husband, deploring her prolonged absence and complaining that the duke would not allow her to leave before a certain day, fixed by his astrologer. By the middle of March, however, she returned to Mantua, followed by the most sincere regrets and liveliest expressions of affection on the part of both her sister and brother-in-law.
"In all her actions," wrote Lodovico to the Marquis of Mantua, "this worthy Madonna has shown so much charm and excellence, that, although we rejoice to think you will soon enjoy her presence, we cannot but feel great regret at the loss of her sweet company, and when she leaves us to-morrow, I must confess we shall seem to be deprived of a part of ourselves."
And a week later Beatrice wrote to her sister, "I cannot tell you often enough how strange and sad the departure of your Highness has seemed to me this time. Wherever I turn, in the house or out-of-doors, I seem to see your face before my eyes, and when I find myself deceived, and realize that you are really gone, you will understand how sore my distress has been—nay, how great it still is. And you, I think, will have felt the same grief, because of the love between us. Even little Ercole misses you, and keeps on asking continually in his childish fashion for his aunt, and crying 'Cia, cia!' and he seems quite lost when he cannot find you anywhere."[59]
Beatrice's strange and sad forebodings were destined to prove all too true. That was Isabella's last visit to her brother-in-law's court, and the sisters never met again. When, thirteen years afterwards, the Marchesa returned once more to Milan and danced in the halls of the Castello, she came as the guest of Louis XII., the king who had conquered Lodovico's fair duchy and brought about the ruin of the house of Sforza. Beatrice had long been dead, her children were in exile, and the Moro was wearing his heart out in lonely captivity within the gloomy prison walls of Loches.
FOOTNOTES:
[57] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 622.
[58] C. dell'Acqua, Lorenzo Gusnasco, pp. 19, 20.
[59] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., pp. 622, 623.
CHAPTER XXIII
Proclamation of the new league against France at Venice—Charles VIII. at Naples—Demoralization of the victors—Charles leaves Naples and returns to Rome—The Duke of Orleans refuses to give up Asti—Arrival of the imperial ambassadors at Milan—Lodovico presented with the ducal insignia—Fêtes in the Castello—The Duke of Orleans seizes Novara—Terror of Lodovico—Battle of Fornovo—Victory claimed by both parties—The French reach Asti—Isabella's trophies restored by Beatrice.