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 lascerà il mondo,
Così degli infelici andrà nel fondo."
FOOTNOTES:
[63] Dr. Müller-Walde in Jahrbuch d. pr. Kunst, 1897.
[64] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 639.