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Updated: June 22, 2025
At the same time it was also decided that Madonna Anna's marriage should take place in July, 1490, by which time Signor Alfonso would have completed his fourteenth year, and the sum due to Messer Lodovico for Beatrice's dowry was to be deducted from that of his niece, who, as a princess of Milan, was to receive a portion of 100,000 crowns.
Early in February this lady-in-waiting wrote the following letter to Isabella d'Este, in terms that were well calculated to reassure both the anxious sister and mother as to Beatrice's happiness and her husband's behaviour:
There is no mistaking the long black hair, the refined features, and long nose of the Moro, while in Beatrice's features we recognize the same youthful and child-like charm that mark her countenance in Cristoforo Romano's bust or Solari's effigy in the Certosa of Pavia. Luzio-Renier, op. cit., p. 630.
Had it not been for Beatrice's salary it was difficult to see how the family could have continued to exist. She gave it almost all to her father now, only keeping back a very small sum for her necessary clothing and such sundries as stamps and writing paper.
There was a strong family likeness between the two; but there was also a striking contrast in air, manner, and all that stamps on the physiognomy the idiosyncrasies of character. There was something of gravity, of earnestness and passion, in Beatrice's countenance when carefully examined; her smile at times might be false, but it was rarely ironical, never cynical.
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.
I thought that for once The Mass would almost lag behind its readers; though in the beginning I had regarded Herr Mitmann's proposals as going beyond even our limits. We left the hall while its roof echoed the jingling tail-piece of another popular ditty, which tickled Beatrice's fancy hugely.
He had even, as Beatrice conjectured, taken off his boots to creep up to the window, and as he ran away in his fright, had dropped them into a ditch full of water. There they were found, and went far to convince the jury of the truth of his story. Thus it was that Beatrice's quick wit laid the foundations of Geoffrey's great success. This particular Monday was a field day at the Vicarage.
It was the best poem he had written for a long time, and when it was finished, he came down the wood impatient to read it to Beatrice. This was the poem, which he called "The Northern Sphinx": While Antony read, Beatrice's face grew sadder and sadder. When he had finished she said: "It is very beautiful, Antony but it is not written for me." "What can you mean, Beatrice?
I am not afraid of Dante. I know people by their friends, and he went about with Virgil, so I said with some severity, "No, Dante, il naso della Signora Robinson e vero, ma non e bello"; and he admitted I was right. Beatrice's name is Towler; she is waitress at a small inn in German Switzerland. I used to sit at my window and hear people call "Towler, Towler, Towler," fifty times in a forenoon.
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