The next day, Lodovico took his wife and mother-in-law, with the Duchess of Milan and their other guests, to Vigevano, to enjoy a little rest and country air. But here fresh amusements awaited them, and the splendour of Beatrice's wardrobe and the treasures of her camerini filled the Ferrarese visitors with wonder and envy. On the 6th of March, Bernardo Prosperi wrote to tell Isabella that our Madonna had been conducted by the jester Mariolo over Beatrice's "guardaroba," and had seen all the splendid gowns, pelisses, and mantles which had been made for her during the last two years, about eighty-four in all, "besides many more," adds the writer, "which your sister the duchess has in Milan." The costliness of the materials, and the rich and intricate embroidery which covered satins and brocades, made Leonora exclaim that she felt as if she were in a sacristy looking at priests' vestments and altar frontals. After examining all of these fine clothes, the duchess was taken into two other camerini, where Beatrice, after the fashion of great ladies in those days, had collected her favourite books and object d'art. One cabinet was full of Murano glass of delicate shape and colour, of porcelain dishes, and majolica from Faenza or Gubbio. Another held ivories, crystals, and enamels engraved in the same style as Lodovico's vases in the treasury at Milan. Perfumes and washes filled another case, while a separate cabinet was devoted to hunting implements, dog-collars, pouches, flasks, horns, knives, and hoods for falcons. "There was, indeed," added Duchess Leonora's attendant, "enough to fill many shops."
The evenings at Vigevano were enlivened with music and singing, and, by Lodovico's orders, a band of Spanish musicians who had been sent from Rome to Milan by his brother, Cardinal Ascanio, came to play before Beatrice and her mother, who both admired the sweet strains of their large viols, and examined the shape and size of their instruments with curiosity. On Sunday theatrical representations were given, and Beatrice appeared in a wonderful new gown made of gold-striped cloth, with a crimson vest laced with fine silver thread "arranged," wrote an admiring lady-in-waiting, "in the most graceful fashion. This your sister wore," she adds, "because it was Carnival Sunday; but even now, although Lent has begun for most of us, Carnival is not yet over for these highnesses, since Signor Lodovico and his duchess, Messer Galeazzo, the Duke and Duchess of Milan, and many of their courtiers, have received dispensations from Rome to eat meat all the same."[33]
Meanwhile Beatrice's little son was growing into a strong healthy child, and her letters are full of the beauty and perfections of her precious babe. Again and again, in her notes to Isabella, she talks of "my son Ercole," with all a young mother's proud delight.
"I cannot tell you," she writes to her sister, "how well Ercole is looking, and how big and plump he has grown lately. Each time I see him after a few days' absence, I am amazed and delighted to see how much he has grown and improved, and I often wish that you could be here to see him, as I am quite sure you would never be able to stop petting and kissing him."
Isabella, on her part, wrote warmly to her sister in return, saying how much she longed to see her beautiful boy—"il suo bello puttino" and "not only to see him, but to hold him in my arms and enjoy his company after my own fashion."
Duchess Leonora returned to Ferrara at the end of another week, and one of Beatrice's first anxieties was to have a portrait of her child painted for her mother. On the 16th of April, she wrote from her favourite country house Villa Nova, where she had brought the babe to enjoy the sweet spring air—
Most illustrious Madama mine, and dearest Mother,
"Your Highness must forgive my delay in writing to you. The reason was that every day I have been hoping the painter would bring me the portrait of Ercole, which my husband and I now send you by this post. And, I can assure you, he is much bigger than this picture makes him appear, for it is already more than a week since it was painted. But I do not send the measure of his height, because people here tell me if I measure him he will never grow! Or else I certainly would let you have it. And my lord and I, both of us, commend ourselves to your Highness, and I kiss your hand, my dearest mother.
"Your obedient servant and child,
Beatrice Sfortia da Este,
with my own hand.[34]
To the most illustrious Lady my dearest Mother,