rest which she inspires is deepened
by the pathos of her sudden and early death.

If in Isabella we have the supreme representative of Renaissance culture
in its highest and most intellectual phase, Beatrice is the type of that
new-found joy in life, that intoxicating rapture in the actual sense of
existence, that was the heritage of her generation, and found
expression in the words of a contemporary novelist, Matteo
Bandello--himself of Lombard birth--when with his last breath he bade
his companions live joyously, "_Vivete lieti!_" We see this bride of
sixteen summers flinging herself with passionate delight into every
amusement, singing gay songs with her courtiers, dancing and hunting
through the livelong day, outstripping all her companions in the chase,
and laughing in the face of danger. We see her holding her court in the
famous Castello of Porta Giovia or in the summer palaces of Vigevano and
Cussago, in these golden days when Milan was called the new Athens, when
Leonardo and Bramante decorated palaces or arranged masquerades at the
duke's bidding, when Gaspare Visconti wrote sonnets in illuminated
books, and Lorenzo da Pavia constructed organs or viols as perfect and
beautiful to see as to hear, for the pleasure of the youthful duchess.
Scholars and poets, painters and writers, gallant soldiers and
accomplished cavaliers, we see them all at Beatrice's feet, striving how
best they may gratify her fancies and win her smiles. Young and old,
they were alike devoted to her service, from Galeazzo di Sanseverino,
the valiant captain who became her willing slave and chosen companion,
to Niccolo da Correggio, that all-accomplished gentleman who laid down
his pen and sword to design elaborate devices for his mistress's new
gowns. We read her merry letters to her husband and sister, letters
sparkling with wit and gaiety and overflowing with simple and natural
affection. We see her rejoicing with all a young mother's proud delight
over her first-born son, repeating, as mothers will, marvellous tales of
his size and growth, and framing tender phrases for his infant lips. And
we catch glimpses of her, too, in sadder moods, mourning her mother's
loss or wounded by neglect and unkindness. We note how keenly her proud
spirit resents wrong and injustice, and how in her turn she is not
always careful of the rights and feelings of her rivals. But whatever
her faults and mistakes may have been, she is always kindly and
generous, h