"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 più 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
Excederà le tue virtù le penne
E resterà 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 Innsbrück.
"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]